Latest / The Story of Scotland: Clans, Crowns, and the Fight for Identity — Fexingo History / The Scots Language: From Gaelic to Lallans
Transcript
- Lucas: We’ve spent a lot of time here talking about the Highland Clearances and the Jacobite risings, but there’s another kind of displacement that happened quietly in the Lowlands, one fought over dictionaries and spelling rather than swords. Lucas: I’m thinking about the Scots language itself, or what some purists still call 'Lallans'. It wasn’t just a broken version of English; it was a distinct Germanic tongue, closely related to early Middle English, that had been spoken from the Borders to the North since the days of the Kingdom of Alba. Luna: So it wasn't just a dialect, it was its own language? Lucas: Exactly. By the fifteenth century, it had a rich literary tradition. Writers like Gavin Douglas translated the Aeneid into Scots verse, which is a massive deal because Latin was usually the only language considered worthy of serious poetry at the time. Lucas: But then came the Union of the Crowns in 1603. When King James VI left Edinburgh for London to become James I of England, he looked down on his native tongue. Luna: Did he really hate it? Lucas: He didn’t just dislike it; he actively tried to erase it. In his book A Treatise on the United Kingdom, James called Scots a 'barbarous tongue' and warned that if they continued to use it, they would be seen as uncivilized by their new English subjects. Lucas: It was a strategic move for the monarchy, trying to smooth over the political friction between two very different kingdoms, but it had a chilling effect on Scottish writers for nearly two hundred years. Luna: That must have been terrifying for anyone trying to publish a poem. Lucas: It forced many authors to Anglicize their work. You start seeing a shift where educated Scots began writing in standard English to be taken seriously, leaving the vernacular to the farmers and the tradesmen. Lucas: This created this strange duality where the language of law and church was English, but the language of home and heart remained Scots, filled with words like bairns for children or kist for a chest. Luna: It sounds like the language went underground almost. Lucas: In a way, yes. And it stayed there until the mid-eighteenth century, when Robert Burns stepped onto the stage. He didn’t write in standard English; he wrote in a broad Ayrshire dialect, capturing the rhythm and humor of the common folk. Lucas: When he published Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect in 1786, it was an explosion. People across Britain were obsessed with his authenticity. He proved you could write high art without sanitizing your accent. Luna: Auld Lang Syne is the most famous example, right? Lucas: It’s the most global example. The phrase means old long ago, or old times, and Burns essentially polished a folk song into immortality. But for him, it was a statement of identity. Lucas: He was saying that the stories of ordinary Scots mattered just as much as the epics of ancient Greece. That was radical for the time, especially given the pressure to assimilate into British culture. Luna: It feels like a reclaiming of dignity through words. Lucas: Precisely. And that energy carried through the nineteenth century, even as the language itself started to fracture under the weight of standardized education. Lucas: Children were punished for speaking Scots in school well into the twentieth century. It was treated as a defect, a sign of poor upbringing, which caused a deep cultural shame. Luna: That sounds incredibly painful for families to pass down. Lucas: It severed the link between generations. Grandparents would speak Scots, parents might speak a mixed dialect, and children were taught to speak proper English, creating this silence around their heritage. Lucas: But then, in the 1920s, a poet named Hugh MacDiarmid decided to fight back. He argued that Scotland needed a modern literary language, not just a preservation of old rhymes. Luna: How did he do that? Lucas: He revived 'Pillar Scot', a dense, archaic form of the language found in medieval manuscripts. He blended these old words with modern concepts, creating something completely new and fiercely intellectual. Lucas: His poem On a Raised Beach is a masterpiece of this style. It connects the geological history of Scotland with the human experience, using words that had barely been used in centuries. Luna: It was like waking up a sleeping giant. Lucas: That’s a good way to put it. MacDiarmid showed that Scots wasn’t just for pub songs; it was capable of handling philosophy, science, and modern angst. Lucas: However, the movement also sparked intense debates. Some felt that by making it so difficult and academic, they were alienating the very people who spoke the language every day. Luna: So there was tension between purity and accessibility. Lucas: Always. And today, that tension is still alive. There’s a growing recognition of Scots as a minority language, protected under European charters, but the question remains about how to teach it. Lucas: Do we teach it as a historical artifact, or as a living, breathing tool for communication? It’s no longer just about Burns or MacDiarmid; it’s about who gets to define Scottish identity in the twenty-first century. Luna: It’s fascinating how language becomes a battlefield for identity. Lucas: It absolutely is. And while the Highlands had their battles for land, the Lowlands had their battles for words, and both were essential to understanding what it means to be Scottish. Lucas: If you’ve been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you know that these small cultural shifts often matter just as much as treaties and wars. Lucas: This show is made possible by listeners like you. Your support keeps our research deep and our conversations ad-free, allowing us to explore these nuanced topics without compromise. Luna: It really helps keep the voices of the past alive. Lucas: It does. If you’d like to help us continue this journey, you can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: Every contribution makes a difference to the archive. Lucas: Thanks for listening. Now, let’s get back to those medieval manuscripts. Lucas: MacDiarmid’s revival wasn’t just about words; it was about reclaiming the intellectual confidence of the nation. He believed that a country couldn’t be truly free if it couldn’t think in its own tongue. Luna: That’s a powerful idea to hold onto. Lucas: It is. And while his specific dialect never became everyone’s daily speech, he opened the door for future generations to feel proud of their linguistic heritage. Lucas: Today, you’ll hear Scots in modern music, in theatre, and increasingly in schools. It’s no longer a secret code or a source of shame, but a vibrant part of the national conversation. Luna: It feels like the circle is finally closing. Lucas: Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s just beginning again. After all, language is always changing, always adapting to the people who speak it. Lucas: The next time you hear a Scots word, maybe you’ll think of Gavin Douglas in his scriptorium, or Burns in his study, fighting to make sure that voice wasn’t lost to the winds of London. Luna: I’ll definitely listen for it next time. Lucas: You will. And it’s a reminder that identity isn’t just drawn on maps; it’s spoken in kitchens and recited in halls, one word at a time.