Fun days out: Roman Scotland

I've had an old friend staying since the weekend so we've had some great days out enjoying the scenery. And a fair few museums, since the weather has mostly sucked. I have lots of photos to share over the next few posts, though considering the aforementioned weather there won't be much in the way of beautiful Scottish landscapes...

One of the places we went to was the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow University, which has recently reopened after two years of refurbishment (with much fanfare). There's a lot of new stuff there, mostly pickled limbs and deformed animals of one form or another that were the stuff of legend when I was at uni (then viewable only by appointment, and I was told only those who were studying a relevant field would be allowed). These are a charming and delightful sight for some, I'm sure. Not so much if you have delicate sensibilities, though. Or just aren't feeling too great that day.

The stuff I was hoping to see, though, was the Roman artefacts from the Antonine - something the Hunterian has long been known for. With the reopening of the museum they've concentrated on advertising the Roman stuff, and way back when I was at uni they had a few altars on display at the least, so I wanted to see if it had been expanded and see if there was any Celtic stuff. Not so much new, it turns out, but the new displays do make everything a lot prettier, at least. They've added stuff that reflects how the Romans and the locals got on together, so that's where it gets interesting for me, and that's what I thought I'd start with first in this series of posts.

Most of the aretefacts on display come from the Roman forts along the Antonine Wall and others in the Clyde valley. The Antonine Wall starts in Bo'ness over in the east of Scotland (where I used to live), and cuts across to the west, through the northern outskirts of Glasgow, and it was only occupied for a relatively short period of time before the Romans abandoned it and withdrew back to Hadrian's Wall.

There were forts along the wall at regular intervals, and the soldiers there settled in and established a life for themselves while they were stuck out here in the Roman frontier. They weren't allowed to marry while they were in the army, but that didn't stop them forming relationships with the locals, having kids and attracting some of the locals to set up homesteads right next to the forts and so on. These leather shoes found at the Barr Hill Roman fort show just that - adults and children all in one place:

It's difficult to say just how integrated the Romans were with the local population (who would've been Brythonic speakers), or if the Romans had much of a lasting effect on them. It's also difficult to say how those who did form relationships with the legionaries changed - whether they adopted Roman ways, language, religious practice, that sort of thing. In the bigger picture, there doesn't seem to have been much of a lasting effect in this part of Britain.

Certainly the Romans themselves had some concern about local gods, though, and they approached them in their own religious terms. These altars here are dedicated to 'the Spirit of the Land of Britain' or 'Britannia':

The first altar is dedicated to the goddesses of the parade ground and Britannia, while the second inscription reads: GENIO TERRAE BRITANNICAE M COCCEI FIRMUS 7 LEG II AUG, "To the presiding Spirit of the Land of Britain, Marcus Cocceius Firmus, centurion in the Second Augustan Legion." In essence, the altars and the offerings made on it - milk, oil or wine, usually, poured into the 'dish' at the top - were meant to appease the land that the Romans were occupying, something that the local gods, who looked after their own people, would probably not be too pleased about. Interlopers! These offerings were meant to acknowledge that, and try to form some sort of peace with them.

Marcus Firmus also dedicated four other altars, one of which also mentions the Gaulish goddess Epona:

This inscription reads: MARTI MINERVAE CAMPESTRIBUS HERC(U)L(I) EPONAE VICTORIAE , COCCEI FIRMUS LEG II AUG, "To Mars, Minerva, the Goddesses of the Parade Ground, Hercules, Epona (and) Victory, Marcus Cocceius Firmus, centurion of the Second Augustan Legion." Epona is the only Celtic deity adopted into Roman religion - in general, while local Celtic deities are sometimes mentioned amongst deities on some altars, or syncretised with particular deities, they themselves weren't usually adopted into Roman practice in a wider sense. She was very popular amongst the Roman cavalry.

In some instances, we find locals (or local styles) being depicted. This water nymph from a Roman bathhouse in West Dunbartonshire, for example:

The armlets she's wearing indicate she's Celtic rather than Roman. The folds of her skirt are thought to represent flowing water.

And then there are the locals being thoroughly stomped on:

The hair and beards seem to be very distinctive 'Celtic' features, here are some more local captives (the two figures left and right):

I think that's Victory in the middle, so the whole scene is celebrating a win over the local hoards.

These are some coins minted in 48BC, but found in one of the forts on the Antonine Wall. They're thought to show Gaulish 'barbarians' captured during Julius Caesar's campaigns:

The styles here are very different, so it does seem that the Romans generally tried to show accurate depictions of whoever it was they were trying to subjugate. So it was kind of weird for me, seeing pictures of the past. People from 2,000 years or so ago, who lived pretty close to where I am just now. And kinda cool too.

Stovies

Thinking ahead for Samhainn I've been out in the garden doing what I can to bring in the last of the fruit and veg. In spite of the warmer weather recently it's also been very wet and the larger of the onions have succumbed to the damp and slugs - I was going to pick them last week, but alas, my back didn't allow for that. The remaining carrots and the spring onions have fared a little better, though:

As well as a leek, there. The rest of the leeks could do with a bit longer and should be fine with the colder weather due soon anyway, so I've left those. Of the purple carrots I left in after the first batch of carrots I had for Lùnastal, only one turned out properly purple. Another appeared to be having a slight identity crisis, but the rest just gave up and decided on orange:

They were quite small still, but I figured they probably weren't going to do much else and I might as well pull them.

In honour of the latest haul I decided to put the larger onions to good use and make some stovies, a good stodgy winter dish that's a staple of the Scottish diet, that consists of only three basic ingredients - minced beef, onion, and potato:

Now, yes. Admittedly cat food may look more appetising than this but it's the taste that counts, right? I like lots of black pepper in mine, whereas my husband and the kids like to give theirs a kick with some HP Sauce. I've only ever used beef for them, but mutton is more traditional - harder to get hold of these days, too, though.

I made Brodick bannocks to go with them (I'm finally getting the hang of making them flatter, like they should be - though I think using wholemeal flour helps), to soak up the dregs, and boiled up the carrots. Et voila. Good wintry stodge. I've yet to decide on what I'll be doing for our Samhainn meal, but stovies are always good option, I think.

Now the kids are older and can get a bit more involved in the festivities I'm really looking forward to Samhainn this year. And so are they. The school has a fancy dress parade so they'll be spending the day in costume, and then once they get home it will be time for some fun and games before the guisers start knocking. I'd better start experimenting with the treacle bannocks...

Harvesting

While most of Britain basks in a last gasp heatwave, it's business as usual round these parts. It's a wee bit warmer than usual for this time of year, yes, but no less wet and generally grey. An Cailleachan have been busy battering the coast and the autumnal colours are decidedly dampened on the trees here. Offerings were made to them at the equinox, but otherwise things have been pretty quiet. 

The berry harvest has been good though - we've missed the best of the brambles, I think, but our own blueberries are still going strong. Our old friends, the baby snails, haven't disappointed:

 
But with careful removal of said friends, to avoid any extra accidental protein, we've had a good harvest so far and it's given me an excuse for some of these:

Although the recipe could do with some perfecting. Practice makes perfect, no?

And we've got some raspberries! Of the two bushes I've got in the flowerbed, this is the first year either one of them has put forth much in the way of fruit, and most of them have gone to the wee beasties in the garden, I think. The standard raspberry bush ended up getting crowded out by weeds and bushes that need trimming, I think, but aside from the other bush getting blown over, we have a modest amount of golden raspberries promising:

I've never tried them before, I don't think, though there are a lot of bushes that have spread and gone wild in the village. Rosie and I picked the only two that were good for eating, and Rosie bravely volunteered for a taste test:

It turns out they taste exactly like normal raspberries. They were met with approval.

The warmer weather has been good for the veg I've still got growing - the onions are about ready now, I think, but alas, after our berry harvest on Wednesday I decided to prune down some flowers that were crowding everything else out and that knackered my back again. Not as bad as it has been, but not great, and the onions can wait a while longer until I can walk again. The good news there is, I've at least been reassurred that fibromyalgia is an unlikely diagnosis for me - I just have the bog standard variety of chronic pain. Yay me.

With the pruning out of the way, however, I'll be able to get at my little devotional space I've arranged and set aside in the flower bed. It's been sadly neglected like most other things this year, but it seems something doesn't mind that because I startled a tiny wee frog as I was pruning. Sorry froggy. But I'm glad you found a home here.

Hello Wikipedians!

So I noticed a few hits on the old blog here coming from Wikipedia, of all places, and it seems that there is currently a debate raging over there with regards to rutabaga, of all things. So hello! Thanks for all the support and nice things that are being said.

I have to say, it's a bit weird to find myself being debated on a corner of the internet dedicated to a root vegetable...

While I feel very honoured to have my website referenced on a Wikipedia article, I have to say I'm quite surprised, too, because I wouldn't have thought that it qualifies from what I understand of Wikipedia's rules about what is and isn't suitable for referencing. I do make an effort to write my articles to a decent standard and put references in, but it's not like they're peer reviewed, or anything. Having said that, I do live in Scotland, so I could point out that I am carrying on the tradition and am speaking from experience.

I didn't grow up in Scotland, but my husband did so I've spoken at length with him and my father-in-law about the practice. I can say - for what it's worth - that it's definitely rutabaga that was (and still is) used for carving the lanterns, though here they really are called tumshies, neeps, or just 'turnips'. In supermarkets you'll find them on sale as swedes, but colloquially they are rarely referred to as such in Scotland, as far as I've ever heard.

I can also say that they're an absolute bugger to carve.

Anyway, I've been unable to ascertain for certain how old the tradition is, but like some have been saying on the talk page it's not something that can be said to be particularly 'ancient' or specifically pre-Christian - especially seeing as the tumshie itself only dates from the seventeenth century. So the start of the section on Hallowe'en is incorrect when it says:

Since early times,^[when?] people living in Ireland and Scotland have carved turnips and used them as lanterns to ward off harmful spirits.^[19] They are still popular throughout Britain and Ireland today at Halloween, ^[20]however their use goes back to a much earlier time.
 

This bit here:

The bonfires were replaced with hollowed out turnips (the common name for rutabaga in Ireland, Scotland. and Northern England) filled with glowing coals.

Is also a bit questionable, I think (there's also a full stop after 'Scotland' that should be a comma). The lanterns didn't replace the bonfires; in Scotland, the bonfires have arguably shifted to Guy Fawkes' night on November 5th - see Ronald Hutton's Stations of the Sun. It's true that tumshie lanterns aren't as common as they used to be, though, and most people carve pumpkins these days. Most years you'll find the odd piece in the paper about trying to revive the tumshie. 

I would also say that Samhain is not a Celtic festival, it's a festival that is Irish in origin. Given Scotland's Gaelic heritage, it is also referred to as Samhain (or Samhainn/Samhainn) in Gàidhlig. It's an important distinction that needs to be made, because 'Celtic' is a linguistic term that refers to a variety of languages. It is sometimes used as a cultural term but in this context it implies that Samhain is a festival that is found in all Celtic cultures. This is not the case.

Just my tuppence worth there.

Anyway, another useful reference for you might be F. Marian McNeill's book, Hallowe'en: It's Origin Rites and Ceremonies in the Scottish Tradition. The song on page 33, called A Nicht o' Tine has a verse:

A howkit neep wi' glowerin' een
To fleg baith witch and warlock.

In other words: "A carved turnip with scowling face, to scare both witch and warlock." As far as I can tell the book was published in 1970 or 1971 - there's no date or ISBN number, but it was published by The Albyn Press in Edinburgh.

And one final thing, just to clarify: I am, in fact, a 'her'!

Book Review: Kindling the Celtic Spirit

One more review for now.

Kindling the Celtic Spirit
Mara Freeman

This is a book I bought early on in my first few tentative steps towards Celtic Reconstructionism, and at the time it was one of those fantastically inspiring books that got me very excited. This is the book that helped me see what a non-Wiccan/Wiccanesque style of practice might actually look like, and helped me see that Celtic Reconstructionist practice was actually workable; at the time I found it difficult to wrap my head around what to do because at the time - before the CR FAQ, before even the CR Essay, I think - there really wasn't much out there and I myself had been floundering after leaving Wicca behind and exploring various other paths like ceremonial magic and various forms of Druidry that all have fairly similar ritual approaches.

So I have a soft spot for this book, I really do. Let me be clear though: This is not a Celtic Reconstructionist book, or even written with such an audience in mind. It is written for what you might call a neo-Druid audience in mind, one that's looking for a more historically-minded approach without the Druid Revivalist trappings of Iolo Morganwg and Ross Nichols' dodgy history. It's also geared more towards the solitary practitioner than group practice, and the ritual outlines draw reference from traditional sources rather than neo-pagan ones, but here and there you will certainly find what might be seen as a neo-pagan approach, that don't necessarily agree with a CR approach - invocations to deities, Robert Graves, advocating developing a working relationship with the Good Folk...that sort of thing.

The book is laid out month-by-month, after a few introductory bits and pieces, and each month accommodates a particular focus relevant to the month, season, and related theme of the chapter. Tales and bits of folklore, animal lore, and spotlights on different deities are given in each chapter, and there are meditations to work on (there's also a CD that accompanies the book, with these meditations on it; you have to buy it separately, though, and I didn't so I can't comment on that). The festivals are dealt with as well - the eight festivals of the Wheel of the Year, but with a focus on customs and lore from historical sources - and there are some practical ideas and recipes for things to do for each of them - making a May Bough at Bealltainn, carving turnips at Samhainn, that sort of thing. There are also plenty of prayers, charms, poems, blessings and so on, many of which are adapted from the Carmina Gadelica or early medieval Irish manuscripts.

There is a very hearthy, domestic focus to the book which is something that really appealed to me, and I found the inclusion of practical, creative things to do for the festivals a nice touch as well. The adaptations and prayers are mostly well done, and while the guided meditations aren't really something that appeal to me personally, they're well written and I can see that they might work well for others.

Where it falls down, I think - and it's a problem that I find with most books like this - is that while the focus is mostly on an Irish or a more generally Gaelic practice, Welsh, Brythonic and Gaulish elements are also brought in here and there; an examination of the meaning of 'awen', the stories of Taliesin and Ceridwen, a section on Cernunnos, and so on. There is also the suggestion of a wassail bowl, which couldn't even be considered to be Celtic. All of this smooshing makes it a very hodge podge affair. To me, these are very different and diverse cultures - different languages, different histories - and while they might have the same Celtic roots, they've evolved in very different ways and deserve to be looked at and appreciated on their own terms.

It seems odd to have such a regard for historical practices, detailing folklore and customs from the various cultures, to then completely disregard their context and then mix them all up in a completely ahistorical way. This is rather disappointing, but at least Freeman is (usually) clear where everything comes from, and she's also quite good at referencing her sources. It would be easy to pick bits out that are relevant to one's own focus, but ultimately there's nothing here that comes from particularly esoteric sources and it would be just as easy to go to the source yourself.

It's a well-written, beautifully presented book. Ultimately, though, as inspirational as this book was for me, I'm not sure it's something I would recommend to a CR audience these days. Aside from being potentially confusing for the beginner, there are better sources out there to look to now, far more so than ten or even five years ago, so I think that looking to them instead would be more helpful - do your own research, or look to CR websites or groups that are out there.