Ceridwen’s role

It’s difficult to untangle the mystery of Ceridwen’s identity and her symbolic role in Welsh legend. The safest path is to examine the early references to her in the Welsh poetry of Cuhelyn and Taliesin, where she is invoked somewhat like an inspiring muse. She can be seen as the bestower, or the very source, of the creativity called Awen.

Although, within the prose story of Taliesin she doesn’t bestow Awen, it was taken from her by Taliesin by accident, and she plays a harshly antagonistic role to Taliesin afterwards. Her antagonistic quality is also displayed in old poetry, “Shall not my chair be defended from the cauldron of Ceridwen?” (Llyfr Taliesin, Song Before the Sons of Llyr)

So could a survey of the historic tradition of Awen help clarify Ceridwen’s symbolic position in Welsh mythos?

Awen as a concept is well represented in historical records. A remarkable tale of a young lad’s acquisition of Awen comes from the collected works of the antiquarian Robert Vaughan from the year 1694. The folktale can be summarized: a young beggar takes up a job herding sheep in an isolated mountain region of the Welsh countryside. One day he falls asleep and dreams of a young man with a crown of foliage upon his his, a bow and quiver over his shoulder and a hawk on his arm. The man lets loose the hawk which straight away flys into the shepherd’s mouth and “inward parts.” The shepherd awakens to find himself inspired with Awen. He leaves his lonely abode and becomes the greatest poet of his day.

This tale is amazing for several reasons, not just for its late survival, but also when compared to another text, in Irish, called “Fingen’s Nightwatch,” (9th or 10th C, Vendryes.) In a manuscript of that text, a tale is related of Fintan, asleep for many centuries in isolation, when a “spirit of prophecy, sent by God,” appears to him. A ray of sunlight pierces his lips (lit. In his mouth a spear of the sun, i n-a béolu di gaí gréine.) the spear pierces to the back of his neck ( co r-raibe tria chlais a dá chúlad.) He has “seven chains” (secht slabraid) on his tongue (for a t[h]engaid iar sin.) Fintan awakens to find himself inspired with poetic (filed) knowledge.

Despite some differences in detail, the two tales are amazingly similar given their separation in age. Another Irish tale, “the Settling of the Manor of Tara,” recounts a man who remembers everything because of a injury to his “back brain.” These stories could relate to a shared Celtic myth regarding a divinely inspired poet. This is all the more interesting because details in “Fingen” also resemble the Roman author Lucian’s account of a Gaulish deity of strength and eloquence named Ogmios.

That said, where does this leave Ceridwen? If she is Bestower of Inspiration, she cannot be the only one. Perhaps a more nuanced, though perhaps heterodox, opinion may be gained examining other Celtic stories similar to the Welsh Taliesin text.

The oldest comparable text that I’m aware of comes from the Senchas Mor, called “Finn and the Man in the Tree,” dated c. 10th or 11th C. (Meyer trans.) In it a hero named Finn slays an invisible attacker at the open entrance to the Sidhe Otherworld. A Sidhe woman appears in the doorway, a dripping vessel in her hand, having just distributed drink within. She shuts up the entrance to the Sidhe hill, but Finn squeezes his thumb inside within a nick of time and afterwards tastes whatever it is on his thumb. He immediately becomes inspired with the gift of poetry and the power of prophecy. The two stories are similar to the extent that Taliesin gains inspiration after tasting the first few drips of magic potion when they land on his thumb, and Finn likewise but with (presumably) the last few drips.

A key takeaway when examining Ceridwen’s Irish analog is that she has been “distributing drink” for the household. The pouring of alcoholic beverages was the sacred duty of upper class women in early Ireland. Examples of this can be found in “Tochmarc Etaine,” where her husband must choose his wife out of her doppelgängers by observing how each distributes drink, while another is “Baile in Scail” where a Sidhe woman referred to as “Sovereignty” pours drink for her mortal guest.

Perhaps this sheds light on Ceridwen’s symbolic relationship to domesticity, ritual kingship, or in sum Social Order. Ceridwen’s motivation is first and foremost a concern for her children, and Taliesin’s accidental theft might be seen as a disruption of the intended social hierarchy.

Admittedly this speculative interpretation of Ceridwen and her symbolic role in the legend of Taliesin is heavily dependent on further interpretations of foreign sources, but that may only be because I know somewhat of Irish texts and little of Welsh. More study of early Welsh society is definitely necessary, and could prove very fruitful.

Source

Taliesin:http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/taliesin.html

Llyfr Taliesin:http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/llyfrtaliesin.html

Awen:https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Awen

Fintan: https://www.academia.edu/5295503/FINTAN_MAC_BÓCHRA_IRISH_SYNTHETIC_HISTORY_REVISITED

Settling of the Manor of Tara:http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/tara.html

Etaine:http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/etain.html

Finn: https://archive.org/details/revueceltique25pari/page/346/mode/2up

Baile in Scaile:http://www.ancienttexts.org/library/celtic/ctexts/phantom.html