Irish Spanish Origins & Words

Having been travelling back and forth to Spain and Cuba these last few years I've been struck by the great similarities between some Spanish and Irish words. There are of course Latin roots to many Irish words,  but what is more interesting, is the relation between Irish and the original Celtic languages of Spain which are now extinct. Irish, though more than "two thousand years a growing," is perhaps (if the indigenous histories of Ireland are to be believed) the only extant Celtic language of Spain still in existence, let me explain!

Spanish National Library, Irish Gaels 1529

According to Gaelic chronicles, most notably, Lebor Gábhala Érenn (from the late 11th century) the Irish people are of Spanish origin. If you were of Gaelic royal blood you had to trace yourself to the north of Spain. All clans of note would begin their genealogies with the Gaelic conquest of Ireland, that being, with the sons of Míl Espáine, and their leader Íth. As Gaelic chieftain Hugh O' Donnell said (affirming his allegiance to Spain in a letter from 1593 to King Philip of Spain) "quod mea prosapea [sic] ex cantabrea [sic] originem sumpsit." "Because I myself am of Cantabrian origin." As proof of this when O' Donnell eventually fled to Spain he brought with him a copy of Lebor Gábhala Érenn, and along with that, a history of the genealogy of his clan to the Spanish court.

Many modern scholars hold these origin histories of the Irish in doubt and prefer to think of them as legends. What is interesting, is that recent genetic studies of Irish have placed the Irish populations beginnings squarely in the north of Spain, giving further credence to our Spanish origins. Lebor Gábhala Érenn was patched together from many earlier works, and had its own propaganda purposes at the time it was put together, and since. It comes from a firmly christian world (with some long lost original pagan sources). It tells how Ireland was spied from a tower in Galicia in the North of Spain called Breogán's Tower. Íth, son of Míl Espáine (who's father in turn was Bile son of Breogán) was told by his father to take that green land in the distance, so beginning the Gaelic conquest of Ireland.

Because of all this, and for other more practical reasons, for many hundreds of years, any Irish seeking refuge in Spain were considered native Spanish under Spanish law. In 1680 Charles II of Spain, in a royal decree, stated that "the Irish in Spain have always enjoyed the same privileges as Spaniards, this has always been the practice and indeed still is today."

In 1791 aroused by fears brought on by the French revolution an order was issued for a  special register of foreigners in Spain. Three native Irish men living Cadiz (being aware of the old laws) complained that they should not have to register. Their case was brought before the local magistrate who communicated with the Consejo Real in Madrid who replied "the taking of the oath to which all foreigners have been directed to submit, shall not be exacted on the Irish, seeing that by the sole fact of their having settled in Spain the Irish are regarded as Spaniards and have the same rights." This was signed as a royal decree by Charles IV in March 1792. This also applied to Army lists, where Irish were listed along with Spaniards according to seniority, whereas regiments of Flanders, Italy and Switzerland were entered at the end as foreign mercenaries. In 1734 the regiment of Limerick was listed as the oldest of the native Spanish regiments, for instance.

In 1529 the Earl of Desmond, James Fitzmaurice, and an envoy of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, King of Spain signed the Treaty of Dingle which incorporated much of the south-west of Ireland into a territory of the Hapsburg monarchy and confirmed again Irish peoples citizenship rights in Spain. Of course, this was highly effective propaganda for Spain against the English crown, that is, having a fresh stock of loyal catholics who were of the one blood with Spaniards ready to fight and die for their cause!

For me, one of the more chilling moments in Irish history was when what remained of the Gaelic nobility in the north of Ireland (in the personage of Hugh O' Neill, aforementioned Hugh O' Donnell and their retinues) sailed for the north of Spain in 1607 never to return, beginning what was called "The Flight of the Earls." Was this the Gaelic kings returning to their old origins?

Another great example of Spanish/Irish from this time is Philibín ó Súilleabháin Beara-child of an Irish nobleman who, along with his family, left Ireland for Spain in 1602, never to return. Philibín became a scholar, and was commissioned by the Spanish government to write "A Natural History of Ireland"-a reply to some very influential propaganda written by Geraldius Cambrensis called Topographia Hibernica. Geraldius's tome was written to King Henry II of England, and was used as an effective carte blanche for the original invasion and syphoning off of Ireland to English control, the book was dusted off again in Elizabethan times to justify their reconquest of Ireland. Unfortunately Philibín's important writings were lost to history until recent times, when they were found in manuscripts in the University of Upsala in Sweden. Another O' Sullivan published the first volume of the translation (from the original Latin to English) in 2009.

My own 21st century scribbling are being done, fittingly, in the town of Paterna in the province of Valencia, Spain. La leyenda persiste!


I'll finish with a bunch of Spanish words, with their Irish equivalents after...


Sconse, Sconsa
A fenced off fort

Cómo estás tu? Conas atá tu? 
How are you?

Escoba/Scuab
Broom

Tierra/Tír

Country

Toro/tarbh

Bull

Cama/Leaba

Bed

Cofre/Cofra
Chest (as in a chest of drawers)

Cala/Caladh
A cove or small bay

Mama/Mama*
A woman's breast

Fosa/Fossa**
A grave pit or ditch

Conejo (Conill in Valenciano)/Coinín
Rabbit

Ayer/Aréir
Yesterday

Fiesta (Feasta in Valenciano)/Feasta
Party with food and drink

Di Marts(Valenciano)/De Máirt
Tuesday

Na(Valenciano)/Na
The in plural form as in "the Germans"

Corbata/Carbhat
Tie (as in a neck-tie)

Pecados/Peacaí
Sins (from the latin I'm guessing!)

Obra/Obair
Work

Taberna/Tábhairne
Pub

* I came across this word in Irish in the poetry of 18th century Irish poet Eoghan Rua Ó' Súilleabháin (in the third verse of the linked poem). Eoin came from Gníomh go Léith another village next to Killarney.

** There is a village next to my hometown of Killarney called Fossa. I was always told that the meaning of the village had been lost or that it had a pre-Celtic origin, methinks it is surely Celtic!




Further Reading


Ireland 1518 by  Lauret Vital, introduction by Hiram Morgan, a Dorothy Convery translation (2011)

The Natural History of Ireland by Don Philibín Ó Súileabháin Beara, translation by Denis C. O'Sullivan (2009)

The Military Order of St. Patrick by Micheline Walsh, Seanchas Ardmhacha: Journal of the Armagh Diocesan Historical Society Vol. 9, No. 2 (1979)

An Old Note Found, 's an Chatalóin Abú!

I found this note (written in Irish) in a book in a local second hand bookstore called "The Dungeon," appropriately, the shop is on the second floor! Although it is no catacomb, the Dungeon does has a slightly cavernous feel to it, and you never know what might jump out at you from the myriad of books on its shelves. The note was found in a nondescript English language book I've forgotten the name of.

On reading the scribblings I was reminded of the novel "Cloud Atlas" by David Mitchell. As far as I'm aware Mr. Mitchell is an English author living in West Cork. Cloud Atlas abounds and binds beautifully between seemly disparate, but somehow connected stories, such as, a 19th century ship's doctor in the South Seas and a South Korean clone in the distant future. The author weaves from the infinite possibilities of cause and effect that we are often blind to. I'm sure the note I found has its own twisted web of entanglement to untangle but that is surely for someone else to unfold. A translation of the note would be....

"If you have anything in the manuscripts from December of '57 use this ticket. I got this quill in the Glen of Aherlow during the search we did a while ago. From the "fingerprints" it seems that that the Doctor Cumiskey used it for the stories he used to write."

I put the words I wasn't too sure of in Italics. The note is written in old Gaelic script, strangely the author of the note appears to use the letter z (and maybe even a very unusual x), neither of which are in the Irish Alphabet.

Zoéalzáin, crucaize and Cúmaxe. These words look like a strange mix between Catalan and Irish. Maybe its a portent from the gods that the Catalans will triumph in their referendum tomorrow. Or maybe I'm seeing things myself, drawing my own lines in the sand, weaving my own twisted web! Ar aon nós, go mbeidh an t-adh dearg oraibh amárach, muintir na Catalóine!

A Whirlwind Spanish Tour

A blast from the past (in the form of musician Paul Gomez) came and transplanted me to the mountains and valleys of Spain. From El Molar to Alcobendas and from Madrid to San Sebastián de los Reyes we marched a merry way-bringing music from Erin's green shore to arid Spanish planes. We ran the gamut of venues: from caves nestled cosily into mountains, to tents on the sides of motorways in the urban sprawl of Madrid.

Live in "The Cave Of The Wolf!" John Meskel, Myself, and Paul Gomez

Bullfighting and a religious procession were also part of the bargain, though thankfully we didn't have to play music at either! España Cañi is a term that is probably translated best as "Folkloric Spain" and that is certainly what was experienced in the course of our travels.

La Taberna Marinera

Bullfighting, El Molar

The bullfighting is something I'm unlikely to forget anytime soon. I was between two minds as to whether I should go at-all, but in the end I gritted my teeth and said "if I've never experienced it I can't really have a proper opinion of it." After attending the saturday afternoon bullfight on the outskirts of El Molar, I can honestly say bullfighting is not for me, and neither do I think it is something that should still be practiced in 21st century Spain. After seeing the fifth bull butchered I'd had enough and we made a quick exit. To see each bull's stomach muscles repeatedly clench after it was pierced by the pica (like any humans would) was a hard sight to behold. I was told the particular bullfight I was witnessing was decidedly amateur-the bullfighters were student matadors, so hadn't the same skill to cleanly kill the bull as those of more experience would have had. Amateur or not, "the bulls" of "bullfighting" are cruelly killed in a strange and slow pageantry. A band play in the middle of it all- the trumpets burst and the drums roll, sounding the poor animal's long death knell.

 La Ermita de Nuestra Señora del Remolino

On the last day of our visit I followed the statue of "The Virgin Of The Whirlwind" as she made a small tour of the environs around the church she calls home. The statue was brought from "La Ermita de Nuestra Señora del Remolino" in procession around the vicinity, before being moved to another location further up in the mountains.  This occurred in May just before the heat of summer, through a lush and still verdant Spanish valley. Lola, whose grandson was one of the pole-bearers, was my guide. In the evening sun we slowly strolled along as the Virgin completed her small tour. The whole community was camped and parked wherever they could find a space. People took the day to relax, eat and drink, some then followed the procession around the valley. Later that evening, Lola recounted some of the history of La Virgin Del Remolino to me again...

Ireland 1518

Before christmas I bought the book "Ireland 1518," and a wonderful tome it is too! Given that the prism for most of our vision of ourselves in Ireland comes through the Anglo perspective, it was refreshing that such a gem as this was uncovered, translated and released to the general public. I bought my copy in the Crawford Art Gallery in Cork. The book rehashes many "ye wilde Irish" stereotypes, but isn't as harsh on the Irish as many other commentators are in this period. Thankfully the pronouncements entailed there in, aren't the decrees of a conquerer, but rather, the words of a French speaking diplomat of the 16th century Hapsburg Court. Here is a link to a later publication of the original text, thanks to Sébastien for that!

Even history itself is taught according to the English Monarch that was in residence (at least that was my experience in secondary school), not to mind the litanies of law, learning and genealogy that are all now wholly English. Given that law, learning, and genealogy were the mainstays of Irish/Gaelic culture all through the late medieval period (and well before) it is a bitter pill that most of our vision of the past is now foreign to us. The uniqueness of our own take on "society" is lost to us.

"Ireland 1518" is a translation from the french diaries of Laurent Vital-a servant in the Hapsburg court. Vital's chronicles detail how himself, and the soon to be Holy Roman Emperor, Archduke Ferdinand of Spain and Austria, got stuck in a storm on the way to the Low Countries and found shelter in Kinsale, Ireland. Vital speaks with many of the local inhabitants and has (as you'll see) a keen eye for detail! They spent four days in the town.

Illustration by Hector McDonnell from "Ireland 1518"

Vital says the townspeople had fashions of clothes and manners that were common on mainland Europe in previous centuries-he is surprised to find these old ways alive and well in Ireland. One of his fixations is the bare breasted women who are everywhere in the town-a fashion he is not accustomed to, it would seem!

"Generally the men, women and young girls wear their shirts open to the waist. It is as common there to see or touch the breast of a girl or woman, as it is to touch her hand. There I saw all sorts of breast according to age. There I saw nipples of girls aged twelve years; afterwards the nipples that they have when they are fourteen or fifteen years old, until they begin to develop in size and shape. And I saw some completely developed, so very round and pert that it was a pleasure to see them, as here have the marriageable girls of eighteen years and above. I also saw all sorts of tits, middle sizes, big, shapely and in the open hand one would have called them firm but yielding. And I saw some so disgusting and unsavoury that I marvelled where the little children could receive daily nourishment. Also I saw others which were not at all worth looking at, so ugly and wrinkled were they and only deserve the name of flaccid udders."

The Hapsburg courtier is told that the townsfolk "dare not go outside the town without being strongly accompanied and well armed." The foreignness of the "Old English" inhabitants of the town is confounded again by the otherworldly spectre of the Irish or "savages" who "have control of countryside" outside the city walls.  The savages only seem to mingle when it is there place to do so, such as, when a wonderful Irish musician/athlete entertains the Hapsburg's, at the behest of the local "Old English" Earl. "He was a servant of the lord of this country who liked him very much because of the graces and talents he had. And he had come there to make some entertainment for his highness before his departure, with a harp his servant carried for him. On which the savage played extremely gorgeously and sang on and on. I asked the intermediary what he was singing. He said it was a very devout and piteous song, on the mystery of the passion of our saviour Jesus Christ. This man recounted marvellous things about the savage, saying he had three particular talents, for which his master liked him so much, he said that the first was that he was without equal in courage and boldness, and his master would prefer to have him by his side than six others if he was among enemies. And also that this man is so fleet of foot that he runs like a horse and almost as quick. And besides, he swims in all sorts of water like a fish, so that on his lords command he had often jumped into open sea and brought him back a fish, when the sea was calm and peaceful. On account of this, they asked him if, for the love of my lord, he would jump into the sea."

The savages, we are told, at certain times of year come in great numbers to exact tribute and "ravage the town." In times past they used to "pillage everything and kill all who opposed them, but now the townsfolk have found a way to greet them happily and to feast with them, and to give them good food and drink, and at leave taking to give them a small souvenir; but against their arrival, they hide their good effects for fear of losing them."

There must be many other writings of this sort out there, scattered abroad, treasures that (thankfully) sometimes wash up on the shores of popular consciousness. It is a sobering thought to think that European libraries have reams of manuscripts written by Irish monks, scholars, diplomats, who, for the last millennium, have found themselves doing some of their most fertile work abroad. Few to none of their writings have been published. Maybe it is something the government should make more of an effort with-repatriation of knowledge. Our priorities, too often, are in different camps!  This came to mind while I scribbled.