From Myth to History
Reading history is humbling. You realize you're not that special. You also realize just about everyone went through the same things you have. And sometimes you also learn that things which seemed solid knowledge are really based on quicksand. For many years I have heard that Galicia is a Celtic nation, along with Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany in France. But that's not quite true. The idea of a Celtic nation is also under debate.
The idea of a Celtic nation is something relatively recent. Arqueologists will confirm that there was no such thing as a Celt. There were similarities in communities stretching from central Europe to the Atlantic shores from about 2000 B.C.E. until the ascension of the Romans, but from that to an ethnically homogeneous community is a jump taken by the Romantics in the nineteenth century with no real basis in fact.
Nineteenth century nationalisms have their roots in the rising of European states in medieval times. The fact is that Galicia was being ignored by the rest of Spain. It began with the Catholic Monarchs in the fifteenth century. Most of the lords of Galicia were against Isabella, and in favor of her niece, Juana la Beltraneja, in the internecine wars following the death of Juana's father, Enrique IV, of the House of Trastámara. One of the reasons for the debate over the throne was that Juana was engaged to Alfonso V of Portugal, who would become the de facto King of Castile if Juana sat on her father's throne. But Isabella won the fight, and she inflicted punishment on the nobles of Galicia who had defended Juana. Those who defended her had to join the court in Castile. Those who opposed her were deprived of their lands, which were given to Castilian nobles. A governer-general was appointed in Galicia, and a Junta do Reyno was set up, to oversee administrative matters, all composed of outsiders. On a more punitive basis, she later ordered all the olive trees uprooted, to help new olive groves that were being planted to the south, in reconquested areas of the peninsula.
After that, Galicia lost economic and political power, languishing in its corner. In the late eighteenth century, though, along came the myth of Celtic nationhood, and Galicia latched itself onto it. It was a way of differentiating this land from the onerous Castile which would not allow it to grow and be proud of itself in its own way. One of the claims to Celtism came from the use of the bagpipes. The bagpipes, however, have been used across northern Spain ever since Roman times. In fact, the origins of the bagpipes lie in the Middle East. Paintings of a primitive type of bagpipe have been found in Egypt. Ancient Greeks and Romans also used them. Now, they form part of the musical folklore of many European and Middle Eastern countries, though more prominent in some than in others.
Folklore has also tried to make Galicia Celtic. There is the legend that Galician warriors conquered Ireland. Here, we run into something with a little more basis in fact. Irish monks wrote chronicles titled Leabhar Gabhála Éireann or The Book of Conquests. These chronicles talk of six invasions of the Emerald Isle, the last being of the Milesians. In that part of the legend, there is a chieftain, Breogán, who, in his city of Brigantia (A Coruña), built a tall tower from which he and his sons could espy a fair land to the north. His son, Ith, decided to sail and conquer it. He failed, however, being killed by the Tuatha Dé Danann. In retaliation, the grandson of Breogan, and son of Ith, Mil, launched another invasion, and this time was successful. The sons of Mil Espáine were given the world above to rule, and the Tuatha Dé ruled the underworld.
This legend exists both in Irish and Galician folklore. Which is one thing in its favor of having the germ of truth. Another thing in its favor was a genetic survey done by Bryan Sykes and published in his book, The Blood of the Isles. In it, after taking DNA samples from 10,000 volunteers, he determined there was a relationship between the British Isles and northern Spain in the past. Spencer Wells, in his study Nuestros Antepasados (Our Ancestors), took a genetic marker and found it to be common in both the British Isles and northern Spain since the last glaciation, having existed for much longer in the peninsula, determining that part of the re-population of the Isles after the ice retreated could very easily have come from the Iberian peninsula.
Another way in which Galicia is connected with these Celtic nations, is by way of immigrants from Great Britain. From the fourth century onwards, the Roman presence in Britain diminishes, and ultimately disappears, troops being removed in the fifth century. Saxons, Picts, and Angles start to attack. Many Romanized Britons leave for what is now Brittany. Others head further south, and settle along the northern coast of Spain, in an area roughly from Ferrol in the west, to Navia in the east. There, these Christianized Britons set up the diocese of Britoña, in the area of what is now a little village still called Bretoña. After a time, with the submission of the Galician Suevian kingdom to the Visigoths, and the Viking invasions of the late tenth century, the capital is moved to what is now Mondoñedo, in the north of the modern-day province of Lugo. What these Britons brought was a Celtic Christianity, much like that practiced in the western areas of the British Isles. From them we inherited the hermits who took off into the wilderness to contemplate God. There are a few in Galician folklore which the Roman Church has ended up accepting as saints. They also brought, apart from the universally spoken Latin, a vernacular that ended up affecting the speech of northern Lugo, which is now seen in what is called the dialecto Mindoniense, and mainly affects pronunciation and perhaps a word or two only used locally.
So, the attempt of the Romantics to make Galicia an ethnically separate nation from the rest of Spain, and link it to other Atlantic communities, wasn't so far fetched, after all. Though from there to asserting that sylvan communities abounded in all these areas that had the same social codes, and the same deities, and even the same romantic Druids prancing in local oak groves, is another thing. I am sure there were similarities, but also plenty of discrepancies. While the British Celts were described by the Romans quite well (the controversy there is that we only have the word of the conqueror), Galician communities were not that well described, except in their fighting ability.
While the Romantic legend is nice, I think it's time to start divulging the real connections of the peoples along the Atlantic coast. They're much more interesting.
The idea of a Celtic nation is something relatively recent. Arqueologists will confirm that there was no such thing as a Celt. There were similarities in communities stretching from central Europe to the Atlantic shores from about 2000 B.C.E. until the ascension of the Romans, but from that to an ethnically homogeneous community is a jump taken by the Romantics in the nineteenth century with no real basis in fact.
Nineteenth century nationalisms have their roots in the rising of European states in medieval times. The fact is that Galicia was being ignored by the rest of Spain. It began with the Catholic Monarchs in the fifteenth century. Most of the lords of Galicia were against Isabella, and in favor of her niece, Juana la Beltraneja, in the internecine wars following the death of Juana's father, Enrique IV, of the House of Trastámara. One of the reasons for the debate over the throne was that Juana was engaged to Alfonso V of Portugal, who would become the de facto King of Castile if Juana sat on her father's throne. But Isabella won the fight, and she inflicted punishment on the nobles of Galicia who had defended Juana. Those who defended her had to join the court in Castile. Those who opposed her were deprived of their lands, which were given to Castilian nobles. A governer-general was appointed in Galicia, and a Junta do Reyno was set up, to oversee administrative matters, all composed of outsiders. On a more punitive basis, she later ordered all the olive trees uprooted, to help new olive groves that were being planted to the south, in reconquested areas of the peninsula.
After that, Galicia lost economic and political power, languishing in its corner. In the late eighteenth century, though, along came the myth of Celtic nationhood, and Galicia latched itself onto it. It was a way of differentiating this land from the onerous Castile which would not allow it to grow and be proud of itself in its own way. One of the claims to Celtism came from the use of the bagpipes. The bagpipes, however, have been used across northern Spain ever since Roman times. In fact, the origins of the bagpipes lie in the Middle East. Paintings of a primitive type of bagpipe have been found in Egypt. Ancient Greeks and Romans also used them. Now, they form part of the musical folklore of many European and Middle Eastern countries, though more prominent in some than in others.
Folklore has also tried to make Galicia Celtic. There is the legend that Galician warriors conquered Ireland. Here, we run into something with a little more basis in fact. Irish monks wrote chronicles titled Leabhar Gabhála Éireann or The Book of Conquests. These chronicles talk of six invasions of the Emerald Isle, the last being of the Milesians. In that part of the legend, there is a chieftain, Breogán, who, in his city of Brigantia (A Coruña), built a tall tower from which he and his sons could espy a fair land to the north. His son, Ith, decided to sail and conquer it. He failed, however, being killed by the Tuatha Dé Danann. In retaliation, the grandson of Breogan, and son of Ith, Mil, launched another invasion, and this time was successful. The sons of Mil Espáine were given the world above to rule, and the Tuatha Dé ruled the underworld.
This legend exists both in Irish and Galician folklore. Which is one thing in its favor of having the germ of truth. Another thing in its favor was a genetic survey done by Bryan Sykes and published in his book, The Blood of the Isles. In it, after taking DNA samples from 10,000 volunteers, he determined there was a relationship between the British Isles and northern Spain in the past. Spencer Wells, in his study Nuestros Antepasados (Our Ancestors), took a genetic marker and found it to be common in both the British Isles and northern Spain since the last glaciation, having existed for much longer in the peninsula, determining that part of the re-population of the Isles after the ice retreated could very easily have come from the Iberian peninsula.
Another way in which Galicia is connected with these Celtic nations, is by way of immigrants from Great Britain. From the fourth century onwards, the Roman presence in Britain diminishes, and ultimately disappears, troops being removed in the fifth century. Saxons, Picts, and Angles start to attack. Many Romanized Britons leave for what is now Brittany. Others head further south, and settle along the northern coast of Spain, in an area roughly from Ferrol in the west, to Navia in the east. There, these Christianized Britons set up the diocese of Britoña, in the area of what is now a little village still called Bretoña. After a time, with the submission of the Galician Suevian kingdom to the Visigoths, and the Viking invasions of the late tenth century, the capital is moved to what is now Mondoñedo, in the north of the modern-day province of Lugo. What these Britons brought was a Celtic Christianity, much like that practiced in the western areas of the British Isles. From them we inherited the hermits who took off into the wilderness to contemplate God. There are a few in Galician folklore which the Roman Church has ended up accepting as saints. They also brought, apart from the universally spoken Latin, a vernacular that ended up affecting the speech of northern Lugo, which is now seen in what is called the dialecto Mindoniense, and mainly affects pronunciation and perhaps a word or two only used locally.
So, the attempt of the Romantics to make Galicia an ethnically separate nation from the rest of Spain, and link it to other Atlantic communities, wasn't so far fetched, after all. Though from there to asserting that sylvan communities abounded in all these areas that had the same social codes, and the same deities, and even the same romantic Druids prancing in local oak groves, is another thing. I am sure there were similarities, but also plenty of discrepancies. While the British Celts were described by the Romans quite well (the controversy there is that we only have the word of the conqueror), Galician communities were not that well described, except in their fighting ability.
While the Romantic legend is nice, I think it's time to start divulging the real connections of the peoples along the Atlantic coast. They're much more interesting.
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