Warriors of the Word E-Book

Michael Newton

• Herausgeber: Birlinn
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 986

Beschreibung

Words have always held great power in the Gaelic traditions of the Scottish Highlands: bardic poems bought immortality for their subjects; satires threatened to ruin reputations and cause physical injury; clan sagas recounted family origins and struggles for power; incantations invoked blessings and curses. Even in the present, Gaels strive to counteract centuries of misrepresentation of the Highlands as a backwater of barbarism without a valid story of its own to tell.  Warriors of the Word offers a broad overview of Scottish Highland culture and history, bringing together rare and previously untranslated primary texts from scattered and obscure sources. Poetry, songs, tales, and proverbs, supplemented by the accounts of insiders and travellers, illuminate traditional ways of life, exploring such topics as folklore, music, dance, literature, social organisation, supernatural beliefs, human ecology, ethnic identity, and the role of language. This range of materials allows Scottish Gaeldom to be described on its own terms and to demonstrate its vitality and wealth of renewable cultural resources. This is an essential compendium for scholars, students, and all enthusiasts of Scottish culture.

Leseprobe

Dr Michael Newton earned a PhD in Celtic Studies from the University of Edinburgh in 1998 and was an Assistant Professor in the Celtic Studies department of St Francis Xavier University in Nova Scotia, 2008–2013. He is the editor of Dùthchas nan Gaidheal: Selected Essays of John MacInnes, which won the Saltire Society’s Research Book award of 2006, and the author of Warriors of the Word: The World of the Scottish Highlanders, which was nominated for the 2009 Katharine Briggs Award for folklore research. In 2014 he was given the inaugural Saltire Award by the St Andrews University Scottish Heritage Center (of Laurinburg, North Carolina) for his ‘outstanding contributions to the preservation and interpretation of Scottish history and culture’. In 2018, he was recognised with the International award at the annual Scottish Gaelic awards in Glasgow, Scotland.

WARRIORSOF THE WORD

The World of the Scottish Highlanders

Michael Newton

This edition first published in 2019 by

Birlinn Origin, an imprint of

Birlinn Limited

West Newington House

10 Newington Road

Edinburgh

EH9 1QS

www.birlinn.co.uk

First published by Birlinn Ltd in 2009

Copyright © Michael Newton 2009, 2019

The moral right of Michael Newton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher

ISBN: 978 0 857907 67 7

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Typeset by Geethik, India

Printed and bound by Clays Ltd, Elcograf, S.p.A.

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Notes on Language

Maps

Introduction

Chapter One: Themes in Scottish History

Celtic Beginnings

The Highland–Lowland Divide

The Lords of the Isles

Linn nan Creach and the Stewarts

Jacobites, Hanoverians and Religion

Clearance, Empire and Evangelism

Chapter Two: Identity and Ethnicity

The Invention of Celticism

Territory and Identity

Language and Identity

Ancestries and Genealogies

Inter-ethnic Relations and Perceptions

Chapter Three: Literature and Oral Tradition

Oral and Written

Historical Developments

Professional Poets

Vernacular Oral Tradition

Interpretative Methods

Interpreting Prose Narrative

Interpreting Poetry

Literature and Identity

Chapter Four: Clan Society

Clanship

Leaders and Leadership

The Diverse Bonds of Clanship

Territory and Ownership

Law and Morality

Feasting and Fighting

Cooperation, Obligation, and Reciprocation

Gender Roles

Chapter Five: Family and Personal Life

Names and Naming

Family and Clan Life

Stages of Life

Sustenance

Health and Happiness

Clothing

Chapter Six: Belief Systems and Cosmology

Sacred and Secular in Gaelic History

The Otherworld of the Sìdh

Goddess of Life and Landscape

Cosmology and Social Order

Chapter Seven: Song, Music, and Dance

Song

Musical Instruments

Musical Traditions

Dance

Chapter Eight: Human Ecology

Human-Nature Mirroring

A Sense of Place and Belonging

The Aesthetics of Landscape

Wilderness and Survival

Conclusions

Appendix A: Gaelic Poetry Sampler

  1. Praise of Eòin Dubh MacGregor

  2. ‘I Hate . . .’

  3. Elegy to Sir Dùghall Campbell

  4. Song about the Massacre of Glencoe

  5. Song to Ailean of Moydart

  6. Charm of Lasting Life given to Ailean of Moydart

  7. Praise and Censure of Mashie

  8. ‘It Was In A Dream’

  9. ‘The Branch’

10. A Song to the Big Sheep

11. Dispraise of the Tobacco Pipe

12. Hogmanay Song

13. ‘Overcome the Rogues’

14. Christening Song

Notes

Bibliography

Index

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  1. Pictish carnyx, c. AD 100, found in Deskford, Banffshire.

  2. Hunterston Brooch, c. AD 700.

  3. Brecbennach, the eighth-century portable shrine known in English as the Monymusk reliquary.

  4. Kildalton Cross, Islay.

  5. The figure of a warrior wearing short breeks in the Book of Kells.

  6. An early Christian carved stone with ogham inscribed on its side from Bressay, Shetland.

  7. Chapel dedicated to St Odhran, Iona.

  8. A nineteenth-century depiction of a fourteenth-century engraved graveslab from Iona for Giolla Brighde MacKinnon.

  9. Gravestone found in ruined chapel at Finlaggan, Islay, with inscription to Domhnall Mac Giolla Easpaig, probably from the mid sixteenth century.

10. A graveslab in Keills, Knapdale, probably from the late fifteenth century.

11. The finest surviving early clàrsach, referred to as ‘Queen Mary’s Harp’.

12. A page from the Book of the Dean of Lismore.

13. A baptismal font from Borline, Skye, with an inscription date 1530 naming the probable patron, Iain MacLeod.

14. A crannog in Loch Freuchie near Amulree in Perthshire, at which local tradition sets ‘Laoidh Fhraoich’ (‘The Lay of Fraoch’).

15. The drinking horn used in the inaugural ceremony of the MacLeods of Dunvegan.

16. A nineteenth-century reproduction of the family tree of the Campbells of Glenorchy as drawn in 1635 by George Jamesone

17. An engraved silver brooch owned by a member of the MacNabs who emigrated to Canada.

18. An illustration of Highlanders at the market in Inverness, from Letters from a Gentleman in the North of Scotland by Edmund Burt (1754).

19. A reconstructed thatched house in the Kingussie Folk Museum in Badenoch.

20. An illustration of the inside of a weaver’s cottage in Islay, from A Tour in Scotland and Voyage to the Hebrides in 1772 by Thomas Pennant.

21.Two women work a quern (grinding corn) while a group of women sing a waulking (or ‘fulling’) song as they pound the tweed with their feet, from Pennant (1774).

22. Two women working the quern to grain their corn.

23. The sporran once belonging to Rob Roy MacGregor.

24. The title page of the first anthology of Gaelic poetry, usually called the Eigg Collection, published in 1776 by Raghnall Dubh MacDonald.

25. The title page of the first collection of Gaelic proverbs, published by Donald Macintosh in 1785.

26. An illustration from the title page of Airs and Melodies Peculiar to the Highlands of Scotland and the Isles by Captain Simon Fraser (1816).

27. Portrait of the pioneer folklorist John Francis Campbell of Islay, known in Gaelic as Iain òg Ìle.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have been fortunate to have received the encouragement and support of many friends and colleagues over the years in which I have been collecting and researching Scottish Gaelic matters, too many to name here. It is my hope that this work honours the generosity I have received from innumerable people who have offered me help, hospitality, and encouragement in the conviction that it would be for the greater good.

This volume draws in a number of places on the research I carried out in the course of my doctoral degree in the Celtic department of the University of Edinburgh. I received formal supervision and instruction during my training from Ronald Black, Thomas Owen Clancy, William Gillies, Allan MacDonald, and Roibeard Ó Maolalaigh, as well as informal guidance and inspiration from Margaret Bennett and John MacInnes. To them all I owe an immeasurable debt of thanks. I would also like to thank the Clan Donald Educational and Charitable Trust, the Overseas Research Scholarship, and the Richard Brown Scholarship, whose contributions supported my training.

I also owe thanks to a host of readers who provided comments, corrections, suggestions and information of all sorts on this manuscript, including Hugh Cheape, Rodger Cunningham, John Gibson, Peter Gilmore, Tad Hargrave, Russell Johnston, Allan MacDonald, John MacInnes, Alastair McIntosh, Sharon Paice-MacLeod, Robin Edward Poulton, Barry Shears, and Christopher Thompson. I particularly appreciate the substantial contributions and assistance offered by Iain MacKinnon of Sleat (Iain Dhomhnaill Dhomhnaill Dhomhnaill Nèill Dhomhnaill Iain), Wilson McLeod, and Keith Sanger. Thanks to Susan Johnston for the enormous task of proof-reading the manuscript. Any and all shortcomings are of course my own.

I must acknowledge and thank the libraries whose resources I used in collecting the material which appears in this volume, including the Celtic Collection of the Angus L. Macdonald Library of Saint Francis Xavier University, the National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh University Library, the libraries of the Celtic department and School of Scottish Studies at Edinburgh University, Glasgow University Library, the library of the Celtic department of Glasgow University, Widener Library at Harvard University, the Edinburgh City Library, and the library of Sabhal Mór Ostaig.

Thanks to the Breadalbane Folklore Centre for permission to print photographs of artefacts in their holdings, to the School of Scottish Studies (University of Edinburgh) for permission to reprint the song ‘Sann a’ bhruadar mi raoir’, to Elaine Dunn for permission to reprint the ‘Christening Song’ collected by the late Charles Dunn, and to the Scottish Gaelic Texts Society for permission to reprint William J. Watson’s Gaelic edition of the poem ‘Ríoghacht ghaisgidh oighreacht Eòin’ (poem one of Appendix A).

Thanks also to Andrew Simmons of Birlinn for many vital services necessary for the creation of this volume, not least of which was providing me with several highly useful Birlinn books.

I am grateful, finally, in many ways to my beloved wife Stephanie who provided encouragement, support, advice, love, and patience during the long gestation of this project. Tha mi fada ’nad chomain.

FOREWORD

A personal epiphany played its part in opening up new dimensions for a wider understanding of time and space in Scottish history and culture. For me, this was an insight of such simple, instantaneous and profound significance. On a summer’s evening in 1980, I was walking from the main north-south road in South Uist up to Hogh Mòr, sited as it is on the Atlantic coast. I met a man within sight of the ancient building cluster and we stopped and conversed. In that kindly and naturally curious way of the indweller, he asked me my business, to which I replied that I had come to look at the old structures there and to discover something about the site as a whole. My interlocutor told me that I was standing at a place of great significance, that this was once a place of learning with its churches and chapels and associated buildings, and that this was indeed a medieval university of considerable status. I did not doubt him although I could not immediately envisage the literal meaning of what he was telling me. Having looked at the scatter of ruinous structures and stones enveloped within the big precinct wall, I moved on towards a high dune from which a great deep sound was coming. Until I topped the dune, the sea was invisible but, from that point, a huge vista of murmuring ocean opened. I was overwhelmed by the immensity of the scene and the locus of Uist in a wider world, stretching across the Atlantic of course, but more significantly tied intimately into seaways north – the ‘northern commonwealth’ of the Viking centuries – and south, into Europe and the Mediterranean, and into the streams of culture which fed places of learning and vitality such as Hogh Mòr. Behind me as I stood there, the world of medieval and modern Scotland dropped away into relative insignificance.

The intellectual refreshment afforded by such a ‘change of mind’ is comparable to the material, ideas and interpretation offered by Michael Newton. He is a highly original scholar who has established a well-deserved reputation for himself in Celtic Studies, with a number of excellent books and articles which have put teachers and researchers in his debt. His own diligent and detailed research has ranged widely over history, geography, ethnology, anthropology, sociology and ecology, but returning always with his findings and intuition to the Gaelic language and culture. By putting language at the core of his synthesis, he is adding immeasurably to issues of identity and culture which, in the case of Scottish Gaelic, have invited considerable speculation and hypothesising over the generations but which are doomed to failure without a thorough knowledge of the language itself. This was of course our author’s starting-point and it lends weight to his findings and value to their authenticity and significance.

Warriors of the Word presents us with an insightful account of social and economic life, its cultural and intellectual framework, the practical skills and experience of life and survival, and the dynamic and imperatives of the community, Highland and Hebridean. Language, as the author stresses, is the glue which gives coherence, intelligibility and sustainability to a complex mix. Michael Newton’s detailed exploration of eras, players and episodes draws with it insights into the realpolitik of community leaders, their aspirations, cultural interests and horizons. Behind these lie one or two big issues or distinctive histories whose most significant sources of evidence lie within Gaelic language and literature.

The time that separates us today from the time of Cromwell’s Commonwealth approximates to the era of almost 350 years of predominance of the Lords of the Isles, between 1146 and 1493. The ‘Lordship’ formed a third axis in high medieval power struggles between England and Scotland. This was a remarkable dynasty of rulers in the north and west of Scotland, emerging from (and active in) the weakening and collapsing Viking and Norwegian rule in the Hebrides in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. They consolidated their power following the Wars of Independence in the fourteenth century. Though related to Vikings leaders, they established a kingdom in which Gaelic culture ruled. From their head-house at Finlaggan in Islay, successive Lords controlled vast areas from Ulster to the Butt of Lewis and held them together by control of the sea and innate skills such as we learn from the sea epic, Bìrlinn Chlann Raghnaill. The extent of Lordship power in the Hebrides and claims to large areas of the northern and eastern mainland, particularly in the earldom of Ross, led in time to the kings of Scots removing the Lordship at the end of the fifteenth century. This process tends to be described from a centrist and monarchical point of view which makes the outcome of this clash inevitable. Perceptions of the power and reputation of the Lords of the Isles may be sought within Gaelic sources. A Gaelic charter of 1408 by Donald, Lord of the Isles, is couched in distinctive terms of European kingship: ‘And in order that there may be meaning, force and effect in this grant I give from me, I again bind myself and my heirs for ever under covenant, this to uphold and fulfil . . . to the end of the world’. A traditional saying that the Lords of the Isles possessed half Scotland and a house – taigh is leth Alba – reflects the confident threat presented by the majority shareholder to the status quo.

In the intangible cultural heritage of Scotland, religious belief occupies a firm if presently unfashionable position. Religious belief is strongly characteristic of human nature and religions such as Christianity, Islam and Buddhism have been successful and powerful. Grass-root beliefs and practices, considered to be outside mainstream religion, have also been powerful and compelling, and Gaelic culture manifests these in abundance. Living in the wild places with a strong oral culture keeps beliefs alive and ensures their transmission from generation to generation. The monumental collection of charms and prayers in the Carmina Gadelica shows how distinctively spiritual as well as realistic and practical was keeping faith in the Highlands and Islands.

Christianity came to Scotland about sixteen centuries ago, probably in the closing years of the Roman occupation of Britain. After Ninian built a church at Whithorn, Columba and his fellow missionaries from Ireland settled in Iona about AD 563. Over the next 300 years, Irish and Scottish churchmen moved through Scotland and into England, to Lindisfarne and through the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, and then took their Christianity into Western and Central Europe. The missionary church of Colm Cille thrived on kinship and political links, essentially secular imperatives. It has left a material culture of unique splendour in objects such as the Book of Kells, the Monymusk Reliquary, and standing crosses which were and still are the admiration of the western world. At home, Columba, Latin scholar and Gaelic poet, and patron saint of the Gael, has left a map of devotion in chapels and churches and place-names of native saints.

From the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries, the ‘church’ in the Highlands was part of the European Church of Rome, sharing the lingua franca of Latin. But Gaelic churchmen used their own language to compile manuscripts and treatises and to write down poems and songs and stories of Fionn and the Fianna. This intermixing of the ‘spiritual’ and the ‘worldly’ sustained a rich literature and language, unrealised until caught up in Celtic philology and historical linguistics. A further dimension of the richness of the language emerged when John Francis Campbell of Islay published his collection in the remarkable four volumes of Popular Tales of the West Highlands in 1860–1862, establishing the international significance of Gaelic traditions of prose narrative. The Protestant Reformation of 1560 cut church links with Europe and was followed over the next three hundred years by political efforts to extend the rule of church and state over the Highlands and Islands and destroy their culture.

Warriors of the Word offers a counter-thrust to concepts of the destruction of Gaelic culture or of its irrelevance to a complex and ‘globalised’ culture bestowed on us as members of today’s society. More than this, the work offers a distillation which makes its continuing value clear and explicit. It must be symbolic of Gaelic’s resilience that a term for ‘complex’ is ioma-fhillte or ‘multi-folded’, figuratively representing an abstract in material terms; such imaginative handling is typical of the directness and subtlety of the language. The author breaks the mould of conventional discourse, treats Gaelic culture in its own right and discards the defining and retrospective lenses of Romanticism and ‘Clearance’ and of too-often suffocating accounts of historical and economic determinism.

Hugh Cheape

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

Colaiste Ghàidhlig na h-Alba

An Inid 2009

NOTES ON LANGUAGE

Translation between languages is an inherently complex challenge that usually leaves me with a sense of dissatisfaction: double entendres and deliberate ambiguities in the original require tediously long explanations; words are not discrete units but bundles of associations which seldom correspond to those of words in other languages; phrases carry with them allusions to items in the greater corpus of literature and oral tradition which cannot be carried into translation; the union of sound and sense in one language is inevitably broken when being transformed into another. Nonetheless, I have attempted to provide translations for the readership without a knowledge of Gaelic, rendering the text in modern colloquial English and reordering phrases as necessary, rather than attempting a literal translation that follows too closely to the abstruse style preferred by many other translators. Accordingly, I have chosen to provide translations in chunks rather than common approach of following the Gaelic text line by line.

Gaelic names themselves present complications. Gaelic words and names operate according to their own logic which ideally should be followed in any serious study of Highland society. Unfortunately, anglicised forms of names have become so deeply entrenched that it may seem unreasonably pedantic to many readers to see ‘Mac-Dhomhnaill’ rather than ‘MacDonald’, ‘Caimbeul’ rather than ‘Campbell’, and so on. As a compromise I have attempted to provide first names and epithets in their original Gaelic form but surnames in their anglicised equivalents. Similar problems exist with clan names, such as Clann Domhnaill or Clann Ghriogair. Here again, despite strong reservations, I have generally used the anglicised forms.

This book includes Gaelic texts from both Scotland and Ireland spanning some fourteen centuries. I have attempted to spell Gaelic names and words according to the conventions of the time and place whence they originate. Although there are many names and words that are attested throughout that time span, they are represented differently, depending on whether they have been rendered in Old Gaelic, Classical Gaelic, Modern Irish, or Modern Scottish Gaelic, for example. While it may be jarring for some readers to encounter síd from an eighth-century text next to sìdh from recent Scottish Gaelic oral tradition, differences in orthography are inevitable over such a long period of linguistic development and are respected in this volume.

Gaelic words have been misspelled in many early sources, not least in those texts written by outsiders attempting to render Gaelic sounds with English spelling (a system not even consistent or logical for writing in English). I have frequently corrected the Gaelic words in such sources, placing them in square brackets, for the convenience of modern Gaelic speakers and scholars.

Gaelic terms are set in italics the first time they appear; after being defined, however, they usually reappear in unmarked form. Short phrases, quotations, and the names of songs and tales are usually given in the body of the text in single quotes and given in translation in round brackets; longer quotations and excerpts from literature are given first in Gaelic (marked with italics) and followed by a full translation in English.

MAPS

1. Kingdoms and Important Sites in Scotland in the eighth century AD

2. Lands claimed by Clan Donald from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries

3. Approximate linguistic boundaries in 1500

4. Some Island and District names

INTRODUCTION

When Scottish scholar John Lorne Campbell visited Nova Scotia in 1953, he was amazed to find that in the forests of Canada seventy-eight-year-old Angus MacIsaac kept alive verses from a medieval Gaelic song well after they had been forgotten in Scotland. Here in ‘New Scotland’, where Highlanders first settled in 1773 with little more than their oral traditions to sustain them, MacIsaac chanted a dialogue in verse that recalled the far-off days when Saint Patrick first encountered Ossian,1 the poet of the pagan warriors known as the Fian:

One night Patrick went to the dwelling

Where there was revelry, song and drink

To see Ossian of the Fian,

For he was the most eloquent of them.

(Ossian)

O Cleric who sings the psalms,

You are but a fool to me!

Will you not listen for a while to my tale

Of the Fian, which you’ve never heard?

(Patrick)

I will not idle away my time for your tale

Which I have never heard

While the flavour of the psalms lingers on my lips:

Those are much better for me than your music!

(Ossian)

If your psalms mean so much more to you

Than the Fian of Ireland, bearing naked blades –

I wouldn’t give a second thought

To severing your head from your body!

(Patrick)

Oh, but you are welcome alas for me!

It is for your company I came:

Tell me, what was the hardest fight that the Fian

Ever fought, since you were born?2

The song goes on to describe how the Fian fought off an invasion of Vikings led by the son of the King of the Norse. Campbell, who had already spent decades travelling around Scotland to record Gaelic tradition-bearers, was surprised that such songs could still be heard in the second half of the twentieth century:

I knew of the existence of this ballad, of course, before I met Angus, but he was the only person I ever met who knew any of it, and who sang it. [. . .] Finding this relic of the ancient tradition in Nova Scotia, when no one had been able to sing it to me in Scotland, was a matter of great interest.3

It was not just a matter of survival against time, it was a matter of survival against the authorities themselves. Medieval Gaelic scholars found a way to accommodate pagan lore within Christian society by the creation of such literature as the song-dialogues of Ossian and Patrick, but it was an uneasy relationship that was never entirely resolved. For clergymen such as John Carswell, the author of the first book ever printed in Gaelic, these secular works detracted from the Christian message. His 1567 translation of the Book of Common Order into Classical Gaelic decried those who would rather sing the praises of warriors than the praise of God:

And great is the blindness and darkness of sin and ignorance and of the mind among composers and writers and patrons of Gaelic, in that they prefer and are accustomed to maintain and improve vain, hurtful, lying, worldly tales composed about the Tuatha Dé Danann, and about the sons of Milesius, and about the heroes and Fionn mac Cumhaill with his warriors [the Fian], and about many others whom I do not recount or mention here, with a view to obtaining for themselves vain worldly gain, rather than to write and compose and to preserve the very Word of God and the perfect ways of truth.4

Disapproval of the Ossianic ballads5 followed Highlanders into Nova Scotia when the Rev. James MacGregor immigrated in 1786.6 Despite such condemnations, however, Highlanders continued to identify with Fionn mac Cumhaill and his warrior band as heroes of their culture and even ancestors.7 This was as true in late eighteenth-century Argyll, the stronghold of Highland Protestantism, as it was in Catholic Barra. John Francis Campbell, a pioneer of folklore in the nineteenth century, commented that the Ossianic traditions ‘pervade the whole traditions of the country and are interwoven with each other’.8 Proverbs featuring members of the Fian set standards of behaviour and offered advice on matters profound and mundane. Another nineteenth-century folklorist, John Gregorson Campbell, said that the heroes were so much a part of daily conversation ‘that it became a saying, that if the Fians were twenty-four hours without anyone mentioning them they would rise again’.9

The oral traditions of the land of their birth were valuable possessions to the exiles in Canada, just as they were to Highlanders who had remained in Scotland and fought for the dignity of their language and culture. Songs such as those recalling how the Fian had withstood the scorn of Patrick and the onslaught of the Vikings were vessels which carried cultural identity and the message of self-worth from generation to generation. In the later literary tradition, the Fian became exemplars of heroic ideals, a band of warriors defending the borders of Gaelic Scotland and Ireland against Viking invaders with a seer-warrior, Fionn mac Cumhaill, to guide them, and a poet, Ossian, to record their achievements in verse for posterity.

The songs of the Fian sparked a war of words, and a battle for hearts and minds, that lasted for over a century and still rumbles on in muted form. In 1760 James Macpherson, a young Highlander from Badenoch, anonymously published Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and translated from the Galic or Erse language. Macpherson took certain elements from the Gaelic ballads about the Fian – characters, themes, plot-lines – but reworked them considerably in new forms to meet the aesthetic expectations of his contemporary anglophone audience. Rather than own up to his own hand in these creative adaptations, however, he claimed that the epic poetry in this and several subsequent volumes was a literal translation of the Gaelic verse of the poet Oisean, who Macpherson renamed ‘Ossian’.

Macpherson enjoyed success beyond his wildest dreams: Napoleon carried a copy of Ossian in his breast pocket and commissioned Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres to paint a colossal scene from the epic in his palace; Thomas Jefferson was such a devotee of the ‘bard of the North’ that he wished to learn Gaelic in order to read it in its original form; the poetry and sentiments of Ossian stirred the hearts of young poets across Europe and America, from Wordsworth and Blake to Goethe and Tennyson. Highlanders were glad to be the objects of admiration for a change, even if those familiar with Macpherson’s ‘translations’ had misgivings about his claims.

Sceptics were having none of it, especially in England: Highlanders were already stereotyped as ignorant savages, but the general atmosphere of anti-Scottish prejudice which pervaded England in the eighteenth century soured the reception of anything about which a Scotsman could boast.10 The controversy gained further prominence after the publication of A Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland by the renowned English lexicographer and author Samuel Johnson in 1775. Johnson went to the Western Highlands and Islands to investigate the matter of Ossian first-hand. He concluded that Highlanders did not have a literary tradition in their native language, then commonly called ‘Erse’ rather than ‘Gaelic’:

Of the Earse language, as I understand nothing, I cannot say more than I have been told. It is the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood. After what has been lately talked of Highland Bards, and Highland genius, many will startle when they are told, that the Earse was never a written language; that there is not in the world an Earse manuscript a hundred years old. [. . .] the Bard was a barbarian among barbarians, who, knowing nothing himself, lived with others that knew no more.11

Johnson was factually wrong (as Chapter Three will demonstrate) and insulting to boot; these were fighting words and the literary dispute became a matter of national pride for some Scots. Withering satires of Johnson were composed in Gaelic (only one of which has been edited and translated to date12), and several extensive treatises defended Ossian and Highland literature in general against Johnson’s charges. Such was the confident bombast of Johnson’s words, however, and the authority afforded to him in the annals of British literature, that his appraisal of Ossian as a ‘hoax’ and a ‘fraud’ is still unthinkingly repeated by respectable authors to this day, ignoring the subsequent research of Gaelic scholars who have traced the trails of authentic Highland sources employed by Macpherson in his work.13

Macpherson’s Ossian is not the direct translation he claimed it to be, but neither is it the ‘forgery’ which it is still reported to be by the uninformed. The Ossianic controversy spurred the documentation of Gaelic oral tradition by literate members of Highland society, but it also cast a long shadow of suspicion and cynicism over Gaelic tradition which continues to the present.

The Ossianic legacy offers a compelling metaphor for the history of Gaelic culture. Oral tradition has been a primary vehicle for the sustenance of Highland culture; it has absorbed external influences and influenced foreign literary canons; it has been a site of resistance to cultural imperialism and an entry point of cultural colonisation; it has been a centre of contention over origins, identity, meaning, and significance in which the voices of the Gaels themselves have usually been drowned out by their more assertive and self-assured neighbours.

Storytelling has a special place in human consciousness and culture. The creation and interpretation of stories has enabled humankind to make sense of ourselves and the world around us during the eons of human development. The most natural and effective way for people to understand culture is to represent it in the form of a narrative. Verbal narratives allow us to simulate, manipulate, play with, and ask questions about the basic premises of our culture better than any other media or genre. They allow us to pose questions and dilemmas about our own lives in a safe verbal laboratory. They allow us to coordinate concepts and reimagine possibilities that might otherwise be difficult to actualise. They can help to reaffirm old patterns as well as form new ones.

People live by stories – they use stories to organize and store cultural traditions. Changes in people’s stories not only reflect changes in cultural reality; they can actually create them. That is why politicians are traditionally said to distrust poets. A story or poem or song allows ordinary people – the traditional ‘Everyman’ – to see things anew, even to detect and avoid cultural traps. With stories and poems, people can work cultural changes in areas that they cannot even think about except as stories.14

The world is shaped and governed by narratives: government ministries create stories that justify political policies and economic decisions by reference to the biography of the nation; educational authorities create stories about the past, about what we are supposed to value in the present, and about what we are supposed to expect in the future (in a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy); industry creates stories about wealth, value, progress and the individual. But who is in charge of creating the stories? Whose purposes do they serve? What stories are not being told? For too long Scottish Highlanders have been ill-served by the stories told to them and about them but have lacked the institutions to become the authors of their own narrative.

During the medieval period, Gaelic culture flourished in Scotland and enjoyed significant intellectual, cultural, social, material, musical, and artistic achievements. Scottish Gaeldom was closely connected to Ireland and Lowland Scotland, exporting and importing new ideas, but maintained a high degree of independence and distinctiveness. While Gaels sometimes make stereotyped cameo appearances in books about Scotland or Scottish subjects – as early founders of Scotland, ‘wild, wicked Highlanders’ causing mayhem in the Lowlands, or ‘ill-fated’ Jacobite ‘rebels’ – surprisingly few volumes attempt any sustained examination of their culture and historical experience from their own point of view.

This book has stories at its core: although I offer interpretations and analyses of many aspects of Scottish Gaelic culture, I have endeavoured to allow oral traditions – stories, songs, and proverbs – to be star witnesses to their own realities. I begin every chapter with a brief story that illustrates some key points discussed in the chapter, and I offer an anthology of Scottish Gaelic poetry at the end of this volume. I have made liberal use of the most recent and insightful research in Scottish Gaelic studies, little of which is easily accessible to the general public, in order to synthesise a broad overview of Scottish Gaelic culture. I hope that my modest efforts can help to bridge the chasm that yawns between academic discourse and the wider world.

This is not primarily a history book. Although out of necessity it contains enough historical material to put the rest of its contents into context, it is more concerned with the biases of previous generations of historians than with the minutia of historical facts whose interpretations are being rapidly transformed by a new wave of scholarship in any case. Nor is this book primarily concerned with archaeology, agriculture, economic means of production, or other forms of material culture of which there were many regional variations across Gaeldom, although I draw upon certain aspects of these topics where appropriate.

This book is primarily about the mental and social world of the Gaels, focusing especially on the period when independent clans held sway in the Highlands, from the twelfth century to the eighteenth. Even when the social institutions of clan life had been made forfeit by the central government, the values and mores of clan society – especially as encoded in and transmitted by oral tradition – have continued to inform the inner life of Gaelic culture. These cultural resources still hold promise for those who are willing to reclaim them as their own and retell them to succeeding generations.

Chapter One

THEMES IN SCOTTISH HISTORY

It is certainly a legitimate function of history to produce, as the cliché goes, a usable past. But there is a danger in our obsession with mapping out the routes to the present, because in doing so, we slice off all that is not ‘relevant’ and thus distort the past. We eliminate its strangeness. We eliminate, most of all, its possibilities. History should do more than validate the inevitability of the present.

– Richard White, ‘Other Wests’1

During their heyday in the ninth and tenth centuries, the Norse enjoyed military and political supremacy along the coastal areas of much of western Europe; they unsettled the existing political order, imposed their own leaders and developed their own settlements. Yet, in most locales, within a few generations they were beginning to lose their dominance and Gaelic culture proved resilient enough to assimilate the would-be conquerers. By the late medieval period, the Gaels of the west of Scotland, most of whom had a mixture of Norse and Gaelic ancestors, were recounting legends of how Gaelic warriors such as Somerled had liberated their lands from Viking usurpers. The alienation of Highlanders from their own Scandinavian ancestry once they had become Gaelicised is one of the many ironies of history that alert us to the dangers of assuming that ethnic identity reflects ‘racial’ origin.

Gaeldom’s comeback is celebrated in tales such as the following legend from Argyll. Like many local legends, it explains the origin of a significant place name, which adds a sense of historical weight and veracity to the tale. The place name Gleann Domhainn (‘Deep Glen’) may symbolise how Gaeldom withdrew after the Viking attacks to inland sanctuary until it regained strength. Despite several generations of dominance in the west, the narrative implies that the only legacy left by the Norse is a series of place names signifying their defeat.2

The Norse once made a sudden descent from their ships on the lower end of Craignish. The inhabitants, taken by surprise, fled in terror to the upper end of the district and didn’t stop until they reached Slugan (‘the Gorge’) in Gleann Domhainn.

Once there, they rallied under a brave young man who took their leadership and slew the leader of the invading Norse with a spear. This inspired the Craignish men with such courage that they soon drove back the disheartened Norse across Barr Breac river. As they retreated they carried off the body of their fallen leader Olav (Amhladhin Gaelic) and buried it on a place on Barr Breac farm which is still called Dùnan Amhlaidh (‘Olav’s Mound’). The Craignish men also raised a cairn at Slugan to mark the spot where Olav was slain.

The old adage ‘History is written by the winners’ acknowledges that people experience events differently, according to their own perspectives and circumstances, and that the writing of history has frequently favoured one party to the detriment of others. The labels used for political movements, factions and players often betray biases: whether a person has been represented as a rebel or a hero has been determined not so much by the deeds he has done as whether or not his story was written by someone sympathetic to his cause.

The writing of history is inevitably a matter of interpretation: not all of the innumerable people and actions over a space of time can be accounted for, so the scholar must decide which factors are most responsible for the outcomes of social processes and how people are affected by the results. He must decide whose story to tell and how to tell it.

The story told about the Highlands has long been dominated by the assumption that the region has always been an isolated and remote backwater, and by a negative appraisal of the Gaels themselves as a people. Both of these biases have served to marginalise the Gaels in the writing of Scottish history. Documents portraying Highlanders as primitives naturally inclined to resist the rule of law and principles of progress have often been taken at face value. The perspectives of the Highlanders themselves have been too easily ignored, especially when pitted against those of others assumed to be more ‘civilised’. The author of the Sleat history of the MacDonalds complained in the mid seventeenth century about the anti-Gaelic prejudices which distorted the way in which Scottish history was written in the Lowlands:

These partial pickers of Scotish chronology and history never spoke a favourable word of the Highlanders, much less of the Islanders and Macdonalds, whose great power and fortune the rest of the nobility envied [. . .] he relates that such and such kings went to suppress rebellion here and there, but makes no mention of the causes and pretences for these rebellions. [. . .] Although the Macdonalds might be as guilty as any others, yet they never could expect common justice to be done them by a Lowland writer.3

When Gaelic folklorist J. G. Mackay addressed the Glasgow Highland Association in 1882, he observed that ‘to many Highlanders the extraordinary antipathy and determined antagonism with which they have been treated by pragmatical historians has long been a most unaccountable mystery’. While historians made an effort to understand the motives, circumstances and affiliations of English and Lowland subjects, ‘the Highlander could have no such sentiments, he could only be activated by his love of plunder and bloodshed’.4 Even near the end of the twentieth century, the accomplished scholar John Lorne Campbell, who spent his life recording and publishing Gaelic materials of all kinds, remarked that Highlanders were still grossly misrepresented in historical scholarship:

Unless a historian possesses some knowledge of the Gaelic language and its written and oral literature, and has the insights that that knowledge bestows, it is very difficult not to be borne down by the accumulating weight of official assertions and propaganda, and arrive at the mental state of accepting them without question. [. . .] Far too long have the Scottish Gaels been treated by historians as non-persons with no legitimate point of view.5

We can better understand a society when we have examined the forces, events, and agents that have influenced its experiences and development. This chapter attempts to provide a summary of the history of Scottish Gaeldom: the people and events which provide the subjects and topics of Highland literature; the circumstances and trends which have influenced the forms and functions of its culture; the conditions and constraints which have affected the allegiances and political decisions of Highland leaders; the factors that have influenced the living conditions, social institutions and roles of the generality of Highlanders. This outline is intended to provide a context for specific aspects of Gaelic culture explored in depth in following chapters.

CELTIC BEGINNINGS

The term ‘Celtic’ has become popularly associated with particular people, places, art styles, musical styles, and so on. There are many difficulties with using the term ‘Celtic’ in these imprecise ways, however; scholars use it to refer to a family of languages belonging to the greater Indo-European family. Celtic languages are ultimately related, albeit at several removes, to other languages familiar to us in Europe and Asia, such as French, Italian, Hindi, and Persian.

In theory, the many Celtic languages (and their associated cultures) are derived in some way from a Celtic parent. The relationships between ‘parent’ and ‘child’ cultures, however, are complex and prevent us from making simplistic assumptions about a unified Celtic culture existing anywhere at any time. Earlier generations of scholars, living during an imperial epoch, assumed that the spread of Celtic languages and cultures could only be explained by an invasion of Celtic-speaking people who conquered new lands because of superior technology. The newer paradigm of Celticity instead proposes a long period of cultural development beginning in the late Bronze Age, from 1200 to 700 BC, driven by the influence of trade and networks of a Celticspeaking élite.6 The diffusion of Celtic languages and cultures happened in such a loose way (rather than being imposed by a centralised state from a prescribed standard) that we cannot speak of a single Celtic people, way of life, or identity, but rather a family of inter-related languages and cultures. ‘Celtic’, then, is an abstraction of convenience for a set of features which are found in concrete form in specific times and places, even though not all ‘Celtic’ tribes shared all of the same characteristics.

Figure 1.1: Two models of Indo-European language families

Although we get different kinds of evidence from archaeology, place names, inscriptions, and historical sources, it is safe to say that for several centuries before the birth of Christ Celtic-speaking peoples were living across a large section of Europe.

Originally they extended in a broad swath from south-western Iberia, through Gaul and the Alpine region, into the Middle Danube, and one group of settlers, the Galatians, introduced Celtic into central Asia Minor.7

Britain and Ireland were occupied by Celtic-speaking peoples at the dawn of recorded history and had been for some time. This conclusion is confirmed primarily by personal names, tribal names, and place names recorded in early documents and by the testimony of early Classical authors. Archaeological evidence also allows us to interpret some features of surviving material culture – houses, forts, burials, clothing, artistic styles, etc. – in relation to other cultures classified under the rubric ‘Celtic’.

Pytheas, a Greek writing as early as 325 BC, referred to the ‘Pretanic Isles’; the Romans referred to the island as ‘Britannia’. These territorial names are based on the Celtic tribal name Britanni. An earlier and purely territorial name for the island, *Albiu, survives to the present day in Gaelic in the form Alba. In the second century AD the Greek geographer Ptolemy preserved a list of the names of Celtic tribes in various parts of Britain and Ireland. Some tribal names recur in several parts of the Celtic world: there are ‘Brigantes’ in eastern Ireland and northern England; ‘Parisi’ in eastern Yorkshire and ‘Parisii’ in France. Similarly, there was a ‘Cornavii’ in Caithness and a ‘Cornovii’ in the English mid-lands, a ‘Damnonii’ in the Clyde valley and a ‘Dumnonii’ in Cornwall.8 It is not clear if these were branches of the same tribe that migrated to different areas, or simply names based on similar origin legends or mythological founders.

The Insular Celtic languages (those spoken in Britain and Ireland) are generally classified as P-Celtic (or Brythonic) and Q-Celtic (or Goidelic) because of how the ‘Q’ consonant inherited from the theoretical linguistic ancestor, Proto-Celtic, evolved in two descending branches: it was simplified as a hard ‘c’ consonant in Goidelic languages, while in Brythonic languages it became a ‘p’ consonant. There were speakers of both branches of Celtic on both islands (as the tribal names above suggest) during the late Iron Age, but on the whole most of Ireland was Goidelic and most of Britain was Brythonic.

Roman troops under Claudius invaded the south of Britain in AD 43 and after consolidating their victories, Gnaeus Julius Agricola, Roman governor of Britain, moved armies north to invade Scotland in AD 79. His ability to march as far as the Tay suggests that he had already formed relationships with the tribes of southern Scotland before the campaign. The Romans were expert at military strategies such as proxy warfare and servitor imperialism: it was common for them to form pacts and client relationships with native tribes (and displaced élite) along the frontier at each stage of territorial expansion to make subjugation easier.

Lasting military conquest and occupation in Scotland, however, proved elusive for the Romans: several strings of forts were built to control territory and assert authority, but by AD 165 the army had withdrawn to Hadrian’s Wall. Such was the ability of the northern tribes to harass the Roman forces that they bribed the Maeatae (a tribe that occupied the area around modern Stirlingshire) in exchange for a cessation of hostility and the release of prisoners. The Romans were under attack by a broad ‘barbarian conspiracy’ in the fourth century which they were never able to contain. Problems within the empire itself precipitated the collapse of its occupation of Britain in the early fifth century; by AD 410 the forces at Hadrian’s Wall were dispersed.9

Despite the inability of the Roman Empire to control and assimilate the Celtic tribes of Scotland, particularly north of the Antonine Wall, the Roman presence had significant consequences. South of the Forth–Clyde line tribes such as the Votadini (later known as the ‘Gododdin’) who aligned themselves with the Romans were able to flourish while others collapsed. Direct Roman influence was considerable in the ‘buffer zone’, not least because it brought Christianity to the Brythonic peoples perhaps as early as AD 200. Continued connections between the Brythonic peoples of the Lothians, Cumbria and Wales seem to have been encouraged by Roman leaders.10

Figure 1.2: Family tree of Insular Celtic languages with stages of Goidelic11

The Celtic tribes north of Hadrian’s Wall coalesced into ever larger political federations, at least in part as a way to counter the Roman threat. These peoples, commonly referred to as ‘Picts’, seem to have united under a single king in the late seventh century. The term ‘Pict’ was first recorded by the Romans in AD 297; we aren’t certain if this was a Roman nickname for the non-Romanised northern tribes or if it corresponded to a name they used for themselves. The Picts were long assumed to be a shadowy and mysterious people about whom little could be known, but more recent research argues convincingly that they are P-Celts, that is, another kind of Brythonic-speaking people. They probably called themselves ‘Priteni’ in their own language; they are called ‘Prydyn’ by the Welsh and ‘Cruithne’ by the Gaels, all which correspond to the early ethnonym ‘Britanni’. During the reign of Caustantín, king of the Picts (862–76), the list of Pictish kings was extended back in time to begin with ‘Cruithne’, the mythical founder who gave his name to the people.12

The personal names, tribal names and place names of the Picts confirm that they spoke a P-Celtic language. The names of rivers and lochs are usually the oldest names in any country, surviving changes of language and population, and many river and loch names in the ancient ‘Pictish heartland’, such as the Tay, the Dee, and the Lossie, are definitely Celtic. A number of place-name elements, such as aber, perth, tref, mynydd and cardden, occur in Pictland as well as other parts of Britain, showing it to be part of a continuum of Brythonic speech.13 The second elements of place names which begin with aber- ‘river confluence’ have Celtic roots with close correspondences in Gaelic: Aberbervie ‘the boiling water’ (Gaelic berb), Aberbothrie ‘the deaf (silent) one’ (Gaelic bodar), and so on.14 The personal names of Picts which appear in Roman and early Christian sources are clearly Celtic: Agricola mentions Calgacus ‘the Swordsman’ and Dio Cassius mentions Argentocoxos ‘Silver Leg’. Claims that the Picts practised matrilineal kingship have been discredited by recent scholarship; their inheritance patterns appear essentially the same as those of their neighbours.15

Roman writers used the ethnonym ‘Scotti’ to refer to the Gaels as an ethnic group, regardless of whether they lived in Ireland or Britain.16 According to Roman sources, Scotti and Picti acted in concert in attacking the Brythonic kingdoms in the south of Scotland and the Romans themselves as early as the third century. The Gaelic kingdom of Dál Riata emerged in the sixth century, joining a dynasty in Antrim to Gaelic settlements in Argyll. A tradition recorded in the tenth century claimed that Fergus mac Erc and his sons were the first Gaels to settle in Scotland after leaving Ireland c.AD 500, ruling a Gaelic population which was divided into three tribal territories: the Cenél nOengusa in Islay, the Cenél nGabráin in Kintyre, Gigha, Jura, Arran, and Cowal, and the Cenél Loairn in Lorn, Mull, Tiree, Coll and Ardnamurchan. Until recently this legend of Gaelic origins in Scotland has been taken by most historians as literal truth.

There is cause to doubt the claim that Gaelic only arrived in Scotland with these Irish colonists at this time, however; it is more likely that Gaels had been in Argyll for a considerable time longer. The chain of islands in Argyll form an archipelago between Scotland and Ireland; the modern political boundaries that we impose around Scotland and Ireland now were probably insignificant then and no serious obstacle to travel. The archaeological evidence argues for a continuity of material culture in Argyll before and after Dál Riata, and no evidence of typically ‘Irish’ features suddenly appearing in the archaeological record. The legend of this late colonisation may have been promoted later in order to allow the Gaels of Scotland to share in the high cultural achievements of Ireland in the early medieval period and help to legitimate the Cenél nGabráin’s rise to power.17

During the centuries of Gaelic–Pictish interaction, ‘bilingualism’ of the two varieties of Celtic languages must have been the norm, with a gradual shift from Pictish to Gaelic. Place names provide evidence for this linguistic transition. The Pictish element aber- was translated to Gaelic inbhear- in a number of place names and some place names in Scotland which were coined by Picts were translated (or transliterated) into Gaelic. Some Pictish terms borrowed into Gaelic demonstrate that distinctive administrative concepts from Pictish culture survived the linguistic shift. Ogham (an early script for writing on stones) inscriptions in Pictish territory record names which seem to become increasingly Gaelic.18 Gaelic, as it is spoken in Scotland, bears the influences of the masses of Pictish speakers who learnt it as a second language.19

The capital of Scottish Dál Riata was Dunadd. Far from being a remote outpost in a backwater, excavations have shown it to be at the hub of an international trading route bringing luxury items from France and the Mediterranean. The peak of Dunadd, where its kings were inaugurated, commands an impressive view of a landscape rich in prehistoric monuments, emphasing the dynasty’s roots in an ancient and glorious past. Gaelic, Pictish, and Anglo-Saxon nobility and their artisans mingled at Dunadd, making it one of the primary crucibles for the creation of the ‘Insular’ art style (see Plate 2).20

Colm Cille, better known as ‘Columba’ from the Latin form of his name, was a member of the most powerful kindred then in Ireland, the Uí Néill; his noble origins allowed him to play a powerful role in the church and in secular society. Columba and a group of his followers left northern Ireland and settled on the island of Iona in the 540s. Iona’s location allowed access to Gaelic, Pictish, and Brythonic kingdoms; indeed, the clerics of Iona were to play prominent religious and political roles throughout the British Isles and beyond in the next several centuries. According to his biographer Adomnán, Columba presided over the inauguration of Aedán mac Gabráin, king of Dál Riata, in 574. If this claim is true and not just church propaganda, it would be the first Christian ordination of a king in Europe. In any case, it indicates an early recognition of the ties between religious and secular authority. Aedán’s intention may have been to create ties to Columba’s kindred in Ireland; Adomnán, on the other hand, was promoting the ideals of Christian kingship and the right of the church to be involved in the affairs of state. While there were many other missionaries in Scotland during the Age of the Saints, few were as influential as Columba and his successors. The figure of Columba continued to play a role in the inauguration of Scottish kings until the thirteenth century.21

Christianity deliberately sought to disenfranchise druids and defeat paganism, collaborating with political leaders to do so. Druidism as a religious institution was defunct in Ireland by the ninth century and not long afterwards in Scotland.22 Christianity inevitably took on features of local culture and local scholars deliberately elevated the status of native learning and history to that of the Classical world. At the level of the common folk, the Celtic saints were a vital link between the old faith (paganism) and the new (Christianity). Some of the oldest surviving folklore in Gaelic oral tradition concerns the activities of the saints; the biographies of saints contain ample evidence of the affirmation of the power of Christianity by recourse to native Celtic beliefs and values. The cults of saints took over the sanctity and traditions of pre-Christian sites all around Scotland.

The development of secular society and the consolidation of political power in Scotland was heavily dependent upon the Christian church. As the intellectual heir of the Roman Empire and Classical learning, it provided learned professionals with the administrative and literary skills needed to build and run a sophisticated kingdom. Adomnán himself was a paragon of scholarly achievement: he and his disciples composed reference works that remained influential in Europe throughout the Middle Ages, including Vitae Columbae (the Life of Columba), De Locis Sanctis (a guide to Jerusalem), and Collectio Canonum Hibernensis (a collection of church laws). He also created the world’s first international human rights treaty, Cáin Adamnáin (also known as ‘The Law of Innocents’), which protected women, children and clergy from the ravages of warfare. It was ratified in 697 by over fifty Irish kings, the kings of the Picts, the king of Dál Riata, and the king of the Strathclyde Britons. This attests to the growing role of the Columban church in political affairs and its extensive territorial reach. Monks from Iona and other Gaelic centres of learning went even further afield, taking up positions in the courts of Charlemagne and other European rulers.

Dál Riata was not the only Scottish kingdom that Columba and his followers transformed: from the late seventh century, the Columban church played a central role in the efforts of the rulers of the Pictish kingdom of Fortriu to create a single, unified Pictish dynasty. The penetration of Gaels into the upper echelons of political and religious institutions accelerated the Gaelicisation of the Picts. Abernethy, probably the episcopal centre of the Pictish kings, was dedicated to St Brigit. Atholl, the power base of the Pictish kingdom, seems to have been teeming with Irish churchmen by the early eighth century; it contains an early concentration of Gaelic church names and stone sculpture of Ionan style. The Gaelic name for Atholl, Ath-Fhodla ‘New Ireland’, was recorded in 739.23 The fact that some 90 per cent of compound place names beginning with the Pictish element pit- ‘parcel; estate’ end in a Gaelic name or word suggests that Gaels became the élite in former Pictish territory and dominated land-holding.24

Pictish, Brythonic and Dál Riatic dynasties became entangled at an early stage: the ‘Pictish’ king Gartnait of the late sixth century may have been a Gael; three Britons from the kingdom of Strathclyde held the Pictish kingship between 631 and 653; by the eighth century many Pictish kings had Gaelic names and held Pictish and Dál Riatic kingships at the same time.25

Surviving annals first record the raids of the Vikings on exposed coastal monasteries and settlements in the 790s, although the Norse may have attacked northern parts of Scotland even earlier.26 Continued Viking assaults across the British Isles brought about social turmoil and an almost complete reconfiguration of political structures. The kingdoms of Dál Riata and Northumbria collapsed in the chaotic conditions of the ninth century; the Picts of the far north seem to have been completely overrun and conquered by Norse invaders. The inland Pictish kingdom of Fortriu was exceptional in being relatively unscathed by Viking aggression.27

The kings of Gaelic Dál Riata and Pictish Fortriu joined forces in a massive battle against the Vikings in 839. They and their followers were defeated by the Norse and slaughtered in great numbers. During the ensuing civil war, a Gaelic warrior from the west, Cinaed mac Ailpín (‘Kenneth MacAlpine’ in English), seized the Pictish kingship c.AD 842 (he may have ruled Dál Riata for two years before that).28 With Dál Riata beleaguered by the Vikings, Gaelic interests turned inland and eastward, away from the Norse threat. Cinaed transferred holy relics associated with Columba from Iona to Dunkeld, an ancient stronghold of the Picts; this act confirmed his territorial claims to Pictland and his commitment to the Columban church. Cinaed chose as his royal palace Forteviot, a location with the most impressive landscape of prehistoric monuments in eastern Scotland. This further signified his control of locations symbolic of Pictish sovereignty and his desire to be associated with the deep past of Pictland.29

Folkloric elements took the place of factual details as the Picts were Gaelicised and receded into the historical horizon.30 The Irish tale ‘Braflang Scóine’ records that Cinaed mac Ailpín slaughtered the Pictish nobility during a banquet to which he invited them, but this is a retelling of a legend first recorded by Herodotus in the fifth century BC and reused in many later stories about peoples who were conquered and assimilated.31