A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Tales of the Enchanted Islands of the Atlantic

T >> Thomas Wentworth Higginson >> Tales of the Enchanted Islands of the Atlantic






XI

MAELDUIN'S VOYAGE


An Irish knight named Maelduin set forth early in the eighth century to
seek round the seas for his father's murderers. By the advice of a wizard,
he was to take with him seventeen companions, neither less nor more; but
at the last moment his three foster brothers, whom he had not included,
begged to go with him. He refused, and they cast themselves into the sea
to swim after his vessel. Maelduin had pity on them and took them in, but
his disregard of the wizard's advice brought punishment; and it was only
after long wanderings, after visiting multitudes of unknown and often
enchanted islands, and after the death or loss of the three foster
brothers, that Maelduin was able to return to his native land.

One island which they visited was divided into four parts by four fences,
one of gold, one of silver, one of brass, one of crystal. In the first
division there dwelt kings, in the second queens, in the third warriors,
and in the fourth maidens. The voyagers landed in the maidens' realm; one
of these came out in a boat and gave them food, such that every one found
in it the taste he liked best; then followed an enchanted drink, which
made them sleep for three days and three nights. When they awakened they
were in their boat on the sea, and nothing was to be seen either of island
or maidens.

The next island had in it a fortress with a brazen door and a bridge of
glass, on which every one who ascended it slipped and fell. A woman came
from the fortress, pail in hand, drew water from the sea and returned, not
answering them when they spoke. When they reached at last the brazen door
and struck upon it, it made a sweet and soothing sound, and they went to
sleep, for three days and nights, as before. On the fourth day a maiden
came who was most beautiful; she wore garments of white silk, a white
mantle with a brooch of silver with studs of gold, and a gold band round
her hair. She greeted each man by his name, and said, "It is long that we
have expected you." She took them into the castle and gave them every kind
of food they had ever desired. Maelduin was filled with love for her and
asked her for her love; but she told him that love was sin and she had no
knowledge of sin; so she left him. On the morrow they found their boat,
stranded on a crag, while lady and fortress and island had all vanished.

Another island on which they landed was large and bare, with another
fortress and a palace. There they met a lady who was kinder. She wore an
embroidered purple mantle, gold embroidered gloves, and ornamented
sandals, and was just riding up to the palace door. Seventeen maidens
waited there for her. She offered to keep the strangers as guests, and
that each of them should have a wife, she herself wedding Maelduin. She
was, it seems, the widow of the king of the island, and these were her
seventeen daughters. She ruled the island and went every day to judge the
people and direct their lives. If the strangers would stay, she said that
they should never more know sorrow, or hardships, or old age; she herself,
in spite of her large family, being young and beautiful as ever. They
stayed three months, and it seemed to all but Maelduin that the three
months were three years. When the queen was absent, one day, the men took
the boat and compelled Maelduin to leave the island with them; but the
queen rode after them and flung a rope, which Maelduin caught and which
clung to his hand. She drew them back to the shore; this happened thrice,
and the men accused Maelduin of catching the rope on purpose; he bade
another man catch it, and his companions cut off his hand, and they
escaped at last.

On one island the seafarers found three magic apples, and each apple gave
sufficient food for forty nights; again, on another island, they found the
same apples. In another place still, a great bird like a cloud arrived,
with a tree larger than an oak in its claws. After a while two eagles came
and cleaned the feathers of the larger bird. They also stripped off the
red berries from the tree and threw them into the ocean until its foam
grew red. The great bird then flew into the ocean and cleaned itself. This
happened daily for three days, when the great bird flew away with stronger
wings, its youth being thus renewed.

They came to another island where many people stood by the shore talking
and joking. They were all looking at Maelduin and his comrades, and kept
gaping and laughing, but would not exchange a word with them. Then
Maelduin sent one of his foster brothers on the island; but he ranged
himself with the others and did as they did. Maelduin and his men rowed
round and round the island, and whenever they passed the point where this
comrade was, they addressed him, but he never answered, and only gaped and
laughed. They waited for him a long time and left him. This island they
found to be called The Island of Joy.

On another island they found sheep grazing, of enormous size; on another,
birds, whose eggs when eaten caused feathers to sprout all over the bodies
of those who eat them. On another they found crimson flowers, whose mere
perfume sufficed for food, and they encountered women whose only food was
apples. Through the window flew three birds: a blue one with a crimson
head; a crimson one with a green head; a green one with a golden head.
These sang heavenly music, and were sent to accompany the wanderers on
their departing; the queen of the island gave them an emerald cup, such
that water poured into it became wine. She asked if they knew how long
they had been there, and when they said "a day," she told them that it was
a year, during which they had had no food. As they sailed away, the birds
sang to them until both birds and island disappeared in the mist.

They saw another island standing on a single pedestal, as if on one foot,
projecting from the water. Rowing round it to seek a way into it they
found no passage, but they saw in the base of the pedestal, under water, a
closed door with a lock--this being the only way in which the island could
be entered. Around another island there was a fiery rampart, which
constantly moved in a circle. In the side of that rampart was an open
door, and as it came opposite them in its turning course, they beheld
through it the island and all therein; and its occupants, even human
beings, were many and beautiful, wearing rich garments, and feasting with
gold vessels in their hands. The voyagers lingered long to gaze upon this
marvel.

On another island they found many human beings, black in color and
raiment, and always bewailing. Lots were cast, and another of Maelduin's
foster brothers was sent on shore. He at once joined the weeping crowd,
and did as they did. Two others were sent to bring him back, and both
shared his fate, falling under some strange spell. Then Maelduin sent four
others, and bade them look neither at the land nor at the sky; to wrap
their mouths and noses with their garments, and not breathe the island
air; and not to take off their eyes from their comrades. In this way the
two who followed the foster brother on shore were rescued, but he remained
behind.

Of another island they could see nothing but a fort, protected by a great
white rampart, on which nothing living was to be seen but a small cat,
leaping from one to another of four stone pillars. They found brooches and
ornaments of gold and silver, they found white quilts and embroidered
garments hanging up, flitches of bacon were suspended, a whole ox was
roasting, and vessels stood filled with intoxicating drinks. Maelduin
asked the cat if all this was for them; but the cat merely looked at him
and went on playing. The seafarers dined and drank, then went to sleep. As
they were about to depart, Maelduin's third foster brother proposed to
carry off a tempting necklace, and in spite of his leader's warnings
grasped it. Instantly the cat leaped through him like a fiery arrow,
burned him so that he became ashes, and went back to its pillar. Thus all
three of the foster brothers who had disregarded the wizard's warning, and
forced themselves upon the party, were either killed or left behind upon
the enchanted islands.

Around another island there was a demon horse-race going on; the riders
were just riding in over the sea, and then the race began; the voyagers
could only dimly perceive the forms of the horses, but could hear the
cries of their riders, the strokes of the whips, and the words of the
spectators, "See the gray horse!" "Watch the chestnut horse!" and the
voyagers were so alarmed that they rowed away. The next island was covered
with trees laden with golden apples, but these were being rapidly eaten by
small, scarlet animals which they found, on coming nearer, to be all made
of fire and thus brightened in hue. Then the animals vanished, and
Maelduin with his men landed, and though the ground was still hot from the
fiery creatures, they brought away a boat load of the apples. Another
island was divided into two parts by a brass wall across the middle. There
were two flocks of sheep, and those on one side of the wall were white,
while the others were black. A large man was dividing and arranging the
sheep, and threw them easily over the wall. When he threw a white sheep
among the black ones it became black, and when he threw a black sheep
among the white ones, it became white instantly. The voyagers thought of
landing, but when Maelduin saw this, he said, "Let us throw something on
shore to see if it will change color. If it does, we will avoid the
island." So they took a black branch and threw it toward the white sheep.
When it fell, it grew white; and the same with a white branch on the black
side. "It is lucky for us," said Maelduin, "that we did not land on this
island."

They came next to an island where there was but one man visible, very
aged, and with long, white hair. Above him were trees, covered with great
numbers of birds. The old man told them that he like them had come in a
curragh, or coracle, and had placed many green sods beneath his feet, to
steady the boat. Reaching this spot, the green sods had joined together
and formed an island which at first gave him hardly room to stand; but
every year one foot was added to its size, and one tree grew up. He had
lived there for centuries, and those birds were the souls of his children
and descendants, each of whom was sent there after death, and they were
all fed from heaven each day. On the next island there was a great roaring
as of bellows and a sound of smiths' hammers, as if striking all together
on an anvil, every sound seeming to come from the strokes of a dozen men.
"Are they near?" asked one big voice. "Silence!" said another; and they
were evidently watching for the boat. When it rowed away, one of the
smiths flung after them a vast mass of red-hot iron, which he had grasped
with the tongs from the furnace. It fell just short, but made the whole
sea to hiss and boil around them as they rowed away.

Another island had a wall of water round it, and Maelduin and his men saw
multitudes of people driving away herds of cattle and sheep, and shouting,
"There they are, they have come again;" and a woman pelted them from below
with great nuts, which the crew gathered for eating. Then as they rowed
away they heard one man say, "Where are they now?" and another cried,
"They are going away." Still again they visited an island where a great
stream of water shot up into the air and made an arch like a rainbow that
spanned the land.

They walked below it without getting wet, and hooked down from it many
large salmon; besides that, many fell out above their heads, so that they
had more than they could carry away with them. These are by no means all
of the strange adventures of Maelduin and his men.

The last island to which they came was called Raven's Stream, and there
one of the men, who had been very homesick, leaped out upon shore. As soon
as he touched the land he became a heap of ashes, as if his body had lain
in the earth a thousand years. This showed them for the first time during
how vast a period they had been absent, and what a space they must have
traversed. Instead of thirty enchanted islands they had visited thrice
fifty, many of them twice or thrice as large as Ireland, whence the
voyagers first came. In the wonderful experiences of their long lives they
had apparently lost sight of the search which they had undertaken, for the
murderers of Maelduin's father, since of them we hear no more. The island
enchantment seems to have banished all other thoughts.



XII

THE VOYAGE OF ST. BRANDAN


The young student Brandan was awakened in the morning by the crowing of
the cock in the great Irish abbey where he dwelt; he rose, washed his face
and hands and dressed himself, then passed into the chapel, where he
prayed and sang until the dawn of the day. "With song comes courage" was
the motto of the abbey. It was one of those institutions like great
colonies,--church, library, farm, workshop, college, all in one,--of which
Ireland in the sixth century was full, and which existed also elsewhere.
Their extent is best seen by the modern traveller in the remains of the
vast buildings at Tintern in England, scattered over a wide extent of
country, where you keep coming upon walls and fragments of buildings which
once formed a part of a single great institution, in which all the life of
the community was organized, as was the case in the Spanish missions of
California. At the abbey of Bangor in Wales, for instance, there were two
thousand four hundred men,--all under the direction of a comparatively
small body of monks, who were trained to an amount of organizing skill
like that now needed for a great railway system. Some of these men were
occupied, in various mechanic arts, some in mining, but most of them in
agriculture, which they carried on with their own hands, without the aid
of animals, and in total silence.

Having thus labored in the fields until noonday, Brandan then returned
that he might work in the library, transcribing ancient manuscripts or
illustrating books of prayer. Having to observe silence, he wrote the name
of the book to give to the librarian, and if it were a Christian work, he
stretched out his hand, making motions with his fingers as if turning over
the leaves; but if it were by a pagan author, the monk who asked for it
was required to scratch his ear as a dog does, to show his contempt,
because, the regulations said, an unbeliever might well be compared to
that animal[1]. Taking the book, he copied it in the Scriptorium or
library, or took it to his cell, where he wrote all winter without a fire.
It is to such monks that we owe all our knowledge of the earliest history
of England and Ireland; though doubtless the hand that wrote the histories
of Gildas and Bede grew as tired as that of Brandan, or as that of the
monk who wrote in the corner of a beautiful manuscript: "He who does not
know how to write imagines it to be no labor; but though only three
fingers hold the pen, the whole body grows weary." In the same way Brandan
may have learned music and have had an organ in his monastery, or have had
a school of art, painting beautiful miniatures for the holy missals. This
was his early life in the convent.

[Footnote 1: _Adde ut aurem tangas digito sicut canis cum pede
pruriens solet, quia nec immerito infideles tali animati comparantur_.
--MARTÈNE, _De Antiq. Monach. ritibus_, p. 289, qu. by Montalembert,
Monks of the West (tr.) VI. 190.]

Once a day they were called to food; this consisting for them of bread
and vegetables with no seasoning but salt, although better fare was
furnished for the sick and the aged, for travellers and the poor. These
last numbered, at Easter time, some three or four hundred, who constantly
came and went, and upon whom the monks and young disciples waited. After
the meal the monks spent three hours in the chapel, on their knees, still
silent; then they confessed in turn to the abbot and then sought their
hard-earned rest. They held all things in common; no one even received a
gift for himself. War never reached them; it was the rarest thing for an
armed party to molest their composure; their domains were regarded as a
haven for the stormy world. Because there were so many such places in
Ireland, it was known as The Isle of Saints.

Brandan was sent after a time to other abbeys, where he could pursue
especial studies, for they had six branches of learning,--grammar,
rhetoric, dialectics, geometry, astronomy, and music. Thus he passed three
years, and was then advised to go to an especial teacher in the mountains,
who had particular modes of teaching certain branches. But this priest--he
was an Italian--was suffering from poverty, and could receive his guest
but for a few weeks. One day as Brandan sat studying, he saw, the legend
says, a white mouse come from a crack in the wall, a visitor which climbed
upon his table and left there a grain of wheat. Then the mouse paused,
looked at the student, then ran about the table, went away and reappeared
with another grain, and another, up to five. Brandan, who had at the very
instant learned his lesson, rose from his seat, followed the mouse, and
looking through a hole in the wall, saw a great pile of wheat, stored in a
concealed apartment. On his showing this to the head of the convent, it
was pronounced a miracle; the food was distributed to the poor, and "the
people blessed his charity while the Lord blessed his studies."

In the course of years, Brandan became himself the head of one of the
great abbeys, that of Clonfert, of the order of St. Benedict, where he had
under him nearly three thousand monks. In this abbey, having one day given
hospitality to a monk named Berinthus, who had just returned from an ocean
voyage, Brandan learned from him the existence, far off in the ocean, of
an island called The Delicious Isle, to which a priest named Mernoc had
retired, with many companions of his order. Berinthus found Mernoc and the
other monks living apart from one another for purposes of prayer, but when
they came together, Mernoc said, they were like bees from different
beehives. They met for their food and for church; their food included only
apples, nuts, and various herbs. One day Mernoc said to Berinthus, "I will
conduct you to the Promised Isle of the Saints." So they went on board a
little ship and sailed westward through a thick fog until a great light
shone and they found themselves near an island which was large and
fruitful and bore many apples. There were no herbs without blossoms, he
said, nor trees without fruits, and there were precious stones, and the
island was traversed by a great river. Then they met a man of shining
aspect who told them that they had without knowing it passed a year
already in the island; that they had needed neither food nor sleep. Then
they returned to the Delicious Island, and every one knew where they had
been by the perfume of their garments. This was the story of Berinthus,
and from this time forward nothing could keep Brandan from the purpose of
beholding for himself these blessed islands.

Before carrying out his plans, however, he went, about the year 560, to
visit an abbot named Enda, who lived at Arran, then called Isle of the
Saints, a priest who was supposed to know more than any one concerning the
farther lands of the western sea. He knew, for instance, of the enchanted
island named Hy-Brasail, which could be seen from the coast of Ireland
only once in seven years, and which the priests had vainly tried to
disenchant. Some islands, it was believed, had been already disenchanted
by throwing on them a few sparks of lighted turf; but as Hy-Brasail was
too far for this, there were repeated efforts to disenchant it by shooting
fiery arrows towards it, though this had not yet been successful. Then
Enda could tell of wonderful ways to cross the sea without a boat, how his
sister Fanchea had done it by spreading her own cloak upon the waves, and
how she and three other nuns were borne upon it. She found, however, that
one hem of the cloak sank below the water, because one of her companions
had brought with her, against orders, a brazen vessel from the convent;
but on her throwing it away, the sinking hem rose to the level of the rest
and bore them safely. St. Enda himself had first crossed to Arran on a
large stone which he had ordered his followers to place on the water and
which floated before the wind; and he told of another priest who had
walked on the sea as on a meadow and plucked flowers as he went. Hearing
such tales, how could St. Brandan fear to enter on his voyage?

He caused a boat to be built of a fashion which one may still see in
Welsh and Irish rivers, and known as a curragh or coracle; made of an
osier frame covered with tanned and oiled skins. He took with him
seventeen priests, among whom was St. Malo, then a mere boy, but
afterwards celebrated. They sailed to the southwest, and after being forty
days at sea they reached a rocky island furrowed with streams, where they
received the kindest hospitality, and took in fresh provisions. They
sailed again the next day, and found themselves entangled in contrary
currents and perplexing winds, so that they were long in reaching another
island, green and fertile, watered by rivers which were full of fish, and
covered with vast herds of sheep as large as heifers. Here they renewed
their stock of provisions, and chose a spotless lamb with which to
celebrate Easter Sunday on another island, which they saw at a short
distance.

This island was wholly bare, without sandy shores or wooded slopes, and
they all landed upon it to cook their lamb; but when they had arranged
their cooking-apparatus, and when their fire began to blaze, the island
seemed to move beneath their feet, and they ran in terror to their boat,
from which Brandan had not yet landed. Their supposed island was a whale,
and they rowed hastily away from it toward the island they had left, while
the whale glided away, still showing, at a distance of two miles, the fire
blazing on his back.

The next island they visited was wooded and fertile, where they found a
multitude of birds, which chanted with them the praises of the Lord, so
that they called this the Paradise of Birds.

This was the description given of this island by an old writer named
Wynkyn de Worde, in "The Golden Legend":--

"Soon after, as God would, they saw a fair island, full of flowers,
herbs, and trees, whereof they thanked God of his good grace; and anon
they went on land, and when they had gone long in this, they found a full
fayre well, and thereby stood a fair tree full of boughs, and on every
bough sat a fayre bird, and they sat so thick on the tree that uneath
[scarcely] any leaf of the tree might be seen. The number of them was so
great, and they sang so merrilie, that it was an heavenlie noise to hear.
Whereupon St. Brandan kneeled down on his knees and wept for joy, and made
his praise devoutlie to our Lord God, to know what these birds meant. And
then anon one of the birds flew from the tree to St. Brandan, and he with
the flickering of his wings made a full merrie noise like a fiddle, that
him seemed he never heard so joyful a melodie. And then St. Brandan
commanded the foule to tell him the cause why they sat so thick on the
tree and sang so merrilie. And then the foule said, some time we were
angels in heaven, but when our master, Lucifer, fell down into hell for
his high pride, and we fell with him for our offences, some higher and
some lower, after the quality of the trespasse. And because our trespasse
is so little, therefore our Lord hath sent us here, out of all paine, in
full great joy and mirthe, after his pleasing, here to serve him on this
tree in the best manner we can. The Sundaie is a daie of rest from all
worldly occupation, and therefore that day all we be made as white as any
snow, for to praise our Lorde in the best wise we may. And then all the
birds began to sing evensong so merrilie that it was an heavenlie noise to
hear; and after supper St. Brandan and his fellows went to bed and slept
well. And in the morn they arose by times, and then those foules began
mattyns, prime, and hours, and all such service as Christian men used to
sing; and St. Brandan, with his fellows, abode there seven weeks, until
Trinity Sunday was passed."

Having then embarked, they wandered for months on the ocean, before
reaching another island. That on which they finally landed was inhabited
by monks who had as their patrons St. Patrick and St. Ailbée, and they
spent Christmas there. A year passed in these voyages, and the tradition
is that for six other years they made just the same circuit, always
spending Holy Week at the island where they found the sheep, alighting for
Easter on the back of the same patient whale, visiting the Isle of Birds
at Pentecost, and reaching the island of St. Patrick and St. Ailbée in
time for Christmas.

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