As for the images, reduced to their essentials, they could appear rough, crude, and massive. These works can be visually reminiscent of Henry Moore’s sculptures, and they have a similar presence.
Sometimes there was a desire to make images ambiguous. It is difficult to be sure whether the legs of Cernunnos have actually turned into writhing serpents or if he is simply standing behind the snakes. It is as if the artist was deliberately setting up a visual riddle. The pairing of Cernunnos, the antlered god, with his companion, the stag, in itself suggests a bond between them. But to give both stag and god identical antlers is taking the statement a step further, toward shapeshifting. Can the stag and the god actually transform into one another? Are they in fact two manifestations of the same being?
The weirdness of some images is intentional; this is the weirdness of the Otherworld—the dream world where people and gods can mingle, and where the living can meet the dead. It is the strange world we inhabit, or migrate to, when we fall asleep.
One of the finest pieces of artwork from Britain in the first century AD is the Battersea shield—if judged by classical standards. This piece of Romano-Celtic bronze parade armor was deposited in the Thames River at Battersea, and probably left there deliberately.
The bronze-covered iron helmet found at Agris in Charente must have been made for ceremonial use. It is covered in fine detail in low relief, with gold and coral inlays added: an astonishingly sophisticated piece of metalwork, more crown than helmet.
The distinctive art style that we generally recognize as Celtic is really the linear art that began with the La Tène culture. It consists of a decorative line that curves sinuously in an S-shape, often repeatedly and rhythmically, sometimes symmetrically, and sometimes not. The S-shape was often developed with eddies and circles to make very elaborate patterns. The style reached its peak long after the La Tène culture was over, indeed long after the Celts generally had lost their political and cultural dominance in Europe, when even their religious beliefs had been overwhelmed and supplanted. The peak was reached in the illuminated gospels drawn and painted by monks in the eighth and ninth centuries AD, works such as The Book of Kells and The Lindisfarne Gospels.
The minutely elaborate detailing of The Book of Kells was described by a visitor in 1185 as “the work of an angel,” and so it still seems. It is so ornate, so exuberant, so controlled, and so perfect that it can scarcely be the work of human hand. The intricate design was not a sudden late invention, but part of a long tradition that went back to the fourth century BC.
It is hard to single out specific artworks as representing the pinnacle of a culture, but there is general agreement that the illustrated manuscripts of the eighth and ninth centuries AD are the finest productions of Celtic art. There is a certain irony in this. The Celts of pre-Christian, pre-Roman Europe were reluctant writers; the miraculous fusion of elements in the early medieval The Book of Kells is really a masterpiece of calligraphy, the most elaborately decorated writing ever conceived.
ARTHMAEL
St. Arthmael was the son of a noble in Glevissig (Glamorgan), who was probably educated at Illtud’s school. He took holy orders on leaving school. He was a pioneering, crusading Christian and is thought by some to be one of the prototypes for an otherwise fictional Arthur. He decided to give up his property and emigrate to Brittany. When Conomorus killed Jonas of Domnonie, Arthmael withdrew for safety with Judwal of Domnonie along with St. Samson and others. They took refuge for a time with Childebert in Paris. When Arthmael returned to Brittany, he settled at St. Armel near Rennes.
ARTHUR
Possibly the best-known and least-known figure of the Celtic Dark Ages. Everyone knows the name of Arthur, but there are many different views about his historicity. Some scholars think he was a real British king, though not the king of all Britain, while others think he is a complete fiction. My own view is that he was real.
DID HE REALLY EXIST?
There are two certain dated references to Arthur in the Easter Annals, which show that he existed as a prominent historical figure:
516: Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the cross of our lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders for three days and three nights, and the British were victors.
537: Strife of Camlann, in which Arthur and Medraut perished [or fell].
There are various scraps of evidence of his celebrity as warrior and war leader, for instance in The Gododdin (a series of elegies) a warrior is compared unfavorably with Arthur—he fought well, though “he was no Arthur.”
The inscriptions on scattered stone memorials created in the sixth century are consistent in content and date with genealogies and other documents that we only have in copies written down much later. In other words, some of the later documents are corroborated by evidence dating from Arthur’s time. A pedigree from Pembrokeshire running to 31 generations mentions a prince named Arthur who lived in the later sixth century and was probably born around 550, just about the time of Arthur’s death according to the Easter Annals. It is possible that the child was named in memory of the king who had recently died.
An argument against Arthur’s existence is that he is not mentioned in The Ruin of Britain by the monk Gildas, written in about 540. “The silence of Gildas” can be explained fairly easily. First, Arthur was so well known by Britons living in the mid-sixth century that they didn’t need Gildas to explain who he was. Secondly, Gildas refers to kings obliquely, by nickname. Contemporary readers would have known exactly who he meant, even if we don’t, and it was his contemporaries Gildas was addressing. But Gildas describes a king called Cuneglasus as “the Bear’s charioteer.” The identity of the Bear is not immediately obvious to us, but Gildas played word games with the names of other kings, referring, for example, to Cynan or Conan as Caninus, the Dog. “The Bear” in Welsh is Arth, which brings us equally close to the name of Arthur. King Cuneglasus might as a young princeling 20 years earlier have served in Arthur’s army, and he might have been given the privileged position of driving Arthur’s chariot. So, Arthur does appear to be mentioned by Gildas after all, even if in disguise.
Some of those scholars who believe that Arthur did not exist argue their case on something very close to conspiracy theory. They begin from the presupposition that he never existed, therefore all the references to him, even in otherwise authentic documents, must be unhistorical, later interpolations, anachronistic intrusions, and corruptions of the text. Once a decision is made that Arthur cannot have existed, any evidence that he did exist must be fake. This is not so far from the conspiracy theory about the Apollo moon landings, which some people like to see as an elaborate hoax. The more evidence that is brought forward to show that the flights to the moon really happened, the more elaborate and cunning it proves the hoax to be.
We could contrast the historic Arthur and the mythic Fionn. Fionn is alleged to have fought with Vikings, but he died in AD 283, which is too early for him to have encountered them. Conversely, the Easter Annals strongly imply that