An Irish precursor of Dante

by Charles Stuart Boswell

The story of Brendan, it will be seen, though somewhat later than the Fis Adamnáin, is but an Imram of the ordinary type, though containing several original features, and richer in incident than most of its predecessors. However, its chief claim to consideration rests upon the work which it effected in securing for Irish legend a permanent place in European literature.

With the Voyage of Brendan the Imram type of romance culminates, and ceases to occupy its former important place in Irish literature.[196] Henceforth, the Otherworld tradition, whether in Irish or foreign hands, is continued by means of the Fis, the form properly its own, from the time of Plato downwards.

In this form it inspired a work which almost rivalled the Voyage of Brendan in the popularity it achieved, and the influence it exercised upon later writers. This was the Vision of Tundale, written at Ratisbon by an Irish monk, a Munster man, named Marcus, apparently about the year 1149, in which the vision is dated. It was written in Latin, and immediately became widely popular, being translated in the course of its own century, and several centuries following, into the languages of most European countries, from Sweden to Spain and Italy.[197]

This Tundale, so-called—whose proper name Professor Kuno Meyer conjectures to be Tnúthgal or Tnúdgal (op. cit., p. 91)—was a knight of Cashel, said by the author to have been ‘noble of blood, but bloody of deeds; fair as to body, but careless about his soul. Fierce and terrible towards the Church, for he would endure none of the poor folk of the Lord in his sight.’ Once, when on a visit to a friend in Cork, he fell into a fit while sitting at table; he was taken up for dead, but was not buried, as a slight warmth was perceptible in his left side. He remained in a trance from the fourth hour on Wednesday until the same time on Saturday, when he recovered slowly, partook of the Sacrament, and gave thanks to God, after which he gave all his goods to the poor, assumed the cross, and ‘turned his back on his former life.’ It was during this trance that he beheld the vision which he related to Marcus.

Immediately after the departure of Tundale’s soul from his body, his conscience expressed great dread by reason of the magnitude of his sins. Fain to re-enter his body, he could not, but flitted unsteadily, swiftly, to and fro, weeping and weary, in fear and lamentation. Great hordes of demons surrounded him, who welcomed him, terming his soul ‘daughter of death and enemy of God, spouse of darkness and foe of light,’ etc. They tore his face with their talons, and taunted him with his sins. At length he saw a light, like a star, approaching; this was his guardian angel who bade him ‘welcome from God.’

Tundale, between fear and joy, replied, ‘A sorry case, my lord; the pains of Hell have surrounded me, and I am in the snare of death.’

The angel answered, ‘I have ever been with thee, yet never until now hast thou called upon me thus.’ Then, pointing to the ugliest of the demons, he added, ‘That is the deed and the counsel [devised] independently of me.’ However, he promised that Tundale should receive mercy, though he must suffer somewhat first. He then bade him follow, and retain firmly in his memory whatever he should see.

Upon seeing Tundale escape them, the demons began to blaspheme God, and to smite one another, and finally departed, leaving a foul smell behind.

For long Tundale journeyed on in darkness, lighted only by the radiant garments of his guide. At length they came to a glen ‘darkened with the mist of death,’ and filled with sparks of fire. An iron covering, six cubits thick, was on it, hotter than the sparks themselves, and a stench issued forth that was a more grievous torment than Tundale had ever known. A huge multitude of wretched souls were sitting on that lid, burning, ‘till they were melted, like garlic in a pan, with the glow thereof.’ Others were strained through the lid, like wax through a linen cloth, and then tempered in the sparks below for a repetition of the infliction. These were parricides and slayers of their kin.