Many are chosen (few are Pict)

Arf.

I've had a busy few days and about 600 pictures to show for it, which I've spent the whole morning uploading and then sifting through, some of which I'll be posting here (you've been warned!). I went on an outing to St Andrews over on the east coast yesterday and had a great time, not least because I got to see lots of Pictish stuff. Which was kinda handy, because the day before I went to a conference on the Picts, so it was all very topical.

The conference was really interesting (I feel very intellectual now) and although there wasn't really much on pre-Christian Pictish religion there were some good tidbits to chew on. Of particular interest was the mention of the Rhynie Man stone, which shows a man carrying a special kind of axe that had a hammer on one end and which would have been used to stun cattle or oxen before they were killed or sacrificed. If you look closely at the picture you'll see the man has what appears to be a tonsure, and while it's impossible to say for sure, it does seem to gel with what we know of "druidic" tonsures (that wasn't really touched on at the conference, but I thought I'd mention it anyway). What was mentioned was that an iron pin (which wouldn't have been functional, given the fact that it was made of iron, and therefore suggesting it was purely votive) has been found, shaped like the axe hammer, and there are the same kind of axes found on stone monuments elsewhere.

Another paper looked at the issue of Pictish language and especially Kenneth Jackson's suggestion that they spoke a pre-Indo-European language and a Gallo-Brittonic language. While it's an idea that's often repeated (even today), Jackson himself wasn't exactly confident in his arguments and he later abandoned the theory in favour of accepting that Pictish was either a Brythonic dialect, or Brythonic-derived language, which academics like Whitley Stoke and W.J. Watson had long argued in favour of. It was argued that Jackson's ideas weren't really based on linguistic evidence, as Stokes, Watson and others had drawn their conclusions from, but were instead primarily influenced by archaeological theories of the time – that evidence of a new material culture is indicative of a new people (i.e. therefore the arrival of Celtic culture in Britain = a Celtic invasion), hence the suggestion of a pre-Indo-European language from the Bronze people as well as a Celtic one from continental invaders of the Halstatt and later La Tene periods.

One of the final papers of the day had some interesting stuff on the influence of Pictish art on insular art by way of a technique called interpenetration (pretty much any academic terminology ends up sounding rude, doesn't it?), especially in relation to the Book of Kells. I'll just link to a summary of the paper as it's been given elsewhere, because I got to see one of the examples referred to at St. Andrews Cathedral the next day. So that leads nicely onto PHOTOS.

The example in question is the St. Andrews Sarcophagus:

The information panel describes is as a "royal burial shrine" that dates to the late eighth century, so we're firmly in Pictish territory here. It's a pretty fine example of Pictish sculpture and I'll give you some close ups of it, although because of the lighting the quality isn't as good as I'd like – I've tried to tweak them for clarity as much as I can. So here's a close up of the panel you can see above, which has examples of the "interpenetration" mentioned at the conference:

Interpenetration is when one artistic motif flows seamlessly into another. On this panel, if you look closely you'll see that the sculptor has "fretwork" flowing into "interlace" and then back again. I think if you look at the bottom part of the equal-armed cross (i.e. to the left of the two crouching people in the bottom right-hand corner) you can see it most clearly. It's very rare to find examples of interpenetration in insular art outside of Pictland so the occurrence of it in the Book of Kells raises questions about who did the artwork, or perhaps where the artist may have drawn their inspiration. And so on.

The longer panel is pretty interesting in its own right as well, and this is because you can see details of people's clothing and hairstyles, along with animals like horses, deer, dogs, and more fantastical beasts. It depicts a "woodland hunting scene," probably of the person the shrine was made for – the best guess is that it was probably the shrine of Oengus, son of Fergus, a Pictish king who died in 761:

The information panel notes that the scene seems to have been heavily influenced by Mediterranean artistic styles, but there are also some Anglo-Saxon elements mixed in with the over all Pictish flavour. Here are some close-ups:

This guy is noticeably larger than anyone else in the scene, and it's probably a depiction of the Biblical King David wrestling a lion (he's kinda nonchalant about the whole thing, don't you think?). There's a ram to the left of his head and what appears to be a dog to his right, so he's protecting his flock from the lion. This is one of the major clues about Mediterranean influences here, what with lions not really being a thing in these parts, for one. His clothes are Byzantine in style and his sword is of a Germanic type that was contemporary to the time of the sculptor, but his shoes are Pictish.

Then we have what is likely to be the occupant of the shrine itself – the king who may or may not be Oengus, son of Fergus:

Like David, the king here is fighting a lion, so an obvious comparison is being drawn. David epitomises the ideal king and shows that good leadership can lead his people to salvation and the mercy of God. So Oengus is a pretty decent guy, too....

This guy beneath the king isn't discussed in the information panel, but it's noted that both he and Oengus are dressed in typical Pictish style and have typically Pictish weapons, too. In the close up of the king you can see the details of the horse's gear. There are no stirrups, though, they wouldn't have been in use yet.

I'll just put up a couple more pictures of the panels that sit either side of the hunting scene, right:

And left:

And I'll finish up now because this post is getting a little long and image heavy. The other side of the sarcophagus hasn't survived, but you can tell by the lack of weathering on the stone over all that it would have been kept indoors, probably in a Pictish church or perhaps a mausoleum. At some point, and for some reason – "not long after the initial period of display" it was then deliberately buried.

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr a h-uile duine!

Slàinte, sonas agus beartas dhuibh.
Health, wealth and happiness to you.

Hogmanay was a quiet one for us - surprisingly quiet considering the kids stayed up to see the new year in! The day was spent setting the house in order, baking shortbread and treacle scones, and a dinner of beef stew and sticky toffee pudding, and the evening was spent with slightly manic children and a game of Ludo (a Christmas present we'd yet to play) and keepy-uppy with a balloon up until the bells. We watched as the cannon at Edinburgh was fired to welcome in the new year and the fireworks started going off, and the kids jumped about all excited and we toasted each other with fizzy orange or lemonade (we're nothing if not rock n' roll in this house). Offerings were made, and for once I remembered to put a silver penny out on the doorstep (it was still there this morning; a good sign). We haven't had any first-footers yet, but we'll be going over to the in-law's later on for the traditional steak pie dinner, and probably far too much pudding.

Following on from my previous post, there's an article from the Beeb that ties in neatly:

Happy Hoggo-nott? The 'lost' meanings of Hogmanay

Meanwhile, up north in Stonehaven, the fireball event was nearly cancelled due to flooding this year, but in the end it was planned to go ahead as scheduled. I can't find any videos or articles on it yet, but hopefully everything went smoothly.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone! May 2013 bring all good things.

A Hogmanay blessing

Although it's not quite certain, it's thought that the name "Hogmanay" - which is what the Scots call New Year's Eve - comes from the French word "hoguinane," which itself is ultimately related to the Old French word "aguillaneuf," or a New Year gift. In addition to giving gifts - special gifts that symbolise prosperity, warmth and good will, like food, drink, salt or coal - there is a strong tradition of blessing and divination, and all of these things can be incorporated into a Gaelic Polytheist practice, I think.

One of the most interesting customs that could be revived (because as far as I'm aware it's not done anymore) - in groups where there are enough bodies to do so - is the merry band of the gillean callaig or 'Hogmanay Lads.' The gillean callaig would come round the houses with their songs, bull-hides and sticks, to solicit donations of food and drinks from the household in exchange for a blessing and saining. The sticks would be used to beat around the house as they went around sunwise and called the inhabitants to come out - on the one hand the whole thing was to get the household's attention, but on the other, with the noise and the sunwise turn, and someone dressed in the hide of a magnificent bull, there's the sense of a protective rite, too, scaring away the evil spirits with the noise and a bigger, scarier beast (the bull) as anything that might be around, perhaps. The bull - typically the hide preserved from the winter bull killed at Martinmas - might also symbolise the winter itself, and all of the things that loomed in the season - cold and want, death and illness. The household, in giving the lads hospitality, effectively paid it off, in the hopes of avoiding any of the wintry dangers in future.

Once inside, the bull-hide might be singed and the smoke wafted around the room, just like the juniper and water that would be used the next day, and every member of the household would lean in to inhale the fumes and stench. If the household gave the gillean callaig hospitality to their liking, the lads would leave with a blessing, like this example given by Alexander MacGregor:

Mor-phiseach air an tigh, Piseach air an teaghlach, Piseach air gach cabar. Is air gach ni saoghalt' ann. Piseach air eich a's crodh, Piseach air na caoraich, Piseach air na h-uile ni, 'S piseach air ar maoin uil'. Piseach air beann an tighe, Piseach air na paistean, Piseach air each caraide, Mor-phiseach agus slaint dhuibh.

Great good luck to the house, Good luck to the family, Good luck to every rafter of it, And to every wordly thing in it. Good luck to horses and cattle, Good luck to the sheep. Good luck to every thing, And good luck to all your means. Luck to the good-wife. Good luck to the children, Good luck to every friend. Great fortune and health to all.

This would be said as the head of the gillean callaig went around the hearth (or a proxy - a chair set out specially for the job if the house didn't have an open, central hearth) reciting the blessing, as the rest of the group beat their sticks. Later on in the evening, the household might take to making a right racket themselves, opening the doors and windows as midnight struck, and making as much noise as they could to scare away any evil spirits (and all the negatives of the old year) again. 

A large part of this kind of Hogmanay rite relies on the giving of hospitality. There's an element of challenge at first - the lads beat their sticks and sing their song, demanding to be let in, and it's up to the household to let them in or not (and face the consequences). It all becomes a kind of dance, everyone carefully following the steps in order to maintain a balance at a time when order and chaos are very much hanging. There's an interesting article on all of this - the giving of hospitality, the threshold, and Scottish 'thigging' (sanctioned begging) here, which is well worth a read if you're interested in looking into all of this further. For now, though: Bliadhna mhath ùr dhuibh uile! Agus na h-uile la gu math duibh. Happy New Year everyone! And may all your days be good.

Archive: Scots Gaelic - George McLennan

Scots Gaelic: An Introduction to the Basics
George McLennan

Since I've started my lessons I'm all enthused about learning, so I've had the books out to help get the words stuck in my head (does that make me a bit of a swot? Very likely...). My main concern about learning a new language is that I have very little understanding of how it all works in a technical sense - vocative, genitive, nominative, irregular verbs...Just the thought of all that brings back nightmares of Latin language lessons and me just not getting it. So I thought I'd get a good head start in the hope that I don't get completely lost when the time comes to get all technical. This book fits the bill nicely.

It's not the sort of book that will help you start having simple conversations in Gaelic - rather it aims to give an idea of the basics of all the technical aspects, so instead of learning how to introduce yourself and ask where the nearest toilet might be, McLennan covers lenition and aspiration, the basics of pronunciation, spelling, dialects, inflection, and so on (you will learn some vocabulary as you go, but that's not the primary focus). Each subject has a short chapter devoted to it, and everything is written in a clear and simple manner and the tone is engaging, which is always a help in my book.

The book itself is quite short and some might criticise it for being too simplistic in certain areas, but for me, less was definitely more. Anymore detail would have been overwhelming, I think, and now I'm a little more confident of facing the prospect of tackling different tenses, irregular verbs and so on, even if I know I don't have all of the basics down just yet.

The great advantage of this book is the way McLennan gives comparisons in the English language, which really helped me understand the points he was making - they allow the reader to put the Gaelic into a more familiar context, as it were. He gives examples of English cognates and sticks to words that will likely to be learned early on, rather than giving more obscure examples of vocabulary, which makes things simpler and more familiar. He also does a good job of showing some similarities between English and Gaelic grammar, which helps make the Gaelic seem less alien.

My only bugbear with the book is that while the basic rules of pronunciation are covered, phonetic pronunciations are rarely given along with the Gaelic. The last chapter gives a list of common words that can be used to get the general point across in pidgin Gaelic if you happen to find yourself stranded in the wilds of the Gàidhealtachd where nobody speaks a word of English (well not really...), but without phonetic prompts I don't imagine anyone would feel confident enough to try actually saying most of the words to a Gaelic speaker without the expectation of being laughed at. But really, the lack of phonetics is a distraction, more than anything else - it does kind of spoil the flow the first time round.

On the plus side, then - it's short and sweet, and very straightforward. Some things might need reading more than once to absorb it properly, but you probably won't get completely lost. McLennan also does a good job to accommodate all kinds of readers - not just Scots wanting to learn Gaelic, but readers from further afield as well. There's something for everyone in here, and the fact that dialects are mentioned is a big plus. That might be why phonetic pronunciations aren't usually given, though, because McLennan is presumably trying to accommodate people who might actually live in Gaelic speaking areas, who might learn different pronunciations. It is a bit distracting, though, and limits the usefulness of the final chapter.