An Irish precursor of Dante

by Charles Stuart Boswell

In our author’s representation of the Court of Heaven we already find, completely developed, that idea of the subject which was perpetuated long afterwards by the masters of Italian art. His picture of the enthroned Deity, with the Virgin beside Him, the Saints standing round about Him, and the celestial choirs surrounding the whole, might well be taken for the description of some painting by Fra Angelico; nor are the gem-like radiancy of the angelical painter’s works, nor the august blitheness which pervades them, entirely absent. Indeed, writings of this class are not without value as a preface to the history of sacred art, as indicating the origin of the stereotyped fashion in which the masters treated certain religious subjects—which fashion was not created by the arbitrary choice of the primitives, and perpetuated through any want of inventive power on the part of their followers, but represented their attempt to portray these subjects in accordance with the traditional form with which legend had already invested them.

One very striking image, and, so far as I know, the offspring of our author’s imagination, is the symbol whereby he has endeavoured to represent the Divine Omnipresence—‘a majestic countenance, seven times as radiant as the sun,’ gazing from out a fiery mass, and facing the spectator, from whatever side he might regard Him. The naïveté of this attempt to represent the Inconceivable reminds us of the triple orbs of iridescent fire in canto 33 of the Paradiso, whereby Dante symbolised the Trinity. For pictorial effect, however, the preference must, I think, be awarded to the Irish writer, whose image, at once quaint and grandiose, might be the subject of some design by Blake.

At the same time, the author does not neglect the stores of imagery contained in the national traditions, though he does not conform blindly to his precedents; for he differs from the great majority of his predecessors and successors alike in selecting his materials from whatever source appears preferable to him, instead of heaping together a greater or less quantity of matter taken at haphazard from the common stock. The circle of fire which surrounds the midmost Heaven is a familiar object in both the celestial and the infernal regions, and is largely represented in Irish legends dealing with the Otherworld, or with occurrences of a supernatural order. Besides the striking instance in the Voyage of Maelduin, and other cases to which reference has already been made, legends of the Finn cycle mention wizard warriors who surrounded their camp every night with a rampart of fire.[163]

The crystal veil which partly hides the Throne in chapter 5 may be a modification of the veil which often enshrouds a mystical island in the Imrama; or, again, it may have been suggested by the veil hanging before a shrine in a Christian church, or by the veil of the Temple, which curtained off the Holy of Holies.

The Throne is supported by four pedestals, as was the island Paradise of Manannán Mac Lír in the Imram Braín, in imitation of which an island supported upon a pedestal, or pedestals, is introduced into most of the Christian Imrama. The pedestals beneath the throne are of precious stone, and from them sweet music proceeds, as from the precious stones which separate the several companies of the celestial choir in chapter 13. Vocal or musical stones are common in Irish legend; instances occur in the description of Magh Mell, just quoted, and elsewhere in similar circumstances, and we may compare the Lia Fáil, which would shriek when pressed by the foot of a lawful king. Parallels occur in the legends of other Celtic nations: e.g. in the Breton story of the Groach (Irish Gruagach), it is said that every step leading to the palace of that fairy lady sang like a bird when trodden on.

The very words in which the Fis attempts to express the beauty of the celestial music are those of the old romances: ‘Though one should hear no other minstrelsy besides, yet should he have his fill of melody and delight.’

The fiery arch above the Throne reminds us somewhat of the watery arch over the enchanted islands of the Imrama, in spite of all differences. Probably both were suggested by the rainbow, but it may be that the author of the present passage had in his mind the description in Rev. x. 1 of the ‘mighty angel … and a rainbow upon his head.’ In a note to the translation of this passage, we suggested that the comparison of the arch to ‘a wrought helm, or royal diadem,’ may contain a reference to the picturesque and chivalrous custom of the Irish Árdrí to wear his helmet on state occasions, reserving his crown for the day of battle.

The triple circle surrounding the Throne may be intended to symbolise the Trinity.[164] It is noteworthy that while the generality of mediæval legends describing the Otherworld give little prominence to the Triune nature of the Deity, the present Vision contains several references to the Trinity, as do the Vision of Fursa, and several of the later Visions composed by Irish writers or under Irish influences.

Our author does not fail to include among the delights of Heaven that bird-music which is so dear to Irish writers of all ages. The birds of Heaven are here presented in a twofold manner. In the first place, the ‘bird-choirs of the heavenly folk,’ who mingle with the multitudes who surround the chosen band standing about the Throne, correspond to the bird-souls whom the legends commonly place upon the Tree of Life, in attendance on Enoch and Elijah. There are also the three birds perched upon the Throne, where they sing the hours, after the usual fashion of their congeners, beginning with the birds of Magh Mell, in the Voyage of Bran, who, by the way, can only be made to discharge their pious function at the cost of an anachronism. The birds now in question would seem to occupy a middle place between the bird-choirs, of which we have just been speaking, and the great sacred bird which appears in the mythology of every race of mankind.[165] Similar birds are present in the earliest and latest stages of Irish myth, from the Dagda’s palace in the Brug na Boinne to the adaptation of the Phœnix legend which figures in the Voyage of Maelduin. Probably our author’s choice of the number three conveys another reference to the Trinity; nevertheless, three was the number alike of the birds of Oengus in the Brug na Boinne, and of the eagles seen by Maelduin.