Monday, 5 October 2020

Gaelic Folklore (33): The Druids

 


The Druids. 

Pliny thought that the name "Druid" was a Greek appellation derived from the Druidic cult of the oak.  (Pliny, HN xvi. 249.)The word, however, is purely Celtic, and its meaning probably implies that, like the sorcerer and medicine-man everywhere, the Druid was regarded as "the knowing one." It is composed of two parts--dru-, regarded by M. D'Arbois as an intensive, and vids, from vid, "to know," or "see."  Hence the Druid was "the very knowing or wise one." It is possible, however, that dru- is connected with the root which gives the word "oak" in Celtic. speech--Gaulish deruo, Irish dair, Welsh derw--and that the oak, occupying a place in the cult, was thus brought into relation with the name of the priesthood. The Gaulish form of the name was probably druis, the Old Irish was drai. The modern forms in Irish and Scots Gaelic, drui and draoi, mean "sorcerer."

M. D'Arbois and others, accepting Cæsar's dictum that "the system (of Druidism) is thought to have been devised in Britain, and brought thence into Gaul," maintain that the Druids were priests of the Goidels in Britain, who imposed themselves upon the Gaulish conquerors of the Goidels, and that Druidism then passed over into Gaul about 200 B.C.  But it is hardly likely that, even if the Druids were accepted as priests by conquering Gauls in Britain, they should have affected the Gauls of Gaul who were outside the reflex influence of the conquered Goidels, and should have there obtained that power which they possessed.

Goidels and Gauls were allied by race and language and religion, and it would be strange if they did not both possess a similar priesthood. Moreover, the Goidels had been a continental people, and Druidism was presumably flourishing among them then. Why did it not influence kindred Celtic tribes without Druids, according to the hypothesis proposed, at that time? Further, if we accept Professor Meyer's theory that no Goidel set foot in Britain until the second century A.D., the Gauls could not have received the Druidic priesthood from the Goidels.


Cæsar merely says, "it is thought (existimatur) that Druidism came to Gaul from Britain." (Cæsar, vi. 13.) It was a pious opinion, perhaps his own, or one based on the fact that those who wished to perfect themselves in Druidic art went to Britain. This may have been because Britain had been less open to foreign influences than Gaul, and its Druids, un-affected by these, were thought to be more powerful than those of Gaul. Pliny, on the other hand, seems to think that Druidism passed over into Britain from Gaul. (Pliny, HN xxx.1)

Other writers--Sir John Rhŷs, Sir G. L. Gomme, and M. Reinach-support on different grounds the theory that the Druids were a pre-Celtic priesthood, accepted by the Celtic conquerors. Sir John Rhŷs thinks that the Druidism of the aborigines of Gaul and Britain made terms with the Celtic conquerors. It was accepted by the Goidels, but not by the Brythons. Hence in Britain there were Brythons without Druids, aborigines under the sway of Druidism, and Goidels who combined Aryan polytheism with Druidism. Druidism was also the religion of the aborigines from the Baltic to Gibraltar, and was accepted by the Gauls.

But if so, it is difficult to see why the Brythons, akin to them, did not accept it. Our knowledge of Brythonic religion is too scanty for us to prove that the Druids had or had not sway over them, but the presumption is that they had. Nor is there any historical evidence to show that the Druids were originally a non-Celtic priesthood. Everywhere they appear as the supreme and dominant priesthood of the Celts, and the priests of a conquered people could hardly have obtained such power over the conquerors. The relation of the Celts to the Druids is quite different from that of conquerors, who occasionally resort to the medicine-men of the conquered folk because they have stronger magic or greater influence with the autochthonous gods. The Celts did not resort to the Druids occasionally; according to the hypothesis proposed they accepted them completely, were dominated by them in every department of life, while their own priests, if they had any, accepted this order of things without a murmur. All this is incredible.

The picture drawn by Cæsar, Strabo, and others of the Druids and their position among the Celts as judges, choosers of tribal chiefs and kings, teachers, as well as ministers of religion, suggests rather that they were a native Celtic priesthood, long established among the people. Sir G. L. Gomme supports the theory that the Druids were a pre-Celtic priesthood, because, in his opinion, much of their belief in magic as well as their use of human sacrifice and the redemption of one life by another, is opposed to "Aryan sentiment." Equally opposed to this are their functions of settling controversies, judging, settling the succession to property, and arranging boundaries.

These views are supported by a comparison of the position of the Druids relatively to the Celts with that of non-Aryan persons in India who render occasional priestly services to Hindu village communities.  Whether this comparison of occasional Hindu custom with Celtic usage two thousand years ago is just, may be questioned. As already seen, it was no mere occasional service which the Druids rendered to the Celts, and it is this which makes it difficult to credit this theory. Had the Celtic house-father been priest and judge in his own clan, would he so readily have surren-dered his rights to a foreign and conquered priesthood?

On the other hand, kings and chiefs among the Celts probably retained some priestly functions, derived from the time when the offices of the priest-king had not been differentiated. Cæsar's evidence certainly does not support the idea that "it is only among the rudest of the so-called Celtic tribes that we find this superimposing of an apparently official priesthood." According to him, the power of the Druids was universal in Gaul, and had their position really corresponded to that of the pariah priests of India, occasional priests of Hindu villages, the determined hostility of the Roman power to them because they wielded such an enormous influence over Celtic thought and life, is unexplainable. If, further, Aryan sentiment was so opposed to Druidic customs, why did Aryan Celts so readily accept the Druids? In this case the receiver is as bad as the thief.

Sir G. L. Gomme clings to the belief that the Aryans were people of a comparatively high civilisation, who had discarded, if they ever possessed, a savage "past." But old beliefs and customs still survive through growing civilization, and if the views of Professor Sergi and others are correct, the Aryans were even less civilised than the peoples whom they conquered.  Shape-shifting, magic, human sacrifice, priestly domination, were as much Aryan as non-Aryan, and if the Celts had a comparatively pure religion, why did they so soon allow it to be defiled by the puerile superstitions of the Druids?


M. Reinach then argues that the Celts accepted Druidism en bloc, as the Romans accepted Oriental cults and the Greeks the native Pelasgic cults. But neither Romans nor Greeks abandoned their own faith. Were the Celts a people without priests and without religion? We know that they must have accepted many local cults, but that they adopted the whole aboriginal faith and its priests en bloc is not credible. M. Reinach also holds that when the Celts appear in history Druidism was in its decline; the Celt, or at least the military caste among the Celts, was reasserting itself. But the Druids do not appear as a declining body in the pages of Cæsar, and their power was still supreme, to judge by the hostility of the Roman Government to them. If the military caste rebelled against them, this does not prove that they were a foreign body. Such a strife is seen wherever priest and soldier form separate castes, each desiring to rule, as in Egypt.

Other writers argue that we do not find Druids existing in the Danube region, in Cisalpine territory, nor in Transalpine Gaul, "outside the limits of the region occupied by the Celtæ." This could only have weight if any of the classical writers had composed a formal treatise on the Druids, showing exactly the regions where they existed. They merely describe Druidism as a general Celtic institution, or as they knew it in Gaul or Britain, and few of them have any personal knowledge of it. There is no reason to believe that Druids did not exist wherever there were Celts. The Druids and Semnotheoi of the Celts and Galatæ, referred to c. 200 B.C. were apparently priests of other Celts than those of Gaul, and Celtic groups of Cisalpine Gaul had priests, though these are not formally styled Druids. (Diog. Laert. i. I; Livy xxiii. 24.) The argument based on lack of contrary evidence is here of little value, since the references to the Druids are so brief, and it tells equally against their non-Celtic origin, since we do not hear of Druids in Aquitania, a non-Celtic region.

The theory of the non-Celtic origin of the Druids assumes that the Celts had no priests, or that these were effaced by the Druids. The Celts had priests called gutuatri attached to certain temples, their name perhaps meaning "the speakers," those who spoke to the gods. Gutuatros is perhaps from gutu-, "voice" The existence of the gutuatri is known from a few inscriptions, and from Hirtius, de Bell. Gall.viii. 38, who mentions a gutuatros put to death by Cæsar. The functions of the Druids were much more general, according to this theory, hence M. D'Arbois supposes that, before their intrusion, the Celts had no other priests than the gutuatri.  But the probability is that they were a Druidic class, ministers of local sanctuaries, and related to the Druids as the Levites were to the priests of Israel, since the Druids were a composite priesthood with a variety of functions. If the priests and servants of Belenos, described by Ausonius and called by him ædituus Beleni, were gutuatri, then the latter must have been connected with the Druids, since he says they were of Druidic stock. (Ausonius, Professor. v. 7, xi. 24.)

Lucan's "priest of the grove" may have been a gutuatros, and the priests (sacerdotes) and other ministers (antistites) of the Boii may have been Druids properly so called and gutuatri. (Lucan, iii. 424; Livy, xxiii. 24.) Another class of temple servants may have existed. Names beginning with the name of a god and ending in gnatos, "accustomed to," "beloved of," occur in inscriptions, and may denote persons consecrated from their youth to the service of a grove or temple. On the other hand, the names may mean no more than that those bearing them were devoted to the cult of one particular god.


Our supposition that the gutuatri were a class of Druids is supported by classical evidence, which tends to show that the Druids were a great inclusive priesthood with different classes possessing different functions--priestly, prophetic, magical, medical, legal, and poetical. Cæsar attributes these to the Druids as a whole, but in other writers they are in part at least in the hands of different classes. Diodorus refers to the Celtic philosophers and theologians (Druids), diviners, and bards, as do also Strabo and Timagenes, Strabo giving the Greek form of the native name for the diviners, οὐάτεις, the Celtic form being probably vâtis (Irish, fáith). (Diod. Sic. v. 31; Strabo, iv. 4. 4; Timagenes apud Amm. Marc. xv. 9.) These may have been also poets, since vâtis means both singer and poet; but in all three writers the bards are a fairly distinct class, who sing the deeds of famous men (so Timagenes).

Druid and diviner were also closely connected, since the Druids studied nature and moral philosophy, and the diviners were also students of nature, according to Strabo and Timagenes. No sacrifice was complete without a Druid, say Diodorus and Strabo, but both speak of the diviners as concerned with sacrifice. Druids also prophesied as well as diviners, according to Cicero and Tacitus. (Cicero, de Div. i. 41. 90; Tac. Hist. iv. 54.) Finally, Lucan mentions only Druids and bards. (Phars. i. 449 f.) Diviners were thus probably a Druidic sub-class, standing midway between the Druids proper and the bards, and partaking of some of the functions of both.

Pliny speaks of "Druids and this race of prophets and doctors," (Pliny, HN xxx. i.) and this suggests that some were priests, some diviners, while some practised an empiric medical science. On the whole this agrees with what is met with in Ireland, where the Druids, though appearing in the texts mainly as magicians, were also priests and teachers. Side by side with them were the Filid, "learned poets," composing according to strict rules of art, and higher than the third class, the Bards. Filid, sing. File, is from velo, "I see".

The Filid, who may also have been known as Fáthi, "prophets," were also diviners according to strict rules of augury, while some of these auguries implied a sacrifice. Fáthi is cognate with Vates. The Druids were also diviners and prophets. When the Druids were overthrown at the coming of Christianity, the Filid remained as a learned class, probably because they had abandoned all pagan practices, while the Bards were reduced to a comparatively low status. M. D'Arbois supposes that there was rivalry between the Druids and the Filid, who made common cause with the Christian missionaries, but this is not supported by evidence.

The three classes in Gaul--Druids, Vates, and Bards--thus correspond to the three classes in Ireland-- Druids, Fáthi or Filid, and Bards. In Wales there had been Druids as there were Bards, but all trace of the second class is lost. Long after the Druids had passed away, the fiction of the derwydd-vardd or Druid-bard was created, and the later bards were held to be depositories of a supposititious Druidic theosophy, while they practised the old rites in secret. The late word derwydd was probably invented from derw, "oak," by someone who knew Pliny's derivation.

We may thus conclude that the Druids were a purely Celtic priesthood, belonging both to the Goidelic and Gaulish branches of the Celts. The idea that they were not Celtic is sometimes connected with the supposition that Druidism was something superadded to Celtic religion from without, or that Celtic polytheism was not part of the creed of the Druids, but sanctioned by them, while they had a definite theological system with only a few gods.

These are the ideas of writers who see in the Druids an occult and esoteric priesthood. The Druids had grown up side by side with the growth of the native religion and magic. Where they had become more civilised, as in the south of Gaul, they may have given up many magical practices, but as a class they were addicted to magic, and must have taken part in local cults as well as in those of the greater gods. That they were a philosophic priesthood advocating a pure religion among polytheists is a baseless theory. Druidism was not a formal system outside Celtic religion. It covered the whole ground of Celtic religion; in other words, it was that religion itself.

The Druids are first referred to by pseudo-Aristotle and Sotion in the second century B.C., the reference being preserved by Diogenes Laertius: "There are among the Celtæ and Galatæ those called Druids and Semnotheoi." (Diog. Laert. i. proem, Cæsar, vi. 13, 14; Strabo, iv. 4. 4; Amm. Marc. xv. 9; Diod, Sic, v. 28; Lucan, i. 460; Mela, iii. 2.) The two words may be synonymous, or they may describe two classes of priests, or, again, the Druids may have been Celtic, and the Semnotheoi Galatic (? Galatian) priests.

Cæsar's account comes next in time. Later writers gives the Druids a lofty place and speak vaguely of the Druidic philosophy and science. Cæsar also refers to their science, but both he and Strabo speak of their human sacrifices. Suetonius describes their religion as cruel and savage, and Mela, who speaks of their learning, regards their human sacrifices as savagery. (Suet. Claud. 25; Mela, iii.) Pliny says nothing of the Druids as philosophers, but hints at their priestly functions, and connects them with magico-medical rites. (Pliny, xxx. 1.)

These divergent opinions are difficult to account for. But as the Romans gained closer acquaintance with the Druids, they found less philosophy and more superstition among them. For their cruel rites and hostility to Rome, they sought to suppress them, but this they never would have done had the Druids been esoteric philosophers. It has been thought that Pliny's phrase, "Druids and that race of prophets and doctors," signifies that, through Roman persecution, the Druids were reduced to a kind of medicine-men.  But the phrase rather describes the varied functions of the Druids, as has been seen, nor does it refer to the state to which the repressive edict reduced them, but to that in which it found them. Pliny's information was also limited.

The vague idea that the Druids were philosophers was repeated parrot-like by writer after writer, who regarded barbaric races as Rousseau and his school looked upon the "noble savage." Roman writers, skeptical of a future life, were fascinated by the idea of a barbaric priesthood teaching the doctrine of immortality in the wilds of Gaul. For this teaching the poet Lucan sang their praises. The Druids probably first impressed Greek and Latin observers by their magic, their organization, and the fact that, like many barbaric priesthoods, but unlike those of Greece and Rome, they taught certain doctrines. Their knowledge was divinely conveyed to them; "they speak the language of the gods;" (Diod. Sic. v. 31. 4.) hence it was easy to read anything into this teaching. Thus the Druidic legend rapidly grew.

On the other hand, modern writers have perhaps exaggerated the force of the classical evidence. When we read of Druidic associations we need not regard these as higher than the organized priesthoods of barbarians. Their doctrine of metem-psychosis, if it was really taught, involved no ethical content as in Pythagoreanism. Their astronomy was probably astrological (See Cicero, de Div. i. 41.); their knowledge of nature a series of cosmogonic myths and speculations. If a true Druidic philosophy and science had existed, it is strange that it is always mentioned vaguely and that it exerted no influence upon the thought of the time.

Classical sentiment also found a connection between the Druidic and Pythagorean systems, the Druids being regarded as conforming to the doctrines and rules of the Greek philosopher. (Diod. Sic. v. 28; Amm. Marc. xv. 9; Hippolytus, Refut. Hær. i. 22.) It is not improbable that some Pythagorean doctrines may have reached Gaul, but when we examine the point at which the two systems were supposed to meet, namely, the doctrine of metempsychosis and immortality, upon which the whole idea of this relationship was founded, there is no real resemblance. There are Celtic myths regarding the rebirth of gods and heroes, but the eschatological teaching was apparently this, that the soul was clothed with a body in the other-world. There was no doctrine of a series of rebirths on this earth as a punishment for sin. The Druidic teaching of a bodily immortality was mistakenly assumed to be the same as the Pythagorean doctrine of the soul reincarnated in body after body.

Other points of resemblance were then discovered. The organisation of the Druids was assumed by Ammianus to be a kind of corporate life--sodaliciis adstricti consortiis--while the Druidic mind was always searching into lofty things, (Amm. Marc. xv. 9.) but those who wrote most fully of the Druids knew nothing of this.

The Druids, like the priests of all religions, doubtless sought after such knowledge as was open to them, but this does not imply that they possessed a recondite philosophy or a secret theology. They were governed by the ideas current among all barbaric communities, and they were at once priests, magicians, doctors, and teachers. They would not allow their sacred hymns to be written down, but taught them in secret, (Cæsar, vi. 14.) as is usual wherever the success of hymn or prayer depends upon the right use of the words and the secrecy observed in imparting them to others. Their ritual, as far as is known to us, differs but little from that of other barbarian folk, and it included human sacrifice and divination with the victim's body. They excluded the guilty from a share in the cult--the usual punishment meted out to the tabu-breaker in all primitive societies.

The idea that -the Druids taught a secret doctrine--monotheism, pantheism, or the like--is unsupported by evidence. Doubtless they communicated secrets to the initiated, as is done in barbaric mysteries everywhere, but these secrets consist of magic and mythic formulæ, the exhibition of Sacra, and some teaching about the gods or about moral duties. These are kept secret, not because they are abstract doctrines, but because they would lose their value and because the gods would be angry if they were made too common. If the Druids taught religious and moral matters secretly, these were probably no more than an extension of the threefold maxim inculcated by them according to Diogenes Laertius: "To worship the gods, to do no evil, and to exercise courage." (Diog. Laert. 6. Celtic enthusiasts see in this triple maxim something akin to the Welsh triads, which they claim to be Druidic!) To this would be added cosmogonic myths and speculations, and magic and religious formulæ. This will become more evident as we examine the position and power of the Druids.

In Gaul, and to some extent in Ireland, the Druids formed a priestly corporation--a fact which helped classical observers to suppose that they lived together like the Pythagorean communities. While the words of Ammianus--sodaliciis adstricti consortiis--may imply no more than some kind of priestly organization, M. Bertrand founds on them a theory that the Druids were a kind of monks living a community life, and that Irish monasticism was a transformation of this system.  This is purely imaginative. Irish Druids had wives and children, and the Druid Diviciacus was a family man, while Cæsar says not a word of community life among the Druids. The hostility of Christianity to the Druids would have prevented any copying of their system, and Irish monasticism was modelled on that of the Continent. Druidic organisation probably denoted no more than that the Druids were bound by certain ties, that they were graded in different ranks or according to their functions, and that they practised a series of common cults. In Gaul one chief Druid had authority over the others, the position being an elective one. (Cæsar, vi. 13.)



The insular Druids may have been similarly organised, since we hear of a chief Druid, primus magus, while the Filid had an Ard-file, or chief, elected to his office. (Trip. Life, ii. 325, i. 52, ii. 402; IT i. 373; RC xxvi. 33. The title rig-file, "king poet," sometimes occurs.) The priesthood was not a caste, but was open to those who showed aptitude for it. There was a long novitiate, extending even to twenty years, just as, in Ireland, the novitiate of the File lasted from seven to twelve years. (Cæsar, vi. 14.)

The Druids of Gaul assembled annually in a central spot, and there settled disputes, because they were regarded as the most just of men. (Cæsar, vi. 13; Strabo, iv. 4. 4.) Individual Druids also decided disputes or sat as judges in cases of murder. How far it was obligatory to bring causes before them is unknown, but those who did not submit to a decision were interdicted from the sacrifices, and all shunned them. In other words, they were tabued. A magico-religious sanction thus enforced the judgments of the Druids.

In Galatia the twelve tetrarchs had a council of three hundred men, and met in a place called Drunemeton to try cases of murder. (Strabo, xii. 5. 2.) Whether it is philologically permissible to connect Dru- with the corresponding syllable in "Druid" or not, the likeness to the Gaulish assembly at a "consecrated place," perhaps a grove (nemeton), is obvious. We do not know that Irish Druids were judges, but the Filid exercised judgments, and this may be a relic of their con-nection with the Druids. (Their judicial powers were taken from them because their speech had become obscure. Perhaps they gave their judgments in archaic language.)

Diodorus describes the Druids exhorting combatants to peace, and taming them like wild beasts by enchantment. (Diod. Sic. v. 31.) This suggests interference to prevent the devastating power of the blood-feud or of tribal wars. They also appear to have exercised authority in the election of rulers. Convictolitanis was elected to the magistracy by the priests in Gaul, "according to the custom of the State." (1 Cæsar, vii. 83.) In Ireland, after partaking of the flesh of a white bull, probably a sacrificial animal, a man lay down to sleep, while four Druids chanted over him "to render his witness truthful." He then saw in a vision the person who should be elected king, and what he was doing at the moment.  Possibly the Druids used hypnotic suggestion; the medium was apparently clairvoyant. Dio Chrysostom alleges that kings were ministers of the Druids, and could do nothing without them. (Dio, Orat. xlix.)

This agrees on the whole with the witness of Irish texts. Druids always accompany the king, and have great influence over him. According to a passage in the Táin, "the men of Ulster must not speak before the king, the king must not speak before his Druid," and even Conchobar was silent until the Druid Cathbad had spoken. This power, resembling that of many other priesthoods, must have helped to balance that of the warrior class, and it is the more credible when we recall the fact that the Druids claimed to have made the universe. 


The priest-kingship may have been an old Celtic institution, and this would explain why, once the offices were separated, priests had or claimed so much political power. That political power must have been enhanced by their position as teachers, and it is safe to say that submission to their powers was inculcated by them. Both in Gaul and in Ireland they taught others than those who intended to become Druids. (Cæsar, vi. 13, 14)

As has been seen, their teachings were not written down, but transmitted orally. They taught immortality, believing that thus men would be roused to valour, buttressing patriotism with dogma. They also imparted "many things regarding the stars and their motions, the extent of the universe and the earth, the nature of things, and the power and might of the immortal gods." Strabo also speaks of their teaching in moral science. (Cæsar, vi. 14; Strabo, iv. 4. 4.)

As has been seen, it is easy to exaggerate all this. Their astronomy was probably of a humble kind and mingled with astrology; their natural philosophy a mass of cosmogonic myths and speculations; their theology was rather mythology; their moral philosophy a series of maxims such as are found in all barbaric communities. Their medical lore, to judge from what Pliny says, was largely magical. Some Druids, e.g. in the south of Gaul, may have had access to classical learning, and Cæsar speaks of the use of Greek characters among them. This could hardly have been general, and in any case must have superseded the use of a native script, to which the use of ogams in Ireland, and perhaps also in Gaul,was supple-mentary. The Irish Druids may have had written books, for King Loegaire desired that S.Patrick's books and those of the Druids should be submitted to the ordeal by water as a test of their owners' claims. (Trip. Life, 284.)

In religious affairs the Druids were supreme, since they alone "knew the gods and divinities of heaven." (Lucan, i. 451.) They superintended and arranged all rites and attended to "public and private sacrifices," and " no sacrifice was complete without the intervention of a Druid." (Diod. v. 31. 4; cf. Cæsar, vi. 13, 16; Strabo, iv. 4. 5.) The dark and cruel rites of the Druids struck the Romans with horror, and they form a curious contrast to their alleged "philosophy."

They used divination and had regular formulæ of incantation as well as ritual acts by which they looked into the future.  Before all matters of importance, especially before warlike expeditions, their advice was sought because they could scan the future.

Name-giving and a species of baptism were performed by the Druids or on their initiative. Many examples of this occur in Irish texts, thus of Conall Cernach it is said, "Druids came to baptize the child into heathenism, and they sang the heathen baptism (baithis geintlídhe) over the little child," and of Ailill that he was "baptized in Druidic streams."  In a Welsh story we read that Gwri was "baptized with the baptism which was usual at that time." Similar illustrations are common at name-giving among many races, and it is probable that the custom in the Hebrides of the midwife dropping three drops of water on the child in Nomine and giving it a temporary name, is a survival of this practice. The regular baptism takes place later, but this preliminary rite keeps off fairies and ensures burial in consecrated ground, just as the pagan rite was protective and admitted to the tribal privileges.

In the burial rites, which in Ireland consisted of a lament, sacrifices, and raising a stone inscribed with ogams over the grave, Druids took part. The Druid Dergdamsa pronounced a discourse over the Ossianic hero Mag-neid, buried him with his arms, and chanted a rune. The ogam inscription would also be of Druidic composition, and as no sacrifice was complete without the intervention of Druids, they must also have assisted at the lavish sacrifices which occurred at Celtic funerals.

Pliny's words, "the Druids and that race of prophets and doctors," suggest that the medical art may have been in the hands of a special class of Druids, though all may have had a smattering of it. It was mainly concerned with the use of herbs, and was mixed up with magical rites, which may have been regarded as of more importance than the actual medicines used.  In Ireland Druids also practiced the healing art. Thus when Cúchulainn was ill, Emer said, "If it had been Fergus, Cúchulainn would have taken no rest till he had found a Druid able to discover the cause of that illness."  But other persons, not referred to as Druids, are mentioned as healers, one of them a woman, perhaps a reminiscence of the time when the art was practiced by women.  These healers may, however, have been attached to the Druidic corporation in much the same way as were the bards.

The Religion of the Ancient Celts, John Arnott MacCulloch, Chapter XX. [1911]

Thanks to Ellen Evert Hopman, for the pictures of the female druids, more on female druids: HERE

Gaelic Folklore (32): Horses, Swine and Magical Birds: The Role of Animals in the Mabinogion




Horses, Swine And Magical Birds: The Role Of Animals In The Mabinogion. 

Chapter One: Horses in the Mabinogion.  

Perhaps the most predominant animal within the entire Mabinogion collection is the horse, appearing in ten of the eleven tales. Horses occur primarily as means of transportation and hunting although they also function as an important aspect of battle where fighting on horseback takes place.

They play a particularly significant role in the narratives of Rhiannon and Branwen in Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi as well as in Culhwch ac Olwen and Historia Peredur vab Efrawg. Horses can also be seen as playing an important role in the narrative structure, particularly in Breuddwyd Rhonabwy and at times are vividly described.

The descriptions of horses ‘suggest that the authors were drawing on a well-established narrative technique which could be elaborated or modified to suit particular circumstances.’ Such descriptions may include the rider, the type of horse and varied adjectives detailing colour, size, gait and spirit such as the ‘shiny black, wide-nostrilled, swift-moving palfrey with a pace steady and stately, sure-footed and lively’ found in Peredur.

The relatively few descriptive passages relating to human appearance make those of the horses particularly stand out, but what ‘particular circumstances’ inspired the authors/redactors of these medieval tales to convey such lively descriptions of their character’s mounts? In a more generalised context of animals in the Middle Ages, Joyce Salisbury suggests that horses were the ‘highest-status animals’ and that animals, as a form of property, were used to ‘enhance the status of their owners’, with colouring and general appearance reflecting either poorly or positively upon them.

 Descriptions of horses in the Mabinogion, then, ranging from a ‘black-hoofed, high-headed’ or ‘fine black gascon horse… with a saddle of beechwood’ to a ‘lean, sweaty’ or even ‘scraggy horse’ are perhaps meant to convey to the reader or listener something about the status of their owners or riders.

The importance of rank and status in the Mabinogion can be clearly discerned in the initial exchange between Pwyll and Arawn in the first branch, the emphasis placed on which may be underscored by the difference in the quality of their horses – Pwyll’s is not even mentioned, merely assumed, while Arawn’s mount is described as a ‘large dapple-grey horse’ with emphasis, perhaps, on the ‘large’ to indicate his higher rank. The idea of horses denoting rank is made more explicit in Peredur in the marked difference between his ‘untidy’ horse and the steeds of Arthur’s knights. Indeed, it has been suggested that medieval literature depicts ‘the increased preoccupation with a horse’s appearance as a sign of status’, such as in Beowulf where their trappings become more significant than the horses themselves. Within the Mabinogion the distinctive horse colourings and trappings in Breuddwyd Rhonabwy and the later romances certainly distinguish their riders, suggestive of their status and perhaps also their possible aggressiveness such as the fearsome black knights of Owain, for a horse’s spirit is ‘often conveyed by the movement of the animal, which in turn reflects the hero’s own temperament’. Such attributes as ‘high-spirited, impatient’ or ‘bold-paced’ may, then, say much about the personalities of their riders.

Colour, the ‘most striking and obvious characteristic’, is perhaps the most significant aspect of the descriptions of the horses, for whenever ‘horses are described in the tales, then a colour term follows almost without fail’. This is particularly noteworthy in Chwedl Geraint ab Erbin and Breuddwyd Rhonabwy, the latter of which describes a variety of brightly coloured horses including red, black and white, yellow and green and dapple-grey, often with their legs from the ‘kneecaps downwards’ being a different colour to their bodies. Such fantastic colourings may perhaps be explained by the fact that they are seen in a dream, although it has been argued that the tale does present ‘an account of knights and horses with a firm basis in reality’. It is clearly stated at the close of the tale that ‘no one knows the dream – neither poet nor storyteller – without a book, because of the number of colours on the horses, and the many unusual colours both on the armour and the trappings’, indicating the importance of such colourful horses to the structure of the tale which perhaps signify the statuses of their often unnamed riders. The importance of horse colour is also highlighted in a Welsh treatise on horses dating to the sixteenth century which details how ‘to choose a horse by his colour’, listing horses by colours such as dapple-grey and white with their appropriate corresponding characteristics.

While horse colouring may imply ‘prestige and status’, particularly the rarer hues, in ‘some cases the colour may well have a symbolic significance, too’. The horses of Arawn and Rhiannon in the first branch, for example, may denote the otherworldly origins of their owners. Dapple-grey, the colour of Arawn’s mount can be compared to the colour of horses often ridden by fairies in both Welsh legends and later ballads and folk tales from England, while Rhiannon’s horse is white, a colour often used as a ‘marker’ to ‘indicate the shift between the real world and the otherworld.’ Rhiannon’s initial, rather iconic appearance riding ‘a big, tall, pale-white horse’, suggests her regal status and presents her as somewhat mysterious, elusive and otherworldly, particularly as she manifests in response to Pwyll seating himself upon Gorsedd Arberth where local superstition states that a nobleman will either be ‘wounded or injured, or else he will see something wonderful.’ Her large horse of otherworldly hue is central to this ‘wonderful’ appearance and her first meeting with Pwyll, magically transporting her into his realm while demonstrating her competent riding skills. Rhiannon and her horse present more than just a visual wonder, however, for Pwyll’s men, try as they may, cannot catch up with her despite the fact that anyone ‘who saw it would think that the horse had a slow, steady pace’. Over the course of three evenings she appears and is pursued in some detail; firstly on foot and the court’s fastest steed, the swiftest known in the realm, then on the fastest horse of the field, yet no matter how each horse was spurred, ‘the further she drew away’ effortlessly, although her ‘pace was no faster than before’. Pwyll thoughtfully discerns that ‘there is some magical explanation here’, hinting at the supernatural aspect of Rhiannon’s character as well as her horse’s gait, which may be linked to the time distortion which often occurs in otherworldly journeys and adventures. Finally Pwyll himself follows on his own ‘spirited, prancing horse’, thinking ‘at the second leap or the third he would catch up with her’, yet suffers the same defeat until he calls out for her to wait, upon which she assertively replies ‘I will wait gladly… and it would have been better for the horse if you had asked me that a while ago!’

Horses, then, are an important catalyst in their relationship, enabling Rhiannon to engineer their meeting in such a way that Pwyll has to physically pursue her and even begin their first conversation which, conducted on horseback, sets the tone for their subsequent encounters. The horses involved in this meeting further signify the author/redactor’s understanding of horsemanship and significantly add to the lively pace of this memorable portion of the tale.

The equine symbolism which continues to pervade Rhiannon’s story to an extent is also evident during her later punishment for supposed infanticide of being forced to act like a horse, sitting by the mounting block and offering to carry visitors to the court on her back, although ‘rarely’ does anyone actually take up her offer. Such symbolism is further demonstrated in the circumstances surrounding the supernatural abduction and subsequent recovery of her new born son; he is discovered in the stable of Teyrnon whose mare, the most handsome horse in his kingdom, foals every May eve yet her offspring mysteriously vanish. Resolving to discover the fate of his foals, Teyrnon’s ensuing vigil finds him battling a mysterious claw attempting to steal the new born foal. Slicing off part of the claw he discovers not only his foal but also a baby boy, whom he rears with his wife. The boy grows unusually rapidly and shows such interest in the horses that he is gifted with the one born on May eve. His true identity is then discovered and riding his own horse he is restored to Rhiannon, so ending her punishment. Horse symbolism can also be glimpsed in the nature of her later imprisonment in the third branch which links her tale together.

The horse elements of Rhiannon’s tale have led commentators such as Anwyl and Gruffydd to see parallels between Rhiannon and the Celtic horse goddess Epona, attempting to explain some of the equine associations inherent in her tale. However, this remains a matter of interesting conjecture with little but speculation, however convincing, to prove such theories.

Rhiannon’s horse symbolism does work on a narrative level nonetheless, with her magical white horse indicating not only her regal and otherworldly status but also acting as a catalyst enabling her meeting with Pwyll. In addition, the missing foals are a catalyst to the recovery of her son and the nature of horses also figure in her punishments. Rhiannon herself also acts as something of a catalyst to Pwyll, steering his impetuosity towards the good sense his name implies, which all stems from their initial meeting on horseback. Thus it is clear that horses play a significant role in the first branch, acting as plot devices that enhance the narrative, adding tension, pace and at times a supernatural element.

Magical horses can also be seen elsewhere in the Mabinogion such as that belonging to Iddog son of Mynio in Breuddwyd Rhonabwy, which has the curious ability to control distance with its breath: as ‘the horse breathed out, the men moved further away from him; but as he breathed in, they came closer to him, right to the horse’s chest’. This ability ensures that Rhonabwy converses with Iddog and travels with him to meet Arthur and is again indicative of magical ability and the distortion of time and distance often associated with the Otherworld, comparable to Rhiannon’s horse.

Other potentially enchanted steeds include ‘Gwyn Myngddwn’, meaning ‘White Dark Mane’ who is ‘as swift as a wave’ and ‘Du’ meaning ‘Black’,  the acquisition of whom form part of the impossible seeming tasks required to win the giant’s daughter in Culhwch and allow Ysbaddaden to be slain.

The need for these miraculously swift horses also demonstrates the fast, ferocious nature of the boar they are required to help hunt and whilst Arthur gathers ‘every choice steed’ to assist, it is Mabon riding Gwyn Myngddwn who manages to snatch the required razor from between the boar’s ears; hence this swift horse also enables another task to be partially fulfilled, helping bring the tale to its conclusion. Arthur’s own mount is named as Llamrei, meaning ‘Grey or Swift Leaper’, interestingly a mare rather than a warhorse although she enables four of Arthur’s injured men to be born away from the cave of the Very Black Witch during another task, indicating her reliable capability and suggesting her great size.

Though unnamed, horses form a central part of the narrative of the second branch where they form a significant pivot upon which the tale turns. Following the marriage of Matholwch and Branwen his horses are billeted in ‘every region as far as the sea’. Upon enquiring who these horses belong to, Efnysien learns of his sister’s marriage and is insulted at not being consulted, although apparently present at Matholwch’s arrival. He declares ‘Is that what they have done with such a fine maiden, and my sister at that, given her away without my permission? They could not have insulted me more,’ he said. Then he went for the horses, and cut their lips to the teeth, and their ears down to their heads, and their tales to their backs; and where he could get a grip on the eyelids, he cut them to the bone. And in that way he maimed the horses, so that they were no good for anything. This rather startling insult to the Irish king, particularly after his marriage to Branwen, creates a great deal of tension within the tale which is only temporarily diffused by Bendigeidfran distancing himself from Efnysien’s actions and offering suitable compensation, primarily in the form of Matholwch’s kingly honour-price and new horses, although additionally giving him a magical cauldron with regenerative powers. The horses ‘were handed over to him, so long as there were tame horses to give’, after which foals are taken from another area ‘called Talebolion from then on’, attempting an onomastic explanation based on the horse theme. The mutilation of the horses is an international folk tale motif and its use here indicates the importance of both horses and honour, in addition to setting up the plot for the remainder of the tale, for during Branwen’s second year of marriage ‘there was a murmuring of dissatisfaction in Ireland because of the insult that Matholwch had received in Wales, and the disgrace he had suffered regarding his horses’. This leads to Branwen being punished for the matter until she eventually sends word home and a devastating war ensues, after which only seven men return to Britain. As high status animals horses clearly play an integral role in the ‘unforgivable insult… promoting the catastrophic hostility between Britain and Ireland’, demonstrating their significance to the narrative structure.


During the third branch horses only explicitly appear at the close of the tale where a priest rides ‘a well-equipped horse’ and Llwyd attempts to exchange ‘seven horses’ for the thieving mouse Manawydan has caught, so demonstrating their desirability and value.

However, their presence is repeatedly implied in relation to saddle-making and the varied episodes of hunting. The oldest form of hunting was with hounds and mounted hunters and certainly dogs are a recurring feature of hunting practices in the Mabinogion, even during the enchantment of the third branch when in theory only ‘wild animals’ remained. We can perhaps, then, also assume the presence of horses at many of the hunts, even when not clearly depicted. Indeed, in Breuddwyd Macsen Wledig horses are not described in the opening hunting episode which leads to Maxen’s dream, yet the emperor’s palfrey is mentioned on their journey home, confirming their presence. Furthermore, in the fourth branch we are told that Gronw’s hunting party consisted of hounds, huntsmen and ‘a band of men of foot’, suggesting that the main huntsmen were indeed mounted riders. This particular hunt is also the catalyst for Gronw and Blodeuedd to meet and commit adultery and attempted murder.

In the same tale Gwydion ‘conjured up twelve stallions’ with saddles and bridles and accompanying hounds with leashes in order to convince Pryderi to exchange his pigs. The enchantment only lasts one night, however, resulting in a war killing many ‘men, and their horses’. After raising Lleu so ‘he could ride every horse’, Gwydion also tricks Aranrhod into arming Lleu who was ‘pining for horses and weapons’, so illustrating the significance of acquiring arms and a mount in the maturation of a hero which can also be discerned in Peredur. As an integral part of warfare, ‘no one dared mention horses’ to the young Peredur whose mother was anxious to shield him from the dangers of battles and tournaments. Perhaps inevitably he meets some of Arthur’s knights and aspires to become one himself, taking a pack horse and forming a makeshift saddle and trappings in imitation of the knights, indicative of the noble status he wishes to acquire. The immature and somewhat ridiculous nature of his poorly-conceived new image is underlined, however, when he enters Arthur’s hall ‘on a bony, dapple-grey nag with its untidy, slovenly trappings’, appearing in stark contrast not only to the knights but also to other heroes in the Mabinogion, notably Culhwch, of whom this image may be a parody. Peredur is told his ‘horse and weapons are too untidy’ to be a knight, again suggesting the power of status implied by great horses, but his humble mount nonetheless marks the beginnings of his journey. Ultimately he receives a horse, weapons and instruction from one of the witches of Caerloyw whom he was fated to kill.

Contrasting with the image of Peredur is the elaborate description of Culhwch, centring on ‘a steed with a gleaming grey head, four winters old, well-jointed stride, shell-like hoofs, and a tubular gold bridle-bit in its mouth, with a precious gold saddle’. This image of ‘the youthful hero par excellence… is conveyed by a telling sequence of association: horse, weapons, dogs, mantle, and foot-gear’; personal description is superfluous as the quality and youth of the horse imply much. Furthermore his ‘steed’s four hoofs would cut out four clods, like four swallows in the air above him, sometimes in front of him, sometimes behind him’, additionally enhancing his vivid description. Proceeding to make a ‘brash and aggressive’ entrance at court, Culhwch rides straight into the hall rather than dismounting first, ‘contrary to royal custom and all the canons of good behaviour’, yet making a bold statement of which his horse is an integral part.

Horses are again indicative of status and character in Geraint, whose horse was ‘a willow-grey colt, enormous in size… The horse was tall and stately, swift and lively, with a short steady step’. Geraint meets with Gwenhwyfar and one of her maidens whose presence alone in the forest is explained by the lack of horses left in the stable after they overslept on the morning of the stag hunt. They then encounter a dwarf riding a big, sturdy horse, powerful, wide-nostrilled, ground-devouring, courageous, and in the dwarf’s hand there was a whip. Near the dwarf they could see a woman on a horse, pale-white and handsome with pace smooth and stately, and she was dressed in a garment of brocaded silk. And close to her a knight on a great, muddy charger, with heavy, shining armour on him and his horse. And they were sure that they had never seen a man and horse and armour whose size impressed them more.

This is surely among the most vivid descriptions of horses in the Mabinogion, clearly setting out the differences between the riders and indicating that the dwarf, controlling such a large horse, is not to be under-estimated. The differing status of all the characters becomes further apparent when the dwarf strikes both Gwenhwyfar’s maiden and Geraint for attempting to speak with the knight as their ‘status is not high enough’. Once again, this meeting on horseback becomes the catalyst for further adventures, as do the horseback meetings of Pwyll with both Arawn and Rhiannon. There are several other detailed horse descriptions in Geraint including ‘even-paced, high-spirited but manageable’, often demonstrating the ‘attributes conforming to the virtues of a good horse.’

The notion of good horses further arises in Owain where Cynon is given a ‘dark-brown palfrey with a bright red mane on him, as red as lichen’, so good he ‘would not exchange it for the best palfrey in the Island of Britain’. He receives this favoured horse after his own mount is taken by a black knight on a ‘pure black horse’, the first of many such fights on horseback which are a recurring theme throughout this tale.

When Owain becomes the new black knight he fights all Arthur’s retinue in turn on horseback, culminating with Gwalchmai whom he battles for three days in fairly detailed description. Ultimately these fights restore Owain to Arthur’s company but result in him leaving the Countess of the Fountain. He is later berated for this by a maiden ‘on a bay horse with a curly mane that reached the ground’, triggering the next stage of Owain’s adventures. Horses in this tale, then, can be viewed as catalysts for change based on their integral roles in the unfolding action, where they provide both a means of transportation and a method of fighting, comparable to the first branch where Pwyll both meets Rhiannon and fights Hafgan on horseback. Owain also gives us the rather graphic image of a horse being severed in two by a portcullis, leaving Owain trapped. This strange aspect of the tale, however, significantly furthers the narrative by bringing about Owain’s first meeting with Luned. She not only gives him a magic ring of invisibility enabling his escape but continues to aid him, particularly in his pursuit of the Lady of the fountain.

Horses clearly play an integral part in the Mabinogion tales, particularly in relation to hunting, fighting and travel, allowing both male and female characters to move about in furtherance of their own schemes, with female riders noted in several tales including all three romances. They also, however, feature in other ways such as when ‘the stamping of the horses’ and other noises act as a catalyst waking the emperor Maxen from his dream of Elen. They also provide the important means of conveying messengers to the emperor once Elen is found in reality, the urgency of which is demonstrated by the fact that as ‘their horses failed, they left them behind and bought new ones’, additionally signifying the wealth of the emperor.

In Breuddwyd Rhonabwy, a tale which ‘dramatically evokes the sense of horsemen rushing to and fro’, a mounted horse is ‘struck on its nostrils’ as a way of stopping the rider to both reprove him for splashing water over Arthur and to offer ‘advice’ on the matter. Finally, in Geraint's tale he demonstrates his continued prowess by overcomes a series of mounted knights, whereupon he gives the increasing numbers of horses to Enid to drive in front of her as part of his efforts to test her love.

Elsewhere in medieval Welsh manuscripts horses also feature in poetry, notably in Y Gododdin where warriors fight on horseback, Canu y Meirch and works by the Poets of the Princes. Horses in the latter carry messages or even the poets themselves to their loves and are a strong feature in poems praising their patrons where they are both ‘prestigious objects’ indicative of munificence and wealth and eager warhorses symbolizing ‘their owners’ military might’, the most esteemed qualities of which are ‘swiftness and spiritedness’. Horses are also referred to in detail in poems requesting them as gifts from patrons including Cistercian abbots, often specifying ‘colour or temperament or pedigree’ and they also feature strongly in Trioedd Ynys Prydein (The Triads of the Island of Britain).

Dating in extant form from the thirteenth century onwards yet clearly comprising fragments of earlier tradition, the triads contain a distinct group known as Trioedd y Meirch or the triads of the horses, listing ‘the names of horses belonging to the traditional heroes’, many of which have fabulous characteristics. Interestingly, the ‘horses’ names are all of a descriptive nature’ and ‘most frequently give their colours’, again indicating the importance of this characteristic as demonstrated in the Mabinogion where horse colours recur although horse names are rare, only featuring in Culhwch in the form of Llamrei, Gwyn Myngddwn and Du who also feature in Trioedd y Meirch.The triad of the three bestowed horses also alludes to the pale yellow horse of Lleu, perhaps recording an additional or variant detail of his acquisition of arms to that seen in the fourth branch. Throughout the triads horses are presented with a ‘status equivalent to that of their masters’, emphasising the prestige of horses and suggesting ‘the close bond between the warrior and his steed’.

In Irish literature horses are frequently described as ‘the companions of warriors’ whose ‘warlike attributes and physical prowess were often described in as much detail as their human counterparts’. Such detailed descriptions can be seen in the Táin Bó Cuailnge, Bricriu’s Feast and The Wooing of Etain and are comparable with descriptions in the Welsh tales. Swift horses also feature and ‘Fantastically coloured horses are a regular feature of the happy Celtic Otherworld’.

Irish tradition furthermore records how Macha was forced to act like a horse (cf. Rhiannon) by racing those of the king, even though heavily pregnant, while The Grey of Macha and The Black of Saingliu are born at the same time as Cú Chulainn and gifted to him while still a young boy, comparable to Pryderi and the foal. Hence the roles of horses are not dissimilar to those in Welsh tradition.

Horses were undoubtedly significant creatures at the time the Mabinogion tales were recorded in medieval Wales and indeed the triads indicate ‘the honourable and important role played by the horse in all aspects of medieval life’. Furthermore the law texts, Cyfraith Hywel, feature references to horses ‘scattered throughout’ in varied contexts, including the tractate on the ‘Value of Wild and Tame’ which offers ‘direct information about different kinds of horse’. Extant poetry also indicates that ‘the wealthiest members of Welsh society had been breeding horses for many centuries’ and selective horse breeding in the Middle Ages not only led to increasingly stronger and larger horses but also those with distinctive features and characteristics, including temperament, that would enhance the status of their owners.

Further in the Celtic past horses also ‘quite clearly, had a very special significance’, with riding thought to have been ‘prestigious’ and horsemen ‘people of high status’. Horses moreover played ‘a major role in Celtic culture and religion’ and Epona, always depicted with a horse, is thought to have been a widely revered horse goddess whose name is derived from the Celtic word for horse. There is also ‘substantial evidence for ritual associated with horses’ such as horse burials and horse symbolism in artwork and iconography, including stone reliefs and bronze statues found throughout the ancient Celtic world. In all, the ‘evidence of literature and archaeology point to the high status accorded to horses in Celtic society’ which is reflected to an extent in the Mabinogion.

Horses clearly play a dominant role in the Mabinogion tales. They provide a means of transportation for the characters and their messengers, play a significant role in hunting as well as combat and form part of crucial meetings. They can be perceived as an integral and dynamic aspect of narrative style and structure, helping to maintain the motion of the plot and often having pivotal roles such as in the mutilation of the horses, a situation which has many consequences and brings out the true natures of several characters including Bran and Matholwch. Horses are also seen as desirable possessions, particularly in the gift exchanges between Pwyll and Arawn in the first branch and furthermore their descriptions in the form of appearance (notably colour), spirit and trappings often convey something significant regarding their riders, particularly linked to status and temperament. Indeed, ‘the horse reflects the dual qualities of the hero himself – both his prowess and his generosity’, especially as horses are often exchanged as gifts. Therefore the higher quality horses may indicate far more than just higher status. The role of horses is clearly important in these medieval tales which also hint at their deeper significance in both medieval Welsh and ancient Celtic society.

Chapter Two: Swine in the Mabinogion 

Swine are a significant feature of the Mabinogion, particularly in Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi where they play an important role in the tales of both Pryderi and Gwydion, but they are most predominant perhaps in the oldest narrative of the corpus, Culhwch ac Olwen.

The main protagonist of the tale, Culhwch, is the most closely associated character with these animals due to the nature of his birth for his mother, Goleuddydd, lived wild during her pregnancy and gave birth in or near a pig sty: from the hour she became pregnant she went mad, and did not go near any dwelling. When her time came, her senses returned to her. This happened in a place where a swineherd was tending a herd of pigs. And out of fear of the pigs the queen gave birth. And the swineherd took the boy until he came to court. And the boy was baptized, and was named Culhwch because he was found in a pig-run. But the boy was of noble descent.

Hence we learn that Goleuddydd’s pregnancy with Culhwch caused her temporary loss of sanity, resulting in her leaving the safety of the court and living wild until the baby was born. Her fear of the swine appears to have acted as a catalyst or inducement to her actually giving birth on the spot, although why tended pigs should have caused her such fear is a matter of conjecture. We are also to assume from the explanation given regarding Culhwch’s naming that his birth was actually amongst the pigs themselves in the sty. Sioned Davies, however, has noted that while hwch means ‘pig’; cul only meant ‘sty’ or ‘run’ from the fourteenth century, hence the more likely interpretation of his name at the time the tale was recorded was actually ‘slender’ or ‘lean’ pig rather than ‘pig run’, suggesting he was actually named as one of the piglets. Nonetheless his naming, which is a crucial stage of a hero’s development as demonstrated in the fourth branch, indicates his origins and possibly also underlines his inherent nature, as perhaps does the fact that he was initially reared by a swineherd. This idea has been taken a stage further by Eric Hamp, suggesting that in the original tale ‘It is clear that Culhwch literally was a pig’, his apparent nobility indicating an important pig at that, while Patrick Ford has also considered Culhwch’s possible association with Moccus, the Celtic swine god. Such ideas, however, while interesting are inconclusive, yet it is clear from the outset that the figure of Culhwch is closely linked with swine.

It is possible to discern a similarity in circumstances, to a point, between the finding and rearing of both Culhwch and Pryderi, for both are discovered with animals - Culhwch with swine and Pryderi horses - and are initially raised and then brought to court by the animals’ owners. Indeed, it has been observed that the ‘link between Culhwch’s birth and pigs betrays supernatural influence similar to that of Pryderi and the foal’ and Culhwch, like many of the characters in his tale, appears to have his own unusual abilities which can be seen in his threat to make all the women in the land barren should he not be admitted to Arthur’s court. From the beginning, though, ‘Culhwch’s destiny is inextricably linked with pigs’ and as well as being connected with his birth and naming, swine are also catalysts for the main action of the tale, moving the plot along and providing the many of the adventures involved in his quest for Olwen, the giant’s daughter. Ysbaddaden Bencawr sets Culhwch a series of impossible sounding tasks including hunting wild boar, intended to get Culhwch killed in the process and therefore prevent his union with Olwen and his own subsequent death.

However, it is the completion of a number of these tasks with the aid of his cousin Arthur that allow the giant to be killed and Culhwch to marry his bride. The tasks mainly revolve around preparations for the wedding and include several animals such as varied oxen, birds and bees as well as swine. Tasks central to the entire tale are two boar hunts, unsurprising perhaps for a hero so linked with pigs; indeed, his intended death was perhaps meant to be as connected to swine as his birth, and certainly swine are a central feature at both the commencement and climax of the tale.

The first hunt is for ‘Ysgithrwyn Pen Baedd’, meaning ‘White Tusk Chief of Boars’, whose tusk is required to shave Ysbaddaden for the wedding and must be extracted whilst Ysgithrwyn is still alive. Nonetheless, an axe is used to ‘split his head in two’ in order to acquire the tusk and furthermore it ‘was not the dogs that Ysbaddaden had demanded of Culhwch that killed the boar but Cafall, Arthur’s own dog’, indicating that the tasks are not always accomplished in the manner dictated; indeed, the tasks are not attempted in order and not all of them are achieved before Ysbaddaden is overcome. Neither is Culhwch directly involved although the quests are completed for his benefit, for, unless we are to simply assume his presence even if he does not actively participate, he effectively drops out of the story until the final confrontation with the giant, leaving the tasks to be achieved by Arthur and his retinue. Such absence or inaction, however, naturally ensures that Culhwch is not slain whilst hunting boar.

The second boar hunt, for ‘Twrch Trwyth, son of Taredd Wledig’, is given in much more detail, with many of the remaining tasks associated with acquiring particular hunters, horses, hounds and equipment in order to undertake this hunt successfully. An earlier form of the boar’s name, trwyd rather than trwyth, is ‘cognate with the Irish triath meaning ‘king’ or ‘boar’’ and indeed early Irish sources name ‘Torc Triath, king of the boars of Ireland’, clearly a parallel figure. Furthermore, Twrch Trwyth has already ‘destroyed one-third of Ireland’ before he is found and goes on to devastate a further fifth of the country during the hunt before moving on to Wales and finally Cornwall in a somewhat epic chase. The real significance of his name, however, is highlighted when we learn that he was no mere animal, but was in fact ‘a king, and for his sins God changed him into a swine’. This, then, is no ordinary wild boar but a human transformed into an animal as punishment, to be hunted as a beast, although what sins warranted such a penance are left untold. He ‘plays a leading role’ in the tale where ‘the author seems at times to feel some pity for him, as well as awe and respect’.

Despite this king’s debasement into animal form and the havoc and desolation he subsequently wreaks, he still honourably defends his ‘seven little pigs’. Six of these are named including Grugyn Gwrych Eraint (Grugyn Silver-bristle), whose ‘bristles were like wings of silver, and one could see the path he took through woods and over fields by the way his bristles glittered’. Nowhere is Twrch Trwyth himself explicitly described, yet the pace of the ferocious hunt is suggestive of an extremely fast and aggressive animal and the repetition of ‘little’ in terms of his pigs implies that the boar himself was unusually large.

The fact that Arthur ‘gathered together every warrior… every choice hound and celebrated steed’ to assist in the arduous hunt further demonstrates the boar’s strength and ferocity. Indeed, ‘Arthur himself fought against him, for nine nights and nine days’, only killing a single piglet.

On two separate occasions characters transform themselves into the likeness of a bird in order to get close to Twrch Trwyth; Menw to determine that the treasures between the boar’s ears are actually present before engaging him and Gwrhyr in order to parley with him. Miranda Green suggests that Gwrhyr shape-shifts to better communicate with the boar, but this is clearly unnecessary as we have already been told he can speak with birds and beasts; surely it is simply a way to get close enough to Twrch Trwyth without risking injury, underlining the dangerous nature of the boar whose bristles appear to be laced with poison. It is Grugyn who replies ‘God has done us enough harm by shaping us in this image, without you too coming to fight against us’, indicating that the piglets too were transmogrified men and reinforcing the scope of their punishment.

The hunt ‘ends virtually in a draw between Arthur and the boar, although the carnage on both sides is great’ and many casualties are named including the piglets, with Twrch Trwyth ultimately and ambiguously ‘driven straight into the sea’, never to return. However, ‘the purpose of hunting the boar was not, in any case, to kill him, but to obtain the valuable treasures from between his ears’ in the form of the comb, razor and shears which ‘appear to symbolize his regal status’ and are eventually laboriously snatched prior to his disappearance. These were to be procured to trim the giant’s hair in preparation for the wedding feast, similarly to the tusk of Ysgithrwyn for shaving. The role of both boars can thus be clearly seen as catalysts on a narrative level, the achievement of these tasks allowing Culhwch to win his destined bride and Ysbaddaden to be slain. The ‘well-developed’, ‘buoyant, bouncing’, ‘thrilling’ and fast-paced nature of the second boar hunt over a wide geographical area, ‘told with verve and gusto’, also forms the climax of the tale, providing Arthur with the opportunity to vanquish a threatening, near-invincible animal as well as adding a moral element to the tale.

The hunting of Twrch Trwyth by Arthur and his dog Cafall is also referred to in the Mirabilia appended to the Historia Brittonum , indicating that this aspect of the tale was clearly known prior to the recording of Culhwch ac Olwen and therefore existed independently, likely known to its author or redactor. Additional allusions to Twrch Trwyth in Welsh poetry also strengthen the likelihood that the tradition was known and widely distributed in Wales from an early period. Whether or not it was originally part of the tale of Culhwch and the giant’s daughter or was a later accretion is unclear, but the fact remains that the hunt for Twrch Trwyth adds much to the pace and climax of the narrative as it stands in addition to supplementing the boar symbolism already inherent in the tale.

A further function of this boar hunt in Culhwch also appears to be the provision of certain onomastic details, accounting for place names such as Garth Grugyn where Grugyn was slain. It has also been suggested that the rivers Gwys and Twrch ‘commemorate or gave rise to the tales of these mythic boars’. Such topographical lore relating to swine can also be seen in the fourth branch when Gwydion steals the pigs of Pryderi, the journey of which results in the naming of several places such as Mochdref meaning ‘swine-town’.

While Pryderi’s birth is more connected with horses than pigs, in comparison with Culhwch swine also underlie his tale, woven throughout the four branches, although in a somewhat different manner. The narratives of the four branches are linked in various ways, for example by recurring characters such as Pryderi and Rhiannon, but also by the actual pigs themselves which were a gift from the Otherworld stemming from Pwyll’s relationship with Arawn, the King of Annwfn, in the first branch although interestingly we do not learn of this particular gift until the fourth branch:

 ‘Lord,’ said Gwydion, ‘I hear that some kind of creatures that have never been in this island before have arrived in the South.’

‘What are they called?’ said Math.

‘Hobeu, Lord.’

‘What sort of animals are they?’

‘Small animals whose flesh is better than beef. They are small, and their name varies. They are called moch now.’

‘Who owns them?’

‘Pryderi son of Pwyll - they were sent to him from Annwfn by Arawn, king of Annwfn.’

While this is somewhat ambiguous regarding whether it was actually Pwyll or Pryderi who received this otherworldly gift of swine, it is likely to have been given during the time frame of the first branch before Pwyll’s death and Pryderi’s succession, when Pwyll and Arawn exchanged ‘whatever treasure they thought would please the other’. This clearly illustrates the interwoven nature of the narratives of the four branches, each tale adding to our understanding of the others.

During this fourth branch the swine become part of Gwydion’s elaborate schemes in which he convinces Math that they should procure these animals for themselves, although in reality it is merely in order to further his own personal ends. He resorts to trickery and deception upon learning of Pryderi’s agreement with his people that he ‘should not part with them until they had bred twice their number in the land’, temporarily conjuring twelve stallions with saddles and bridles, twelve hounds with collars and leashes and twelve golden shields to convince them to accept an exchange for the pigs, so beginning the ensuing war between Dyfed and Gwynedd. This results not only in the rape of Goewin but also the death of Pryderi in honourable single combat with Gwydion who dishonourably uses enchantment to overcome his foe. The swine, then, act as a catalyst not only for war and Pryderi’s downfall but also for Gwydion’s scheming and subsequent punishment for Goewin’s rape, during which he and his brother Gilfaethwy are transformed by Math into three successive pairs of animals and forced to couple with each other, each time producing offspring. Interestingly, as well as deer and wolves, they are also appropriately turned into a wild boar and sow, this being the only transformation in which Gwydion is forced to live as the female and give birth to a piglet who is described as being ‘big for its age’, comparable perhaps to the growth of Lleu who is raised by Gwydion and also potentially his son, subtly indicated perhaps by the comparable rapid nature of the growth of both his youngsters. The piglet is transformed by Math into human form and named ‘Hychddwn Hir’, derived from ‘hwch’ meaning swine, indicating his true nature, and ‘Hir’ meaning tall.

The swine in Pryderi’s care can thus be seen as a factor not only significantly moving the narratives forwards but also illuminating the natures of the characters, particularly Gwydion, as well as being an integral part of the interweaving plots of the four branches. Furthermore, it is a magical ‘gleaming-white wild boar’ which lures Pryderi and as a result also his mother Rhiannon to their imprisonment in the third branch at the hand of Llwyd, acting as a pivot upon which the story turns. It is possible that the reason Pryderi follows the boar inside the mysterious newly built fort is not merely a rash decision not to abandon his hunting dogs as it appears upon first reading this tale, particularly when contrasted with the prudence of his companion Manawydan who interestingly also appears as part of the hunt for Twrch Trwyth in Culhwch ac Olwen, but rather the desire to seize a potential opportunity to overcome the enchantment of Dyfed and restore his kingdom and people. Indeed, we are told at the close of the first branch that Pryderi ‘ruled the seven cantrefs of Dyfed successfully, beloved by his realm and all those around him’, implying that his nature was in fact far from impetuous and it is unlikely that he was ignorant of the adventures of his father, titled ‘Pwyll Pen Annwfn’. If this was the case then surely Pryderi would have recognised the supernatural nature of the boar, particularly from its otherworldly colouring but also by its actions, clearly attempting to lure them into a strange fort. This can, of course, be further understood upon learning in the fourth branch that pigs themselves apparently originated in the Otherworld, which again Pryderi must have been aware of as his own swine were a gift from Arawn. Thus the presence of the enchanted boar may serve to subtly elucidate the character of Pryderi as well as to highlight Manawydan’s careful wisdom and Cigfa’s ensuing prudence, in addition to providing a vehicle for Llwyd to extract revenge on behalf of Gwawl. If this is the case it surely underlines the significance of the boar and its narrative importance.


Swine also occur in the second branch where Matholwch’s swineherds are the first to observe the spectacle of Bran and his retinue, which includes Pryderi, crossing the Irish Sea. As, according to the fourth branch, pigs were apparently a gift to man from the Otherworld, we can wonder retrospectively where Matholwch acquired his swine, particularly as Math is forced into war to acquire some. The second branch does, however, indicate that Matholwch had at least one encounter with the Otherworld himself when a hunt led him to a mound (cf. the mound of Arberth in the first and third Branches) and an encounter with giants Llasar Llaes Gyfnewid, Cymidei Cymeinfoll and their magical cauldron; therefore it is feasible that he also acquired his swine from the Otherworld.

However, the weakness seemingly inherent in his character indicates that he is unlikely to have received such an otherworldly gift. Nonetheless, however Matholwch acquired his pigs, the swine themselves can be clearly seen to be a thread permeating the narratives of all four branches, particularly in the aspects of story relating to Pryderi where they clearly act as narrative catalysts, providing both Llwyd and Gwydion with their opportunities to plot and scheme and Manawydan and Cigfa to demonstrate their true natures, as well as eventually resulting in the downfall of Pryderi and being a catalyst of the appearance of Aranrhod following Goewin’s rape and the subsequent birth of Lleu.

Ultimately at the close of Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi pigs also assist in Gwydion’s recovery of Lleu. While searching he meets with a swineherd whose sow repeatedly disappears: ‘Every day when the pen is opened she goes out. No one can grab her, and no one knows where she goes, any more than if she sank into the earth.’ Gwydion, perhaps understanding the nature of the sow after spending a whole year in the form of one, decides to follow her ‘brisk pace’, eventually arriving at an oak tree under which she feeds on ‘rotten flesh and maggots’ falling from an eagle at the top of the tree. The eagle turns out to be an emaciated, metamorphosed Lleu who Gwydion restores and cares for but it is interesting that once again a pig features large in Gwydion’s own story, again acting as a catalyst, this time to the recovery of Lleu.

The only mention of pigs other Mabinogion tales is in Historia Peredur vab Efrawg, where they merely serve as a source of food in the form of ‘chops of the flesh of sucking-pigs’. This aspect of the relationship between humans and pigs can also be discerned in Culhwch where ‘Dillus Farfog roasted a wild boar’.

Although swine are absent from the remaining tales, it is clear they play a dominant role in Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi and Culhwch ac Olwen, the latter of which preserves an additional fragment of swine lore relating to ‘Ôl son of Olwydd – seven years before he was born his father’s pigs were stolen, and when he grew to be a man he traced the pigs and brought them home in seven herds’. Elsewhere in Welsh literature Trioedd Ynys Prydein preserve more detail regarding Pryderi who appears as one of the three powerful swineherds. A later version of this triad informs us that Pryderi’s pigs were the seven animals which Pwyll Lord of Annwfn brought, and gave them to Pendaran Dyfed his foster-father. And the place where he used to keep them was in Glyn Cuch in Emlyn. And this is why he was called a Powerful Swineherd: because no one was able either to deceive or force him confirming that it was indeed Pwyll who first brought the swine from Annwfn and also giving us their original number.

Pendaran Dyfed is Pryderi’s foster father in the first branch but his connection to the swine is unknown outside this triad. In the fourth branch Pryderi does of course fall prey to deception which also contradicts the version of the tale recorded here, but nonetheless its inclusion in the triads further reinforces the importance of the tale and the significance of the swine, as well as hinting at the power of the swineherd. Indeed, the tending of pigs by swineherds is a recurring theme, mirroring the fact that ‘pigs had their swine-herds’ in medieval Wales.

The same triad further details the exploits of a pregnant sow whose name, Henwen, ‘Old White’, is perhaps indicative of her magical nature. She leads her swineherd, Coll son of Collfrewy, from Cornwall to various places in Wales, interestingly ‘reversing the itinerary of the Twrch Trwyth’, where she delivers a bee, grain of barley, wolf cub, young eagle, grains of wheat and a kitten who grows into the monstrous Palug’s cat. In the later version Arthur and his men attempt to destroy her due to a prophecy she would bring disruption to the island of Britain, again attesting the importance of swine in Celtic tradition.

Episodes involving following a pig also ‘recur frequently in Celtic Saints’ Lives in which the saint is directed to follow a (white) boar or sow who will lead him to a suitable building site for his church’, further highlighting the supernatural aspects of pigs and their literary roles as catalysts.

Other swine in Welsh literature include the companion of Myrddin during his wild sojourn in the forest as demonstrated in the poems Hoinau and Yr Afallennau where the pig is directly addressed, seemingly indicating just how far he is removed from civilisation, although once a warrior and person of note. This is comparable, perhaps, with Culhwch’s mother, Goleuddydd, also living wild as a result of madness although from pregnancy rather than battle. Pigs, however, do not become her companions but rather her personified fears and the catalyst for her giving birth.

Similarly to medieval Welsh literature, ‘Irish tradition is rich in legends of magic destructive pigs and legendary boars’ including Torc Triath, the pigs of Cruachan and the six swine of Derbrenn who were also transformed men, one of which is named Caelchéis, possibly cognate with Culhwch. In particular ‘Pig-hunting appears in many early Irish tales, especially of the Fianna’, such as the hunts for the boars of Formael and Ben Gulban, the latter famously leading to the death of Diarmaid. Indeed, ‘Fenian warriors are constantly portrayed as hunting not only powerful boars, but tremendous, transformed otherworld animals, whose purpose seems to be to lead the heroes to some otherworld abode’, a porcine role also glimpsed within the Mabinogion. Irish tradition moreover ‘attributes the introduction of pigs to Ireland to the gods, the Tuatha Dé Danann’, comparable to their otherworldly origins in Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi, and pigs also occur in place names. The power of the swineherd is also suggested and indeed the two prized bulls fought over in the Táin Bó Cuailnge began life as swineherds before undergoing several metamorphoses. There is, then, an abundance of Irish lore surrounding swine, much of which is comparable to the role of pigs in Welsh tradition, including the fact that ‘Shape-shifting often involved pigs, and magico-divine pigs were involved in ritual hunts where the invincibility of the beast was stressed’. Finally, pigs also appear in Irish literature as self-regenerating beasts providing endless food for the feast, the champion’s portion of which was often fought over.

Other examples of medieval literary swine include a vivid boar hunt in Gawain and the Green Knight and it has been noted that the ‘boar remained a powerful figure in medieval imagination, feared and respected. It represented power, invincibility, and fearlessness and appeared in literature marking these qualities’. This can clearly be seen within the Mabinogion, particularly in Culhwch where the dangerous nature of the hunts are stressed. Pigs can also ‘be seen to represent an extraordinarily valuable asset for the Celts of Welsh literature’ with the tales demonstrating not only their importance in medieval Wales but also their deeper significance in the ancient Celtic past. Indeed, the ‘boar is, without doubt, the cult animal par excellence of the Celts’, with evidence of possible boar deities such as Arduinna and Moccus and symbolic appearances on helmet crests, the Gundestrup cauldron, coins, carnyxes and other artwork and iconography including bronze statues. Quite often boars were depicted with exaggerated bristles as a sign of fierceness and it appears they ‘possessed prominent and dual symbolism in the Celtic world. They were adopted as images of war, because of their ferocity and indomitability; and they were symbols of prosperity, because pork was a favourite Celtic food and played an important part in feasting.’

Classical writers such as Strabo commented on the Celts’ love of pork and pig bones occur as grave goods, associated perhaps with the Otherworldly feast. Wild boar was hunted by the early Celts yet was not ‘a major constituent part of the Celtic diet’, suggesting it was more for sporting or ritual purposes, particularly as evidence ‘for domestic pigs is very abundant, but boar bones are rare.’ This archaeological evidence serves to demonstrate the significance of swine to the ancient Celts, clearly still seen in medieval Celtic literature where they often play a central role.

Real and enchanted swine, including metamorphosed humans, play significant roles in the Mabinogion where they can form a bridge between the real and the supernatural. They can be perceived as objects of the hunt; as leaders into adventure for good or ill; as opportunities for characters such as Gwydion and Ysbaddden to forward their own schemes; and as catalysts for character growth and development, including their role in the punishments of Gwydion, Gilfaethwy and the son of Taredd Wledig where they also provide a moralistic element. They are furthermore an integral and dynamic aspect of narrative structure, acting as pivots and plot devices to keep the story engaging and forward-moving. In the case of Pedeir Keinc y Mabinogi they also help bind the tales together, adding to the overall understanding of the reader or listener. Such is the role of swine as they appear in these important medieval narratives, which additionally highlight the deeper significance of pigs, particularly the boar, not only for medieval Welsh society but also for its more ancient Celtic past.

Chapter Three: Magical Birds and Other Enchanted Beasts 

Birds of varied types are a fairly common feature in the Mabinogion tales. They appear both in real form where they act as messengers and hunting aides as well as in their more predominant guise of magical creatures with varied supernatural abilities, whereby they play a variety of helpful roles. Human characters also appear in the form of birds, particularly in the fourth branch and Culhwch ac Olwen, their transformations at times voluntary, at others involuntary and for a number of different reasons. Indeed, such episodes of metamorphosis can be seen as a regular feature of the oldest tales in the collection, not just in bird but also in animal form, although often as a result of punishment for transgression rather than for shamanistic purposes. Such shape-shifted creatures at times play a central role such as in the boar hunts of Culhwch ac Olwen and other enchanted animals also occur, at times luring hunters into otherworldly adventure for good or ill and often unusually coloured and unnaturally swift.

The main occurrences of real birds can be found in the second and fourth branches. During Branwen’s three-year punishment in the second branch she resourcefully trains a starling to assist in alerting her brother to her plight: Branwen reared a starling at the end of her kneading-trough, and taught it to speak, and told the bird what kind of man her brother was. And she brought a letter telling of her punishment and dishonor. The letter was tied to the base of the bird’s wings, and it was sent to Wales.  It proceeded to seek out Bendigeidfran where it ‘alighted on his shoulder, and ruffled its feathers until the letter was discovered and they realized that the bird had been reared among people.’ It is interesting that the starling is taught to speak yet does not do so in the narrative but instead is given a letter to carry, presumably so Bendigeidfran would not doubt the authenticity of the information. Clearly the starling acts as a messenger and the communication it carries leads to a devastating war, hence the bird can be seen to play a pivotal role upon which the narrative turns.

In the fourth branch a bird is instrumental in the naming of one of the central characters. Having refused to name or have contact with her illegitimate son, Aranrhod is tricked into doing so by a disguised Gwydion. In the process ‘a wren lands on the deck of the ship. The boy aims at it and hits it in the leg, between the tendon and the bone’, whereupon the skilled nature of the shot is remarked upon by Aranrhod, ‘it is with a skilful hand that the fair-haired one has hit it’, inadvertently naming her son Lleu Llaw Gyffes, meaning ‘the fair one with the skilful hand’. Thus the wren acts as a catalyst to the naming of the hero whilst illustrating his skilled marksmanship, comparable with Medyr son of Medredydd in Culhwch who can shoot a wren through both legs from a great distance.

Also found in this collection of tales are hunting hawks which feature in the first branch along with hounds and horses in the gift exchanges between Pwyll and Arawn. This is indicative of the desirability of such birds of prey which were ‘very important in medieval Welsh society’ and moreover suggests their role in maintaining good relationships by the exchanging of often valuable gifts, possession of which in turn may signify the wealth, status and generosity of the characters. The desirability of such birds can also be glimpsed in Geraint where a sparrowhawk is the prize of a jousting tournament thereby also signifying prowess, although the hawk itself is forgotten once Geraint has triumphed. Nonetheless the winning of the sparrowhawk not only allows the completion Geraint’s quest to avenge the insult to Gwenhwyfar, but also leads to his marriage to Enid; hence it clearly moves the story along. In Peredur a wild hawk kills a duck resulting in a black raven consuming its red blood in the white snow, the contrasting chthonic colors of which cause Peredur to remember the woman he loves best, comparable to the tale of Deirdre in Irish tradition. Elsewhere in the Mabinogion birds are used to enhance the descriptions of characters - Olwen is compared to hawks, falcons and swans, a squire in Rhonabwy is described as having ‘hawk-like eyes’ and Gwalchmai’s name can be interpreted as the ‘hawk of May’, all in turn further underlining the esteemed qualities of such birds. Indeed, even the peacock-feathered arrows in Owain serve to enhance the image of wealth and status described in the tale.

More commonly found within the Mabinogion, however, are magical birds, perhaps the most memorable of which are the singing birds of Rhiannon. In the second branch they sing to the survivors of the war in Ireland during their seven year feast at Harlech, where as soon as they began to eat and drink, three birds came and began to sing them a song, and all the songs they had heard before were harsh compared to that one. They had to gaze far out over the sea to catch sight of the birds, yet their song was as clear as if the birds were there with them.

Clearly possessing magical powers, these three birds most likely have their origin in the Otherworld, with which ‘Birdsong is often associated’. Indeed, they further confirm the otherworldly status of Rhiannon to whom they are said to belong, help link the narratives of the first three branches and appear to be connected to the distortion of time and distance regularly associated with the Otherworld, also seen in the gait of Rhiannon’s horse. Their melodious song is also preternatural, not just because it can be clearly heard from so far away but also due to its gentle, soothing nature, further explained in Culhwch ac Olwen as having the power to ‘wake the dead and lull the living to sleep’. It seems clear, then, that the main role of these birds is to soothe the survivors after all they have been through, particularly after the loss of both Bendigeidfran and Branwen, whereas in Culhwch they function as one of the difficult tasks which must be undertaken in order for the hero to win the hand of the giant’s daughter. Ysbaddaden requests the birds to entertain him on the wedding night where, should the tasks be completed, he will be slain, suggesting perhaps that the birds are required either to lull his enemies, soothe his passing or even revive him, according to the properties he states they possess. Interestingly, this task is not explicitly achieved in the tale which does nonetheless culminate in the death of the giant; possibly we must simply assume all the tasks are completed, or perhaps the birds are not acquired either due to the difficulty in locating them or because of their potential effect on Ysbaddaden.

Similar birds can also be found in Owain, again to whose song no other can be compared: ‘a flock of birds will alight on the tree, and you have never heard in your own country such singing as theirs’. The difference in country perhaps denotes the Otherworld and indeed they appear as part of a supernatural adventure of which their song evidently signals the next challenge, for just when at its most enjoyable, a fearsome black knight appears and a difficult fight ensues. The description of the singing is repeated four times in the tale, stressing the significance of both the magical flock and their song. Indeed, we additionally hear Cynon’s opinion ‘that never before nor since have I heard singing like that’, that their song was ‘most pleasing’ to Owain and finally that Cai, Arthur and his retinue ‘had never heard a song as delightful as the one the birds sang’. While such birds are clearly akin to those of Rhiannon, the term ‘flock’, of course, suggests more than three birds. In Irish tradition parallel creatures appear as Clídona’s three colourful birds whose song also has the ability to heal and comfort.


A further flock of birds can be discerned in Breuddwyd Rhonabwy in the form of Owain’s ravens. During his game of gwyddbwyll with Arthur he refers to his warriors as his ‘little ravens’ and each move made in the game appears to signal actual combat between their respective retinues, with Owain’s ravens initially suffering badly at the hands of Arthur’s men until given respite where the ravens flew up into the sky angrily, passionately, and ecstatically, to let wind into their wings and to throw off their fatigue. When they regained their strength and power, with anger and joy they swooped down together on the men. Arthur’s troops then suffer in turn, leading to ‘a great commotion in the sky with the fluttering of the jubilant ravens and their croaking’. It is clear from these detailed descriptions that the warriors fighting on Owain’s behalf are actual birds who, despite their initial oppression, turn out to be skilled fighters, achieving significant battle victory for Owain, despite the fact that it is apparently a game. At the end of the second game Owain finally calls off his ravens whereupon Arthur crushes the golden game pieces to dust, so signalling his dispirited defeat. While the triumphant warriors in the central portion of this tale are literally ravens, at the close of Owain his people are referred to as both the ‘Three Hundred Swords’ and ‘the Flight of Ravens’, perhaps indicating that his ravens were usually perceived as men, although the first term could of course refer to his human troops while the latter may signify the actual ravens under his command. Interestingly the ‘association of Owain with ravens seems to have a long history in Welsh tradition’ and is ‘frequently mentioned in Welsh poetry’ in which raven ‘is a common metaphor for warrior’; while in Irish tradition ravens were often associated with war goddesses. Elsewhere in the Mabinogion it can be discerned that Bendigeidfran’s name means blessed crow or raven, perhaps denoting his warrior status.

Other magical birds found in these tales include the ouzel/blackbird, owl and eagle who, along with the stag and salmon, appear as the oldest living animals in Culhwch ac Olwen, all leading unnaturally long lives and therefore possessing knowledge and memory unsurpassed. Each demonstrates its long lifespan and we learn that the eagle has ‘wandered most’ and as a result encountered the oldest creature, the salmon, to whom he leads Arthur’s men. Variant versions of this tale can be found within both Welsh and Irish tradition.  However, it can be clearly seen that all five animals, including the three birds, assist in the task of finding and freeing the lost prisoner, Mabon, so aiding not only Arthur’s men in their quest, but also Culhwch in the winning of Olwen.

Other birds appearing in the Mabinogion are actually metamorphosed humans. In Culhwch Menw and Gwrhyr voluntarily and by their own means shape-shift into unspecified birds in order to get closer to Twrch Trwyth. In the fourth branch an instinctual transformation occurs when Lleu, seriously wounded by a poisoned spear, shape-shifts into an eagle, enabling him to flee and save himself. Indeed, he ‘flew up in the form of an eagle and gave a horrible scream, and he was not seen again’ until a sow leads Gwydion to his location, whereupon Lleu requires his magical assistance in order to transform back into human shape. Gwydion further transmogrifies the unfaithful Blodeuedd into an owl as a means of punishment, declaring that because of the shame you have brought upon Lleu Llaw Gyffes, you will never dare show your face in daylight for fear of all the birds. And all the birds will be hostile towards you. And it shall be in their nature to strike you and molest you wherever they find you. This is a fate worse, in Gwydion’s opinion, than death and implies that owls are persecuted by other birds as a result of Blodeuedd’s treachery. Such bird-forms, then, can be seen to enable reconnaissance, communication, preservation of life and punishment for adultery and conspiracy to murder.

Shape-shifting to bird and other animal forms is a significant and recurring feature of the earliest Mabinogion narratives, particularly in Culhwch ac Olwen where it is so pervasive it implies a probable ‘ancient belief in animal transformations’. This can also be glimpsed in extant Celtic images of human figures depicted with animal characteristics such as the antlered figure on the Gundestrup cauldron, possibly a depiction of Cernunnos, the horned one, although many such images are ambiguous. Joyce Salisbury suggests that medieval interest in such transformations is indicated by the ‘growing popularity of metamorphosis literature’ from the twelfth century onwards, where human to animal transformations reveal the ‘increasing blurring of lines between humans and animals’ and perhaps a belief that boundaries were more fluid. Certainly boundaries between humans and animals are far from rigid in the Mabinogion where such transformations are at times voluntary, the required animal or bird form desired for specific reasons. Involuntary transformations, however, are more common, often occurring as a form of punishment where such transmogrification appears to be a degradation, perhaps ‘making a visible transformation that expressed the state of the human’s animal side’. Nonetheless, as Miranda Green points out, usually ‘only their physical form is altered; they retain the ability to think as humans’ although deprived of their human status. There are few true shape-shifters in the Mabinogion who are able to transform at will, with many of the metamorphoses caused either by a magician or God, the latter ascription possibly occurring as a result of redaction by monastic scribes.

Metamorphosed creatures other than birds in the Mabinogion include the ‘huge army of mice’ who appear in the third branch to devastate Manawydan’s crops, heralded by a loud noise signalling their enchanted nature. We subsequently learn this army is comprised of Llwyd’s retinue, who voluntarily requested transformation by their master to further his scheme of revenge, even joined ultimately by the women of the court and Llwyd’s pregnant wife who is caught by Manawydan. Treating the captured mouse as a human thief, Manawydan proceeds to put her on trial for her crimes which, while seeming bizarre to the modern reader, was in keeping with medieval society where animals were actually prosecuted for committing harm to humans and their property ‘with the same serious concern for legal points as trials of humans’. In this case, however, the mice are transmogrified humans who clearly further the revenge theme and additionally bring the third branch to its conclusion, where the enchantment of Dyfed is lifted and Llwyd restores his wife to human form using his wand.

It is involuntary transformations, however, which form the majority of such metamorphoses within the Mabinogion. We have already seen in the preceding chapter how various characters in Culhwch ac Olwen are transformed into swine for their undisclosed sins, a theme paralleled in Irish tradition. The same narrative also features Nynniaw and Pebiaw who ‘God transformed into oxen for their sins’, as well as the bitch Rhymhi who was in ‘the form of a she-wolf’, although her original shape is unspecified. These creatures all feature as part of the task list Culhwch must complete in order to marry Olwen, thus playing their roles in bringing about the narrative conclusion. The transmogrifications resulting from transgressions within this tale are all caused by God who additionally changes Rhymhi and her two whelps ‘back into their own shape for Arthur’.

In the fourth branch, however, similar transmogrifications are carried out by magicians. As punishment for inciting war in order to commit rape, Gwydion and Gilfaethwy are struck with Math’s magic wand and transformed into successive pairs of animals – a hind and stag, a wild boar and sow and a male and female wolf. This demonstrates Math’s magical ability which appears greater than Gwydion’s and seems focussed on the power of his wand which is repeatedly stressed in the tale. The brothers are forced to live as each pair of animals for a year: ‘Since you are in league with each other, I will make you live together and mate with each other, and take on the nature of the wild animals whose shape you are in; and when they have offspring, so shall you’. Their subsequent offspring are transformed into human shape by Math, again using his wand, and baptised with names denoting their animal origins.

Other scenes linking humans and animals include the badger in the bag episode in the first branch where Gwawl is literally treated as a badger when caught in Rhiannon’s magic bag and beaten by Pwyll’s men. Despite being referred to as a badger during the incident, however, it is nowhere stated that he was actually turned into one; nonetheless, it serves to punish Gwawl for duping Pwyll and allows Pwyll and Rhiannon to finally marry.

A further interesting sequence involving animals occurs in Owain where the gigantic keeper of the forest has the power and authority to summon ‘remarkable’ wild animals ‘as numerous as the stars in the sky’, including ‘serpents and lions and vipers’. This otherworldly figure proceeds to point the respective heroes on their way as their adventures take them further from their familiar world. A disconsolate Owain later wanders in desolate regions ‘until all his clothes disintegrated… and long hair grew all over him; and he would keep company with the wild animals’, comparable to Chrétien de Troyes’ Yvain and the Scottish Lailoken as well as Myrddin and the Irish Suibhne.

Here we have examples of humans becoming animal-like through reactions to personal crises rather than magical transformations, as a form of self-punishment perhaps. Such wild men of the woods were popular figures in medieval art and romances, often serving as a ‘foil for chivalrous, civilized knights’.

Elsewhere in early Welsh literature the tale of Gwion Bach describes a full sequence of animal transformations - following his drink from Cerridwen’s cauldron he instinctively shifts shape into varied animals and birds in order to flee. During their elaborate chase Cerridwen also shifts forms, including into a greyhound and hawk and the episode results in Gwion being reborn as Taliesin. Additionally Gerald of Wales also refers to people changing into animals such as pigs and in Ymddiddan Arthur a’r Eryr, Arthur’s deceased nephew Eliwlad takes the form of an eagle in order to converse with him, although as Anne Ross notes, this appears to be a ‘soul in bird form rather than a clear-cut metamorphosis’. Irish tradition also shows ‘frequent examples of shape shifting’, particularly into swan form, with figures such as the Morrigán, Fintan mac Bóchra and Tuan mac Cairill metamorphosing into many different forms while the Children of Lir and Étain are transmogrified as a result of jealousy.

Other enchanted animals in the Mabinogion include the knowledgeable stag and salmon appearing as part of the aforementioned oldest animals and the varied boars and stags hunted by the protagonists of the tales who are often separated from their companions and led into chthonic adventures as a result, a theme which also occurs in Irish literature, notably in the tales of Fionn. In Geraint his adventures begin during the hunt for the white stag and in Peredur the hero’s dogs kill a stag ‘in a deserted place’ which leads the hero to a dwelling and the next stage of his adventures. Later in this tale a strange stag with supernatural abilities appears who is ‘as swift as the swiftest bird, and there is one horn in his forehead, as long as a spear-shaft, and as sharp as the sharpest thing’. Acting as an oppressor, this stag devastates the forest and its creatures and daily drinks the fishpond dry, resulting in no man entering the forest. Peredur, however, slays the stag who is then described as ‘the most beautiful jewel in my land’ by a female rider who sends Peredur on a further quest. The appearance of stags in the Mabinogion, then, can be seen to herald new adventures and indeed it is a stag hunt which results in Gronw’s pivotal meeting in the fourth branch with Blodeuedd, an enchanted woman conjured from flowers.

Such stags are likely to be of otherworldly origin, indicated by their often white colour as well as the fact that they lead the heroes into new places and adventures. Rhiannon’s white horse may represent the otherworldliness of both horse and rider, as well as the enchanted nature of the white boar which frightens Pryderi’s dogs and lures him to his imprisonment. In the first branch, however, while the hunt results in Pwyll separating from his men, allowing for his solo adventure, it is not the color of the stag that is significant but rather the color of the unknown hounds chasing it. Indeed, he simply ‘looked at the color of the pack, without bothering to look at the stag’, indicating the significance of the hounds who were ‘a gleaming shining white, and their ears were red. And as the whiteness of the dogs shone so did the redness of their ears’. As white animals with red ears are particularly and ‘exclusively associated with the otherworld’ in both Welsh and Irish literature, these dogs are clearly otherworldly and indeed signal the arrival of Arawn, triggering Pwyll’s ensuing adventure which has lasting consequences. Interestingly connections have been made between Arawn’s hounds and those known in Welsh folklore as the Cŵn Annwfn, sometimes cited as being white with red ears.

Other significant, potentially enchanted hounds can be found in Culhwch where Aned and Aethlem are ‘as swift as a gust of wind’ and always triumphant when hunting. The unusually large size of Arthur’s ‘favourite’ hound Cafall is suggested by his name, derived from ‘horse’, and is comparable perhaps to Custennin’s ‘shaggy mastiff… bigger than a nine-year-old stallion’.

Cafall, also features in the earlier Historia Brittonum and as well as figuring in the hunt for Twrch Trwyth, he also plays a significant role in a stag hunt in Geraint where he is faster than the other hounds. In addition to dogs, the magical swiftness of several horses such as those ridden by Rhiannon, Iddog and Mabon and further enchanted horses and greyhounds appear in the fourth branch where they are conjured by Gwydion in order to trick Pryderi into releasing his swine.

Other strange chthonic creatures also figure in Peredur where he vanquishes a fearsome lake monster in addition to the ‘Black Serpent of the Cairn’ who guards a magical stone, both leading to further adventures. He furthermore observes two marvellous flocks of sheep separated by a river, one white and the other black, who change color as they cross over, signalling an otherworldly environment.

A final animal-related incident in the Mabinogion which merits attention is found in Breuddwyd Rhonabwy where a yellow ox-skin with magical properties acts as a catalyst for Rhonabwy’s dream, thus setting up the entire tale which recounts this vision in detail. Apparently ‘good luck would befall’ whoever lay on the skin and doing so endows Rhonabwy with his visionary dream, for ‘as soon as sleep entered his eyes he was granted a vision’. At the close of the tale we learn he had ‘slept for three nights and three days’, reinforcing the magical nature of the animal skin upon which he dreamt. Such a theme is also found in Irish tradition where poets/seers ‘were said to lie on the hides of bulls to acquire hidden knowledge’ often via a prophetic dream, also seen in the ritual of tarbfeis, meaning ‘bull-sleep’, used to determine a king’s successor. In Rhonabwy, however, the skin acts as a device enabling Rhonabwy to gain a vision of the past rather than of the future.

It is clear that magical birds and other enchanted beasts who often ‘possess qualities beyond… natural limits’ are significant features of the Mabinogion, as are human to animal metamorphoses. Birds in particular can be seen as hunting companions, messengers, helpers and as aspects of naming, healing and punishment as well as gifts signifying status and promoting good relationships. Clearly important in ancient Celtic society where iconography and ‘coins frequently depict bird motifs’, their power of flight may have contributed to their more symbolic significance. Other enchanted and metamorphosed animals, most prevalent in the earliest tales in the collection, act as a means of swift transportation, as aspects of revenge and punishment and as leaders into otherworldly adventure via the hunt. It is difficult to imagine the tales without these magical creatures to enhance them.

Susan F. Garlick, Master of Arts in Celtic Studies, University of Wales, Trinity St David, Lampeter,

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