The old gods and goddesses are defeated and are forced to retreat underground, dwelling in the hills (sídhe). Eventually, they are called ‘people of the hills’ and the sídhe become ‘fairies’ in folklore. The best known is the banshee (bean sídhe, woman of the fairies) who wails outside the home of the family to whom she is attached when one of that family is about to die. The great god of arts and crafts, Lugh, was demoted to Lugh chronáin (stooping Lugh), Anglicised as ‘leprechaun’.
The second group of tales are called ‘The Ulster Cycle’. These are the stories of the deeds of the ‘warriors of the Red Branch’, the military élite of Ulster of whom Cúchulainn was the great champion. This group of tales contains the famous epic Táin Bó Cuailgne, often regarded as the Irish equivalent of the Iliad. This is the story of the campaign waged by Medb, the masterful queen of Connacht, to capture the famous Brown Bull of Ulster. She leads a vast army against the kingdom of Ulster whose warriors are prevented from defending it by a strange debility inflicted by the war goddess Macha. Only the youthful hero Cúchulainn is able to carry on a single-handed resistance against her army.
The Táin is the longest and most powerful of all the Irish myths. It is a separate story from the Táin Bó Fraoch, which tells how the handsome warrior Fraoch sets out to woo Findbhair, the beautiful daughter of Medb of Connacht. The other stories of the cycle are enlargements on themes occurring in the Táin, preparatory tales leading up to the epic, romances that were added later to fulfil people’s desire to know the subsequent fortunes of the main characters, and, of course, a group of entirely independent tales but with related characters.
The third group of tales is ‘The Cycle of the Kings’, and these might usefully be called legends, although there are many supernatural motifs in the stories. The stories relate to semi-legendary kings, kings who undoubtedly had a real existence in remote Irish history but who had become the subject for romanticising so that we no longer know where reality ends and the story-telling begins. For example, Niall Noíghiallach, Niall of the Nine Hostages, who is recorded as being high king from AD 379 to 405, is regarded as the progenitor of the Uí Néill dynasty, the kings of Ulaidh (Ulster). He is recorded as raiding Britain and Gaul during the time of Theodosius the Great and encountering the Roman general Stilicho. The story of Niall is a typical case in which history and myth are combined in the minds of the storytellers. Symbolism is used to mark his birth; signs are given to point the way to his being the lawful king; he survives attempts to destroy him by those seeking to evade the prophecy given by Flaithius (Royalty), obviously a goddess of sovereignty, that he will be the greatest high king. Flaithius has appeared as an ugly hag, with black skin and green teeth, demanding that Niall and his companions have intercourse with her. Only Niall does so whereupon she turns into the beautiful goddess.
The fourth, and last, group of stories is ‘The Fenian Cycle’. These are the adventures of Fionn Mac Cumhail and the warriors of the Fianna, the élite bodyguard to the high kings of Tara. The Fianna are said to have been founded in 300 BC by Fiachadh and consisted of twenty-five battalions raised from Clan Bascna and Clan Morna. Fionn Mac Cumhail (who has subsequently often appeared in Anglicised form as Finn mac Cool), son of Cumal, the ruler of Clan Bascna, becomes the leader of the Fianna during the time of the high king Cormac Mac Art. The stories of Fionn and his Fianna are innumerable, covering his birth to his death. These stories were highly popular in late medieval Ireland and although the Irish had produced their own native Arthurian saga, many tales of which are not translated into English, nor even acknowledged by ‘Arthurian scholars’, the stories of Fionn and the Fianna were not displaced as the great hero tales of Ireland.
The Fenian Cycle is sometimes known as the Ossianic Cycle. The first bold synthesis of the eight major parts of the cycle into a cohesive whole appeared in the twelfth-century work Acallamh na Senórach (Colloquy of the Ancients). Next to the Táin Bó Cuailgne it is one of the longest medieval compositions.
The oldest surviving sources of Irish mythology are the Leabhar na hUidre (Book of the Dun Cow), the Leabhar Laignech (Book of Leinster) and a book known only by its Bodleian Library reference number – Rawlinson Manuscript B 502. The Leabhar na hUidre was compiled under the supervision of Mael Muire Mac Céilechair, who was killed by marauders at the monastery of Clonmacnoise in 1106. The Leabhar Laignech (originally called the Leabhar na Nuachongbála, named after Noughaval in Co. Leix), was compiled by Aed Mac Crimthainn, abbot of the monastery at Tír-dá-Ghlas (Terryglass in Co. Tipperary). The Rawlinson Manuscript appears to have been compiled at Clonmacnoise.
Professor Kuno Meyer, in his introduction to Liadain and Curithir: A Love Story (1900), listed 400 tales in manuscript, adding another hundred which had come to light since he compiled his list. He thought a further fifty to one hundred tales could lie in libraries still undiscovered. He estimated that scholastic knowledge of Irish myth and legend was based on only 150 tales that had been edited and annotated out of a total of 500–600. Eleanor Hull, in her introduction to The Cuchullin Saga in Irish Literature (1898), had made a similar estimation. Professor Gearóid Mac Eoin more recently confirmed that the situation had not changed during this last century. It is incredible to think that what we know of this vibrant mythology is based on 150 stories while a further 450 remain unedited and untranslated.
The world of Irish mythology is remote from the classical world of Greek and Latin myth. Yet one is constantly surprised by the fact that Irish mythology seems to share a curious Mediterranean warmth with its fellow Indo-European cultures. The brooding blackness that permeates Nordic myth is not there and, at times, it is difficult to realise that we are looking at a north-western European culture. A happy spirit pervades the majority of tales, even the tragedies such as ‘The Fate of the Sons of Usna’ or ‘The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne’. There is an eternal spirit of optimism. Death is never the conqueror and we are reminded, of course, that the Celts were one of the first cultures in Europe to evolve a doctrine of the immortality of the soul.
The real parallels to Irish mythology, as Professor Myles Dillon has so clearly demonstrated in his lecture ‘Celt and Hindu’ and in more detail in Celts and Aryans (1975), lie in Hindu mythology. And to say that a happy spirit pervades the Irish myths is not to say that evil is never encountered. Indeed, as in the real world, good and evil constantly rub shoulders and the malevolent forms of the Fomorii, the gods and goddesses of darkness and death, are constantly hovering on the edge of the northern ocean.
In these stories both the deities and the humans (immortals and mortals) are no mere physical beauties with empty heads. Their intellectual attributes are equal to their physical capabilities. They are subject to all the natural virtues and vices, and practise all seven deadly sins. Their world, both this one and the Otherworld, is one of rural happiness, a world in which they indulge in all the pleasures of life in an idealised form: love of nature, art, games, feasting and heroic single combat.
The myths and legends of Ireland are also to be found in the Manx and Scottish Gaelic traditions for these languages did not begin to separate from their old Irish parent until the fifth and sixth centuries, just as the British Celtic language diverged at the same time into Welsh, Cornish and Breton. In Welsh mythology, we can see themes that demonstrate that the Irish and Welsh have a common source; we find echoes of a common Celtic mythological, religious and, perhaps, historical experience. Lugh Lamhfhada of Irish myth appears in the guise of Lleu Llaw Gyffes, Danu is Dôn, Bíle is Beli, Nuada is Nudd and Fionn Mac Cumhail has a Welsh equivalent in Gwyn ap Nudd. The Brythonic forms of Celtic are thought to have diverged from the Goidelic form in about the seventh century BC so it is fascinating to see the parallels. Nevertheless, the Welsh material is nowhere near as extensive or as old as the Irish tales and sagas.
The earliest surviving Welsh mythological texts are from the fourteenth century AD. The tales are collectively known as Pedair Cainc y Mabinogi (The Four Branches of the M
abinogi). The term ‘Mabinogi’ originally meant ‘a tale of youth’ and has since become simply ‘a tale’. The tales come from three major textual sources: the Llyfr Gwyn Rhydderch (White Book of Rhydderch, compiled c. 1300–1325); the Llyfr Coch Hergest (Red Book of Hergest, compiled 1375–1425) and the Peniarth Manuscript (c. 1225–35). Scholars believe that the texts were copies from earlier manuscript sources.
There are twelve tales which comprise the Mabinogi: the stories of Pwyll, Branwen, Manawydan, Math, Culhwch and Olwen, The Dream of Macsen Wledig, Lludd and Lleufelys, The Dream of Rhonabwy, Peredur, Owain, Geraint and Enid, and the story of Taliesin.
The story of Pwyll, lord of Dyfed, echoes the ‘Holy Grail’ theme for Pwyll adventures in Annwn, the Otherworld, and searches for a magic vessel. Bran and Branwen is a tale of love, epic battles interwoven with a supernatural background. Bran is the son of Llyr, the Welsh equivalent of Lir, ruler of the Island of the Mighty, and brother of Manawydan, the equivalent of Manannán. Bran’s sister Branwen marries Matholwch of Ireland and is ill treated by him. The Britons then go to war to punish Matholwch, a war in which only seven, if we include Bran, Britons survive; these are Pryderi, Manawydan, Taliesin, Gluneu son of Taran (Taranis was the old Celtic god of thunder), Grudye and Heilyn. Bran himself is mortally wounded and asks his companions to cut off his head, which remains alive until it is taken back to Britain.
Culhwch’s search for Olwen is thought to be one of the earliest surviving native Arthurian sagas while The Dream of Rhonabwy is regarded as a close second.
One of the most interesting stories is Hanes Taliesin. Taliesin was a poet who flourished in the Celtic north of Britain in the sixth century AD. He is mentioned in the Historia Britonum and the fourteenth-century Book of Taliesin, a group of twelve poems which some believe to represent his authentic work. Hanes Taliesin is a highly mythologically oriented tale which represents Taliesin as the child of a goddess, Ceridwen, who goes through a number of transmigrations (or reincarnations) before he reaches the state of being Taliesin. One of his songs resembles the invocation of Amairgen, the first Druid, on landing in Ireland and also bears a more than passing resemblance to a passage from the Hindu Bhagavadgita. Sir Ifor Williams believed that Hanes Taliesin was developed in North Wales sometime during the ninth or tenth centuries but had its roots in Welsh culture long before then. Certainly if Taliesin did live in the sixth century this would be so. Other poets identify him as the court poet to King Urien of Rheged (the north-western British Celtic kingdom covering what is now Cumbria) and to his successor King Owain ab Urien. He certainly appears in other Welsh myths, such as the story of Bran and Branwen. His name is frequently coupled with that of Merlin and given as an authority on prophecies.
Since the only complete Celtic mythological texts to survive are from the insular Celts, we do not know nearly as much about Continental or Gaulish Celtic mythology. Dr Miranda J. Green’s Dictionary of Celtic Myth and Legends relies heavily on archaeology to develop her themes, including the names of gods and goddesses, albeit often in their Latin forms, which are found on inscriptions throughout the Continent. Some fragments do seem identifiable with their insular counterparts. Mainly, however, the gods of Gaul can only be glimpsed through Roman eyes. Caesar, as we have seen in our section on Celtic religion, was content simply to give Roman names to the gods – Mercury, Jupiter, Mars, Minerva, Apollo and Dis Pater (Pluto). This unfortunate interpretatio Romana has merely confused their identification and functions.
No Greek or Latin writer has made clear the origin myths of the Celts on the Continent, though we may deduce these from a compendium of evidence and a comparison with Hindu mythology; we have already discussed the similarity of themes based on the ‘divine waters’ of Danu.
In the fabulous and epic histories of Livy we can see some similarities with the insular Celtic stories. We must bear in mind that Livy was born in Patavium (Padua), between the territories of the Veneti and the Cenomani Celts. He was therefore raised in Cisalpine Gaul, soon after the Roman conquest and settlement. It is entirely possible that his family were among the early Romanised Celts. Camille Jullian has suggested, in his Histoire de la Gaule, that Livy’s histories, which are unlike the usual straightforward Roman accounts, were influenced by Celtic oral epics he heard in his youth. We can point to a fascinating example.
In 348 BC the Celts, apparently encouraged by the Latin cities which were trying to break free of Roman dominance, were threatening Rome again. The consul, Lucius Furius Camillus, marched his legions 60 kilometres south of Rome into the modern area of Pontine. He was worried about meeting the Celts in open battle as the Romans were still smarting under previous Celtic defeats.
We are told by Livy that during this campaign a Celt approached the Roman picket lines and announced himself by striking his spear on his shield. He was a champion of outstanding size and wore armour. The Celt, according to Livy, employed an interpreter to issue a challenge for any Roman champion to come forth and meet him in single combat. A tribune named Marcus Valerius, then twenty-three years old, sought permission from Camillus to answer the challenge. Livy then recounts a combat which has remarkable resonances with insular Celtic mythology.
The duel proved less remarkable for its human interest than for the divine intervention of the gods, for as the Roman engaged his adversary, a raven suddenly alighted on his helmet, facing the Celt. The tribune first hailed this with delight, as a sign sent from heaven, and then prayed for the good will and gracious support from whoever had sent him the bird, were it god or goddess. Marvellous to relate, not only did the raven keep the perch it had once chosen, but as often as the struggle renewed it rose up on its wings and attacked the enemy’s face and eyes with beak and claws, until he was terrified at the sight of such a portent; and so bewildered as well as half blinded, he was killed by Valerius. The raven then flew off out of sight towards the east.
Valerius then took the cognomen of Corvus, being the word for crow or raven.
Cassius Dio (c. AD 150–235) repeats this story mentioning Livy as his source. Now this symbolism is scarcely Roman. We know that one of the personae of the Celtic war goddess was in the form of a raven. This is particularly evident in Irish mythology. Indeed, Dr Henri Hubert points to the combat at the ford where the Red Branch champion Cúchulainn fights in single combat. He has rejected the amorous advances of the war goddess the Mór Ríoghain (or Mórrígán, Great Queen), the personification of the triune war goddess. In some versions she assumes the form of a raven of battle and, as a revenge, attacks Cúchulainn during his combat against the champion Lóch. Cúchulainn realises that he does not stand a chance when the great crow or raven stands before him and croaks of war and slaughter. The portent means: ‘My life’s end is near; this time I shall not return alive from the battle.’ Like the unknown Celtic warrior in Livy’s story, he eventually succumbs and, mortally wounded, ties himself to the pillar stone, so that he can die standing up. The goddess, still in raven form, perches on his shoulder and drinks his blood.
I have argued elsewhere that Livy’s story, instead of being a ‘lift’ from a particular mythological tale, could be a recounting of Celtic symbolism. Ravens warn the god Lugh of the approach of a Fomorii army. Lugdunum (Lyons), named after Lugh, once issued a coin with a raven on it. The Celtic goddess Nantosuelta and also the horse goddess Epona are sometimes accompanied by, or depicted as, ravens. In the Welsh story, the Dream of Rhonabwy, we find a raven army raised by Owain ap Urien. Raven symbols are found on Celtic war helmets from the third to second centuries BC.
This was not the first time that Celtic symbolism entered Livy’s work. One of his best-known accounts is of the Celts climbing up the Capitol in Rome at night with the sacred geese of Juno cackling a warning to the Roman garrison. Juno, the wife of Jupiter, was goddess of women and marriage and mother of Mars (Area), the god of war. Now Livy says, and he is echoed by subsequent generations of writers, that these geese were kept as a sacred totem in the temple. In fact, th
e Roman geese were not sacred to Juno but kept in the Capitol’s temples for ritual slaughter during divination practices. If the geese were not sacred to Juno, one cannot help wondering if there is any other reason why Livy introduces them into the epic. It could well be that he is recounting simple fact. On the other hand, as he was raised among Celts, was possibly even a Celt himself, there could be a link with Celtish symbolism here.
Dr Miranda Green, in her Animals in Celtic Life and Myth, has pointed out that geese are most commonly associated with war in Celtic iconography. Because of their watchful and aggressive natures, the birds were used as an appropriate symbol or companion to the gods and goddesses of battle. On top of the skull sanctuary of Roquepertuse, in Provence, is a great free-standing goose gazing attentively as a sentinel. A first-century BC figurine of a war goddess, found in Dinéault, in Brittany, shows her with a helmet surmounted by an aggressive goose. An altarpiece from Vaison shows a Celtic god of war with a goose and a raven as his companions.
Caesar noted that the goose was sacred in Britain and he pointed out that there was a taboo on eating the creatures. The same taboo was found in Ireland until medieval times when it was forbidden to eat the barnacle goose on certain holy days. The exiled Irish soldiers who had to leave Ireland, after their defeat by the English, and serve in the Irish Brigades of countries like France, Spain and Austria were known as na Géanna fiáne, the Wild Geese, a reference to the military symbolism of the goose rather than to its migratory habits.
The goose as a warlike symbol, aggressive and watchful, is found in Celtic culture long before the sack of Rome. The geese in the Capitol were there as sacrificial birds. Are we witnessing a factual incident in that these geese cackled a warning, changing Roman perceptions, or have ‘the sacred geese of Juno’ come into Latin mythology from a Celtic source? Thereafter, we are told, the Romans carried the geese on litters, with purple and gold cushions, in an annual ceremony in Rome and their feeding was made the responsibility of the censors. As part of the same ritual, dogs were crucified on stakes of elder, to remind the people they had not barked a warning of the Celtic attack. It was a ritual which lasted in Rome well into the Christian epoch.
A Brief History of the Celts Page 19
