Celtic Lore & Legend (6 page)

“The Iland (Island), not yet
Britain
but
Albion
was in a manner, desert and inhospitable, kept only by a remnant of
Giants
, whose excessive Force and Tyrannie had consumed the rest. Them Brutus destroies, and to his people divides the land, which, with some reference to his own name, he thenceforth calls
Britain
. To
Corineus, Cornwall
, as we now call it, fell by lot; the rather by him lik’t for that the hugest Giants in the Rocks and Caves were said to lurk there, which kind of Monsters to deal with, was his old exercise.

And heer, with leave bespok’n to recite a grand fable, though dignify’d by our best Poets: While Brutus, on a certain Festival day, solemnly kept on that shoar (shore) where he first landed (
Totness
) was with the People in great jollity and mirth, a crew of these savages breaking in upon them, began on the sudden, another sort of Game than at such a meeting was expected. But at last, by many hands overcome,
Godmegog
(
Gigmagog
), the hugest, in hight twelve cubits, is reserved alive; and with him
Corineus
who desired nothing more, might try his strength, whom in a Wrestle, the Giant,
catching aloft, with a terrible Hugg, broke three of his Rib. Nevertheless. Corineus, enraged, heaving him up by main force, and on his shoulders bearing him to the next high rock, threw him headlong, all shattered into the sea, and left his name on the cliff, called ever since
Longodmagog
, which is to say, the Giant’s Leap.”

The same story has been somewhat differently told, although there is but little variation in the main incidents. When Brutus and Corineus, with their Trojan hosts, landed at Plymouth, three chiefs wisely sent parties into the interior to explore the country and to learn something of the people. At the end of the first day, the soldiers who had been sent out as exploring parties, returned in great terror, pursued by several terrific giants. Brutus and Corineus were not, however, to be terrified by the immense size of their enemies, nor by the horrid noises which they made, hoping to strike terror into the armed hosts. These chieftain rallied their hosts, and marched to meet the giants, hurling their spears and flinging their darts against their huge bodies. The assault was so unexpected that the giants gave way; and eventually fled into the hills of Dartmoor. Gigmagog (Gogmagog), the captain of the giants, who was sadly wounded in the leg, and unable to proceed, hid himself in a bog, but there by the light of the moon, he was found by the Trojan soldiers, bound with strong cords, and carried back to the Hoe of Plymouth where the camp was. His victors treated Gigmagog nobly, and his wounds were speedily healed. Brutus desired to make terms with the giants; and it was at length proposed by Gigmagog to try a fall with the strongest in the host, and that whoever came off the conqueror should be proclaimed the king of Cornwall, and hold possession of all the western lands. Corineus at once accepted the challenge of the monster. Notwithstanding, the giant:

“Though bent with woes;

Full eighteen feet in height, he rose;

His hair exposed to sun and wind,

Like wither’d heath, his head entwined”

and that Corineus was but little above the ordinary size of man, the Trojan chief felt sure of a victory. The day for the wrestling was fixed. The huge Gigmagog was allowed to send for the giants, and they assembled on one side of a cleared space on Plymouth Hoe, while the Trojan soldiers occupied the other. All arms were thrown aside; and fronting each other, naked to the waist, stood the most lordly of giants and the most noble of men. The conflict was long, and it appeared for some time doubtful. Brute strength was exerted on one side, and trained skill on the other. At length, Corineus succeeded in grabbing Gigmagog by the girdle, and by regularly repeated impulses, he made the monster undulate, like a tree shaken by a winter storm, until at length, gathering all his strength, the giant was forced to his back on the ground, the earth shaking with his weight, and the air echoing with the thunder of his mighty groan, as the breath was forced from his body by the terrible momentum of his fall. There lay the giant, and there were all the other giants, appalled at the power which they could not understand, but which convinced them that there was something superior to animal strength. Corineus breathed for a minute, then he rushed upon his prostrate foe, and seizing him by the legs, dragged him to the edge of the cliff and precipitated him into the sea. The giant fell on the rocks below, and his body was broken into fragments by the fall; while the

“
Fretted flood,

Rolled frothy waves of purple blood
”

“Gigmagog’s (Gogmagog’s) Leap” has been preserved near the spot which now presents a fortress to the foes of Britain; and there are those “who say that, at the last digging on the Haw (Hoe), for the foundation of the citadel of Plymouth, the great jaws and teeth therein found were those of Gigmagog.”

From roughly the sixth to the 11th centuries, the Celtic peoples of the British Isles were frequently harassed and attacked by warriors from the North. Saxons, Angles, and Jutes formed the first wave, attacking the southern part of England almost as soon as the Roman legions had left, but it was the second wave, whom the Celts called either Fine Gall (white foreigners) and Dubh Gall (black foreigners)—a description that probably referred to their hair coloring, who were most feared. These were the Vikings: fierce raiders and settlers who began their attacks on the Celtic coastline around the eighth century and perhaps even earlier They were sea-borne raiders (the name “Viking” comes from the West Norwegian “vikingr,” which later meant “sea warrior”), sweeping down from the countries that now form Scandinavia (Norway, Denmark, Sweden) and from some of the Baltic and Russian countries. Strong, ferocious, and merciless, they sacked Celtic settlements, carrying away booty and slaves and sometimes even seizing lands for themselves. As their attacks increased throughout the ninth and 10th centuries,
these hardened warriors often entered the mythology of the Celtic people as fearsome giants and monsters who were thwarted and defeated by the skill and guile of the early Celtic kings.

Two parts of the Celtic world suffered greatly from the Viking raids: Ireland and the west coast of Scotland. In Ireland, the Vikings had established great bases, such as the area that constitutes the present-day city of Dublin, from which they raided deep into surrounding kingdoms. Scotland too, experienced their hostile intentions. Viking kingdoms were established in Argyll (the place of the Eastern Gael) and in the Western Isles, and it is here that some of the ancient mythological tales about them are to be found. Tales of battles against the Norsemen by Scottish rulers sometimes find parallels in later Irish mythology and serve as a connection between the two bodies of legend—both Irish and Scottish.

The following extract is taken from a series of tales orally collected in the early 19th century by the Scottish folklorist J.F. Campbell (1821–1885). Many of these stories come from the Western Highlands and the Western Isles where Norse influence was particularly strong. The following story was recorded from Angus McDonald of Stoneybrodge on the island of South Uist around 1860 and reinforces the connection between Ireland and Scotland. It is also characterized by the almost surreal heroic deeds, which are sometimes to be found in Irish mythology.

There was a king on a time in Eirinn, to whom the cess (misfortune and destruction) which the Lochlanners (Norsemen) had laid on Alba (Scotland) and Eireann was grievous. They were coming on his own realm, in harvest and summer,
to feed themselves on his goods, and they were brave, strong men, eating and spoiling as much as the Scots and Irish (Albannaich and Eirionnaich; Alban-ians, Eirin-ians) were making ready for another year.

He sent word for a counsellor that he had, and he told him all that was in his thought, that he wanted to find a way to keep the Scandinavians (Lochlainnaich, Lochlian-ians) back. The counsellor said to him that this would not grow with him (be achieved) in a moment, but if he would take his counsel, that it would grow with him in time.

“Marry”, she told him “the hundred biggest men and woman in Eirinn to each other; marry that race to each other; marry that second race to each other again; and let the third kindred (ginealach) go to face the Lochlaners”.

This was done and when the third kindred came to man’s estate, they came over to Albainn and Cumhal was at their head.

It grew with them to rout the Lochlaners, and drive them back. Cumhal made a king of himself in Alba that time with these men, and he would not let Lochlaner or Irelander to Alba but himself. This was a grief to the King of Lochlann [
Editor’s Note
: Probably Western Norway. Much of the settlement on the Western coast of Scotland was initially believed to have come from Westfold.] and he made up with the King of Alba that there should be a friendship between them, her and yonder at that time. They settled together, the three kings—the King of Lochlann and the King of Alba, and the King of Eirinn—that they would have a great “
ball
” of dancing and there should be friendship and truce amongst them.

There was a “schame” (plot) between the King of Eirinn and the King of Lochlann to put the King of Scotland (Alba) to death. Cumhal was so mighty that there was no contrivance for putting him to death, unless he was slain with his own sword when he was spoilt with drink, and love making and asleep.

He had his choice of a sweetheart amongst any of the women in the company, and it was the daughter of the King of Lochlann whom he chose.

When they went to rest, there was a man in the company, whose name was Black Arcan, whom they set apart to do the murder when they should be asleep. When they slept, Black Arcan got the sword of Cumhal, and he slew him with it. The murder was done and everything was right. Alba was under the Lochalaners and the Irelanders and the Black Arcan had the sword of Cumhal.

The King of Lochlann left his sister with the King of Eirinn, with an order that if she should have a babe son to slay him but if it were a baby daughter, to keep her alive. A prophet had told that Fionn MacChumhail would come, and the sign for this was a river in Eirinn that no trout could be killed in till Fionn should come. That which came of the fruit of the wedding that was there, was that the daughter of the King of Lochlann bore a son and a daughter to Cumhal. Fionn had no sister but this one and she was the mother of Diarmaid. On the night they were borne, his muime (nurse) fled with the son, and she went to a desert place with him, and she was keeping him there till she raised him as a stalwart and goodly child. [
Editor’s Note
: This is a Scottish version of the birth of the celebrated Irish hero Fionn MacCumhail (Finn McCool) one of the foremost Knights of the Fianna in Irish mythology and father of the great Irish Bard and poet Oisin, who was also well known as a hero in the Western Isles.]

She thought it was sorry for her that he should be nameless with her. The thing she did was to go with him to the town, to try if she could find means to give him a name. She saw the school-boys of the town swimming in a fresh water loch.

“Go out together with these”, she said to him, “and if thou gettest hold of one, put him under and drown him; and if thou gettest hold of two, put them under and drown them”

He went out on the loch and he began drowning the children, and it happened that one of the bishops of the place was looking on.

“Who”, said he, “is that bluff fair son with the eye of a king in his head, who is drowning those school boys?”

“May he steal his name!” said his muime. “Fionn son of Cumhall, son of Finn, son of every eloquence, son of Art, son of Eirinn’s high king, and it is my part to take myself away”.

Then he came on shore and she snatched him with her.

When the following (those who were pursuing them) were about to catch them, he leapt off his muime’s back, and seized her by the two ankles, and he put her about his neck. He went in through a wood with her and when he came out he had but the two shanks. He met with a loch after he came out of the wood, and he threw the two legs out on the loch, and it is Loch nan Lurgan, the lake of the shanks, that the loch was called after this. Two great monsters grew from the shanks of Fionn’s muime. That is the kindred that he had with the two monsters of Loch nan Lurgan.

Then he went, and without meat or drink, to the great town. He met Black Arcan, fishing on the river, and a hound in company with him—Bran MacBruidehig (black, or raven, son of little yellow).

“Put out the rod for me”, said he to the fisherman, “for I am hungry, to try if thou canst get a trout for me”. The trout was laid out to him, and he killed the trout. He then asked the trout from Black Arcan (he asked Arcan to give him the trout).

“Thou art the man!” said Black Arcan; “when thou wouldst ask a trout and that I am fishing for years for the king, and that I am as yet without a trout for him”.

He knew that it was Fionn that he had. To put the tale on the short cut, he killed a trout for the king, and for his wife, and for his son and for his daughter, before he gave any to
Fionn. Then he gave him a trout. [
Editor’s Note
: This story of the fisherman doling out fish to all and sundry before giving the hero or holy man his portion is common in Irish storytelling. It is said that St. Teca of Aanghloo—County Londonderry in the North of Ireland—asked a fisherman on the banks of the River Roe, for the first fish that he caught. The fisherman landed a great fish which he gave to his wife, claiming that he would catch a bigger fish for the saint; he did in fact catch a larger fish which he gave to his own children, promising he would catch an even larger one for the holy man. When he did so, he presented it to a neighbor who was passing by and the saint lost patience and cursed the river so that it always ran red as blood. Similar stories exist on the Inner Hebridean islands of Islay and Jura and elsewhere in the Western Isles.]