A Celtic Miscellany offers a far-reaching assortment of Celtic works spanning the sixth to nineteenth centuries, mostly distributed across the Middle Ages, and covering all of the sub-Roman Celtic lands. Irish and Welsh works make up the majority, but there’s a good amount of Scottish Gaelic, and a small number of Manx, Cornish, and even Breton works. This is probably the most diverse and eclectic of any Celtic compilations I’ve come across.
The pieces here are a mix of short stories, excerpts from longer tales and myths, poems, elegies, ballads, and traditional folk songs. Hero and adventure tales comprise the first sections, mostly as samples from longer works. Some terrific selections are interspersed with some so-so — but still historically and culturally interesting — pieces.
Poetry and epigrams and stories about nature, love, Celtic magic, myth, and religion fill out most of the book. Many of the poems are beautiful in uniquely Celtic ways, whether it is the haunting, descriptive passages about nature or death or longing or otherworldly things, or the humorous and satirical Bardic poetry. Although these works are hundreds of years old, sometimes over a thousand years old, they exhibit familiar psychology and concerns. They are a direct line to lost ages, the voices of mostly anonymous scribes whose peculiarities and charms and age do not mask their similarity to us contemporary folk who think we’ve advanced beyond the ancients.
The epigrams are deceptively simple, often elegant and evocative despite being only a line or two. The majority of poems and stories are attributed to unknown authors, but certain known writers are also represented here, like the 14th century Welsh poet Dafydd ap Gwilym, and the mysterious ninth century Welsh poet Llywarch Hen. Most of the Bardic poetry is credited to the Welsh, Irish, and Scottish-Irish bards who composed and performed these works, predominately dating from the eleventh through fourteenth centuries.
Most of the Irish and Welsh excerpts from myth, like the writings about Cu Chulainn or the samples from the Mabinogion, are by now familiar to me. Their incompleteness here didn’t matter, since I have the complete versions. But the excerpts from less known works I wasn’t familiar with felt too short and incomplete to be satisfying. You can tell there is a lot left out, and this makes me want to seek out the fuller work. The inclusion of these works, although short and leaving out important parts, was still a great choice. Obviously, if every shortened piece was presented at its full length, this book would be thousands of pages.
The elegies are strangely harrowing. I say strangely because they are wonderfully composed, so it is easy to admire the art of the writing and the style, and to appreciate them as fascinating historical and cultural curiosities. But the emotion and intensity of grief on display in a number of these is disarming. One expects an elegy to be sad of course, but when reading an elegy from hundreds of years ago about people you don’t know, you don’t expect to be moved. You certainly don’t expect that to happen more than once or twice. These are about dead lords, dead lovers, dead heroes, dead children, and even the death of freedom and loss of health, mobility, and mind. It’s hard to describe the sensation of reading a bunch of elegies back to back that are simultaneously alluring for their imagery and art, and that can knock the wind out of you for their sheer sadness.
The religious writings have a distinct Celticism to them, with elements of pagan heritage blended with the ideas and beliefs that developed far away from mainland Europe over the Middle Ages. They often write of saints who were, in an older time, pagan deities or heroes.
These poems and parables and tales evoke the esoteric feel of mysticism and a comfort with nature and a fear of Hell. One of the stand out excerpts here comes from a writing called “The Vision of Adhamhnán”. Adhamhán was a “great Sage of the Western world”, we are told. He dies, and his guardian angel gives him a tour of Heaven and Hell, to which we are granted magnificent visual description. One can’t help but be reminded of Dante’s Divine Comedy, although this story predates it by at least two hundred years.
This is a very well done anthology. Its breadth is incredible. It presents a compact but carefully handpicked survey of representative writings from an expansive culture and body of literature. It is hard to do this sort of thing justice in a few hundred pages. What we have here is an example that such an undertaking can be done and is worth doing.