Reflections after a reading of The Wooing of Étain :
Oengus Mac Óc taken from his mother
So his father would not know him
(as Mabon from Modron; Pryderi from Rhiannon)
To be fostered by Midir.
Étain Echraide – (of the horses)
Poured drink for the company;
This was a skill she had, to pour;
A Cup Bearer supreme among many.
It was then that Midir came for her.
Links in a chain of story – beyond time
for time has no part in its telling:
Images and incidents recurring, repeating
the fractured joins of narrative dissolving.
The gods, in their own way, speaking
to us : always now, never history.
Three wells of the world – so the Norse myth says
One guarded by Mimir’s head, from which wisdom flows.
Three heads in the well – so the folk tale tells it:
(“Fair maid, white and red,
Comb me smooth and stroke my head;
And every hair a sheave shall be
And every sheave a golden tree.”) *
What they say will be, will be.
Prophetic voices out of wells.
So Febul’s seeress says:
“This sea of grey water was once a fair green land with white flowers.
It was Bran who brought it, the flood that drowns the land”.
It was the Head of Brân who spoke to those who came back across the sea
For bliss to reign until the door is opened – until the seal is broken
Like Branwen’s heart – would that she had spoken and proffered the cup
But she was absent from this company, an echo sundered from a body.
Come back Branwen to our feast, our Otherworld sojourn where you offer
The drink that sustains us from the Cup of Plenty and the Mead of Belonging
So there is no door we must not open, no usurped land we cannot claim
So we may inherit and inhabit the land together in your name.
According to Ynglinga Saga The Vanir cut off Mimir’s head and sent it back to the Æsir so Odinn preserved it in herbs and placed it by one of the three wells that rise under Yggdrasil. According to Snorri’s Edda “Under the root that goes to the frost giants is the Well of Mimir. Wisdom and intelligence is hidden there”. In the Seeress’s Prophecy in the Poetic Edda, Odinn hid his eye there which he gave in exchange for wisdom.
Severed heads are a recurring theme in Celtic myth, often discussed in terms of a ‘cult of the head’ as in Anne Ross’ Pagan Celtic Britain. But here I see this as a sundering of Brân from Branwen who together embody the sovereignty of Ynys Prydain (see also notes to the previous post).
At the end of the second branch of the Four Branches of the Mabinogi, Brân’s head is cut off by his own instruction after he is wounded in the foot (in the Welsh tale of Peredur while the lamed King entertained him a severed head on a platter is carried through the room instead of a grail as in the Grail legends). Branwen dies of a broken heart and is buried, so is absent from the sojourn in Gwales over which the head of Brân presides.
Meanwhile the sovereignty of Ynys Prydain has been usurped and cannot be regained, so Manawydan in the Third branch cannot inherit and retreats with Pryderi to Dyfed. There he marries Rhiannon and restores sovereignty – by confronting an Otherworld adversary – on a different plane entirely from that of the secular power usurped by Caswallawn.
A honno oed tryded prif rieni yn yr ynys hon
(And she was one of the three great progenitors of this Island)
How far back before her story was told
Did she proffer the cup of sovereignty of the Island
Her giant brother – or other self – holding it as a cauldron
Before the spring which pulses beneath Loch Febuil flooded the fair plain
So that the one who plundered and the one who held the treasure became one
Long before the islands of Britain and Ireland were sundered
Before the wolf-grey seas rushed in and so they were separate
Brother and Sister in the legends of the land
(though he would be a bridge between them).
Who then sought sovereignty and where was its source?
Each of them buried deep in the Earth of the Island
Held it in safe keeping : She in a grave at Aber Alaw,
He under the White Mount where Arthur sought him
Taking the sovereignty to hold for his own:
The raid on the White Mount, the raid on Annwfn,
The raid for the Cauldron there and in Ireland
Retelling the story over and over again
(as Culhwch got Olwen and the Giant was vanquished)
Re-living the quest of Bran for the Cauldron
Beneath the spring where Branwen held it.
In the Welsh of the Second Branch of the Mabinogi Brân – or Bendigeidfran – is a giant and is brother to Branwen and Manawydan, offspring of Llŷr. Brân has a cauldron which came with another giant from under a lake in Ireland and is sent back to Ireland with Matholwch when he marries Branwen.
In the well-known Irish story of Bran Son of Febul he sets off in a ship to sail to the Otherworld and meets Manannan Mac Lir on the sea who directs him on his way.
The lesser known story about Bran Son of Febul is recounted in some verses recording an exchange between Febul’s Prophetess and Bran’s Druid. The druid recounts how he had a vision of treasure hidden under a spring and of Bran’s quest to recover it. The Prophetess tells of how beautiful the plain around the spring was before the treasure was taken and how the land was flooded because Bran’s expedition offended the female guardians of the spring. The resultant flood formed Loch Febuil, now known as Lough Foyle.
Arthur in the Welsh poem Preiddeu Annwn, from The Book of Taliesin, sails in his ship Prydwen to raid the Otherworld in search of treasure, in particular a cauldron. One of his men, Lleawc, thrusts his sword into the Cauldron. In the Welsh tale of Culhwch and Olwen, Arthur sails to Ireland to get a cauldron. One of his men, Llenlleawc, said himself to be an Irishmen, wielding Arthur’s sword, captures the Cauldron.
Brân’s head was buried beneath the White Mount to protect the Island of Britain. In one of the Welsh triads, Arthur is said to have dug up the head because he wanted to be the sole protector of the Island. So the symbol of sovereignty became the Crown.
The earliest surviving specific tale of the Grail is the unfinished 12th century story of Perceval (Conte de Graal) by the French Romance writer Chrétien de Troyes. Chrétien simply spoke of ‘a grail’; another french writer, Robert de Boron, later christianised this as ‘The Holy Grail’. Seeing the Grail as a Christian symbol led to it being identified as the communion cup used by Christ at the Last Supper. Such is the story attached to the wooden bowl also known as the Nanteos Cup, after a mansion in West Wales where it was kept for many years, though it had previously been the property of the nearby medieval abbey of Strata Florida. The cup has more recently been in the news after it was stolen but, since recovered, it is now in the possession of the National Library of Wales, where it is currently on display. I went to see it, though very little is left of it. It is easy to see how, in the later Middle Ages, such a cup should have attained this status as holy relics were the stock in trade of medieval monasteries and cathedrals, far more of them than could possibly be genuine. The relic itself is a symbol, metonymically representing the thing it purports to be or, perhaps, actually is.
But the communion cup, the dish of plenty, the cauldron of mystery have a far older lineage. Consider the words of Glenys Goetink who, in her study of the Welsh grail stories, asserts that, behind the Christian relic, the Grail “derives from one of the talismans found in the dwelling of the Otherworld god; it was of great significance in the ritual of conferring sovereignty upon the hero on the occasion of his visit to the Otherworld.” (*) This is certainly the implication of the story as told by Chrétien and in the parallel Welsh Romance Peredur. The Grail in Chrétien’s story is a dish held by a maiden in an episode in which the questing hero comes across a castle in a remote place. A bleeding lance is also carried through the room where he sits conversing with the lamed Fisher King. In the parallel scene in the Welsh story of Peredur the dish is a platter on which sits a severed head. In both cases Perceval/Peredur does not ask the meaning of the objects carried into the room. In Chrétien’s story Perceval awakes the next morning to find the castle empty and with only one way open for him to leave. After he has left he can’t go back and cannot find the castle again. In both stories the hero is later rebuked for not asking the question which would have healed the king, and then sets off to find the castle again. Chrétien’s tale is unfinished so we never know if Perceval eventually finds the castle. Peredur does find it after a random series of adventures which culminate in the killing, with Arthur’s help, of The Nine Witches of Gloucester.
There has been much speculation from different scholars about influences. It is likely that later medieval writers took the story from the French of Chrétien or his successors. Did Chrétien get his story from Brittany, from the same source as the anonymous Welsh author of Peredur, or were there different sources available to both of them? One certainly earlier possible source is the Irish story Baile in Scáil which several scholars have noticed contains parallel scenes to the episode of the visit to the Grail Castle. ‘Baile’ (modern Irish ‘buile’) means ‘frenzy’, though it is sometimes translated ‘ecstasy’ as in terms of the baile stories it describes the ecstatic frenzy which druids, female seers and other gifted people go into to gain visions or make prophecies, much as Giraldus Cambrensis describes the awenyddion in Wales. John Carey provides an extensive analysis of this tale and its possible links with the Grail stories. Here the frenzied visionary state is entered by a ‘phantom’ who turns out to be Lug, and a woman with a crown of gold who asks ‘to whom shall this cup be given?’. Carey says the following about the similarities between the two stories:
“In both, the protagonist comes upon a rich and mysterious stronghold, which is at first concealed from him. He is lavishly entertained by a gracious host, who seems to be identical with a figure who has acted as a guide earlier in the tale. A central part in the feast is played by a young woman who serves as custodian of a extra-ordinary golden vessel; and the apparition of the vessel is associated with the protagonist being served roasted meat. The question as to who it is whom this vessel serves is the pivot of both stories. After the feast, everything disappears: Perceval falls asleep, then wakes in an empty castle which he is unable to find again after he has left it; Conn passes ‘into the shadow’ of Lug, and is suddenly back in Tara.” (**).
Conn, unlike Perceval, is not found wanting and so his sovereignty, and that of his line backwards and forwards, is confirmed and no further searching, such as that undertaken in the later stories, is necessary. In the Welsh tale the situation is eventually resolved, though the significance of the episode gets lost in the series of other adventures it is mixed up with. In the French tale, and even more so in those that came after it, the quest of the Grail becomes an end in itself. That is it becomes a tale of sin and redemption in the best Christian tradition of the Middle Ages. It also becomes a symbol of purity, or the virtuousness of those who seek it. But what was the original cup of sovereignty that seems still to be fulfilling that function in the Irish story? Carey is suggestive in linking it with the role of the cup bearer as identified by Michael Enright (***) and so, possibly back to Rosmerta. Proinsias Mac Cana also refers to this story and identifies the cup bearer as ‘the Sovereignty of Ireland’, the personification of the land itself, who, coupled with Lug, “can scarcely be dissociated from the Gaulish monuments to Mercury and Rosmerta”.(****)
So is the Grail the Cup of Plenty, Rosmerta’s bounty, offered at the feast with its echoes in later tales of cup bearers, seers and the guardians of sacred wells? That will have to be another story.
* Glenys Goetink Peredur : A Study of Welsh Tradition in the Grail Legends (Cardiff, 1975)
** John Carey Ireland and The Grail (Aberystwyth, 2007)
*** M J Enright Lady With a Mead Cup (Dublin, 1995)
**** Proinsias Mac Cana Celtic Mythology (Hamlyn, 1983)
Is it the well Where the pool lies still Beneath the grill cover
Or the nearby falls
Where the stream fills
The air with living water?
I asked about the Broken Well. She said the well is not broken, cannot be broken, for water will flow where the will takes us.
I asked about the flood. She said it was good that there should be flood, that water should flow where the will takes us.
“Look not just at the well where water lies still, but think that it rises, pulses, deep below where strong currents flow that give life to the world.”
“Time taken here to reflect on stillness, the deep mirror of awen, is spirit time out of the flow of worldly time, but time runs freely like water in the world: run with it, go with the streams of waters through the world. Be such a stream as water teaches that you may be.”
“Living water is not still, not a clear pool such as these depths seem that you stare into, but alive deep down. Rising and falling as the will takes us. Do not lose yourself in the stillness, though it is here for you when you need it. Find what is below, what rises to flow through the world which is threaded with living water, beaded with drops on land and in air as well as where the rivers run.”
“My wells are everywhere. I keep each one and guide the waters. Be with me often as you go your ways through the world and I will touch you with a blessing of living water, as the will takes us.”
Do we need to re-assess the status of Arthur in British mythic and legendary history? I am prompted to ask that question after reading Lorna Smithers ‘ The Broken Cauldron , although it has for some time been an emerging theme in her blog output and her literary work in the service of her patron god Gwyn ap Nudd in her previous book Enchanting the Shadowlands.
Arthur, according to one of the Welsh Triads, decided to dig up Bran’s head at the White Mount thereby removing the older protector of Ynys Prydain (and his mythological sway) because he wanted none but himself to be the defender of Britain. Lorna’s view of Arthur certainly sees him in this light, but concentrates on the significance of his raid on Annwn and the carrying of of the Cauldron of Rebirth from that place as related in the poem ‘Preiddeu Annwn’ in The Book of Taliesin. Her reconstruction of early Brythonic material is mythically innovative and inspired. Much of the material containing the Arthurian stories which developed into the romance cycles of the later Middle Ages might be called legendary history, following the narrative of the Historia Brittonum and other sources in Latin such as Geoffrey of Monmouth and detailing how Arthur led the resistance of the romanized Britons to the Saxon invasions. Here Arthur is the Dux Bellorum or leader of the warbands. But Lorna goes back, rather, to the mythic Welsh material where his activities include the raid on the Otherworld to capture the Cauldron and the hunt of a magical boar. What Arthur does here is not simply to act as a legendary hero but as a moving force in changing the mythic life of Britain. What Lorna attempts, then, is nothing less than a reclaiming of that earlier mythic layer with Gwyn ap Nudd rather than Arthur as the central protagonist. To do this she does not simply attempt to re-construct the myths, but to recreate them as part of a personal quest which is initiatory in its intensity. The public expression of that quest is contained in her published work such as the book under review putting it in the public domain and therefore available to enrich the common mythos for other Brythonic polytheists.
Arthur’s raid on Annwn and the act of one of his men, Lleawg, in pushing his sword into the Cauldron can be seen as a defining moment in mythic reconfiguring. The Cauldron is traditionally seen as being in the keeping of Ceridwen. Lorna is an awenydd who finds her awen in the impulse to offer Gwyn ap Nudd the poems, tales and other writings which he inspires in her. The source of the awen is traditionally the Cauldron of Ceridwen as featured in the tale of Taliesin but also as perceived by the earliest Welsh bards as the source of their inspiration. For Lorna Ceridwen is ‘Old Mother Universe’, the divine source of all life which is cyclically re-born from the Cauldron of Rebirth.
In updating this mythic material for our own times Lorna conceives the Cauldron by analogy with various modern artefacts such as the vats producing the chemicals which fuel modern industry. Just as, in the story of Taliesin, inspiration was gained from a few drops of the Cauldron’s brew, the remaining poisonous liquid running off to pollute streams and rivers, so modern chemical and energy production and the destructive environmental effects of this are seen by analogy as a deluge from the Broken Cauldron following Arthur’s raid on Annwn to capture it.
I have singled out one thread of Lorna’s thematic narrative here, but there is much more, including as she does that other mythic deluge from the broken well of Mererid and the tales of drowned lands both in Gwyddno Garanhir’s Borth, where Taliesin was discovered in a weir by Elffin, and the location of it in her native Lancashire where the submerged harbour of Portus Setantiorum offers another location for the story.
In the final section on nuclear power, Arthur’s legacy of the Broken Cauldron finds its ultimate expression in the image of a leaking reactor and of meltdown of the reactor core. Here the mix of poems, creative prose and factual information combines in what might be taken as an awenydd‘s pessimistic prediction of the future. Does the final image, then, of Old Mother Universe falling asleep indicate an end or a new beginning? The Awenydd‘s words are always open to interpretation. The future lies also in our hands and Lorna’s inspired mythic re-imaginings should also be taken as words of warning. Will they be heeded?