Legendary Heroes

of

Ireland

By

HAROLD F. HUGHES

1922

HARR WAGNER PUBLISHING CO.

San Francisco, Cal.

Copyright

1922

Harold F. Hughes

DEDICATION

TO MY FATHER

WHOSE TALES OF THE IRISH HEROES

FIRST OPENED TO ME THE

WONDERLAND OF

CELTIC FOLKLORE

TEACHER’S PREFACE

These stories are offered in the hope that they may help promote the love of reading in our boys and girls. After all, our duty in teaching reading is not in the subject matter but in the desire. If we show to the child that the art of reading is the golden key which will unlock the storehouse of life enjoyment, and give him the love for the secrets of the printed page, we may consider that our educational effort has been well spent. So the primary object in writing these stories has not been to chronicle history but to give the child something interesting and entertaining.

The early Celts have little literature other than these stories, which have been handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. Most of the tales in this book have been taken from the Ossianic Saga. Whether Finn belongs to history or mythology detracts no jot from the absorbing interest of his exploits.

I have tried to make the story of Finn something of a connected narrative. To do this I have taken incidents from various versions; I have left out much unsuitable to children, and I have changed some incidents to conform to the modern standards of morals. The chronology of arrangement is my own, but I have tried to preserve the spirit of the originals.

No collection of Irish folk stories could be brought out were it not for the work of those many scholars who have spent years in collecting and translating the tales of the Celtic race. To our American linguist, Jeremiah Curtin, and to the Irish scholars: Sir Douglas Hyde, Dr. Joyce, Eleanor Hull, Lady Gregory, T. W. Rolleston and others, my thanks are due. Their splendid research work has made possible such a volume as this.

Harold F. Hughes.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

That evening Cool climbed to the window
From Birth of Finn

MYTHOLOGY OF IRELAND

Every race of people has its myths and hero tales. With those of the Greeks most of us are familiar. We have heard of Hercules, Perseus, Atlas and others, ever since we started to school. The early stories of a race are always entertaining as well as instructive. For that reason our school libraries contain the folk stories of the Japanese, the Norsemen, the Russians, the English, the American Indian, the negro and many others. The one people, of whose stories Americans know little, is the Celtic race, the forefathers of the Scotch and Irish of today, and the ancestors of many of us. This book is intended to make you acquainted with the ancient heroes of the Celts.

Just as King Arthur is the early hero of the Anglo-Saxon people, so is Finn MacCool the renowned hero of the Celts. Like King Arthur he had gathered together a body of heroes, all of whom performed deeds of valor. In Scotland we find stories of this same hero, only the Scotch people call him Fingal.

Most of the stories which follow are tales of the adventures of Finn and his friend, Dermot. These tales are about events which are supposed to have taken place nearly two thousand years ago.

No doubt you wonder how we know anything about people who lived so long ago. The very name, folk stories, explains it. Folk stories are told by the folk, or people, of the country. Sometimes we find the tales written in an ancient book, but most of them come down through the centuries by one person telling the story to another.

You know that when you hear a good story, you like to tell it to little brother or sister or some playmate. That is just the way the folk stories come to us. In some countries there were bards or poets who went around and sang of the old heroes. We often read of these men in Scotch history. The most common way of preserving the stories, however, was by the father and mother telling their children of the ancient heroes. These children grew up and repeated the tales to their own families, and so the story was preserved through the ages.

There is an old Irish legend that explains this method very nicely.

Finn had a son named Ossian, of whom you will read a great deal as we go on. This son was a poet and sang the deeds of his father in verse. The story runs that before the great battle of Gowra, Ossian had fallen in love with a fairy and had gone to Fairyland to live. He lived in this land of youth for four hundred years, growing no older. At the end of that time he wanted to go back to earth and see if he could see any of his old friends. Time went so quickly in Fairyland that he did not realize how long he had been away.

His fairy wife gave him a horse to ride and warned him that he must not touch a foot to the ground. Then Ossian rode away.

He came to Erin and rode through the scenes of his adventures. He was surprised not to find any of his old friends. Not only that, he found that the men were very much smaller than those of his time. He saw six of them trying to roll a stone which his father could have moved with one hand. He grew so sorry for them that he forgot all about his wife’s orders. He got off his horse to move the stone. The instant he touched the ground he became a wrinkled and bent old man.

Then, the story tells us, the people took him to St. Patrick, and he told this Irish saint the stories of Finn and his companions.

It is a very pretty story to explain how these legends became known. Of course, it is not true, but it shows the imagination of the Irish people. They believe in fairies and witches and the powers of enchantment. You will find that this belief enters into all the stories. That is another thing about folk tales. Each person who tells them adds something to them.

No doubt you have been to parties where a game something like this was played: The players form a long row. Then the one on the end whispers something to his neighbor, this person whispers what he heard to the next player, and so on. The last player tells what has been told him. It is nearly always something entirely different from the story which started.

Folk stories grow in just that manner. The different provinces of Ireland have different versions of the stories. In some parts of the country Finn is the hero, and Dermot proves untrue to him. In another province, Dermot is the splendid man and Finn is a cruel tyrant. The stories which follow in this book are combined from those of all the provinces. This book is not a history. It is a collection of interesting stories about heroes who, possibly, never existed.

II.

You should know something of how stories of this kind are gathered together. Many were taken down by the priests of early times, but none were ever written until nearly a thousand years ago. Undoubtedly large numbers of them have been lost by the death of the only person who knew them.

It is only in the last few years that the Irish scholars have tried to gather these tales together. There are many of these collectors of Irish hero stories. Most of them, of course, are Irish, but America has furnished one man who long will be remembered because of his work along this line.

Jeremiah Curtin was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 1840. He died in 1906. Into those sixty-six years he crowded the work of several ordinary men. He had a great love for the languages and history. When he graduated from Harvard, he was so well acquainted with Russian that he went to St. Petersburg, now Petrograd, as Secretary of the American Legation. While there he became interested in Russian literature and the folk stories of the people. He translated many Russian books into English and also collected a volume of their folk tales.

Many men would have been satisfied with this. Mr. Curtin was not. He became connected with the Smithsonian Institute and while there studied the folk tales of the various Indian tribes. He wrote two books of these stories.

He next took up the study of Irish folk lore. He spent a great deal of time in Ireland collecting the stories which appear in three books. Whenever he heard of some old man or woman who knew an old story, he went to that place and got the person to tell it to him, writing it down as it was told. Many times it was one he had already heard, but that could not discourage Mr. Curtin. As a result of this care his books are very valuable to the older students of folk lore.

What an interesting life this man must have led! Think of the work he must have done to learn the many languages well enough to get the stories. We think we are well educated if we can read two or three languages beside our own. Mr. Curtin, when he died, was familiar with sixty languages!

And now that we know something about how folk lore is collected, we are ready to make the acquaintance of Finn and his Fenian warriors.

THE FENIANS

The stories of the great heroes of Ireland, or Erin as it used to be called, are gathered in groups around certain men. The Fenians whom Finn MacCool commanded from the age of ten until his death, was a body of military men about whom the best known stories are told.

These Fenians might be said to correspond to our standing army. There were three groups of a thousand men each in peace times. In time of war the number could be expanded enough to take in all who wished to fight. Some people claim that Finn and his Fenians never existed. Others say that this body of men did exist from 400 years before the birth of Christ until they were destroyed in a great battle in the year 284 A. D. Whether they formed a real army or not does not spoil our enjoyment of their deeds of bravery.

In reading the exploits of the Fenians it is necessary to remember that to the Irish mind these men were either gods or giants, many times the size of people of the present day. If you forget this you will not be able to understand how one hero can hold back a whole army of ordinary soldiers, and how strokes of their swords cut off whole hilltops and formed new valleys.

To become a Fenian was a great honor. It was only open to men of the best families and of the highest character, and many of these were not able to pass the tests required.

In the first place a Fenian must be well educated in poetry and must be able to write it himself. In other words, he must have all the education which those days gave. Again, he must pledge himself to be kind and gentle to the weak and oppressed, to be willing to fight when challenged and to keep up the battle until he won or was killed. He must promise never to injure the common people, not to allow gold to make him false to his friends, not to accept a dowry with a wife. He must agree not to run away from nine or less champions, and his parents must pledge themselves not to seek revenge if he was killed in battle.

The physical tests were even harder to pass. The candidate must have his hair braided, take his spear in his hand and through the forest. After he was given sufficient start he was pursued by other Fenians. If he was overtaken, he was wounded and rejected. If his spear trembled, or if he broke a dry branch in his flight, that also barred him out. Then, when the trial was over, his braids were examined. If he had shaken them out of position, proving that he had had to work hard to get away, he had to give up all hopes of joining.

Another test consisted of placing him in a hole up to his waist and giving him a shield in one hand and a hazelwood stick in the other. Nine warriors with nine spears formed in a circle and threw at him. If he was wounded he was not accepted. No wonder that a man who passed such tests was ready to face great numbers of ordinary soldiers.

A Fenian had also to be very nimble and supple. One of the tests was to put up a lath on the level of his eyebrows and another farther on, just the height of his knees. The man had to go at full speed, leaping over the first one and going under the second without slackening his pace. The boys who read this have only to try this test to realize that a Fenian would be a winner on a track team of today.

It was men who could pass such tests who made up the kind of heroes commanded by Cool, Gaul of Morna and Finn. These are the three great leaders mentioned in the stories. Cool made them a mighty band; Gaul held them together after the death of Cool; Finn was the last and greatest leader.

THE BIRTH OF FINN

The first great chief of the Fenians was Cool. He was a mighty warrior and splendid hero. He it was who organized these men into an army of strength, which he governed wisely but sternly.

Over Cool was Conn, the High King, known as Conn the Hundred Fighter, because he had been victorious in a hundred battles. It was Conn whom Cool and his men had to swear to honor and defend. Conn’s principal city, the one in which he held his court, was known as Tara. These facts it is necessary to know before we can understand the story which follows.

In one part of the kingdom, in the castle of Alma, dwelt an old chief and his beautiful daughter, Murna. The girl was kept within the castle under heavy guard and no man was allowed to see or speak to her. There was a reason for this harsh treatment. When she was born a prophet told her father that her son would take his land and title from him. As the old chief was very fond of his castle he thought he would make a grandson impossible by never allowing his daughter to marry.

One day Cool rode by the castle and saw Murna at the upper window. He was greatly struck by her beauty.

“Who is the maiden?” he asked one of his advisers.

“It will do you little good to know,” replied the man. “Her father has forbidden any man to wed her.”

“The men of this district must have little spirit to allow such a prize to go unwon,” remarked Cool.

“You would not think so if you saw the number of guards always in place to make such a thing impossible,” was the reply.

Cool said no more. That evening he went back to the castle, overpowered the guards and climbed to the window at which he had seen the girl. When she saw this mighty hero at her window, she let him in and they talked together. Cool was already in love with her from having seen her beautiful face, but after he had talked with her and found her as gentle and sweet as she was beautiful, he vowed that he would have no one but her for a wife. Any girl of Ireland would have been proud to be wooed by such a splendid hero. The maiden was sure that she could never love any one else, so Cool took her away. They were married that very night.

You can imagine how the old chief felt about this theft of his daughter and her marriage. He saw now that the prophecy might come true. He hastened to the High King and told his story.

This put Conn in a puzzling position. As a man he sympathized with Cool, but as a King he saw that the chief was justified in complaining. He ordered Cool to appear before him.

“Do you deny that you stole the chief’s daughter for your wife?” he asked.

“I do not,” said Cool stoutly.

“Do you think that the proper conduct for a Fenian?” asked the King.

“Is it not the rule of the Fenians to help the weak who are oppressed?” asked Cool in answer.

“This maiden was not oppressed,” said the old chief. “She was my daughter and under my protection.”

“Any maiden is oppressed who is not allowed to love and be loved by the man of her choice,” said Cool. “If you had permitted anyone to seek her in marriage she would not have been taken from you by force.”

King Conn hated to decide. He did not wish to offend the leader of his army, nor could he afford to make an enemy of the old chief and lose his fealty. He finally decided that he could replace his leader more easily, so he ruled that Cool must give back the maiden.

Now Cool had been greatly in love with Murna when he took her from the castle, but having her for his wife had made her more dear to him. He decided that life would not be worth living without her. He defied Conn to take her from him.

The hermit killed Cool and took his head to Gaul
From Birth of Finn

With his beautiful bride and those Fenians who were more loyal to him than to the High King, Cool fled to the forest. There he defended himself and for some time kept at bay the forces of Conn.

After Cool fled the leadership of the Fenians was given to Gaul of Morna, another brave warrior. In the course of the battle Cool and the new leader met in single combat. All day long they fought fiercely and bravely; Gaul to show himself brave enough to lead the army and Cool for his wife and his happiness. In the evening Cool weakened and he received a wound which made it impossible to fight on. Gaul thought too much of his old leader to kill him while he lay wounded, so he withdrew.

It so happened that another witnessed this battle. It was an old hermit who lived by himself in the forest. This man was reputed to have great knowledge. It proved that he had also a great desire to make himself popular with the High King. He did what Gaul would not do—he killed the wounded Cool and took his head to Gaul.

In place of receiving the praise he wanted, he found Gaul greatly displeased. The hermit was driven out of the camp as a coward, with sticks and stones hurled after him as a reward.

With the defeat of their leader the rebel Fenians surrendered, and the young widow was left without protection. She must either go back to her father or hide in the forest. The latter course was the one she chose.

Poor girl, she was not used to such treatment. She became very weak and ill. At last she gave up and approached an old hut in the forest. Here she was taken in by an old woman, who fed her and nursed her.

It was in this hut that the baby, who was to become such a great hero, was born. Murna stayed in the hut until the baby could be left, fearful that each day would bring the searchers sent out by her father, who would kill her child. She finally decided that the baby would be safer if she went back to the castle of Alma. She pledged the old woman to raise the child but to tell no one who he was. The woman promised and Murna went back to her father.

FINN’S BOYHOOD

Many stories are told of the boyhood of this hero. He grew tall and straight with long fair hair and bright blue eyes. Because of his complexion he was called Finn, which means “The Fair”.

Living among the wild things of the forest he grew like them. No deer could run away from him, he could run at full speed without cracking a dry branch, he could track any animal by the prints on the forest floor, while his eyes were as keen as those of an eagle.

An early adventure of the boy reminds one of the story told of Putnam, our hero of Revolutionary days. I refer to the story of the killing of the wolf. In the case of Finn it was a wildcat. While he was still a very young child his friends of the forest were greatly annoyed by the visits of a vicious wildcat. This animal made steady attacks on the flocks and herds of the people of the forest.

The men hunted for the animal without result. No one thought of Finn as a hunter and he told no one of his intention. With his knowledge of tracking he found the trail of the wildcat and followed it to its lair in a deep cave. Without hesitation he went right in until he found the animal.

There was no space in the cave for the use of a sword, so Finn did not draw it. Instead he attacked the animal with his bare hands. He caught it by the throat and held it until it ceased its struggles. Then he carried the dead beast back and showed it to the surprised residents of the forest. Its skin afterwards became part of his costume.

When he was old enough for books, the old woman gave him into the charge of the hermit of the forest. This man taught him the “Twelve Books of Poetry”, which seems to be about all the people of those days learned from books. Finn was a bright pupil and very early became skilful enough to write poetry himself.

I am afraid that the hermit took little interest in the teaching of his pupil. You see, the man was deeply interested in gaining wisdom for himself. He had placed his hut on the bank of a little stream, not, as you suppose, so that he would have water for cooking, but because this was the stream mentioned in the prophecy as the one up which the Salmon of Knowledge would come.

In the folk stories of many races we find the salmon considered as the wisest of fishes. In Ireland, however, there was the story of this particular salmon which would some day swim up the stream. The man who ate the flesh of this fish would be ever afterwards the wisest man in the country.

The prophecy said that the fish would come when the man who was to eat him arrived. As no one knew who this was to be, the hermit had hopes that the fish would come to him.

Finn helped to watch for this wonderful fish. This was a task he loved, and it was one to which he was well suited on account of his keen eyes. One afternoon, while he lay on the bank, a big, beautiful salmon swam slowly toward him. The sunlight glistened on his scales that shone like silver.

The big fish swam right in front of him, turning back and forth in the sunlight and showing very plainly that it did not intend swimming away. At last Finn remembered that it was a fish he was waiting for, so he reached into the water for it. The salmon offered no fight, but allowed the boy to lift him out upon the bank.

Of course the hermit was delighted to see the fish. He knew at once that it was the Salmon of Knowledge. He felt that he was already the wisest man in the country. But even with knowledge so close to him he still had a desire to have some one else do the work. He set his pupil at the task of cooking the fish, cautioning him against eating a bite of it. Then he went off to take a nap.

Finn sat before the fire turning the fish slowly. He, too, had heard of the Salmon of Knowledge, but he never guessed that this was the one. Neither did he have any idea that he was the person of the prophecy. He did not even know who he was, nor anything about his father or mother. As he turned the smoking fish he got his thumb against the meat and burnt it severely. To ease the pain he put it in his mouth and sucked the sore thumb.

That was all that was necessary to give him knowledge. He sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. Buckling on his sword he went in and roused the hermit from his sleep. What the man saw in his pupil’s eyes frightened him.

“Did you eat that salmon?” demanded the hermit.

“I but burnt my finger on it and sucked the place,” said Finn. “That was enough. I know now that I am the son of Cool and that you killed him while he lay wounded. Get up and defend yourself, for I am about to avenge my father!”

Finn was but a boy, but already the strength of a champion was coming to him. The hermit fought for his life, but he was no match for the son of the man he had treacherously killed. He quickly paid for his foul deed, and Finn ate the Salmon of Knowledge, as it was intended he should.

From that time on he had more wisdom than the wisest man in Ireland. Not only that, but when in times of stress he desired to know the outcome of a battle or an adventure, by biting the thumb which had been burned he could tell the result. In other stories you will see how this knowledge aided him. Of course, you will wonder why he ever made mistakes with such a gift. I am unable to tell you that. Many of the adventures we read of a wise man would never have attempted. Probably he only used this thumb in times of great importance for fear that if he used it for everything the great gift would leave him.

FINN CLAIMS HIS INHERITANCE

A tremendous gathering of the men of Erin had come together at the city of Tara, the central city of the realm. The Fenians were camped in a circle around the outskirts. At night the lights of their campfires made a circle of fire as though to protect it from danger.

Conn, the High King, was holding court in the great banquet hall where a thousand of the chiefs and champions were gathered with him. This hall was seven hundred sixty feet long, ninety feet wide and built of hewn logs. Down each side ran a double row of benches with hewn tables in front of them. In each row were two hundred fifty of the finest manhood of Erin. Their weapons and shields rested against the walls behind them while they ate. Down the center was a row of fires over which, on spits, great roasts of meat were cooking. An army of cooks were constantly busy, tending the fires, turning the spits and carrying food to the tables.

At the end of the hall on a raised platform sat Conn, his son Arthur, and Gaul of Morna, leader of the Fenians. They were in earnest consultation.

One would have thought that such a gathering of heroes at a feast would have been a jolly one. It was not so. A deep silence hung over all. Men ate in silence with gloomy faces and downcast eyes, sad because they felt that it would be their last gathering in that splendid hall.

Suddenly a voice rang out through the silence. Clear and firm it was, so that every word was heard the length of the hall.

“Conn, High King of Erin, a lonely and disinherited youth, without money and without friends, claims thy hospitality!”

The men of Erin looked at the newcomer in surprise. They saw a youth about ten years of age, clad in the skins of the forest animals. Hanging at his belt in front was a great sword, while his skin covered shield hung over his shoulders at the back. His fair hair fell to his shoulders, while his blue eyes caught the glint of light from the spears along the wall and shot it back like flashes of sunlight. It was Finn, son of Cool, appearing for the first time before the Fenians.

The High King had matters of too much weight on his mind to take much heed of the boy who claimed what no king at that time would refuse—a place at the table and a bed. He motioned to Finn to take his place with the others and went on with his discussion.

Finn ate with the other men of Erin. He said no word until he had finished his meal. Then he arose and once more addressed the High King.

“I know it is not customary for a stranger to note that there is anything wrong in the house of his host, but I am impressed by your look of sadness and the silence of the men of Erin. Is aught amiss that may be told to a stranger?”

“Our troubles are not secret, though it shames me to tell them,” answered the High King. “Tonight is the time set for the destruction of Tara, and I am powerless to save it. Each year for nine years, at the midnight hour of this night, the giant Midna appears and throws balls of fire at the city until it is destroyed. Each year I have rebuilt it, only to know that my work is to last but for a year. The women and children have been sent away. Only the Fenians remain to witness my shame. Do you wonder, O Youth, that we are sick at heart?”

“And is there no brave champion or youth anxious to prove his bravery who can go out and meet this giant?” asked Finn.

“Alas, no,” sighed the High King. “It is not that the men of Erin are lacking in bravery. Many have tried without result. When Midna is ready to destroy, he plays fairy music upon his pipes, and not a man can stay awake. When sleep leaves our eyes he is gone, and the city is a heap of ashes. We watch again tonight, but we have no hopes of success.”

Of course Finn, having eaten the Salmon of Knowledge, knew this as well as anybody. His purpose in asking for information was to obtain a promise from Conn.

“What shall be the reward of him who slays the giant and saves the city?” asked Finn.

“If such a feat be possible, no reward that he shall ask will be refused,” answered the High King.

“Even to the return of my inheritance?” asked Finn.

“Yes, fair youth,” answered Conn. “Even if your inheritance be my crown, and my son and I must become your vassals, it shall be returned to you.”

“Is that your promise, O King, made before all these men of Erin?” insisted Finn.

“It is,” declared the king, stepping down and putting his hand in that of the boy. “My hand is my pledge that I will do as I promise.”

“Then I shall attempt the trial,” said Finn.

He waved back all offers of spears and shields from the men of Erin and went out by himself into the darkness. He sought out a place in a dark grove and waited quietly. Soon a man appeared, bearing a large cloak and a heavy spear. The spear handle was studded with nails of gold, but the point was incased in a leather covering. The man gave Finn directions for the use of the articles and disappeared.

Soon the lights in the banquet hall went out, as the champions went to their posts in the circle defending the city. No man spoke to his neighbor. That would have been useless since every man had his ears filled with wax in the hopes that he might shut out the sound of the strange, sweet music that put all to sleep.

Finn climbed a hill overlooking the city. His knowledge told him that here it was the giant would come. Soon he heard in the distance the sound of pipes. The music lulled his senses, his eyelids drooped, his head began to nod. Not till then did he take the leather covering from the spear head. It glowed like fire and little tongues of light shot out in all directions. From the spear came the sound of many voices crying out together. Finn pressed the point to his forehead. The pain of the burning was stronger than the spell of the music.

Soon the lights of the circle began to reel and go out as one after another of the Fenians came under the spell of the music. At last only the lights of the stronger chiefs were burning.

The music then changed to the sweetness of strings. Once again Finn had to press the spear head to his forehead. The lights went out one by one until there was but one left, that of Conn, and it was reeling like that of a drunken man. Then it, too, went out. Tara was unprotected by her army.

And now Finn heard the sound of heavy feet. There was a splashing of water as of one crossing a river. Finn looked in the direction of the sound and beheld a mighty mountain of man ascending the hill on which he stood. It was the giant Midna.

Midna looked over the city lying at his mercy and laughed aloud. He blew from his mouth a red fire ball which was to begin the destruction of the city. Finn reached out his cloak and caught the ball in its folds, where it died out harmlessly. The amazed giant shot another and another at the city, but not one passed the folds of Finn’s cloak.

At first, I suppose, the giant thought that he was shooting a poor grade of fire balls that evening. When, however, he looked to the place where they disappeared and saw Finn catching them in his cloak, he let out a roar of fear and ran back toward his home as quickly as he could. Probably he had heard some prophecy that told him of the coming of this boy, dressed in skins; maybe he saw that Finn’s powers were greater than his; anyway he did not pause for battle, but ran with all the speed he possessed.

Finn gave chase. He was, you remember, very fleet of foot, but the giant’s legs were many times longer and the distance grew between them. The spear flamed brightly and seemed struggling to get free.

“Go then, if you will,” cried Finn, as he hurled it after the fast disappearing giant.

Like a meteor in the night sky the spear sped through the darkness and disappeared. Finn ran on after it. He found the giant dead at the door of his cave in the hillside. The spear had passed through his body and disappeared.

With his sword Finn took the enchanter’s head as proof that he had won the battle. When he passed the place where he had dropped the cloak he found nothing. Like the spear, it disappeared when its work was done. Finn placed the head of the giant on a pole in front of the banquet hall so that all might see it in the morning.

And then, after it was all over, he became very faint and sick. The use of the weapons of magic had taken all the strength out of his body. He reeled like a drunken man toward the spring which furnished water for the banquet hall. Finn had another power of which I must tell you. By bringing water in his cupped hands to one sick or wounded he could restore him to health. He used this power now and drank from his own hands. At once his sickness passed. Then he lay down and slept.

In the morning he woke early and gave a mighty shout.

Even though their ears were filled with wax the Fenians could not fail to hear his voice. They struggled from their sleep and rubbed their eyes in astonishment to see, not a heap of smoking ruins, but Tara, resplendent in the morning sun.

They came with all speed, Conn and Gaul in the lead, to the spot where Finn stood pointing at the head of their late enemy.

“Who are you, brave youth?” asked Conn. “You are no common man since you have done what no one else could do.”

Then Finn drew himself up and in a loud voice cried:

“I claim my inheritance—the castle of Alma and the leadership of the Fenians. I am Finn, son of Cool, and these things belong to me in my right.”

“What I have promised I will fulfill,” declared Conn. “I give you your inheritance the more willingly because your father was my friend and loyal subject until I decided unfairly against him.”

Then Gaul of Morna gave up the leadership of the Fenians and put his hand in that of Finn to show that he was willing to be his friend and follower. The other leaders followed his example. It must have gone hard with some of these mighty chiefs to swear fealty to a ten year old boy. The only thing that made such a thing possible was that Finn had done something no other of them could do and had entered the class of a champion by killing the giant.

Thus Finn MacCool became the leader of the Fenians.

FINN AND THE SCOTTISH GIANT

This story is one told by the Irish peasants in explaining a bridge of rock off the northern coast of their country. It is a typical Finn story, showing that leader’s strength and his wisdom. The giant who had a secret of strength is found in the folk lore of many nations. No doubt you remember the Bible hero, Samson, who lost his strength with the cutting of his long hair. You may compare him with the Scottish giant.

When Finn was not training his men or traveling in search of adventure, he used to visit the old woman who had raised him. The stories do not mention his ever having seen his real mother. The foster-mother takes her place. Finn built a cottage for her in the northern part of the country and saw to it that she never needed anything.

One day, while visiting the woman, he stood on the rocky coast looking out over the ocean. Over on the coast of Scotland he saw a giant of tremendous proportions. This fellow seemed to be driving pillars into the ocean and was working very hard. He saw Finn in the distance and called out:

“You might as well settle up your business, because when I get through with you there will not be much of you left to talk about!”

The giant’s voice was a mighty roar which carried nicely over the miles separating them. Now Finn had heard of this giant and the threat did not frighten him in the least. He called back in a voice nearly as strong as the giant’s own:

“Come over any time you like. You’ll need more than a bridge to take you back after I get through with you.”

The giant said no more, so Finn went back to the cottage. He knew that his men had boasted to the Scottish people about the great strength of their leader. He also knew that the Scotch giant was anxious to settle the question as to which was the better man. Now, Finn was afraid of no man. Having bested every champion in Ireland he was always anxious to try his strength against any new hero who appeared.

Each morning he went out and watched the giant building the bridge across the channel. When the man began to get nearer, Finn got an idea of his size. He was at least four times the size of the Irish hero and the way he handled the great stone pillars showed that his strength was tremendous. Finn saw that if the giant got hold of him as he did a rock pillar, he would have little chance of escaping alive.

As I have told you, Finn was no coward. You also know that he was no fool. He was noted for wisdom as well as strength. He saw that a combat at close quarters with such a mountain of muscle would be foolish. He began to devise plans for getting the better of the giant when the bridge should be finished.

When he saw that the work would last but a few days more he no longer went to the shore but kept at home out of sight. He enlisted the aid of his foster-mother in the preparations for the giant’s arrival. He brought in a large stone as big as a water bucket and placed it on a shelf in the cottage. Then he had the woman make, from the whey of sour milk, a ball large enough to fill his two hands. This he placed near the rock.

Next he had the woman bake several cakes of meal. A few were just the ordinary ones such as they ate regularly, but in the middle of the others he had her put plates of solid iron. These cakes were placed in the cupboard close at hand. When you see how these different things were used you will see that Finn had a perfect plan worked out.

Then Finn told his foster-mother all the things she must do and in what order each was to come.

“I fear that he will be too much for you,” said the woman.

“He would be as he is,” declared Finn. “By biting my thumb I learn that the secret of his strength is in one of his fingers—which one I cannot tell. It shall be your task to find out the finger.”

At last the day came on which the bridge was completed. A messenger was sent out to give the giant directions for reaching the cottage, while Finn himself, dressed as a baby, got into the big cradle he had built for the purpose.

Soon the doorway darkened. The great giant stood there looking in. He was an ugly and terrible looking fellow with two great teeth sticking out of his jaw like those of a walrus. The doorway was a large one, but the giant filled it, shutting out the light behind him.

“I am looking for the fellow who calls himself Finn MacCool,” roared the giant in a voice that shook the walls of the house.

Finn’s foster-mother sat calmly rocking the cradle and working on some clothes she was mending. To look at her one would have thought that the visit of a giant was an everyday occurrence.

“And who might you be?” she asked.

“That’s no matter,” growled the giant. “I’ve come from Scotland to see him and I’m in a hurry.”

“Oh, you must be that foolish fellow who thinks he wants to have a trial with Finn,” suggested the woman.

“Foolish!” roared the giant. “Show me where he is and you will soon find out which one is the foolish one!”

“Come right in,” said the woman. “I am very sorry, but Finn is away and will not be back until tomorrow. He waited for you as long as he could. You see, you were so long in coming he decided that you had become frightened and had turned back, so he went off to attend to some business. Just as he left he said to me, ‘If that fellow from Scotland gets here while I am gone, treat him well and get him to stay. I would not miss knocking a trial out of him at any cost.’”

“Well, he won’t miss me,” answered the giant. “I’ll wait.”

“Come right in then,” said the woman. “I will give you a bite to eat.”

The giant thrust himself through the doorway into the room. Inside, where he could straighten himself up, he looked more terrible than before. As there was no seat in the cottage big enough for him he leaned against the wall, which bulged out with his weight. The woman busied herself before the fire.

“Who is that?” asked the giant, pointing to Finn in the cradle.

“That’s Finn’s little baby,” answered the woman. “I wish you would be more quiet while you are in here. The baby is just beginning to cut his teeth, and he is very cross if he awakens suddenly.”

The giant really tried to soften his voice, but the result was very funny. When he was speaking very softly, his voice was like that of a fog horn in a coast light house.

“Dear me,” sighed the woman after a while. “This fire draws so poorly! The wind is in the wrong direction. If Finn were here he would turn the house around so that the fire would do better.”

“What Finn can do will be only a small task for me,” said the giant.

He went outside, took the house by one corner and turned it so that it faced in a different direction. You can believe that the woman was thoroughly frightened to see this exhibition of strength. She wondered what chance Finn would have against such a man. Still she believed in his wisdom, so she continued to carry out her instructions. When the giant came back she seemed very calm.

“Well, how is that?” asked the giant when he came in again.

“The fire draws better,” she admitted, “but you did it very clumsily. I thought you were going to shake the house to pieces. Finn lifts it around so easily that he jars not a thing on the shelves. But of course you are not nearly so strong as Finn.”

The giant was so crestfallen that he had nothing to say for some time.

“Oh, dear,” cried the woman a little later. “I am all out of water. Finn promised to split open the rock of the spring before he left, but he forgot all about it. I wonder if you could do it.”

“Of course I can,” said the giant. “Show me the rocks.”

The woman took up a bucket and led him to a place where two rocky hills sent up their peaks very close together.

“That is the place,” she said. “Finn intended pulling them apart when he had time so that we could have water nearby.”

The giant put a foot against one peak and took the other in his hands. With a mighty heave he separated the two hills and let the water stream out between them. The woman filled her bucket and went back to the house, the giant following her.

“How did that suit you?” he asked.

“You did that very well,” said the woman. “But of course that is hardly a man’s job.”

The giant seemed to feel keenly the fact that his strength made no impression on the woman. He looked around the room to see if he could find something else to talk about. He saw the big rock on the shelf.

“Perhaps you will tell me why you keep that rock on the shelf?” he asked.

“Oh, that,” said the woman as if it could be of no importance, “that is just a little trick of Finn’s. He uses it to practice on in the mornings.”

“Ho! Ho!” laughed the giant. “Why should he practice with such a rock as that?” He picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand as though it were an orange.

“He keeps up the strength of his fingers with it,” answered the woman. “Each morning he squeezes the water out of a rock. If you are the man Finn is you can do the same.”

The giant took the stone in his two hands and squeezed with all his might and main. Of course no water could come out of a solid rock. The first finger of his right hand sank into the stone with his efforts.

“Your one finger has a little strength,” said the woman. “If the rest of you had the force of that finger, you might get a few drops.”

“It is that finger which gives me my strength,” the foolish giant told her. Once more he took up the rock and squeezed the rock harder than ever with no result. The baby in the cradle set up a lusty cry.

“Poor baby,” said the woman. “He is sorry for you. His father lets him practice on a small rock. See what he can do.”

She gave Finn the ball of whey. Finn took it in his two hands and squeezed it, letting the water stream on the floor. The giant was amazed.

“It’s a pretty strong baby,” he admitted.

“It would have to be to belong to Finn MacCool,” said the woman.

The giant seemed to be thinking deeply. Perhaps he doubted his wisdom in coming to try conclusions with the father of such a baby.

Soon Finn’s foster-mother took one of the cakes from the cupboard and handed it to the giant.

“Take this,” she said. “It will help stay your appetite until I get you something better.”

The giant thanked her and bit down into the cake. As it was one of those with the iron core, all he succeeded in doing was to break off two of his teeth. He took the cake out of his mouth and felt his jaw.

“What’s the matter?” asked the woman. “Maybe those cakes are too hard for you. Finn wouldn’t eat them because they were too soft. I’ll get you another one.”

She passed the giant one more of the iron-filled cakes. Once more he bit into it and again he lost some teeth. He went to the door to spit them out. He did not seem to care for these cakes.

“You say Finn doesn’t like cakes as soft as that?” he asked.

“He won’t touch them,” she answered. “He leaves them for the baby.”

She took one of the ordinary cakes and gave it to Finn in the cradle. The giant looked on to see what happened. Finn ate the cake ravenously.

The giant was more puzzled than ever. He called for another cake and bit into it with all the strength of his jaws. It would be hard to tell just how many teeth he lost this time, but he could not get a bite off the cake. The woman gave Finn another and again it went down in a hurry.

“And you say he is just getting his teeth?” asked the giant.

“Just a few have come,” she answered.

“I’d like to have a feel of such teeth,” said the giant.

He put his strong finger in Finn’s mouth and felt for the teeth. This was just what Finn had been waiting for. As soon as the finger was in his mouth he clamped down his teeth and bit it off.

With the loss of his finger the giant’s extraordinary strength left him. Finn tore off the bed clothes and set upon him like a whirlwind. The walls bulged out. Most of the house was ruined. Finn’s foster-mother watched from the outside of the house. Soon she had the satisfaction of seeing the giant come dashing out of the house with Finn hammering him as he ran.

Only the fact that the giant’s legs were very long saved him from a worse beating. He got out on his bridge as fast as he could. Nor did he slow down until he got a good distance from the Irish shore. Then he threw down the pillars as fast as he could so that Finn would be unable to follow him.

The giant never tried to come back. He cleared out all the pillars on the Scottish side, but, you can well believe, he never went near the Irish shore again. To this day you can still see them standing out into the water, just as he left them in his hurry. People call the remaining pillars “The Giant’s Causeway” and this is the story they tell as to how it happens to be there.

The Black Druid appeared in the form of Finn
From the Story of Saba

THE STORY OF SABA

Finn always enjoyed a hunting excursion. In those days, when all the fighting was done with sword and spear, hunting was a different sport from what it is today. All the champions had fleet hounds, and they, themselves, from their training in speed, lagged little behind the dogs in the chase.

Finn had two beautiful hounds, Bran and Skolawn, which went with him at all times. He was very fond of them both. The stories tell that there were only two times in his life that he shed tears, and one of these was at the death of Bran.

One day Finn was out on the chase when the hounds gave tongue and set off at a rapid pace. You may be sure that Finn was not far behind them. When he came to a little glade among the trees, he saw a peculiar sight. There, on the turf beside a little stream, stood a beautiful doe. Finn raised his spear, but the strange behavior of the dogs stayed his hand. Instead of rushing at the deer, they approached her gently and licked the hair of her neck and shoulders.

The other Fenians came up and would have killed the animal had not Finn stopped them.

“No”, he cried. “She shall not be killed! If the dogs do not wish to harm her no one else shall.”

When Finn went back to his camp, the deer followed him with his dogs. When he went into his house, she lay down on the outside.

That night he awoke suddenly to find standing at his bedside the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Who are you?” he stammered, struggling from his sleep and rubbing his eyes.

“I am Saba, O Finn,” answered the maiden. “I am the deer you spared today.”

“The deer!” exclaimed Finn.

“That shape was put upon me by the Black Druid because I would not become his wife. I have wandered in the forest, pursued by man and beast, and many times I have nearly lost my life. I should have given up all hope had not a kindly slave of the Druid told me that if I could come safely into your camp I would be freed from the enchantment. I feared both dogs and men, but I trusted myself to your two hounds, which seemed to realize my helplessness.”

“Have no fear, fair Saba,” said Finn. “The Fenians fear no enchantment, and you will be safe while under our protection.”

Then Finn called his servants and had them prepare a room for the maiden. The remainder of the night he spent in dreams of the beautiful girl, who had come to him for protection.

Next morning Finn did not go out on the chase. He stayed in camp and talked to Saba. He found her even more beautiful in the daylight. The thought that she had to come to him for aid, added to her many charms, caused him to neglect everything for her. It ended by them both falling deeply in love with one another.

The feast for the wedding of Finn and Saba was an event in the life of the Fenians. Never had such a celebration been held in Ireland. Conn, the High King, and his son, Cormack, came. It could safely have been said that no king nor prince ever had a finer wedding or a more beautiful bride.

For months Finn would not leave his young wife. Adventures had no call to him; hunting had no charms. The love of this couple is one of the most beautiful ones in history.

But later there came a call to duty. Word came to Finn that the Danes had landed on the north coast of Erin, and that the Fenians were battling without their leader. This Finn could not allow. He got out his weapons and shield, mounted his horse and left for the scene of the battle.

His farewell to Saba was very touching. That she might have perfect protection while he was absent, he left behind a guard of some of his bravest men, with cautions that they must give their lives rather than lot her come under the power of the Black Druid.

For eight days and nights he fought the Danes. At the end of that time, with the foe driven back into the sea, he hastened to his young bride. His heart was filled with joyousness at the thought of being with her again.

But when he approached his home, he saw his men standing around in open-mouthed astonishment. Noting their look of fear, he called the chief of them to him.

“What has happened?” he asked. “Why is it my men look at me in such surprise. Did they not expect me to return?”

The chief seemed puzzled, too. “Were you not here three days ago?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” answered Finn. “Where is Saba? Did the Black Druid—”

“I am fearful, O Finn, that it was indeed he,” replied the chief. “Three days ago we saw you approaching with your two dogs at your side. Your wife went joyously forth to meet you. The man we thought was you took her up behind him, and then all disappeared in a mist. If it was not you, it must have been the Druid appearing in your shape.”

Finn, with his heart sad within him, searched every place from one end of Erin to the other, but without success. It was too true. His wife had disappeared as into a mist. It was undoubtedly the work of the Black Druid.

The boy stood with his back to the tree waiting for the hounds to attack
From the Story of Saba

Finn throughout all his life never ceased to mourn for Saba, nor to search for her. Six years after her disappearance, while hunting in the forest, he came upon a wild boy with straggly hair and fierce eyes. His only clothing was the skins of beasts. The hounds had found him, and when Finn came up, the boy was standing with his back to a tree, waiting to strangle the hounds if they came at him.

The sight reminded Finn of his own boyhood days. He called off the dogs and took the boy home with him. At first the little fellow was too timid and unused to language to speak. Gradually, however, his fear left him and he became able to tell of his life in the forest.

He could remember a woman who had dwelt with him in a cave. A dark man had come and pleaded with her for several days, but always she had refused to do what the man asked. At last he had become angry, had left the cave and had never returned. The little boy remembered that he had never seen the woman again. After that he had been tended by a beautiful deer.

Then Finn knew that the woman was Saba and that the wild boy was his own son. He understood what the boy could not. The Black Druid had enticed his wife away and tried once more to get her to marry him. When she persistently refused him, he had turned her back into a deer.

Once more Finn searched the forest, hoping that he might again find the gentle deer, which had come to him before. His quest was without result. Possibly the Druid saw to it that she should never get near him, but it was more likely that some hunter had killed her. Finn mourned her as dead and gave his attention to the raising of his boy.

He named the child Ossian, which means Little Faun. He taught him the poetry of the day and trained him in feats of arms. Ossian grew up to be a worthy son of his father. In all the later battles we read of what a splendid fighter he was. He and his son, Oscar, were always in the front in time of danger.

But Ossian was not only a great warrior. He inherited his father’s love for poetry and the ability to write it. We have great numbers of stories about the deeds of Finn and the Fenians, and the greater number are written by the poet, Ossian.

CONAN, THE BALD

Not all the warriors of the Fenians were noted for their bravery. It is now necessary that we become acquainted with Conan, the unheroic member of the band. The stories do not tell how he ever passed his entrance trials, or why he was allowed to remain a member. He did many things the Fenians considered as unworthy of them.

Conan was a man with an evil tongue. He never had a good word for any one. No matter what his companions did, Conan would never have a word of praise for them. He would make sneering remarks about the feat. This did not mean that he would have done better himself. Far from it! He was a great coward and shirked any task which had any danger attached to it.

The fact that he had lost all his hair gave him his name. But there was something else about him that gave the Fenians a great deal of amusement. Whenever his armor was cut at the back, it showed everyone that he had the back of a sheep. When you hear how he got such a back, you will not wonder why the Fenians enjoyed the joke so much.

One day Finn, Conan and several other heroes were out hunting. All day long they had followed the chase, and in the afternoon they arrived in a new country, before a beautiful castle. Seeing no one around they went in. They found themselves in a large room, down the center of which ran a big table loaded with food. Along the sides of the table were rows of high-backed chairs.

As there was no one around, and as the feast seemed to have been just prepared, the men decided that it had been placed there for them. They sat down and began to eat. It was a delicious meal.

Suddenly something about the room made Finn look up from his food. When they had come in, the ceiling had been high and richly decorated. Now it was changing into the smoke-stained roof of a hut. Finn knew then that they had walked into an enchanted house, put there just to trap them. He called out a warning to his companions and ordered them all outside immediately.

When they were free from the house, and saw the great change that had taken place in it, they were, thankful for Finn’s wisdom in getting them out before it had been too late.

But they were not all out. Conan was still in the room eating like a pig. They called to him, urging him to hurry. He refused to leave such a fine array of food. At last two of the Fenians rushed in and took him by the arms. When they pulled at him they found that the enchantment was already beginning to work. He was growing fast to the back of the chair.

Conan was now thoroughly alarmed. He begged the men to pull him loose. The two Fenians pulled with all their might. With a mighty wrench they freed him, but his shirt and the skin of his back had grown fast to the chair.

He was in a very painful condition. Something had to be done to relieve him. He just lay on the ground and moaned and groaned.

“Kill a sheep and cover the wound with the skin of the animal,” ordered Finn.

The men did his bidding. The skin of the freshly killed sheep was cut to fit and bound to his sore back. Then Finn gave him a drink of water from his cupped hands and restored his strength to him. The sheepskin grew fast and could never be removed, so Conan always had to wear it.

With all Conan’s cowardice, he really did come out victorious in one battle. But when you hear of this particular combat, you will understand why the Fenians, instead of honoring him for it, had less respect for him than ever.

During the progress of one battle, when a hostile army had landed on the shores of Erin, one champion stood out in front each morning and demanded single combat.

“If you are not afraid of me,” he would call, “why don’t you send a man to meet me?”

He was not a great hero and the Fenians refused to be bothered with him alone. Finally, when they grew tired of hearing the challenge, as a joke they sent Conan out to fight with him. A roar of laughter came from the Fenians as Conan went cautiously out to meet this man. The enemy gave a cry of rage at the insult, and the champion called out angrily:

“What do you mean by sending a clown to meet me? Is there not a man among you who dares to face me?”

Conan came forward slowly, afraid for his life. When he got close to the champion, the latter said sarcastically:

“The Fenians seem anxious that I be left unharmed, since they send me such a dangerous foe.”

“You are in more danger from the man behind you, than from the one in front of you,” said the cowardly Conan.

The champion looked around to see what he meant. At that moment Conan swung his sword and cut off the man’s head.

This treacherous way of winning a combat angered Finn and the Fenians beyond all measure. They considered that Conan had disgraced them. It is a wonder they did not put him to death. His only punishment was banishment from the band for a short time. We find him in the later stories, just as full of trickery, just as cowardly and just as uncomplimentary to his companions, but still the butt of all their jokes.

DERMOT OF THE LOVE SPOT

One of the most splendid heroes of the Fenians was Dermot. His name is second only to that of Finn in the stories of valiant deeds. He was younger than his chief by many years, even younger than Ossian, Finn’s son. Dermot was the fleetest man of them all, and also the one with the keenest eyes. In many of the stories he is chosen for deeds of valor rather than Finn himself. This happens, however, when Finn is an old man, and his wisdom and leadership are of more value than his strength.

This young hero was the son of a god. In those days, however, gods could be wounded and could die. They lived on earth and needed food to live on, just the same as other men. The distinction between the Irish gods and heroes like Finn is very slight in the old stories. Dermot did have one gift no other Fenian possessed. His foster-father, the god Angus, had granted him a body that no weapon could wound. There was but one thing that could harm him. That was the tusks of a wild boar. His foster-father warned him never to hunt the boar unless it was absolutely necessary, and then to exercise every care so as not to be wounded by the tusks.

Dermot was a handsome man, with curling fair hair and blue eyes like those of his leader. He was Finn’s closest companion and greatly loved by him. His was the soul of honor. If he got into trouble it was from doing some task his honor demanded. His courage and strength were unquestioned. The Fenians always fought with more bravery if they knew Dermot was with them.

Such a handsome man could not help being very popular with the maidens of Erin. They liked him because of his strength and his handsome face. But it was the Love Spot on his forehead which made it impossible for any girl to look at him and not fall in love with him. You shall have to hear how he received this gift.

One day he was out hunting with Conan, Oscar and Gaul of Morna. As often happened in those days, the chase led them far from their camp. With the coming of darkness they began to look for a shelter for the night. They wandered around until they came upon a little house in the forest. When they knocked, a gray-haired man came to the door and inquired their errand.

“We ask for thy hospitality,” said Dermot.

“That you shall have,” declared the old man, throwing wide the door. “Come right in, and thousand welcomes to you.”