Let us crown her a queen; and then let her do with her lands as a queen may do.1
These words were written in 1848 by farmer-turned-polemicist James Fintan Lalor. His theories about Irish nationalism and the land question have been circulated and cited for more than a century. His references to the “Island-queen”, scattered throughout his articles and letters, have been largely ignored however.
But they are important. They offer an insight into the mind of someone who looked beyond the materialistic and the mercantile preoccupations of his time and ours. Lalor saw Ireland, not as a small island in the north Atlantic or as a piece of real estate to be bought and sold, but as a living presence, a living female presence. Ireland was, he proposed, “a poor lady” who had been “decrowned” and who must be restored to her rightful position.2
Lalor was not alone in his perspective. Patrick Pearse, who admired Lalor greatly, wrote that, “when I was a child I believed that there was actually a woman called Erin”. Although in adulthood he did not regard this “as a physical possibility”, Pearse retained a belief in the spiritual reality of what he called “the soul of Ireland”.3 And hers was an ancient soul, as Pearse conveyed in his Irish-language poem, Mise Éire.
In translation, it begins:
I am Ireland:
I am older than the Old Woman of Beare.4
As I have discussed elsewhere, composer Seán Ó Riada had his own unique insight into “the soul of Ireland”, which he expressed through his stirring music for the documentary film which took its title, Mise Éire, from Pearse’s poem.5 (You can read my piece here.)
The woman that these three men perceived was hardly the figure depicted in the Bible as the “weaker sex”.6 This woman was ancient and strong, like one of those prehistoric Dolmen structures still to be seen around the country. Lalor, Pearse, and Ó Riada recognised Ireland as somehow greater than themselves. Someone who inspired devotion and longing in their hearts.
Who is she, this feminine presence, this Ireland?
In 1935, when he was drafting his new Constitution, Éamon de Valera insisted that “the name of the State shall be Éire”.7 In following the nomenclature used by Pearse, de Valera was tapping into Ireland’s ancient mythology. Éire is a derivation of Ériu, a goddess of the Tuatha dé Danann, a mysterious race who lived in Ireland many centuries before Christ.
According to the Irish scholar, T. F. O’Rahilly, Ériu was honoured as “the Earth-mother, who was identified with the land of Ireland”.8 O’Rahilly goes on to state:
In early Irish belief each king of Tara (or Ireland) on attaining the kingship was espoused to the goddess Ériu… In [one poem] we find her depicted as a lady wearing a golden crown and seated on a crystal throne, having before her a vat of red liquor, from which she pours a draught into a gold cup which she hands to each successive king of Ireland… The idea of Ireland as a woman wedded to her rightful king persisted all through the centuries… [but then] owing to the English invasion, Éire has long been widowed.9
So here we have a female and a queen who, through her marriage to the king, provides him with the power to rule the land. But following the Norman invasion, she was widowed, effectively dethroned. Whether she is known as Ériu, Róisín Dubh, or Caitlín Ní Uallacháin, successive generations of Irish poets, artists, and activists have venerated this mythical woman whom they identify with the land itself.
Of course Éire or Ériu represented the pagan past of a nation that, long before the Normans arrived, was Christianised by St. Patrick. But, as I show above, that pre-Christian past continued to inspire and influence Irish political and cultural life well into the 20th century.
Perhaps the most important contribution to the continued prominence of Éire was made by the aforementioned Éamon de Valera. As a revolutionary leader prior to 1922, and a political titan during the first five decades of national independence, de Valera shaped Irish society arguably more than any other single individual.
He himself was shaped by two significant influences: his Irishness and his Catholicism.
Although he was born in New York and his father was Spanish, de Valera was brought up in Ireland and spent most of his long life here. He was adamant about where his national loyalties lay.
I have lived among the Irish people and loved them, and loved every blade of grass that grew in this land. I do not care who says or who tries to pretend that I am not Irish. I say that I have been known to be Irish and I have given everything in me to the Irish nation.10
De Valera was also a devout Roman Catholic who attended Mass daily.11 Although he was never able to fulfil his dream of becoming a priest, towards the end of his life he came as close as he could. In September 1975 he was buried wearing the habit of the Carmelite order, the lay branch of which he had joined several years earlier.12
In preparing his Constitution for consideration by the country, de Valera obtained inputs from a number of sources, including barrister John Hearne, and Jesuit priest Edward Cahill. Each produced a draft text, including a preamble summarising the principles that would underpin the new Constitution.
In his draft preamble, Hearne used the terms, “Sovereign Irish People” and “Saorstát Éireann” to denote the nation or state.13 In his text Cahill opted for “the people of Ireland”.14 However the final draft incorporated de Valera’s choice of Éire as the name for the state.
The approved text reads as follows:
In the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be referred,
We, the people of Éire,
Humbly acknowledging all our obligations to our Divine Lord, Jesus Christ, Who sustained our fathers through centuries of trial,
Gratefully remembering their heroic and unremitting struggle to regain the rightful independence of our Nation,
And seeking to promote the common good, with due observance of Prudence, Justice and Charity, so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured, true social order attained, the unity of our country restored, and concord established with other nations,
Do hereby adopt, enact, and give to ourselves this Constitution.15
When he presented the draft Constitution to the Dáil, de Valera outlined the thinking behind this preamble.
It is… from the people that the rulers get, not their authority for ruling, because that authority comes from a higher source, but their immediate designation as rulers.16
That “higher source” was presumably God or “the Most Holy Trinity”. This would reflect the considerable influence of the Roman Catholic Church on the development of the Constitution.17
But could “higher source” also refer to “Éire”?
The reason for de Valera’s choice of name is unknown. In statements he made subsequently he offered several pretty mundane explanations.18 It is unlikely that, as a staunch Catholic, de Valera consciously brought together the two strands of the nation’s history, pagan and Christian, in the preamble.
On the other hand, de Valera was closely associated with Patrick Pearse in the lead up to the 1916 Rising. On several occasions during his political career, he publicly expressed his esteem for James Fintan Lalor. Those connections, plus his deep appreciation of Irish history, must have left him with some knowledge of the etymological or mystical origins of the name Éire, e.g. that in pre-Christian Ireland Ériu was the source of the king’s power.
So we are left with a mystery. In the Irish Constitution, why does the name of a female pagan goddess appear directly beneath a description of God?
Lately I have been reflecting on what I learnt as a child about God. My musings, which you can read here, prompt me to pose a question which may seem strange, even blasphemous.
Is Ériu merely a goddess?
Or is she God?
James Fintan Lalor, “The Faith of a Felon” and other writings, ed. Marta Ramón (Dublin, 2012), p. 106.
Ibid., pp. 106, 136.
Patrick Pearse, The Coming Revolution: The political writings and speeches (Cork, 2012), p. 236.
Patrick Pearse, Collected works: Plays, stories, poems (Dublin 1917), p. 323.
J. P. Bruce, “Ó Riada an cumhachtach, 4/4”, Na Seascaidí, 3 Mar. 2020.[https://www.seascaidi.ie/2020/03/o-riada-cumhachtach-44.html], 13 May 2021.
1 Peter 3:7.
Dermot Keogh & Andrew McCarthy, The making of the Irish constitution 1937 – Bunreacht na hÉireann (Cork, 2007), p. 324.
T. F. O’Rahilly, “On the Origin of the Names Érainn and Ériu”, in Ériu , Vol. 14 (1946), p. 11.
Ibid., pp. 14-8 passim.
Dáil Debates, vol. 50, col. 2514, 2 Mar. 1934 (quoted in Anthony J. Jordan, Éamon de Valera 1882-1975: Irish, Catholic, Visionary (Dublin 2010), p. 11.)
Jordan, Éamon de Valera, p. 16.
Ibid., p. 15.
Gerard Hogan, The Origins of the Irish Constitution, 1928-1941 (Dublin, 2012), p. 172.
Ibid., p. 212.
‘Constitution of Ireland’, Irish Statute Book, Jan. 2020 [http://www.irishstatutebook.ie/eli/cons/en/html], 25 May 2021.
Maurice Moynihan, Speeches and statements by Éamon de Valera 1917-73 (Dublin 1980), p. 305.
Hogan, Origins of the Irish Constitution, pp. 210-13.
Mary E. Daly, ‘The Irish Free State/Éire/Republic of Ireland/Ireland: “A Country by Any Other Name”?’, Journal of British Studies, 46/1, Ja. 2007, pp. 76-7.