The White Goddess

by Robert Graves

  The formula is plain. The Sun-god of Stonehenge was the Lord of Days, and the thirty arches of the outer circle and the thirty posts of the inner circle stood for the days of the ordinary Egyptian month; but the secret enclosed by these circles was that the solar year was divided into five seasons, each in turn divided into three twenty-four-day periods, represented by the three stones of the dolmens, and each of these again into three ogdoads, represented by the three smaller posts in front of the dolmens. For the circle was so sited that at dawn of the summer solstice the sun rose exactly at the end of the avenue in dead line with the altar and the Heel stone; while, of the surviving pair of the four undressed stones, one marks the sun’s rising at the winter solstice, the other its setting at the summer solstice.

  But why were the altar stone and the uprights transported all the way from South Wales? Presumably to break the religious power of the Pembrokeshire Death-goddess – the pre-Celtic Annwm, as we have seen, was in Pembroke – by removing her most sacred undressed stones and reerecting them, dressed, on the Plain. According to Geoffrey of Monmouth, this was done by Merlin. Geoffrey, who mistakenly dates the event to the time of Hengist and Horsa, says that Merlin obtained the stones from Ireland, but the tradition perhaps refers to the Land of Erin – Erin, or Eire or Eriu, being a pre-Celtic Fate-goddess who gave her name to Ireland. ‘Erin’, usually explained as the dative case of Eriu’s name, may be the Greek Triple Fate-goddess ‘Erinnys’ whom we know as the Three Furies. The amber found in the barrows near Stonehenge is for the most part red, not golden; like that found on the Phoenician coast.

  Seventy-two will have been the main canonical number at Stonehenge: the seventy-two days of the midsummer season. Seventy-two was the Sun’s grandest number; eight, multiplied ninefold by the fertile Moon. The Moon was Latona, Hyperborean Apollo’s mother, and she determined the length of the sacred king’s reign. The approximate concurrence of solar and lunar time once every nineteen years – 19 revolutions of the Sun, 235 lunations of the Moon – ruled that Apollo should be newly married and crowned every nineteenth year at the Spring solstice, when he kept a seven months’ holiday in the Moon’s honour. The number 19 is commemorated at Stonehenge in nineteen socket-holes arranged in a semicircle on the South-east of the arched circle.1 The fate of the old king was perhaps the hill-top fate of Aaron and of Moses, darkly hinted at in Exodus, and the fate of Dionysus at Delphi: to be disrobed and dismembered by his successor and, when the pieces were gathered together, to be secretly buried in a chest with the promise of an eventual glorious resurrection.

  Stonehenge is now generally dated between 1700 and 1500 BC and regarded as the work of broad-skulled Bronze-Age invaders. The stones are so neatly cut and jointed that one responsible archaeologist, G. F. Kendrick of the British Museum, suggests that they were not placed in position until Belgic times; but the more probable explanation is that the architects had studied in Egypt or Syria.

  If then the God of Stonehenge was cousin to Jehovah of Tabor and Zion, one would expect to find the same taboos on the eating or killing of certain animals observed in Palestine and ancient Britain, taboos being far more easily observable than dogma. This proposition is simply tested by inquiring whether the edible but tabooed beasts in Leviticus which are native to both countries were ever tabooed in Britain. There are only two such beasts, the pig and the hare; for the ‘coney’ of Leviticus is not the British coney, or rabbit, but the hyrax, an animal peculiar to Syria and sacred to the Triple Goddess because of its triangular teeth and its litters of three. Both hare and pig were tabooed in ancient Britain: we know of the hare-taboo from Pliny; and that the hare was a royal animal is proved by the story of the hare taken by Boadicea into battle. The Kerry peasants still abominate hare-meat: they say that to eat it is to eat one’s grandmother. The hare was sacred, I suppose, because it is very swift, very prolific – even conceives, Herodotus notes, when already pregnant – and mates openly without embarrassment like the turtle-dove, the dog, the cat or the tattooed Pict. The position of the Hare constellation at the feet of Orion suggests that it was sacred in Pelasgian Greece too. The pig was also sacred in Britain, and the pig-taboo survived until recently in Wales and Scotland; but as in Egypt, and according to Isaiah among the Canaanites of Jerusalem, this taboo was broken once a year at mid-winter with a Pig-feast, the feast of the Boar’s Head. The fish-taboo, partial in Leviticus, was total in Britain and among the Egyptian priesthood and must have been most inconvenient. It survived in parts of Scotland until recent times. The bird-taboos, already mentioned in the lapwing context as common to Britain and Canaan, are numerous. The porpoise (mistranslated ‘badger’) whose skins made the covering for the Ark of the Covenant has always been one of the three royal ‘fish’ of Britain, the others being the whale – the first living thing created by Jehovah, and ‘whale’ includes the narwhal – and the sturgeon, which does not occur in the Jordan but was sacred in Pelasgian Greece and Scythia. According to Aelian, fishermen who caught a sturgeon garlanded themselves and their boats; according to Macrobius it was brought to table crowned with flowers and preceded by a piper.

  The Hebrews seem to have derived their Aegean culture, which they shared with the descendants of the Bronze Age invaders of Britain, partly from the Danaans of Tyre and the Sabians of Harran, but mostly (as has already been suggested in Chapter Four) from the Philistines whose vassals they were for some generations; the Philistines, or Puresati, being immigrants from Asia Minor mixed with Greek-speaking Cretans. Those of Gaza brought with them the cult of Zeus Marnas (said to mean ‘virgin-born’ in Cretan) which was also found at Ephesus, and used Aegean writing for some time after the Byblians had adopted Babylonian cuneiform. The Philistine city of Ascalon was said by Xanthus, an early Lydian historian, to have been founded by one Ascalos, uncle to Pelops of Enete on the Southern Black Sea Coast, whose king was Aciamus, a native of the same region. Among the Philistines mentioned in the Bible are Piram and Achish, identifiable with the Trojan and Dardanian names Priam and Anchises; the Dardanians were among the tribes under Hittite leadership that Rameses II defeated at the Battle of Kadesh in 1335 BC. It is probable that the Levitical list of tabooed beasts and birds was taken over by the Israelites from the Philistines: and perhaps written down in the ninth century BC, which is when the Lycian tale of Proetus, Anteia and Bellerophon was inappropriately incorporated in the story of Joseph – Anteia becoming Potiphar’s wife.

  Avebury undoubtedly dates from the end of the third millennium BC. It is a circular earthwork enclosing a ring of one hundred posts and these again enclosing two separate temples, all the stones being unhewn and very massive. The temples consist of circles of posts, of which the exact numbers are not known because so many have been removed and because the irregular size of the remainder makes calculation difficult: but there seem to have been about thirty in each case. Within each of these circles was an inner circle of twelve posts: one of them containing a single altar post, the other three.

  One hundred months was the number of lunations in the Pelasgian Great Year, which ended with an approximation of lunar and solar time, though a much rougher one than at the close of the nineteen-year cycle. The twin kings each reigned for fifty of these months; which may account for the two temples. If in one temple the posts of the outer circle numbered twenty-nine, and in the other thirty, this would represent months of alternately twenty-nine and thirty days, as in the Athenian calendar – a lunation lasting for 29½ days. On the analogy of the story in Exodus, XXIV, 4 we may assume that the inner circles represented the king and his twelve clan-chieftains, though in one case the central altar has been enlarged to three, perhaps in honour of the king as three-bodied Geryon.

  A serpentine avenue enters the Avebury earthwork from the south-east and south-west and encloses two barrows, one of them heaped in the shape of a phallus and the other in the shape of a scrotum. To the south, beyond these, rises Silbury Hill, the largest artificial mound in Europe, covering over five acres, with a flat
top of the same diameter as that of New Grange but thirty feet higher. I take Silbury to be the original Spiral Castle of Britain, as New Grange is of Ireland; the oracular shrine of Bran, as New Grange was of The Dagda. Avebury itself was not used for burials.

  An interesting subject of poetic speculation is: why the Beth-Luis-Nion order of vowels, A.O.U.E.I., which is an order phonetically expressive of the progress and retreat of the year, with U as its climax, was altered in the Cadmean and Latin alphabets to A.E.I.O.U. The clue lies perhaps in the numerical values known to have been assigned in mediaeval Irish literature to the vowels, namely A, one; E, two; I, three; O, four. The numerical value five was assigned to B, the first consonant of the alphabet, which suggests that it originally belonged to U, the remaining vowel, which had no numerical value in this system, but which is the character that expresses the Roman numeral 5. If the vowels are regarded as a seasonal sequence, with A for New Year, O for Spring, U for Summer, E for Autumn and I for Winter, the original numerical values make poetic sense. A had One, as the New Year Goddess of origin; E had Two, as the Autumn Goddess of rutting and combat; I had Three, as the Winter Goddess of Death, pictured as the Three Fates, or the Three Furies, or the three Graeae, or the three-headed Bitch; O had Four, as the Spring Goddess of increase; U had Five, as the Summer Goddess, the leafy centre of the year, the Queen of the whole Pentad. It follows speculatively that the original numerical value of the Pelasgian vowels – A, One; E, Two; I, Three; O, Four; U, Five – suggested to the makers of the Cadmean alphabet that the vowels should be logically arranged in simple arithmetical progression from One to Five.

  The numerical values given by the Irish to the remaining letters of the 13-consonant Beth-Luis-Nion are as follows:

  B Beth Five

  L Luis Fourteen

  N Nion Thirteen

  F Fearn Eight

  S Saille Sixteen

  H Uath No value

  D Duir Twelve

  T Tinne Eleven

  C Coll Nine

  M Min Six

  G Gort Ten

  P Peth Seven

  R Ruis Fifteen

  Exactly why each of these values was assigned to its consonant may De debated at length; but obvious poetic reasons appear in several cases. For example, Nine is the number traditionally associated with Coll, the Hazel, the tree of Wisdom; Twelve is the number traditionally associated with the Oak – the Oak-king has twelve merry men; Fifteen is the number of Ruis, the last month, because it is the fifteenth consonant in the complete alphabet. The numbers Eight and Sixteen for the consonants F and S which follow on the Spring vowel O, or Four, make obvious sense in the context of increase. That H and U are denied numerical values suggests that they were kept out of the sequence for religious reasons. For U was the vowel of the Goddess of Death-in-Life, whom the Sun-god deposed; H was the consonant of Uath, the unlucky, or too holy, May month.

  If this number system is of Apollonian origin and belongs to the period when the Irish had come under Greek influence, it is likely that P has been given seven, and L fourteen, and N thirteen as their values, in honour of Apollo. For the assignment of these values to the consonants of his seven-lettered Greek name turns it into a miniature calendar: P, the seven days of the week; LL, the twenty-eight days of a common-law month; N, the thirteen common-law months of the year. The vowel values complete the table: A, the single extra day; O, the four weeks of the common-law month; long O, the two halves of the year: APOLLŌN.

  This sort of ingenious play with letters and numerals was characteristic of the Celtic poets. What fun they must have had in their forest colleges! And such restorations of their lore as can still be made from surviving records are more than quaint historical curiosities; they illustrate a poetic method of thought which has not yet outlasted its usefulness, however grossly abused by mystical quacks of the intervening centuries.

  Consider, for instance, the Bird-ogham and Colour-ogham in the Book of Ballymote. The composers of these two cyphers had to bear in mind not only the initial of every word but its poetic relation to the already established letter-month. Thus no migratory bird appears in the list of winter months, and samad (sorrel) is not applied to the S-month, as one might have expected, because the sorrel plant goes sorrel-colour only in the late summer. The lists could have been made more nearly poetic if the initials had allowed; thus the Robin would doubtless have led in the year, had he begun with a B, not an S (spidéog), and there was no word for Owl that could be used for the Ng-month when owls are most vocal.

  I can best make my point by glossing the cyphers in imitation of the style used in the Book of Ballymote itself, drawing on bardic lore in every case.

  *

  Day of the Winter Solstice – A – aidhircleóg, lapwing; alad, piebald. Why is the lapwing at the head of the vowels?

  Not hard to answer. It is a reminder that the secrets of the Beth-Luis Nion must be hidden by deception and equivocation, as the lapwing hides her eggs. And Piebald is the colour of this mid-winter season when wise men keep to their chimney-corners, which are black with soot inside and outside white with snow; and of the Goddess of Life-in-Death and Death-in-Life, whose prophetic bird is the piebald magpie.

  Day of the Spring Equinox – O – odorscrach, cormorant; odhar, dun.

  Why is the Cormorant next?

  Not hard. This is the season of Lent when, because of the Church’s ban on the eating of meat and the scarcity of other foods, men become Cormorants in their greed for fish. And Dun is the colour of the newly ploughed fields.

  Day of the Summer Solstice – U – uiseóg, lark; usgdha, resin-coloured.

  Why is the Lark in the central place?

  Not hard. At this season the Sun is at his highest point, and the Lark flies singing up to adore him. Because of the heat the trees split and ooze resin, and Resin-coloured is the honey that the heather yields.

  Day of the Autumn Equinox – E – ela, whistling swan; erc, rufous-red.

  Why is the Whistling Swan in the next place?

  Not hard. At this season the Swan and her young prepare for flight. And Rufous-red is the colour of the bracken, and of the Swan’s neck.

  Day of the Winter Solstice – I – illait, eaglet; irfind, very white.

  Why is the Eaglet in the next place?

  Not hard. The Eaglet’s maw is insatiable, like that of Death, whose season this is. And Very White are the bones in his nest, and the snow on the cliff-ledge.

  * * *

  Dec. 24-Jan. 21 – B – besan, pheasant; bàn, white.

  Why is the Pheasant at the head of the consonants?

  Not hard. This is the month of which Amergin sang: ‘I am the Stag of Seven Tines’; and as venison is the best flesh that runs, so Pheasant is the best that flies. And White is the colour of this Stag and of this Pheasant.

  Jan. 22-Feb. 18 – L – lachu, duck; liath, grey.

  Why is the Duck in the next place?

  Not hard. This is the month of floods, when Ducks swim over the meadows. And Grey is the colour of flood-water and of rainy skies.

  Feb. 19-Mar. 18 – N – naescu, snipe; necht, clear.

  Why is the Snipe in the next place?

  Not hard. This is the month of the mad March Wind that whirls like a Snipe. And Clear is the colour of Wind.

  Mar. 19-Apr. 15 – F – faelinn, gull; flann, crimson.

  Why is the Gull in the next place?

  Not hard. In this month Gulls congregate on the ploughed fields. And Crimson is the colour of the glain, the magical egg which is found in this month, and of alder-dye, and of the Young Sun struggling through the haze.

  Apr. 16-May 13 – S – seg, hawk; sodath, fine-coloured.

  Why is the Hawk in the next place?

  Not hard. Amergin sang of this month: ‘I am a Hawk on a Cliff.’ And Fine-coloured are its meadows.

  The same – SS – stmolach, thrush; sorcha, bright-coloured.

  Why is the Thrush joined with the Hawk?

  Not hard. The Th
rush sings his sweetest in this month. And Bright-coloured are the new leaves.

  May 14-Jun. 10. - H – hadaig, night-crow; huath, terrible.

  Why is the Night-crow in the next place?

  Not hard. This is the month when we refrain from carnal pleasures because of terror, which in Irish is uath, and the Night-crow brings terror. Terrible is its colour.

  Jun. 11-July 8 – D – droen, wren; dub, black.

  Why is the Wren in the central place?

  Not hard. The Oak is the tree of Druids and the king of trees, and the Wren, Drui-én, is the bird of the Druids and the King of all birds. And the Wren is the soul of the Oak. Black is the colour of the Oak when the lightning blasts it, and black the faces of those who leap between the Midsummer fires.

  July 9-Aug. 5 – T – truith, starling; temen, dark-grey.

  Why is the Starling in the next place?

  Not hard. Amergin sang of this month: ‘I am a Spear that roars for blood.’ It is the warrior’s month, and the Starlings’ well-trained army will wheel swiftly and smoothly on a pivot, to the left or to the right, without a word of command or exhortation; thus battles are won, not by single feats and broken ranks. And Dark-grey is the colour of Iron, the warriors’ metal.

  Aug. 6-Sept. 2 – C – [corr, crane]; cron, brown.

  Why is the Crane in the next place?

  Not hard. This is the month of wisdom, and the wisdom of Manannan Mac Lir, namely the Beth-Luis-Nion, was wrapped in Crane-skin. And Brown are the nuts of the Hazel, tree of wisdom.

  The same – Q – querc, hen; quiar, mouse-coloured.

  Why is the Hen joined with the Crane?

  Not hard. When the harvest is carted, and the gleaners have gone, the Hen is turned into the cornfields to fatten on what she can find. And a Mouse-coloured little rival creeps around with her.

  Sept. 2-Sept. 30 – M – mintan, titmouse; mbracht, variegated.