Read Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference) Online
Authors: James MacKillop
Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference) (26 page)
The Ulster Cycle
Part II: Cúchulainn and the Táin
Cúchulainn usually can be counted on to get the best of things, as his appearance in two stories from the last chapter shows. Of the three most dominant heroes of early Irish tradition, Lug Lámfhota, Cúchulainn and Fionn mac Cumhaill, he is usually ranked first. Like the other two, he appears to have roots in the earliest Celtic traditions, with links and analogues among the early continental Celts. Cúchulainn was favoured by learned storytellers for at least seven centuries, from the seventh through to the fourteenth. While his exploits greatly exaggerate human potential, several of the most important stories show him at his most human: growing to maturity, wooing a wife, and engaged in heartbreaking combat with a warrior who is his unacknowledged son. He is the most dynamic force in the
Táin Βó Cuailnge
, the national epic. Curiously, his adventures were barely extended in oral tradition, in contrast with those of Fionn mac Cumhaill, whose many portrayals are found in an immense body of later popular literature. For ordinary Irish people over the last 130 years, Cúchulainn’s name has more often been relearned through books than inherited from everyday discourse. When, however, the Irish state looked for a heroic figure to commemorate the scene of the first bloodshed on behalf of national independence, the Easter Rising of 1916, in the lobby of the General Post Office on what is now O’Connell Street, they chose Oliver Sheppard’s much-photographed statue of Cúchulainn.
At the time of the first translations of early Irish literature in the nineteenth century, commentators routinely compared Cúchulainn
with classical heroes such as Heracles and Aeneas. More recent opinion holds that if Cúchulainn resembles early Mediterranean figures it is because early Christian redactors of his stories, themselves informed by Latin tradition, shaped him to look that way. Recent scholarship has also tended to downplay the ‘Pagan survival’ theories of early Irish narrative, but the deep appeal of his persona means that he could not have just been invented one day by an inspired scribe. Speculative links between Cúchulainn and the Gaulish god Esus appear to be insubstantial. More significant, perhaps, are his characteristic quickness and short, dark stature, features that Julius Caesar attributed to Gaulish Mercury. Inescapable are the implications of his birth name Sétanta. Although it has been glossed as ‘god of routes and roads’ and ‘one who knows the way’, the name bears at least a superficial resemblance to Setantii, the name of a people of northwest Britain described by Ptolemy (first century
AD
). His usual spear or javelin, the Gáe Bulga, evokes the name of the Belgae, the prominent early Celtic people described as the most ferocious of all by Caesar. There is probably also an echo of the Gaulish people the Manapii in the cognomen of Cúchulainn’s fatherin-law Forgall Manach.
The usual domain of Cúchulainn is Mag Muirtheimne, the plain adjacent to the Irish Sea in eastern County Louth, from Drogheda at the mouth of the River Boyne north to his fortress at Dún Delgan, next to the modern city of Dundalk. The same territory provides an entry route for invaders in the
Lebor Gabála
. It could well have served the same function for historical peoples such as the Manapii, Belgae or Setantii, who resided directly across the Irish Sea. Whatever the reason, early storytellers habitually link Cúchulainn with Mag Muirtheimne, whereas Lug Lámfhota is not ascribed a domain. Fionn mac Cumhaill might be thought to live at the Hill of Allen in County Kildare, but his adventures take him everywhere in Ireland as well as to hundreds of locations in Gaelic Scotland.
The translation of Cúchulainn’s name, ‘hound of Culann’, usually strikes English readers as odd. Who is Culann and why should he have a hound at all? We are not used to such favourable associations for hounds or dogs. Depictions of the domesticated canine among the Celts offer some answers. The dog is portrayed on the Gundestrup Cauldron and is associated with the Gaulish goddess Sirona. Dog
bones are commonly found in early holy wells, and a dog skull was uncovered by modern archaeologists at the base of the famous royal site, Emain Macha, in Ulster. A leader of pre-Claudian Britain (first century
BC
) was Cunobelinus, literally, ‘the hound of Belinus’. More popularly, the cultivation of such noble breeds as the Irish wolfhound and the Irish terrier implies that many dogs in early Ireland were welcome in more esteemed places in a household than in barnyards and open fields.
Even so, the widely known story of how Cúchulainn acquired his name after killing Culann’s dog (see next section) may have been a later invention to explain inherited practice. Dáithí Ó hÓgáin (1991) describes it as a ‘secondary invention’ and asserts that his original name meant ‘warrior of Culann’. Ó hÓgáin’s explanation for the identity of Culann lies in the archaic word
cul
, ‘chariot’. In the story Culann is described as the kind of artisan/tradesman who would manufacture war chariots. A corrupted genitive or a compound of
cul
might have been the basis for the element
culann
so that ‘Cúchulainn’ would have originally been translated as ‘chariot-warrior’.
The most plausible theory of Cúchulainn’s origin, Ó hÓgáin says further, is that he symbolized a particular war-cult introduced into Ireland by a Celtic people who crossed over from Britain to the area of Muirtheimne.
Like other heroes in world traditional literature, Heracles, Perseus or Siegfried, Cúchulainn is the product of an extraordinary, even miraculous conception. Actually, he has several such stories, all centring on the same mother, Deichtine, daughter of Cathbad the esteemed druid. Sometimes she is also seen as a sister or daughter of King Conchobar mac Nessa. In two stories Lug Lámfhota of the immortal Tuatha Dé Danann is Cúchulainn’s ultimate father, even though the young hero has a host of mortal foster-fathers.
In the shortest version Deichtine is so distracted by grief for the death of a fosterson that she does not notice while drinking water that a tiny creature has passed into her mouth. That creature is Lug
Lámfhota. Or she may merely be dreaming that it is Lug. Dream or reality, Deichtine is impregnated by swallowing the small creature. People in the court, hearing that Deichtine is pregnant and not knowing of a father, assume she may have been compromised by a drunken Conchobar mac Nessa. Before she can deliver the child Cúchulainn, she is married to Sualtam mac Róich, but, given her condition, she is ashamed to enter his bed. No mere cipher, Sualtam becomes a foster-father of his wife’s child and is later decapitated in defence of Ulster against the invasion of Ailill and Medb. Deichtine is ill as her confinement approaches and she suffers a miscarriage. Her virginity is restored, and she at last embraces her husband.
A separate version begins with Deichtine’s disappearance, with fifty maidens, from the court of Conchobar mac Nessa. After three years a flock of birds settles on the field of Emain Macha and lays waste the crops. Conchobar and his retainers drive off the birds, which then lead the royal party to Brug na Bóinne, the residence of Angus Óg on the Boyne River. That night the men enter a splendid palace, where a noble young man is seen with what appear to be fifty maidens. The young women include Deichtine, and the noble youth is revealed to be Lug Lámfhota. Realizing this, Conchobar asks to see Deichtine, but she sends instead her newborn son Cúchulainn.
In a third alternative, less widely circulated, Conchobar, as either Deichtine’s father or brother, commits incest with her to produce Cúchulainn.
There are also rival stories of the hero’s fosterage, an important question in the unstable society of early Ireland where the sponsorship of a prominent fosterer could guarantee a lifetime of security and influence. Following the first of the conception stories, cited above, Sualtam mac Róich, Deichtine’s husband, is seen as Cúchulainn’s sole foster-father. More often leading members of the Ulster court vie for Deichtine’s favour to be named fosterer, a possible contretemps she diplomatically resolves by agreeing to have seven in the role concurrently. They are: (i) Sencha mac Ailella the judge to give eloquence and poetry; (ii) Blái Briuga the hospitaller to provide for material comfort; (iii) Fergus mac Róich to take the young hero on his knee; (iv) Amairgin the poet to be his teacher; (v) Conall Cernach to be a foster-brother
and virtual twin; (vi) Findchóem, Conall’s mother, to be his wet nurse; and finally (vii) Conchobar to be his principal foster-father.
The boy Cúchulainn is still called Sétanta and must earn his heroic name, much as Heracles is first known as Alcides. How this happened along with other boyhood deeds is remembered by Fergus mac Róich, his tutor, in a lengthy early chapter of the
Táin Bó Cuailnge
. While still only five years old (or seven in many sources), Sétanta learns of a martial boys’ corps at Emain Macha, headed by Follamain, Conchobar’s son, and travels 25 miles by foot to reach it. To make the journey seem shorter, he plays games with weapons, such as throwing his javelin ahead of him, then racing forward to catch it. Upon his arrival Sétanta finds the boys, 150 strong, some practising fighting skills while others are playing hurling, a game like field hockey. He rushes headlong into the game, gets the ball, dodges around the surprised players and scores a goal. This does not go down well with the boys, and especially angers their leader Follamain. The rest of the boys throw their sticks, balls and finally their spears at Sétanta. Under this attack he experiences his first battle frenzy or warp spasm, baring his teeth, making his hair stand on end and putting a bright circle of light around his head. Thus transformed, Sétanta rushes the crowd, knocking fifty of the boys to the ground and chasing off others until Conchobar takes him by the arm. The king advises the impetuous boy that the corps is forbidden to play with the newcomer until he claims the protection of the group. Sétanta replies that he would have complied had he known. Conchobar then introduces the boy to the troop, and they all return to playing hurling. Quickly asserting himself, Sétanta begins knocking down the others one by one until Conchobar calls out to ask what he is doing. He answers that all the boys must come under his protection, which the terrified boys agree to do, even though Sétanta is younger than they are.
A little more than a year later, Sétanta is left behind playing hurling at Emain Macha while the rest of the royal household visits the residence of a wealthy smith named Culann in Cuailnge, next to the boy’s home territory of Muirtheimne. Guests at the smith’s lonely mansion know they can relax because they are protected against intruders by the host’s huge, ferocious dog. In the midst of their
merrymaking they hear a terrible sound. The late-arriving Sétanta, still only a boy, has slain the mighty dog by smashing it against a doorpost. An alternative version has Cúchulainn fling a ball into the dog’s open mouth, mortally punishing the creature’s innards. The guests at first cheer the boy’s feats of strength, but Culann is clearly dismayed at the loss of his prized hound. Sensing this loss, Sétanta promises to raise another whelp to replace the guard dog, and will himself serve as the hound in the interim. Saluting his understanding and generosity, the crowd applauds and calls him the hound,
Cú
, of Culann,
Chulainn
, the name he retains thenceforward.
As we saw in the previous chapter with Finnabair’s descriptions for her mother Medb, Cúchulainn is often portrayed as short, dark, beardless and filled with high spirits. Accounts vary from text to text, but his hair is usually thought to be of three colours, brown at the roots, blood red in the middle and blond at the crown. Some aspects of his person appear magical rather than what is usually thought handsome in a man. He has four dimples in each cheek, each dimple being of a different colour: yellow, green, crimson and blue. Seven pupils fill each eye. He clasps with seven fingers, and the seven toes on each foot allow him the grip of a hawk or griffin. As off-putting as some of these features may sound, Cúchulainn is conventionally described as handsome and highly attractive to women. Perhaps readers of early Irish literature did not always visualize the hero in his beguiling feats.
Difficult to visualize also is the singular transformation Cúchulainn undergoes before entering battle. The Irish term
ríastrad
is untranslatable, but the usual attempts are battle fury, contortion and warp spasm. When this overcomes him, he becomes a fearsome figure such as never has been seen before. His entire body quivers like a bullrush in a running stream. The muscles of his neck expand to the size of a baby’s head, while his legs rotate on their axes, his calves, hams and heels shifting to the front and knees and feet to the back. One eye recedes to the interior of his skull, reduced to the size of a pin, while the other thrusts out. His mouth widens to meet his ears, and foam pours from his mouth like the fleece of a three-year-old wether. The thump of his heartbeat is as loud as a lion’s roar as he rushes towards his prey. From his scalp a column of dark blood spurts forth, scattering
in four directions, forming a gloomy mist. Lastly, a projection emerges from Cúchulainn’s head, like a horn but the size of man’s fist. It is the
lón láith
[light of the hero (?)], which signals he is about to begin combat.
As the paragon of Irish heroes, Cúchulainn’s personal strengths are a continual theme among storytellers as well as among other characters in the narratives. Fergus mac Róich praises Cúchulainn while conducting his adulterous affair with Medb, Cúchulainn’s soon-to-be adversary. No raven is more ravenous, no lion more ferocious. Obstacles and barriers do not exist for him. A characteristic expression of his energy is the distinctive salmon leap, which modern commentators compare to the jump of a soccer player. It may be both aggressive and defensive, enabling him to pounce on an enemy but also escape a predator. His ability to soar upward explains why nimbleness and brilliance are thought to be Cúchulainn’s signal assets. The hero’s vitality and attractiveness to women engender love-sickness in many an Ulsterwoman’s breast. Warriors wish that Cúchulainn would take a wife so that their daughters would forget him. From the many he chooses Emer, daughter of the wily Forgall Manach. Even before he speaks to her Cúchulainn kills the three sons of Nechta Scéne as a demonstration of his lethal power, as the prevailing custom demanded he win Emer by force.
Upon their meeting, things begin well as Cúchulainn and Emer greet each other in riddles only they can understand. His stories of early exploits charm the maiden. Seeing the swell of her breasts above her gown, Cúchulainn coos that it would be a sweet place to rest. No one will rest here, she answers, until he accomplish three demanding tasks: (i) killing a hundred men at a range of fords in rivers, (ii) slaying three times nine men while leaving the middle man in each group still standing, and (iii) staying awake from February to May, and from May to November. Her father Forgall is less taken with the young swain, however. Going with friends to the court at Emain Macha disguised as Gaulish emissaries, he proposes that the only way for Ulster heroes, Cúchulainn in particular, to achieve greatness is to travel to distant Scotland to be schooled in the arts of war by the amazonian Scáthach. Not so secretly, Forgall wishes that Cúchulainn will perish on the journey or be slain by Scáthach herself. Even after heeding
Emer’s warning of her father’s intrigue, Cúchulainn departs for Scotland with Lóegaire, Conall and Conchobar.
The experience in Scotland turns out very differently from what Forgall wishes. In addition to receiving the required training, Cúchulainn enjoys successive romantic encounters with martial women. Upon arrival in Scotland, the four Ulstermen receive lessons in balance and endurance from Domnall Mildemail [the warlike], who still advises them to travel on to meet Scáthach. The tutor’s hideous daughter Dornoll, meanwhile, becomes smitten with Cúchulainn, who does not return her affections. Hurt and angry, she vows revenge. In a short while she conjures up an enticing, roseate vision of Emain Macha, causing homesick Lóegaire, Conall and Conchobar to return to Ulster, leaving Cúchulainn alone in his quest for the right instruction. To reach Scáthach’s fort, often identified with archaeological sites on the Isle of Skye in the Hebrides, the hero must cross the daunting ‘Pupils’ Bridge’. Designed to block the incapable, it is arched high in the middle and is low at each end. When he first steps on it, the bridge heaves low and throws Cúchulainn off, to the laughter of bystanders. Seized at that moment by his battle fury, Cúchulainn shifts to his salmon leap and flies to the middle of the bridge and then on, adroitly, to the far shore. He then treks on confidently to Scáthach’s fort, hammering on the door with his spear, smashing through it in the process.
Recognizing that only a substantially trained fighter would have made it this far, Scáthach sends her daughter Uathach [spectre] to answer the door, and she immediately falls in love with Cúchulainn, like so many women before her. The Ulsterman also gets on well with the mother, who gives him a new spear, the Gáe Bulga, with which he is always later identified. Next she shows him how to cast it with his foot for maximum accuracy and deadly force. In time Cúchulainn comes to know the ‘friendship of Scáthach’s thighs’, which may derive from a forgotten warrior initiation instead of being mere lovemaking. Scáthach grants Cúchulainn three favours: (i) to continue to instruct him most carefully; (ii) to give him her daughter Uathach, without exacting the bride price; and (iii) to predict his future career. In return Scáthach asks Cúchulainn’s aid in fighting her enemies, an army of men and women led by the amazonian Aífe, whom even the formidable Scáthach fears. Despite her role in the narrative, Aífe may be a double
for Scáthach; she is a different Aífe from the cruel stepmother of the Children of Lir. Cúchulainn charges into Aífe’s army with heady success, slaying fighters left and right, and then comes into hand-to-hand combat with the warrior queen herself. She strikes the blade of his sword, leaving him with only the hilt, but he steadily gets the better of her, pinning her down and pointing the blade of another sword to her heart. Now he makes three demands of her: that she cease war upon Scáthach, stay with him that night, and bear him a son. She agrees.
The son she bears in nine months’ time is named Connla (also Conlaoch, Conlai, etc.). Father and son spend no time together in Scotland, but they are destined to confront one another at a later date.
A fellow student of Cúchulainn in Scotland is Ferdiad [man of smoke], a bosom friend and sword brother. Ferdiad too is fated to find himself confronting Cúchulainn in the future.
On his return from Scotland to Emain Macha, Cúchulainn battles Emer’s family and carries her off along with much gold and silver. In a struggle that lasts a year, he fulfils all the demands she had put upon him. Emer’s father tries to escape the onslaught but tumbles from the fortifications to his death. Despite such violent courtship, Emer is usually portrayed as Cúchulainn’s wife through the rest of the Ulster Cycle, and she is never said to leave him. In some stories Cúchulainn’s wife is named as Eithne Ingubai, which may be but another name for Emer. Some of his dalliances have already been cited, such as the affair with Cú Roí’s wife Bláithíne, and more are yet to come, as with Manannán mac Lir’s wife Fand. He is also to be the love object of other women, such as the female warrior Cathach and the tragic swan maiden Derbforgaill.