The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) (3 page)

This clear view of their own past is attested in sources such as
Trioedd Ynys Prydain
(The Triads of the Island of Britain), a catalogue of stories and characters listed in groups of three similar episodes or themes which would have facilitated the recall of the material for storytellers and poets. Some of the references are corroborated by surviving narratives. According to the triads, one of the ‘Three Fortunate Concealments of the Island of Britain’ is the head of Bendigeidfran, concealed in the White Hill in London with its face towards France to ward off Saxon oppression; indeed, the account in full is given in the third part of the Second Branch of the
Mabinogi
. As for other references, however, they will forever remain cryptic. Some of the triads deal with mythological themes and figures from the Welsh heroic age, but many, including the reference to Bendigeidfran, are concerned with the traditional history of Britain, focused on the notion of Britain as a single entity. The basic concept of medieval Welsh historiography was that the Welsh, descendants of the Britons, were the rightful heirs to the sovereignty of Britain, symbolized by the crown of London; despite invasions by the Romans and the Picts, and despite losing the crown to the Saxons, the Welsh would eventually overcome and a golden age of British rule would be restored. The theme of the loss of Britain can be traced back to the
sixth century, to the work of the British monk Gildas; it is seen again some 300 years later in the anonymous
History of the Britons
(often ascribed to Nennius), and reaches its zenith in the twelfth century, in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s highly influential, and largely fictional,
History of the Kings of Britain
—all these were works that helped forge the
Mabinogion
.

The tale of ‘Lludd and Llefelys’ and ‘The Dream of the Emperor Maxen’ closely mirror these themes. Indeed, the former is unique among the tales of the
Mabinogion
in that it first appears as an addition incorporated into a mid-thirteenth-century Welsh translation of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s work. There is no doubt that it was taken originally from the oral storytelling tradition, as testified by the translator himself. However, even in its slightly embellished form in the White and the Red Books, the tale owes more to a translation style than to the oral storytelling style of the other tales: there is almost no dialogue, the treatment of the tripartite repetition is unimaginative, while there is overall very little attention to detail and no desire to dwell on the magical qualities of the three plagues that threaten the Island of Britain. In the tale, after all, these are not represented as historical invaders; rather, they have been transformed into the realm of folk-tale and presented as supernatural oppressors: the Coraniaid, a race of people who are able to hear every word that is spoken; fighting dragons whose screams every May eve cause women to become barren and men to lose their senses; and a powerful magician who can lull the court to sleep. The tale can be read as an alternative rendering of a triad, in which the invaders are the Romans, the Picts, and the Saxons. Indeed, the episode of the dragons, who are eventually captured and laid to sleep at Dinas Emrys in Snowdonia, is related to the ninth-century
History of the Britons
, and linked with the development of the red dragon as a symbol of Welsh identity.

It may be no coincidence that ‘The Dream of the Emperor Maxen’ precedes ‘Lludd and Llefelys’ in both the White and the Red Books: the island is left at the mercy of foreign invaders as a result of Maxen’s action for it was he who deprived Britain of her military resources when he led them away to fight on the Continent. Unlike the Latin chroniclers, however, the native Welsh tradition shows Maxen in a favourable light, a symbol of the relationship between Rome and Wales, and someone from whom medieval Welsh dynasties
claim to derive their descent. As with ‘Lludd and Llefelys’, the author again combines historical facts with folk-tale motifs, the hero’s quest for his true love, together with love-sickness, being common themes in Indo-European literature. This author, however, is much more skilful in his handling of the narrative, and especially in his imaginative treatment of the triple journey. When Maxen travels in his dream, the description of the journey itself is realistic, but actual geographical locations are imprecise. When his messengers go in search of the maiden, however, place-names are introduced and the journey is localized, although the maiden’s name is not revealed. The third journey is over in a few lines, as Maxen himself travels to the Island of Britain, invades and defeats the inhabitants, and makes for the castle at Caernarfon in Gwynedd. It is only then that we learn the identity of the maiden and her family: she is Elen of the Hosts, daughter of Eudaf and sister of Cynan. The remainder of the tale is far less integrated, consisting of a collection of onomastic tales and an account of the founding of Brittany— Maxen travels to the Continent to defend his throne, and grants land in Brittany to Elen’s brother, Cynan, in return for military support. The identity of the author is unknown, although interest in Caernarfon, together with dialect features, suggest that he might have come from North Wales. Indeed, the author may have been motivated by the historical circumstances of the reign of Llywelyn ap Iorwerth at the beginning of the thirteenth century, and the legend used ‘as a contemporary declaration of the long-standing Gwynedd policy of Welsh hegemony’, such a political motivation being in line with other attempts to fabricate or manipulate the past to justify the claims of Gwynedd.
⁶
Indeed, it may be significant that ‘The Dream of the Emperor Maxen’ is preceded by ‘Peredur’ in both the White and the Red Books—they could both be vestiges of the powerful court of Gwynedd.

Although very different in their approach, both ‘How Culhwch Won Olwen’ and ‘Rhonabwy’s Dream’ look back to a time when Britain was under the rule of one leader—Arthur. In the former he is described as ‘chief of the kings of this island’; in the latter, he is ‘emperor’. ‘Rhonabwy’s Dream’ is unique in that it survives only in the Red Book of Hergest. Moreover, in that manuscript some fifty-six
columns separate it from the nearest
Mabinogion
tale—it is grouped with a prophetic text and a version of the tale of the Seven Sages. The opening suggests a pseudo-historical tale, where Madog ap Maredudd, ruler of Powys, sends men to seek out his troublesome brother Iorwerth; however, one of the envoys, Rhonabwy, falls asleep on a yellow ox-skin and is granted a vision, reflecting the ritual of the Irish poet-seers who were said to lie on the hides of bulls to acquire hidden knowledge. But any comparison ends there, for Rhonabwy’s action occurs completely by chance—it is not premeditated—and he is granted a vision of the distant Arthurian past rather than of future events. Perhaps the most remarkable feature of this tale is that nothing really happens—there are digressions and detailed descriptions, where the author combines every known formula possible, but very few actions that lead to any clear outcomes. In fact, time runs backwards: Rhonabwy is guided through his dream by Iddog, who has just completed seven years penance for causing the battle of Camlan, Arthur’s final battle; yet Arthur himself is then introduced, and we are informed that the battle of Badon has not yet taken place! Indeed, the account of that battle is replaced by a long and perfectly balanced set-piece where Arthur plays
gwyddbwyll
, not against his enemy, which may well have been an acceptable motif, but against one of his own men, Owain son of Urien. As the board-game progresses Arthur and Owain’s men attack and kill each other offstage, and it is only when Arthur crushes all the pieces on the playing board that a truce is finally called. When Rhonabwy wakes up to discover that he has slept for three days and three nights, the tale comes to an abrupt end—no commentary whatsoever is offered, and nothing more is said of Rhonabwy, Madog, or Iorwerth.

The meaning of the dream and its purpose have been interpreted in a variety of ways, much depending on views regarding the date of the tale and the nature of the satire contained within it. The framework is set in Powys during the reign of the historical Madog ap Maredudd. The comparative stability of his reign (1130–60) was followed by a period of unrest as Powys was divided between Madog’s sons, brother, and nephew. The tale may well have been composed in the thirteenth century, when the author, surely someone from Powys, was looking back to a golden age under Madog’s rule; or it may be a product of Madog’s lifetime (he died in 1160), and the satire aimed at contemporaries, even perhaps at Llywelyn ap Iorwerth of
Gwynedd, whose political ambition was to become, like Arthur, a national leader. On the other hand, Arthur himself and all his trappings seem to be mocked, so that the satire may be directed not so much at the past as at stories about the past, and against those who take the Arthurian myth and its values seriously.
⁷

Whereas the author of ‘Rhonabwy’s Dream’ may well have a cynical view of national leaders, the author of ‘How Culhwch Won Olwen’ sees Arthur as the model of an over-king, physically strong, decisive, focused, and leader of a band of ferocious warriors. The tale was probably first written down in south-east Wales, perhaps at Carmarthen, in the first half of the twelfth century; whatever its date, it certainly bears no resemblance to the Arthurian history of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Rather, the atmosphere is akin to that seen in early Welsh poems such as ‘What Man is the Gatekeeper?’, where Arthur and his band of warriors roam the country fighting witches, chasing monsters, and overpowering supernatural opponents. The action in the tale is centred on two classical international themes: the Jealous Stepmother and the Giant’s Daughter. When the young Culhwch refuses to marry his stepmother’s daughter, she puts a curse on him that he will marry no one save Olwen, the daughter of Ysbaddaden Chief Giant. At the mere mention of Olwen’s name Culhwch falls in love with her, and sets off for Arthur’s court to seek help. There he comes face to face with a host of men and women whose names are presented in a florid list—some 260 names in all— drawn from a variety of sources, reflecting both historical and legendary characters. Six warriors are enlisted as Culhwch’s helpers, and they accompany him to Ysbaddaden’s court, where we are presented with a list of forty tasks or marvels which Culhwch must achieve before he can win Olwen’s hand. Some of these involve the provision of food, drink, and entertainment for the wedding feast, while many focus on the hunting of Twrch Trwyth, a magical boar (
twrch
) who has between his ears a comb and scissors required by Ysbaddaden to trim his hair for the special occasion. The account of how the tasks are accomplished forms a series of independent episodes in which Arthur, together with warriors such as Cai and Bedwyr, help Culhwch win his bride.

The underlying structure of the tale is, therefore, quite simple, and is a focus for a myriad of international motifs—grateful animals, magical helpers, horns and hampers of plenty. However, we are presented with an inconsistent, undisciplined, and lengthy composition. The main flaw in the structure is that the listing of the tasks and their ultimate completion do not form a balanced unity—of the forty tasks that are set by the giant Ysbaddaden, only twenty-one are accomplished. But was there ever a version of the tale in which all forty tasks were successfully executed? As was suggested earlier, the long prose form may never have existed at all in the oral medium, and may have only come into being with the development of literary writing. Indeed, perhaps the male and female protagonists—the stereotyped Culhwch and Olwen—were a deliberate creation on the part of the author as a vehicle to bring together numerous episodes that were already in circulation concerning Arthur and the Arthurian world. The hunting of Twrch Trwyth certainly has a long history—a reference is made to Arthur’s hunting of the supernatural creature in the ninth-century
History of the Britons
, while allusions in medieval poetry show that traditions concerning the animal were well known all over Wales. Indeed, it might be no coincidence that Culhwch himself takes his name from the pig-run in which he was born. Or was this onomastic merely another creation on the part of an author who delighted so much in words and word-play? For, more than anything else, this is what makes the tale unique, together with its unbounding energy, its humour, and sheer panache.

The Arthurian world presented in ‘How Culhwch Won Olwen’ is very different to that found in ‘Peredur son of Efrog’, ‘Geraint son of Erbin’, and ‘The Lady of the Well’.
⁸
In the former Culhwch and Arthur’s men encounter giants, witches, and magical creatures; Arthur is a proactive figure, leading by example; his court, home to archaic social and legal customs, is at Celli Wig in Cornwall; the atmosphere is one of aggression and heroic machismo. In the later tales, however, his court is relocated at Caerllion on Usk, under the influence of Geoffrey of Monmouth, and Arthur’s role is similar to that found in the Continental romances—as a shadowy, fairly passive figure, who leaves adventure and danger to his knights. There are no clear geographical or political boundaries to his kingdom, and the action takes place in a somewhat unreal, daydream-like world. On the surface the three tales convey a common theme, in that the young hero embarks on a journey and goes in search of adventure; a string of events follow, usually in no particular order—their
raison d’être
is to put the hero to the test. Owain wins his bride, but he neglects her, preferring to remain at Arthur’s court with his companions; however, he is reminded of the error of his ways and the couple are eventually reunited. Geraint wins his bride, but becomes preoccupied with her and deserts his knightly responsibilities; he misinterprets her anxiety as love for another man, and takes her on a gruelling journey, but eventually, after a series of trials, they are reconciled. In
Peredur
, on the other hand, the hero’s initial journey transforms him from a country bumpkin into a skilful knight; he then wins a reluctant love, Angharad, before gaining the admiration of the empress of Constantinople, with whom he stays for fourteen years; finally he embarks on a perilous journey that takes him to the Castle of Wonders, where the witches of Caerloyw (Gloucester) are slain and vengeance is his. The treatment tends to be uncourtly, with no interest in the characters’ feelings or motives, no authorial asides or comments; rather, the emphasis throughout is on the action, with no attempt whatsoever at psychological digressions. What seems to have occurred, therefore, is that Wales accepted certain themes prevalent in the romance tradition, such as the education of the knight, and moderation between love and military prowess; however, other features were rejected as being too foreign, culminating in three hybrid texts, typical of a post-colonial world.