Daniel Kirkpatrick

Odin, Zeus, Jupiter, Ra – these are all household names for their respective pantheon’s ‘All-Father’. I have no doubt that few people would ever add Dagda to this list,¹ but there’s no debating his place at the head of the Irish gods. Central to the myths surrounding the Tuatha Dé Danann, through his myths he remains an enduring symbol of Irish craftsmanship and art. He has many titles: the ‘good god’, “horseman, all-father”,² “red man of all knowledge”,³ and lord over the famed neolithic temple Newgrange.

But Dagda represents much more.

Father of gods

The first thing I cannot help notice with Dagda is his long list of acclaimed children – at least 3 daughters and 4 sons by my count. And what a family he had.

First there’s his daughters Eire and Fodla and Banba, notable for being Ireland’s namesake. They are referred to as the three queen’s of Ireland who were eventually killed in the Battle of Tailltin when the Gaels invaded and fought with the Men of Dea. Interestingly, Eire (referred to here as Eriu) led an army of her own warriors to battle the Gaels, leading the fight herself.⁴

Of his sons, there’s his eldest, Bodb Dearg, who was made King himself after his father. There was Diancecht the healer who killed his own son in jealousy at his son’s superior healing skill. There’s Angus Og who tricked his father out of his house by asking for it for a day and a night, but when asked to return it said: “that it had been given to him for ever, for the whole of life and time is made up of a day and a night, one following after the other.”⁵ Angus was the child of Dagda and Boand – the River goddess of the River Boyne. There was Cermait Honey-Mouth who we know little more than his name – though what a great name it is.

Heavy is the burden

One of the most intriguing tales, however, is of Dagda’s last son – Aedh. So the story goes, Aedh was murdered when a warrior called Corrgenn was visiting Dagda’s house and suspected Aedh of sleeping with his wife. Dagda decided not to kill Corrgenn outright in revenge. Instead, Dagda punished him by ordering the warrior “to take the dead body of the young man on his back, and never to lay it down till he would find a stone that would be its very fit in length and in breadth, and that would make a gravestone for him; and when he had found that, he could bury him in the nearest hill.”⁶

Of course – as is very typical in Irish myths – after long wandering for the gravestone, Corregenn buried Aedh only to collapse immediately after with exhaustion and die himself. Dagda’s punishment was far more severe and performative than had he simply had the warrior killed. Corrgenn’s murder literally weighed on his back until it destroyed him – a fitting and powerful metaphor. This was one of many examples of Dagda’s ingenuity and wisdom; traits which also earned his the title of builder.

Builder of Raths

Dagda was described as being “a good builder” and “put to build raths”, that is great forts. He is said to have dug a great trench around one in particular called Rath Brese, though we know no more than that. Besides being a builder, he appears to have also taken on builders of his own. One example takes place just after the conclusion of the story above and the death of his son Aedh, where Dagda decides to build a fort on top of Aedh’s grave:

“Dagda brought his two builders, Garbhan and Imheall, to the place, and he bade them build a rath there round the grave. It was Garbhan cut the stones and shaped them, and Imheall set them all round the house till the work was finished, and then he closed the top of the house with a slab. And the place was called the Hill of Aileac, that is, the Hill of Sighs and of a Stone, for it was tears of blood the Dagda shed on account of the death of his son.”⁷

Building the Hill of Aileac (meaning stoney house) places a memorial over his son’s grave, a place to always mark his untimely passing. The ancient Irish’s belief in link between the living and dead is wonderfully encapsulated by this legend. Dagda’s sorrow is given expression through his skill; even though he doesn’t build the Rath, his very direction implies his hand in its design.

Beside this tale, it is believe Dagda built Newgrange (Brú na Bóinne) making it his home. Here he built a great cooking oven, halls, a great bed, and a great vat. To us looking backwards, these seem odd and insignificant things, but to the ancient Irish these were symbols of luxury, power and prestige. This ‘house’ is referred to again and again the Irish myths as a place of hospitality and influence. Though, for any who have visited Newgrange today, it soon becomes clear that it’s significance was much less a ‘house’ as a ritual site for the dead – a passage between this world and the otherworld. Indeed, in the ancient legends, Dagda is frequently described as the King of the Síde, that is the supernatural beings frequently portrayed as elves or spirits who dwelt in the world beyond this one.⁸

Red Man of Knowledge

In Lady Gregory’s account of Dagda she describes him as “the Red Man of all Knowledge”⁹ which can seem an odd way to describe someone until you realise the significance colour holds in myths and legends. For the colour ‘red’ was typically associated with death. The Alder tree whose bark appears red was known as the tree of death. The famed warriors of Ulaid had scarlet cloaks symbolising their role in bringing death. So this title suggests Dagda perhaps had a knowledge of death – which makes sense when one considers the significance of Newgrange as a house of passage between this life and the next.

Reinforcing this view, the ancient Irish term the ‘good god’ doesn’t refer to a moral sense but rather that he was “good for everything”.¹⁰ It was more a functional and intellectual goodness, providing for his people and the land. As explained in the Irish legend of ‘the wooing of Etain’: “Dagda…performed miracles and saw to the weather and the harvest, and that is why he was called the Good God.”¹¹ In other words, Dagda sustained the very cycles on which the ancient Irish lived and depended – the very thing that dictated their religious calendar and worship (e.g. at the equinoxes).

Relevance to Contemporary Irish Culture

One scholar presents a helpful qualification on the above discussion, for while Dagda was undoubtedly revered by the early Irish, to describe him as a god comparable to the other ancient religions would be misleading. For the Irish understanding of a god and those of other ancient cultures was not a simple like-for-like comparison.

“They [including Dagda] were not gods in the sense of deities to be revered, but were regarded as supernatural beings who could and did perform deeds beyond the power of mortals….[I]n some unexplained way, they were able to live on from age to age so that they seemed always present and could intervene at will in the affairs of man.”¹²

So while Dagda may not have been a typical ‘god’, he certainly holds many of the attributes of someone godlike. For me, this makes his significance all the more relevant to today, for Dagda represents an ancient embodiment of wisdom, strength, and power. His humanness makes him more relatable, particularly his grief over his son Aedh. And if that wasn’t enough, he is inextricably linked to one of Ireland’s most enduring monuments of Newgrange. Perhaps, through these myths, Dagda continues to live from age to age.

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1. I’m setting aside the argument that the Irish gods are not a true pantheon or a direct comparison. For the purposes of this illustrative point, it isn’t relevant. ↩︎
2. This the name given in ancient text of Lebor Gabala Erenn: The Book of the Taking of Ireland written in the 11th century. ↩︎
3. Lady Gregory (1905), Gods and Fighting Men, p101. ↩︎
4. Lady Gregory (1905), p93. ↩︎
5. Lady Gregory (1905), p102. ↩︎
6. Lady Gregory (1905), p104. ↩︎
7. Lady Gregory (1905), p104.  ↩︎
8. For instance, in the Irish legend of the Dream of Oengus. ↩︎
9. Lady Gregory (1905), p101.  ↩︎
10. Michael J. O’Kelly: Newgrange: archaeology, art and legend. New Aspects of Antiquity series. London: Thames & Hudson, 1982, pp45. ↩︎
11. Jeffrey Gantz (1981) trans. Early Irish Myths and Sagas. Penguin Classics., p39. ↩︎
12. O’Kelly (1982), p45. ↩︎

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