St Brandanus: Der Irische Odysseus

St. Brandanus: A 14th Century Graphic Novel. Part 3

Finally getting back to good old St Brendan and his voyage. (You can catch up on Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven’t read them already.) While writing this post I have been listening to one of my all time favourite pieces of music – The Brendan Voyage by Sean Davey, with the great Liam O’Flynn on the uillinn pipes. Robert wrote about the thrilling experience we had at the National Concert Hall where we attended a memorial concert for Liam O’Flynn which featured the whole Brendan Voyage, with Mark Redmond on the pipes. That post, Piper to the End, has several links to extracts from the Brendan voyage, but I will just post one movement here, and because I am half Canadian it has to be the Newfoundland Suite. Turn the volume up.

This music was written to celebrate the extraordinary journey taken by the late Tim Severin, tracing St Brendan’s voyage across the Atlantic. You can read the book (it’s a great read) or watch the documentary – I found part 1 and Part 2 online. Tim was an incredible explorer – the Brendan Voyage was one of many epic adventures he undertook to trace the footsteps of early voyageurs and travellers – you can read much more about him at his website, from which this photo, and the lead photo above, was taken, with thanks.

OK – back to S Brandanus and the 1360 graphic novel that illustrated his adventures for a medieval audience. For my final series of images from the book, I am using the translation this time of the great Irish scholar, John J O’Meara. In 1976 he translated the Navigatio into English, published by the Dolmen Press. He explains in his Introduction:

. . .within a hundred years of his death there already existed a primitive account in Latin of Brendan’s quest for that happy land [the Land of Promise]. This account was ecclesiastical in general character, but influenced the creation of the secular, heroic Voyage of Bran, written in Irish, which goes back to the late 600’s or early 700’s.The Latin Voyage of St Brendan, which is here translated, was written in Ireland perhaps as early as 800.

O’Meara illustrated his book with woodcuts from Sankt Brandans Seefahrt, printed by Anton Sorg at Augsburg in 1476. As you can see, they are different in character from our manuscript, being woodcuts for one thing, rather than pen and ink drawings. For example, the illustration on the cover is of the famous incident with the whale, covered in Part 2 of this series, while the illustration below is of the Unhappy Judas on a rock in the sea. Contrast it with the same scene from S Brandanus, below the first quote.

Nevertheless, O’Meara’s translation and the S Brandanus illustrations correspond perfectly, indicating that both were based on the same text. I am using the story of Brendan’s meeting with the Unhappy Judas. Regular readers will remember that I wrote about this once before, in my post Harry Clarke, Brendan, Judas – and Matthew Arnold. While the stories are the same, Arnold’s poem ends with Judas disappearing, while the story from the Voyage carries on. Here goes.

When Saint Brendan had sailed towards the south for seven days, there appeared to them in the sea the outline as it were of a man sitting on a rock with a cloth suspended between two small fork-shaped supports about a cloak’s lengths in front of him. The object was being tossed about by the waves just like a little boat in a whirlwind. Some of the brothers said it was a bird, others a boat. . .

Blessed Brendan questioned him as to who he was, or for what fault he was sent here, or what he deserved to justify the imposition of such penance?

The man replied: “I am unhappy Judas, the most evil trader ever. I am not here in accordance with my desert but because of the ineffable mercy of Jesus Christ. This place is not reckoned as punishment but as an indulgence of the Saviour in honour of the Lord’s resurrection.. . . 

When I am sitting here I feel as if I were in a paradise of delights in contrast with my fear of the torments that lie before me this evening. For I burn, like a lump of molten lead in a pot, day and night, in the centre of the mountain that you have seen. . . .

But here I have a place of refreshment every Sunday from evening to evening, after Christmas until the epiphany, at Easter until Pentecost, and on the feast of the purification and assumption of the Mother of God. After and before these feasts I am tortured in the depths of hell with Herod and Pilate and Annas and Caiphas. And so I beseech you through the Saviour of the world to be good enough to intercede with the Lord Jesus Christ that I be allowed to remain here until sunrise tomorrow, so that the demons may not torture me on your coming and bring me to the fate I have purchased with such an evil bargain.

Saint Brendan said to him, May the Lord’s will be done! Tonight until the morning you will not be eaten by the Demons. 

The man of God questioned him again saying what is the meaning of this cloth? 

The other replied I gave this cloth to a leper when I was procurator for the Lord. But it was not mine to give. It belonged to the Lord and the Brothers. And so it gives me no relief but rather it does me hurt. Likewise the iron forks on which it hangs I gave to the priests of the temple to hold up cooking pots. With the rock on which I sit I filled a trench in the public road to support the feet of those passing by, before I was a disciple of the Lord.

The story continues, with the demons coming to take Judas back to hell, upon which Brendan forbids them to do so. The following morning, when they come to fetch Judas, 

. . . an infinite number of Demons was seen to cover the face of the ocean emitting dire sounds and saying ‘Man of God, we curse your coming as well as your going, since our chief whipped us last night with terrible scourges because we did not bring to him that accursed prisoner.

They tell him that Judas will suffer double punishment for the next six days because of this, but this also Brendan forbids, in the name of God, saying: 

I am his servant and whatever I order, I order in his name. My service lies in those matters which he has assigned to me.

The Demons followed him until Judas could no longer be seen. They then returned and lifted up the unhappy soul among them with great force and howling.

Eventually the voyage ends and Brendan returned home, relating everything that had happened on the voyage and saying that his own time had now come to an end. His dying and death are given less than half a page – an unseemly short few words to bring the voyage to a close.

For when he had made all arrangements for after his death, and a short time had intervened, fortified by the divine sacraments, he migrated from among the hands of his disciples in glory to the Lord, to whom is honour and glory from generation to generation. Amen. End.

St. Brandanus: A 14th Century Graphic Novel. Part 2

There are several versions of the Brendan story (that’s a Harry Clarke Brendan, above, from Tullamore), and some of the stories in one version might not be present in another. This particular version is told in a series of illustrations, each one captioned in what Biedermann calls “faulty monastic Latin.” It is contained in a much larger work, the Krumauer Bilder-Codex (or Illustrated Codex), and occurs at the end after many other stories of saints. A Codex, by the way, is a book, rather than a scroll. In the 14th century, vellum was used as the main writing material. The drawings are line drawings in pen and ink. They are simple, but in Biedermann’s opinion ‘joyful.’ I agree. Here’s one of the stories.

While they were walking on the island with Saint Brendan, a certain young man met them, filled with the radiance of the sun.

And that young man boarded the little ship with them and vanished from their sight.

I love the way you see only his legs disappearing up into the clouds.  St Brendan, although happy to see the radiant youth in the first illustration, is looking a little grumpy in this one. “What did we do wrong, that he left us”, I can hear him say. You may note, by the way, that in some illustrations the monks are depicted in a curved shape, like Brendan in the first line drawing above. This convention, known as the S-curve, is also seen in medieval stained glass windows, such as this one from the Exeter Museum.

Here’s another one, from St Helen’s Church in York. This S-curve was a way of introducing some sense of movement into a figure of a saint or monk, and was a typically gothic element, perhaps an attempt to make the figure less rigid.

The illustrations are laid out on facing pages, so you read top left, top right, bottom left, bottom right. Although the Brendan story has four illustrations per two-page spread, most of the stories in the Krumauer Bildercodex have six, or occupy three horizontal spaces instead of two. Here’s an image of a typical lay-out, although I don’t know what story is being told in it.

At some point there is a need for a new boat. No problem – Brendan sticks his staff in the ground and immediately a tree springs up. The monks set to work on it and in no time have carved out a boat.

In the next illustration they are at sea and raising a sail. Aha – I hear you cry, but now there are only three of them. And what kind of sail is that? And also – surely they were in an Irish curragh – what about all the hides? Alas – the Codex provides no answers to our urgent questions, although the story-teller who used the illustrations as he narrated to an eager audience may have done all that. We don’t know who commissioned the Krumauer Bildercodex, although since a production like this was time-consuming and expensive, it may have been a noble patron or a monastery. 

One of the most famous of the Brendan stories is that of the giant fish, sometimes called Jasconius, and often referred to as a whale. 

The caption reads: Here they found an island which stood upon a fish, and they hung a pot over a great fire, wanting to boil a sheep, and the fire began to burn the fish, and the fish moved the island. 

Here is Whitley Stokes’ translation of the story from the Book of Lismore

Now after the Easter had come the great sea-beast raised his shoulder on high over the storm and over the wave-voice of the sea, so that it was level, firm land, like a field equally smooth, equally high. And they go forth upon that land and there they celebrate the Easter, even one day and two nights.

After they had gone on board their vessels, the whale straightway plunged under the sea. And it was in that wise they used to celebrate the Easter, to the end of seven years, on the back of the whale, as Cundedan said :

Brenainn loved lasting devotion

According to synod and company :

Seven years on the back of the whale :

Hard was the rule of devotion.

For when the Easter of every year was at hand the whale would heave up his back, so that it was dry and solid land.

Since this is one of the most celebrated of the Brendan legends, it is not surprising that it is the story we see most often depicted in stained glass windows. Above is a beauty by Ethel Rhind of An Túr Gloine, in St Brendan’s College in Killarney. And of course, below, one by George Walsh, this one from St Brendan’s Church, the Glen, in Cork.

I will conclude this post with five illustrations for the story of the Golden Bridle, called the Silver Bit in the account I am using. This version is from the esteemed Canon O’Hanlon, (below) from his Life of St Brendan, in Volume 5 of his Lives of the Irish Saints (available online at https://archive.org/).

It is obvious, since the illustrations track so closely, that O’Hanlon was using the same translation as the Bilder-Codex. But I should warn you that in his translation the demon is cast in the form of a black child, an ‘Ethiop,’ as it is in other versions too. In the Codex it is simply referred to as a demon and depicted as a horned beast with a tail.

But, while they slept, Brendan saw a child, black as an Ethiop, holding a bit, and playing before the unfortunate brother, in whose eyes he made it glitter. The saint arose, and he passed that night in prayer till day. When morning dawned, the monks rose as usual, to give praise to the Almighty, and afterwards to regain their ship. Once more, the table was found furnished, as on the day preceding; and thus, for three days and for three nights, the Lord prepared food for his servants. There, too, for three whole days, by the Divine will, they rested on that isle. 

Then they returned to their ship, when Brendan said: ” See, brethren, doth not one of you carry off something from here?” “God forbid,” they replied, “that a robbery should dishonour our voyage.” “Then,” said St. Brendan, “behold, our brother, whom I warned yestereve, has now in his robe a silver bit, that the devil gave him this night.” The brother instantly flung that bit en the ground. . .


. . . and fell at the feet of the man of God, crying: “Father, I have sinned: pardon! pray for the salvation of my soul.” And, at the same moment, all fell down to pray for their brother’s salvation. 

Rising up, they saw the wretched Ethiop escape from the guilty man’s bosom, howling and crying : “Why drive me, O man of God, from my abode, where for seven years I have dwelt, and thus expel me from my inheritance. Brendan immediately turned to the brother, and said: “Receive promptly the Body and Blood of Christ, for thy soul is about t leave thy body, and this is the place of thy burial. But, thy brother, who came with you from the monastery, shall find his place of sepulture in hell.” Whereupon, that penitent monk received Holy Eucharist . . .

. . . and his soul departed; but, it was received by Angels, in the sight of the other monks. His body was then buried. Also, St. Brendan had ordered the expulsed demon, in God’s name, to hurt no person, until the Day of General Judgment.

There’s more of course, and I am undecided whether to continue next time or come back to it later. I’ll sleep on it, and dream of the Land of Promise and of picnicking on the back of a whale.

Part 1 is here.

St. Brandanus: A 14th Century Graphic Novel. Part 1

I am fond of telling people (because I read it somewhere) that the Voyage of St Brendan the Navigator was a “medieval best seller.” But I have just acquired a book (above) that made me look more closely at that claim. And yes, it’s a true statement, and my book is part of a sprawling tradition of stories about our own beloved St Brendan, that were written across medieval Europe in many languages over several centuries.

This statue of Brendan dominates the town of Bantry. It’s by Ian and Imogen Stuart

I’m mainly illustrating this post with images of St Brendan in stained glass or other art forms. Since he’s one of our favourite Irish saints here, this isn’t hard. But the next post will be illustrated by images from the book, St Brandanus: Der Irische Odysseus. This post is mainly background about St Brendan and his legendary journey.

Willy Earley’s Brendan, St Brendan’s College, Killarney

Brendan’s Navigatio is perhaps best understood as one manifestation of the deep well of mythology that many of our stories have come from. St Brendan sets out from Ireland with several companions (the number changes from version to version) and journeys over the sea for several years. Along the way he encounters wonderful islands, strange creatures, demons and whales, colonies of feathered men and beautiful women. Many miracles keep him and his companions alive and moving onwards towards the Land of Promise.

This window by Ethel Rhind of An Túr Gloine is also in St Brendan’s College in Killarney

This great Irish tradition of seafaring pilgrimage is called Immram and is part of a wider-world mythological treasury that includes Sinbad the Sailor and Odysseus, as well as some other Irish saints. Brendan’s tale is based on a pre-Christian legend called Immram Brain (the full text of which can be read here). Here’s a good summary, courtesy of (unlikely as it seems) the University of Texas in Austin.

The text relates how a mysterious woman appearing in the fort of the protagonist, Bran son of Febal, tells him about a magic apple-tree on the island of Emain Ablach, a terrestrial paradise far away to the west of Ireland and abode of the sea-god Manannán mac Lir, which she describes as a place Without sorrow, without grief, without death, without any sickness, without debility from wounds.

Subsequently, Bran sets out to find this island with three times nine companions: on their way they encounter the sea-god, who directs them to an island inhabited by laughing people, after which they reach a different island inhabited exclusively by women. There, Bran and his retinue spend many blissful years, not noticing the passing of time. When finally Nechtan, one of Bran’s companions, is overcome by homesickness, they decide to return to Ireland but are warned by the queen of the island not to set foot on Irish soil. Upon their arrival, Nechtan disregards the warning and immediately crumbles to dust, as they had spent so many years on the magic island that they were well past their dying age; Bran on the contrary remains on the boat and, after telling their adventures to some onlookers on the shore, sets out again for new adventures.

Readers who are familiar with Irish mythology will immediately recognise the similarity of Nechtan’s story to that of the famed warrior Oisín, who goes to live with the beautiful Niamh of the Golden Hair in TIr na nÓg (the Land of Youth), and to whom the same fate befalls when he returns to Ireland. 

The muscular statue of a mature Brendan in Fenit, Co Kerry, which is the work of Tadgh O’Donoghue. Below is another image of this wonderful work

But to get back to Brendan – the story of his voyage became the principle Immram of the Middle Ages. Originally written in Latin as early as the 9th century, by the 12th century, it was one of the most popular medieval legends, with versions in many languages: French, Italian, English, Dutch, German, Irish, Welsh, and more. In fact, more than a hundred manuscript versions survive. That does not include the Life of Brendan from the Book of Lismore, compiled in the 1480s, and wonderfully translated by Whitley Stokes, even though that Life contains the voyage within it.

Just to give you a flavour of Stokes’ language, here a little extract from the Life:

So Brenainn, son of Finnlug, sailed then over the wave-voice of the strong-maned sea, and over the storm of the green-sided waves, and over the mouths of the marvellous, awful, bitter ocean, where they saw the multitude of the furious red-mouthed monsters, with abundance of the great sea-whales. And they found beautiful marvellous islands, and yet they tarried not therein.

Brendan and his foster-mother, St Ita. In Killorglin, by George Stephen Walsh

The thing about all these manuscript versions of Brendan’s Navigatio is that none except a couple is illustrated. My recent acquisition (thank you, Innana Rare Books!) is a book about one of only two fully illustrated versions, although isolated illustrations crop up here and there. The book was published in 1980 and is a work of scholarship by Hans Biedermann. Biedermann was a highly respected Austrian academic and an expert on symbolism and mythology. A professor at the University of Graz, he died in 1990, aged only 60. This is the only photograph of him I have been able to find.

This means, of course, that the book is in German, and no English translation exists. I turned to my favourite AI tool, Perplexity, to help me with the translations and it provided me with a page-by-page summary. 

This window is in KIllorglin and is by James Cox. It emphasises the scholarly monk in the main panel, leaving the seafarer to the predella

A digression – I am as concerned as you all are about the use and mis-use of AI. For the purpose of this project I used Perplexity as an AI-powered search engine, translator and research assistant, asking it to fact-check items for me, and to dig deeper into sources and references. Because the book is in German, and some of the sources I consulted are in European libraries, I couldn’t have done it without this kind of help. Perplexity also ‘fixed up’ the photograph of Hans Biedermann above, from the tiny fuzzy image which was all I could find online. The writing, however, is all my own – don’t worry, none of this was written by a chatbot.

A detail from a George Walsh window

I am also painfully aware that I am many words in and I haven’t actually shown you what the book is all about. It contains facsimile reproductions of 62 plates from the Krumauer Bildercodex, Codex 370, which is a manuscript kept at the Austrian National Library. The plates illustrate the voyage of St Brendan. There is a minimum of text, in the form of captions in Latin in Gothic script. It is, in essence a graphic novel – and it dates to 1360!

Caption reads: Here the holy abbot Brendan, serving God and the blessed Mary with all his strength, had under him nearly three thousand monks

Next week we will get into the illustrations and look at what may have been the origins and the purpose of the manuscript. They are all pen and ink line drawings – above and below is a foretaste.

Caption reads: Here they set out upon the sea, sailing, and came to an island.

Part 2 is here