Diarmuid Breatnach – Talk given at 1916 Performing Arts Club, May 2024.

(Reading time: 6 mins.)

There was a time when from Dublin to Galway, from Kerry to Donegal, the dominant language was Irish. There was a time too when it was widespread in Scotland, in parts of Wales and the main language on the Isle of Man.

Now however one can travel through all of those places and not hear it.

Irish was the first vernacular language to be written down in Europe and though island people, its speakers were not “insular”. The educated spoke Greek and Latin too and when the Dark Ages fell upon Europe it was the Irish intellectuals, the monks who revived and spread literacy there.

But here we are, you and I, speaking English – which did not even exist until at least the 12^th Century.

She (I say ‘she’ because language in Irish is a feminine noun and in many other languages too) – she is all around us in place names, though we may know them only through their corrupted forms into English.

Árd/ Ard, a height; Baile/ Bally, a town or village; Béal/ Bel, the mouth of; Bun, the bottom of; Carraig/ Carrig, a rock; Cnoc/ Knock, a hill; Cluain/ Clon, a meadow; Dún/ Dun, a fort or castle; Inis/ Inis or Ennis, an island or a raised mound surrounded by flat land; Loch/ a lake …

The English-language names of twenty-nine of our counties are corruptions of words in Irish: from Ciarraí to Dún na nGall, from Átha Cliath Duibhlinne to Gaillimh. This includes all six counties in the colony: Aontroim, Árd Mhacha, Doire Cholmcille, An Dún, Tír Eoghain, Fear Manach.

Just over half the States of Stáit Aontaithe Meiriceá on Turtle Island have names in the indigenous native languages, so we’re doing well with placenames and also of course have survived the colonial genocidal campaigns and wars much better.

By the way we also have Irish names for some places in Britain: Glaschú, Dún Éidin, Manchuin, Leabharpholl, Brom agus Lúndain. In fact probably none of the names of those cities are originally English anyway.

Irish has left only a small imprint on the general English language for example with “a pair of brogues, whiskey and slogan” (from slua-ghairm, a call to or by a multitude), banshee, carn and smithereeens. And shebeen, in parts of the USA, the Caribbean and in South Africa.

But its influence on the way we speak English in Ireland is clear.

We might say, instead of complaining that we are thirsty, that we have a thirst on us – a direct translation from Tá tart orainn. Or that the humour is on us – Tá fonn orainn. We might “have a head on us”, as in a headache. “The day that’s in it” – an lá atá ann.

We pronounce “film” with a vowel between the L and the M, as it would be in Irish – take the name for a dove and also a personal male name, Colm. We get that with R and M and R and N too, in some areas “a carun of stones” or “down at the farrum”.

We often indicate the absence of ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Irish by replying in English to the verb in the question: ‘Will you be there?’ ‘I will surely’ (Beidh, cinnte). ‘Will you do it?’ ‘I will not’ (Ní dhéanfad).

We have an extra tense in Irish, the very recent past tense, which we translate into English as spoken in Ireland: ‘I’m just after cleaning that floor!’ Táim díreach thréis an urlár sin a ghlanadh!

Renaissance of language and culture has often preceded periods of heightened national struggle: the Harp Festival of 1792 was followed soon by the uprising of the United Irish; the cultural work of The Nation newspaper was followed by the rising of the Young Irelanders.

LANGUAGE AND NATIONAL STRUGGLE

The Fenians too had their cultural precursors and the great revivals of the Irish language, Irish sport, speaking and writing in Irish and Irish theatre were not long in finding expression of another kind in the 1916 Rising and the War of Independence.

And campaigns of civil disobedience in the 1960s secured for us Irish-language broadcasting in Radió na Gaeltachta and TG4. Not to mention motor insurance documentation in Irish which Deasún Breatnach won only after going to jail for refusing to display the documentation in English.

Though we can hear the influence of the indigenous language upon our speaking Sacs-Bhéarla, or English, the Irish language itself at this point is in retreat. In fact some might say that it’s in a rout.

Yes, the Gaelscoil movement is broader and deeper than ever before but outside the schools? The Gaeltacht areas are receding, receding … and where can the language be heard outside of those?

I had an experience recently that illustrates the problem. In a pub with some friends, I observed a man wearing a silver fáinne, the ring that many people wore to show a proficiency in Irish. It identified the wearer to other Irish-language speakers (my father wore a gold one).

The man had overheard me bidding farewell to friends in Irish and asked me: “Are you an Irishman?” I thought the question strange and said so. Then he asked me was I an Irish speaker, to which I replied in Irish language.

Eventually he came over and said that he didn’t speak Irish himself.

The fáinne was a family heirloom and he had been wearing it, he said, for six months in Dublin, wanting to come across an Irish speaker to whom he would give the ring. Since I had been somewhat abrupt with him, he gave the ring to one in the company who can speak Irish.

LABHAIR Í

Six months in Dublin without hearing Irish spoken or recognition of the fáinne! That illustrates one aspect of the linguistic problem in Ireland. But it is one that we can resolve, fairly easily too. And that brings me to the kernel, the poinnte or point of this talk here today.

I am asking you to speak a cúpla focal, regularly, go rialta, so that she may be heard. Labhair í ionnas go gcloisfear í. Imagine if everywhere in Dublin, on every side, one heard just a few words in Irish – imagine the social and psychological effect over time!

Those who know some Irish would speak her more often. Many who don’t, would feel it worthwhile to learn at least some phrases and some responses. Some might take it further and learn Irish well. Public services might regularly facilitate services through Irish.

Dia dhuit. Dia’s Muire dhuit. Or the non-religious form: Sé do bheatha. Go mba hé duit.

Má sé do thoill é or le do thoill.

Go raibh maith agat in many situations, including to the driver of the bus.

Tá fáilte romhat.

Gabh mo leithscéil.

Would you like a bag? Ní bheidh, go raibh maith agat.

Cash or card? Íoch le cárta, le do thoill as you wave your bank card. Or Airgead thirm, as you take out your wallet or purse.

Go léir, as you indicate that you wish to pay the full amount.

Isteach, le do thoill, when returning a book to the library. Amach, le do thoill, when borrowing one.

Slán, as you leave.

Easy enough, yes? Yes? But though a part of the mind is willing, another part is afraid.

“What if I get a big load of Irish in response and not even understand it? Won’t I look like a right eejit!” Well, there are risks in anything worth doing as was demonstrated in a short play here some time back when two fellas were debating whether and when to chat up a certain woman.

She was not uninterested but they took so long about it she walked out and left them, like fish brought up by fishing line, gasping on the dry quay.

So you could prepare a small survival kit: “Gabh mo leithscéil. I only have a few words/ níl agam ach cúpla focal.”

“Níl agam ach beagán ach tá mé ag iarraidh í a úsáid/ I only have a little but I want to use it. Is foghlaimeor mé/ I am a learner.”

I am not asking for any of us to campaign, to agitate for services to be provided through Irish though that is certainly a linguistic civil right and, as far as state or semi-state services go, a constitutional one.

I am only asking that you contribute to the audibility of the language, to use a few standard greetings and responses and to use them not only to people you know to be Irish speakers, not only to friends and relations … but everywhere in public.

Everywhere

in public.

Go ye out among the people and spread the word – or rather the few words. Scapaigí an cúpla focal.

End.