The Highland bagpipe

by W. L. Manson

Be’t true or no I canna say,

I was nae up to see the day,

But took the story upon credit,

An’ I shall gie it—as I had it.”

Unreliability of tradition—Lost in antiquity—Occasions of tunes—Interest of stories—The Mac Raes’ March—Story of “Suarachan”—Hal o’ the Wynd—The Mac Intosh’s Lament—Two different stories—A Cholla mo run—Duntroon’s Salute—The Campbell’s are coming.

It serves no good purpose to indulge in regrets for that which is past, but one cannot help feeling sorry that the story of our national music is so scrappy and so unreliable. There is, indeed, a large quantity of material of a kind, and on a cursory examination one may think the stories of the origin of tunes are plentiful enough. But when one begins to go deeper and trace each story to its source, reconcile all its different versions and explain how the same incident crops up in another place, under different circumstances, perhaps even in connection with another tune, it is then that the task of making intelligible, and at the same time trustworthy, stories for melodies that are now so well known, becomes difficult. Precise dates have been given for many tunes, but it is obvious enough that the writers giving them, though doubtless good pipers, were but little conversant with the facts of history. Very few, indeed, of the older tunes can be authenticated. With them it is truly a case of being lost in the mists of antiquity. It is too often assumed that a tune having a direct reference to a certain historical incident, is itself of the date of that incident, while the chances are that it was composed on that incident by a piper who lived many years after. Because Shakespeare wrote Macbeth we do not conclude that he lived in Macbeth’s day. A composer, like a dramatist, has all history spread out before him, and can make his music on what he pleases. We have, for instance, a piece of pipe music called “The Battle of Harlaw,” but, though we know that it is very old, we have no reason to think that, in its present form, it was in existence in 1411. So with very many others. When the events they celebrate took place, very few, if any, of the actors could write, and it was a long time after that the matters referred to became part of written history. When the tunes were composed must, therefore, be decided, when it can be decided at all, by other evidence—by historical data regarding the lives of their composers or by references in the authentic history of the country. Such data and references are, however, because of the lack of education in the times when the accurate information could be got, very scarce, and the result is that, although many of the older tunes have been first favourites from time immemorial, no one has any idea of how they came into being.

There was always a fine vein of poesy and music among the Celts, and they readily composed rhymes and tunes which powerfully affected the imagination. They had magnificent memories, cultivated, of course, by that very lack of written books to which I have referred, and into their tunes they compressed the sentiments of past centuries, and the troubles and joys of everyday life. Noted incidents induced commemoration. The birth of an heir to the ancient clan, the death of the chief, a victory in battle, the home-coming or departure of any notable personage, were all fit subjects for the genius of the clan piper, and were often utilised as such. Where we can prove that the tune was composed when the incident, of which we know the date, occurred, we are on sure ground. When we cannot we are none the wiser. Each clan had its own music, almost all of high antiquity, and all of the class common to the Gael, but we can no more fix the origin of the music than we can fix the origin of the clan. The Munros have a pibroch composed on the battle of Bealach na Broige, an event which took place about 1350, and there is the tradition in the Clan Menzies that their piper played at Bannockburn, but in neither case is the matter of any use as history. “The Desperate Battle of Perth” is alleged to date from 1395, “The Mac Raes’ March” from 1477, and “Mac Intosh’s Lament” from 1526. In each case, however, tradition is the only original authority, and to tradition a hundred years are often as one day, and one day as a hundred years.

But the fact that we cannot fix exact dates does not impair the value of the stories, as stories. And it is as stories, traditions if you will, that we wish to recall them now, if only to show the atmosphere in which our pipe music lived and moved and had its being. The stories I believe are true, though I would not like to vouch for the accuracy of the names of characters and places in every instance, no more than for that of the dates. The incident recorded may have taken place at some other time, in some other place, and with some other people, and tradition may have mixed up names and figures. But there must have been such an incident sometime, somehow, somewhere in the Highlands. So long as we know that it did not originate in the imagination of the story-teller, it illustrates men and manners just as well as if we could swear by all its details. And as it throws light on the circumstances in which Highland music was so often composed, it lends a new interest to the study of that music. I give, I need hardly add, in each case, that version of the story which I consider best authenticated, told, whenever possible, in the form that is of greatest interest.

Let us take the first two or three in the order of their traditional dates:—

“THE MAC RAES’ MARCH”