'Gods and culture in traffic:

Virgil's Aeneid and the Imtheachta

Aeniasa (a medieval Irish vernacular

translation of the Aeneid).'

Voyaging abroad to return home.

Eorann O’Connor, King’s College.

Part II Thesis.

2014

Word count: 9, 980.

1

“The life God grants me now

is bare and strait;

I am haggard, womanless,

and cut off from music.”

Sweeney Astray, by Séamus Heaney, §40

The Fifth Century marks the beginning of a radical shift in

Irish cultural practice, its catalyst the influence of

incoming Christian ideology, encoded in a Latin alphabet and

cultural heritage. The diffusion of Christianity initiated

change in the creation and transmission of native saga,

history, genealogy and law. With the Christianisation of

Ireland came developments within the vernacular literary

tradition, both predicated on a pre-existing, highly-organised

intellectual tradition and in turn affecting the progression

of literary practices. “The very gradual introduction of

literacy in Ireland, with the Irish themselves as agents,

provides an explanation not only for the tenacity of the oral

medium (for instance in land law and the workings of

rulership), but also for the important place accorded to the

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vernacular in the written culture from c.600 AD onwards.”1 It

is against this multi-layered background that we must

understand Imtheachta Aeniasa (‘The Wanderings of Aeneas’), the

twelfth-century Irish translation of Virgil’s Aeneid, which may

be the earliest vernacular translation of the Aeneid in

existence.2 How distinctly Irish is this medieval

interpretation of pagan epic narrative? How does the notion

between “the indigenous and the imported culture” play out?3

Does the notion of such a conflict help us understand the

choices the translator makes?

Before the introduction of Christianity, Irish native

heritage was passed down orally through generations by the

Irish filid, a class of highly-trained poets firmly embedded in

the command structure of Irish society through their intimate

connection with the ruling powers.4 Functioning as oral

archivists of Irish history, legal title,5 genealogy and

mythology, the filid were also the publicists and speechmakers

of the ruling elite, shaping the public image of the ruling

clans through praise poems and providing the legitimacy of 1 Edel, 2001: 11; Johnston considers the notion of a rapid conversion of the elite to Christianity as “a most unlikely victory”, one which would imply that Christianity in Ireland managed to entirely expunge meaningful native tradition. She suggests Ireland was no different to the rest of the Christian West, where conversion was “a process rather than a single event.” 2013: 17-18; see also, Dillon and Chadwick, 1967: 151.2 Stanford, 1970: 37.3 Edel, 2001: 20.4 Jackson 1964: 26; Ó Cathasaigh, in Kelleher and O’Leary, 2006: 20.5 The eighth-century compiler of the largest Irish legal text, Senchas Már, wrote that Irish law was preserved orally by “the joint memory of the ancients, the transmission from one ear to another, the chanting of the poets.” (Ancient Laws of Ireland Vol. 1 30.24-6). Binchy observes “a hard core of pre-Christian institutions” beneath the Christian phraseology of such law tracts and, in comparison with Anglo-Saxan laws, a certain “obstinate refusal to conform to Christian teaching.” 1943: 26.

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those in power through their knowledge of Irish genealogy.6 The

etymology of the Old Irish word fili (plural filid), from the Proto-

Celtic *widluios (seer, one who sees),7 suggests that their role

was originally divinatory and, like the Homeric bard,

functioned as religious prophet, genealogist, historian and

storyteller.8 This class of highly trained, powerful

professionals played a crucial part in the integration of

indigenous Irish and Christian-Latin cultures.9

Their presence is a major factor in the introduction of

literacy to Ireland, occurring in parallel with the

introduction of Christianity, both gradual processes which

signalled an explosion of literacy and a flowering of the

vernacular in the written culture from the seventh century AD

onwards. This period in Irish history produced, in addition to

a very substantial corpus of Latin literature, “the most

extensive and diverse vernacular literature of the Europe of

that time,”10 one “firmly rooted in ancient myth and [which]

remains robustly pagan in character.”11 The creation and

survival of that vernacular literature is evidence of early

6 Edel, 2001: 112-3; Johnston, 2013: 17; Myrick, 1993: 55.7 Greene et al., 2012: 487-488; Jackson, 1964: 24.8 Binchy, 1943: 13, writes of the filid as “credited with supernatural wisdomand powers”; Edel, 2001: 162-3, and Jackson, 1964: 27, discuss the functionof the filid as prophets in Irish native literature e.g. the fili prophetess Fedelm in the Táin.9 Edel, 2001: 29; Ó Cathasaigh describes the filid and clerics exercising their respective roles “within a single literary and scholarly establishment.” Ó Cathasaigh, in Kelleher and O’Leary, 2006: 20.10 ibid., 2001: 11; Watkins wrote of Ireland’s vernacular literature as the oldest in Europe; the earliest monuments of which go back to the sixth century and yet it is “not the beginnings of a literature that we see then,but the full flowering of a long tradition, pre-Christian, pre-literate anduninfluenced by the Greco-Roman world.” 1963: 21711 Ó Cathasaigh, in Ní Chatháin and Richter, 1984: 291.

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Irish churchmen’s deep involvement with and openness to the

pre-Christian lore of their country.12

The oral tradition of the filid entered into ecclesiastical

establishments and was for the first time written down, fusing

together pagan and Christian, oral and literate. We see this

in the production of the Ulster Cycle of secular tales and

legends written in a mixture of verse and vernacular prose

including Táin Bó Cúailnge (‘The Cattle-raid of Cooley’), which

holds a position in Irish literature comparable to that of the

Iliad in Greek.13 Set in the heroic age of the pre-Christian

aristocracy, the Táin is the oldest epic tale of Western

Europe14 and was recorded from the oral tradition between the

eighth and eleventh centuries in monastic settings. The

recorders of such sagas adopted, in general, the linguistic

and expository techniques established by the glossators of

Late Latin texts whilst also transcribing and retaining

archaic passages derived from oral tradition.15 As Johnston

writes, “it is very likely that the maintenance of a distinct

linguistic identity, in this case through Irish, almost a priori

ensured a significant degree of cultural continuity.”16

Recording of Ireland’s indigenous oral tradition occurred

simultaneously with the translating of the Latin-Christian

literary tradition into the Irish vernacular literary corpus.

Texts including Statius’ Thebaid, Virgil’s Aeneid and Lucan’s

12 ibid.: 296.13 Jackson, 2011: 2; Edel, 2001: 31.14 Dunn, 1914: xviii.15 Binchy, 1979-80: 39.16 2013: 18.

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Pharsalia were translated into Irish alongside looser

adaptations of classical works such as Merugud Uilix Meic Leirtis

(‘The Wanderings of Odysseus son of Laertes’) and Togail Troí

(‘The Destruction of Troy’), based on the Odyssey and Dares’ De

Excidio Troiae respectively. These works formed part of a corpus

of classical adaptations written during the High Middle Ages

in Ireland and the continent. In addition to the Irish

adaptations are the twelfth-century French Le Roman de Troie,

Roman d'Enéas and Roman de Thèbes and the thirteenth-century

Spanish Libro de Alexandre and Italian Historia destructionis Troiae. In

contrast to their continental counterparts, the Irish

translations of classical works are more restrained in their

Christianising. Miles highlights this contrast suggesting that

“Irish interest in the poets and their ancient commentators

was unusually secular in character and sensitive to aesthetic

qualities of classical literature.”17 Through analysis of

Imtheachta Aeniasa I will ask whether this “unusually secular”

interest in the classics pertains to an awareness of a pre-

Christian oral cultural inheritance. Furthermore, I will

question whether there is, in the Irish Aeneid, evidence of a

distinct Irish literary sensibility, derived in part from its

pre-Christian linguistic inheritance, as from a post-Christian

adoption of continental tradition. Finally, I will look at the

choices the Irish author makes in his dealings with Virgil’s

pagan text: where he omits, where he retains and where he

makes crucial ideological adjustments.

17 2011: 7.

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The encounter with Virgilian classicism, the imperatives

of Christian revisionism and the liminal significance of Irish

epic narrative combine within the craft of translation where

the exchange becomes imbued with dimensions of literary style,

practice, value and tradition. The dynamics of historical

development place stresses on the discursive function of the

language.18 The translator’s skilful manipulation of

associations and epic tropes (as I will examine) are witness

to the evolving ideologies. More skilful still is the subtle

maintenance of indigenous aesthetic values, seen at the most

intimate level, for instance, in the use of rhythm and

alliteration. The focus on consonants and rhythmical

repetition intensifies the dramatic presence of characters. It

also homes in on the act of expression – the orality of the

word, the power of utterance. In line with what Paul Muldoon,

former Oxford Professor of Poetry, identifies as a “central

tenet of the Irish imagination”,19 the translator moves between

contiguous worlds. Muldoon points to an urge in ancient poetry

“towards the cryptic, the encoded, the runic, the virtually

unintelligible”,20 as strategies devised by a range of Irish

writers “for dealing with the ideas of liminality and

narthecality”21 central to the Irish historical experience.

18 Foucault, 2003: chapter 5.19 2000: 6.20 2000: 5; Furthermore, Dillon and Chadwick describe the rhetorical style bélre na filed (‘language of the poets’) as “marked by deliberate obscurity”, many passages of which still defy interpretation. (1967: 18)21 2000: 5. Muldoon uses ‘narthecality’ to describe being near the edges orboundaries. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, ‘narthex’, from ancient Greek νάρθηξ , came into use in the third century AD denoting the church forecourt. The image seems particularly apt to the discussion of my thesis, the attempt to reposition the Irish pagan tradition whilst engagingwith the theoretic architecture of the new religion.

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I: Dilemmas of characterisation

Imtheachta Aeniasa is preserved in its most complete form in the

c. 1390 Book of Ballymote but linguistic evidence suggests the

translation was itself made much earlier.22 Murphy writes, “A

cursory examination of the language … and proper names … of

the Irish Aeneid leads to the conclusion that it was written

before the middle of the twelfth century and was based

directly on the original Latin.”23 In general, the text adheres

so faithfully to the original Latin that any divergences from

Virgil’s text stand in stark relief from the original and

promise to repay in-depth examination for evidence of the

translator’s concerns.

Imtheachta begins not as the Aeneid does in medias res,

commencing instead with a prologue depicting an assembly of

Greek generals deliberating the fate of the traitors Aeneas

and Antenor. In the opening lines of the translation both the

structure and thematic material of Virgil’s Aeneid are

dramatically altered: a prologue that bears no relation to the

beginning of the Aeneid is inserted, introducing the theme of

Aeneas traditor, a fundamental divergence from Virgil’s text.

Tracing the Aeneas legend back through antiquity it is clear

that ambiguities surrounding Aeneas were addressed by a

variety of authors spanning nearly fourteen centuries, all of

whom seem to suggest tensions surrounding Aeneas.

22 Murphy, 1932; Kobus, 1995.23 1932: 372.

8

The surviving lines of the Iliou persis contain the earliest

account of Aeneas and his followers departing Troy before its

collapse: “The Trojans were suspicious of the wooden horse and

standing round it debated what they ought to do … But at this

very time two serpents appeared and destroyed Laocoon and one

of his two sons, a portent which so alarmed the followers of

Aeneas that they withdrew to Ida. Sinon then raised the fire-

signal to the Achaeans, having previously got into the city by

pretence.”24 In the earliest reference to Aeneas’ departure

from Troy he and his followers flee to Mount Ida before Troy’s

actual fall, seemingly due to their doubts at the portent of

the two serpents. Similarly in Sophocles’ Laocoon, via Dionysius

of Halicarnassus: “Sophocles… represents Aeneas, just before

the taking of the city, as removing his household to Mount Ida

in obedience to the orders of his father.”25 The idea of

preservation of father and sacra, a motif familiar from Virgil,

is repeated in Xenophon’s Cynegeticus, except here the Greeks

grant Aeneas safety.26 Yet, prior to the various depictions of

Aeneas being spared by the Greeks due to his eusebeia, is an

earlier fragment. Fifth-century Hellanicus, preserved in

Dionysius, sees Aeneas collaborating with one Greek in

particular, Odysseus. 27 Dionysius remarks that Damastes of

24 in Hesiod, Homeric Hymns, Epic Cycle, Homerica, pp. 520-1, Frag. 1.25 1.47.2.26 “Aeneas saved the gods of his father's and his mother's family … wherefore he bore away fame for his piety, so that to him alone among all the vanquished at Troy even the enemy granted not to be despoiled”. (1.15) The notion of the Greeks permitting Aeneas’ survival is found again in Lycophron (1261-9), Diodorus Siculus (7.4) and Aelian (3.22).27 “… [Hellanicus] says that Aeneas came into Italy from the land of the Molossian with Odysseus, and became the founder of the city, which he namedafter Romê, one of the Trojan women.” 1.72.2.

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Sigeum and others agree with Hellanicus’ account,28 which

suggests, if correct, that Hellanicus’ fragment represents the

earliest known version of the founding of Rome.29 That possibly

the earliest extant representation of Rome’s founding joins

Aeneas with Odysseus (Greek champion of the Trojan War,

deviser of the Trojan horse stratagem), may have presented

problems for a Roman audience reading Hellanicus in the Roman

Antiquities. Furthermore, a fragment of the fourth-century

historian Menecrates states that Aeneas, out of hatred for

Paris, betrayed Troy and saved his household30; implications of

hostility between Aeneas and the Trojan dynasty which may also

be read in the Iliad.31 Such variants on the Aeneas tradition

present inconsistency between pious Aeneas, a prince of Troy

at the time of its sack, and Aeneas as the independent ruler

of the Trojan survivors, an opposition which for a Roman

audience, living under Augustus and fully invested in Aeneas

as a founding figure, would have been problematic.32

The pseudepigraphal, allegedly-eyewitness, accounts of

Dictys’ fourth-century Ephemeris belli Troiani and Dares’ sixth-

century De Excidio Troiae historia, both enjoyed particular success in

the medieval period inspiring a myriad of medieval vernacular

versions of the Troy story. In both accounts, Aeneas and 28 ibid.29 Dekel, 2012: 90.30 “Aeneas betrayed the city to the Achaeans out of hatred for Alexander andthat because of this service he was permitted by them to save his household… till Ilium was taken by the aid of Aeneas, who delivered it up to them. For Aeneas, being scorned by Alexander and excluded from his prerogatives, overthrew Priam … and became one of the Achaeans.” 1.48.3-4.31 “For ever was Aeneas wroth against goodly Priam, for that brave though hewas amid warriors Priam honoured him not a whit.” 13.461; Similarly, 20.179-183. See Galinsky, 1969: 47.32 See Galinsky, 1969: 61.

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Antenor play fundamental roles in aiding the Greeks to

victory,33 a theme inaugurated in the Imtheachta prologue with

Aeneas and Antenor named the traitors who delivered up Troy:

“… and while there fell by them a multitude of our kings and

chiefs and battle-soldiers, they fell by us to a man … save

only the traitors, Aeneas and Antenor, with their followers.”34

Reorganising the structure of the Aeneid, the author moves

immediately from the Aeneas traditor theme in the prologue to

Aeneid 3, Aeneas’ encounter with Polydorus (killed by brother-

in-law, Polymestor, in betrayal of King Priam), making Aeneid 3

the first book the Irish author adapts and continuing the

treason theme established in the prologue. This is the only

time where the order of Virgil’s books is restructured, a

conscious choice, it would seem, to reorganise Virgil’s work

in line with thematic purposes. Polydorus tells Aeneas to

leave the deceitful and fratricidal land of Thrace (“Fagaib in

tir fealltach finghalach”),35 a phrase imbued with dramatic

irony considering Aeneas’ deceitful betrayal of Troy which

dominates the Imtheachta’s prologue.36

Choosing to depict Aeneas as a traitor the Irish author

could be interpreted as enabling Christian ideas of betrayal,

seen in figures such as Judas and Lucifer, to form within the

translation.37 Through a pattern of translatio imperii Aeneas’ 33 As Galinsky notes Dares’ and Dictys’ accounts are not isolated instances but part of the post-Virgilian literature which is critical of Aeneas and openly raises the question of Aeneas’ treason. 1969:48. 34 35-40.35 83.36 For Aeneas’ role as city destroyer see Putnam, 2011: chapters 3 and 4.37 Contemporary texts such as Le Roman de Troie identify Antenor with Judas (“li cuiverz Judas”, “wretched Judas” 26135), and Aeneas with Satan, following their betrayal of Troy; Spence, in Farrell and Putnam, 2010: 137-

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treacherous actions as the cause of Troy’s fall, out of which

Rome is born, might have resonated with Judas’ betrayal,

causing the death of Jesus, leading to his resurrection and

the rise of Christianity.38 And yet for all that the counter-

tradition of a treacherous Aeneas grew particularly strong in the

Middle Ages,39 Virgil’s epic maintained an ongoing presence,

from Augustine to Dante and beyond; Virgil’s Aeneas as hero

and founder of the Roman nation remained the primary version

with Aeneas retaining his “cachet as pious hero, adapting to

its new Christian surroundings as pietas is replaced by piety.”40

Medieval Europe was thus faced with two contradictory versions

of the Aeneas tale co-existing side by side.

The question remains of whether Ireland’s deeply-rooted

literary heritage also contributed to the characterisation of

classical hero Aeneas. Alongside consideration of Aeneas’

characterisation as an alignment with that of Judas, another

possibility arises when Aeneas proditor is compared with the hero

traitor Fergus, famous Ulster warrior of the Táin. In the poem

Conailla Medb míchuru, (‘Medb enjoined in illegal contracts’),

attributed to Luccreth moccu Chíara, c.600,41 the war between

Ulster and Connaught is caused by the treason Fergus commits

in joining Queen Medb of Connaught and attacking his own land,

resulting in exile by King Conchobar of Ulster. The poem

8.38 Writing on Dares and Dictys, Spence suggests, “The fall of Troy via the treachery (rather than pietas) of the national hero affords a mechanism for representing not only the fall of the ancient world, but the rise of a future nation as well.” In Farrell and Putnam, 2010: 145.39 Baswell, 1995: 18.40 Spence, in Farrell and Putnam, 2010: 137.41 Carney, in Mac Eoin et al., 1983: 113-30.

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describes the story as sen-eolas (‘old knowledge’), an

indication perhaps that the events and characters of the Táin

belonged to an oral tradition before it was committed to

writing. Furthermore, in the probably twelfth-century42 poem

Clann Ollaman uaisle Emna (‘Children of Ollam are the nobles of

Emain’), famous Ulster and Trojan warriors are assimilated:

Priam to Conchobar, Troilus to Cú Chulainn, Paris to Naíse,

Hector to Conall Cernach and Aeneas to Fergus.43 Interestingly,

the poem links Aeneas and Fergus through exile (“Fergus Énias

re luad loingse”, “Fergus is Aeneas where exile is

considered”),44 an implication that Aeneas’ exile from Troy

(and it is assumed that the poet is referring to the Aeneas

traditor tradition) equals Fergus’ exile from Ulster and

betrayal of his fellow Ulstermen. What surfaces from analysis

of Imtheachta’s Aeneas is the possibility of other dimensions of

historical realities working within the translation.

After Imtheachta’s prologue depicts Aeneas as traitor, the

author proceeds to transform Aeneas into “an Irish warrior of

heroic proportions”,45 thus giving rise to inconsistencies if a

wholly Christian interpretation of Aeneas’ character were to

be taken. Aeneas is described thus “Pleasant, comely, lovely,

and well-born was the hero that came there – fair, yellow,

golden hair upon him; a beautiful ruddy face he had; eyes

deepset, lustrous in his head like an image of a god” (“Mong

42 Poppe and Schlueter, in Hoofnagle and Keller, 2011: 132.43 Poppe writes of the keen awareness among the medieval Irish literati of the similarities between classical and their own pre-Christian heroes. 1995: 28.44 62.45 Zdansky in Handy and Ó Conchubhair, 2013: 48; Ahl in Warren, 1989: 182.

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findbuidi fororda fair, gnuis caem corcurda aigi, ruisc

cochlacha caindelta ina chind cosmail re delb ndea”.)46

Influenced by Virgil’s own description of Venus’

transformation of Aeneas – the light upon his godlike head and

shoulders, the rosy glow of youth and his eyes of joyful fire47

– still, the reference to Aeneas’ “fair, yellow, golden hair”

is an addition.48 As Griffith notes, Virgil does not tell us

whether Aeneas is dark or fair etc., leaving a rather “vague

and indeterminate … portrayal of Aeneas’ personal

appearance.”49 The specific attention to detail in hair colour

may suggest influence from descriptions of Irish warriors such

as Cú Chulainn in the Táin, a heroic figure lauded for his

unswerving loyalty50: “Each long loose-flowing strand hung down

in shining splendour over his shoulders, deep-gold and

beautiful and fine as a thread of gold … and seven bright

pupils, eye-jewels, in each kingly eye.”51

Moreover, in the Irish heroic tradition, warriors are

often “characterised by a prodigious or superhuman sign: a ray

or a halo of light springing from, or lying above, their

heads.”52 Termed lúan láith, this “hero’s light”53 is found in

descriptions of Cú Chulainn in the Táin54 and Togail Troí in the

46 358-350.47 “Restitit Aeneas claraque in luce refulsit, / os umerosque deo similis; namque ipsa decoram / caesariem nato genetrix lumenque iuventae / purpureumet laetos oculis adflarat honores” 1.588-591.48 By contrast, Dares describes Aeneas as “auburn-haired”, 12. 10-11.49 1985: 309.50 Ní Mhaonaigh in Kelleher & O’Leary, 2006: 51.51 1199-1204; similar examples found at 2140-1, 3474-5, 3718, 4302-3.52 Camponile, in Jazayery et al. 1988: 89.53 trans. by O’Rahilly.54 “lond láith” 236; “lónd láith” 2289-2290.

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form lonna láith used of the luminescence of Troilus.55 Yet

scholars identify lúan láith as of Indo-European heritage,56 with

parallels found in Homer, Virgil and Livy.57 Returning to the

Imtheachta passage above, the word “caindelta”,58 from

‘caindeldae’ (‘like a candle’, ‘bright’, ‘shining’), is used

to describe the luminous glow of Aeneas’ head, emphasised by

the alliteration of ‘f’ and ‘c’. The word ‘caindeldae’, from

Old Irish ‘caindel’, is itself derived from the Latin

‘candela’ (‘candle’), an example of the introduction of Latin

loan words into the Irish vernacular vocabulary. And yet

‘candela’ has the added symbolic significance associated with

Christian religious practice, subliminally it takes the reader

inside the church, it cuts the heroic supernatural halo down

to a prosaic church artefact.59

A similar formula describes Aeneas’ rage after hearing of

Pallas’ death, again linking Aeneas to warriors from Irish

mythological saga, using stock similes also found in Homeric

passages: “[Aeneas’] spirit and power rose in him, and his

anger and his hero’s valour and his bird of valour rose so

that it was hovering over his head. The wrath of a serpent was

the wrath of Aeneas … His was a soldier’s spirit, and a lion’s

55 32509. 56 Camponile, in Jazayery et al. 1988: 91; Murphy, 1955: 29, n. 44.57 Iliad 18.205-6, 225-7; Ab Urbe Condita 1.39, Aeneid 2.679f.; 7.71-8.58 349.59 The use of “caindelta” might also be said to link Aeneas/Cú Chulainn withChrist: Sixth-century Magnus Felix Ennodius used the candle as exemplar of a trinity of meanings: rush-wick as product of pure water, wax as the offspring of the virgin and bees in the flame as sent from heaven. (Opusc. ix, x). Similarly, thirteenth-century Durandus, in his Rationale, interpretedthe wax as symbolic of the body of Christ, the wick as his soul, the flame as his divine nature and the consuming candle as symbolic of his passion and death.

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power, a hero’s valour, a warrior’s strength … plying them

like a mad ox whom valour lashes … like a lion fiercely

strong.”60 The stock phrase én gaile61 ‘bird of war-fury’ –

another, more enigmatic, name for the hero’s light62 – is

often applied to warriors of Irish mythological saga such as

in the eighth-century, or earlier,63 death-tale of Cú Chulainn,

where “a fluttering bird of valour (i.e. warrior’s light) [is]

above the champion of the single chariot.”64 O’Nolan notes that

such functional phrases, used by scribes to narrate tales

within a highly stylised sonic and semantic framework, are

characteristic of oral style surfacing in medieval texts.65 The

use of formulae in Imtheachta as a stylistic device of

storytelling is, it would appear, indebted to the oral

tradition of pre-Christian Ireland. That the Irish author was

aware of this is perhaps shown in his employment of the word

“caindelta”, symbolic of both the inherited technique of the

filid and the imported religion of Christianity.

In a clear divergence from Virgil, the Irish author

recasts Tarchon, king of the Tyrrhenians, as an Irish druí.66 In

60 2565-2572. Compare in the Iliad Achilles described as a lion, 20.164-175 and Hector as a snake, 22.93-5.Furthermore, in the thirteenth- or fourteenth-century poem ‘The chase of Síd na mBan Finn’, the hero Finn’s “… spirits grew high and his courage rose … so that his bird of valour arose over the breath of the royal warrior … and he went among them and through them and over them like a fierce furiousox that has been badly beaten, or like a lion whose young have been wounded.” (In Fianaigecht, §40).61 2567.62 Campanile, in Jazayery et al., 1988: 91.63 Pokorny, 1921: 123.64 “Énblaith (.i. lón gaile) etarlúamnach úasa erra óencha(i)rpait” (in The Death of Cú Chulainn, 19).65 1969: 234-5.66 2375, 2392.

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a speech made to convince the Etruscans to hand over

leadership to Aeneas, Tarchon depicts Aeneas in exactly the

same terms as warriors from Irish saga67:

“Is uaitni catha, ocus is ord esoir gni ocus bruiti bidbad, is

sgiaath ditin ocus imdeghla crichi ocus feraind, is cur crodha

cosgarthach, cathbuadhach, co mbruth ocus co mbrigh ocus co

mborrfadh, co med ocus miadh ocus maisi, co mini ocus co

mordacht ocus co m-maccaemdacht, co cruth ocus co cell ocus co

cenel, go ngais ocus go ngail ocus go ngaisgidh. Ocus is drech

ollumun ocus is gnuis righ lais ocus is coir fregra maith do

thabairt fair.”68

“He is a pillar of battle, a hammer for smiting and bruising

foes, a shield for guarding and protecting territory and land,

a brave triumphant, battle-victorious hero, of spirit, force,

pride: of size, honour, beauty; of gentleness, majesty, youth;

of comeliness, sense, birth; of valour, and prowess; and he

has the face of a sage, and the countenance of a king; and it

is right to give him a good answer.”69

Recast as a druí, from whom the Etruscans seek advice,

Tarchon takes on the role of a pagan prophet (Old Irish druí –

‘seer’) or perhaps even a fili. The speech is extremely

emphatic, with its build-up of adjectives and pattern of

alliteration in the repetitions of ‘c’, ‘mb-’, ‘m’ and ‘ng-’.

A development in prose style and narrative technique in the

twelfth century incorporated elaborate epithet systems, 67 Similar passages found in the Táin: 654-659, 727-8, 1614-6.68 2384-2391.69 See Appendix 1 for stark similarities of rhetorical embellishments in theTáin and Imtheachta.

17

alliterative dyads and triads and descriptive runs; all of

which, as O’Nolan points out, gave the texts an unmistakably

oral ring, the overall effect being to impart the measured

pace and aural cohesion that hexameters gave to Homer.70

Furthermore, the rhetorical features of rhythm and

alliteration may indicate a praise poem approach – praise

poetry being a significant part of the filid repertoire71 – thus

denoting Tarchon as the fili of Aeneas. Edel describes how the

filid “shaped the public image of the rulers with their praise

poems and satires”, comparing them to the modern day media.72

An allusion to either the druids or filid of pre-Christian

Ireland may suggest a possible incorporation, on the part of

the Irish author, of aspects of the indigenous culture.73 For

instance, the author applies stylistic features which are

strongly identified with the highest aesthetic demands of the

bardic tradition, primarily when he is dealing with

descriptive panegyric passages concerning Aeneas or other

classical heroes. This again signals a valuing of the

indigenous style, and, since it does not emulate Virgil’s

approach (i.e. the description of Aeneas from Aeneid 1 contains

no alliteration; the Tarchon episode is only loosely based on

passages from the Aeneid), it is an original addition which may

indicate an aesthetic sensibility.

70 O’Nolan, 1969: 1-19; Poppe, 1995: 19-22; Dillon and Chadwick describe thefilid poems as “characterised by elaborate ornament” with alliteration a typical marker of their poetic style. 1967: 18.71 Ó Cathasaigh, in Kelleher and O’Leary, 2006: 18.72 2001: 96.73 Ó Cathasaigh, in Kelleher and O’Leary, notes the filid’s role as purveyor of praise and blame as inherited from pre-Christian times. 2006: 20.

18

The earliest preserved Irish poetry dates from the sixth

century74 and consists of alliterative syllabic verse in praise

of famous men or in lament of a dead hero. Irish sagas such as

the Táin are written predominantly in prose and yet passages of

lament, of praise or when a champion claims his right to the

Hero’s Portion (equivalent to the Iliad’s κλέα ἀνδρῶν) are in

verse. Watkins demonstrates how Irish heroic verse has a

common origin with Greek and Vedic metres and thus holds an

ancient Indo-European inheritance.75 That Tarchon, in the form

of a druí, presents a highly alliterative encomium, similar to

the praise speeches of Irish heroic verse, which contrasts

with the surrounding prose, may be suggestive of certain

sensibilities preserved from the Irish oral tradition, which

in turn may well have its origins in oral epic from Central

Asia.76 As Dillon and Chadwick suggest, the evidence of the old

Indo-European form surviving in Irish literature into the

Middle Ages is evidence of the great archaism of Irish

tradition.77

Virgil’s handling of the contradictions inherent in

Aeneas’ characterisations is at variance with Imtheachta’s and

carries the mark of his unique authorial style. It should be

seen, however, in the context of a long tradition of

ambivalence regarding the Trojan hero. Since the ambiguities

74 1967: 217.75 Watkins, 1963: 194ff.76 Ó Cathasaigh, in Ní Chatháin and Richter, considers that “If Irish literature contains survivals from Celtic and Indo-European culture – and the comparative evidence shows that it does – then clearly these elements must have been transmitted orally until such time as they were transferred into the written record.” 1984: 294.77 Dillon and Chadwick, 1967: 260.

19

within the Aeneas legend are traceable to perhaps as early as

the eighth century BC, the contradictions within Aeneas’

character as both pious survivor and betrayer of Troy were

already available to fifth-century BC historians. Virgil,

while creating his foundation myth which upheld Aeneas as the

forefather of the Roman Empire, was also challenged by the

tensions within the Aeneas legend. Virgil depicts the ghost of

Hector in a dream visitation urging Aeneas to flee Troy

(‘“heu! fuge, nate dea, teque his,” ait, “eripe flammis. /

hostis habet muros …”’)78 and goes on to portray Aeneas as torn

between his opposing responsibilities of staying and fighting

in Troy and responding to the call of a higher mission. The

only way Aeneas could contemplate quitting Troy as it is

sacked is if he is called away not only by a prophetic dream

but by the shade of a great Trojan hero who tells him that

Troy entrusts in him its household gods which he must take as

he seeks the mighty city which he will establish.79 And even

this is only the first in a long line of dispensations offered

Aeneas through the intricate course of his apologetic story of

the Sack. Virgil deals with the ambiguities surrounding

Aeneas’ flight from Troy by overloading his story with so many

episodes of legitimation, blocking but implicitly

acknowledging contradictions in the Aeneas legend which would

have implied the very opposite of heroic courage expected by

Virgil’s audience of the founder of future Rome.

The variance in handling of Aeneas’ heroic ambiguities in

Imtheachta raises the possibility of influence of pre-Virgilian 78 2.289-290.79 2.294-5.

20

approaches more in alignment stylistically with the Irish pre-

Christian oral tradition. Just as Aeneas can be seen to

emulate a pre-Christian Irish warrior, so too, he may be

viewed in respect of his traitor emblem signifying an older

tradition “which did not spring up in reply to Vergil…, but

had its roots in the pre-Vergilian literary tradition.”80 Both

depictions of Aeneas from antiquity are presented in the

Imtheachta: the traitor (perhaps in the shape of Judas/Fergus)

and the hero of Rome (perhaps in the shape of Cú Chulainn).

The conflict within the characterisations of Aeneas may

represent conflicts inherent in the author. (Notably, William

Empson’s fourth type of ambiguity occurs “when two or more

meanings of a statement do not agree among themselves, but

combine to make clear a more complicated state of mind in the

author.”)81 In the case of the Imtheachta, the incongruity may

represent a conflict between the author’s desire to produce a

translation of the Aeneid faithful to Virgil’s pagan text and

an equal desire to stay true to his Christian faith.

Furthermore, the notable markers of Irish saga – elaborate

system of alliteration, use of imagery typical of native Irish

warriors – which may have come directly from the pre-Christian

oral tradition, may also suggest a further layering of the

Irish author’s indigenous inheritance. The ambiguities within

Aeneas’ character, then, may represent both the author and the

text itself, a text which deals with the Irish vernacular and

Latin verse, orality and literacy, pagan and Christian,

indigenous and imported.

80 Galinsky, 1969: 48.81 2004: 133.

21

II: Semantic Dilemmas

Historically, Virgil’s great Roman epic was written in a

period seen to have its own importance to Christians, the time

in which Christianity had its origins. In the medieval age

semantic dilemmas posed uncomfortable choices for translators

dealing with the Aeneid’s pagan themes and the conflicts

between traditional conceptions of an epic hero and Christian

ethics. As early as the fourth century Christian authors were

attempting to create alternatives to Virgil’s Aeneid, to

provide a new reading suitable for a Christian audience.

Medieval authors sought to remedy the difficulties which the

classical canon presented by making the epic genre a vehicle

through which Christian values could be expressed. Saint

Augustine, a Christian author who struggled in particular with

the conflict between his love for classical literature and

Latinity and his devotion to Christianity, writes in his

fourth-century Confessions of his education in the Aeneid which

leads him astray from his own Christian spirituality: “I was

forced to learn the wanderings of one Aeneas, forgetful of my

own, and to weep for dead Dido, because she killed herself for

love; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable self,

dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life.”82

Augustine’s solution, however, was not to reject pagan

literature for Christian ideology but rather to divert its

resources to Christian use: “Nam versum et carmen etiam ad

82 1.13.20.

22

vera pulmenta transfero”83 (“For verse and poems I can turn to

true food”) thus “transforming the unreality of the Aeneid into

spiritual nourishment for fledgling Christians.”84 Imtheachta

appears to deal with the religious ramifications of the Aeneid

in a similar way, incorporating Christian motifs into Virgil’s

pagan text. Foucault points up “the displacement of the

discontinuous”85 as an essential feature of historical

practice. He emphasises the value of the irreducible

discontinuity, “no longer the negative of the historical

reading (its underside, its failure, the limits of its power),

but the positive element that determines its object and

validates its analysis.”86 In the discontinuities of meaning to

be found in Imtheachta, might there be evidence of concealed

connections to hidden pasts, other “hierarchies of importance,

several networks of determination”?87 In hypothesising an added

dimension of the latency of Irish pagan figures, tropes and

customs still identifiable from the Irish pre-Christian past,

in addition to the Virgilian pagan material, the complexity of

meanings available to the Irish author increases. There is

also the structural dimension of language to consider. The

mode of transference of the pagan text, the vessel to carry it

across into the ideational hierarchy of Christian ethics, is

in itself a remnant of a pagan code.

In seeking for evidence of an Irish pagan aesthetic

floating beneath the surface of medieval Christian

83 3.6.11.84 Ramage, 1970: 55; also, see Wentzel, 2008: 88.85 2002: 10.86 ibid.87 ibid.: 5.

23

sensibilities there are some key areas of difference where

sounding weights might usefully be lowered. One such relates

to the treatment of the Greco-Roman pantheon. Dares’ and

Dictys’ method of Homerepanorthosis sought to correct the gods’

notoriously immoral behaviour and dismantle Homer’s divine

machinery through removing the immortal audience overseeing

and often interfering with the affairs of humans below.

Consequently the reduced role of pagan gods in the De Excidio

Troiae and Ephemeris allowed medieval authors of the Troy tale to

apply Christian dogma to pseudohistorical works, already

diminished in pagan emphasis. The approach of Imtheachta,

however, contrasts with versions of the Troy tale from

medieval Europe.88 The Spanish version of the Troy tale, for

example, found in Libro de Alexandre is heavily Christianised.

Thetis hides Achilles in a convent rather than on Scyros, and

the devil features prominently, causing Achilles’ death.89

While many of his continental contemporaries radically reshape

the story of Troy by exchanging pagan motifs for a wholly

Christian narrative, the Imtheachta author adheres faithfully to

Virgil’s pagan text, retaining with precise accuracy pagan

customs including the prophecies of Polydorus and Hellenus in

Aeneid 3, the omen of serpents in Aeneid 5 and the involvement of

deities such as Juno on the battlefield in Aeneid 10, to name a

few. Furthermore, temples are not replaced with churches,

pagan priests not turned into Christian ones and Lucifer is

nowhere mentioned. The pagan gods and pagan system of Virgil’s

Aeneid are very much visible in Imtheachta particularly when

88 Myrick, 1993: 161.89 §411, §722.

24

compared to the twelfth-century Le Roman d'Enéas which expunges

most of the scenes featuring pagan divinities. From Aeneid 1

alone Neptune’s calming of the seas, Venus’s encounter with

her son and Cupid’s substitution for Ascanius, are all omitted

from the French version but retained in the Irish Imtheachta.

In the following passages the Irish author actually

increases the number of gods included in invocations thus

(over)emphasising the pagan pantheon rather than downplaying

or eliminating it from his work. Furthermore, Imtheachta puts

into the mouth of Aeneas the favourite oaths of heroes from

Irish saga, “I swear by the gods my tribes swear by” and “I

swear by the gods I worship”, formulae which, as Jackson

remarks, “unquestionably belong to a heathen context”, one in

which each tribe had gods of its own.90

Nunc pateras libate Iovi

precibusque vocate /

Anchisen genitorem, et vina

reponite mensis.

7.133-134

Now pour your cups to Jove,

and call in prayer on my sire

Anchises, and set the wine

again upon the board.

… denaidh udpurta dona deib,

aidchid Ioib Apaill uenir na

dei ar chena. 1538-1539

… and offer sacrifices to the

gods, and beseech Jove,

Apollo, Venus, and all the

gods.

Nymphae, Laurentes nymphae,

genus amnibus unde est, /

tuque, o Thybri tuo genitor

cum flumine sancto, / accipite

… ocus aitchidh na dei

adartha, ocus tocbhaidh a lama

friu, ocus is ed roraid: “A

deo nime talman na n-usce na 90 1964: 28; Poppe, 1995: 18.

25

Aenean et tandem arcete

periclis. 8.71-73

O Nymphs, Laurentine Nymphs,

from whom rivers have their

being, and you, father Tiber,

you and your hallowed stream –

receive Aeneas, and at last

shield him from perils.

srothand na n-aband, rom-

saeraidh arna guasachtaib-sea

fuilet ac tomaithem foramsa

don chur-sa o Laitindaib.”

1821-1823

… and [Aeneas] besought the

gods he worshipped, and lifted

up his hands to them, and

said: “Gods of heaven and

earth, and of the waters,

streams, and rivers, deliver

me from these perils that are

threatening me at this time

from the Latins.”91

Another divergence from Virgil is found in the redactor’s

treatment of genealogy. What role indigenous liminal heritage

played in the choices, preoccupation and synthesis of the

Greco-Roman pagan pantheon with the Christian inheritance is

perhaps suggested in Imtheachta’s treatment of genealogy. This

is a key point as the concerns of ancient society with

origins, lineage, patrimony and chronology are concepts

crucial to both the imported and indigenous cultures. In a

section of the early thirteenth-century poem A theachtaire tig ón

Róimh (‘A messenger who comes from Rome’), attributed to the fili

Giolla Brighde Mac Con Midhe, the poet remarks that without

poetry Ireland’s nobility would be deracinated and one-

91 Similar invocations at 464-5, 1376 and 2956-7.

26

generational: “If it were not for poetry, the music of sweet-

stringed harp or lute would know nothing of a good man after

his death, his career or his repute. Noble men could find no

knowledge of their traditions or descent; let these be woven

in poems, or say goodbye to history.”92

In maintaining the genealogical continuities, the

adjudicator and archivist roles had been held by the filid,

successors to the pagan Druidic tradition. The genealogical

knowledge of the seanchaidhe (‘chroniclers’) and their medium,

the Irish language, were reconciled with the Biblical origin

tale, a conscious attempt to correlate the two traditions –

imported and indigenous. As Edel notes, the great reverence

the Irish had for both Christian-Latin learning and their own

learned traditions is unsurprising from people trained in an

oral culture in which mnemonic techniques played an important

role, “their thinking was not governed by abstract terms and

definitions, but by the association of notions and images.”93

The crucial role of the filid as preservers of Irish genealogy,

heritage and history is perhaps the background to the Irish

preoccupation with synthesising pre-Christian and Christian

genealogy and pseudohistory. Ó Corráin, Breathnach and Breen

draw attention to the defence of indigenous customs and

institutions being maintained in the Irish church through the

seventh and eighth centuries94 and Sharpe points to the secular

control of aspects of its organisation.95 The question of the

92 XVIII 30-31.93 2001: 93.94 1984: 394-412.95 1984: 263.

27

influences within the domain of learning is then an obvious

point to consider and there is evidence of resistance to the

changing apparatus of Christian education in much of the

poetry of the Imtheachta period,96 unsurprising given the status,

privilege and subcutaneous presence of the filid in Irish society.

An example is found earlier in Mac Con Midhe’s protest poem,

which Williams describes as “a spirited defence of poets and

poetry”97 against the attacks of a cleric purporting to have

Papal documents which called for the abolition of the poetic

order in Ireland: “Where is it written in scripture that the

art shall be disgraced? … It is an ugly, barbarous learning

that would have Ireland’s poets expelled!”98

Imtheachta preserves many of the references to genealogy

from the Aeneid, often heavily embellishing Virgil’s writing.

Thus, Ascanius coming into battle is “the tender stripling,

splendid, renowned, famous, the youth, the furious darling,

the point of battle, and manslayer of the West … son of Aeneas, son

of Anchises, son of Ilus, son of Tros, son of Erichthonius,

son of Dardanus, son of Jove, son of Saturn, was that Ascanius

… the origin of the supremacy and overlordship of all the

world was he; for from him sprang the emperors of the world.”99

By contrast, the equivalent passage in Virgil describes

Ascanius as simply “Dardanius”.100 Inclusion of such an

extended lineage perhaps indicates remnants of the Irish oral

tradition, one of its most prominent features being the

96 Williams, 1980: 340-1.97 1980: 340.98 XVIII 5-6.99 2363-2369.100 10.132.

28

catalogues of genealogies memorised by filid as part of their

specialist training, the profession of genealogy being an

essential source for the purposes of succession and which, as

Dumville points out, was orally cultivated throughout the

Gaelic Middle Ages.101

Ireland’s indigenous tradition produced a genealogy and

origin tale for each population group, later adapted into the

Biblical origin legends and genealogies from the seventh

century onwards.102 The pseudohistorical tracts Lebor Gabála Érenn103

(‘The Book of Invasions of Ireland’) and Sex Aetates Mundi104 (‘The

Six Ages of the World’) were major large-scale synthetic

historical texts which drew upon Irish pagan myth interpreting

it within the framework of Judaeo-Christian theology and

historiography. In Lebor Gabála monastic scholars tell of the

successive invasions of Ireland by various peoples including

the Partholón, Tuatha Dé Danaan (the deities of pre-Christian

Ireland) and the Milesians. Carey describes Lebor Gabála’s

inwardness reflecting “a deep and for its time remarkable

reverence for, and interest in, native traditions concerning

bygone times.”105

Combining with Irish genealogical concerns is the

challenge of how to treat the Greco-Roman pantheon. The

problem facing medieval scholars treating pagan figures is 101 In Sawyer and Woods, 1977: 84.102 Edel, 2001: 29.103 Taking form over the ninth, tenth and eleventh centuries, Lebor Gabála reached its final shape in c.1050; Carey in Edel, 1995: 47.104 Sex Aetates is found in eight manuscripts ranging from the twelfth to the seventeenth century.

105 In Edel, 1995: 47.

29

summed up by Momigliano: “The new history could not suppress

the old. Adam and Eve and what follows had in some way to be

presented in a world populated by Deucalion, Cadmus, Romulus,

and Alexander the Great.”106 This was the dilemma the

Imtheachta’s author faced and then solved through the medium of

a genealogy uniting into one ancestral line Roman characters

with Christian figures from the Bible. Thus, into the

genealogy of Latinus are inserted Noah, his son Ham and Ham’s

son Mizraim.

Whereas Virgil describes Latinus as descended from Saturn

through Faunus, Marica and Picus, the Irish author places

Saturn, Neptune and Apollo into the genealogy of Latinus in

addition to Mizraim, Ham and Noah, characters from the Book of

Genesis.107

Rex arva Latinus et urbes / iam

senior longa placidas in pace

regebat. / Hunc Fauno et nympha

genitum Laurente Marica /

accipimus, Fauno Picus pater

isque parentem / te, Saturne,

refert, tu sanguinis ultimus

auctor. 7.45-49

King Latinus, now old, ruled

over lands and towns in the

calm of a long peace. He was

sprung of Faunus, we are told,

Ba failid ba hemh leo

torachtain chuigi, in tan

doruachtatar Laitin mac Puin

meic Neptune meic Saduirn

meic Pal loir meic Pic meic

Pel meic Tres meic Trois meic

Mesraim meic Caimh meic Noe.

1477-1480

Their arrival at it was to

them joyous and opportune,

when they reached Latinus,

son of Faunus, son of 106 1963: 81.107 The genealogy linking Saturn, Tros, Ham and Noah is also found in the, perhaps, tenth-century Togail Troí ll. 1-3. See Myrick, 1993: 162-3.

30

and the Laurentine nymph,

Marica. Faunus’ sire was Picus,

and he boasts you, Saturn, as

his father; you are the first

founder of the line.

Neptune, son of Saturn, son

of Apollo, son of Picus, son

of Pel, son of Tres, son of

Tros, son of Mizraim, son of

Ham, son of Noah.

Early Christian historians such as Sextus Julius

Africanus and Hippolytus of Rome while tracing Judaeo-

Christian history back to Adam came upon the problem of the

Greco-Roman pantheon. After being stripped of their divine

status the Greco-Roman gods must logically derive from one of

Noah’s three sons: Shem, Japheth or Ham.108 In Lebor Gabála the

author descends all of mankind from Adam through the sons of

Noah,109 describing how Japheth’s son Magog is the great-great-

grandfather of Fénius Farsaid and thus ancestor to the Gaels

and the Irish.110 Consequently, the Irish were able to claim

their heritage as deriving directly from Japheth without any

connection with a euhemerised pagan god from the Greco-Roman

pantheon.111 Furthermore, in the Bible Noah curses Ham for, in

some versions, ridiculing Noah in his drunken naked state, and

in others, for raping his father.112 As punishment Noah curses

Ham and casts him out, prophesising that the sons of Ham would

serve the god of Shem and that Japheth would be enlarged by

God.113 There is, then, a parallel between Ham and the Greco-108 Myrick, 1993: 164.109 §102.110 ibid.; The idea of the Irish descending from Japheth came from Isidore who made the equation Japheth = Europe = Christendom.111 Myrick, 1993: 169.112 Gen. 9:22-27.113 Gen. 9:27.

31

Roman pantheon in that both are rejected and superseded by

another god, i.e. the Christian God. As Myrick writes, “A

Hamite pedigree for Saturn could be used to support the notion

that the Greco-Roman gods inherited a status subservient to

that of the god of Shem and Japheth, and were thus destined to

give way once and for all to Christianity.”114

In Sex Aetates Ham and Cain are described as progenitors of

the monstrous luchorpáin and the semi-divine giant Fomorians of

Irish mythology.115 Clarke observes a remarkable effort to

synthesise and harmonise the two descents of Cain and Ham in

the Irish tradition.116 In the Bible, Cain treacherously

murdered his brother and was cursed with a punishment of being

a wandering fugitive and exile.117 A genealogy linking Ham,

Tros (a ruler and the eponym of Troy) and Latinus also

associate to another prototypical sinner, Cain. Through

Aeneas’ marriage to Lavinia, Latinus and the Latins become

fused with the Trojans, thereby connecting the Trojans to Ham

and through Ham, to Cain. Cain commits the first murder in the

Bible for which he is exiled, roaming the world until he

builds the first city, Enoch.118 The genealogy of Ham, with its

connection to the treacherous, fratricidal Cain, links to the

depiction of Aeneas as the traitor of one city and founder of 114 1993: 175.115 “Thus it was Ham who was the first to be cursed after the flood, whence he is the successor to Cain after the flood. And from him were born the luchorpáin, and the fomoraig, and the horseheads.” §34; The male descendants ofSeth mate with the daughters of Cain and through them “the monstrous creatures of the world were born – the fomoraig and luchorpáin and every monstrous form that was among mankind … for that reason the Flood was sent over the earth, to drown the family of Cain”. §17.116 2012: 27-8.117 Gen. 4:12.118 Gen. 4:17.

32

another in Imtheachta. Ham and Cain are both shunned and exiled,

by Noah and God, respectively.

And yet, when any addition is made to Virgil’s original

in Imtheachta, double meanings proliferate. The genealogical

alignment of the Greco-Roman pantheon and Irish mythological

figures with an outcast son of Noah and the Bible’s first

murderer Cain, becomes further complicated. Given the

comparisons between Aeneas and Irish warriors Fergus and Cú

Chulainn pervading Imtheachta, ambiguities are present. Aeneas’

descent through Latinus from Ham also links him to the pre-

Christian mythological races the Fomorians, Tuatha Dé Danaan

and the luchorpáin and consequently to Cú Chulainn, half-mortal

son of Tuatha Dé Danaan leader, Lug, (Irish mythological god

whose mother is the daughter of the Fomorian leader Balor).

Aeneas is also associated with the traitorous exile Fergus,

whom Irish pseudohistory descended from Partholón and Japheth,

and who is also the foster-father of Cú Chulainn. So far, so

complicated.119 (Creation of ambivalence in legal dispute being

a technique of the genealogist filid.)120 Returning to the

Foucauldian notion whereby rupture becomes the indicator, the

inverted sign of transformation, a sense of “chronological

specificities, particular forms of rehandling”121 can perhaps

be identified here. The problem is to determine, as Foucault

sees it, “what form of relation may be legitimately described

to these different series.”122 What can be recognised in this

119 See Appendix 2 for a visual version of this genealogy.120 See Binchy, 1943.121 2002: 11.122 ibid.; Here I am borrowing Foucault’s specific connotation of “series” todenote the dual significance of the lineage created by the Imtheachta

33

complicated weave of genealogy are Irish mythological figures,

Biblical figures and Classical figures becoming interlinked;

one does not subsume another but all seem to cross paths. What

may be alluded to under the surface of seemingly Christian

ideology is the notion of the Other. Carey demonstrates how

the key themes which run through Lebor Gabála cannot be traced

to Latin learning but seem likeliest to derive from indigenous

teachings concerning the deeper past.123 Ireland, states Carey,

“appears, again and again, not merely as earth and stone but

as the Other, a mysterious being rooted in timelessness and

challenging the limits of our own mortality.”124 Could the

notion of the Other lie beneath the ambiguities of the

Imtheachta – the notion of the otherworldly races the Fomorians

and Tuatha Dé Danaan as the first people to settle in Ireland?

And what of the notion of exile, the cast out divinities of

pre-Christian Ireland which Christian monastics do not seem to

be able to (or do not want to) eradicate from their

genealogies?

The notion of flight, of exile in Imtheachta, may lead us

back to Foucault who talks of a principle of exclusion whereby

elements of history which may not be compatible with a certain

discourse, are exiled.125 A Christian network may not be

compatible with an Irish societal network of the same period

and thus there may be a rupture to be explored. The filid figure

in a different network to the power play of medieval

author.123 In Edel, 1995: 60.124 ibid.125 2002: 67.

34

Christianity and connect to a common societal hierarchy.

Images of the filid wandering the roads of Ireland in an

internal exile and complaints of their ousting are familiar

tropes of Irish medieval poetry. Bitter resentment at the

ousting of the filid underlies the seminal epic poem,

contemporary with Imtheachta, Buile Suibhne, whose story has been

traced back to seventh century oral tradition.126 Séamus

Heaney’s translation sees its hero, Sweeney, as the “figure of

the artist, displaced, guilty, assuaging himself by his

utterance, it is possible to read the work as an aspect of the

quarrel between free creative imagination and the constraints

of religious … obligation.”127 Similarly, Cox identifies a

pattern in the history of Virgilian translations as undertaken

for the most part by writers on the edge of a dominant

culture128 and Burrow, writing on translations of the Aeneid

into English, observes liminality as an essential feature of

Virgilian translation.129 That it is predominantly writers who

view themselves as on the margins of a dominant culture who

turn to Virgil can be identified in contemporary Irish writers

including Séamus Heaney (Seeing Things) and Eavan Boland (Outside

History).130 The genealogical intervention in Imtheachta results in

the creation of a marginal line for the expelled pagan

forebears, which nonetheless maintains their place in the

lineage. The idea of the outsider having a position in the

conception of the lineage of the Irish offers a view of

126 Heaney, 2010: introduction.127 ibid.128 2006: 71.129 In Martindale, 1997: 21, 23-4.130 Cox, 1997: 72-3.

35

historical understanding that enriches rather than limits our

sense of the author’s period, and it sets off many more

questions particularly given that Imtheachta is an under-

researched work.

Viewing Imtheachta’s Christian insertions alongside

Virgil’s pagan dimensions, with the marginalised native

forebears flanking, the effect can be to destabilise the

authorised genealogy, undermining its purpose and mystifying

the overall didactic goal. The author even incorporates into

Imtheachta the Irish pre-Christian goddess of battle Badb, who

appears to echo the role of Allecto by wreaking havoc among

the Trojans and Latins: “ocus ba failidh Badb derg dasachtach

ac imchosait etir in da chath sin”131 (“And joyous was red mad

War a-stirring up mutual strife between those two

battalions”). Badb played a similar role in the Táin,

implanting fear among the troops, battling alongside mortal

warriors, just as the gods in Homer and Virgil are depicted in

the mortal sphere. Edel writes that the “apparently

unproblematic coexistence of secular (pagan?) and Christian

elements … may have been inspired by the desire to treat the

inherited and imported culture as equals.”132 Furthermore,

O’Riordan identifies how the richness of Irish literature

itself provided “a panoply of gods, demigods, fabulous

creatures and heroes and villains to maintain a living

tradition into which elements from other literatures and

cultures were easily absorbed and reconstituted to fit the

literary flow appropriate to the requirements of the gaelic 131 2480-1.132 2001: 31.

36

canon.”133 The author, faced with Virgil’s pagan pantheon,

recognises parallels with Ireland’s indigenous gods. Ní

Mhaonaigh describes medieval Irish writers as weavers working

on a shared inherited fabric and cutting their cloth “with

pre-existing garments in mind. The result is a patchwork of

repeating patterns in new imaginative guises which can only be

properly assessed in an intertextual context.”134 A further

consideration is the extent to which, in the development out

of an oral tradition into a literate one through acquisition

of another language and narrative heritage, the indigenous

tradition is renewed, reshaped. And then there is the

filtering influence of Christianity effecting another layer of

complexity. The question also follows, what affect on a grasp

of Christian ideology the merging of these two pagan

orthodoxies might have?135

The combination of Ireland’s indigenous pre-Christian

gods, Virgil’s pagan gods and the underlying notion of the God

of the imported culture make for an equivocal dynamic within

the text overall. This equivocation may reflect a split

consciousness in the author through the layering of cultural

signs – the complex semiotics involved in working with a Latin

text which had entered Ireland alongside the imported

Christian-Latin culture, underpinned by deeply anchored signs

of sen-eolas (‘old knowledge’) from the Irish inheritance, within

the language. With the expansion of Romanisation, classical

texts occupied the core of the educational curriculum

133 2007: xvii.134 in Kelleher and O’Leary, 2006: 32.135 ibid.

37

throughout medieval Europe. Education was “grounded in the

study of grammar and rhetoric, designed to enable its elite

beneficiaries to speak eloquently in public as a key dimension

of their social and cultural identity and self-promotion.”136

Yet, Ireland, one of the few Western European regions not

conquered by the Romans, also retained its own customs and

institutions,137 formed out of its own mythologies and

narrative heritage, in combination with a highly evolved

system of rhetoric and one of the most sophisticated poetic

forms that has ever existed. The position of the Irish

redactor, then, in relation to these “works of classical

literature radically at variance with Christian doctrine”,138

can be seen to be more compromised perhaps, given the

resonances of his own cultural identity that the works

contain. Ambiguity would be an unsurprising choice of resort,

also considering the tendency towards encryption already

discussed as a commonly found trait of Irish rhetorical style.

Regarding tradition, “The historical sense involves a

perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its

presence,” T. S. Eliot wrote.139 In discussing the trafficking

of ancient representations of divinity a conception of

distinct unities of ideology and cultural systems, a

permanence of themes and images through time – the tradition –

is assumed140; a narrative of a divide between ancient/pagan

and medieval/Christian sensibility is one background to an

136 Gildenhard and Zissos, 2013: 196.137 Edel, 2001: 112.138 Gildenhard and Zissos, 2013: 196.139 1932: 49.140 Foucault, 2013: chapters 1-3.

38

exegesis of the Irish Aeneid. In this interpretation the

translator serves as “the locus of the registering and

interpreting of ideology”141 the arbitrator of that which is

acceptable and that which will be cast out. This view depicts

a Christian didactic purpose to preserve classical learning in

the medieval period as the primary focus generating the

choices being made by the translator. The question I have been

considering is whether such an emphasis serves to conceal the

presence of other unities. In one sense, it is satisfying to

recognise at the interstices of cultural ideologies the

character of Aeneas, with his accrued ambivalence of

significances reading like a charge sheet of ambiguity; to

discover him as a good surface on which to mirror some of the

ambiguities in the translator’s own position in relation to

his cultural inheritance, both indigenous and adopted,

languages, learning and social status. Edel writes, “Irish men

of learning made the effort to develop their inherited

tradition into a discussion partner for the imported culture,

thus rendering the archaic dynamic.”142 In discussing the music

of poetry, Eliot sets up the idea of Latin poetry’s metrical

scheme being overlaid by the presence of the Greek language to

create a pleasurable counterpoint for the listener.143 This

conception links to the dynamic involved in the overlay of

vernacular Irish, a storehouse of signs representing

signifiers of an ancient discursive formation, fused with a

literary system mediated through Christianity. The complexity

141 ibid., chapter 3.142 Edel, 2001: 34.143 1969: 20.

39

of associations emerging from such a counterpoint gives

credence to one answer to “the puzzle of Ireland’s role in the

preservation of classical learning”144: that for the Irish,

given their own cultural unities, the engagement in such a

project was a return home as well as a voyage abroad.

144 Miles, 2011: 275.

40

Appendix 1:

I am grateful for the generous support and invaluable advice I

received from Dr. Máire Ní Mhaonaigh and Dr. Ingo Gildenhard,

and for the opportunity to attend ASNaC classes that was given

to me.

Irish passages from Imtheachta not included in main body of

thesis:

Page 7:

“i cath inar n-aigid, co ndorchradar leo hilar arrig-ni ocus

ar tusech ocus ar cathmiled, co ndorchradar-sum uili lendi …

acht lucht in braith nama .i. Aenias Antinor cona muintir.”35-

40.

Page 10:

“In tan tra rochuala Aenias in sgel sin, doerigh a brut hocus

a brig and, ocus a fherg ocus a gal curudh, ocus adraig a en

gaile co mbai for luamain uasa cind. Ba ferg nathrach ferg

Aenias in tan sin. Ba bruth miled ocus ba luth leomain, ba gal

curudh, ba nert niad, ba lamach laech lais. Ba handsa tra

fulung a fergi ocus frithalum a mhacomlaind in la sin.

Noimrind in tan sin amal damh dassachtach rogialla gail, no

amal leomain londbrighach.” 2565-2572.

41

Page 18:

“Tic dono etaru sin isin cath inmaethoglach an urdirc allata

ocus in maccaem ocus in mertretill ocus in rind agha ocus

imghona iarthair .i. Asgan mac Aenias meic Anachis meic Ilois

meic Trois meic Erectonius meic Dardain meic Ioibh meic

Saduirnd int Asgan isin, fer suairc sochraid seghaind

saercheniuil in mac sin, bunudh oirechus ocus ardflaith usa in

domain uili eside, ar is uada rogenetar airdrigha in domain.”

2363-2369.

Notes to page 11:

Stark similarities are seen in the rhetorical

embellishments of repetition across such examples as Imtheachta

and the Táin. This might indicate the presence of an Irish

vernacular aesthetic still buoyant beneath the medieval

ideology and rhetorical style:

Imtheachta: Nisus and Euryalus are described as “two faithful

comrades they – two youths – two heroes, two strong ones, two

darlings, two points of contest and manslaying, two pillars of

battle, and two hammers for smiting and crushing foes.” (“Dias

cumthra tairisi iadsaide in da maccaemh .i. da ainle, da tren,

da tretill, da rind aga ocus imgona, da uaitni catha, ocus da

ord esairgne ocus bruite bidbud.” 2060-2063).

Táin: Fergus describes two Ulster warriors: “Those are two

warriors, two bright flames, two points of perfection in

battle, two heroes, two combative chiefs, two dragons, two

fiery ones, two champions, two fighters, two scions, two bold

42

ones, the two beloved by the Ulstermen around their king. They

are Fiachna and Fíacha, two sons of Conchobar mac Nessa, the

two loved ones of the north of Ireland.” (‘“Ratafetammar ám

ale,” bar Fergus. “Dá ánrath sain, dá óenmuntind, dá

óenlosnaid, dá óenchaindill, dá ching, dá churaid, dá

chléthbriugaid, dá dreicg, dá thenid, dá thuidmechtaid, dá

deil, dá dána, dá dásachtach, dá threittell Ulad imma ríg.

Fiachaig ocus Fiachna and sain, dá mac Conchobuir meic Fachtna

meic Rossa Rúaid meic Rudraigi and sain.”’4474-9)

43

Appendix 2:

44

Noah

Ham Japhe Shem

Mizrai

Tros

TresPe

Picu

Apoll

Saturn

Neptu

Faunu

Latin

Magog

Partholón

Ros Ruaidhe

FergusCú

Ethn Lugh(Tuatha Dé

Balor

Lavin Aeneas

Fomorians

Luchorpáin

Horseheads

Tuatha DéDanaan

A (condensed) genealogy taken

from Imtheachta Aeniasa, Sex Aetates

Mundi, Banshenchus and Lebor Gabála

Oliv

Cain

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