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Transl. Thomas KinsellaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The symbolism of the bulls is multifold. The two bulls, Finnbennach the White-Horned and Donn Cuailnge the Brown, are primarily symbols of virility and masculinity in The Táin. The Brown Bull is often described as being accompanied by his 50 heifers, indicative of his fertility and virility, and the White Bull, “refusing to be led by a woman, had gone over to the king’s herd” (55) as a demonstration of his masculinity. They are both larger than life and come from mystical origin. Having once been two shapeshifting pig-keepers whose friendship devolved into a drawn-out dispute, they eventually settled in the form of bulls on opposite sides of Ireland.
As such, each bull also represents the two regions of Ireland at war in the epic, Finnbennach being from Ai Plain in Connacht, and the Brown Bull being from Cuailnge (modern-day Cooley). They are essentially proxying for the two armies, and each is a powerful beast that is equally matched in strength and virility, but the bull (and armies) from Ulster eventually gets the upper hand. The bulls are also a basic symbol of wealth and strength, as the epic at the heart of the Ulster cycle is fought over a cattle raid to recover an ancient community’s livestock.
The Táin is deeply rooted in an oral tradition and reflects many of the conventions of performed narrative, whether simply recited for an audience or part of a more elaborate performance. Common elements of orality persist, such as the listing of clans and families, which commemorates and honors them while recording and transmitting the past to future generations. Shifting between narrative style, verse, and prose also reflects the multifaceted performative aspects of The Táin and the many voices that would have shared the epic through the centuries.
Reflecting the prevalence of this performance in premodern Ireland, the “Exile of the Sons of Uisliu” is particularly marked by this role of song and verse. Noisiu and his brothers are described as warriors, but the narrative marks them as beautiful singers, saying, “Every cow or beast that heard [their song] gave two thirds more milk. Any person hearing it was filled with peace and music” (12). The brothers are tragic heroes, caught in an ill-fated love story that is foreshadowed by Cathbad’s prophetic chant and closed with Derdriu’s final poetic chants before her suicide.
The shift to verse is a motif that is often tinged with the abstract and the magical, bearing prophecies in “the light of foresight” that are given at moments of narrative transition throughout The Táin. These prophecies solidify identity, speak to destiny, and impart a sense of predetermination in important lives. Conversely, verse is also deployed in moments of extrapolation and reasoned rhetoric, as characters explore a situation together. As such, verse is versatile, serving the practical purpose of breaking up the narrative to keep the listener engaged and attentive at critical moments.
The supernatural and the mystical is a constant motif in the narration. The occasional appearance of these elements are primarily a contribution from Celtic folklore and mythology that continued to exist in pre-Christian medieval texts. The two worlds of the real and the mystical intersect on occasion, creating an air of fantasy as the gods and goddesses of The Táin intervene in the lives of humans, much like the gods of ancient Greece.
Sometimes these folkloric elements intervene to support and validate Cúchulainn as he proves himself worthy. For example, the síde appear to help Cúchulainn in moments of fatigue or desperation. They are an ancient, divine race from whom Cúchulainn partially descends, as Lug mac Ethnenn appears to his mother in a dream claiming her unborn child as his own, then later visits and cares for Cúchulainn on the battlefield. This man’s healing powers have such a powerful effect that Cúchulainn is overcome with a superhuman warp-spasm and avenges the death of the boy troop.
The power of these otherworldly people is a constant threat, however, as detailed in the early chronicles of Cúchulainn’s life, when the people of Ulster struggled to keep his energy contained. Likewise, Medb wisely identifies the threat posed by the Galeóin, an ancient race of exceptional warriors that has joined her army, and she eventually decides to separate them to diffuse and control their power. Indeed, not all supernatural visitors are benevolent. The Morrígan, goddess of war, often interferes and agitates conflict when there is none, and the two shapeshifters who started out as pig-keepers begin an argument that affects the land and people across Ireland. Thus, the motif of the supernatural serves a diversity of purposes in the text, from adding conflict to resolving it and strengthening the hero in his time of need.
Cúchulainn must fight the Irish armies alone because the men of Ulster are in their pangs. The pangs are a curse from Macha (a goddess) on the men of Ulster who refused to help her when she was forced to ride a chariot race during childbirth. As a result, the men of Ulster must also suffer these labor pangs for four to five nights, as will anyone who attacks them during their pangs. Cúchulainn and his father are spared, as they are not from Ulster.
These pangs have a supernatural origin and are a recurring motif throughout the text, giving Cúchulainn the motivation and opportunity to fight the Irish forces alone. The pangs are symbolic of the nature of suffering and succor—ignoring the suffering of another will bring that same pain down onto you. This is the cultural heritage of the Ulstermen, who spurned an exceptional woman, a goddess in disguise, in her time of need.
Cúchulainn often fights challengers in a ford, which are plentiful in Ireland. A ford would have typically been a strategic military point, so it is not unusual for battles to take place at a ford. In The Táin these battles symbolize a crossroads and a meeting place, but they are also identified as important landmarks along the path. Cúchulainn is at his personal best in the ford—Ferdia knows he is headed for trouble when Cúchulainn chooses to fight in the ford, as “Cúchulainn destroyed every hero and high warrior that ever fought him in ford water” (194). This detail emphasizes his talent for combat, for fighting in a ford would have been more difficult than fighting on dry land. In fact, while the Morrígan also chooses her opportunity to attack Cúchulainn as he fights in the ford, he is nonetheless able to fight off both his attacker and the Morrígan, despite the added difficulty of the
The Táin is in many ways preoccupied with space and place more than the action of battle itself. Encounters throughout the epic function to explain the names of landmarks across the Irish landscape, with some mentioned for the sole purpose of explaining a landmark’s naming. Making frequent references to landscape is a means of remembering and mapping the landscape at a time before the invention and common use of maps.
Perhaps more than anything else in the text, the sense of place is realistic (in contrast with Cúchulainn’s supernatural abilities, for example), and it is possible to map out and follow the armies with so many details provided. These details, which might seem unimportant to a modern reader, are remarkable for an early medieval text, given the novelty and rarity of maps at the time. For example, a long list of spaces the characters will cross is presented at the beginning of The Táin (see Part 2). While this list might seem tedious to the modern reader, it reflects an oral “remembering” of the natural landscape of Ireland through Cúchulainn’s feats, and through shared suffering and victory. It allows the listener to understand the scale of the epic as the army travels across the land, and it roots the tale in the real, known world of premodern Ireland, bringing the listener closer to these mythical figures through identifiable spaces. The shared mythology (here expressed through familiar spaces) gives a sense of shared cultural identity and belonging.