The Coming of Lugh
and the Fomorians
A
new figure now comes into the myth, no other than Lugh son of Kian,
the Sun-god par excellence
of all Celtica, whose name we can still identify in many historic
sites on the Continent. To explain his appearance we must desert for
a moment the ancient manuscript authorities, which are here
incomplete, and have to be supplemented by a folk-tale which was
fortunately discovered and taken down orally so late as the
nineteenth century by the great Irish antiquary, O'Donovan. In this
folk-tale the names of Balor and his daughter Ethlinn (the latter in
the form “Ethnea”) are preserved, as well as those of some other
mythical personages, but that of the father of Lugh is faintly echoed
in MacKineely; Lugh's own name is forgotten, and the death of Balor
is given in a manner inconsistent with the ancient myth. In the story
as I give it here the antique names and mythical outline are
preserved, but are supplemented where required from the folk-tale,
omitting from the latter those modern features which are not
reconcilable with the myth.
The story, then, goes that Balor, the Fomorian king,
heard in a Druidic prophecy that he would be slain by his grandson.
His only child was an infant daughter named Ethlinn. To avert the
doom he, like Acrisios, father of Danae, in the Greek myth, had her
imprisoned in a high tower which he caused to be built on a
precipitous headland, the Tor Mōr, in Tory Island. He placed the
girl in charge of twelve matrons, who were strictly charged to
prevent her from ever seeing the face of man, or even learning that
there were any beings of a different sex from her own. In this
seclusion Ethlinn grew up—as all sequestered princesses do—into a
maiden of surpassing beauty.
Now it happened that there were on the mainland three
brothers, namely, Kian, Sawan, and Goban the Smith, the great
armourer and artificer of Irish myth, who corresponds to Wayland
Smith in Germanic legend. Kian had a magical cow, whose milk was so
abundant that every one longed to possess her, and he had to keep her
strictly under protection.
Balor determined to possess himself of this cow. One day
Kian and Sawan had come to the forge to have some weapons made for
them, bringing fine steel for that purpose. Kian went into the forge,
leaving Sawan in charge of the cow. Balor now appeared on the scene,
taking on himself the form of a little redheaded boy, and told Sawan
that he had overheard the brothers inside the forge concocting a plan
for using all the fine steel for their own swords, leaving but common
metal for that of Sawan. The latter, in a great rage, gave the cow's
halter to the boy and rushed into the forge to put a stop to this
nefarious scheme. Balor immediately carried off the cow, and dragged
her across the sea to Tory Island.
Kian now determined to avenge himself on Balor, and to
this end sought the advice of a Druidess named Birōg. Dressing
himself in woman's garb, he was wafted by magical spells across the
sea, where Birōg, who accompanied him, represented to Ethlinn's
guardians that they were two noble ladies cast upon the shore in
escaping from an abductor, and begged for shelter. They were
admitted; Kian found means to have access to the Princess Ethlinn
while the matrons were laid by Birōg under the spell of an enchanted
slumber, and when they awoke Kian and the Druidess had vanished as
they came. But Ethlinn had given Kian her love, and soon her
guardians found that she was with child. Fearing Balor's wrath, the
matrons persuaded her that the whole transaction was but a dream, and
said nothing about it; but in due time Ethlinn was delivered of three
sons at a birth.
News of this event came to Balor,
and in anger and fear he commanded the three infants to be drowned in
a whirlpool off the Irish coast. The messenger who was charged with
this command rolled up the children in a sheet, but in carrying them
to the appointed place the pin of the sheet came loose, and one of
the children dropped out and fell into a little bay, called to this
day Port na Delig, or the Haven of the Pin. The other two [pg
112] were duly drowned, and the servant reported his mission
accomplished.
But the child who had fallen into the bay was guarded by
the Druidess, who wafted it to the home of its father, Kian, and Kian
gave it in fosterage to his brother the smith, who taught the child
his own trade and made it skilled in every manner of craft and
handiwork. This child was Lugh. When he was grown to a youth the
Danaans placed him in charge of Duach, “The Dark,” king of the
Great Plain (Fairyland, or the “Land of the Living,” which is
also the Land of the Dead), and here he dwelt till he reached
manhood.
Lugh was, of course, the appointed redeemer of the
Danaan people from their servitude. His coming is narrated in a story
which brings out the solar attributes of universal power, and shows
him, like Apollo, as the presiding deity of all human knowledge and
of all artistic and medicinal skill. He came, it is told, to take
service with Nuada of the Silver Hand, and when the doorkeeper at the
royal palace of Tara asked him what he could do, he answered that he
was a carpenter.
“We are in no need of a
carpenter,” said the doorkeeper; “we have an excellent one in
Luchta son of Luchad.” “I am a smith too,” said Lugh. “We
have a master-smith,” said the doorkeeper, “already.” “Then I
am a warrior,” said Lugh. “We do not need one,” said the
doorkeeper, “while we have Ogma.” Lugh goes on to name all the
occupations and arts he can think of—he is a poet, a harper, a man
of science, a physician, a spencer, and so forth, always receiving
the answer that a man of supreme accomplishment in that art is
already installed at the court of Nuada. “Then ask the King,”
said Lugh, “if he has in his service any one man who is
accomplished in every one of these arts, and if he have, I shall stay
here no [pg 113] longer, nor seek to enter his palace.” Upon this
Lugh is received, and the surname Ildánach is conferred upon him,
meaning “The All-Craftsman,” Prince of all the Sciences; while
another name that he commonly bore was Lugh Lamfada, or Lugh of the
Long Arm. We are reminded here, as de Jubainville points out, of the
Gaulish god whom Caesar identifies with Mercury, “inventor of all
the arts,” and to whom the Gauls put up many statues. The Irish
myth supplements this information and tells us the Celtic name of
this deity.
When Lugh came
from the Land of the Living he brought with him many magical gifts.
There was the Boat of Mananan, son of Lir the Sea God, which knew a
man's thoughts and would travel whithersoever he would, and the Horse
of Mananan, that could go alike over land and sea, and a terrible
sword named Fragarach (“The Answerer”), that could cut
through any mail. So equipped, he appeared one day before an assembly
of the Danaan chiefs who were met to pay their tribute to the envoys
of the Fomorian oppressors; and when the Danaans saw him, they felt,
it is said, as if they beheld the rising of the sun on a dry summer's
day. Instead of paying the tribute, they, under Lugh's leadership,
attacked the Fomorians, all of whom were slain but nine men, and
these were sent back to tell Balor that the Danaans defied him and
would pay no tribute henceforward. Balor then made him ready for
battle, and bade his captains, when they had subdued the Danaans,
make fast the island by cables to their ships and tow it far
northward to the Fomorian regions of ice and gloom, where it would
trouble them no longer.
Lugh, Ireland,
Balor, Fomorians,
under Lugh's
leadership, attacked the Fomorians, all of whom were slain but nine
men, and these were sent back to tell Balor that the Danaans defied
him and would pay no tribute henceforward
