The Mythology of All Races/Volume 3/Celtic/Chapter 6

by John Arnott MacCulloch

CHAPTER VI
DIVINE ENMITY AND PUNISHMENT

THE gods were sometimes hostile to men, not always for obvious reasons, as is curiously illustrated in the Echtra Nerai, or Adventures of Nera, an introductory tale to the Táin Bó Cúalnge. Here the gods are regarded as demons appearing with great power on Samhain Eve (Hallowe'en). King Ailill offered a reward to anyone who on that night would tie a withe round the foot of a captive hanged the previous day; and several tried, but were afraid. Nera was bolder, but his withe kept springing off the corpse until it told him to put a peg in it, after which the dead body asked him to carry it on his back to the nearest house for a drink, because "I was thirsty when I was hanged." The house was surrounded by a fiery lake, and into it and a second, surrounded by a lake of water, they could not enter. In a third house the corpse found water and squirted it on the faces of the sleepers so that they died, after which Nera carried the dead body to the gallows. This part of the story is connected with the vampire belief. Nera returned to Ailill's fort, but found it burnt, and a heap of human heads lay near it. He followed a company leaving it and thus came to the síd of Cruachan, where its king sent him to a woman in one of its dwellings, bidding him bring firewood daily to the royal house. At this task he noticed a lame man carrying a blind man to a well, and daily the blind man asked, "Is it there.?" to which the lame man answered, "It is indeed; let us go away." The woman told Nera that they were guardians of the king's crown in the well, and when he described his adventures and the destruction of Ailill's fort, she explained that this was merely the glamour of an elfin host (sluag siabhra), but that It would happen, unless he warned his friends. When he returned, he would find them as he left them—a clear proof that he was in a timeless region. They must watch next Samhain Eve, unless they first destroyed the síd, and as proof of his statement he must take from the síd fruits of summer—wild garlic, primrose, and golden fern. Before his people came to destroy the síd, he must warn her so that she with his cattle and the child she would bear him might not lose their lives. Nera returned and obtained the reward, and Ailill resolved to destroy the síd. Meanwhile the woman carried the firewood, pretending that Nera was ill; and when he came to warn her, she bade him watch the cattle, one of which was to be his son's after his birth. The goddess Morrígan stole this cow while Nera slept and took it to the bull of Cúalnge, by whom it had a calf. Cúchulainn Is now Introduced pursuing Morrígan and restoring the cow; and on its return the woman sent Nera back to his people—a reduplication of the first sending back. The síd-flok could not destroy Ailill's fort until next Samhain Eve when the síd would be open, and Nera now told his people of the wonderful síd and how its dwellers were coming to attack the fort. Ailill bade him bring anything of his own out of the síd, and from it he fetched the cattle. Including his child's bullcalf which now fought the famous Findbennach, or whitehorned bull. Warned to beware of its sire, the bull of Cualnge, Medb swore by her gods that she would not rest until her bull fought it. Meanwhile Ailill's men destroyed the síd, taking from it the crown, Loegaire's mantle, and Dunlaing's shirt; but Nera was left in the síd and will not come thence till doom —like other mortals, he has become an inhabitant of the gods' land.¹ Here also, as in the story of Etain, mortals wage successful war with hostile divinities. Nevertheless the deities survive, and only the outer works of their síd are destroyed.

The hostility of Morrígan to the hero Cúchulainn is seen in the Táin Bó Regamna, or Cattle-Raid of Regamon. In his sleep he heard a great cry, and setting off with his charioteer Loeg to discover its meaning, they came to a chariot drawn by a one-legged horse, the chariot-pole passing through its body and emerging from its head. On it was a red woman, clad in red, and near it marched a giant in a red tunic, carrying a spear and a huge forked branch, and driving a cow. Cúchulainn maintained that all the cows in Ulster were his, but the woman denied this, and when he asked why she spoke for the man, she announced that his name was Uar-gaeth-sceo Luachair-sceo. Then the giant cried out that her name was Faebor beg-beoil cuimdiuir folt scenbgairit sceo uath. Irritated at this gibberish—an instance of the well-known concealment of divine names—the hero leaped Into the chariot, placing his feet on the woman's shoulders and his spear at her head, and demanded her true name, to which she replied that she was a sorceress and that the cow was her reward for a poem. Cúchulainn begged to hear It, and the woman consented, provided that he would retire from the chariot. After the poem was recited, Cúchulainn prepared to leap again into the chariot, when woman, giant, cow, and chariot vanished; but on the branch of a tree was a black bird—the woman changed to this form. Now he recognized her as Badb or the Morrígan, the battlegoddess, and she told him that for his conduct she would pursue him with vengeance. She was carrying the cow from the síd of Cruachan, that it might be covered by the bull of Cúalnge and when their calf was a year old, Cúchulainn would die. She would attack him when facing his opponent at the ford during the foray of Cúalnge, and as an eej she would twine round his feet. "I will crush thee against the stones of the ford, and thou wilt never obtain healing from me," answered Cúchulainn. "As a she-wolf I will bite thy right hand and devour thee," she replied. "I shall strike thee with my lance and put out an eye, and never wilt thou obtain healing from me," he returned. "As a white cow with red ears I will enter the water, followed by a hundred cows. We shall dash upon thee. Thou wilt fall, and thy head will be taken." "I shall throw a sling-stone at thee, and thy heel shall be broken, and no help wilt thou get from me," cried Cúchulainn; and with that Morrígan disappeared into the síd of Cruachan.²

In a variant of this tale (where the cow-driving incident is perhaps the one which is mentioned in the Echtra Nerai) a different reason for this hostility Is given. Morrígan appeared as a beautiful woman offering Cúchulainn her love, her treasures, and her herds, but he replied that the opportunity was not fitting, since he was engaged in a desperate contest, and contemptuously refused her help. She uttered threats as in the previous version; and when he was fighting at the ford, he was overturned by an eel which he crushed in his hand, and again as a wolf and a heifer Morrígan was defeated. Now no one wounded by Cúchulainn could be healed save by himself, and Morrígan therefore appeared as a lame and blind old woman milking a cow with three teats. Cúchulainn asked for milk, which she gave him from each teat, and at every draught he pronounced the blessing of "gods and not-gods"³ upon her. At each benediction one of her wounds was healed, and now she revealed herself, but was told that, had he known, she would never have had healing from him.⁴ Perhaps because of this healing, or because of a subsequent reconcilement, before Cúchulainn went to the last fatal fight, the goddess broke his chariot, "for she liked not his going to the battle, knowing that he would not come again to Emain Macha."⁵ The story also shows how divinities have the gift of shape-shifting, though it does not always avail them against the prowess of a hero.

The idea that gods punish neglect of their worship or commands, or avenge other sinful actions, is found in most religions, and some stories seem to be derived from it, as when Welsh legend knows of Nynnyaw and Peibaw transformed to oxen for their sins by God—a probable substitution for a pagan divinity.⁶ Instances of the destruction of corn and milk by divinities have been cited, and these perhaps signify punishment for neglecting the gods, seeing that, in the case of the Milesians with Dagda, this was followed by a compact made with him—the equivalent of the fresh covenant made with God by His careless worshippers in the Old Testament. Possibly stories like that of Allién mac Midhna of the Tuatha Dé Danann, coming out of the síd every year to burn Tara,⁷ point to the same conception. The gods even punished members of their own group for wrongdoing, as in the case of Aoife, who was transformed by Bodb; and Bécuma was banished from the gods' land because of her sin with Manannan's son. She came to earth in a self-moving boat and by spells bound Conn, high king of Ireland, to do her will and to banish his son Art; but while she remained in dalliance with Conn for a year, there was neither corn nor milk in Ireland—a direct divine punishment, for it was held that an evil king's reign was marked by famine and destruction. The Druids told Conn that nothing would avail save the sacrifice of "the son of a sinless couple," i. e. the son of the queen of a divine land, whom Conn brought thence. To rescue the boy his mother came with a marvellous cow, which was accepted as a sacrifice, while the queen told Conn that he must renounce Bécuma, else Ireland would lose a third of its corn and milk. Later, when the síd-folk stole the chess-men with which Bécuma was playing with Art, she put spells on him not to eat until he had brought Delbchaem from a mysterious island, intending thus to cause his death. He sailed till he reached an Elysian island, whose fair women taught him how to escape the dangers before him and to find Delbchaem; but when he brought her to Tara, Becuma In disgust left Conn for ever.⁸ Punishment of a divine being is also seen in the story of Manannan's slaying Fer Fedail because of his misdeed, which resulted In the drowning of Tuag.⁹ Conchean slew Dagda's son Aed for seducing his wife, and though Dagda did not kill him, he made him carry the corpse until he found a stone as long as Aed to put upon his grave.¹⁰

PLATE VIII

Squatting God

The deity has torques on his neck and lap, and is encircled by two serpents with rams' heads. Traces of horns appear on his head. He may possibly be a form of Cernunnos (see Plate XVI), and would thus be a divinity of the underworld. From an altar found at Autun, Saone-et-Loire. For a representation on a Gaulish coin see Plate III, 3; cf. also Plates IX, XXV.

Trespass on a sacred place is implied in the story of Eochaid, who eloped with his step-mother. Oengus, in disguise, told him not to camp on his meadow; and when he persisted, the god sent plagues upon him, killing his cattle and horses, and threatening to slay his household if he would not go. Oengus then gave him a horse on which to depart with his goods, and the lake which was formed afterward from the bursting of an uncovered well produced by the micturation of this horse drowned Eochaid and all his household, save his daughter Liban. This, as well as the similar story told of Eochaid's brother Rib, who trespassed on the ground of Oengus and Midir, has affinity with tales of the bursting of a sacred well upon the impious trespasser, as in the legend of Boann.¹¹

In another story Oilill pastured his cattle on the exterior of a síd, the grass of which the síd-folk now destroyed. While Oilill watched there with Ferchess, he saw fairy cattle leaving the síd, followed by Eogabal, son of its King, and his daughter Aine. Eogabal was slain by Ferchess, and Aine was outraged by Oilill, but she struck his right ear, leaving no flesh on it, whence his epithet "Bare Ear." Aine promised vengeance, which was wrought thus. Eogan, Oilill's son, and Lugaid mac Con heard music proceeding from a yew formed by magic as part of the means employed for vengeance, and in it was found a little harper, who was brought by them to Oilill. Before he went away, however, he made contention between Eogan and Lugaid; the latter was slain, and this caused the battle of Mag Mucrime, where Oilill's seven sons perished.¹² In this story gods are within men's power, though the latter cannot finally escape punishment. So also is it in the tale of Macha, "sun of women-folk," daughter of Midir, or of Sainred, son of Ler, who came to the house of the rich peasant, Cronnchu, and served him, bringing him prosperity and living with him as his wife. Cronnchu went to a feast of the Ulstermen, but was bidden by Macha not to say an imprudent word or mention her name. At the horse-racing, however, he boasted that his wife was swifter than the horses, whereupon King Conchobar insisted that she should be sent for, and though she was with child, forced her to run against his chariot. She said that all who saw it would suffer for the deed, and when at the goal she gave birth to twins, she condemned every Ulsterman to undergo for five days and four nights each year all the pangs which she had felt, and to have no strength during that time. Cúchulainn alone escaped the curse.¹³

The automatic working out of punishment is seen in the tragic results of the breaking of personal tabus, e. g. in the case of Cúchulainn and Fionn.¹⁴ This is sometimes regarded as the inevitable operation of fate or as divine vengeance for wrong done to gods, not necessarily by the victim, and it receives its most mysterious illustration in the doom of Conaire Mór in the long tale of Da Derga's Hostel. In some versions Conaire's origin is connected with incest—itself caused by a vengeful god—while his death at the height of his prosperity is regarded as the consequence of injury done by his ancestor to the god Midir, whose wife Etain was retaken from him by Conaire's forefather Eochaid.¹⁵ Through a trick of Midir's, Eochaid had a child, Mess Buachalla, by his daughter Ess, and Mess Buachalla was mother of Conaire. Who, then, was Conaire's father? One account regards him as King Eterscel, while Mess Buachalla is here daughter of Ess and one of the síde, or of Ess and Eterscel—the latter version thus introducing the incest incident in another form. Another account tells how Eochaid married Etain, daughter of Etar, King of the cavalcade from the síd; and their daughter Etain became Cormac's wife, but was put away because she bore him no son. Cormac ordered his infant daughter to be slain, but she smiled so sweetly on his thralls that they took her to King Eterscel's cowherds, who guarded her in a hut with a roof-light, whence her name Mess Buachalla, or "the Cowherds' Foster-Child." Through the roof-light Eterscel's people saw her when she was grown up, and told the king of her beauty. Now it was prophesied that he would have a son by a woman of unknown race, but before he sent for her, a bird flew through the roof-light, and doffing Its plumage, became a man, to whom Mess Buachalla yielded herself. Before leaving her he told how she would have a son, Conaire, by him, who must never hunt birds; and Conaire was regarded as Eterscel's child when born. At Eterscel's death the new king was to be selected by divination at the "bull-feast." A bull was killed, probably as a sacrifice, and after the diviner had eaten Its flesh, he dreamed of the future king—In this case a naked man with a sling coming to Tara. Meanwhile Conaire hunted a flock of wonderful birds, which suddenly became armed men, one of them telling him that he was Nemglan, King of the birds, his father, and that he was breaking his geasa (tabus) in hunting his kinsmen. Conaire replied that he knew nothing of this geis, whereupon Nemglan bade him go naked toward Tara, where watchers would meet him. In this incident there is doubtless some dim memory of clan totem-myths.

A different account of his becoming king makes Mess Buachalla tell him for the first time who his father Is, viz. Eterscel, her own father, when he had just died. His successor must fulfil certain apparently impossible conditions, but Conaire met the terms and became king. Mysterious hosts brought to him by his mother stayed with him for a time and then departed, none knew whither; they were síde from Bri Léith, Midir's síd.¹⁶ This appears to mean that Conaire was divinely assisted to become king, so that the approaching disaster might be all the greater.

To return to the other account, Nemglan told Conaire the geasa which he must observe. He became king, and none ever had a more prosperous reign; plenty abounded, and murder and rapine were banished. At last, however, the vengeance of the god began to work. Through a fate which he could not resist Conaire one day settled a quarrel between two of his serfs, thus breaking one of the geasa, and on his return he saw the whole country in flame and smoke—a delusion of the síde. To avoid the fire he and his men went sunwise round Tara and counter-clockwise round Bregia. These were tabued directions; and as he went, he pursued the evil beasts of Cerna, disobeying another tabu. Then, belated, he resolved to stay in the hostel of Derga ("Red"), and three red-haired horsemen clad in red and on red steeds ¹⁷ were seen preceding him to the house of Red—another of his geasa. He sent messengers after them begging them to fall behind, but they only went the faster and announced: "We ride the steeds of Donn Tetscorach (Midir's son) from the síd. Though we are alive, we are dead. Great are the signs. Destruction of life. Sating of ravens. Feeding of crows. Strife of slaughter. Wetting of sword-edge. Shields with broken bosses in hours after sundown. Lo, my son!" With this boding prophecy they vanished, and the gods themselves thus caused the violation of Conaire's geasa. After arriving at the hostel he broke yet another, for there came a hideous woman who, standing on one foot, holding up one hand, and casting an evil eye on Conaire and his men, foretold their doom. Then she begged to be taken in, appealing to Conaire's generosity, and he said, "Let her in, though it is a geis of mine."

At this time Ingcel, whose single eye had three pupils, invaded Ireland with Conaire's foster-brothers, and they were now on their way to attack the hostel. Ingcel is described as going toward it to spy upon the inmates, returning with ever fresh reports of the wonders and the people seen by him, some of them gigantic and monstrous, with magic weapons. When the hostel was surrounded, a terrible battle began. Conaire was parched with thirst, but no water was to be obtained, though his ally MacCecht sought It in all Ireland. Lakes and rivers had been dried up, apparently by the gods, as at the first battle of Mag-Tured, and one loch alone was reached before its water disappeared. MacCecht returned with a draught, but all too late. Conaire's host was scattered and dead, and he himself was being decapitated by two of his foes, whom MacCecht slew, and then poured the water into Conaire's mouth. The head thanked him for his act, and thus perished Conaire, through no fault of his own, victim of fate and of a god's vengeance.¹⁸ The story is as tragic as a Greek drama, if its art is less consummate.

References

Chapter VI

1. Text and translation by K. Meyer, in RCel x. 212 ff. (1889); cf. W. Stokes, ib. xv. 465 (1894).
2. E. Windisch, in IT II. ii. 241 f.
3. For the meaning of this phrase see MacCulloch [b], p. 67, note I.
4. LU 74 a, 77a; Windisch, Táin, pp. 306, 312 f.
5. LL 119 a; text and translation by W. Stokes, in RCel iii. 175 (1877).
6. Loth, Mabinogion, i. 302.
7. See infra, p. 165.
8. Text and translation by R. I. Best, in Ériu, iii. 149 f. (1907).
9. See infra, p. 89.
10. W. Stokes, in RCel xvi. 42 (1895).
11. J. O'B. Crowe, in JRHAAI IV. i. 94 ff. (1871); W. Stokes, in RCel XV. 482 (1894), xvi. 152 (1895); see also infra, p. 121.
12. W. Stokes, in RCel xiii. 426 f. (1892).
13. D'Arbois, Cours, v. 370; W. Stokes, in RCel xvi. 45 (1895).
14. See infra, pp. 156, 179.
15. See infra, pp. 80–82.
16. Book of Ballymote, 139b.
17. See supra, p. 70.
18. Text and translation by W. Stokes, in RCel xxii. 9 ff. (1901); for the relation of the different accounts of Conaire to each other, see M. Nettlau, ib. xii. 229 ff. (1891).