What does it mean to be of Scottish descent in Canada? How can one be proud of ancestors whose idea of fine cuisine was boiling up oatmeal in the stomach of a sheep? Where their men traditionally wore the skirts? Where their concept of music resembled nothing more than a man doing horrible things to an Octopus; and the poor ‘pus protesting piteously? And since when was throwing an over sized telephone pole about considered a sport?
Yes, I was raised in a community of vaguely Scottish origin; vaguer now than then it was then. When my father was in the house no music could be played, and I never understood that, for my father was one of the most singing, whistling fellows I ever met; He never knew more than two – four lines of lyrics, and never whistled a full melody, but sing and whistle he did. It was when the ‘cat’ was away that my mother could play, and what she played mostly was the old Country and Western tunes, and ....bagpipe music. You can well imagine how stifling this seemed to a 12 year old, would be ‘60’s radical, farm boy. I wanted to listen to what was then popular; but, no, for me it was nothing but Pipes and Hound dog music!
“Hound dog howling, so forlorn,
Laziest critter that ever was born.
He’s howlin’ cause he’s sitting on a thorn.
Just too durned lazy to move over!”
“Life get’s tejus, don’t it?”
Author unrecalled
That was one of my Mother’s favourites, and between it, and others like it, with the addition of the ‘pipes’, I’m surprised that I ever made it through puberty. To my shame I recall, upon occasion, swearing that, if I ever met a cowboy playing the pipes, I’d put the poor bugger out of his misery myself! But time passes, and brain cells flair briefly, then fade away; by the time I was 30 I found that the modern country music wasn’t too bad, I liked the tempo, and really like the word play. Even Bagpipes were tolerable; I’ve been told that there are good pipers, and bad pipers, but, it takes a very experienced judge to tell the difference!
I visited the MVP Toastmasters club the other evening; this is an advanced club, just going through its birth throes. Currently its membership stands at 15 and it needs about five more people to officially charter; I don’t think that will take very long. I’ve never attended an advanced club; part of the reason for that is that there were none in the Collingwood area when I was living there; a person had to get a little cosier with Toronto to find a population base capable of supporting an advanced club. Here in Calgary, with almost 70 clubs, the concept is not only attainable, but very desirable.
Now, some of you may consider an ‘Advanced Club’ as elitist, and you would be partially correct in that assumption; but only to a degree. In our typical local clubs we usually have a fairly diverse membership. We have a few people that have been participating for some time and are quite good. Then there are those who’ve been there a while, are beginning to get comfortable with the process, and their learning is taking off. Then there are the beginners, talented to be sure, but often a little nervous, and not quite sure of themselves. They look to the people with more experience for insight and reassurance. But, where do the experienced members look for the same thing?
An advanced club meeting is very much similar in nature to a regular club meeting. The main difference is that a little less emphasis is placed on the speaking portion of the meeting, and a little more on the evaluation and analysis segment. Every aspect of the meeting is evaluated, even the Impromptu speakers. In regular clubs you may hear complaints of evaluations being, ‘sugar-coated’, and, it’s true in many cases; but, what’s wrong with a little sugar coating if it helps the medicine go down? At an advanced club the members don’t want sugar; they want a mirror held up to their performance that reflects, not what they see, but how others perceive their efforts, and the fruit of those perceptions are the suggestions and criticism they receive as feedback. It isn’t just the members of the advanced club that benefit from this process; they in turn can take the benefit of these insights back to their regular club to share with the beginner and intermediate speakers.
When I arrived at ‘MVP’ Toastmasters I felt a little out of my depth. Why shouldn’t I? As a speaker I’d confined myself to the shallow end of the Toastmasters pool. As a farm boy, I never learned to swim well; the reason for that, of course, is that, when the weather was fit for swimming it was also fit for seeding, haying and all those other agricultural sports. I’m not saying that I can’t swim, I can; but ....just well enough to prolong a drowning!
My first ‘need’ was to find a ‘Life Guard’, and she appeared immediately behind the friendly, outstretched hand of Gerda Timm, the Lady putting the new club together. I was introduced to everyone, and a smiling confident bunch they certainly seemed. We had two speakers for the evening, one being the Divisional Winner of the International Speech Contest, who was doing a practise run for the District Contest just 48 hours before him. Our second speaker of the evening was a young Lady, and member of ‘MVP’ Toastmasters, who gave a very Humorous Speech on cell phones. The Divisional Contestant was treated to a 3-way, Tag Team evaluation, with each of the evaluators looking at one of the following areas; vocal variety, body language, and, I believe, content. He went away with about 9 minutes of insightful criticism for a five to seven minute speech.
My first, but certainly not last, impression of ‘MVP’ Toastmasters was that of very high standards, and a far ‘tighter field’ than what I’m used to in a club. Even better, the room was filled with friendly laughter from beginning to end, and that, to me, is one of the most important criteria for a learning environment. One thing, though, did give me some concern; that was the fact that they were willing to lower the club standard sufficiently to allow ‘yours truly’ to slip in as a Charter Member! Some people will do anything to Charter.
Table topics was quite interesting; they had only three participants, and there was an evaluator who evaluated each speaker. I was a little flabbergasted to be invited to participate, but tried to put on a brave face and struggle through. I was just explaining to the members that Alberta was a great place for a fellow with a Scots leaning; just look at the fine old Highland names on the towns. I used for example, Ft. MacLeod, and Calgary. I was surprised at the laughter, “Hmmm ....” thought I to myself, “they must think that I’m a’ funin’ them!”
Fort Calgary was built in 1875, and the following year was given its name by Colonel James MacLeod whose family owned a small Castle called “Calgary House”, located on Calgary Bay on the Isle of Mull at the northern end of Scotland. The name is believed to come from the Gaelic “Cala-ghearraidh”, or, “Beach of the Pasture”, as cattle were raised in that area of Mull. The name seems fitting, for, while I haven’t seen much beach, there’s no shortage of pasture in the area. Indeed, some consider Calgary to be Canada’s most Scottish city, with regards to the Scottish names applied to many of its communities and subdivisions.
Some of the names were established by historic Canadian Hero’s like Colonel MacLeod, many by the settler’s who followed in his tracks, and even more by the 1920’s real estate boom in Calgary when immigration from Scotland was encouraged by the advertising of lot’s for sale in subdivisions named with an eye to appealing to Highland hearts.
But why would anyone want to encourage the emigration of a group of rough hewn, haggis breathed pipers? Well, perhaps because the original Highlanders were a very determined, tenacious hardworking bunch that refused to bend to the will of any and all comers. They were the Caledonians of whom the Romans wrote, and were later to be loosely covered by the Latin, ‘Picti’, or simply, ‘Picts’. Back at the time of the hinge between the ‘BC’ and ‘AD’ eras they existed in the highlands as a loosely allied group of tribes, building their walls and Barouches, fashioning their jewellery and carvings, and occasionally going into battle with their neighbours. It took the might of the Roman legions to galvanize these tribes into something neither modern Scotland, nor the rest of the uncivilized world had seen before, nor would they ever see again; a tenacious, cohesive collaboration of the clans as a unified force.
Remember, I’m talking about Picts here, not the Scotti’s, who were Irish, and arrived as a small band from Ireland at about this time. The Romans took over Britain with relative ease. They then took over Wales. Finally they moved against the Caledonians/Picts, and in the end built three walls to keep these Barbarians from their gates. Three things horrified the Romans about this, their newest intended conquest: The men went into battle wearing little besides their shields and weapons. In defence of their land the Pictish women often joined their men, side by side, in battle. But I believe that what horrified the Romans the most was something which they had never experienced before; these barbarians simply would not stop.
“Picti”, they called them, or, “People of the tattoos”. My daughter, Allison, is a sweet young ‘Goth’ lady, and has a fascination for tattoos and piercings. I told her she came by this fetish naturally; that the Picts were very much into tattoos and piercings too! “I knew about the tattoos, Dad,” she said, “but I’ve never heard of the piercings!” “Well,” I explained, “they loved decorating their own bodies with tattoos; the piercings, which they loved as well, they reserved for the Roman soldiers!
There were three main reasons why the Picts went into battle nearly naked. First was the realization that almost any injury received in battle, in the absence of what we modern people call ‘hygiene’, and their lack of foresight in not inventing antibiotics, would almost certainly be mortal; the Pict warrior traded a negligible degree of protection for the advantage of increased flexibility and mobility. The second, more important, factor was that, if, in battle, the tide began to turn against you, you could easily outrun the enemy. Thirdly, and more important still, was that, if, in battle, the tide began to turn in your favour, you could still easily outrun your enemy!
If the Romans had never heard of the Picts before, the Picts would have surely heard of the Romans. There is much speculation as to where the Picts came from, and I’m going to try to skirt the issue rather than get myself mired down in it. Most of that side of Europe, at the time, was of Celtic. The Celts had crossed the channel from what is now Belgium and France, and formed the population of most of Britain at this time. In 387 BC a tribe of Celts known by the name of the ‘Senones’, under the rule of a man named, ‘Brannus’, had swept south to the Etruscan city of ‘Clusium’. They were met by a Roman army under the charge of a general named, ‘Quitus Sulpicus’, who was soundly defeated and retreated to the ‘Capitol Hill’ in Rome, and there remained under siege for seven months. Several times the Celts, whom the Romans called, ‘Galls,’ attacked the Capital, but were repulsed each time; the fortifications were just too strong.
The city of Rome was sacked and burned, along with the surrounding countryside. For seven months the Barbarians maurauded, while the remaining Romans starved within the ‘Capitol Hill’. Finally the Romans sued for peace, and the price demanded of them was, (reported amounts vary), 1000 lbs of gold. Arrangements were made but, when the time came for the official weighing, the Romans complained that the weight measures supplied by Brannus were not accurate! Brannus, unsympathetic at best, threw his sword on the scales and proclaimed, “Vae Victus”, or, “Woe to the vanquished!”
When we think of these ancient times we tend to believe that communication was meagre, and that everyone lived in isolation, and, while this is generally true, trade had been going on between all these countries for ages, mostly by simple traders travelling with as much expensive material as they could carry, or load into a small boat. Without doubt word of this rich spoil, and the rich society it was acquired from, would travel to all the corners of the Celtic world; if not verbatim, at least in the language of myth, poetry and song.
At the same time this indignity would certainly stick in Roman craws! Skirmishes with the Galls were an ongoing affair until about 60 BC, when Caesar undertook his 8 year venture to bring them under the Roman thumb. As an additional feather in his cap he twice invaded Britain; first in 55 BC, and then again in 54 BC. In neither case did it bring lasting territory, but as Tacitus wrote, “He revealed rather than bequeathed Britain to Rome”. In both incursions Caesar attempted to get information from the traders who regularly crossed the channel to Britain. They were not very forth coming, but, in each case word of the invasion got across the channel in sufficient time so as to allow some preparation on the part of the Britains.
Once revealed, Britain was a tempting prize, and everyone took a swipe at it. Even Caligula gathered an army and fleet in 40 AD and marched his men to the channel. Once there he ordered his men to attack the water, and then had them gather seashells as ‘booty of the sea’. I often think to myself, "somebody should have had a long talk with that boy!"
In the end it was Claudius in AD 43 who crossed the channel landing at what is now Kent, and, with several skirmishes, but losing few men, handed southern England to the Roman Empire. Wales put up a good battle, but even it was bent to Roman authority by AD 76. It wasn’t as if there was no resistance; in many cases there were popular uprisings, but these were all put down quickly and savagely.
One of the more impressive uprisings was led by a Britannic lady named ‘Boudicca’. Her Father had given fealty to the Romans. Upon his death he left half his Kingdom to the Romans, and half to his daughter. The Romans did not recognize inheritance by other than male lineage, and besides, Father had gotten himself deep into Roman debt. Bouticca’s claim on her heritage was thrown over, and as an example she was flogged, and her daughters raped by the Romans. A determined woman she went to war with the Romans, eventually raising an army estimated at 230,000, and sacking Colchester, St. Albany, and the newly established city of Londinium. No prisoners were taken, but it’s said that 80,000 lives were lost in the three cities, if not in battle, then by gibbet, fire or cross. Some of the Celtic Ladies do have a bit of a temper!
I’d like to say that Boudicca was successful, for her name translates as ‘Victory’, but such was not to be the case. The Romans, irritated by this blatant insubordination, gathered their legions, and met Boudicca and her supposed 230,000 followers in the battle of “Waiting St.” Although outnumbered the Romans maintained their military might and superior tactics; the terrain at the battle did not allow the Britains to take advantage of their superior numbers. As the army of Boudicca advanced, thousands were cut down by a wall of Roman javelins.
Boudicca rallied her followers, pronouncing that she had “Resolved to win or die in the attempt. If the men wished to live in slavery that was their choice”. When the Romans ran out of javelins they advanced in force against the already demoralized forces of Boudicca, who began a retreat. Unfortunately their retreat was blocked by the camps and wagons of their camp followers. What occurred next can only be described as a slaughter; Tacitus reported that that day, “Eighty thousand Britons fell, with the loss of a mere 400 Romans”. Boudicca herself died shortly after the battle; some say of illness, some say by poison taken by her own hand.
It was then that the avaricious Roman turned their covetous eyes to the north, and the Highlands of what we now know as Scotland. No doubt there had been, up to this point, contact with the Caledonians/Picts, and many small skirmishes between the two cultures; but there had as yet to be a major confrontation. The Picts, aware of the might of the Roman legions, preferred to avoid major battles, and chose instead to fight a guerrilla war, retreating in the face of massed forces.
Between AD 70 and AD 80 the Romans had erected what came to be known as the Gask Ridge Wall, or the ‘Glen Forts’; not really a wall, but a series of Forts and signal towers covering the boundary between Scotland’s Highland zones in Perthshire and Angus. It was a general named Agricola who led the first massed army of four legions, with 15,000 men, into the heart of the Highlands. The Caledonians/Picts forces, consisting of 30,000 men and women retreated before them until they reached the sight of ‘Mons Graupius’; here they realized that the Roman’s intended to march until they reached the Caledonian granaries, just filled with the harvest of the season. To flee further would mean starvation for the coming winter; they had no choice but to stand and fight. In the following battle the Romans reported 10,000 Caledonian/Picts died, the rest fleeing to the surrounding woods, pursued by the relentless invaders.
The Picts learned a valuble lesson that day; a lesson that was to serve them well for the next 800 years. Never, before or since, had the highlanders stood together as a cohesive, determined military force. Now, with their observations of what the Romans had done to the rest of Britain, and still smarting from the loss at ‘Mons Graupus’, they realized that in order to remain a free society, they must mount a unified defence against the invaders.
Good fences don’t always make good neighbours!
For 40 years the two sides sparred, until the Roman general, Hadrian, again tried to capture territory in the Highland. He was repulsed and retreated to roughly what is now known as Scotland’s southern border, and here he ordered a wall built; a wall that stretched from one side of the island to the other. Hadrian’s Wall stretched 73.5 miles across the borderlands; made of square cut stone and standing 16 to 20 feet tall, it was protected on its northern face by a ditch, or moat, and that buffered by a berm. It was built with ‘mile castles’ every mile, and stone watch towers every 539 yards. 14 to 17 full sized forts, each manned by 500 to 1000 soldiers, bolstered this man made obstacle, and Calvary troops were stationed at either end for rapid deployment. A total of a minimum 10,000 men guarded the wall, with the number often reaching more than 20,000 in times of difficulty.
In 142 AD The Romans decided to advance their territory towards the Highlands. In order to implement this move they decided to build the Antonion Wall approximately100 miles north of the Hadrian wall, with the view of this replacing the Hadrian wall altogether. The wall itself was 40 miles long and built of turf rather than stone. Because of the resistance brought about by the Pictish tribes the Antonion Wall had a much higher concentration of forts than did its forbear. Completed in just two years, this wall was used for about 20 years, and then abandoned with the troops falling back to the Hadrian Wall. Over the next three centuries the wall was occasionally re-occupied, but generally it was Hadrian’s Wall which established a boundary between the Romans and the Picts.
In AD 208 Septimus Severus with an army of 20,000, following the route left by Agricola before him once again set out to subdue the Highlands. Over the course of a year, losing many men to guerlla tactics, and held up by the unforgiving terrain, he finally sued for a truce, a truce he was willing to pay for, in order to get his troops back to the safty of Hadrian’s Wall. In the negotiations his wife, Julia Domina, is said to have made slurring comments concerning the dress and morality of the Pictish women, to the wife of the Pictish tribal leader. The wife in question, Argentocoxos, is said, in what is one of the earliest recorded quotes from a Pict, to have replied; “We consort openly with the best of men, while you allow yourselves to be debauched in private by the worst!”
In spite of losing many battles, the Picts never turned over their land to the Romans. In the ensuing 300 years they never ceased attacking the Walls. That in the 400’s Hadrian’s wall was abandoned by the Roman’s, I’d like to attribute entirely to the ferocity of the Pictish raiders, but it was mainly due to the decline of Roman power, and too many hostilities on other fronts. Still, all else in Britain was handed over to the Romans; only the Picts resisted to the end. What kind of people does it require three massive walls to keep out!
So, new Calgarian neighbours, should you wake some misty foothills morning to see me, naked and tattooed, sword in hand, clambering over your garden wall ....don’t worry about it in the least! What you should worry about is my daughter, Allison, on my left, and my wife, Julie, on my right! You’ll recognize them easily; they’ll both be swinging battle axes!
James P.A. Mackay
