The Dagda’s Harp: The cosmology of music in pagan Ireland

Music is deeply connected with sacred spaces throughout the mythologies of the world. An agent of creation, transformation, healing, or destruction, music can shift and release consciousness from the bounds of space and time. Nowhere is this power more strongly demonstrated than in the ancient Irish cycles of mythology. Within the myths, legends, and lore of Ireland, spanning from pre-Christian oral tradition to modern day, music features strongly as a source of connection with the “Otherworld,” or the realm of the gods, the fairies, and the dead. Modern scholarship often calls these forces “supernatural,” but in truth they are natural extensions of consciousness through the inner and outer landscapes. In Irish mythology, the Otherworld is the source of all music, and experiencing music serves a metaphysical link to that world, which always exists at the edge of our consciousness. 

The myth of the Dagda’s harp is a foundational story of the Irish cosmology which demonstrates this relationship. This myth specifically illustrates how music was believed to act as a bridge between the sacred and the mundane, facilitating the integration of the mythology into daily life, and shifting consciousness into states of ecstasy, grief, and sleep. These powers of music ensured connection and right relationship with the natural and spirit worlds.

 

historical background and sources

It is necessary to give some background information regarding the sources of the Irish mythological cycle and to ground the discussion within a survey of other historical information about Ireland during the period of interest (3rd cent. B.C.E. to the early Middle Ages). Much of the Irish mythological cycle derives from a series of manuscripts such as the Leabhar Gabhala (The Book of Invasions); the myth of the Dagda’s harp specifically comes from the text Cath Maige Tuired (The Battle of Maige Tuired). Most of these mythological sagas were written in their current form during 15th and 16th centuries, but were generally transcribed from earlier texts compiled in the 11th and 12th centuries, which in turn drew from a long established oral tradition (Crossley-Holland 379). Scholars surmise that most of the Irish mythological cycle derives from the attempts of Catholic scribes to interpret pagan beliefs and historical events within the context of a Catholic theology; the myths therefore demonstrate a strange blend of cosmologies. However, when examining tales that recount the exploits of pagan deities, it may be assumed that there exists substantial remnants of pre-Christian beliefs (Crossley-Holland 379; “Leabhar Gabhala”).

Themes and motifs from the mythology are reflected in historical accounts of Celtic cultures penned during the Romanization and subsequent Catholicization of Europe. These historical accounts illustrate how the art of music and poetry was highly venerated in ancient Irish culture. The priesthood, or Druids, held high social capital, standing in rank only below the nobility and afforded the privilege of free travel and passage over often contentious tribal boundaries (Kirschstein 26-7). Within the Druid priesthood were included the Bards, for whom skill in music and poetry was not just a trade but a sacred art, leveraging spiritual, social, and political power. Within the mythology, music was described as having magical impacts within the physical world. As Kirschstein describes, “instances of music in Welsh or Irish mythology are almost unfailingly accompanied by a magical event, either foreshadowed or actively caused by the music” (28). In Leabar Gabhala, one hero sings to increase the fish in the sea. In the saga of Cu Chulainn, druids “sang spells over [Cu Chulainn] until his hands and feet were bound” (Kirschstein 28). Within the political landscape, bards and druids were believed to be able to sanctify or ruin rulers with their songs or satires (Kirschstein 29).

 

the Dagda’s harp and transitional states

The deep interrelations between music and the sacred arts are strongly demonstrated in the myth of the Dagda’s harp. The myth recounts how the Dagda, a sun god and father deity of the ancient Irish pantheon, had amongst his many wondrous possessions a magical harp*. The Dagda was a member of the Tuatha de Danann, those deities born from the goddess Danu who represent the main pre-Christian pantheon of Ireland. After the Tuatha proved successful in battle against the Fomorians, a rival race of deities and spirits, the Fomorians stole the harp or ‘crot’ of the Dagda. The Dagda, Lugh, and Ogma chased the Fomorians to their hall, where the Dagda’s word unbound the harp from its captivity. It flew across the room to the Dagda’s hand, and with it he played three strains of music – the Golltraighe, or grief strain, which caused the women in the hall to weep uncontrollably, the Genntraighe, or joyful strain, which caused many among them to be incapacitated with fits of laughter, and the Suantraighe, or the strain of sleep, which caused the men to fall deeply asleep. The Dagda and his kin escaped with the harp and in so doing gave birth to the three strains of music which would be played throughout Ireland as well as to the seasons, which sprung from his songs. (Crossley-Holland 379-80).

This myth acts as a creation story for the lineage of string instruments which includes the harp and the lyre, as well as a creation story for the types of music played by these instruments. Additionally, it is a creation story for the seasonal cycles, with the Dagda’s music playing out three seasons. Although it is not clear in the original story which season correlates with which strain of music, Crossley-Holland theorizes that the strain of joy created summer, the strain of grief created winter, and the strain of sleep created autumn, which was said to be a time of rest after a busy summer of fighting and hunting (387). Whether or not these categorizations are accurate, it remains that the myth codified a clear relationship between music, emotion, and the cycles of the natural world, suggesting that the playing of sacred music may have been an important observance for maintaining and perhaps altering ecological order.

Of course, within pagan and animistic cultures, the natural world is not distinct from the spirit world, and balance must sometimes be attained by crossing the threshold into the spirit realm. There are many examples within the Irish mythology demonstrating the power of music to shift consciousness into a spirit realm; in “The Cattle Raid of Froech,” music results in a deep alteration of time and space: “As they began to eat and drink, three birds came and began singing some songs to them, and all the songs they had ever heard were coarse compared to that one. They were a distant vision seen above the waves, yet they were as clear to them as if there were together with them. And they were at that feast for seven years” (Kirschstein 33). The motif of consciousness shifting music is also seen in the myth of the Dagda’s harp, which illustrates three different trance states attained through music. Within the story, the strains of music act as magical tools to facilitate the escape of the Tuatha de Danann with the magical harp. However, for a student of the bardic arts for whom this story was an integrated learning experience, the strains of music could also be interpreted as models of the consciousness states necessary for communication with the other-than-human.

 

the three strains of music

The strain of joy brings on a state of ecstasy through laughter, altering the breath and facilitating vocal release. This is reminiscent of many other techniques for altering consciousness including chanting, singing, holding of the breath for long periods of time, and controlling the breath in specific ways. This may have facilitated threshold crossing on excursions into the Otherworld, or may have helped maintain balance through community rituals; for instance, gathering in celebration at seasonal transitions or encouraging ecstatic states before entering battle in defense of the community.

The strain of grief is likely related to acts of threshold crossing to communicate with the dead. Crossley-Holland maintains that the strain of grief created the winter season; in the Celtic agricultural culture this would have begun on the night of Samhain, November 1, and commenced a season of mourning (384). It is interesting to note that in the myth, it is the women who are most impacted by the strain of grief. This may be related to the ancient ritual practice of keening, usually practiced by women in the community. These keeners would facilitate community catharsis through the practice of performative weeping (Lysaght 66). It was a ritual act that served to restore emotional balance in the community as well as to ensure proper reception of the deceased in the world of the dead.

The strain of sleep suggests a clear change in the state of consciousness, one which may have held particular meaning for sacred practice in pagan Ireland. Sleeping states are often associated with journeys to the Otherworld in the mythology and in its later derivatives of folk and fairy lore. One who slept in a particular place at an auspicious time was known to return with knowledge or experiences of the fairies; for instance, the famed harper Turlough O’Carolan, living in the 1600s, was said to have learned all of his tunes after falling asleep on a fairy fort (Kirschstein 38). The idea of divine knowledge coming through dreams is echoed in other mythologies; for instance, in the Greek Odyssey, Penelope explains that some dreams, those coming through the gate of polished horn, “accomplish the truth for any mortal who sees them,” suggesting divine origin (Anghelina 65). It makes sense that sleep facilitated by ritualistic music would herald a shift into an Otherworld dream state.

 

music in sacred ecology

The above examples and interpretations explore how music in the myth of the Dagda’s harp may have acted as a model and bridge to the attainment of divine balance. They touch just the tip of the iceberg of the complex meanings of music in ancient Irish cosmology. Nevertheless, this analysis hints at a complex interrelated network of associations between music, seasonal ecology, human consciousness, and experience of the sacred within the ancient Irish cosmology. It would appear that music was both a means of maintaining balance with natural powers and also of restoring that balance if it had been disrupted, by means of musically facilitated Otherworld journeys. This is demonstrated in the myth of the Dagda’s harp in a similar format to many trickster and creation stories throughout world mythologies: a sacred item is stolen or desecrated, representing a schism with the divine; balance is restored by means of a heroic adventure; in the process, something new is created which acts as a lesson for reintegration with divine balance.

The fact that music was often seen as a gift, endowed by the spirits and sometimes revoked if it was not respected, also demonstrates this multifaceted relationship. This idea is reminiscent of a similar motif in the stories of land-based cultures that viewed the successful hunt as a gift from the spirit realm and a confirmation of balanced relationship within the community. It begs the question of whether ancient Irish music functioned merely as a bridge to the sacred landscape, or rather if it was viewed as an autonomous entity within the sacred ecology, imbued with its own power and agency independent of humans, as authoritative in the maintenance of right relationship as the master animals of the Arctic and sub-Arctic hunting cultures.  Perhaps just as they do, the music of Ireland springs up from the earth, as wild as the weeds, as unpredictable as the fairies, as ineffable as the gods themselves.

I hope you enjoyed this analysis of the myth of the Dagda’s harp and look forward to hearing your feedback. Are you familiar with this myth? What stands out about it to you? Have you heard other myths and stories from different cultures that give an origin story to music in that culture? What are your personal experiences of the connection between music and the sacred landscape? There is so much to explore here – I’m excited to dive in deeper!

 

notes

*Some sources say that the harp itself was called Uaitne – others say that the Dagda’s harper was named Uaitne, but the harp itself is referred to as Durdabla or Coircetharchuir (Crossley Holland 379). Crossley-Holland points out that the original word for the instrument is ‘crot’ which, when translated, suggests that it was actually a lyre rather than a harp (379). However, subsequent translations have morphed it into a harp, and the instruments are similar enough to have analogous symbolism.

 

bibliography

Anghelina, Catalin. “The Homeric Gates of Horn and Ivory.” Museum Helveticum, vol. 67, no. 2, 2010, pp. 65-72.

Crossley-Holland, Peter. “The Dagda’s Magical Crot: Myth and Music in Ancient Ireland.” Mankind Quarterly, vol. 21, no. 4, 1981, pp. 377-391.

Evans Wentz, W. Y. The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. Project Gutenburg, 2011.

Hillers, Barbara. “Music from the Otherworld: Modern Gaelic Legends about Fairy Music.” Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, vol. 14, 1994, pp. 58-75.

Kirschstein, Natalie. “Two Magical Arts: Music and Poetry in Irish and Welsh Mythology, and their 21st-Century Reinterpretation.” Ars Lyrica Celtica, vol. 17, 2008, pp. 25-43.

“Leabhar Gabhala.” Royal Irish Academy, https://www.ria.ie/leabhar-gabhala-book-invasions. 

Lysaght, Patricia. “‘Caoineadh os Cionn Coirp’: The Lament for the Dead in Ireland.” Folklore, vol. 108, 1997, pp. 65-82.