"rose" is out and "air" is in, a mythological angle is discussed

After much internal debate it has been decided that the poem The Rose of the World simply does not fit with the other pieces I have chosen. It's replacement (looks like I'll be transcribing again over the Christmas weekend) is a piece of greater length called The Host of the Air. there are three things your should know about this piece 1) It is beautiful and 2) It has no ties to alchemical imagery that I can find 3) It has possible ties to Irish/Celtic mythology that I plan on exploiting for all they are worth.

1) He heard while he sang and dreamed/ the piper piping away,/and never was piping so sad,/ and never was piping so gay.
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The bread and the wine had a doom,/ for these were the host of the air;/ He sat and played in a dream/ Of her long Dim hair.
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O'Driscoll scattered the cards/ and out of his dream awoke:/ Old men and young men and young girls/ Were gone like the drifting smoke.

The imagery this poem evokes, took my breath away the first time I read it. It is quite possible that this has become my second favorite Yeats poem ever - nothing can usurp The Stolen Child.

2) Pretty self explanatory. There is apparently no alchemical symbolism in this poem. there is, of course, the possibility that a mere novice such as myself is simply not knowledgeable enough to decipher any that is buried in the text. However, for the sake of simplicity, this artist will operate on the assumption that none exits in the text until proven otherwise.

3) Here is where Host of the Air gets fascinating. Once breath was regained after the first read, the first thing that stuck out was that the main character (O'Driscoll) constantly refers to Bridget or Bridget his bride. While this could simply be a name, it bears noting that not only is Bridget (Brighid, Bridgit/etc) the Irish mythological equivalent of Minerva or Athena; but it is also the name of a much revered saint (Brigid of Kilgare) who is considered the second patron saint of Ireland. "Mere coincidence," you say. Perhaps, but this is where I'm going to claim artistic licence. I rarely use the "artistic licence" card, so I figure that it can be used this time without much remorse. With my mythological/Irish Saint angle in mind, look below to read some fo the notes I scribbled frantically last weekend over a chicken bruchetta sandwich at Applebees (highly recommended - just hold the pesto.) It's a good thing that the hostess ushered me to a four person table, because there were papers everywhere!

The Bride/Bridget connection

O'Driscoll consistantly calls Bridget "his bride." Another name for Bridget (whom I will call Brigid from now on) is "bride." In fact in Ireland, Imbolc/Candlemas (Brigid/St.Brigid's holiday/feast day) is sometimes called Lá Fhéile Bride, thus utilizing this form of the name. More on Imbolc and Candlemas later.

Brigid the goddess and Brigid the saint are connected how?

I started to post this information here but it ended up being far far too long. be looking for a new blog post that describes this in the very near future.

So the name Brigid appears constantly, how do you know it's not just a regular person and not a goddess at all? What is keeping Bridget his bride from really being just that - the bride/wife of O'Driscoll?

This is a very valid question, and for all intents and purposes there really is no reason to not believe that the poem's Bridget is who O'Driscoll says she is - his bride. Initially, however, I have a number of problems with this.

1) It is Yeats who wrote the poem. Very few poems that I've read by him actually say what they say, especially when there in any possible other meaning and mythology or the occult could be involved. [Note: occult is being used here in its original meaning beyond the range of ordinary knowledge or understanding; mysterious.]

2) A number of key words in the poem center around festivities (bread, wine, dance, piper). People both old and young are present and cards are being played while the piper plays on. While a couple of phrases support the idea that the celebration could be a wedding and Bridget was indeed "bride."

He bore her away in his arms/ the handsomest young man there

The dancers crowded round him/ and many a sweet thing said ... But Bridget drew him by the sleeve/away from the merry bands

However, there seems more possible that it was not a wedding celebration, with constant references being made to the macabre. Last I checked, sad and doom were not words associated with joyous nuptials. Secondly, I would have to do more research on the subjects, but it seems a bit odd that old men would be playing cards (gambling?) during a wedding party. Finally, the title The Host of the Air implies interaction with supernatural beings. Why would the poem be titled that, and then spend eleven stanza discussing O'Driscoll's dream about his wedding-which-was-not? It makes more sense to attribute the dream's festivities to something tied to a supernatural being - thus building a case for Brigid the goddess.

Ok, so let's pretend for a second that Yeats Bridget the bride is the same as Brigid the goddess, why her and not some other Celtic goddess/god.

You, my imaginary audience, ask very good questions. In my mind, the answer is very simple. Whether Brigid or St. Brigid be the object of scrutiny, their jurisdictions (for serious lack of a better word) are much the same. The Celtic goddess Brigid was described by Lady Augusta Gregory (Gods and Fighting Men, 1904) as a woman of poetry, and poets worshiped her, for her sway was very great and very noble. ... Considered by some to be the Celtic equivalent of Minerva or Athena, Brigid was well loved by the Celtic peoples and the Druids. Not only the protector of poets, she also oversaw the areas of blacksmithing and healing. She was celebrated during the festival of Imbolc (one of the four pinnacle festivals of the Irish calendar) which centers around fire and purification; and marks the transition from winter into spring. Some of the information I read said that the festival was perhaps the precursor to the American holiday of Groundhog Day. Therefore, we have a couple reasons this poem could be about the goddess. Not only was she the protector of poets (Yeats was a poet), but she was also a very well loved being of spiritual significance in her time, and had a significant holiday dedicated to her honor.

As for St. Brigid, like the goddess, she is also the patron of poets/scholars and blacksmiths. While she isn't the patron of any key healing professions, she is connected to children, babies, midwives, children of unmarried parents, and newborns. Since Spring is the season of new birth, it is possible that a connection to the previously mentioned festivities in that manner. St. Brigid's feast day is February1, which is otherwise known as Candlemas. Any research done on Imbolc or Candlemas will inevitably tie one to the other; the only chronological difference I could find was that Imbolc was traditionally celebrated on February 2, however, I was left with the impression that this date was not set in stone.

And, if you are looking for yet more proof that Brigid = Bride I give you a Scottish proverb about Imbolc, translated into English.

The serpent will come from the hole
On the brown Day of Bride
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground

So her feast celebration was Imbolc, great. I thought you said that Imbolc was about fire and purification. I don't see anything like that mentioned in the poem.

You caught me. This is the massive flaw in my thought process, and the very reason that I plead artistic license. While a reference to smoke is made once in Host of the Air I can find nothing that talks about fire, purification, badgers, or other key elements of the original Imbolc festival. Please pretend that this gape in logic does not exist.

Well that pretty much covers my Applebees notes. I did make a number of other notes that confirmed/justified the connection between Brigid the goddess and Brigid the saint and those will be following soon. And as a random side note, I have been trying to find out if the name O'Driscoll has any mythological significance, but have come up empty handed. At this moment, I'm operating under the assumption that it is a semi-common surname and is of no overall significance.

number of dragon's legs etc. update

In the post "the number of a dragon's legs, alchemy, and other misadventures" I referenced an alchemist who wrote under the pseudonym of Abraham Eleazar. If you will note, I was unable to provide much information on the source as the information I did have was in German. Well thanks to a former co-worker of mine, that text has been translated. The translation complete with Tom's notes are as follows:

The German description of the text (best as I can tell without a dictionary) says that it's an ancient chemical work, compiled by the author from sources in Latin, Arabic, Chaldean and Syrian, anonymously translated into German, now however with coppers, figures, containers, and designs(?) ("Kupfern, Figuren, Gefaessan, Desen" - something wrong here), a short introduction, a key to foreign words and rules on using the philosopher's stone (!) for all lovers of hermetic philosophy. In two parts from the public press of Julium Gervasium Schwartzburgicum

the number of a dragon's legs, alchemy, and other misadventures

A little over a week ago I was confronted with a seemingly minor problem - an illuminated letter that I loved featured a serpent like dragon with two legs. Visually it looks complete but anatomically I was afraid it was glaringly erroneous in nature. The artist on my left shoulder said "leave it ... call it artistic licence" and the horrified academic on my right shoulder pleaded that I see sense and at least do a little bit of research first. After much squabbling the two temperaments reached a consensus. Digits might be added at the tip of the dragon's wings in lieu of a third and fourth appendage. Angels sang, the sun shone bright, and finally there was peace in the land ... until last night. The subject was reopened at the prompting of a friend and I was left to wonder why on Earth a dragon would have digits at the end of supposedly massive wings. What function could they possibly serve? Not only would they be too awkward to use for grasping anything; but due to their position , they would most likely be too fragile to support any significant amount weight. What's the point?

Here is where a great literary weakness must be admitted. No matter how infatuated with European and Celtic mythology I might be, very little time has been spent exploring myths of other cultures - especially that of the Orient. As a result, the dragons with which I am most familiar have four legs (the front pair sometimes smaller than the back) and that is that. Matt suggested that perhaps Chinese myth featured a two legged dragon, and even found such a specimen in Aztecan imagery. Thus began a search. Try Googling "dragon's legs" sometime. It returns a virtual plethora of subjects - diviantART, ill-advised leg tattoos, RuneScape armor, Chinese music CDs, Crayola Model Magic ideas, art how-to tutorials - but nothing that is terribly useful. "Dragon leg numbers" results are pretty much the same. A spur-of-the-moment search for "wyverns", however, returned numerous heraldic examples of two-legged serpentine creatures.

According to Merriam-Webster, wyvern (an altercation of the Middle English word for "viper") is "a mythical animal usually represented as a 2-legged winged creature resembling a dragon." the keyword here would be "resemble." Not an actual dragon, but close enough in appearance that I would be able to get away with using it represent one. Further digging through The Alchemy Website (which I highly recommend for a fun filled afternoon) revealed a number of engravings from a volume by Abraham Eleazar that I believe is from 1735. I don't read German, so maybe you can figure it out. Alchemically, the dragon was a very powerful allegorical symbol as it represents a dual natured mercurius in the first stage of creating the philosopher's stone. Chaucer approached the subject very poetically ([Hermes] seith, how the dragoun doutless,/ Ne deyeth nay, but-if that he be slayne,/ With his brother; and that is for sayn,/ By the dragoun, Mercurie and noon other/ He understood) but leaves me scratching my head going "huh?" Thankfully good ole' Nicholas Flamel comes to our rescue in his work Hermetic Museum with his disciption if the dragon's symbolism. Looke well upon these two Dragons, for they are the true principles of beginnings of this Phylosophy ... The first is called Sulphur, or heat an driness, and the latter Argent-vive, or cold, and moisture. These are the Sunne and Moone of the Mercurial source." Flamel later reveals that the winged dragon represents Argent-vive (the female aspect of Mercurial) because it is borne away through the air ... because in a certain degree it flies away or evaporates. One should also note that the magical mercurial waters produced in this process were called dragon's blood. I have a number of thoughts concerning the alchemical role of the dragon in Yeats' Elemental Powers, but they need to be clarified just a little bit more before posting.

This blog certainly ended up in a completely different place than it started, but it has presented me with a new symbol to investigate. All that is to say, both the artistic and academic me are presently quite happy with the two-legged dragon.

Image 1: Illuminated letter "the" from The Poet Pleads with the Elemental Powers - 2008, Hilary Lindler. all rights reserved

Image 2: 142x94mm engraving from pg. 8 from Abraham Eleazar's book

brainstorming for "the poet pleads with the elemental powers"

Below are my notations and brainstorming for the this poem. This poem has proven to be rather complicated due to the appearance of all four elements in the poem (though I may be forcing the "Earth" connection). Not only do I need to figure out what role these elements play; but the philisophical and physical implications of each element could prove very important. I then have to learn to combine all these differnet elements so that they form some sort of cohesive vision though which the poem can be viewed. Stay tuned for further discussion on Elemental Powers.

brainstorming for "withering of the boughs"

I haven't gotten terribly far with Withering of the Boughs as of yet, but it looks like the poem holds a lot of promise. This afternoon over a cup of apple and spice tea I located what seemed to be the most obvious imagery and sketched a series of 3 first initials. None of the initials strike me as being "the one," but there are elements in the last two that I especially like. Those will be briefly broken down individually in the following posts. As you will note, there is a list underneath the poem called "actions." Withering Boughs seems to feature a series of phrases where one object is acting upon another. Clearly stated ones are listed in the hope that they will become the basis for a descent title page at least.

yeats and reoccurring words - an analyzation of "fire" and "air"

Notice that the poem below, just like other poems featured in previous posts, features a box of seemingly random words. These are words that I found to be repeated in at least one other poem I have chosen for this project. The purpose of this list has yet to be determined so for now it is merely a point of interest. If some viable connection can be made between the reoccurring words than perhaps it is something that can inform the imagery that is chosen the TTP (The Tengwar Project). For instance, some of the words like "fire/flame" and "air/wind" appear in almost every poem chosen. Now my reading on alchemical symbolism (which appears in most of the pieces I've chosen to use) tells me that fire and air were considered to "temper" (or exercise control over) each other as elements.

fire = Mastery of this element provided one with the ability to express divine love and it was the chief agent of transmutation in the alchemical process. Compared to the sun by alchemist Nicholas Flamel (fire heats furnace & vessels :: sun heats Earth), Alchemy itself appears to have been known as the art of fire. In New Light of Alchymie, Micheal Sendivogius described the element this way. "Fire is the purest, and most worthy Element of all, full of unctuous corrosivenesse adhereing to it, penetrating, digesting, corroding, and wonderfully adhereing, without visible, but within invisible, and most fixed, it is hot and dry and tempered with Aire." Make of that what you will. Oh yes, and for all you HP geeks out there, I was surprised to discover that Nicholas Flamel was once an actual human being as well.

air = Mastery of this element provided one with the brotherhood to all life. In a poetic sense, the most important thing about air seems to be that alchemists often referred to volatile spirits as being "airy." That reference seems to imply that the element of air was considered very difficult to master. Micheal Sendivogius had this to say about it. "The Aire is an entire Element, most worth of the three in its quality, without, light and invisible, but within, heavy, visible, and fixed, and when it is fixed it makes every body penetrable." Far more clear than his description of fire, the most important information seems to be that M.S. believed air to be of much higher value than all the other elements combined. Could this be due to it's difficulty to tame?

Since I am now operating on the (informed) assumption that the poetry is infused with alchemical symbolism, it only makes sense to start examining the reoccurring words under that type of microscope. At the moment I'm noticing a couple of things that could be important about fire and air.

1) Even though fire is at the heart of alchemy (the art of fire), it is air that M.S. claims to be of better quality. In a poetic sense, this bestows a sense of noblesse upon the usage of this word. (i.e. In The Song of Wandering Aengus Yeats notes that a "glimmering girl" fades through the "brightening air." On one level this is just a case of a feminine apparition. Could it be, however, that the manner in which this female figure disappeared speaks to the value this woman has in the poem? After all, the next stanza discusses exactly what the author would do should he ever find this woman again.)

2) It was believed that if one could master fire, perhaps more metaphysically than literally, than they would be capable of expressing divine love. Since alchemy was considered the art of fire, one can only assume that learning to control this element was not entirely impossible. On the other hand, air was considered volatile. The ability to master this element provided one with a gift far better than divine love - the brotherhood of all life. For those of you who don't know, one of the key goals of alchemy was the creation of the philosopher's stone. (Yes this was pre-existing as well - Rowling did not pull it out of her top hat.) It was believed that should one ever create this "stone" it would not only be able to turn base metals into pure gold, but that it would also possess the base metal to make all imperfect things perfect. Hey! That sounds a good bit like achieving "brotherhood of all life" doesn't it? Perhaps the mastery of air was just as elusive as the creation of the philosopher's stone. Just as the alchemists believed the two elements had the power to control the other, or at least balance the each other out, perhaps Yeats used them int eh same manner poetically. (i.e. In Wandering Aengus, which is the only poem I've fully dissected to date, the author states "I went to blow the fire-a-flame/ But something rustled on the floor." What was it that kept him from lighting a fire? None other than the girl who faded into "the brightening air." Again I could be nit picking, but it almost seems too much of a coincidence to ignore completely.)

All that is to say, that there is a whole lot going on behind the scenes as I try to pull these drawings together. Everywhere I turn there seems to be a new angle. While there is a danger of getting so caught up in the different angles that I lost in information overload, that doesn't seem like it will be too much of a problem. Things are clearly spelled out in my head, and the task really at hand is to assess any new information I'm faced with, pass it through the Irish myth/Alchemy filter and keep what is applicable. The risk to this method lies in the fact that I'm anything but an expert on either subject. To opportunity in the method is that TTP is turning out to be much more of an academic experience than I could have ever dreamed. How exciting!

possible alchemy connection notes "song of the wandering aengus"

This is where I began to notice some connections to alchemy. You can see a lot of circling and underlining and line drawing ... it ends up that there were even more connections than my brain as able to pick up on as I ate pizza and sketched (Do not try this at home, pizza sauce and sketches can be a devistating combination. Like the Mythbusters, I have years of experience to keep me safe ... sort of). I was up until 2am Friday night finding more connections and making notes about all the symbolism I could find. Since those scribblings span a good six pages I will only post the poem text for now in an effort to not overwhelm you with detail!