Breton: the Inside Story

Breton


   A dance; pachpi (passpied in the French original), a minor dance of mostly eastern central Breton-speaking Brittany, and neighboring French-speaking eastern Brittany.

Breton is the language of western Brittany in France--the enormous peninsula that sticks out under (more or less) southwestern England. Despite some earlier argument that one Breton dialect (Gwened/Vannes) contains a substantial Gaulish element, it's accepted today that Breton was brought from southwestern England in the ?? century as Celtic-speaking Britons fled Anglo-Saxon and Irish invasions. It may be that the incoming Britons possessed a social organization better equipped to the situation there than did the partly-Romanized Gaulish society already in Armorica (Brittany). Whatever the reason, the descendents of the leaders of the immigrants became the kings of a new nation that arose from the wreckage of the Roman Empire, and it spoke the language brought from England.

Brittany was often attacked by the French state in its various forms, but remained independent until the 15th century. At the same time, its capital, Rennes, was in eastern Brittany, an area that was never Breton-speaking, only conquered from the French. The Breton aristocracy was gradually drawn into the prestigious French-speaking world, so that by the time Breton independence was lost, many were French in culture. This meant that--unlike in Ireland and Wales--there was no longer any structural support for secular Breton literature and learning. Breton monasteries were assimilated into the French monastic world, and also ceased to support Breton learning. The upper hierarchies of the Church became French. So almost no older Breton literature survives in Breton; only a handful of short medieval poems. The lais (poem stories) of Marie De France that were so influential in the early Middle Ages derive from Breton stories (many of the proper names are Breton), but they're in French. Some French authors of Arthurian literature also claim that they translate from Breton too, but this is uncertain.

 Quere/Le Menn: a kan ha diskan song for dancing. (That's why people are yelling in the background.)

That left everybody who wasn't a noble or well-off townsman talking away in Breton, singing and telling stories. They kept doing that until probably the 1920s/1930s, when the structures of French society increased their grip on Breton communities. The French have only astonished contempt for any language that isn't standard French, and never tired of telling Bretons and other savages that they were poor, dirty, pathetic cretins because they spoke Breton, Occitan, Alsatian or whatever. Breton children were very regularly punished for speaking Breton in school. (As were the Irish for speaking Irish, the Welsh Welsh, etc.) Though an interesting non-religious Breton literature grew up in the early part of the 20th century, most people only encountered written language through the medium of French.


Then came World War II and the conflagration of French patriotism that was a reaction to the German occupation. Also, in the 1950s, the peasant agriculture of Brittany was disintegrated by the new capital-intensive mechanized fertilizer-intensive agriculture. As a result, the structure of rural communities gradually also disintegrated, as fewer and fewer people could make a living there. Many emigrated to Paris to take menial jobs. French society was already very centralized in Paris, but now, with television, pop music and movies, its culture became inescapable in every community in rural France. More and more daily social interactions occurred in new contexts that were perceived as intrinsically 'modern', and therefore French. The new world spoke French, and anyone not completely at ease in the language was doomed to be a poor, dirty, pathetic cretin forever. The Breton intelligentsia was very weak. The peasant culture was demoralized. The Church turned to French. There was no center of resistance to what was happening.


Parents stopped speaking Breton to their children, in order to equip them to live in the new world, or because they didn't want them to be cretins, or because they wanted to be French or modern. The change happened at different times in different parts of Brittany. In most of Gwened province, it happened in the 1940s. In the areas of Kernow/Cornaouilles  near the sea, and in many parts of Leon province, it occurred in the mid-1950s (or earlier in parts of the southern coast). In the more remote center of Brittany, it happened in about the mid-1960s. In inland Treger province and in nearby parts of Kernow, it happened in the mid 1980s.


There was a cultural revival in the early 1970s as part of the general Western European ethnic and countercultural movement. Breton language, music and became fashionable among some young people. Some of them even learned the language. The Diwan Breton-immersion private schools were founded, mostly in cities and towns. The divide between the new Breton enthusiasts in the cities and the peasants in the countryside, however, was rarely bridged. Many rural communities were still intensely Breton-speaking, but they became less so by the day, as older people who never got used to the idea of speaking French (or who couldn't) died, and younger people who were turning to French, and also their children, raised in French, became a more influential portion of the community.


A reaction occurred, beginning maybe in the 1990s. Parents in some areas demanded that the government permit the formation of elementary school classes taught mostly in Breton, so that children raised in French would learn the and use the language. These classes are very common today. Some communes (parishes/villages) use Breton in signage and on official forms. Thousands of children have passed through the Diwan private school system (all-Breton). There are a fair number of books published in Breton. There's a thriving Breton music scene, and local radio that broadcasts partly in Breton. (There's really no Breton permitted on television, though.) It would be possible to think that Breton is coming back from the brink.


Yet beneath the cultural ferment, older people who were raised in Breton continue to die (logically enough), and communities become more and more solidly French. Brittany is very very firmly integrated into French society and culture. Thirty years ago, Breton was an inescapable fact almost everywhere in Brittany; always there in overheard conversations on the street; in people's faces, in their voices. Now.....


The other problem is that schooling is only the first step in language acquisition and in language revitalization. The experience in Ireland and Wales shows that children can do their education in the minority language, but still never take the language outside of the schoolroom. Many children who learn Breton in school never become effective Breton speakers. Even the Diwan children probably more often speak French--actual French, or Breton so molded by French phonology and syntax that it's almost incomprehensible without a knowledge of French. A recent study shows that almost all of them end up living in other parts of France, or in the two big cities of Brest and Rennes, where Breton-speakers are a tiny tiny minority.


(In the video below, the first girl speaks beautiful Breton of the Gwened dialect--very very unusual for someone so young today. The phonology of the dialect is more close to western peasant French than are the other Breton dialects further west, but I love Gwened, so who cares! On the other hand, the girls in blue speak a 'French' Breton that, to me, is painful to listen to.)



There are areas where there's still a chance.

Mostly that's central Treger province--roughly within a circle going through Lannion east to Treger town, south to Guingamp, then west to Guerlesquin and north to Plistin say, and back to Lannion. The area is strongly Breton, and many people there want to keep Breton going. The areas just south (Calanhel, Bourbriac, Logivy-Plougras, etc, etc. are similar. 

In the whole area centered around Carhaix, Breton is somewhat less strong, but still alive among older generations. Breton may survive in parts of the Bigouden area (the parishes west and northwest of Pont L'Abbe town to the sea, in far southwestern Brittany.) There is the island of Sein. There are some villages between Quimperle and Gourin (Querrien, Lanvenangen, Langonnet).

There are a few small areas in Leon province in the northwest, perhaps; Sizun; farming villages south of St Pol; Plouvien, etc, and maybe Guisseny/Kerlouan in the Pagan area. 

 In Gwened province, there's really only Sant Yann Bubry, Melrand, Quistinid and Languidic, plus some parishes between Languidic and Auray town (Lokoal, Brec'h, etc.)

Here's hoping....

In the meantime, here's what Breton sounds like:

Maurice Prigant is from Plounevez-Moedec west of Gwengamp. He tells a story about a friend of his who was so thin he was nicknamed 'The Sausage'. When he dies of a heart attack, his friends put a sausage in his coffin. St. Peter and a succession of others in Heaven are mystified until they consult with an old nun there. You don't need to know more.








Remi Ar Gallou is from just slightly further north, telling a story about Easter Confession.

A woman from the Kastell-Nevez-ar-Faou (Chateauneuf) area east of  Pleyben in the center of Brittany talks about being in the U.S. during Prohibition. The accent has always sounded American Appalachian to me, somehow.



Below Goulc'han Kervella, founder and director of Strollad ar Vro Pagan (a popular theater group), answers questions about the history of theatre in Breton. He's from Plougerneau on the north coast of the province of Leon, and after about three minutes, once he gets going, you can hear the lilting cadence of that dialect. Below him, a guy from east Leon, the general St Pol de Leon area. You don't have to wait three minutes in this one.







Below, two men from the Bigouden area look at and discuss a low-lying natural area between beach dunes, and farmed land.





If you want to hear more, the Brezhoneg Digor site has lots of tapes of speakers from Central Brittany. Put "Remi ar Gallou" in YouTube and you'll get lots of videos of storytellers from Treger near the Central Brittany "border."

Coming soon: Irish.

Welsh: the Inside Story

WELSH stands alone among the Celtic languages, not linguistically, but in terms of its sociolinguistic situation. It is also the simplest and easiest to learn of the Celtic languages.

Wales was conquered by England in the thirteenth century, but large areas were ruled by powerful English Marcher Lords, rather than directly administered from London. This fact, along with its remoteness from the center of power, and the unimportance of its agricultural, industrial and resource contributions to the developing English state, meant that Wales stayed a different country culturally. The surviving Welsh gentry patronized Welsh bardic poets, the main carriers of Welsh tradition, so that Welsh learning continued to be cultivated.  There was a rich cultural life.

By the late eighteenth century, though, most of the gentry had been assimilated to English society and had lost interest in Welsh. The language might have become simply a despised peasant language, and eventually gone the way of Irish--though Wales was never as deeply colonized as Ireland was--but for two developments.

As in Ireland and the Highlands, some independent scholars and clergymen continued to take an interest in Welsh tradition, providing a loose structure of support for the cultivation of Welsh language and tradition, and thus for the continued existence of a Welsh people. 

The second development was more decisive, though. Many Welsh communities, adrift in this period of social and cultural change when old structures were collapsing, and old meanings seemed inadequate, were ripe for the message of fundamentalist Christianity that was already transforming English agricultural and industrial communities. Society in most areas of Wales was thus rebuilt around small Methodist, Baptist and Independent chapels. Since the Bible was at the center of the fervent religiosity, the ability to read it in Welsh was essential for everyone. Thousands of sermons were preached every Sunday in Welsh, accustoming listeners to complex theological and moral argument. Hundreds of books of theology were published in Welsh. The downside of this was that Welsh folk literature, song and music pretty much ceased to exist.

At the same time, the development of the Glamorgan and Gwent valleys as industrial and mining centers created huge population centers. The chapels, with their sermons, literary and musical competitions, were in many ways at the center of this new society. A literate native Welsh middle class grew up, providing a market for periodicals, newspapers, poetry and prose. Welsh still received very little official recognition, but mostly, it didn't matter--Wales lived its own life outside official structures.





(The man in the video above is from Llanbrynmair in southwest Montgomeryshire. The dialect is a transition between southern and northern dialects. He's discussing local efforts to search for a young girl who was abducted in Machynlleth town. (a very very unusual thing to happen in the area!)

At the same time, Welsh society was an integral part of the flourishing British empire, and it was gradually and inevitably integrated more closely into this. In the world beyond the farm, slate quarry or coal-mining valley, Welsh was but an obstacle to progress; a primitive dialect of no possible use. Welsh cultural vitality was therefore built on an uneasy foundation. Immigrants from neighboring English counties and from Ireland poured into Glamorgan and Gwent looking for work. Such pressures, along with the Great Depression that forced many Welsh out of their close-knit industrial and mining communities, seriously weakened the language in the main population centers, the valleys. Publishing in Welsh began to contract.

By the 1950s,  the valleys had turned to English, Wales had been more closely integrated into English society, and publishing in Welsh had to turn to government subsidies to survive. Most rural communities were still intensely Welsh, but in many places, the new English-medium structures of modern life were replacing Welsh ones, as chapels declined. In the 1960s and 1970s, a youth protest movement centered on Cymdeithas yr Iaith (The Welsh Language Society) through direct action challenged the government to acknowledge the existence of Welsh, and to provide services in it. This tactic was based on the perception that the presence and pressure of English in Welsh communities had increased so much that these communities would gradually be transformed, unless they made a stand.





(A brother and sister, the group Siddi. They're from the Bala area.)

The tactic was successful, in many ways, and it might be said that it woke the Welsh nation. A small renaissance occurred in these decades, with Welsh rock and pop, new popular magazines, television (eventually), a renewal of traditional poetry, and so on. The position of Welsh in education was strengthened. The language was now an asset, and Welsh-speaking young people were assured jobs in education and media. The future was bright.

But 40 years of young people moving away from rural Welsh-speaking communities to go teach in the cities or work for Welsh television has weakened those communities. English second-home-buyers, retirees or downsizers have moved in, buying up houses at prices local people can't match. The  attempt to provide modern music and entertainment and literature in Welsh to match those available in English, a world language, faltered



Above, Dewi Pws from the Cwm Tawe area of west Glamorgan (I think) talks about what living in Welsh means to him. Most of the houses above the beach are owned by English vacationers.

Below a video from the 1960s of the Mari Lwyd tradition in Glamorgan--Llangynwyd, to be specific. The speaker does pretty well speaking Standard Welsh for the interview, but the sonorous slow cadence of Glamorgan Welsh comes through. The dialect is almost extinct now.



Below, children from probably the only school in Dyfed (outside the top of the Amman valley industrial area, Cwmann and Llanllwni) where there is a large majority of children who speak Welsh as their normal language; in the Gwaun Valley, north Pembrokeshire.



Whether because of a collapse of confidence, the delayed impact of the collapse of the older structures of Welsh life (chapels, etc.) in some areas, or because of closer and closer integration into English society, the Welsh language is dying almost everywhere outside of the Northwest (west Gwynedd). Census statistics may still show large numbers of Welsh speakers, and local schools may still be designated as 'Welsh-language, but these facts are misleading.






A singer from Trefdraeth, north Pembrokeshire, where local people have been swamped by wealthy "White Settlers" come from England. The song is about the Little People (Pobl Bach) who decide not to take their money anymore.

More and more Welsh speakers have learned it in school, and rarely use Welsh outside of school. The Estyn individual school inspection reports available on-line provide teachers' estimates on the percent of pupils who speak Welsh at home. The percentage is now below 20% in almost all of Dyfed, Powys and Clwyd, even in areas that recently were strongly Welsh-speaking. 

In all Dyfed, only the Gwaun valley (one school), and the top of the Amman valley industrial area in Carmarthenshire, but bordering Glamorgan, one school in Carmarthenshire near Lampeter, and one other school, have a substantial Welsh majority.

 In all Montgomeryshire, only Llanbrynmair has a Welsh majority. In Denbighshire, only a few communities on the moors (Llansannen, etc.) are Welsh. In Meirionydd, there are now only the communities around Bala, and some near Dolgellau. All Anglesey except the center is now more English the Welsh.

The future appears uncertain.

But still better than Breton, sadly enough.

Cornish and Manx: the Inside Story

MANX is different--really different.

It too was a dialect of Irish, but the Isle of Man was conquered by the Norse (Vikings), who dominated the place. It's been seriously and scholarlyly suggested that Manx developed as a sort of "Baby Irish" spoken by the children of the Norse nobility who married Manx women. Since this group of children of Norse fathers and Gaelic mothers dominated society, its speech became a privileged norm, and as Norse gradually ceased to be used, Manx took over all speech functions on the island, eventually also supplanting the original 'adult' Irish.

What does "Baby Irish" mean? Mostly, the grammar is simplified in strange ways.

To be fair, it's not really Baby Irish, though that is certainly a catchy theory. The Scottish Gaelic of the island of Arran formed a sort of transition from Scottish Gaelic toward Manx, and at least one of the odd aspects of Manx grammar (past tense formed using the verb 'to do' as an auxiliary) particularly characterizes the Welsh of the somewhat nearby island of Anglesey (if I remember correctly). Some other strange aspects of Manx are likely modern developments in a speech community that was dominated by official English; a speech community that lacked a written or spoken standard of its own; lacked a prestigious literature; lacked people cultivating the language.





It doesn't help, though, that Manx is written using a very strange orthography probably based on late medieval Lowland Scots or Northern English. (The Stanleys, a noble Lancashire family were given the island in 1399 and ruled it into the early 18th century.) If it weren't for the orthography, it would be somewhat easy for Irish or Scottish Gaelic speakers to read Manx, and for Manx speakers to read Irish or Scottish Gaelic. It's a shame....


Boayl nagh vel aggle cha vel grayse.
"Where there is no fear there is no grace."
Eshyn nagh gow rish briw erbee t’eh deyrey eh hene.
"He who will acknowledge no judge condemns himself."
Ta bee eeit jarroodit.
"Eaten food is forgotten."
Cha vel fer erbee cha bouyr, as eshyn nagh jean clashtyn.
"There is no man so deaf as he who will not hear."
Gowee bleb rish voylley, as gowee dooinney creeney rish foill.  (criona - wise man?)
"A fool will receive praise, and a rich man will receive blame."
Ta fuill ny s’chee na ushtey.
"Blood is thicker than water."


Except for one ballad about Fionn Mac Cumhail, Manx literature is translations of mostly English religious texts; hymns, and then nineteenth-century folk tales and songs.

The last native speaker (he was raised by his grandparents) died in 1974, but a few people had learned the language from him, and also from other native speakers who died before he did. The Norwegian linguist Marstrander and others had investigated the language when it was more generally spoken early in the 20th century, so Manx is fairly well known. There are once more fluent speakers and an elementary school that teaches in Manx. However, since many speakers don't interact with others daily, and the parents of the children learning the language in school generally don't speak it themselves, it remains to be seen whether Manx will become a spoken language again.

George Broderick has published a number of books in which he collects and edits much of the corpus of 19th and 20th Century Manx. 

Here is a recording of Ned Maddrell, the last native speaker.







CORNISH is the other revived language.

Cornwall was conquered by the Anglo-Saxons in the ninth century, and Cornish communities were assimilated into English society in an ongoing process all through the Middle Ages and Early Modern period. By about 1800, Cornish was no longer a spoken language, even in the far west of Cornwall.

Golsow ty goweth        
2 Byth na borth meth
3 Diyskynn ha powes
4 Ha dhymmo deus nes
5 Mar kodhes dha les
6 Ha dhis a rov mowes
7 Ha fest onan deg
8 Genez mara pleg
1 Listen friend,
2 Do not be shy!
3 Come down and rest
4 and come closer to me
5 if you know what is to your advantage,
6 and I will give you a girl,
7 one who is very beautiful.
8 If you like her,
From an early poem text in Wikipedia's "Early Cornish Texts"


The language was subject of an antiquarian revival in the early 20th-century, but it wasn't until maybe fifteen years or so ago that people got serious about actually learning and speaking Cornish. An added problem is the fact that the language is poorly-attested, in many ways. 





Middle Cornish is much better recorded, as regards vocabulary and syntax, than Late Cornish, though. At least two standards (and the personalities behind them) are currently fighting for dominance in the already small Cornish language community. One standard is based on Middle Cornish, the other on Late Cornish. (A third standard is less clearly based on either.)

The standard that is based on Middle Cornish  recognizes the language's close relationship to Breton, and uses that living language's resources to supplement our understanding of Cornish. Indeed, it's been said that Cornish is really an aberrant fifth dialect of Breton. The two languages used to be mutually intelligible, and the two societies were united by the sea, in a way that Wales and Cornwall apparently were not.





There are native speakers of Cornish once more, but that is really only the very first step in reestablishing a speech network, much less a language community. One problem is that because no one in this century ever heard a native Cornish speaker, new speakers use a very "English" phonology and cadence. Gwenno Saunders,  formerly of the English pop group The Pipettes, is an example of this.




The literature was, until very recently, limited. The older literature is mostly late medieval religious plays.

Why, when Cornwall is mentioned, do many people think of mystery, moors and smoldering romance? It probably goes back to Daphne Du Maurier's romance novels of the 1930s and 1940s, and to the 1970s television series Poldark. Not that Cornwall isn't also mysterious--except maybe all the holiday resorts and so forth--and not that Cornish people cannot smolder with love, (though I have no direct experience of such)....

Scottish Gaelic: the Inside Story



There are six current Celtic languages--barely.


 


















Or maybe not.

For one thing, SCOTTISH GAELIC is really a dialect of Irish.

After the 16th century, the experience of communities in the Scottish Highlands diverged from that of those in Ireland, mostly because those communities were incorporated into two different expanding alien states; England and Scotland. A new standard for writing the spoken Scottish dialect was gradually established, as more and more, links between communities in Ireland and the Highlands were mediated through English society and Scottish society, and through their respective languages. Irish and Scottish Highlanders began to think of themselves as different. The dialects they spoke began to be considered two different languages.




The Scottish Gaelic of the southwestern Highlands (Kintyre, Arran, Islay) is still (where it survives) similar to the Irish formerly spoken in east Ulster, and especially in north County Antrim. This reflects the fact that Ireland and the Highlands formed a spoken dialect continuum in which there were no sudden breaks, only gradual changes as one moved north or south. It is very easy for an Irish-speaker to learn Scottish Gaelic, and vice versa.

Scottish Gaelic is thus an example of an "Ausbau' language; a speech whose existence as a language is based not on its linguistic distance from nearby languages, but only on the fact that it has come to be considered a language--the written expression of a people. Dutch would be another example, or Luxemburgisch--speech communities that are a part of the Germanic speech continuum, but which developed for historical reasons written standards that serve to differentiate them from the surrounding Germanic dialects whose written expression is standard German.

The Highlands didn't experience the deep colonization that Ireland did, so Scottish-Gaelic speaking communities, in many cases, stayed whole into the 19th century and the Clearances. Most parts of the Highlands also became Protestant, and developed a very literate culture. This meant that many books were published in Scottish Gaelic right up to about 1900. (Almost nothing was published in Irish between, say, 1680 and 1900.) All over the Highlands, people became accustomed to following complex theological arguments in sermons every Sunday, and to reading them in books. Highlanders emigrated to Glasgow and other large towns, establishing a rich structure of "Gaelic' organizations there, and something of a Gaelic middle class, at least for a while, until the communities they left behind them in the Highlands failed.

(A woman from the south of Harris ( Outer Hebrides) discusses her upbringing and education.)







Already in the mid-19th century, it had become difficult to earn a living in many Highland communities that had survived the Clearances because landed estates dominated the economy. Land wasn't available to small farmers or peasants, and the only jobs available were 1) wealthy big farmer, 2) farm laborer, 3) shepherd or 4) 'stalker' (hunting guide). 

The culture valued learning and education, and since opportunities at home were so few, many young people left for Glasgow, England, Australia or Canada. The few remaining Highlanders on the mainland generally stopped raising their children in Gaelic after about 1890, and it's only in a handful of areas that Gaelic remains a spoken language at all there--(from south to north) Ardnamurchan, south Moideart (Acharacle etc.); Duirinish, Kintail and Applecross (all opposite Skye); parts of Gairloch and north towards Ullapool town; maybe Culkein in Assynt, and Melness/Tongue in Sutherland. Even there, it's generally only very old people who know the language.

The situation on the islands is a little different. As regards the Inner Hebrides, there's still quite a bit of Gaelic spoke in the west of Islay (Rhinns) by older people; a bit in Lismore; a good bit on Tiree, by older people mostly; a lot in Sleat and in the northeast of Skye. There are older Gaelic-speakers in most of the island communities not mentioned here. There's lots of Gaelic in all the Outer Hebrides, but it may only be in the middle half of South Uist, in parts of North Uist and in Barra that most children are still raised with Gaelic as their first language.

(Update 2024. Well,,,I wrote this originally ten years ago and it reflected the situation ten years before that.  Today, probably only on the small island of Grimsay (population 200) off North Uist is Gaelic still a common community language. It's now very weak in the Rhinns and Skye and Tiree. Small parts of South Uist are probably still the strongest, but even there, people under age 65 don't use it much. Some children are still raised in Gaelic, but assimilate as adolescents into international online/TV pop culture, and abandon it.

Further information is to be found online on Scotland's Census. Look under Language, Ethnic Group, Religion etc, then go to "1930 Parishes, then under Main Language. Also O Giollagain's research and publications.

World is going to hell and no doubt about it.)

(Below is an interview with a woman who works for Ceolas, the summer music school, in South Uist. She's from there.)



Scottish Gaelic has no written literature from before the sixteenth century--what existed is now generally considered 'Irish.' It does have an extraordinarily rich oral literature, elements of which were written down in the eighteenth century (Ossianic ballads generally) and nineteenth century (songs, tales, poetry, etc.). There are many great poets, though fiction has only recently begun to develop. 

And the songs....Incredible! Please go immediately to YouTube and listen to Ishbel MacAskill or Catherine Ann MacPhee or Julie Fowlis. Go to the Tobar a Dualchais site and listen to the old South Uist and Barra singers. Now!

Below is a very short tape and translation of a man from the island of Islay (Inner Hebrides) telling a story.




Here below is a link to a man from Islay telling a story. It's on the Tobar a Dualchais site, which is an incredible treasure house of Scottish Gaelic songs, stories and narratives.

http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/fullrecord/5321/37 (Hit the "Play" button on the left.)

Below is a minister from the island of Lewis (Outer Hebrides) discussing a feud between the people of two neighboring areas. The dialect is very distinctive, and different from all the islands to the south, but has links with mainland dialects of the Ullapool and Assynt areas. (I actually can't find the link, so it's not accessible. Below this, though, is another man from Uig, Lewis, though not with as strong a Lewis dialect.)




An episode of the soap opera Machair, with subtitles.



Here is a link to a story from east Sutherland in the northern Highlands http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/fullrecord/32523/26 (Hit the "Play" button on the left.)

In the 19650s and 1960s, it was discovered that families of itinerant Gaelic-speaking "tinkers" in the Easter Ross/Sutherland areas had incredible stores of  traditional stories, and also song. Here is one, from the old master storyteller, Alec Stewart.








Mystery of the Romantic Bird

So I was walking in the woods the other day, and I heard a bird singing this song despondently in Irish. The bird looked rather medieval, or perhaps Early Modern--it was difficult to say because of the mist. At any rate, I wrote down what he was singing as best I could.

I did have a chance to speak to the bird on another occasion when he admitted that this was not an original composition, but a song he had heard recited to the wire-strung harp in an Irish house 'quite a few years ago, I believe.'

'What were you doing in the house?' I asked the bird, but he then became reticent about the matter.

He was an honest-looking bird, and I tend to believe his story, as far as it goes. Here is a translation of what he sang.


A Bhean Atá Lán Dom Fhuath 


 A bhean ata lan do'm fhuath,
(A Mhic Duach!) ni chuimhin leat
oiche ro bhamair ar-aon,
taobh ar thaobh, agus tu, a bhean.

Woman, you who hate me so much,
by Saint Mac Duach,
do you remember the night
that we were together you and I, side by side?

Da madh cumhain leatsa, a bhean,
an feadh rug a teas do'n ghrein,
do bhi me, la, agus sibh,
ca beag sin da chur a gceill?

 If you remembered, woman,
 that while the sun went down
 that you and I were once...
 but what need do I have to say more?

Do you remember, oh soft palm,
oh slender foot, oh graceful side,
oh red mouth, oh white breast,
that you put your arms around me?

Do you remember, oh dear shape,
the occasion that you told me that God,
who created heaven, had never made a man
dearer to you than I?

I remember that I once had your love,
as now I have your hate:
though I say it myself, oh skin like a flower--
hate goes as far as love.

Though the whole world were to be convinced 
that there was ever a woman who loved some man, 
(something that was never so and never will be so),
don’t let him believe it himself.




The original bird and I met accidentally on another occasion, as well, on which he did not appear any more chipper than the first time. He sang the following song.


Soraidh Slan

A passionate farewell to last night,
for all that it seems so far away now.
Though I were fated to be hung for it,
alas, that tonight is not its beginning.

 There are two inside here tonight
 whose eyes cannot hide their secret;
 though they are not mouth to mouth,
 their eyes flash a message vehement.

Alas, the gossipers won’t allow a word from my lips,
you with quiet eyes;
Understand then the message of my eyes,
you in the corner over there:

“Hold this night for us,
alas that we cannot be here forever;
do not let the morning inside,
get up and force back the day!

 Oh, Blessed Mary, graceful foster mother,
 since you are patron of every poet,
 come to my aid, take my hand,
--a passionate farewell to last night!”









Mist and Pigs

I mentioned last week that an Irish/Scots Gaelic king or lord had serious obligations to his people and was expected to be absolutely just a...