The Joys of Local Journalism (or How I Discovered I Was Heir to the Throne of Camelot)

Local Man Arthur O'Neill

I mentioned a while back that I’d recently found a new job. Well I haven’t lost it yet, I’m glad to report. It’s up at my local newspaper, where I’ve worked on and off over the years. I love where I live and I love being a journalist so it’s pretty much perfect really. Especially when you get stories like the one I wrote last week; the one where I found out that not only was King Arthur actually an honest-to-god real-life person, but he was from Inishowen!  And there’s more - it turns out there’s even a chance I’m descended from him. You could be too! Seriously folks, the King Arthur.

Let me explain. According to new research by English historian Dane Pestano, Arthurian legend may very well have originated from a historical sixth-century High King of Ireland. Said king being Muircertach MacErca, who ruled from An Grianan and was the great-grandson of Niall of the Nine Hostages. For any of you  not familiar with him, Niall was a legendary Ulster king who was apparently quite the ladies’ man. Genetic studies have found that around 20% of males in the north of Ireland and south-west Scotland carry his Y-chromosome and it’s believed up to six million people in the world today could be descended from him. As I said, he must’ve got around a bit.

An Grianan- the original Camelot?

That means there’s probably a fair chunk of the population round these parts who are related to MacErca too. Until recently not much was known about him, but a few years back Mr Pestano uncovered a lost tale in an old manuscript which led him on his Arthurian adventure. In his short book, Dane explains how the life MacErca, who also ruled from Grianan, almost exactly mirrors that of the man the Welsh and Britons knew as Arthur. Drawing upon both historical record and old folktales, here are just some of the links he identifies:

• MacErca was supposedly the first Christian king of Ireland and ruled at the same time as the mythical Arthur;
• His name can be translated as ‘Arthur’ and his wife’s name mirrors that of Gwenevere when translated into Welsh;
• As a child he was fostered by a driud;
• He conquered Gaul and assumed sovereignty of Britain, The Saxons, Scotland, The Orkneys, and Denmark;
• He was in possession of the Lia Fáil (the Stone of Destiny);
• There was a Merlin-type character, the bishop Cairneach, who guided him in his conquests and who could apparently perform magical feats;
• The idea of Morgan LeFey may also have originated here since there is one folktale which tells of a fairy woman who tried to seduce then murder MacErca;
• Finally, according to legend MacErca succumbed to the symbolic ‘triple death’.

MacErca was also the grandson of Eoghan, whom Inishowen is named after, and he was the uncle of another famous local lad, St Colmcille (aka St Columba), who had the gift of prophecy and was a bit of an Irish Nostradamus.  I think the Glastonbury tourist board are going to have to review their brochures because if MacErca is indeed Arthur then his links to this area are incredible. When I was chatting to Dane on the phone about his work he said that Bettina over at Guarding Grianan Aileach may even have discovered the actual Round Table at the ring fort. How cool is that!

I think by now you lot know how much I love history and folklore, especially anything to do with Grianan, so you can imagine how excited I was about this story. I’m such a geek I was as thrilled working on it as someone else might’ve been if they’d gotten to interview their favourite actor or singer or something. Niall and Arthur are like celebrities to me :) 

 I think everyone at the paper thinks I’m a wee bit loopy for getting so excited about it, but I’m not just saying this - I think it’s the most fun I’ve ever had writing a story.  I even discovered a new favourite word, toppling ‘troglodyte’ from it’s long-held first place spot. It’s ‘Galfridian’, as in ‘pre-Galfridian’ meaning ‘existing before Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote his famous twelfth century work on Arthur’.  Nice, isn’t it? The stories about MacErca are pre-Galfridian.

Dane’s introductory book, ‘King Arthur in Irish Pseudo-Historical Tradition’, is available to download or order here. It’ll soon be on Amazon etc too and I’ll add those links as soon as I get them. He plans to publish a full edition next year so watch this space.

The Fort on the Hollow Hill

High atop the royal hill of Aileach, at the gateway to my own fair Inishowen, sits the fort of An Grianan. It is a place of myth and magic, cutting through the mists of time to transport receptive visitors to an otherworldly age… And to hell with how cheesy that sounds; it’s only cliched ‘cause it’s true, goddamit!

In fact, Grianan is so steeped in legend and history that I’ve been putting off this post ever since I started blogging.  The only reason I’m writing it now is because I said I would the other day. Why so reluctant? Because there’s so bloody much to say about the place! 

How could I describe to you just how utterly amazing it is without telling absolutely everything about it? And how could I do that without boring the arse off everyone bar those with a very particular interest in pre-Celtic Irish monuments?  (Or those from Donegal, who’d probably already know everything I had to say anyway.)

So I’ve decided I’m not going to - describe each myth and chronological event associated with the fort right up to the present day, that is. Besides, there’s already a wonderful website and blog dedicated to doing just that, hosted by a lovely German girl I know named Bettina Linke. Ever since Bettina moved to the area many years ago she’s committed herself to the promotion and protection of An Grianan with unparalleled passion.  With a book on the way, she’s now even set herself to translating Old Irish poetry about the site in her spare time. That’s dedication for you!

Anyhow, instead of getting bogged down in the details, which is what happened each time I sat down to write this post over the past couple of days, I’m just going to run quickly through the facts and move swiftly on to the folk tales. Those of you still interested in finding out more afterwards can then call over and pay Bettina a wee visit.  I’ll try my best to keep this as succinct as possible, though be warned - I do tend to drift when it comes to subjects I care about. Right, let us begin…

More important than Tara- FACT.

To sum it up in a sentence, An Grianan of Aileach is an iron age ringfort, built on the remnants of a much earlier fortification (thought to be up to 5000-years-old, in your face Pyramids!), with the current stone structure undergoing heavy restoration in the nineteenth-century following it’s destruction during a conflict between two Irish chieftains in 1101. Phew! That was a long sentence. But the place does have a long history, and an important one at that.

Indeed, it is my guess that if it wasn’t for its geographical location Grianan would likely be as famous as Newgrange, and undoubtedly more well-known than Tara. For, just like that other royal hill - and that’s all it is these days, a hill, with hardly any visible fort worth talking about - Aileach too was seat to the High Kings of Ireland at various points over the centuries, and for an even longer period served as the centre of power and culture for all Ulster. (And we still have our fort intact.)

It is also interesting to note that while Grianan shares good company with other sites of high mythological and historical regard, such as Emain Macha, in that it is one of only a handful of Irish locations to be marked on Ptolemy’s 4th century map of the world, Tara gets no mention on the famous document. Mmm…

As I said, the reason most of you have probably never heard of it till now is down to where it is. For one it’s relatively far away from the major airports, and secondly it’s also only a few miles from the border with Northern Ireland,  which meant the area was shunned for decades by foreign tourists afraid of getting blown-up. (Kind of silly really considering the chances of getting blown-up in Donegal were so miniscule it was ridiculous.)

Anyway, enough about all that ‘real’ stuff, I want to talk about the stories!  

Built by the king of the fairies, no less.

As I’ve said, it would be easy for me to ramble on and on about the ‘true’ history of Grianan, which in itself is pretty darn interesting,  but it’s always been the myths and legends surrounding the place which have captured my imagination. And there’s certainly no shortage of them.

The word ‘Grianan’ comes from the Irish word for ‘sun’ and one thing that is agreed upon by archaeologists is that the original structure was most likely built by pagan sun worshipers. That’s fair enough, but it’s who these sun worshipers were that’s most intriguing; ask anyone round here and you’ll only get one answer - An Tuatha De Danann. The Children of Danu themselves.

Now I think I know you, my dear blog readers, well enough at this point to assume that most of you are already well acquainted with this mystical race, and their gods and leaders. Many of you will probably also be aware that they were, in fact, the descendents of Ireland’s fairy aristocracy. (Those who aren’t as familiar with this can find a wee bit more about it in my introductory blog post, and then of course there’s always Google.)

Anyway! One of the most famous tales regarding the origins of Grianan states that it was built by no less than Daghda himself, High King of the Tuatha De Danann who later achieved godly status. The story goes that, following their invasion of Ireland in pre-Celtic times, it was at the hill of Aileach that the Tuatha De Danann first made contact with the natives of their new land. They must’ve liked the spot, or it must’ve already been an area of some significance, for when Daghda’s own son, Aeah, was slew in battle it was here that the god king buried him and built the fort to protect the grave.

Other tales also hint that Daghda’s predecessor,  Nuada of the Silver Hand,  may also be interred beneath the mound.  Indeed, it is what is under the fort rather than the stones themselves that hold the deepest magic and mystery.

Take the little portal pictured below for example, one of several in the interior wall. When we were little the gates weren’t there and we used to crawl inside. My mum used to go crazy at us, though claustrophobia usually got the better of me before I ventured far enough to make her really mad. Now that they’ve been sealed off to curious children and I’ve grown much too large, I often wonder what I would’ve discovered if I’d been a little braver.

You see another of the local legends of Grianan, and one which is inextricably tied to Irish fairy mythology in general, tells of an extensive network of tunnels that run from these little holes in the wall deep down into the hill. Within there is believed to be a hollow where a band of Tuatha de Danann horsemen still slumber, waiting for the day when “the sacred sword” is removed and they can awake to reclaim their ancient lands.

A more detailed account of this tale can be found here on Bettina’s blog, though as a child I always heard the Irish nationalist version in which the sword was British rule and those inside would only wake once Ireland was united again. Considering Ireland as a whole entity has for the most part only ever been united while under British rule, you’ll have to forgive me if I declare this to be bollocks. ‘Ireland’ of the past was an island of five provinces, those again divided into kingdoms, and not one unified state in the modern sense. But once again I digress…

As you might imagine from it’s name, An Grianan is also associated with other ancient Irish sun dieties such as Lugh and Gráinne, though I’m not going to talk about them now. A little tale I will relate is one from my dad, who often tells of how after a night out partying in his younger days he and a friend decided to go up to Grianan to watch the sun rise. Now it’s very likely considering the context of the story that what he saw may've been in some way influenced from the previous night’s indulgences, but he swears that from his position atop the stone walls he saw the sun dancing in the sky - looping and diving, jumping forward and falling back. In fact, to this day he finds it hard to describe his experiences of that morning exactly. And I’ve heard others tell similar stories so there must be something in it.

Well my friends, you’ll be happy to hear that I’ve finally exhausted myself and have to decided to wrap this thing up now. God, this was a post and a half! Believe me when I tell you I could’ve written twice as much. Anyway, thanks to anyone who stuck with me to the end and sorry for rambling on so much. I just want Grianan to get the recognition it deserves for being so super amazingly awesome. 

I suppose every little corner of the world hides it’s own treasures, and we all like to defend our own wee plots. What about you folk, do any of you have any little under-appreciated gems nearby? I’d love to hear about them!

Folk Tales and Fairy Art

'Between Two Worlds' by Eimear Brennan 

It’s just occurred to me that I’ve spent three out of my past five posts blogging about how I’ve not been blogging.  Sorry about that - next time just tell me to shut up, go away and come back when I’ve got something better to say.  Anyhow, I hope the treat I have in store for you today will make up for my recent boring transgressions.

You see, my friends, I think I’ve found my new favourite blog. It’s only very new, a wee baby blog really, but I’m already hooked.  The creation of Dublin artist Eimear Brennan, the ever so aptly named Drawn to Fairytales is definitely one for the bookmarks folder. A veritable treasure trove of fantasy art and mythology, Ms Brennan’s site is more than just somewhere to view her wonderful work. It is a little glimpse into Fairyland itself.

With each of picture posted we are brought on a mini-journey through Celtic legend and Otherworldly charm; using folkloric anecdotes and fairy stories recollected from her childhood Eimear conjures up a magical world which we are all invited to visit. Her illustrations (which you can view more of here) tell tales in themselves, but Eimear’s words accompany them so perfectly.

Maybe the reason I’m so enamoured with Eimear’s blog is because she posts about things that really resound with my own interests and experiences, like her tale of visiting holy wells as a child before really understanding their significance (something I’ve been meaning to post about for ages). Or this link to a radio interview with the wonderfully wise Eddie Lenihan she recently shared, which explains the true nature of Irish fairies so well I’m raging I hadn’t come across it before my recent guest post over at The Whimsical Cottage! It really is an absolutely adorable documentary, well well worth a listen. Seriously, fire it on and snuggle down with a hot mug of tea. It’ll be the most enjoyable and informative 40 minutes of your evening.

Before that, though, don’t forget to call over and say hello to Eimear! Oh, and here's just another brief example of the loveliness also awaiting you over her gallery:

Not Just A Scary Face

 Image source

 

"THEN Cuchulain went on his way, and Cathbad that had followed him went with him. And presently they came to a ford, and there they saw a young girl thin and white-skinned and having yellow hair, washing and ever washing, and wringing out clothing that was stained crimson red, and she crying and keening all the time. 'Little Hound,' said Cathbad, 'Do you see what it is that young girl is doing? It is your red clothes she is washing, and crying as she washes, because she knows you are going to your death against Maev'e's great army.'"

"Cuchulain of Muirthemne" by Lady Augustus Gregory, 1902

It’s a tale almost every Irish schoolchild will be only too familiar with- the young hound of Cullen and the king’s druid on their way to the most famous battle in Celtic lore, The Cattle Raid of Cooley. Taken from the 2000-year-old Ulster Cycle it’s also the earliest written record of an encounter with that most famous of Ireland’s fairies, the banshee.

I think I’m actually going to go as banshee now, not a vampire. No doubt I’ll change my mind a couple of dozen times again over the next 24 hours, but for the moment banshee it is! I’ll probably just stick to the obvious scary version, because it’s easier, though the aul Bean Sidhe comes in all sorts of guises. The screeching ghostly spectre that most people, myself included, usually associate with her is just one of  many faces.
<--- by Sweetheart Sinner Creations

Her most famous face, certainly. Maybe that’s because her brief appearance in that wonderfully true-to-life movie Darby O’Gill was so memorable (I know it frightened the proverbial out of my wee childhood self).  But it might also be because she’s often confused with the Morrigan, an old raven-feathered deity from Irish mythology who is also associated with death. While the Morrigan accompanies a soul passing over, however, the banshee only alerts the living to the passing of that soul.  She really can’t do you any harm at all, and she isn’t always a vision of terror either.

'Screaming Banshees' by Emily Balivet

Anyway, I’ve bored of searching for costume ideas online so instead tonight I’m going to point you in the direction of a little more Samhain reading, this time from Lady Gregory’s ‘Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland’ (1920). Specifically this chapter on banshees and other death warnings,  which provides a more accurate account of the whole phenomenon. Or, if my inane babbling has already bored you of all things screaming and keening, you might enjoy this chapter. It’s packed full of tiny little ghost stories :) 

You know it’s funny; this book hails from an age when it was all the rage in Ireland for intellectuals to troop across the country collecting folk and fairy tales from the lesser classes.  The majority of the practices, traditions and urban legends documented from the period have more or less died out over the subsequent generations, but there are still a lot that endure.  And reading back over them I’ve realised that the ones with the most staying power  seem to be those concerning death and dying.  Ah, but sure isn’t that the nature of the human condition. We’re obsessed with our own mortality. That must be why we love Halloween so much! Well, hope you’re all having a spooktacular start to this seasonal weekend!

A Poem and a Painting

© Matthew Porter

Sorry all’s been quiet on this blogger front recently, I’ve been having connection difficulties yet again. Not to worry, I’m back now! Today I have for you a lovely little poem by Irish antiquary Thomas Crofton Croker. The Brothers Grimm were fans, as far as I hear it, and even translated some the Cork man’s work into German. 

TO THE

DOWAGER LADY CHATTERTON,

CASTLE MAHON.

by Thomas Crofton Croker, 1825

Thee, Lady, would I lead through Fairy-land
(Whence cold and doubting reasoners are exiled),
A land of dreams, with air-built castles piled;
The moonlight shefros there, in merry band
With arful cluricaune, should ready stand
To welcome thee - Imagination's child!
Till on thy ear would burst so sadly wild
The banshee's shriek, who points with wither'd hand
In the dim twilight should the phooka come,
Whose dusky form fades in the sunny light,
That opens clear calm lakes upon thy sight,
Where blessed spirts dwell in endless bloom.
I know thee, Lady - thou wilt not deride
Such Fairy Scenes. - Then onward with thy Guide.

By the way, the painting is by my sister’s fella Poochie. I did a post on him a while back. The thing is, he doesn’t actually know I’m using it ‘cause it’s hanging over in my sister’s room and I sneaked a quick snap of it the other day. I’m sure he won’t mind, though, if I give his Deviant Art account another wee plug. So go check him out!

Bricriu's Feast

Well it’s all over now folks and, the odd embarrassing blog post and sore head aside, I have to say- what a bloody great weekend! Right, so I know I promised photos of the festivities. I’m not going to disappoint, it’s just that nobody said anything about them having to be my photos. You see I wanted to start off with lasts night’s closing event- a retelling of Bricriu’s Feast, an old Celtic myth from the Ulster Cycle- and unfortunately my own images wouldn’t do it justice. 

I’ll get back to telling you about the feast in a minute but first I want to point you in the direction of Robert O’Dowd, the guy responsible for the pictures you see here. This boy really is a photographic genius now in my eyes; if you’d seen how horrible a night it was and just how dull my own and everyone else’s images came out you’d appreciate these shots all the more. I must have taken a hundred and hardly one was usable. (Please, check out his Flickr for more great photos of the event- and of our lovely town!)

So anyway. Sadly the weather was awful; the sky was so heavy with rain you could almost touch it. But we’re used to that kinda thing round here and, apart from a lot of really dreary photographs, it had little effect on the feast itself. Which was AMAZING, by the way. Fairy dancers, giants, warriors, druids, dragons, fire eaters, chariot racing, huge big scary crows, a whole army of bohran players, and some of the most amazing costume design ever. And that was just the opening parade, which marched through the main street of the town where it gathered up us common folk who followed it in procession down to the beach. 

There on the shore greens  they had erected dolmens, turrets, a stage with huge flags emblazoned with Celtic designs that flapped furiously in the wind, and a 14 foot replica of An Grianan of Aileach (which actually was supposed to be Emain Macha for the purposes of the story, but sure isn’t one iron age fort the same as the next). All with the backdrop of beautiful Lough Swilly. It was in this setting that they proceeded to re-enact the entire tale of Bricriu’s Feast.  Accompanied by The Henry Girls (a local traditional group) every one of the actors playing the heroes and heroines of Irish legend did such an excellent job. So lively and fun! I think my favourite bit had to be when all the kids in the audience got into it and started cheering along Cuchulain and booing the baddies.  It was just the best way to end the festival.

If anyone wants to know the story of Bricriu’s Feast you can read a summary of it here, though that could never be near as fun as seeing the whole thing acted out so enthusiastically. You know sometimes I think the Donegal Tourist Board should be paying me because I do like to wax on a bit about its greatness. Well, more festival photos to follow tomorrow. Have a nice evening!

Fantastical Origami

Some utterly amazing origami by Philip West. Now that’s some good paper folding. I don’t know if I’d have the patience for it myself, but if anyone’s interested you can learn how to make your own Yoda master here.

Happy Summer Days

Áine, the Irish goddess most associated with midsummer, by Amy Brown.

Hello and happy midsummer to you all! For once we’re actually getting a summer to be in the mid of here in Ireland. But enough about the weather. I’m happy cause it means the evenings will soon be getting darker again, and the mornings too. It was bright till 11 o’clock last night, and it must have been around three or four this morning when the sun came up. How’s anyone supposed to sleep! Maybe I just need blackout blinds… Anyway, in other news, I found out this morning that I don’t have to get an operation I was expecting to have in the next wee while. I might still have to eventually, but for now it’s on hold indefinitely. Woo hoo! What an all round excellent day :) Hope you’re all having one too!

Inishowen in Colour

When it comes to art I think my favourite medium has to be ink and acrylic. That makes me sound like I know what I’m talking about, which I don’t. Anytime I ever picked up a paint brush the only thing I made was a mess. But as the man says, I know what I like and I like these.

Maybe I’m a bit biased, though, because they are by another local artist and yet again most of his paintings are of the little peninsula where I live. The one above is of An Grianan of Aileach, for example, a place which I thought I’d talk a lot of on this blog when I first started, but which seems to have fallen by the wayside. Maybe I’ll do a Grianan post someday soon.

Anyway, they’re by a man named John Quigley. If his work reminds you of Jim Fitzpatrick then you’ve a good eye; the two men worked together for over a decade. Mr Quigley has also had art commissioned by Paramount Studios, Riverdance and Guinness, among others, while Seamus Heaney and the late Senator Edward Kennedy are just some of the notable names to have given his work a home. A local boy done good, from the way I see it.

Some Home-Grown Fairy Tales

The reason for today’s post is three-fold: I’m using it firstly as an excuse to show off these beautiful paintings by local artist Ros Harvey, secondly to give a little shout out to my newest follower Celtic Lady, and finally for its original purpose which was to share these links to fae tales from fair Inishowen.

All the stories below were taken from a website dedicated to a wee town called Moville, just down the road from me. As far as I know the site’s run by one man. A bit of a modern day Yeats, this fella has gathered up local folk and fairy lore from various sources and included the collection in his history and genealogy of the area. If you have an afternoon free some day, I thoroughly recommend taking some time out to read them. You won’t be disappointed. Oh, and the images by Ms Harvey just happen to be of the area where most of the stories are set.

Well here you go, tales of pesky Sidhe meddling with the lives of us mere mortals:

A Date With Death- One man's warning from the wee folk.

The Fairy Rope- A lucky find for two Buncrana factory girls.

Blind Man’s Buff- It's not hard to find someone in Ireland to spin you a yarn or two about a fool who axed a fairy tree and even now all these years later they still always go something like this.

Fairy Magic Around the Coasts of Inishowen- This one is a gem. It reads like an old pre-Tolkien fantasy and was written in 1867 by a historian named Maghtochair. I’m trying to figure out some way to include it in our wedding whenever we manage to get round to organising it.

Marriage on the Rocks- Another one I’m thinking of working into my wedding, about a man who marries a selkie.

The Tuatha de Danann- Finally, here’s a little something for anyone who liked ‘about the title’. It contains bags more information on Danu and her children, along with other summaries of old Irish legends.

Images © Ros Harvey

Buttons and Sea Monsters

Some more lovely things shared at lostateminor.com. First up today is this cute (as a) button wallpaper by Dutch company Studio Ditte.

Followed by these multimedia 3D artworks by J Shea.

Magonus Saccatus Patricius- The Renegade Roman Celt

As usual I’m working this St Patrick’s day, as I have been every year since I was old enough to help out in my dad’s betting shop (i.e. 14). The powers that be seem to think that it makes some sort of sense to organise major racing festivals alongside public holidays. Who cares about the entertainment of the general population, what about my social life?! Well there was that one year I managed to get off. I was a member of the samba band in a local carnival group (cowbell number two). We were invited to join the main parade in Dublin and for our awesome amazingness we won best in show. Better days.

I suppose I shouldn’t be sniffing at the extra work during These Troubled Times. But I’m still miffed at missing all the fun. So to distract myself from my huff I’ve been thinking more about the man Patrick than all the craic I’ll not be having.

The way I see it, there are roughly three generally held views of our pointy-hatted patron. You can take the official line which paints him as the herald of Christianity in Ireland, banisher of snaky godless druids and bringer of holy light. Or, if your not that way inclined, you may see him as the big, bad persecutor of those poor native pagans, who were just minding their own business, living their simple spiritually fulfilling lives when he came and drove them out of their peaceful forest homes. Or- and this, I suspect, is the most generally held of the three- you know nor care little about Magonus Saccatus Patricius but you’re happy to raise a glass or two him anyway in thanks for the day off work (lucky sods).

I was brought up, like all good Irish Catholic schoolchildren, with view one and I remember always having to go to mass to get our shamrocks blessed before we could go to the parade. Later, when I was going through my half hearted teenage I-wanna-be-a-witch phase, I was quite adamant about view two.

But today I have another much more rock’n’roll view of Patrick. It’s the one that sees a working-class hero who risked his life to challenge the status-quo. Of an ex-slave who threw off his shackles and incited revolution. Yes, he drove out the druids. But these weren’t the nature loving wise men of mythology, these were the corrupt dictators of pre-medieval Europe. They were the ruling elite, subjugators and manipulators of the masses.

The ordinary pagans were serfs who had about as much respect for their leaders as the French did for Louis XVI. The only reason they hadn’t risen up before Patrick came along was that they were tied to Druid rule through their gods and religion. Like any decent despot the druid elder was a man of great spiritual gravitas. But then came the bearded man from Wales (or Brittany, or England, or wherever happens to be claiming him these days) who offered them a way out. They really didn’t care that he was peddling a new god, just as long as this one answered their prayers for a good harvest and a mild winter like the last ones did.

It was mostly thanks to Patrick that today we still celebrate the main pagan festivals only with Christian titles. He was a savvy one, young Pat, and realised all the people really wanted was a little love and reassurance, with the odd party thrown in.

Of course, there are many who would compare the above description of the druidic regime to that of the Catholic church in the proceeding centuries and question what Patrick really achieved. But you could say the very same about Jesus, and that is too tired and convoluted an argument to start here at the end of a post that’s way too long as it is. I've already probably bored to tears anyone who’s been unfortunate enough to read this far. Sorry about that.

Vintage images via The Graphics Fairy.

One of Those Random Musings

I like to daydream as I dander and while walking home this evening I got to thinking about an old Irish story that I recently reread.

I have a deep love of mythology and folklore, from all over the world. Naturally, having grown up with the stuff, the Irish legends are my particular favourite. The Ulster Cycle, for example, which is not only one of the oldest pieces of vernacular literature in Europe, but it’s like a fantasy book set right in the area I’m from and about people who are supposedly my ancestors. And its influence is pervasive. From Tolkien to religious tradition, I’ve noticed the themes and characters of the sagas popping up all over the place.

It wasn’t until after a conversation in the pub with an English friend that I realised I’d missed a connection- Deirdre of the Sorrows and Snow White.

Isn’t Snow White an old German fairytale, collected by the Brothers Grimm, brought to the masses by Disney? Well, yes, it is. But you know the way these things work. Germany isn’t so far away from Ireland that there wouldn’t have been cultural exchange, and sure weren’t the Celts not German.

Anyway, I’m not going to recount the whole saga of poor Deirdre and her star-crossed lover here (if you want you can read a brief and reasonably accurate summary at this site). The tale is, in fact, usually compared to that of Helen of Troy. Both recount how the beauty of one woman, and the will of a brutish king, resulted in the deaths of many men. I’ve never heard of anyone likening it to Snow White, though, which I now find surprising. Here’s why:

At the start of the story the beauty of the new-born Deirdre is foretold, though by the king’s druid not the queen’s mirror. This puts her life in danger, not from the wicked stepmother, but from The Red Branch Knights who are afraid by the prediction her beauty will cause bloodshed. For safety she is sent away to live in the forest.

She lives in the forest until she comes of age and it is here the story lends itself the most to that of the fairest-of-the-fair. Indeed at this point Deirdre was the most beautiful woman in all of Ireland, but it was the one she was to fall in love with that was the real Snow White. One day in winter while watching a dead calf being devoured by a raven she declared, "My beloved would be a man who would have hair as black as the raven, cheeks as red as the blood, and skin as white as the snow."

As Fate would have it there was indeed a man who matched her criteria and when Naoise, a knight from a powerful family, happened to wonder into her part of the woods while out hunting, he fell for the damsel in distress.

Deirdre escapes her verdant dungeon with her shining knight, but there’s no happy ending as the aged king whom she had been betrothed to marry at birth sets out in pursuit. The ensuing shenanigans are gory and harrowing, with implications for great heroes and events that followed, but that’s a story for another day.

Sorry this post has turned out to be one long ramble but I’m in a waffling sort of mood tonight. I’m a trained journalist and sometimes I think I use this blog to write in all the ways I wouldn’t while working. Ying and yang and all that

Child of Danú

      Danu the Mother Goddess

I really doubt anybody other than myself will ever read this blog, but, on the off chance that someone actually bothers, maybe I should offer an explanation of its somewhat silly and slightly ostentatious title.

First of all, I just want to point out that I am by no means claiming to be a ‘Child of Danu’ ( that, in my opinion, would be arrogant). Nor do I intend this to be a place where I’ll mull over the great goddess, or any of her demigod children.

I simply thought the term to be an apt, if a little irrelevant, heading for a scrapbook of my flights of fancy. Apt because it alludes to many such fanciful flights, irrelevant because it may be that after this initial post I’ll never refer to anything pertaining to it directly again. Who knows?

Anyway, here is as concise an explanatory note as to its meaning that I can provide:

The Children of Danu were the legendary Tuatha De Danann, a people strongly linked to my local area, my family name, and the imagination I inherited from my childhood.

They were a heroic, mystical race who inhabited Ireland in pre-Celtic times, yet they remain a pervasive force on the psyche of the Irish, whether they realise it or not, and stand for all that I love about the culture and mythology of my homeland.

The Tuatha De Danann Arriving in Ireland by Roy Burns

Evidently enough, they worshipped Danu who was mother of all gods and goddess of all things. The Tuatha De Danann were themselves godlike, though mortal. They possessed ancient knowledge and commanded great magic, as can be seen in tales of their coming to this land, which they won following a battle with a race called the Fir Bolgs.

According to legend, upon their approach to Ireland the Tuatha De Danann “spread druidically-formed showers and fog-sustaining shower-clouds over the country, and caused the air to pour down fire and blood upon the Fir Bolgs,”  but their enemy had druids of their own who cast counter spells and enchantments.(Squire, 1905)

The story goes that due to a magical coastal mist summoned by the Fir Bolgs the Tuatha De Danann were forced to circle Ireland nine times before making landfall on the shores of present day Leitrim from whence they marched northwards, stopping to make first contact with the natives at a place dear to my heart.

      An Grianan

That place was An Grianan of Aileach, an iron-age stone ring fort perched on a hill not far from my hometown. From within the fort it is possible to access tunnels that apparently run underground for miles. It is said that deep within the labyrinth lies a room where a band of Tuatha De Danann horsemen still slumber. Just as in the tales of England’s Arthur, they will come again when Ireland needs them most, marking their return by lapping the island nine times.

But that’s just a local yarn, sourced from a story about a drunkard who fell in a ditch one night and found a hidden, external opening to one of the passageways. He claimed to have spoken with one of the horsemen who, astride his mount, woke momentarily to tell the bewildered gentleman of their apocalyptic-esque plans.

It is likely that the stories of the end of the Tuatha De Danann’s reign inspired the tale. You see, with the arrival of the Celts and the subsequent advent of Christianity, like the people of Avalon, the Tuatha De Dannan did not simply die away. Instead they retreated from the world of men into the mounds of the earth, supposedly revealing themselves on occasion to this very day. They are the Aes Sidhe (usually simply called ‘Sidhe’), more commonly known as the fairy folk.

According to a wee woman down the road, and probably American tourist guides to Ireland, they can still be found living in trees and caves, by ancient stones and sacred lakes, around ruined forts and craggy hills.

Indeed, the Children of Danu were not the first peoples to inhabit this isle, nor were they to be the last, but tales of their magical mastery and later demise have left their mark on our mythology and folklore.

When I was little I was often warned to stay away from the bells of purple foxglove lest I anger the fairies who made their homes there. The fantasy was somewhat spoiled when I discovered that the flowers are actually poisonous and it was more likely a clever conspiracy by my mother to keep me for picking them. But I believed it, if only for a time. *sigh*

Picture by Charlotte Bird

Still, though, even in the commercial, money idolising society of Ireland today, where tradition and story-telling are fading away as fast as Aga cookers and local bakeries, you’d be hard pressed to find a child who’ll step in a ring of toadstools but on a dare, or a man who’ll cut down a fairy tree without a care to his own well being.

More than that, many of the practices and characters that litter the sagas of the Tuatha De Danann can be yet found in Irish society in the guise of saints, shrines and sacraments. From Danu herself (St Anne) to the patron St Brigit (Brigid, goddess of love and war), and in the now holy days of Beltane and Samhain. The list goes on and on… They weren’t the most inventive, the early Celtic Christians, but they certainly were adaptive.