There now appears in the relation a character well known in many stories—Aonghas, or Angus, vel Innes, vel Æneas, of the Brough, a place on the Boyne. He was the son of Dagdae, a king of the Danaans in Ireland; and mirabile dictu reigned over the island for eighty years. He was a great friend of Diarmad, to whom he presented two remarkable swords and two javelins equally remarkable and venomous in their character, designated—the former Moraltagh and Begaltagh; and the latter, Gathdearg and Gathbuidhe. He now comes to the help of the eloping fugitives in their besieged “grove,” where “Grainne awoke out of her sleep” in a rather disconcerted state of mind. Aonghas carries her off in a fold of his mantle, but Diarmad will not submit to be rescued in that rather inglorious fashion.
After that Aonghas and Gràine had departed. Diarmad “arose as a straight pillar and [stood upright], and girded his arms and his armour and his various sharp weapons about him.” He came to a door of the seven-wattled doors that there were to the enclosure, and asked who was at it. One or other of the chiefs of the Féinne was at the first five doors at which he successively interrogated; and each and all of them were ready to permit him tacitly to make his escape, but his chivalrous nature would not allow him to regain his freedom in any unknightly fashion. The sixth wicket is hostile: but it is not Finn’s. He comes to the seventh:—“He asked who was at it? ‘Here are Fionn, the son of Cumhaill, the son of Art, the son of Treunmhor, O’Baoisgne, and four hundred hirelings with him; and we bear thee no love, and if thou wouldst come out to us, we would cleave thy bones asunder.’ ‘I pledge my sword,’ said Diarmuid, ‘that the door at which thou art, O Fionn, is the first [i.e., the very] door by which I will pass of [all] the doors.’ Having heard that Fionn charged his battalions on pain of their death, and of their instant destruction, not to let Diarmad pass them without their knowledge. Diarmuid having heard that, arose with an airy, high, exceeding light bound, by the shafts of his javelins and by the staves of his spears, and went a great way out beyond Fionn and beyond his people without their knowledge or perception. He looked back upon them, and proclaimed to them that he had passed them, and slung his shield upon the broad arched expanse of his back, and so went straight westward; and he was not long in going out of sight of Fionn and of the Fenians.”
At Ros-da-shoileach (now Limerick) the hero found Aonghas and Gràine in a warm and comfortable hut, with half a wild boar on spits. Aonghas departs, leaving with them his best counsel against “the wiles of Finn.”
After availing themselves of various refuges, the fugitive pair approach the west coast of Kerry, where they see the allies of Fionn from the French coast drawing close to the shore. Nine times nine warriors step ashore, and Diarmad inquires what was their business, and what county they came from. [They reply that] they are “the three royal chiefs of Muir-n-iocht,” and are now come at Fionn Mac Cumhaill’s order to seek and to curb “a forest marauder” called Diarmuid O’Duibhne, whom he has outlawed. In a trial of skill Diarmuid kills fifty of these French Finians. These are styled “green” Finians, with three of whom Diarmad deals somewhat remorselessly in the course of a day or two. Their names will be interesting to the Gaelic reader—Duch-chosach (black-footed), Fionn-chosach (fair-footed), Treun-chosach (strong-footed). Before he finally encounters these and the “three enchanted hounds” Diarmad thus accoutres himself:—“He girt about him his suit of battle and of conflict, under which, through which, or over which, it was not possible to wound him; and he took the Moralltach, that is the sword of Aonghas na Brogha, at his left side, which [sword] left no stroke nor blow unfinished at the first trial. He took likewise his two thick shafted javelins of battle—from which none recovered, either man or woman, that had ever been wounded by them. After that, Diarmuid roused Grainne and bade her keep watch and ward for Muadhan, [saying] that he himself would go to view the four quarters around him. When Grainne beheld Diarmuid with bravery and daring [clothed] in his suit of anger and of battle, fear and great dread seized her.” But an off-hand reply “soothed Grainne, and then Diarmuid went in that array to meet the green Finians.” These are part of the troubles and feats of Diarmad MacDoon, the alleged ancestor of the great MacCailein line. The romance will be found in the third volume of the Transactions of the Dublin Ossianic Society, well edited by Mr S. H. O’Grady. Our own Highland versions on the subject are tolerably well known.
During the dreamy period of the Middle Ages the great literary source of amusement among the Gaels of Scotland were the “Ursgeuls,” noble or romantic tales, which upwards of thirty years ago were collected and published (1859-62) by J. F. Campbell, Esq., of Islay. They were not produced in the heroic ages, the period of the great mass of our ballad literature. The ballads and the tales, no doubt, have been mixed together; but the latter are distinctly of a later growth. Some of the tales were manufactured as recently as the eighteenth century; but the most of them belong to the pre-Reformation period. Some of them are traceable to classical sources; others indicate relationship with Oriental stories. From Japan to the Hebrides, as shown by Mr Campbell in his introduction and notes to the four volumes of his “West Highland Tales,” are found the relics of the same original “Sgeulachd,” with the modifications which country, clime, and circumstance would naturally necessitate. In their fundamental lines or conceptions these tales are the common property of the whole Aryan race—of the Hindoo in the east, and of the German and Celt of the west. The study of talelogy, as well as philology, leads us to the common origin of all the members of the Indo-European family. Many of the Highland tales must have been matured under the spirit that the crusades into the east invoked in the west. We find reference in them to Turks, Greeks, Romans, Spaniards, Franks, &c., and to conditions of life which show their close relations to mediæval times. They became the popular literary sustenance of the people, supplying the want which is met by the popular works of fiction or novels of the present day. We find every phase of character exhibited in their outlines, extravagant as many of them often are. They are still waiting classification.
Mr Campbell was a very enthusiastic collector of these tales for years. He traversed more than once the whole of the Highlands to gather up these fragments of bygone Celtic life. His success far exceeded his sanguine anticipations. His volumes constitute the monument of his success, as well as of the industry, talent, and scientific spirit which he brought to bear upon the work. He had many hearty assistants in all parts of the Highlands, whom he inspired [with much of his] own enthusiasm. Mr Hector MacLean, of Ballygrant, Islay, an able Gaelic scholar, and a man of real culture and literary talent, helped him in transcribing the Gaelic, while he himself transferred the tales into literal idiomatic English. It has been fortunate for our limited Gaelic literature that Mr Campbell has left us so much of our popular prose in these goodly four volumes, and so much of genuine ballad poetry in his “Leabhar na Féinne.” I give a specimen of these tales in translation. Space will not admit of giving the sgeulachd complete; but enough is presented to illustrate the general style and character. The reader of these tales realises at once their kinship with the Danish tales of Andersen, the German stories of Grimm, and the Welsh Mabinogion translated by Lady Guest.
MAOL A’ CHLIOBAIN.
There was a widow once of a time, and she had three daughters, and they said to her that they were going to seek their fortunes. She prepared three bannocks. She said to the big daughter, “Whether do you like best the little half with my blessing, or the big half with my curse?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half with your curse.” She said to the middle one, “Whether do you like best the big half with my curse, or the little half with my blessing?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half with your curse.” She said to the little one, “Whether do you like best the big half with my curse, or the little half with my blessing?” “I like best the little half with your blessing.” This pleased her mother, and she gave her the other half likewise.
They left, but the two elder ones did not wish to have the younger one with them, and they tied her to a stone. They held on, and when they looked behind them whom did they see coming but her with the rock on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached a stack of peats, and they tied her to the peat-stack. They held on for a while, when whom did they see coming but her with the stack of peats on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached a tree, and they tied her to the tree. They held on, and whom did they see coming but her with the tree on her back. They saw that there was no use meddling with her. They loosed her and they let her come with them. They were travelling till night overtook them. They saw a light far from them, and if it was far from them they were not long reaching it. They went in. What was this but the house of a giant. They asked to remain overnight. They got that, and they were set to bed with the three daughters of the giant.
There were turns of amber beads around the necks of the giant’s daughters, and strings of hair around their necks. They all slept, but Maol a’ Chliobain kept awake. During the night the giant got thirsty. He called to his bald rough-skinned lad to bring him water. The bald rough-skinned lad said that there was not a drop within. “Kill,” said he, “one of the strange girls, and bring me her blood.” “How will I know them?” said the bald rough-skinned lad. “There are turns of beads about the necks of my daughters, and turns of hair about the necks of the rest.” Maol a’ Chliobain heard the giant, and as quickly as she could she put the strings of hair that were about her own neck and the necks of her sisters about the necks of the giant’s daughters, and the beads that were about the necks of the giant’s daughters about her own neck and the necks of her sisters, and laid herself quietly down. The bald rough-skinned lad came and killed one of the daughters of the giant, and brought him her blood. He bade him bring him more. He killed the second one. He bade him bring him more, and he killed the third. Maol a’ Chliobain wakened her sisters, and she took them on her back and went away. The giant observed her, and he followed her.