“Australia Day is, of course, an artificial fabrication designed by governments, the corporate world, media, Australia Day Councils and smug Anglo-Saxons to ensure that we forget real history.
“That Anglo-Saxon smugness is a resilient child of hypocrisy and racism. The mawkish jingoism, the noisy triumphalism and trumped-up nationalism lead to the xenophobia that treats our humanity as something special and beyond the humanity of others who are not of these shores or of those, the original owners, who live within our shores but have been relegated as relics of history, beyond imagination.”
Thus spake Peter Gebhardt in the Sydney Morning Herald, 26/1/2012.
There is nothing new in Gebhardt’s 2012 views. On Australia Day 2011 he was busy denouncing White Australians as “the usurpers” on this continent, and deriding our constitutional monarchy as dependence on “the regal pantomine in England”. (Note that he wrote “England”, not even “United Kingdom”: such is the strength of his Anglophobia.)
Gebhardt is a retired judge of the County Court of Victoria. Before that he was headmaster of Geelong College for 10 years, “leaving the school in 1985 after a disagreement with the school council” (according to The Age, 2/6/2003). He now writes books of poetry, sometimes illustrated by and introduced by Aborigines.
It therefore goes without saying that Gebhardt is a darling of the Anglophobic Age/SMH/ABC crowd. If he had slandered any other ethnic group with a negative adjective such as “smug”, Gebhardt would have been roundly denounced by those who currently praise him. Alas, it seems that in today’s Australia, putting the boot into Anglo-Saxons is a sure path to praise in certain circles.
Here is an extract from one of Gebhardt’s Anglophobic poems:
Forget the ancestral trespassers,
The heritage forbears,
The gin and bitters people,
They didn’t ask,
They just used their guns
Across the waters,
Across the sands,
Across the plains,
Across the hills.
No decision-time then,
As the map was bloodied
To imperial pink.
In this bit of trite racial hatred, Anglo-Saxons are depicted as “trespassers” and alcoholic murderers. We will leave it to readers to decide on this work’s poetic merit – if any.
Professor Henry Reynolds, born in 1938, is typical of too many historians of his generation. He has dedicated his life to the service of people who are not his own people. The Israelis have a term for Jews who, like Henry, seem to be ashamed of their own culture: they call such people “self-hating Jews”. Read the rest of this entry »
The current Australian multicultural establishment likes to insist that we need to import people from non-traditional source countries because our traditional British Isles founding culture was somehow “boring”. To back up their position they point to immigrants from exotic parts of the world who dress up in colourful ethnic costumes and sing or perform songs from their native countries.
Of course, since 1788 British migration to Australia was always “multicultural”, incorporating as it did all the various regional cultures of the British Isles.
The BAC has therefore begun to compile a list of famous British Isles songs to demonstrate the fact that the first British settlers in this continent brought with them a superb and diverse musical and “folk” tradition of our own. (Even including strange costumes!)
All the songs below are well-known, but in some cases we have chosen versions that are somewhat unusual, for one reason or another.
Obviously, some of these songs reflect old hostilities between different factions or cultures within the British Isles a long time ago. We certainly don’t wish to prolong those ancient feuds. However, we think it’s fair to highlight the cultural pride that our ancestors demonstrated in their own music.
All of the British Isles
26 January 1788 – the first British child is born on Australian soil. Father was Sgt Thomas Whittle of the marines.
25 April 1915 – White British Empire troops land at Gallipoli in first large-scale concerted military action.
9 May 1901 – Duke of Cornwall and York (later George V) opens first
Australian parliament in Melbourne.
12 May 1835 – John Batman founds the most successful British settlement in
13 May 1787 – First Fleet leaves from Plymouth – 750 convicts, 212 marines,
plus sailors, civilians and wives.
31 July 1914 – On outbreak of WW1 leaders of both Australian political
parties pledge support to Britain – “to our last man and our last shilling”,
according to PM Andrew Fisher.
5 August 1914 – Australia fires first shot in defence of the white Empire –
from Fort Nepean, near Melbourne.
22 August 1770 – James Cook claims Oz for Britain.
19 November 1834 – First permanent British settlement in Victoria –
25 November 1803 – First British child born in Victoria – Robert Hobart
23 December 1901 – Immigration Restriction Act legislates for a “White” (=
mainly British) Australia.
a quintessential English instrument
The recorder is a member of the flute family of woodwind musical instruments. Prehistoric flutes made from animal and bird bones have been discovered in Europe dating from up to 60,000 years ago. They are the earliest attested melodical instruments – although it is likely that prehistoric percussion instruments, such as two sticks banged together, may have preceded them.
Prehistoric flutes were very simple in appearance, but were able to play sophisticated tunes. In the video that is linked to below, a reproduction of a prehistoric flute is used to play haunting renditions of Beethoven’s “Song of Joy”, Dvořák’s “New World Symphony”, and various other comparatively modern pieces:
The ancient Greeks and Romans had their various forms of flute, which are depicted in the paintings and referred to in the literature of that period. Likewise, the northern Europeans had their own flutes. The sound of a Viking-era bone-flute with only three finger-holes has been attempted here:
An Iron Age predecessor of the type of flute known as a recorder was found in West Yorkshire and is now in the Leeds Museum. The modern instrument is essentially an open tube of an established length, with nine finger-holes drilled in it. At the top end there is a “windway” into which the player breathes. This forces air over a “fipple”, or wedge-shaped notch, causing the airflow to vibrate. The actual notes that sound are determined by the number of holes that are covered by the player’s fingers.
By the Renaissance, recorders were often played in “sets” or “consorts” of three, four or five different sizes, the shorter tubes producing notes in a higher range and the longer ones producing deeper tones. Only one complete early set survives anywhere in the world, in the museum of Chester. This is fitting, for as The Oxford Companion to Music comments, “The [modern] recorder may have been of English origin, and the English instruments were famous on the Continent.” Praetorius in 1619 describes eight different sizes of recorder, and Mersenne in 1636 adds a ninth, even longer, instrument which needed pedals to operate the lowest notes.
By the time of Henry VIII, who became king in 1509, English musicians were experts in the recorder. Henry’s father is twice reported to have paid the princely sum of 20 shillings to recorder players. Henry himself was a virtuoso player and composer who owned a collection of seventy-six recorders. Other composers who wrote for the recorder included Handel (four sonatas), Purcell and Telemann. Two of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos employ the recorder, which was at that time usually called, simply, the “flute”. (Later it became necessary to distinguish between the “flute” that we call a recorder today and the transverse “flute” that led to the modern orchestral instrument of that name. They were then sometimes spoken of as the English flute and the German flute.)
Our great national poet, Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1343 – 1400) refers to his Squire as “syngynge or floytinge al the day”, and given the way the word was used at that time the Squire seems to have been playing a recorder. Other authors who mention the instrument in their works include John Milton, Samuel Pepys and William Shakespeare. The latter may have been present at the great reception for Elizabeth I at Kenilworth in 1575, at which recorder music was prominent. Shakespeare mentions the instrument in Act 5 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and introduces it on stage in Act 3 of Hamlet.
On April 8, 1668, the great diarist of the Restoration period, Samuel Pepys, wrote: “[I went] To Dumbleby’s, and did there talk a great deal about pipes, and did buy a recorder, which I intend to learn to play on, the sound of it being of all sounds in the world, most pleasing to me.” This level of praise may seem puzzling to any modern reader who might have had a bad experience of the instrument in primary school. The solution must be found in the context in which recorders were used in earlier times.
For instance, the Australian writer J.S. Manifold, in his 1956 book The music in English drama, from Shakespeare to Purcell, proved that during that period the recorder was used onstage only to signify something divine or numinous. As A. Rowland-Jones summarised, “ … the recorder, with its ethereal and solemn tone, was used almost exclusively in ‘other-world’ contexts – scenes of death, miracles, unearthly joy, or to denote the presence of a Christian or pagan deity. This connotation persisted into the Restoration period, for Pepys provides evidence that the recorder was used in a revival of Massinger’s Virgin Martyr for ‘the wind-music when the angel comes down’. Dryden calls for recorders in Albion and Albanius (1685), an entertainment with many machinefuls of gods in it, and Blow in Venus and Adonis (1685) uses recorders only in connexion with the gods in the opera, and never to accompany the mortals.” i
Given the formerly immense popularity of the recorder in its heyday of about 1500 to 1700, it is legitimate to ask why the instrument declined in status so drastically that it almost became extinct.
As always, there were several factors, but the main one was the rise of the symphony orchestra. The “recorder”, or “English flute”, or “flute d’Angleterre”, was not loud enough to be heard above all the other orchestral instruments. Toward the end of the 19th century it seemed that this quintessential English instrument would soon become extinct. Fortunately, the late-Victorian and Edwardian revival of interest in folk music occurred just in time. (Readers who are grateful for this should pay particular respect to Arnold Dolmetsch, a French-born, but Anglicised, member of a musical instrument-making family.)
Unfortunately the path of revival is never simple. In the early 20th century the Germans also rediscovered the “English flute”, and they thought it might be a good instrument to introduce primary-school children to music. They were right in the sense that very early progress on the instrument is easy, therefore gratifying. To get beyond that stage is increasingly difficult. Therefore the Germans came up with what they thought was a “simplified” form of fingering. Although this didn’t work, it was still printed as an alternative fingering in recorder books as recent as the 1980s – and therefore was still confusing both teachers and their pupils for another generation.
Today, recorder-players are still re-discovering the techniques for playing this quintessential English instrument. For instance, the author of this article has three separate books stating that the lowest note possible on the descant recorder is C. That is not true. Modern players have discovered that the B below low-C can be played by half-covering the end-hole of the instrument against the player’s thigh. See:
i A. Rowland-Jones, Recorder Technique, Oxford University Press, London, 1959, p.4
1. A Girl from the Golden Age
A young mother sits by the riverbank. Behind her the rain-forest rings with the calls of gaudy tropical birds. The baby at her breast is suddenly startled by a movement in the muddy river. His tiny hand reaches out, ﬁngers splayed. Following his gaze, she squints through the glare, always alert to potential danger. Then she gives him a wide, reassuring smile, tossing her blonde locks back over her shoulder. The disturbance among the reeds was just a hippopotamus, sporting in the shallows. Reassured by her smile, the baby’s cornﬂower-blue eyes droop, and once more he nuzzles against her.
At a safe distance, the infant’s father is chipping ﬂakes from a piece of ﬂint. He is making a scraper. One day its razor-sharp edge will shave the ﬂesh from an animal hide. After that, the old people of the tribe will knead the skin into supple leather. When it has been smoked over a ﬁre to stop it stiffening when wet, it will make a wonderfully soft shawl to stave of those increasingly chilly winter nights.
Further away still, in front of his own hut, one of the tribal elders is entertaining a circle of youths with mythic tales about the origin of their clan. Or are they stories of great heroes and long-dead hunters? His recitation is interspersed with songs that are now irretrievable, and his fair beard moves just like … Well, let’s say, perhaps just like the beard of an Elizabethan Englishman.
Unfortunately, we’ll never know the full details. A scene something like this occurred beside the River Thames, just downstream from modern London, in the very warm period between the second and third ice ages in Europe. The second (“Mindel”) ice age is thought to have ended about 435,000 years ago, and the third (“Riss”) ice age started perhaps 230,000 years ago. At some time between these eras, a young person died. Anthropologists think that she was female, and about twenty years old. She is referred to as Swanscombe Woman. She is also the earliest-known human being.
The only evidence that she existed is a few fossilised bones from her skull. They were found between 1935 and 1955 in a gravel pit near Dartford in Kent. The greatest anthropologist of the 20th century, Carleton Coon, speculating on these relics, said that they were undeniably human: Homo sapiens. A scientiﬁc conference held in 1962 officially concluded that she was a modern human. A cast taken from the inside of the skull proved that her brain was indistinguishable from those of our recent British or Northern European ancestors.
This earliest identiﬁed English lass probably lived at some time in the Mindel-Riss Interglacial, between about 435,000 and 230,000 years ago. Her relics were found in a 100-foot stratum of the Thames estuary, together with the remains of various animals of the period. Scientiﬁc tests, such as the degree of fossilisation of the bones, conﬁrm this dating. Yet although she lived so long ago, experts have established that her brain capacity was at least 1,270 cc: close to average for a modern European woman.
What did Swanscombe look like?
Reconstructions of the missing parts of her skull suggest that she looked like the much more recent Cro-Magnon people, who were the ancestors of modern north Europeans. They have been described as “… strikingly handsome, fully human, physically superior to most human beings of modem times. The men were well over six feet in height. They had had high foreheads, prominent cheekbones, ﬁrm chins. Tall, powerful, splendidly shaped, these ancestral ﬁgures seemed like titans out of some forgotten, golden age of mankind.”  Less romantically, perhaps, “… a Cro-Magnon man from Europe might well be mistaken for a modern Swede if he walked down the street in Stockholm today.” 
What evidence is there for the colour of her hair, skin and eyes?
Psychologist Stan Gooch has written extensively on early humans, arguing that Cro-Magnons must have had fair hair and light eyes . Of course, we can’t be absolutely certain even about Swanscombe’s skin colour, but it is known that pale skin helps to synthesise vitamin D at high latitudes, and for this reason Roger Lewin sums up the prevailing view when he writes that “… long before [Cro-Magnon] times, all European populations would have been white.”  The genes for light pigmentation in modern north-Europeans seem to have been passed down to us from our Cro-Magnon ancestors, who in turn presumably received them from their own forebears.
What else can we know about Swanscombe?
Both her cranial capacity, and the impressions left by the brain tissue and blood vessels on the inside of her skull, indicate that she was about as intelligent as we are. The tools used by people of her cultural group suggest that they wore fur clothes. From a site at Terra Amata, near Nice, we learn that they lived in oval huts about 12 by 6 metres in size . Their food included shellﬁsh, elephant, deer, pig, goat and rhinoceros . Jeffrey Laitman of the Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York has observed that the human vocal tract requires the base of the skull to be arched, and concludes that the capacity for modern speech existed 300,000 years ago. Therefore Swanscombe probably talked to her family and friends – although we may never know more about their language.
What can be learned about the lifestyle of that period?
The climate was warm, and all sorts of game abounded. Fire was used for cooking. Studies of contemporary stone-age tribes show that a full day’s food can be obtained in about two hours of foraging. With less pressure of population, and larger game animals available, the ancient Swanscombe people should have had even more time for social and ritual activities. Although spears were used for hunting, no evidence from this period hints at the existence of warfare. Nor is there any trace of commercial trade. Without the redistribution that a market economy creates, there is little need for a social hierarchy. We may therefore assume that Swanscombe society was egalitarian.
What became of Swanscombe’s people?
About 230,000 years ago, the third ice age began to tighten on Europe. As the weather gradually grew colder, the food sources drifted south. In their wake, people slowly abandoned northern Europe. The ice sheets spread inexorably, and the descendants of Swanscombe Woman were forced to withdraw to the Mediterranean countries, and even beyond – to north Africa, the Middle East and Eurasia. The glaciers covered most of Britain and northern Europe for about 50,000 years. When the ice ﬁnally began to melt, the remote ancestors of modem British people returned.
2. When the North Wind Blew
It was a world completely unlike the one we know. A huge ice sheet, kilometres thick, spread out from Scandinavia, burying Europe, Russia and north America until all the northlands resembled today’s Antarctica. Howling winds blew down from the glaciers to the tundra below. Here, a whole belt of the northern hemisphere was sunk in permafrost. Musk-ox, reindeer and arctic fox struggled to survive in this treeless, sodden wilderness. Much further south, starting in protected regions, the tundra shaded into a marginal world of steppe grasslands.
Bison painting from Altamira
Environments like these were typical of the four ice ages that are known to have gripped the northern hemisphere, one after another, for tens of thousands of years at a time. Between these eras of intense cold, the weather in Britain could be warmer than it is now. During one such period, about 230,000 to 435,000 years ago, Britain and northern Europe were inhabited by modern humans like Swanscombe Woman, “sweet as English air could make her”. Then, when the cold conditions returned, her descendants followed the retreating grasslands south and east.
This was the “Riss” ice age. It lasted until perhaps 180,000 years ago. Then, painfully slowly, inch by inch, the glaciers began to withdraw, until after untold centuries there was life in the north once again. Hesitant tribes of our ancestors started drifting back into the lands where Swanscombe’s people had once sunbathed beside tropical rivers.
Very few physical remains of the people who lived and died in this “Riss-Wurm” interglacial period have been discovered. In 1947, G. Henri-Martin excavated a cave in the French valley of Fontechevade. There he found fragments of two human skulls, completely covered by a layer of stalagmite from what had been the cave’s ceiling. They can be reliably dated by the remains of fauna and the stone tools found with them. H. V. Vallois, the French anthropologist who has studied these relics most thoroughly, concludes that there is no difference between them and modern humans . He is also certain that they are part of the same branch of humanity as Swanscombe. The cranial capacity of Fontechevade was about 1460 cc., and the cephalic index was 79. (These measurements correspond closely with those of modem north Germans.)
Until this fortunate discovery, only Neanderthals were supposed to have inhabited Europe during the Riss-Wurm interglacial.
Neanderthal bones were ﬁrst found in a quarried cave in western Germany in 1856. They were originally thought to have been the remains of a diseased Mongolian who had crawled into the cave to die during the Napoleonic wars. After other remains had been discovered elsewhere, the eminent French palaeontologist, Marcellin Boule, concluded that these Neanderthals were not properly human at all, but an extinct off-shoot of the human family tree. Their brains were large, but with a primitive surface and small frontal lobes. Richard Klein of the University of Chicago sums up contemporary opinion of genetic relations between the two groups: Neanderthals “… contributed few if any genes to modern populations.” 
Other than Fontechevade, only tools testify to the presence of our own ancestors in Britain or northern Europe until the coming of the Cro-Magnons. They began to enter during a warmer break in the last (“Wurm”) ice age, maybe as early as 80,000 years ago, trekking after the woolly mammoth and rhinoceros. There they presumably encountered the Neanderthals. What a contrast they must have made!
Neanderthals were short, ugly, chinless and ape-like. Traces of rickets have been found in many Neanderthal bones, indicating either dark skin or inadequate diet. Meanwhile, the deﬁnitive Cro-Magnon “…was nearly six foot tall, powerfully built, with a narrow, craggy skull, wide face, square jaw, strong chin and high-bridged nose”  The two species seem to have followed their own life-styles and their own destinies. Neanderthals discovered no new techniques, and didn’t adopt the advanced tools of their Cro-Magnon neighbours, like chisels, needles and awls, bone spearheads, and spear throwers. Neanderthals also seem to have been violent by nature. Almost all their remains show broken bones and massive injuries caused by spear wounds. Yet not one has been found killed by Cro-Magnon tools. Few Neanderthals lived much more than thirty years, whereas Cro-Magnons survived well into their ﬁfties.
The Neanderthals became extinct about 35,000 years ago – too soon to witness the amazing changes that our ancestors were to introduce into their bleak, snow-covered world. By 23,000 years ago, a boomerang made from mammoth tusk was in use near what is now Cracow in Poland . Bows and arrows were to follow, invented by some unsung genius in Germany to bring down reindeer. Bone ﬂutes and whistles appeared from France across to Russia between 20,000 and 30,000 years ago. During this period the human population of Europe may have been about 350,000, plus another 80,000 for Russia. After another twelve millennia, this ﬁgure perhaps climbed to 950,000, plus another 15,000 in Scandinavia .
Although they have been hailed as the most successful hunters of all time, the greatest achievement of the European Cro-Magnon people was to be their art, one of the most glorious triumphs of all human endeavour. In the deepest recesses of their caves these nameless masters ground pigments out of minerals, clay, and charcoal. From simple, static outlines, they quickly learned to use several colours, then to make brushes from chewed twigs, and palettes from bones. In an astonishingly short time they were creating the realistic, unsurpassed masterpieces familiar to us all from cave galleries such as Altamira and Lascaux. At last, in keeping with the restless energy of these people, they stripped the details of their compositions down to the underlying abstract rhythms.
One of the earliest major artworks discovered so far was painted about 28,000 years ago . The greatest masterpieces were created at the very height of the last ice age, about 17,000 years ago, many thousands of years before people in Egypt or the middle east were to take their ﬁrst crude steps toward any form of culture. Meanwhile, as we shall see, those of our ancestors who had remained outside the frontiers of Europe were beginning their own startling voyage of intellectual and physical discovery.
3. Children of the Sun
For half a million years the British Isles were attached to the European continent. During the last ice age large parts were uninhabitable, but gradually the ice sheets began to withdraw towards Scotland, finally melting away about 9,000 years ago, leaving behind them a tundra that extended from the west coast of Ireland right across to Siberia.
Below what is now the North Sea was a huge low-lying area of fenland, abounding in birds, deer, aurochs, fish and shellfish. This land of plenty was the heartland of our Mesolithic ancestors. If they set their faces to the dawn, they would eventually straggle across their rich fens to the marginal terrains of France, the Low Countries, northern Germany and Scandinavia. Following the setting sun they could trek to the sparsely populated new land that was to become Britain.
Stonehenge, John Constable, 1835
Some of the Children of the Sun did just that. We even have names for the culture-groups that criss-crossed the North Sea plain in those times. But most of them would have seen no reason to leave their fertile homeland. 
About 9,000 years ago the sea waters began to rise. Over time the teeming fens of our ancestors were inundated, until the North Sea and the Channel assumed their present forms. Most archaeological traces have been swept slowly away or are lost 30 or 40 meters below the sea. A few implements occasionally dredged up from the Dogger Bank are all that remain of this idyll in our history.
Forced to withdraw to higher lands, our ancestors maintained their generalized northwest European civilization for as long as the new habitats permitted. Those who were stranded in Yorkshire continued the culture known from sites like Star Carr and Flixton I, which are indistinguishable from the Duvensee cultural complex of north Germany. At Star Carr perhaps four families lived in an area of about 240 sq. meters, sleeping on birch twig mattresses beside a lake in the Vale of Pickering. Their animal neighbours included red and roe deer, aurochs, pigs and two breeds of domesticated dog.
A remarkable find at Star Carr was the front part of the skull of a red deer, with antlers still attached. Two eye-holes had been drilled in the bone, turning it into a horned mask. This sacred object was used in some forgotten religious rite, midway in time between the antlered “shaman” figures of cave art and the Horn Dancers of modern Abbots Bromley. It also takes us forward to the neolithic tombs around the great sun temple at Stonehenge, when burials were often accompanied by deer antlers and ox skulls.
Farming of wheat and barley in Britain seems to have begun about 6,700 years ago. Within a very short time the dense oak woods were being cleared for the grazing of cattle and sheep. But long before that, three massive tree trunks were erected at Stonehenge, aligned to the midsummer sunset. Radiocarbon dates from posthole A suggest an age of about 10,100 years. At this time the midsummer sun would have set on “the exact bearing of Post A from the centre of the monument.”  Given that the current sarsen (sandstone) monument was built some 6,000 years later, this is evidence of a remarkable religious continuity.
The solar religion of our ancestors was practiced on both sides of the Channel. By at least 5,500 years ago, eight centuries before the Egyptian stone Pyramids, huge collective tombs had been built in every region bordering the old submerged homeland: in Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, Holland, Germany, Denmark and Sweden. These were astonishing achievements for people without metal tools. Colin Renfrew is right to stress: “There are no stone-built monuments anywhere approaching them in antiquity”,  but even he fails to do them full justice. One of the best known is Maes Howe on Orkney. An entrance passage, oriented to the midwinter sunset and formed of seven-metre slabs, leads to a central burial chamber with a corbelled roof, flanked by three smaller side chambers. The buttressed stone walling of this vault is a brilliant showpiece of the neolithic mason’s skill.
Another outstanding type of sacred monument is the artificial mound, constructed until recent times in Scotland as ”harvest hills.” The greatest is Silbury, a mile from the celebrated West Kennett long barrow. This enormous ziggurat was begun one late summer day (as we know from pollen analysis) around 4,800 years ago. When completed it stood 40 meters high, with a flat top 30 meters across. Containing 250,000 cubic metres of chalk, it took perhaps 20 million manhours to construct — an unparalleled act of piety if, as Aubrey Burl calculates, the immediate community numbered no more than 400 to 500 peoples. 
The only comparison is Stonehenge. Sometime around 4,250 years ago, 82 large blue-stones, each weighing four tons, together with 40 lintels, were brought to the site from the sacred mountain of Carn Meini in Pembrokeshire, 217 kilometres away. These were erected in a circle, in radial pairs, spoke-like, in a massive symbol of the sun. The design was then amended and the bluestones moved aside. Seventy-five huge sarsens were hauled from near the even larger sacred complex at Avebury and raised in the formation familiar to us today. Then, about 4,000 years ago, the bluestones were re-erected inside the sarsens.
Who were the People whose devotion to their faith led them to spend centuries building these monuments designed to last for eternity?
A similar physical type prevailed throughout the British Isles. Adult males averaged 5’7″ (171 cm). Women were usually shorter.  These were slender people with refined features and long, narrow skulls like their Cro-Magnon ancestors. The population was quite youthful. From a site in Orkney it appears that nearly half were in their twenties. Many of them suffered from arthritis, the scourge of the era. Hardly any had dental caries. We know they ate well: sometimes less than a quarter of the meat was removed from slaughtered cattle.
Their society was more egalitarian than any social order known to history. For thousands of years they lived peacefully, at first in separate family houses, typically 5 meters in diameter, later in massive timber roundhouses which could have housed up to 50 smaller families. The pattern of burials suggests that gender inequality was unknown until late in the period. At Quanterness, “young as well as old were represented in the tomb and women as well as men, in approximately equal numbers.”  Lack of specialized occupations would have made class divisions unthinkable. Until the transition to the Bronze Age there is little indication of any hostilities. Even Burl, clinging to an outmoded view of the brutishness of neolithic life, can list only seven cases in which the cause of death may have been human aggression. These deaths might equally have been due to hunting accidents. There is no evidence of warfare.
Estimates of population vary. Castleden’s calculations suggest a total population of 1 million to 1.5 million. This is a surprising figure. The entire British population just before Henry Vlll’s reign is thought to have been no more than 4 million. If both these estimates are correct, then later warlike invaders, racially related but speaking lndo-European languages, could have had little impact on the total gene pool. If so, the faces of the Children of the Sun must reappear today in the features of our own British children.
4. Bell beakers and wild honey
One of the great mysteries in British archaeology began in 1849. In this year John Thurnam, a young doctor, discovered in a hospital museum two skulls that had been excavated from a megalithic grave mound. These timeworn skulls impressed Dr Thurnam so much that he went on to become one of the leading archaeologists of his time.
Thurnam’s own excavations showed that after the long barrows of the neolithic and megalithic periods, a new form of burial began to appear in Britain. The people previously buried had been uniformly slender, with reﬁned features and long, narrow skulls like their Cro-Magnon ancestors. The newer style of barrow, which was round in shape, contained people who had been taller, heavier-boned, and rounder-skulled than their predecessors. Because distinctive bell-shaped drinking cups were frequently placed in their graves, these people became known as the Beaker Folk. Who they were, and what they were doing in Britain, is a mystery that is still unfolding today.
Young woman with bell beaker
Vanished tribes and ancient, eroded tombs often have a mysterious appeal that causes people to project their own romantic dreams on to the spider-haunted past. The Beaker Folk have long proven to be a magnet for strange speculations. Since relatively little is still known about them, it has been possible for writers to interpret the evidence in ways designed to advance their own cultural or political causes.
One of the most inﬂuential prehistorians of the 20th century was the Australian Marxist, V. Gordon Childe. In 1925 Childe published The Dawn of European Civilization, which set out his theory that all culture developed in the Middle East, and only later spread into Europe. Childe’s position was made very clear in a 1958 paper , in which he argued that European prehistory was nothing but the story of “the irradiation of European barbarism by Oriental civilization”.
For several decades this became the standard view, and it was projected onto the mysterious Beaker Folk. The impression given in many older histories is that they arrived in Britain as noble warriors and traders about 4,000 years ago, set themselves up as a ruling elite, systematically destroyed the indigenous religion in favour of their own – whatever that may have been – and taught the locals how to use metal, thus ushering in the early Bronze Age.
According to a 1967 account , “…the Beaker Folk would step ashore, proud strangers in ﬁne woven coats, carrying quivers of arrows on their backs and gleaming bronze daggers at their sides.” They “… must have seemed outlandish to many of the … peasants [sic] whom they passed among” . They were “… energetic conquerors ruthlessly dispossessing the Neolithic communities of their best pastures, and also no doubt of their herds, and sometimes of their women”. By 1973 these bringers of light into the allegedly dark world of Britain had even been transformed into inter-planetary space travellers .
We now know that hardly any of this was true. Radiocarbon and other modern dating methods have disproved the idea that anything worthy in our prehistoric past came from the middle east. We know that our megalithic tombs are the oldest stone monuments in the world. We know that our ancestors had a well-developed solar religion that expressed itself – among other ways – in exquisite sacred architecture. We know that this religion lasted for at least 6,000 years. We know that our ancestors had no concept of class or gender inequality. It has even been suggested that they were in the process of developing their own form of writing . We know that the British population at the time may have been l million to 1.5 million. Yet in the 1950s and ’60s, textbook after textbook asked us to believe that the high civilisation of our ancestors was overwhelmed by a bunch of plundering rapists from the east.
The picture that is now emerging suggests that the Beaker folk probably arrived in a few small, peaceful groups. Fragments of beakers have been found in the very last stages of construction of the sacred complex at Avebury, indicating that the newcomers helped in its building. They seem to have blended in well. Harding  points out that: “Other aspects of Neolithic life evidently continued unabated, or even enhanced by Beaker-using communities.” Renfrew  ﬂatly rejects any concept of a Bell Beaker “invasion”.
These scattered immigrants were probably of the physical type that some ethnologists call Dinaric. People of this stock are common today in the Balkans and the Tyrol. As Baker  points out, they are often fair. Their physical impact on the British population was negligible. Some relict individuals with skulls similar to those of the Beaker Folk were studied in the 1930s in Angus, Kincardine and Aberdeenshire . They didn’t look at all “foreign”.
What of the claim that the Beaker Folk introduced metallurgy to the British Isles? Experiments by Richard Thomas of the University of Wales suggest that early Bronze Age tools in Britain were smelted using a simple bonﬁre-type process, and that there were no signiﬁcant changes in the methods of metal-working around the time of the Beaker settlements. Reviewing the recent evidence, Paul Budd  concluded, “I am sure that Beaker Culture metallurgists from the Rhineland never stalked the [British] countryside in search of ores to make [metal artefacts]”.
Then what impact did the Beaker Folk have on our heritage? It has occasionally been suggested that they may have brought the ﬁrst Indo-European language to the islands of the North Atlantic. If so, as Mallory  tersely comments, it was “… not one that evolved into anything for which we have evidence”. There is, however, one hint as to why these newcomers were apparently accepted and even welcomed. Burl  argues that they may have been masters of the art of fermenting honey with wild yeast to make mead. He cites evidence that a beaker found in a Scottish grave contained residue of lime-honey, as well as the herb meadowsweet, which would have given the powerful alcoholic drink “an agreeable taste and smell”.
As Marxist ideology has waned, younger archaeologists have debunked the myths fabricated about the Beaker Folk. They didn’t look very different from the rest of the British population. There were few of them. And all that we can be sure they added to the high culture of our ancestors was a new type of wine cup.
5. Age of Iron
At the end of the last Ice Age sea levels rose, ﬂooding the fertile and abundant North Sea Plain under a shoreless foam. Our ancestors were forced to spread out into the harsher lands of Britain, north-western Europe, and Scandinavia. There, they continued to live in peace and equality. Yet by the ﬁrst millennium BC the Atlantic culture that had lasted so long was about to be shattered.
Nomadic descendants of our ancestors had also moved far across Europe, penetrating the Russian steppes, Central Asia, Siberia – and perhaps even reaching the Americas . For reasons that are still obscure, this contact with Asia traumatised their culture.
From about 5000 years ago, in the Volga region northwest of the Caspian Sea, we begin to see the emergence of a socially stratified and militaristic society, often known as the Kurgan or Corded Ware culture. As this society expanded, stone-built defensive ramparts came to be needed (as at Mikhailovka on the Dnieper). Battle axes were buried in rich graves, along with wagon wheels, and silver, gold and copper implements. The people who were interred are presumed to be the ﬁrst known speakers of Indo-European languages.
Statue of Vercingetorix, Burgundy, France, 1865
We know what they looked like. Hundreds of burials from southern Russia have been excavated. The people “… are predominantly characterized as late Cro-Magnons with more massive and robust features than the gracile Mediterranean peoples of the [Balkans]. With males averaging about 172 centimetres in height they are a fairly tall people within the context of Neolithic populations.” 
By the time that the last features were being added to Stonehenge, eastern militarism had spread to central Europe. The Unetice culture, which reached from Czechoslovakia to Poland and north Germany, was characterised by princely tombs, with possible signs of an emerging warrior caste.
Warfare, military camps, heavy fortiﬁcations, and new weapons spread like an oriental plague. All over Europe, our ancestors were forced to adapt. Even in Britain, the long millennia of equality and peace ended with the rise of the ﬁrst native chieftainly culture, in Wessex.
By perhaps 770 BC a startling new culture, known as Hallstatt after the famous cemetery near Salzburg, had arisen in central Europe. The founders of Hallstatt are the earliest descendants of our ancestors whose name has been preserved. They were called Celts.
Also for the ﬁrst time, we have a written description of their appearance. Herodotus, writing in about 450 BC, describes them as tall, fair-skinned, and blond, with blue eyes. Modern excavations conﬁrm Herodotus’ observations: the skeletons disinterred from Hallstatt are indistinguishable from their contemporaries in north Germany , where even today these characteristics are common.
The Greeks made no distinction between Celts and Germans. They “…regarded the Germans and Celts as close kin, very similar in physical features, manners and customs.”  In fact, “the Germanic peoples ﬁrst emerge into recorded history in the Roman Acta Triumphalia for the year 222 BC” , ﬁghting as allies of a Celtic army at Clastidium.
Hallstatt had been founded on the local salt-mining industry, which was vital to prehistoric societies. By sophisticated trade as-well as military conquest, the culture of the Celts was to develop into the most advanced in Europe, and to expand as far as France, the British Isles, Spain, the Mediterranean, and Anatolia.
Theirs was a warrior society, adept at building massive fortiﬁcations such as the Heuneberg overlooking the Danube, or Crickley Hill in Gloucestershire. Brilliant metallurgists, the Celts were to pioneer the casting of iron tools – and, ominously, iron weapons. As Chapman points out, the very name “Celt” may be related to the Old Norse “hildr”, meaning “war”.
Ammianus Marcellinus left us a Roman stereotype: “Almost all the Gauls are of tall stature, fair and ruddy, terrible for the ﬁerceness of their eyes, fond of quarrelling, and of overbearing insolence. In fact, a whole band of foreigners will be unable to cope with one of them in a ﬁght, if he call in his wife, stronger than he by far and with ﬂashing eyes …”
Celtic militarism – culminating in the sack of Rome in 390 BC, and the plundering of the holiest site in Greece, Delphi, in 279 BC – should not obscure other aspects of their culture, like their art, technology and religion. These can be studied in any number of textbooks and museums.
One thing that contact with the east had not erased was the old European respect for women. The tomb of the young princess at Vix, near the Mont Lassois hillfort, contained the richest grave goods yet discovered in prehistoric Europe. Perhaps this conﬁrms Tacitus’ statement regarding Boadicea: “Britons make no distinction of sex in their appointment of commanders.” And here is Cassius Dio Cocceianus’ description of the warrior-queen: “She was enormous of frame, terrifying of mien, and with a rough, shrill voice. A great mass of bright red hair fell down to her knees: she wore a huge twisted torc of gold, a tunic of many colours, over which was a thick mantle held by a brooch.”
Celtic implements begin to appear in the British Isles from about 500 BC, but they don’t necessarily imply any large-scale movement of people. The earliest clear evidence of an immigrant Celtic colony in Britain comes from the Arras culture of east Yorkshire. Many cemeteries have been discovered in this region, in addition to the famous chariot burial at Garton Slack in the eastern Wolds. The Arras culture dates from the 3rd to the 1st centuries BC.
The elusive Picts had begun founding settlements in Ulster by the 4th or 3rd century BC. Hubert  identiﬁes the Picts with the Gaulish tribe of Pictones mentioned in Roman sources. Groups of Goidels settled in Ireland, where they became known as Scotti – a Gaulish word that probably means “skirmisher”.
Probably the most disruptive incursion of Celts into Britain occurred in the 1st century BC, shortly before Caesar’s raids. Belgic Gauls seem to have invaded south-east England, perhaps in two separate waves, which were resisted by more assimilated Celtic tribes such as the Catuvellauni. These Belgic invaders are usually associated with the appearance of cremation graves in Kent.
By 55 BC, Celtic tribes may have accounted for “as much as two thirds of the population” of mainland Britain . The vast majority of the tribesmen, however, were probably descendants of the Swanscombe people, who had adopted a Celtic language, together with the artistically brilliant but ferociously martial culture that dominated Europe in the age of iron.
6. Island of angels and poets
Pope Gregory (590-604) once observed some ethereally beautiful children in the streets of Rome. Struck by their radiant looks, he asked what tribe they belonged to. They answered that they were called Angles. “It is well, ” he said, “for they have the faces of angels, and such should be the co-heirs of the angels of heaven. “
But the Angles were not unknown to Rome. In the ﬁrst century, Tacitus had described some of the religious customs of the continental Angles in his Germania. In the meantime, much of this Germanic tribe had migrated across the North Sea.
Several reasons for the Anglo-Saxon settlement of Britain have been suggested. One factor may have been the expansion of the Huns, a Turkic-Uighur people from central Asia. In the 4th century CE they swarmed across the Russian steppes, crossing the Volga in about 370 and eventually establishing a huge empire of their own centred on what is now Hungary. This Asian incursion forced nations that were already established in the region, such as the Goths, to move west, to the Balkans and beyond, in an early form of “White Flight”. No doubt population movements of this order set up a ripple effect across Europe.
Anglo-Saxon harpist (re-enactment)
Any additional pressure on the environment of the North Sea coastal regions would have been disastrous for the Angles, Saxons and Jutes. Much of their land was coastal bog or sand-dune. What thin soil they had was becoming increasingly marshy. From the 2nd century on they responded by building artificial islands (“terps”), but these quickly became overcrowded. Emigration was the only possibility, and the Hunnish invasion of Europe may have blocked their traditional outlet to the south, into what is now the German state of Saxony.
Furthermore, Roman authority had collapsed. On 24 August 410, the starving City of Rome had surrendered to Alaric, King of the Visigoths, among whose bounty was the sister of the emperor. Unable to defend even itself, Rome had no troops to spare elsewhere. Emperor Honorius told the Latinised Celts in Britannia that they would have to stand alone against the increasing ravages of the Picts and Scots.
A local militia was set up, but “Without a paid Roman army and a paid Roman civil service, there was no longer a need for Roman currency, so the supply of new coins from Roman mints on the continent quickly dried up. Without the need to equip, feed and clothe the troops and officials of the Empire a whole range of urban crafts in metal, bone and leather died or decayed. The cities of Roman Britain had always been artiﬁcial creations superimposed upon an Iron Age economy; all now went into rapid decline.”
With their own lands flooding and over-crowded, the Anglo-Saxons had to move somewhere. In Catherine Hills’ laconic words, “Eastern England is not far from the other side of the North Sea and the attraction of an agriculturally rich land with an apparently dissolving political and administrative system would have been hard for the coastal people to resist.”
According to Bede (writing in 731), the Romano-British ruler Vortigern, under attack from the Picts and Scots, hired Anglo-Saxon mercenaries. Three shiploads of men under Hengest and his brother Horsa landed at Ebbsfleet in 449. After a dispute about working conditions, they brought over reinforcements from the continent and overran Kent. While there is no hard evidence for this legend, it is not improbable. Rome hired Germanic warriors to defend the provinces, and Vortigern may have copied the imperial ways.
Bede also said the English of his day were descended from “the three most formidable races of Germany”: the Saxons from Old Saxony, the Angles from Angeln (Schleswig-Holstein) and the Jutes from Jutland in Denmark. For many years this seemed too simplistic, but recent excavations confirm Bede’s account. Pottery, metalwork and brooches excavated between the Elbe and Weser rivers resemble similar items found in Saxon cemeteries in England. Likewise, grave goods found in Schleswig and Fyn have their “Anglian” parallels in sites such as Caistor-by-Norwich.
What Bede does not tell us is that Germanic visitors were settling in Britain long before the time of Hengest. A Germanic cemetery near Winchester has been dated to the mid-fourth century. This is hardly surprising. The only difference between the Celts and the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes, was cultural. By this stage they spoke different languages and followed different religions. The British Celts were mostly Christianised, while the newcomers clung to the faith of their fathers.
We know from the names of the days of the week and from place-name evidence that the Anglo-Saxons worshipped Tiw, Woden, Thunor and Erig. A surviving charm invokes an Earth Mother, who may be the Nerthus worshipped by the continental Angles in the first century. The epic poem Beowulf refers to the god and goddess known later in Scandinavia as Heimdall and Freya. The third and fourth months of the year were named after two more goddesses, Hretha and Eostre (modern Easter).
Older scholars portrayed the Anglo-Saxon settlement as a brutal military invasion, after which the defeated Celts fled to Brittany, Wales and the far-western parts of modern England. This now seems unlikely. “Careful examination of the location of early Anglo-Saxon settlement and place-names suggests that the course of events varied from region to region. In Sussex it looks as if there may have been a division of the land by treaty, since all very early Anglo-Saxon sites lie in a group between the rivers Ouse and Cuckmere,  as if the immigrants had been granted that particular area to settle.” Excavations show that many of the new settlers married and were buried with Celtic women, which hardly suggests genocidal warfare . Nor does the fact that early Anglo-Saxon kings married into Celtic royalty. For instance, lda, the founder of Northumbria, formed an alliance with Culvynawyd and married his daughter – Bun or Bebban. Bamborough, the greatest Northumbrian fortress, is named after this princess – showing that relations between native Celts and Anglo-Saxons were not always hostile.
It also indicates the respect for women shown by all the northern peoples. Women could exercise independent regal powers, as Queen Seaxburh did in Wessex from 672-3. Even in the tenth century, Aethelﬂaed, Queen of Mercia, ruled in her own right from 911-18, leading successful campaigns against the Vikings of York. 
Magnificent jewellery and metalwork are often thought of as the chief heritage of Anglo-Saxon times. But England was no dark, war-torn land at the edge of the world. Aethelberht of Kent married Bertha, daughter of the King of Paris. Pope Gregory wrote often to the couple. Needing a teacher at his royal court, Charlemagne turned to Alcuin of York. Anglo-Saxon scholarship was renowned: “English schools excelled all those of Europe, and English scholars eclipsed their continental contemporaries in all fields of scholarly endeavour, their writings forming the staple of the European school curriculum for many centuries to come.”  In a sign of things to come, “England produced the most extensive vernacular literature of any country in Europe during the early Middle Ages, with a particular emphasis on poetry” 
 Robert Silverberg, The Morning of Mankind, N.Y., l967
 F. Clark Howell, Early Man, Time-Life, N.Y., 1973
 see Total Man, 1972; Personality and Evolution, 1973; and The Neanderthal Question, 1977
 Roger Lewin, In the Age of Mankind, Washington, 1988
 Desmond Collins, The Human Revolution: from Ape to Artist, Oxford, 1976
 Marie-Louise Makris (ed), The Human Story, Hong Kong, 1989
 H. V. Vallois, The Fontechevade Fossil Men, American Journal of Physical Anthropology 7: 339-362
 Stan Gooch, however, claimed that modern non-European populations may have 50% or more Neanderthal genes. Modern genetic studies suggest that very few, if any, Neanderthal genes have found their way into our gene-pool.
 John Geipel, The Europeans, Longmans, 1969
 See Nature, October 1987
 Desmond Collins, Palaeolithic Europe, Devon, 1986
 See New Scientist, 5 December 1992
 R.M. Jacobi, “Britain Inside and Outside Mesolithic Europe,” Proc. Prehist. Soc. 42 (1976).
 K. Bokelmann, “Duvensee, ein Wohnplatz des Mesolithilikums in Schleswig-Holstein, und die Duvesengruppe”, Archäologische Information, l (1972)
 Rodney Castleden, The Stonehenge People, Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1987
 Colin Renfrew, Before Civilization: The Radiocarbon Revolution and Prehistoric Europe, Cambridge, 1979
 Aubrey Burl, Prehistoric Avebury, Yale University Press, l979
 G. Billy calculated the heights of both his male Cro-Magnons, I & lll, to be l7l cm., with female Cro-Magnon ll being 166 cm.
 See “Colin Renfrew” in Current Archaeology, Vol. 9, No. 5, I986
 V. Gordon Childe, “Retrospect”, Antiquity, 32: 70
 Robert Silverberg, The Morning of Mankind, N.Y., 1967.
 John Geipel, The Europeans, Longmans, 1967
 J. & C. Hawkes, Prehistoric Britain, London, 1947
 T. C. Lethbridge, The Legend of the Sons of God, London, 1973
 Rodney Castleden, The Stonehenge People, London, 1987
 Dennis Harding, Prehistoric Europe, Phaidon, 1978
 Colin Renfrew, Archaeology and Language, Jonathan Cape, 1988
 John Baker, Race, Cambridge, 1976
 See letter by Howard K. Jones, Current Archaeology, Vol X No 4, 1988
 Paul Budd, “Recasting the Bronze Age” in New Scientist, 23/10/93
 J. P. Mallory, In Search of the Indo-Europeans, Thames & Hudson, 1991
 Aubrey Burl, Prehistoric Avebury, Yale, 1979
 Nigel Davies, Voyagers to the New World, London, 1979
 J. P. Mallory, In Search of the Europeans, London, 1989
 John Baker, Race, Cambridge, 1976
 Malcolm Chapman, THE CELTS – The Construction of a Myth, London, 1992
 P. B. Ellis, Celtic Inheritance, London, 1985
 Henri Hubert, The Greatness of the Celts, London, 1987
 Frank Delaney, The Celts, London, 1986
 Nicholas Brooks, in The Making of England: Anglo-Saxon Art and Culture, British Museum Press, 1991
 Catherine Hills, “The Anglo-Saxon Settlement of England”, in The Northern World, London, 1980
 John Baker, Race, Cambridge, 1976
 See Williams, Smyth & Kirby, A Biographical Dictionary of Dark Age Britain, London, 1991
 Michael Lapidge, “The New Learning”, in The Making of England
 Janet Backhouse, “Manuscripts”, in The Making of England
In 2015, Oxford University researchers investigated and uncovered distinct geographical groupings of genetically similar individuals across the UK.
The study, published in the journal Nature, found that:
There was no single Celtic genetic group. In fact the Celtic parts of the UK (Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales and Cornwall) are distinct from each other genetically. For example, the Cornish are much more similar genetically to other English groups than they are to the Welsh or the Scots.
There are separate genetic groupings in Cornwall and Devon, with the division almost exactly along the modern county boundary.
The majority of people in eastern, central and southern England are a single, homogeneous genetic group with a significant DNA contribution from Anglo-Saxon settlers (10-40% of total ancestry). This finding settles an historical controversy in showing that the Anglo-Saxons intermarried with, rather than replaced, existing populations in these areas.
The population of Orkney is the most genetically distinct British population group, with 25% of DNA of Orcadians coming from Norwegian ancestors.
The Welsh are more like the earliest post-Ice Age settlers of Britain than are other people in the UK.
The genetic legacy of Scotland
Following on from this earlier study, Edinburgh University researchers have now undertaken an in depth genetic study of the Scots people. Their study examined the genetic make-up of people whose ancestors had lived in specific geographic locations in Scotland for at least four generations.
The results appeared in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America in September 2019.
This Scottish genetic study reveals that:
- Scotland’s genetic landscape is remarkably similar to Dark Age populations, reflecting the country’s ancient kingdoms. For example, the genetic cluster in the southwest of Scotland mirrors the sixth-ninth century Dark Age kingdoms of Strathclyde and Dal Riata (modern Argyle)
- There are six clusters of genetically-similar people in the Borders, the south west, the north east of Scotland, in the Hebrides, and Orkney and in Shetland.
- These clusters are distinct from each other and this differentiation is due to the majority of people in each location marrying locally and preserving their genetic identity.
In southern Scotland, the Borders region forms the boundary between Scotland and England. People from the Borders have a distinct genetic signature, with a majority of Scottish people in the Borders area sharing genes with people of English ancestry. This distinguishes the Border folk in the lowlands from Scots from other geographic locations. This Borders genetic cluster mirrors the ancient Brythonic kingdoms of the Gododdin and Rheged (modern Cumbria)
The Highlands in the north of Scotland are sparsely populated and an isolated mountainous region. This isolation is shown in the genetic features of Scots living in this region, whose genes differ from the genes of Scots elsewhere in Scotland. The Edinburgh University researchers have concluded that these differences in the Highland folk are the genetic legacy of their ancient Pictish ancestors, whose kingdoms were historically located in Scotland’s Highlands.
The study also confirms that the people of the Hebrides are genetically distinct from the rest of mainland Scotland, forming a discrete genetic “island”. This is attributable to Irish genetic admixture and generations of relative isolation for the small, ancestral island population.
Orkney and Shetland also form their own isolated “islands” with distinctive genetic features. These differences are attributable to both Norwegian ancestry and the isolation of these northern isles. The study’s clustering analysis also shows a significant degree of differentiation within each island group, with genetic differences evident in individual isles.
The genetic features in the study’s clusters in the south east and north-west of Scotland indicate an affinity with people of Welsh ancestry, reflecting a common Celtic ancestry across Scotland and Ireland.
The eastern Scottish clusters in Aberdeenshire and Tayside-Fife indicate English-like ancestry. The Isle of Man similarly shows relatively high (42%) English ancestry.
This in depth study of the genetic inheritance of the Scots confirms Scotland’s genetic continuity across the centuries.
This genetic legacy is the real treasure of Scotland.
Bagpipes are woodwind instruments. Their most obvious feature is that, unlike oboes or clarinets, their air supply is not blown directly through a reed. Instead, the air is held in a bag, which is gently squeezed, thus supplying air to a reed which is inserted in a chanter, on which the melody is played. Most forms of bagpipe also have one or more drones, also containing reeds vibrated by air from the bag. These drones produce a constant sound to accompany the melody of the chanter, rather like the pipes of an organ.
Most people in the English-speaking world associate bagpipes with the Scottish Highland military pipe bands that became familiar throughout the British Empire in the 19th century. In fact, the earliest evidence of this instrument comes from the part of what is now Turkey that was occupied by the ancient Hittites. These people spoke the oldest-known form of the Indo-European language group. A carving on a Hittite slab dated to around 1,000 BCE is accepted by musicologists as representing an early bagpipe.
Starting in Anatolia, or perhaps some other centre of our ancestral culture, bagpipes spread throughout the Indo-European diaspora. There are local versions of bagpipes in all the parts of the world in which our ancestors settled – from Ireland to Norway, from Turkey to India, from northern Africa to central Asia. The ancient Greek version of the instrument was called the askaulos, while the historian Suetonius says that the Roman Emperor Nero played the tibia utricularis, which seems to refer to a pipe that could be both blown into directly and also supplied with air by a bag held under the arm.
Naturally, then, the bagpipes would probably have been brought to the British Isles by its earliest Indo-European settlers. Unfortunately, we don’t have much evidence of this. Writing was not common until the Roman invasions, and old instruments made of wood and leather tend not to survive. However, they are explicitly mentioned in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (written around 1387-1400):
A baggepype wel coude he blowe and sowne,
And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.
The Scottish Highland pipes are first recorded as having been used at the battle of Pinkie in 1547. Bagpipes are first attested in Ireland in an illustration from 1581 by John Derricke, reproduced below:
William Shakespeare, in The Merchant of Venice and elsewhere, refers to bagpipes. For instance:
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
Some that are mad if they behold a cat;
And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ th’ nose,
Cannot contain their urine; for affection,
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes.
Furthermore, there are many carvings of bagpipers in British medieval churches.
As in many other parts of the world, British Isles bagpipes vary greatly from region to region. Since the form of the instrument that is best known to the general public is the type used by regimental bands, we will start with the Great Highland Pipes of Scotland (in Gaelic, piob mor), seen below:
At the far right of this image is the chanter, on which the melody is played. It produces only nine notes, ranging from G in the treble clef up to A above G. The spacing between the notes is not that of the classical western scale, which seems to irritate some listeners. The hole down the centre of the chanter, or bore, is conical rather than parallel. This type of bore gives a stronger, harsher sound, while parallel bores are more mellow and more suited for indoor playing. The reed that produces the actual sound is made of two pieces of cane pressed almost together. When air is forced through the reed the canes vibrate. The top end of the Highland chanter is open, which means that any two sequential notes are slurred. The only way to separate them is to interpolate very short “grace notes”.
To the left of the chanter is a blowpipe. At its base there is a non-returning valve made of leather, often called a “clack valve”.
Then there are the three drones, tuned to the low A on the chanter. The two short drones, known as “tenor” drones, are an octave below low A on the chanter. The long or “bass” drone is a further octave deeper.
Although we are most familiar with Highland pipes playing military tunes suitable for marching, like “Scotland the Brave”, there is also a native Scottish classical tradition known variously as piobaireachd or Ceol Mor. This style of music is very formal, very complicated in structure, and requires far more skill than the average piper can aspire to. It also requires the listener to be familiar with the tradition – rather like a Bach fugue or an Indian raga. To many people unfamiliar with the tradition it sounds convincing but unappealing.
We have used the Great Highland Pipe as an introduction to the world of British Bagpipes. All that remains is to list some of the other pipes from different regions in the British Isles. We will do this in alphabetical order.
The Northumbrian Small Pipes are probably the most sophisticated bagpipes in the world. Have a look at Kathryn Tickell playing them in the image below:
As you can see, she is not blowing into them. Instead, air is supplied to the bag by a bellows strapped under her right arm. The chanter is parallel-bored, which makes the instrument sweet and mellow. It is also end-stopped, so the notes can be separated in “staccato” style. It also contains several brass keys, which means it can have a fully chromatic range over two octaves. There are four drones, which have tuning beads that allow them to be tuned to different keys. Unlike the Great Highland Pipes, any traditional Western music can be played on this instrument.
The Northumbrian War Pipes are attested to in the historical record, but are now extinct.
The Northumbrian Half-Longs are in almost all respects the same as those which Scottish enthusiasts call the Scottish Lowland pipes. They differ in the tuning of their drones. The Lowland pipes have a Bass A and two Tenor As, while the Half-Longs usually have either Bass A, Baritone E and Tenor A; or else Bass A, Tenor A and Treble A. The bores of the drones and chanter are narrower than the Highland pipes, which makes them more compatible with other instruments.
Cornish bagpipes are well-attested in medieval art. Sometimes they appear to have had double chanters. They became extinct in practice, but modern attempts have been made to revive them, based on traditional images such as this image of a Cornish piper from Davidstow Church:
There are two types of bagpipe associated with Ireland:
The Uillean pipes are bellows-blown. They can achieve two octaves by a process called “over-blowing” (similar to a penny whistle), and they can be played staccato by stopping the open end of the chanter against the player’s thigh. Most historians accept that these pipes originated from the Northumbrian small-pipes and Scottish Lowland pipes, and spread to Ireland with the Protestant Anglo-Irish community that could afford such expensive and high-maintenance instruments.
The image above shows that the Uillean pipes are very similar to the Northumbrian pipes. The chanter lacks keys, but there are also regulators that allow the piper to play simple chords.
The Irish war-pipes. At the time of the John Derricke illustration (above), both the Irish war-pipes and (probably) their Scottish equivalents had only two drones. It is likely that they were essentially the same instrument. Sadly, no early instruments seem to have survived, so we may never know. A 19th-century reconstructed form of the Irish war-pipe, with two drones, was used in some Irish regiments until the 1960s. It has now been replaced by the Great Highland Pipe.
In addition to the two pipes mentioned above, mention should be given to the Scottish Pastoral Pipe, which was designed in the early 1700s and is now effectively extinct. It looked like this:
Welsh bagpipes are attested to as early as 1376, by the poet Iolo Goch. The Welsh pipe later became almost extinct. It may have still been made by a few local craftsmen in recent centuries, but it was scarcely heard until the revival of interest in Celtic culture in the 1970s. Here is a modern Welsh instrument pitched in G Major:
The bagpipes are still immensely popular in all those parts of the world settled by Indo-Europeans. In the British Isles, and the general Anglosphere, the Great Highland Pipes are best known. But reconstructions of medieval instruments such as the Welsh pipes are becoming more popular, and so are the more modern and more sophisticated versions of this instrument, such as the Northumbrian and Uillean pipes.