Last Things

by Bynum, Caroline Walker; Freedman, Paul;

  There are four sections to the “second” Vision of Adomnán: an introduction explaining the reason for the devastation, a description of the horrors, a plan to ward off the destruction, and examples of how successful such a course of action had been in the past. The treatise has an accumulation of ideas from earlier works. There is a list of the wicked individuals who are especially liable to suffer, among whom are ungodly teachers, impious kings, and those who are morally lax, a reworking of the categories of sinful persons also found in the first Vision of Adomnán and [The Day of] Judgment. Specific reference is made to the complaint of evils, some of which were usually found in these tracts (such as the destruction of holy places) and some that are not so usual (such as the practice of magic), with the additional accusation that the Irish were behaving as badly as pagans, except that they did not worship idols. In some ways this is not entirely different from contemporary interest throughout Europe in signs of the apocalypse as prophecies of current events.96 There is a reference to Patrick’s petition to save the Irish from the fire of Doom that follows Nennius’s History of Britain and the Tripartite Life of Patrick. The idea of saintly intervention is repeatedly made in the second vision, which claims that injustices done to the churches have resulted in their patron saints refusing to revisit them or other places associated with their lives on earth: birthplace, place of baptism, place of death, and their burial plot. This is a refinement of the similar idea on the resting of souls found in the Catechesis Celtica and various voyage tales as well as the first vision attributed to Adomnan. Finally, there is color symbolism as the bodies of the damned will be made of black ashes, the color of their souls, which is found also in the Tidings of the Resurrection.

  The Gaels survived the year 1096, but the hysteria that occurred and the sincerity of belief in its terrors may have helped hasten the progress of ecclesiastical reform among them. Within a generation a series of reforming synods had begun to change the administration, both physical and intellectual, of the Irish churches, while those in Scotland had reform helped along by royal support.97 The reform of the churches among the Gaels followed the outline presented in the vision literature, as the claims of the hereditary clergy were set aside in favor of the reformed monastic orders. The heretical teachings were corrected, and liturgy and ritual were brought into conformity with the rest of Latin Christendom. The impious clergy were admonished in letters from popes and colleagues. The “heirs” of Patrick took holy orders and became bishops, an example followed by other members of the hereditary clergy.

  The changes in the church were the beginning of the end for the Gaelic imaginative genius on the topic of Last Things. During the eleventh century, apocryphal literature from elsewhere in Europe was circulating round Ireland, and it began to influence insular works. But the final two productions to be discussed here—the Vision of Tnúdgal and the Fifteen Tokens of Doomsday—also had a popularity that overshadowed earlier works. A tale that would be one of the best known of the insular eschatological texts is the Vision of Tnúdgal (Visio Tnugali), which was composed circa 1149.98 Probably written in the Irish monastery at Ratisbon, the vision was seen by a warrior from the south of Ireland named Tnúdgal. He travels through the otherworld, where he meets famous individuals from the past and from his own time, as in Dante’s journey in the Divine Comedy. Even though this vision owes some debt to earlier Irish materials, in the main this treatise incorporates ideas and themes current throughout western Christendom. For example, the image of Satan chained in hell, graphically portrayed in a Leonese manuscript of circa 1047, is also found in the Vision of Tnúdgal.99 A Cistercian influence also has been identified in this vision, especially in its celebration of St. Malachy, the friend of St. Bernard of Clairvaux.100 Less well known, and possibly the latest of the distinctly Irish works, is the Fifteen Tokens of Doomsday, believed to have been composed sometime after 1170.101 The Fifteen Tokens borrow heavily from earlier works, particularly the Psalter of the Quatrains, and would become a favorite source work throughout the Celtic lands, especially Wales. Those two works were almost a postscript to previous centuries of speculation on the end of time.

  Contemplation of Last Things

  Why were these speculations on Last Things so popular? Two suggestions can be offered. The first is that there were many similarities between eschatological and secular works. The presentation of theological ideas within the context of an adventure, such as the voyage tales, ensured an enthusiastic reception from a society with a taste for the heroic and fantastic. The idea of a chronological state-of-grace, visible as early as the eighth century in the Voyage of Bran, became intertwined with longevity as part of waiting for the end of the world found in the voyage of the Uí Chorra. The character of a penitent or saint waiting for Doomsday on an island in the ocean was as suitable for an adventure tale as it was for a hagiographical or theological work. Eschatological materials contained much that was exotic, such as descriptions of the fire of the great conflagration, the casting of the damned into hell, or the terrors of the final week. The apparently indiscriminate mingling of eschatological tracts with romance and adventure stories in the early twelfth-century Book of the Dun Cow shows how slight was the line between speculation on sacred themes and popular adventure or romance. A clear lack of distinction between theological speculation and popular entertainment is apparent among the works preserved in this volume because the eschatological tracts are preceded and followed by sagas and adventure tales. For example, the Two Sorrows of Heaven is followed by the tale of the Intoxication of the Ulster-men, while the Voyage of Bran is followed by the romantic adventure of the Wooing of Emer (the wife of the hero Cú Chulainn).

  There was also the heroic aspect to form or shape, which reflects the Celtic fascination with the body as well as its importance in their culture. In Irish literature there are numerous examples of how the body was believed to reflect one’s innermost thoughts and virtues. Dishonor might produce a blemish, usually on the face, while the color of the countenance could reflect righteous indignation, fear, or shame. The color symbolism employed in the second Vision of Adomnán or the details provided by the Tidings of the Resurrection concerning the appearance after resurrection illustrate a fascination with the human body. The idea of shape-shifting into a form other than human, especially the transformation of the soul into the shape of a bird, is found for certain saintly individuals in tales such as the Voyage of Uí Chorra.

  The second suggestion is that these speculations on Last Things reflect popular concerns among the Gaels. Private devotion and prayer were a feature of the Irish church, and they are reflected in materials dealing with Last Things, as the earliest works were concerned with a personal eschatology. Pilgrimage or exile as a form of submission to divine will is also a recurring theme, and the religious houses founded on the Continent for the wandering Gaels testify to the popularity of forsaking one’s homeland. Reverence towards saints was another popular aspect of Christianity in Ireland and Gaelic-speaking Scotland, especially the rôle played by saints either at the Last Judgment or in preventing terrors, actively or as interpreters. These reflections are not just limited to the eschatological elements in the voyage and vision literature but include the contemplation of the end of time as a theme for sermons.

  The influence of specific groups on ideas about the end of time could have been more important than is now appreciated. Religious reform at the end of the eighth century could be part of the explanation for the theological influences on voyage tales. After the mid-eighth century, close association between the churches and the aristocracy led to accusations of worldliness in the church, and a reaction to it was the Céli Dé (“Clients of God”) movement, which proposed to reintroduce a new rigor into ecclesiastical discipline and practice. As part of their program, it has been suggested that the Céli Dé themselves promoted the voyage tales.102 Another group that appears to have had an influence was the Vikings. Various episodes in voyage tales are now considered to reflect informat
ion gained from sailing in the northern Atlantic. In the Voyage of Máel Dúin, there is a silver pillar, which could be a description of an iceberg, while a well of water that rises and falls as a rainbow could be an account of a geyser in Iceland.103 More generally, the terror from Viking raids, in addition to their assaults with seeming impunity on churches, could be part of the reason for the apparent plethora of texts composed after the ninth century which discuss the end of time. Because their Christian victims saw them as the very creatures of evil, little additional imagination was required to consider the arrival of the Vikings as a warning of the approaching Doomsday. Works such as the Tripartite Life of Patrick or the second Vision of Adomnán connect the geinti (heathen) or gall (foreigner) with the approaching Day of Judgment. They would lead astray Christians, and the explanation of the Gall-Gáidil (Foreign Irish) offered in the eleventh-century Fragmentary Annals is that they had forsaken their baptism; even though the Vikings were wicked to the churches, those men were worse.104 As the Viking settlements in Ireland became towns in the late tenth and eleventh centuries, the influence of the heathens among them on the local Christian community was a worry, and their influence is specifically cited as a reason for punishment in the second Vision of Adomnán. The Vikings also either caused or hastened various changes in the churches that were viewed with alarm in some quarters. Not only might Viking attacks on religious houses have led to a greater intellectual preoccupation with Last Things, but the very destruction they caused mandated the physical reorganization often resented by the clergy themselves, such as the rise of the airchinnech (the lay manager of church properties), who is frequently cited as a prime candidate for punishment at the Last Judgment.

  The changes in eschatological ideas from the fifth to the twelfth century provide evidence of evolving intellectual concerns among the Gaels. The earliest Celtic writers such as Patrick, Gildas, or Columbanus content themselves with simple statements closely following biblical precedents. Their belief in the imminence of the end of time allowed little room for any elaboration on the theme. External events such as the collapse of imperial Roman administration in Britain slightly before Patrick’s lifetime or the appearance of devastating plagues during Columbanus’s career were as convincing proof of the approaching judgment as was the plague of 1095–96. After the seventh century there was an increased speculation on the nature of Last Things based on the Bible and apocryphal texts. While tales such as the Voyage of Bran imply rather than expound on those themes, later works such as the Voyage of Uí Chorra make eschatological elaboration a fundamental part of the story. At the same time there becomes visible increased speculation about the pioneers of Christianity among the Celts. Thus Nennius includes a passage on the role to be played by Patrick on the Day of Judgment. In Ireland this reworking of hagiography included the production of vernacular versions of saintly vitae in the tenth century, such as that for Adomnán, but the most extensive production was the collection and amplification of the Patrician materials in the so-called Tripartite Life. The transformation of Patrick from the historic missionary to a figure more suited to the demands of a folk hero was completed when he bargains with God for the condition of the Irish at the end of time.

  By the tenth century, less partisan minds had turned to the topic of the end of the world. Tracts such as the first Vision of Adomnán or [The Day of] Judgment note that the sinfulness of society as a whole announces the approaching finale. Specific classes or occupations are singled out for censure; by the twelfth century, the Vision of Tnúdgal identifies particular individuals. At the same time there was an increased interest in the chronological indicators of the approaching end. They were seen not in terms of a particular year but in the circumstances of a saint’s feast or in the appearance of physical phenomena. While earlier works made passing reference to such concerns, by the tenth century much more attention was given to the theme of the fifteen signs of Doomsday or the horrors associated with the feast of John the Baptist. Changes within the Church itself could have had a part to play, and by the late eleventh century the Celtic churches were being criticized as antiquated by the proponents of ecclesiastical reform. A parallel concern was heresy or, to put it more mildly, beliefs not in line with current orthodox views; the first Vision of Adomnán speaks sharply of those whose teachings might lead others to doom. Stress from both intellectual and physical affairs could lead, not unnaturally, to contemplation of the Last Days and the rewards (or punishments) awaiting.

  The crescendo to this eschatological interest appears to have been reached with the panic of 1096. The terrors of that year might have been one of the inspirations not only for the preservation of the earlier eschatological materials but also for the composition of the famous Vision of Tnúdgal, which dealt with Last Things on a personal level, almost a return to the theme of the Vision of Fursa related by Bede. A more physical influence might be the effort to locate the entrance to hell on an island in the midst of Lough Derg known as St. Patrick’s Purgatory. Notice of it first appears in the written records in the twelfth century, when it was already famous as a pilgrim site.105After the mid-twelfth century, however, the topic of the end of time began to lose its originality. True, there were many texts—prose and verse—on the subject, but mainly they rework earlier materials. Partly this was the result of the changing nature of literary composition among the Gaels, a time of transition as the manuscript tradition began to pass from the religious houses to the laity.106 Interest in topics associated with the Final Days continued, and works such as the Fifteen Tokens or the Evernew Tongue found admirers and imitators for generations. Their debt to earlier works is obvious, and those early texts allow for an understanding of the imagination and concerns of Gaelic society during a formative period.

  Exodus and Exile

  Joachim of Fiore’s Apocalyptic Scenario

  E. Randolph Daniel

  When Israel was in Egypt’s land: Let my people go:

  Oppressed so hard they could not stand. Let my people go.

  Go down, Moses, ’Way down in Egypt land.

  Tell ole Pharaoh. Let my people go.

  Your foes shall not before you stand: Let my people go.

  And you’ll possess fair Canaan’s land: Let my people go.

  Oh, let us all from bondage flee: Let my people go.

  And let us all in Christ be free: Let my people go.

  We need not always weep and moan: Let my people go.

  And wear these slavery chains forlorn: Let my people go.1

  When slaves sang this spiritual about Moses leading the people of Israel out of Egypt into the wilderness and Joshua leading them to the conquest of Canaan, they expressed their longing for freedom, for equality with their masters, and for a share in the prosperity of the United States. On January 1, 1863 Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation freeing the slaves in those states that formed the Confederacy. On December 18, 1865, the thirteenth amendment abolished slavery. The fourteenth amendment with its “due process clause” was ratified on July 28, 1868. The slaves were liberated during and shortly after the Civil War. Nevertheless, some 130 years later, many African-Americans have still not arrived at the land of Canaan. Despite the success of a growing black middle class, many blacks are mired in urban ghettos, where a racially biased war on drugs, high unemployment, and police brutality persist. They have escaped Egypt, only to find themselves wandering in the wilderness for more than a century.

  On November 7, 1917 the Bolsheviks successfully took over the revolutionary government of Russia. Eighty-one years later their dream of a stateless and classless worker’s paradise has been totally shattered. The USSR has broken up into nationalist states, and Russia itself is groping its way toward capitalism.

  So pharaonic oppression, deliverance, Sinai, and Canaan are still with us, powerful memories shaping our perceptions of the political world. The “door of hope” is still open; things are not what they might be. . . . This is a central theme in western thought. . . . We
still believe . . . what the exodus first taught . . . first,—that wherever you live, it is probably Egypt;—second, that there is a better place, a world more attractive, a promised land;—and third, that “the way to the land is through the wilderness.” There is no way to get from here to there except by joining together and marching.2

  The original exodus had three components: the liberation from Egypt, the journey through the wilderness, and the conquest of the land of promise. Liberation has been the easiest step to achieve. The journey was longer and harsher than the Hebrews expected—Moses was dead before the people entered Canaan. The third and final step has proved truly elusive. Sometimes the liberated never reached it at all and remained in the wilderness. At other times Canaan proved disappointing, another Egypt. The exodus formed a paradigm that has shaped the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of reformers and revolutionaries, of the oppressed and those whose mission was to free the suffering, but Canaan has either eluded them or proved to be as oppressive as Egypt.