The journalist and historian Marcus Tanner has, since 1988, written books about borderlands and countries that have imploded because of ethnic, religious and cultural differences. His first noteworthy book was a history of Croatia, now into its third edition (2010), and his most recent is about the Hungarian king, Matthias Corvinus, whose kingdom encompassed much of modern-day Hungary, Slovakia, Romania and the Balkans. That said kingdom eclipsed following his death, and the extensive library that Corvinus once owned became scattered, with Hungarian nationalists later claiming that the day his library was restored, the old, greater Hungary would rise again.
Not too long ago, I picked up a copy of one of Tanner’s books that had been sitting on my shelf, waiting to be read. The subject matter, I confess, was somewhat alien to me. All the same, I came away from the experience with a greater appreciation for something that I had previously known little about. The Celtic experience has had lasting influences throughout continental Europe and North America (to say nothing about Australasia, for that matter). I remember, one summer, visiting a site of Celtic ruins just outside Bratislava, Slovakia – the Celts made it farther eastward than that, I later learned.
The Last of the Celts, first published in 2004 (Yale University Press), is a gentle interlude in his literary repertoire that, while not dealing directly with geo-political disintegration, encompasses culture, religion, identity and – most crucially – language, particularly as it concerns the Celtic peoples of the British Isles, Ireland, France, Nova Scotia and Argentina.
Not too long ago, I picked up a copy of one of Tanner’s books that had been sitting on my shelf, waiting to be read. The subject matter, I confess, was somewhat alien to me. All the same, I came away from the experience with a greater appreciation for something that I had previously known little about. The Celtic experience has had lasting influences throughout continental Europe and North America (to say nothing about Australasia, for that matter). I remember, one summer, visiting a site of Celtic ruins just outside Bratislava, Slovakia – the Celts made it farther eastward than that, I later learned.
The Last of the Celts, first published in 2004 (Yale University Press), is a gentle interlude in his literary repertoire that, while not dealing directly with geo-political disintegration, encompasses culture, religion, identity and – most crucially – language, particularly as it concerns the Celtic peoples of the British Isles, Ireland, France, Nova Scotia and Argentina.
Taking the contemporary “Celtic revival” as a backdrop, Tanner argues that this popularity in such a revival is superficial and only skin-deep. One may think of St. Patrick's Day revellers drinking "green beer" to prove their Irish-savvy qualities. True Celtic culture, which has pretty much extensively involved language usage, is steadily declining, even in a fortified place like Wales and its Welsh speakers, and may not last into the next generation.
His book is a combination of historical and cultural analysis, combined with his personal travels and (extremely keen) journalistic observations of these Celtic hinterlands and their people. The result is a fascinating, in-depth, but ultimately melancholy book that chronicles the swan song of the Celtic peoples. It is tragic, not in the least given the Celtic influences to be found in our own cultures worldwide – and this goes beyond Halloween, jack-o-lanterns, bagpipes and fiddlers.
Tanner sets out the two linguistic branches of Celtic languages, Goidelic (Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx) and Brythonic (Welsh, Cornish, and Breton), and visits the Scottish Highlands, the Irish Republic, Northern Ireland, and the Isle of Man before proceeding to both North and South Wales, Cornwall and Brittany. He leaves Europe for Nova Scotia, Canada, where a Scottish settlement once thrived until the turn of the last century, before finishing off in Patagonia (Argentina), of all places, where a number of Welsh colonies were established beginning in the 1860s. These, too, were eventually crushed by linguistic and cultural assimilation, as well as the unfriendly vibes from Argentina’s later authoritarian rulers.
A short review cannot do Tanner’s work proper justice, but it appears that in all ten chapters the experiences have a number of commonalities. Tanner emphasizes that religion once guaranteed a certain preservation of language, but with the spread of Protestantism and Non-Conformism throughout the British Isles, the attacks on the Scottish Gaels, for example, were unrelenting. The eventual decline in religious observance was one factor that consigned the use of these languages to older folks. Along with bagpipes and fiddles, which were slated for bonfires for their apparent decadence-spewing qualities, was also Gaelic.
It survived, as did fiddle- and pipe-playing, in Nova Scotia long after it had eclipsed in Scotland, but Nova Scotia’s modernization and end of isolation, notably after the First World War, unleashed a torrent of Anglicization. Celtic music survives in Nova Scotia, and this is the only remnant of a much larger Celtic identity; Gaelic is pretty much never spoken outside of a few specialists and linguists. In Brittany, the unrelenting presence of French, as well as an official state ideology that permits only French usage and is unfriendly to minority languages, has done similar damage to the Bretons. Most Bretons, it seems, worry more about the economy than the revival of their identity.
Similar is the thorough non-existence of Manx and authentic Cornish, two extinct languages that died out long ago. In Cornwall, the last celebrated Cornish speaker is an unlikely hero, in the form of Dolly Pentreath. Her usage of the language apparently manifested the most when would-be patrons that refused to buy her fish became the objects of Cornish cusses. She died in December 1777. While Cornish experienced a revival in the last century, it is just that: a revival, which likely does not do the original language justice in pronunciation and intonation. To make matters worse, there is a schism among Cornish speakers over authenticity and accuracy, which only serves to fudge any attempts at a real revival.
Welsh and Irish are different, Tanner points out. Northern Ireland, he finds, has bastions of Irish speakers that are greater than in the Irish Republic, particularly in Belfast, though they are no doubt responses to the ugly sectarian violence of the so-called “Troubles.” In the Irish Republic, the usage of Irish is permitted and even encouraged – the Irish government finances Irish-language media, for example – but the unwitting effect is that most Irish prefer English, given it has been so entrenched anyway. “Economically, culturally, gastronomically, sexually, and in terms of fashion, Dublin, London and New York have practically converged. A great levelling of former distinctions has taken place. Sentimental patriotism and a disappearing accent are virtually all that now divide this homogenised society” (p. 347).
There is, however, less of a sense of looming extinction in the Irish cases; less so in Wales, where Tanner finds that Welsh has a banal quality that actually ensures the survival of a language. Tanner recounts an experience at a supermarket in Caernarfon, observing teenagers buying beer, and speaking amongst themselves and the cashier entirely in Welsh. “It surprised me,” he writes, “because in Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man I had never seen such mundane activities carried out in anything but English. I had seen or heard Gaelic used in churches, in music and in seminars and on signposts and in beautiful books, but I had never seen it used by what might be described as ‘yobs.’”
He continues: “A language and culture can only stay alive when they are worn casually and unselfconsciously. Welsh has that quality.” Listening to Welsh spoken in a north Pembrokeshire village, Tanner reports being in an “earthly, ordinary place with a jukebox in the corner churning out 1950s American hits,” where “the crowd of men and women shouting at each other above the din spiced their Welsh almost constantly with English swear words. It all seemed alive – a natural affair, rather than some kind of cultural project” (p. 214).
While Welsh may be the high point of The Last of the Celts, not much else by way of Celtic identity and survival has this quality in Tanner’s book. When languages disappear, he points out in his Conclusion, so too do adages, stories, traditions and other bastions of an identity that can never be truly replaced by the best-intentioned revivalists. We are witnessing the end of the Celts, though readers like me may wonder if anyone is even watching.
His book is a combination of historical and cultural analysis, combined with his personal travels and (extremely keen) journalistic observations of these Celtic hinterlands and their people. The result is a fascinating, in-depth, but ultimately melancholy book that chronicles the swan song of the Celtic peoples. It is tragic, not in the least given the Celtic influences to be found in our own cultures worldwide – and this goes beyond Halloween, jack-o-lanterns, bagpipes and fiddlers.
Tanner sets out the two linguistic branches of Celtic languages, Goidelic (Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx) and Brythonic (Welsh, Cornish, and Breton), and visits the Scottish Highlands, the Irish Republic, Northern Ireland, and the Isle of Man before proceeding to both North and South Wales, Cornwall and Brittany. He leaves Europe for Nova Scotia, Canada, where a Scottish settlement once thrived until the turn of the last century, before finishing off in Patagonia (Argentina), of all places, where a number of Welsh colonies were established beginning in the 1860s. These, too, were eventually crushed by linguistic and cultural assimilation, as well as the unfriendly vibes from Argentina’s later authoritarian rulers.
A short review cannot do Tanner’s work proper justice, but it appears that in all ten chapters the experiences have a number of commonalities. Tanner emphasizes that religion once guaranteed a certain preservation of language, but with the spread of Protestantism and Non-Conformism throughout the British Isles, the attacks on the Scottish Gaels, for example, were unrelenting. The eventual decline in religious observance was one factor that consigned the use of these languages to older folks. Along with bagpipes and fiddles, which were slated for bonfires for their apparent decadence-spewing qualities, was also Gaelic.
It survived, as did fiddle- and pipe-playing, in Nova Scotia long after it had eclipsed in Scotland, but Nova Scotia’s modernization and end of isolation, notably after the First World War, unleashed a torrent of Anglicization. Celtic music survives in Nova Scotia, and this is the only remnant of a much larger Celtic identity; Gaelic is pretty much never spoken outside of a few specialists and linguists. In Brittany, the unrelenting presence of French, as well as an official state ideology that permits only French usage and is unfriendly to minority languages, has done similar damage to the Bretons. Most Bretons, it seems, worry more about the economy than the revival of their identity.
Similar is the thorough non-existence of Manx and authentic Cornish, two extinct languages that died out long ago. In Cornwall, the last celebrated Cornish speaker is an unlikely hero, in the form of Dolly Pentreath. Her usage of the language apparently manifested the most when would-be patrons that refused to buy her fish became the objects of Cornish cusses. She died in December 1777. While Cornish experienced a revival in the last century, it is just that: a revival, which likely does not do the original language justice in pronunciation and intonation. To make matters worse, there is a schism among Cornish speakers over authenticity and accuracy, which only serves to fudge any attempts at a real revival.
Welsh and Irish are different, Tanner points out. Northern Ireland, he finds, has bastions of Irish speakers that are greater than in the Irish Republic, particularly in Belfast, though they are no doubt responses to the ugly sectarian violence of the so-called “Troubles.” In the Irish Republic, the usage of Irish is permitted and even encouraged – the Irish government finances Irish-language media, for example – but the unwitting effect is that most Irish prefer English, given it has been so entrenched anyway. “Economically, culturally, gastronomically, sexually, and in terms of fashion, Dublin, London and New York have practically converged. A great levelling of former distinctions has taken place. Sentimental patriotism and a disappearing accent are virtually all that now divide this homogenised society” (p. 347).
There is, however, less of a sense of looming extinction in the Irish cases; less so in Wales, where Tanner finds that Welsh has a banal quality that actually ensures the survival of a language. Tanner recounts an experience at a supermarket in Caernarfon, observing teenagers buying beer, and speaking amongst themselves and the cashier entirely in Welsh. “It surprised me,” he writes, “because in Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man I had never seen such mundane activities carried out in anything but English. I had seen or heard Gaelic used in churches, in music and in seminars and on signposts and in beautiful books, but I had never seen it used by what might be described as ‘yobs.’”
He continues: “A language and culture can only stay alive when they are worn casually and unselfconsciously. Welsh has that quality.” Listening to Welsh spoken in a north Pembrokeshire village, Tanner reports being in an “earthly, ordinary place with a jukebox in the corner churning out 1950s American hits,” where “the crowd of men and women shouting at each other above the din spiced their Welsh almost constantly with English swear words. It all seemed alive – a natural affair, rather than some kind of cultural project” (p. 214).
While Welsh may be the high point of The Last of the Celts, not much else by way of Celtic identity and survival has this quality in Tanner’s book. When languages disappear, he points out in his Conclusion, so too do adages, stories, traditions and other bastions of an identity that can never be truly replaced by the best-intentioned revivalists. We are witnessing the end of the Celts, though readers like me may wonder if anyone is even watching.
