Origin of the fairy trope III. - Ireland and the Tuatha

To be honest, I was intimated by the amount of raw lore surrounding today’s topic, but it’s pretty much unavoidable when speaking about fairies. From Shakespear and Tolkien to Neil Gaiman and Sarah J. Maas, writers love drawing on the mysterious Celts (especially their Irish variant) when portraying fae creatures, because this was basically the culture that made them famous. It’s the first thing people think about hearing the word “fairy”, so let us not tally longer and plunge into this monster of a trope.

In Irish-Celtic mythology, the Tuath Dé, or Tuatha dé Danann (“the tribe of the goddess Danu” or “the tribe of the gods”) are a supernatural race of people, making up most of the region’s pre-christian pantheon, filling every must-have god role  (like we talked about in here). As belief holds, they dwelled in the Otherworld, a plane specifically for supernatural creatures accessible through ancient passage tombs (a type of underground burial mound with a narrow, mostly stone passageway). If that sounds familiar, it’s because you can read something oddly similar in feel in Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring, when the hobbits meet Tom Bombadil.

 

I. Battle of the six armies - An island under constant invasion

The Tuatha’s greatest enemies were the Fomorians; another supernatural race associated with the destructive forces of nature, typically portrayed as monsters and sea raiders. According to the “Lebor Gabála Érenn”, or the Book of Invasions, the two tribes were even at war with each other, peaking at the Battle of Mag Tuired with the Thuata’s victory. This book claims that Ireland was taken six times, although previous nations sometimes survived the coming of the next, leading to stories about mixed heroes descending from two different tribes.

To give some concrete points, and give a glimpse into just how many invasions Ireland suffered, here’s how the Lebor Gabála Érenn tells history: the first nation settling in Ireland was Cessair and his followers, who came before “the flood” (a returning theme in myths from all around the world, although we’re unsure if this detail isn’t just Christian addition). Then came Partholón, whose people died from a plague, followed by the people of Nemed (sharing a similar sad end). They were opressed by the arriving Formorians, followed by the Fir Bolgh (yes, like the Firbolg race from Dungeons and Dragons, who knew?), who were said to be descendants of previous denizens of Ireland going on a really long trip across Europe before returning to their ancestral lands. They were then dethroned by the Tuatha dé Danann and their king Nuada, before the Milesians (basically the current Irish people) arrived and kicked the Thuata’s ass.

Not to wind up in another war, the two ruling nations divided the land between themselves. The Milesians lived above ground, forcing the Tuatha and their descendants, the Aos Sí, to live in the world below (the aforementioned Otherworld). Interestingly, ever nation besides the Thuata and the Fomorians were described as human, which makes the island’s history the first high fantasy novel if you think about it. I mean, the many kingdoms of men trying to carve a habitat for themselves while being harassed by a nation of monsters and ignored by godlike elves? It’s a Battle for Middle-Earth deathmatch!

 

II. There and back again – From kings to gods, then fairies and kings again

But hold on, how could the Milesians, a simple nation of humans defeat the tribe of gods? If you’ve seen Disney’s Maleficent, you already know the answer: iron. Celtic tradition hold that every fairy is susceptible to the touch of iron, sometimes burning them, sometimes stealing or surpressing their supernatural powers, but the message is the same. This little addition, I think, may come from the true turn of events. The Thuata were a bronze-age culture, named after their metal of choice. Bronze is good and all, but compared to iron, it proves lacking. More advanced civilizations with iron weapons and tools triumphed over their bronze-dependent coutnerparts all over the world – so Ireland is just one example of this. Still, it’s an interesting interpretation.

When Christianity arrived, instead of banishing and purging the old “pagan” beliefs, the priests of Ireland merged the old gods into their religion. Actually not just the gods, but they Christianized the whole story in the Lebor Gabála Érenn, claiming that the biblical Noah advised Cessair to seek refuge against the flood in Ireland, and nameing Nemed as a descendant of Noah. In Geoffrey Keating’s History of Ireland written in the 17th century, the Fomorians are said to be a seafaring people descended from Noah's son, Ham. Christianity turned some, like the Aos Sí into lesser fallen angels, while gods like Brigíd were reformed as St. Brigitte of Ireland. Other Tuatha were demoted to simple fairies (although I’m not sure how fairies fit into Christian lore, but at least they aren’t worshipped as gods), while their leaders like Lúgh and Nuada became kings of a bygone age.

From that point, mixing and matching was going rampant. The Aos Sí turned from gods to leprechauns, dullahans, even merrows (all really fascinating creatures on their own, but this post would be way longer if we wandered off into the creepy mire of Irish spirits). People weren’t allowed to worship them, because you only worship gods, but spirits aren’t to be angered either. Leaving a bit of milk by the window, carrying an ounce of iron or steering clear of old mounds can’t hurt, thus the ancient beliefs survived even through the watchful eyes of Christianity.

Irish mythology is an example of how history, ancient wars and plagues can survive even without written mementos. Collective human memories can be preserved through tales, myths and legends, even if the enemy becomes supernatural and the whole story more magical then it really was. Which never hurts, does it?

Cheers,

Lory