Professional Documents
Culture Documents
din Galai
Facultatea de Litere
Specializarea:
Limba i literatura romn Limba i literatura englez
Curs opional de
literatur englez
Prof. univ. dr. Ioana Mohor-Ivan
D.I.D.F.R.
Course tutor:
Professor Ioana Mohor-Ivan, PhD
DIDFR
COURSE TUTOR:
Dr. Ioana Mohor-Ivan
Obiective:
prelegere teoretica
analiza de text
discutie
eseu.
Tematica:
Beginnings in the Celtic world: Celtic society and culture.
Early Irish Literature. The Mythological Cycle. Mythological masks in W.B. Yeatss
early poems.
The Cycle of Ulster. Cuchulain and the Yeatsian theatre. The myth of Deirdre and
Naoise in Brian Friels plays.
The Cycle of Munster. From Fion to Joyces Finnegans Wake. Oisin in Yeatss vs.
Paul Vincent Carrolls vision.
The King Cycle of tales. The Madness of Sweeney. The Sweeney figure in Irish
literature, from Flann OBrien to Seamus Heaney.
Continental Celtic
Celto-Iberian
Lepontic
Insular Celtic
P-Celtic(Brythonic)
Welsh
Cornish
Breton
Q-Celtic(Goidelic)
Irish Gaelic
Scottish Gaelic
Manx
Around 500 B.C., Ireland was settled by a Q-Celtic people, the Gaels, who
spread through the whole island. In the course of the next centuries, a
number of historical provinces came into being:
a) Ulster (Ulaid), in the north of Ireland;
b) Munster (Mumu), in the south of Ireland;
c) Connacht (Connachta), in the west of Ireland;
d) Leinster (Laigin), in the east of Ireland;
e) Meath (Mide), the residence of Irelands High Kings, in the middle,
with Tara as its capital.
The Hill of Tara, known as "Teamhair", was once the ancient seat of power in
Ireland 142 kings are said to have reigned here in prehistoric and historic
times. In ancient Irish religion and mythology Tara was the sacred place of
dwelling for the gods. Saint Patrick is said to have come to Tara to confront
the ancient religion of the pagans at its most powerful site.
Tribal: the greatest political unit is the tribe (tuath), led by a king (r)
Togla (destructions)
Tna (cattle-raids)
Tochmarca (wooings)
Fessa (feasts)
Aislinga (visions)
Aitheda (elopments
Serca (loves)
Catha (battles)
Immrama (voyages)
After the arrival of Christianity and the adaptation of the Latin alphabet to the
Irish language, the tales are collected and incorporated into four main cycles,
namely:
Mythological
King (historical)
Task:
Write a 4000-word essay on Cultural Landmarks of the Celtic World.
The Tuatha D Danann are the tribe of the Goddess Dana (or Danu), a
mother-goddess signifying fertility and plenty, married to the god Bile (or
Belenos), a sky-centred deity.
The father to most of the gods of the tribe is the Dagda, the good God in
the Celtic sense of good at anything. A figure of immense power, he is often
pictured as a rustic old man, clothed in garb, and possessing three magical
objects: a gigantic club (with which he can both kill enemies and cure
friends), a cauldron that never gets exhausted, a harp that plays by itself.
The Dagda is the father of Ogma (the Irish god of eloquence), and Brigid (or
the "Fiery Arrow or Power".) Brigid is a Celtic three-fold goddess. Her three
aspects are (1) Fire of Inspiration as patroness of poetry, (2) Fire of the
Hearth, as patroness of healing and fertility, and (3) Fire of the Forge, as
patroness of smithcraft and martial arts. She is mother to the craftsmen.
Through the goddess Boann (whose spirit lives within the Boyne river and is
goddess of poetic inspiration and powerful spiritual insight) the Dagda
fathered Aengus (Oengus) Og, the Celtic god of youth and love, described
in the following terms by the Irish poet A.E.:
". . . An energy or love or eternal desire has gone forth which seeks
through a myriad forms of illusion for the infinite being it has left. It is
Angus the Young, an eternal joy becoming love, a love changing into
desire, and leading on to earthly passion and forgetfulness of its own
divinity. The eternal joy becomes love when it has first merged itself in
form and images of a divine beauty that dance before it and lure it from
afar. This is the first manifested world, the Tr nan g or World of
Immortal Youth. The love is changed into desire as it is drawn deeper into
nature, and this desire builds up the Mid-world or World of the Waters.
And, lastly, as it lays hold of the earthly symbol of its desire it becomes on
Earth that passion which is spiritual death . . .
One of the most beautiful lyrical tales in the cycle, Aislinge Oengusa (The
Vision of Aengus) recounts how Aengus, in a dream, has the vision of a
beautiful girl, who prompts a quest that will take years until he will find her
shape-changed in a bird.
Manannn MacLir is the god of the oceans, who lives in Tr-na-n-og (The
Land of Eternal Youth) and is married to the beautiful goddess Fand, whose
name is translated as The Pearl of Beauty. Stories of rebirth and the
Otherworld are associated with him, while his name is commemorated in that
of the Isle of Man.
Manannns father, Lir, was an Irish god who dwelt on the cliffs of Antrim.
One story in the cycle (The Story of the Children of Lir) recounts the
tribulations of his other four children who were transformed into swans by an
evil step-mother, and endured cruel hardship for many centuries until
restored to their human shape. This story, among others, was translated into
English by Lady Augusta Gregory (1852-1932) in a collection of Irish myths
entitled Gods and Fighting Men:
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then, and she went away on the wind in that shape, and she is in it
yet, and will be in it to the end of life and time.
Cath Maige Tuired (The Battle of the Plain of Tuired) is the best-known
tale of the cycle, dealing specifically with the climactic battle between the
Tuatha and the Fomori. The God Lugh assumes the leadership of the tutha
and leads them to victory after he himself kills Balor of the Evil Eye, the most
formidable of the fomori. Lugh becomes thus a divine archetype of kingship,
while he is also the Samildnach (the many-gifted one), mastering all the
arts and the crafts, moving between all the activities of society and be patron
of each one.
The Irish female deities usually indicate sexuality and fertility, with powerful
magical and warlike connotations. There are five goddesses identified with
war, and inspiring battle madness. The Morrgan ("terror" or "phantom
queen") is the greatest of them, being associated with war and death on the
battlefield, sometime appearing in the form of a carrion crow. Other
goddesses of war are the Badb (fury), Dea (the hateful one) Nemain
(frenzy), while Macha (who is also goddess of the horses) is also included
here. Another triad is formed by the goddesses identified with the sovranty
and spirit of Ireland, represented as three sisters, Eire, Banba and Fotla.
Some of these deities attracted singular worship, associated with the
festivals that marked the Celtic year:
Beltain, celebrated around 1 May, was a fire festival sacred to the god
Belenos, the Shining One. Cattle were let out of winter quarters and
driven between two fires in a ritual cleansing ceremony that may have
had practical purposes too. It was a time for feasts and fairs and for
the mating of animals.
Lughnasadh was a summer festival lasting for two weeks that fell
around 31 July. It was said to have been introduced to Ireland by the
god Lugh, and so was sacred to this god. This festival was celebrated
with competitions of skill, including horse-racing (perhaps this is why
the festival was also linked to the goddess Macha)
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2.4.
After their being defeated by the Milesians, the Danaan were allotted spiritual
Ireland.
They became spirit people, inhabiting the sdhe (another name for the
Otherworld), which was associated with barrows, tumuli, mounds, hills.
This new habitat led to another name for the Danaan, aes sdhe (people of
the Sdh) or fairy people.
Some important figures emerging in Irish fairy lore are:
Leprechaun: a diminutive guardian of a hidden treasure (origin: Lughchromain little stooping Lugh)
Slua Sdhe: the fairy host who travel through the air at night, and are
known to 'take' mortals with them on their journeys.
2.5.
Poet, dramatist, mystic and public figure, W. B. Yeats (1865-1939) was born
to an Anglo-Irish Protestant family, but turned into a committed Irish
nationalist, becoming thus the primary driving force behind the Irish Literary
Revival a movement which stimulated new appreciation of traditional Irish
literature, encouraging the creation of works written in the spirit of Irish
culture, as distinct from English culture.
Yeats was also co-founder of the Abbey Theatre, another great symbol of the
literary revival, which served as the stage for many new Irish writers and
playwrights of the time.
After the establishment of the Irish Free State, Yeats was appointed to the
first Irish Senate Seanad ireann in 1922 and re-appointed in 1925.
He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1923 for what the Nobel
Committee described as "his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic
form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation".
With regard to his poetic output, this corresponds to three main phases:
The first phase is associated with the Irish Revival of the 1890s which
brought about an upsurge of interest in Celtic myth and legend. This
allowed Yeats, as well as other writers, to bring mythical motifs and
figures into their works as symbols and expressions of Irishness past
and present.
Collections:
14
Responsibilities (1914)
Yeatss later poetry is less public and more personal. The poems are
characterised by a mature lyricism, exploring contrasts between the
physical and spiritual dimensions of life, between sensuality and
rationalism, between turbulence and calm, which inform Yeatss
theories of contraries and of the progression which can result from
reconciling them.
Collections:
It is the early poems that Yeats draws heavily on Irish myth, employing
mythological figures and mythic motifs alongside with theories drawn from
occult writings (in which he was also interested.) Though dissimilar at a first
glance, the two areas bear comparison in several aspects:
Metaphysical content;
The exile, the quest, the voyage: symbols of the spirits journey from
life to death.
On the basis of these, Yeats constructs his own system of opposites, which
may be seen to inform his poetry:
15
The Sdhe
Spirit
Matter
Imagination
Reason
Eternal
Ephemeral
Immortal
Mortal
Id
Ego
Earth
Night
Day
Twilight, dawn
Dreams, visions
In The Stolen Child (a poem based on Irish legend) the faeries beguile a
child (presumably in a dream) to come away with them.
The Stolen Child
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flappy herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There weve hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
16
17
18
19
20
The daughter of an Irish diplomat Eavan Boland (1944-) spent much of her
youth living in London and New York City.
One of Ireland's few recognized women poets, Boland addresses broad
issues of Irish national identity as well as the specific issues confronting
women and mothers in a culture that has traditionally ignored their
experiences. As she herself has stated,
As an Irish woman poet I have very little precedent. There were none in
the 19th century or early part of the 20th century. You didnt have a
thriving sense of the witness of the lived life of women poets, and what
you did have was a very compelling and at time oppressive relationship
between Irish poetry and the national tradition.
In Bolands view we all [women] exist in a mesh, web, labyrinth of
associations we ourselves are constructed by the construct images are
not ornaments, they are truths.
Her collections of poems include In Her Own Image (1980), Night Feed
(1982), Outside History (1990), In a Time of Violence (1994).
She has also written a prose memoir, Object Lessons: The Life of the
Woman and the Poet in Our Time (1995).
In The Woman Turns herself Into A Fish, Boland engages directly with
Yeatss The Song of the Wondering Aengus, re-writing the mermaid image:
The Woman Turns Herself into a Fish
its done:
I turn,
I flab upward
blub-lipped,
hipless
and I am
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
21
sexless
shed
of ecstasy,
a pale
swimmer
sequin-skinned,
pealing eggs
screamlessly
in seaweed.
Its what
I set my heart on.
Yet
ruddering
and muscling
in the sunless tons
of new freedoms
still
I feel
a chill pull,
a brightening,
a light, a light
and how
in my loomy cold,
my greens
still
she moons
in me.
Task:
Choose one of the following topics to develop into a 4000-word essay of the
argumentative type:
1. The Celtic Pantheon in its Indo-European Context.
2. The World of the Sidhe with W.B. Yeats and Nuala NiDhumnaill.
3. The Dreamers Mermaid or the Mermaids Dream? (The Song of the
Wandering Aengus vs. The Woman Turns Herself Into a Fish)
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23
24
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26
It also holds Conchobar responsible for the defection of Fergus and 3000
other warriors, including his own son, Cormac, to Ulster's traditional enemy
Connacht, when he had the sons of Uisnech put to death.
THE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH
The Ulaid feasted one day in the house of Fedlimid, the chronicler of
King Conchobar, and as the feast came to an end, a girl-child was
born to the wife of Fedlimid; and a druid prophesied about her future.
[Her name is to be Deirdre. The child will grow to be a woman of
wonderful beauty and will cause enmity and trouble and will depart out
of the kingdom. Many will die on account of her.]
The Ulaid proposed to kill the child at once and so avoid the
curse. But Conchobar ordered that she be spared and reared apart,
hidden from mens eyes; and that he himself would take her for his
wife. So Deirdre was entrusted to foster-parents and was reared in a
dwelling apart. A wise woman, Leborcham, was the only other person
allowed to see her.
Once the girls foster-father was flaying a calf outside in the
snow in winter to cook it for her, and she saw a raven drinking the
blood in the snow. Then she said to Leborcham, Fair would be man
upon whom those three colours should be: his hair like the raven, and
his cheek like the blood, and his body like the snow. Grace and
prosperity to you! said leborcham. He is not far from you, inside
close by: Naoisi the son of Usnach. I shall not be well, said she,
until I see him.
Once that same Naoisi was on the rampart of the fort sounding
his cry. And sweet was the cry of the sons of Usnach. Every cow and
every beast that would hear it used to give two-thirds excess of milk.
For every man who heard it, it was enough of peace and
entertainment. Good was their valour too. Though the whole province
of the Ulaid should be around them in one place, if the three of them
stood back to back, they would not overcome them, for the excellence
of their defence. They were as swift as hounds at the hunt. They used
to kill deer by their speed.
When Naoisi was there outside, soon she went out to him, as
though to go past him, and did not recognise him. Fair is the heifer
that goes past me, said he. Heifers must grow big where there are
no bulls, said she. You have the bull of the province, said he, the
king of the Ulaid. I would choose between you, said she, and I
would take a young bull like you. No! said he. Then she sprang
toward him and caught his ears. Here are two ears of shame and
mockery, said she, unless you take me with you.
Naoisi sounded his cry, and the Ulstermen sprang up as they
heard it, and the sons of Usnach, his two brothers, went out to restrain
and warn him. But his honour was challenged. We shall go into
another country, said he. There is not a king in Ireland that will not
make us welcome. That night they set out with 150 warriors and 150
women and 150 hounds, and Deirdre was with them.
Conchobar pursued them with plots and treachery, and they fled
to Scotland. And they took service with the king of Scotland and built a
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
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Though the Brown Bull is captured and sent to Cruachain, he kills the White
Bull of Connacht but dies of exhaustion after galloping back to Ulster with his
rival on his back.
There follows a summary of this tale:
TAIN BO CUAILNGE
Once when their royal bed had been made ready for Ailill and Maeve
they conversed as they lay on the pillows. It is a true saying, girl, said
Ailill, that the wife of a good man is well off. It is true, said the girl.
Why do you say so? Because, said Ailill, you are better off today
than the day I wed you. I was well off without you, said Maeve. I
had not heard or known it, said Ailill, but that you were an heiress
and that your nearest neighbours were robbing and plundering you.
That was not so, said Maeve, for my father, Eochu Feidlech son of
Finn, was high king of Ireland. And she went on to boast of her riches,
and he of his.
Their treasures were brought before them, and it appeared that
Maeve had possessions equal to those of Ailill, save for a splendid
bull, Whitehorn, which had belonged to Maeves herd but had
wandered into the herd of Ailill because it would not remain in a
womans possession. All her wealth seemed to Maeve not worth a
penny, since she had no bull equal to that of Ailill. She learned that
there was one as good in the province of Ulster in the cantred of
Cuailnge, and she sent messengers to ask a loan of it for a year,
promising a rich reward. If the reward was not enough, she would
even grant the owner the enjoyment of her love. The messengers
returned without the bull and reported the owners refusal. There is no
need to smooth over difficulties, said Maeve, for I knew that it would
not be given freely until it was taken by force, and so it will be taken.
Maeve summoned the armies of Connacht and Cormac son of
Conchobar and Fergus son of Roech, who were in exile from Ulster at
the time, and set out to carry off the precious bull. Before the
expedition started, she consulted her druid for a prophesy. He told her
that she at least would return alive. Then she met a mysterious
prophetess who rode on the shaft of a chariot, weaving a fringe with a
gold staff, and she asked her to prophesy. The woman answered, I
see crimson upon them, I see red. Four times Maeve appealed
against this oracle, but each time the answer was the same; and the
prophetess then chanted a poem in which she foretold the deeds of
Cuchulainn.
On the first day the army advanced from Cruachan as far as Cuil
Silinni, and the tents were pitched. Ailills tent was on the right wing of
the army. The tent of Fergus was next, and beside it was the tent of
Cormac, son of Conchobar. To the left of Ailill was the tent of Maeve
and next to hers that of Findabair, her daughter. [...] Fergus was
appointed to guide the army, for the expedition was a revenge for him.
He had been King of Ulster for seven years and had gone into exile
when the sons of Usnach were killed in violation of his guaranty and
protection. And so he marched in front. But he felt a pang of longing
for Ulster and led the army astray northward and southward while he
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
29
sent warnings to the Ulstermen. But the Ulstermen had been stricken
with a mysterious sickness which afflicted them in times of danger, the
result of a curse laid upon them by Macha, a fairy whom they had
wronged. Cuchulainn and his father, Sualtam, were exempt from the
curse, and they set out to oppose the enemy. They arrived at Ard
Cuillenn, and Cuchulainn told his father to go back and warn the
Ulstermen to depart from the open plains into the woods and valleys.
He cut an oak sapling with a single stroke, and, using one arm, one
leg, and one eye, he made it into a hoop, wrote an ogam on it, and
fixed it around a stone pillar. Then he departed to keep a tryst with a
girl south of Tara.
The Connacht army reached Ard Cuillenn and saw the ogam.
Fergus interpreted it for them. Any man who advanced farther that
night, unless he made a hoop in the same way, would be slain by
Cuchulainn before morning. Ailill decided to turn aside into the forest
for the night. In the morning Cuchulainn returned from his tryst and
found the army at Turloch Caille Moire, north of Cnogba na Rig. There
he cut off the fork of a tree with a single stroke and cast it into the
earth from his chariot, so that two-thirds of the stem was buried in the
earth. He came upon two Connaught warriors and beheaded them
and their charioteers. He set their heads upon the branches of the
tree-fork and turned their horses back toward the camp, the chariots
bearing the headless bodies of the men. [. . . ]
The Man who did this deed, Fergus said, is Cuchulainn. It is he
who struck the branch from its base with a single stroke, and killed the
four as swiftly as they were killed, and who came to the border with
only his charioteer.
What sort of man, Aillil said, is this Hound of Ulster we hear
tell of? How old is this remarkable person?
It is soon told, Fergus said. In his fifth year he went to study
the arts and the crafts of War with Scathach, and courted Emer. In his
eight year he took up the arms. At present he is in his seventeenth
year.
Is he the hardest they have in Ulster? Maeve said.
Yes, the hardest of all, Fergus said. Youll find no harder
warrior against you - no point more sharp, more swift, more slashing;
no raven more flesh-ravenous, no hand more daft, no fighter more
fierce, no one of his own age one third as good, no lion more
ferocious; no barrier in battle, no hard hammer, no gate of battle, no
soldiers doom, no hinderer of hosts, more fine. Youll find no one
there to measure him - for youth or vigour, for apparel, horror or
eloquence; for splendour, fame or form, for voice or strength or
sternness, for cleverness, courage or blows in battle; for fire or gury,
victory, doom, or turmoil; for stalking, scheming or slaughter in the
hunt; for swiftness, alertness or wilderness; and no one with the battlefeat nine men on each point - none like Cuchulainn.
On the next day the army moved eastward, and Cuchulainn went
to meet them. He surprised Orlam son of Ailill and Maeve and killed
him, and the next day he killed three more with their charioteers. The
army advanced and devastated the plains of Bregia and Muirthemne,
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
30
31
defeated the last battalion, and of his chariot there remained a few ribs
of the body and a few spokes of the wheels.
Meanwhile, Maeve had sent the Brown Bull of Cuailnge to
Cruachan, so that he at least should come there, whoever else might
fail to come. Then she appealed the Cuchulainn to spare her army
until it should go westward past Ath Mor, and he consented. [. . .]
When the Brown Bull came to Cruachan, he uttered three mighty
bellows, and the Whitehorned Bull heard that and came to fight him.
All who had returned from the battle came to watch the bull-fight. They
watched until night fell, and when night fell they could only listen to the
great noise of the fight. The bulls travelled all over Ireland during the
night, and in the morning the Brown Bull was seen going past
Cruachan with the Whitehorned Bull on his horns. He galloped back to
Ulster, scattering fragments of the dead bulls flesh from his horns on
the way, and when he came to the border of Cuailnge, his heart broke,
and he died.
Summary by Myles Dillon
3.5.1.2.
3.5.1.3.
3.5.1.4.
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3.5.1.5.
33
youth he killed was his own son, Cuchulain dies fighting the waves, mistaken
their foam for Conchobars crown.
A Blind Man and a Fool act as chorus, framing the main action of the play.
ON BAILES STRAND (1901, P.1904)
FOOL: What a clever man you are though you are blind! Theres
nobody with two eyes in his head that is as clever as you are. Who
but you could have though that the henwife sleeps every day a
little at noon? I would never be able to steal anything if you didnt
tell me where to look for it. And what a good cook you are! You
take the fowl out of my hands after I have stolen it and plucked it,
and you put it into the big pot at the fire there, and I can go out
and run races with the witches at the edge of the waves and get
an appetite, and when Ive got it, theres the hen waiting inside for
me, done to the turn.
BLIND MAN [who is feeling about with his stick]: Done to the turn.
FOOL [putting his arm round Blind Mans neck]: Come now, Ill have a
leg and youll have a leg, and well draw lots for the wish-bone. Ill
be praising you while youre eating it, for your good plans and for
your good cooking. Theres nobody in the world like you, Blind
Man. Come, come. Wait a minute. O shouldnt have closed the
door. There are some that look for me, and I wouldnt like them not
to find me. Boann herself out of the river and Fand out of the deep
sea. Witches they are, and they come by in the wind, and they cry,
Give a kiss, Fool, give a kiss, thats what they cry. Thats wide
enough. All the witches can come in now. I wouldnt have them
beat at the door and say, Where is the Fool? Why has he put a
lock on the door? Maybe theyll hear the bubbling of the pot and
come in and sit on the ground. But we wont give them any of the
fowl. Let them go back to the sea, let them go back to the sea.
BLIND MAN [feeling legs of big chair with his hand] Ah! [Then, in a
louder voice as he feels the back of it]. Ah - ah FOOL: Why do you say Ah - ah?
BLIND MAN: I know the big chair. It is to-day the High King Conchubar
is coming. They have brought out this chair. He is going to be
Cuchulains master in earnest from this day out. It is that hes
coming for.
FOOL: He must be a great man to be Cuchulains master.
BLIND MAN: So he is. He is a great man. He is over all the rest of the
kings of Ireland.
FOOL: Cuchulains master! I thought Cuchulain could do anything he
liked.
BLIND MAN: So he did, so he did. But he ran too wild, and Conchubar
is coming to-day to put an oath upon him that will stop his
rambling and make him as biddable as a housedog and keep him
always at his hand. He will sit in this chair and put the oath upon
him.
FOOL: How will he do that?
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
34
BLIND MAN: You have no wits to understand such things. [The Blind
Man has got into the chair]. He will sit up in this chair and hell say:
Take the oath, Cuchulain. I bid you take the oath. Do as I tell you.
What are your wits compared with mine, and what are your riches
compared with mine? And what sons have you to pay your debts
and to put a stone over you when you die? Take the oath, I tell
you. Take a strong oath.
FOOL [crumpling himself up and whining]: I will not. Ill take no oath. I
want my dinner.
BLIND MAN: Hush, hush! It is not done yet.
FOOL: You said it was done to a turn.
BLIND MAN: Did I, now? Well, it might be done, and not done. The
wings might be white, but the legs might be red. The flesh might
stick hard to the bones and not come away in the teeth. But,
believe me, Fool, it will be well done before you put your teeth in it.
FOOL: My teeth are growing long with the hunger.
BLIND MAN: Ill tell you a story - the kings have story-tellers while they
are waiting for their dinner - I will tell you a story with a fight in it, a
story with a champion in it, and a ship and a queens son that has
his mind set on killing somebody that you and I know.
FOOL: Who is that? Who is he coming to kill?
BLIND MAN: Wait, now, till you hear. When you were stealing the
fowl, I was lying in a hole in the sand, and I heard three men
coming with a shuffling sort of noise. They were wounded and
groaning.
FOOL: Go on. Tell me about the fight.
BLIND MAN: There had been a fight, a great fight, a tremendous great
fight. A youg man had landed on the shore, the guardians of the
shore had asked his name, and he had refused to tell it, and he
had killed one, and others had run away.
FOOL: Thats enough. Come on now to the fowl. I wish it was bigger. I
wish it was as big as a goose.
BLIND MAN: Hush! I havent told you all. I know who that young man
is. I heard the men who were running away say he had red hair,
that he had come from Aoifes country, that he was going to kill
Cuchulain.
35
II.
CUCHULAIN: Because I have killed men without your bidding
And have rewarded others at my own leisure,
Because of half a score of trifling thing,
Youd lay this oath upon me , and now - and now
you add another pebble to the heap, And I must be your man, wellnigh your bondsman,
Because a youngster out of Aoifes country
Has found the shore ill-guarded.
CONCHUBAR: He came to land
While you were somewhere out of sight and hearing,
Hunting or dancing with your wild companions.
CUCHULAIN: He can be driven out. Ill not be bound.
Ill dance or hunt, or quarrel or make love,
Wherever and whenever Ive a mind to.
If time had not put water in your blood,
You never would have thought it.
CONCHUBAR:
I would leave
A strong and settle country to my children.
CUCHULAIN: And I must be obedient in all things;
Give up my will to yours; go where you please;
Come when you call; sit at the council board
Among the unshapely bodies of old men;
I whose mere name has kept this country safe,
I that in early days have driven out
Maeve of Cruachan and the northern pirates,
The hundred kings of Sorcha, and the kings
Out of the Garden in the East of the World.
Must I, that held you on the throne when all
Had pulled you from it, swear obedience
As if I were some cattle-raising king?
Are my shins specked with the heat of the fire,
Or have my hands not skill but to make figures
Upon the ashes with a stick? Am I
So slack and idle and I need a whip
Before I serve you?
CONCHUBAR: No, no whip, Cuchulain,
But every day my children come and say:
This man is growing harder to endure.
How can we be at safety with this man
That nobody can buy or bid or bind?
We shall be at his mercy when you are gone;
He burns the earth as if he were a fire,
And time can never touch him.
CUCHULAIN:
And so the tale
Grows finer yet; and I am to obey
Whatever child you set upon the throne,
As if it were yourself!
CONCHUBAR:
Most certainly.
I am High King, my son shall be High King;
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37
38
Task
Choose from one of the following topics to develop into a 4000-word essay of
the argumentative type:
1. Tain Bo Cualgne and the Celtic Framework.
2. Constructing and De-constructing Mythic Heroism: representations
of Cuchulain in Tain Bo Cualgne , W. B. Yeatss Cuchulain plays
and Nuala NiDhumnaills Chuchulain I.
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40
4.1.
The Fionn Cycle contains a group of tales developed in Munster and Leinster
and dating to the 3rd century A.D.
Most stories centre on the exploits of the mythical hero Fionn mac Cumhaill,
his son Oisn, and other famous members of the fian (warrior-band) of Fionn,
collectively known as the Fianna, who hunt, fight, conduct raids, and live an
open-air nomadic life.
This set of literary conventions reflects a feature of early Irish society in that
such bands of warriors did live outside the structures of that society while
retaining links with it.
Another characteristic is its frequent celebration of the beauty of nature,
evoked in vivid language.
41
Hundreds of years after Finn and his companions had died, Saint
Patrick came to Ireland bringing the Christian religion with him. He had
heard many stories about the adventures of the Fianna and he was
interested in these old heroes whom the people spoke about as if they
were gods. Their story was written into the very landscape of Ireland;
hills and woods resounded with their legends, rivers and valleys bore
their names, dozens marked their graves.
One day a feeble, blind old man was brought to Patrick. His
body was weak and wasted but his spirit was strong. Patrick preached
the new doctrines to him but the old warrior scorned the newcomers
and their rituals and in defiant response sand the praises of the
Fianna, their code of honour and their way of life. He said he was
Oisin, the son of Finn himself. Patrick doubted the old mans word
since Finn had been dead for longer than the span of any human life.
So to convince the saint that his claim was true, Oisin, last of the
Fianna, told his story.
After the battle of Gowra, the last battle the Fianna fought,
Oisin, Finn and a handful of survivors went south to Lough Lene in
Kerry, a favourite haunt of theirs in happier times. They were dispirited
because they knew their day was over. They had all fought many
battles in their time, but this last battle had brought them total defeat
and bitter losses. Many of their companions had been killed at Gowra,
among them the bravest warrior of the Fianna, Oisins own son,
Oscar. When Finn, the baule-hardened old veteran, had seen his
favourite grandson lying dead on the field, he had turned his back to
his troops and wept. Only once before had the Fianna seen their
leader cry and that was at the death of his staghound Bran.
Around Lough Lene the woods were fresh and green and the
early mists of a May morning were beginning to lift when Finn and his
followers set out with their dogs to hunt. The beauty of the countryside
and the prospect of the chase revived their spirits a little as they
followed the hounds through the woods. Suddenly a young hornless
deer broke cover and bounded through the forest with the dogs in full
cry at its heels. The Fianna followed them, rejuvenated by the familiar
excitement of the chase.
They were stopped in their tracks by the sight of a lovely young
woman galloping towards them on a supple, nimble white horse. She
was so beautiful she seemed like a vision. She wore a crown and her
hair hung in shining, golden loops down over her shoulders. Her long,
lustrous cloak, glinting with gold-embroidered stars, hung down over
the silk trapping of her horse. Her eyes were as clear and blue as the
May sky above the forest and they sparkled like dew on the morning
grass. Her skin glowed white and pink and her mouth seemed as
sweet as honeyed wine. Her horse was saddled and shod with gold
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
42
and there was a silver wreath around his head. No one had seen a
better animal.
The woman reined in her horse and came up to where Finn
stood, moon-struck and silent. Ive travelled a great distance to find
you, she said, and Finn found his voice.
Who are you and where have you come from? he asked. Tell
us your name and the name of your kingdom.
I am called Niamh of the Golden Hair and my father is the king
of Tir na n-Og, the Land of Youth, the girl replied.
Then tell us, Princess Niamh, why have you left a country like
that and crossed the sea to come to us? Has your husband forsaken
you or has some other tragedy brought you here?
My husband didnt leave me, she answered, for Ive never
had a husband. Many men in my own country wanted to marry me, but
I wouldnt look at any of them because I loved your son.
Finn started in surprise. You love one of my sons? Which of
my sons do you love, Niamh? And tell me why your mind settled on
him? he asked.
Oisin is the champion Im talking about, replied Niamh.
Reports of his handsome looks and sweet nature reached as far as
the Land of Youth. So I decided to come and find him.
Oisin had been silent all this time, dazzled by the beautiful girl
and when he heard her name him as the man she loved he trembled
from head to toe. But he recovered himself and went over to the
princess and took her hand in his. You are the most beautiful woman
in the world and I would choose you above all others. I will gladly
marry you!
Come away with me, Oisin! Niamh whispered. Come back
with me to the Land of Youth. It is the most beautiful country under the
sun. You will never fall ill or grow old there. In my country you will
never die. Trees grow tall there and treed bend low with fruit. The land
thaws with honey and wine, as much as you could ever want. In Tir na
n-Og you will sit at feasts and games with plenty of music for you,
plenty of wine. You will get gold and jewels, more than you could
imagine. And a hundred swords, a hundred silk tunics, a hundred swift
bay horses, a hundred keen hunting dogs. The King of the Ever Young
will place a crown on your head, a crown that he has never given to
anyone else, and it will protect you from every danger. You will get a
hundred cows, a hundred calves, and a hundred sheep with golden
wool. You will get a hundred of the most beautiful jewels youve ever
seen and a hundred arrows. A hundred young women will sing to you
and a hundred of the bravest, young warriors will obey your command.
As well as all of this, you will get beauty, strength and power. And me
for your wife.
Oh, Niamh, I could never refuse you anything you ask and I
will gladly go with you to the Land of Youth! Oisin cried and he
jumped up on the horse behind her. With Niamh cradled between his
arms he took the reins in his hands and the horse started forwards.
Go slowly, Oisin, till we reach the shore! Niamh said.
When Finn saw his son being borne away from him, he let out
three loud, sorrowful shots. Oh, Oisin, my son, he cried out, why are
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
43
you leaving me? I will never see you again. Youre leaving me here
heartbroken for I know well never meet again!
Oisin stopped and embraced his father and said goodbye to all
his friends. With tears streaming down his face he took a last look at
them as they stood on the shore. He saw the defeat and sorrow on his
fathers face and the sadness of his friends. He remembered his days
together with them all in the excitement of the hunt and the heat of
battle. Then the white horse shook its mane, gave three shrill neighs
and leapt forward, plunging into the sea. The waves opened before
Niamh and Oisin and dosed behind them as they passed.
As they travelled across the sea, wonderful sight appeared to
them on every side. They passed cities, courts and castles, whitewashed bawns and forts, painted summerhouses and stately palaces.
A young fawn rushed past, a white dog with scarlet ears racing after it.
A beautiful young woman on a bay horse galloped by on the crests of
the waves, carrying a golden apple in her right hand. Behind her,
mounted on a white horse, rode a young prince, handsome and richly
dressed with a gold-bladed sword in his hand. Oisin looked in awe at
this handsome couple but when he asked Niamh who they were, she
replied that they were insignificant compared to the inhabitants of the
Land of Youth.
Ahead of them and visible from afar, a shining palace came into
view. Its delicate, marble facade shone in the sun.
Thats the most beautiful palace I have ever see! Oisin
exclaimed. What country are we in now and who is the king?
This is the Land of Virtue and that is the palace of Fomor, a
giant, Niamh replied. The daughter of the king of the Land of Life is
the queen. She was abducted from her own country by Fomor and he
keeps her a prisoner here. She has put a geis on him that he may not
marry her until a champion has challenged him to single combat. But a
prisoner she remains for no one wants to fight the giant.
Niamh, the story youve told me is sad, even though your voice
is music in my ears, Oisin said. Ill go to the fortress and try to
overcome the giant and set the queen free.
They turned the horse towards the white palace and when they
arrived there they were welcomed by a woman almost as beautiful as
Niamh herself. She brought them to a room where thy sat on golden
chairs and ate and drank of the best. When the feast was over, the
queen told the story of her captivity and as tears coursed down her
cheeks she told them that until the giant was overcome she could
never return home.
Dry your eyes, Oisin told her. Ill challenge the giant. Im not
afraid of him! Either Ill kill him or Ill fight till he kills me.
At that moment Fomor approached the castle. He was huge
and ugly and he carried a load of deerskins on his back and an iron
bar in his hand. He saw Oisin and Niamh but did not acknowledge
their presence. He looked into the face of his prisoner and straight
away he knew that she had told her story to the visitors. With a loud,
angry shout he challenged Oisin to fight. For three days and three
nights they struggled and fought but, as powerful as Fomor was, Oisin
overpowered him in the end and cut off his head. The two women
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
44
gave three triumphant cheers when they saw the giant felled. When
they saw that Oisin was badly injured and too exhausted to walk
unaided, they took him gently between them and helped him back to
the fortress. The queen put ointments and herbs on his wounds and in
a very short time Oisin had recovered his health and spirits. They
buried the giant and raised his flag over the grave and caned his name
in ogham script in stone. Then they feasted till they were full and slept
till dawn in the feather beds that were prepared for them.
The morning sun awoke them and Niamh told Oisin they must
continue on their journey to Tir na n-Og. The queen of the Land of
Virtue was sad to see them go, and indeed they were sad to leave her,
but she was free now to return home, so they said goodbye to her and
that was the last they saw of her. They mounted the white horse and
he galloped away as boisterously as a March wind roaring across a
mountain summit.
Suddenly the sky darkened, the wind rose and the sea was lit
up by angry flashes of light. Niamh and Oisin rode steadily through the
tempest, looking up at the pillars of clouds blotting out the sun until the
wind dropped and the storm died down. Then, ahead of them, they
saw the most delightful country, bathed in sunshine, spread out in all
its splendour. Set amid the smooth rich plains was a majestic fortress
that shone like a prism in the sun. Surrounding it were airy halls and
summerhouses built with great artistry and inlaid with precious stones.
As Niamh and Oisin approached the fortress a troop of a hundred of
the most famous champions came out to meet them.
This land is the most beautiful place I have ever see! Oisin
exclaimed. Have we arrived at the Land of Youth?
Indeed we have. This is Tir na n_og, Niamh replied. I told you
the truth when I told you how beautiful it was. Everything I promised
you, you will receive.
As Niamh spoke a hundred beautiful young women came to
meet them, dressed in silk and heavy gold brocade, and they
welcomed the couple to Tir na n-Og. A huge glittering crowd then
approached with the king and queen at their head. When Oisin and
Niamh met the royal party, the king took Oisin by the hand and
welcomed him. Then he turned towards the crowd and said. This is
Oisin, Finns son, who is to be married to my beloved daughter, Niamh
of the Golden Hair. He turned to Oisin. Youre welcome to this happy
country, Oisin! Here you will have a long and happy life and you will
never grow old. Everything you ever dreamt of is waiting for you here.
I promise you that all I say is true for I am the king of Tir na n-Og. This
is my queen and this is my daughter Niamh, the Golden-haired, who
crossed the sea to find you and bring you back here so that you could
be together for ever.
Oisin thanked the king and queen and a wedding feast was
prepared for Oisin and Niamh. The festivities lasted for ten days and
ten nights.
Niamh and Oisin lived happily in the Land of Youth and had
three children. Niamh named the boys Finn and Oscar after Oisins
father and son. Oisin gave his daughter a name that suited her loving
nature and her lovely face; he named her Plur na mBan, the Flower of
Women.
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
45
46
Accounts of Fionns death vary, but in folk tradition he is still alive (sleeping in
a cave), ready to help Ireland in times of need.
The cycle has been Christianized, and some stories present the meeting of
Osin and other survivors of the Fianna with St. Patrick, the warriors
lamenting the abeyance of heroic conduct in Christian Ireland.
4. 4. 1. Ossianism
The Scott James MacPherson is among the first to have revived the figure
of Oisin under the guise of Ossian, an ancient Caledonian bard, whose
poems he claimed to have discovered and then translated into English with
the publication of:
47
Temora (1763)
Ossianism had a massive cultural impact during the 18th and 19th centuries.
Napoleon carried a copy into battle; Goethe translated parts of it, and one of
Ingres' most romantic and moody paintings, the Dream of Ossian was based
on it.
48
It further relates to Fionn mac Cumhaill who, having passed away (Macool,
Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie?), will inevitably return (Mister Finn, youre
going to be Mister Finnagain!
Its structure is governed by Giambattista Vicos division of human history into
three ages (divine, heroic, and human), to which Joyce added a section
called the Ricorso, emphasizing the Neapolitan philosophers cyclical
conception.
49
Issy (Daughter)
50
short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the
humptyhillhead of himself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the
west quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepoindandplace is
at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon
the green since devlinsfirst loved livvy.
[. . .]
A way a lone a last a loved a long the
Task
Consider one of the following topics to develop into a full-length essay:
1. Celtic Connections: from the Finn to the Arthurian cycle of tales.
2. Irish Heroes in Joycean Metamorphosis: Fion MacCumhail, Tim
Finnegan and Finnegans Wake
51
52
5.1.1.
The most famous tale in the cycle is Buile Suibhne, which recounts the
tribulations of the Mad King Sweeney.
Suibne, originally a vigorous ruler and a great warrior, is drive mad by the
sound of battle, as consequence of a curse imposed on him by a cleric
named Rnn. He takes to the wilderness, where he spends may years
naked or very sparsely clothed, living in tree-tops, bemoaning his fate, and
celebrating nature in haunting lyrical verse. Finally, having travelled much of
Ireland, he arrives at a small religious community, where St. Moling
welcomes him and, after Suibne is killed by one of the servants, buries the
madman in consecrated ground.
BUILE SUIBHNE
[THE MADNESS/FRENZY OF SWEENEY]
Suibhne son of Colman was king of Dal nAraide. One day St. Ronan
was marking the boundaries of a church in that country, and Suibhne
heard the sound of his bell. Then his people told him that the saint was
establishing a church in his territory, he set out in anger to expel the
cleric. His wife Eorann sought to restrain him and caught the border of
his cloak, but he rushed naked from the house, leaving the cloak in
her hands. Ronan was chanting the Office when Suibhne came up,
and the king seized the psalter and threw it into the lake. He then laid
hands on the saint and was dragging him away, when a messenger
arrived from Congal Claen to summon him to the battle of Moira.
Suibhne departed with the messenger, leaving Ronan sorrowful. Next
day an otter from the lake restored the psalter to the saint unharmed.
Ronan gave thanks to God and cursed the king, wishing that he might
wander naked through the world as he had come naked into his
presence.
Ronan went to Moira to make peace between Domnall and Congal
Claen, but without success. He and his clerics sprinkled holy water on
the armies, but when they sprinkled in on Suibhne, he slew one of the
clerics with a spear and made a second cast at Ronan himself. The
second spear broke against the saints bell, and the shaft flew into the
air. Ronan cursed Suibhne, wishing that he might fly through the air
like the shaft of his spear and that he might die of a spar cast like the
cleric whom he had slain.
The Celtic Paradigm in Modern Irish Writing
53
Thereafter, when the battle was joined, the armies on both sides
raised three mighty shouts. Suibhne was terrified by the clamour. His
weapons fell from his hands. He was seized with trembling and fled in
a frenzy like a bird of the air. His feet rarely touched the ground in his
flight, and at last he settled upon a yew tree far from the battle field.
There he was discovered by a kinsman, Aongus the Fat, who had fled
the field after the victory of Domnall. Aongus sought to persuade
Suibhne to join him, but Suibhne flew away like a bird and came to Tir
Conaill, where he perched on a tree near the church called Cill
Riagain. It happened that the victorious army of Domnall had
encamped there after the battle. Domnall recognised him and
lamented his misfortune.
Suibhne fled again and was for a long time travelling through
Ireland till he came to Glenn Bolcain. It was there that the madmen
used to abide when their year of frenzy was over, for that valley is
always a place of great delight to madmen. Glenn Bolcain has four
gaps to the wind and a lovely fragrant wood and clean-bordered wells
and cool springs, and a sandy stream of clear water with green cress
and long waving brooklime on its surface.
For seven years, Suibhne wandered throughout Ireland, and then he
returned to Glenn Bolcain. There Loingsechan came to seek him and
found the footprints of Suibhne near the river where he came to eat
watercress, He slept one night in a hut and Suibhne came near and
heard him snore. And he uttered a lay:
The man by the wall snores: I dare not sleep like that. For seven
years since that Tuesday at Moira I have not slept for a moment. [.
. .]
The cress of the well of Druim Cirb is my meal at terce. My face
betrays it. Truly I am Suibhne the Madman. [. . .]
Though I live from hill to hill on the mountain above the valley of
yews, alas! That I was not left to lie with Congal Claen. [. . .]
Green cress and a drink of clear water is my fare. I do not smile.
This is not the fate of the man by the wall. [. . .]
54
55
56
5.3.
5.3.1.
Brian ONolan is best known for his novels An Bal Bocht, At Swim-TwoBirds and The Third Policeman written under the nom de plume Flann
O'Brien.
He also wrote many satirical columns in the Irish Times under the name
Myles na gCopaleen.
Other pseudonyms he used were: John James Doe, George Knowall,
Brother Barnabas, and the Great Count O'Blather.
57
58
59
5.3.2.
North (1975)
Heaney's work is often set in rural Londonderry, the county of his childhood.
Hints of sectarian violence can be found in many of his poems, even works
that on the surface appear to deal with something else. Like the Troubles
themselves, Heaney's work is deeply associated with the lessons of history,
sometimes even prehistory.
Under the influence of P.V. Globs The Bog People which dealt with the
discovery of well-preserved Iron Age bodies in the Danish bogs, many of
which seemed to have been ritually sacrificed to earth deities, Heaney
evolved the bog myth to distance the sectarian killings in modern Ulster
through their analogues of 2000 years ago.
In Punishment, for example, the body of a young Danish woman accused
of adultery and sacrificed to the land in an ancient fertility ritual prompts him
meditate on tribal revenge and justice, finding its modern counterpart in the
shaved and tarred heads of young Irish women humiliated by the I.R.A. for
fraternizing with British soldiers.
PUNISHMENT (from North, 1975)
I can feel the tug
of the halter at the nape
of her neck, the wind
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60
61
62
63
Task
Consider one of the following topics to develop into a full-length critical
essay:
64
Minimal Bibliography:
1.
Berresford-Ellis,
Peter,
DICTIONARY
OF
CELTIC
Crotty,
Patrick
(ed.)
MODERN
IRISH
POETRY.
AN
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
65