Scottish music as it now exists has been derived largely from the Highlands. No man did more to acclimatise Celtic music in the Lowlands than Burns. By wedding Highland airs to his own incomparable poetry he gave them a new lease of life, albeit he helped to destroy them under their old names while preserving them under the new. The music of “Scots Wha Hae,” “Boy’s Wife,” “Auld Lang Syne,” “Of a’ the Airts,” and “Ye Banks and Braes,” has no counterpart across the Border or among the Saxon race. It is the ancient inheritance of the Celt, made national by the genius of a national poet.
The age of Highland music is another guarantee of its excellence. It has stood the test of time, the severest of all ordeals. We have not much English poetry which can, with any certainty, be ascribed to a date earlier than the time of Chaucer, but the Scots were celebrated for musical genius since the beginning of history, genius which, an early historian says, could not be found elsewhere on this side of the Alps. We have, for instance, a “Song of the Druids,” though, to tell the truth, we cannot prove its Druidical origin; we have “Somerled’s Lament,” composed on an event which took place in 1164, though not necessarily at that date; we have a piece of pipe music composed in the middle of the battle of Inverlochy in 1427; the “Rout of Glenfruin,” which refers to a desperate engagement between the Mac Gregors and the Colquhouns in 1602; and a “March to the Battle of Inverlochy,” and “The Clans’ Gathering;” both composed on the battle fought at Inverlochy in 1645. These do not prove that the pipes themselves were capable at that time of rendering such music, but they prove that the music existed. There are some pipe tunes—Cogadh na Sith and A Ghlas Mheur—for instance, so ancient that their origin cannot be traced, but they have, by means of their own merits, and in spite of the want of the printing press, lived all through the centuries. In the beginning of the twelfth century, Giraldus Cambrensis said of the music of the Irish Celts that it was above that of any nation he had ever known, and in the opinion of many, Scotland at that time far surpassed Ireland, even while her people were sunk in misery and barbarism.
As to the question whether people of good musical taste can appreciate the music of the great Highland bagpipe, it is a fact that people who have the keenest appreciation and intense enjoyment of the music of such composers as Mozart and Handel, of the great singers and great musicians, can at the same time enjoy a pibroch or a strathspey when played by a master hand. Mendelssohn on his visit to the Highlands was favourably impressed by the pibroch, and introduced a portion into one of his finest compositions. The pibrochs are remarkable productions; all the more remarkable that they were composed by men who, we may safely assume, were of an humble class, and not blessed in any way with the advantages of education—least of all with those of a musical education.
The great Highland bagpipe is not fitted for executing all kinds, or even many kinds of music. Its compass is only nine notes, from G second time treble clef to A, first ledger line above clef. The scale may be called a “tempered” one. The C note being slightly flattened admits of a greater variety of keys than could otherwise be used, and for its own purposes the scale is perfect. The notes are G natural, A, B, C, D, E, F sharp, G natural, and A. It is this G natural, or flat seventh, which gives the scale its peculiar character. The A is that of any other instrument in concert pitch. The so-called imperfection of scale, together with the somewhat harsh tone, is the cause of the unpleasant effect on the accurately sensitive ears of those accustomed to music in the natural diatonic scale, but these also account for the semi-barbarous, exciting stimulus the instrument exercises on the minds of Highlanders, especially on the battlefield. The chanter of the Highland bagpipe has an oboe or bassoon reed broader than that of the other kinds, whence that loudness of sound for which it is known. This is a valuable quality in a military instrument, and when heard at a sufficient distance, when the faults of scale are not so noticeable, the music is very agreeable. Besides, compass and variety are not always the highest qualities of music, and, although the chanter of a bagpipe is almost devoid of expression and beyond the performer’s control, the suitable execution of simple airs is equally practicable, and of equal value with music obtained from other instruments. Simple airs may be performed on simple instruments, and a master hand can bring from imperfect materials results better than those produced by the amateur with materials of the highest class. But we should not expect from one instrument the music proper to another, or blame the one because it fails to please those who are used to the other. The bagpipes have all along been subject to the criticism of the stranger, who knew neither them nor their people, but who came to criticise and went away to scoff, not remembering that a Highlander suddenly imported into a London drawing-room would have as poor an opinion of the music there as the Londoner has of his. They have suffered too from the well-meaning efforts of their friends. Some have invented contrivances and modifications for bringing the instrument nearer to all-round music. Others have adapted for the pipes pieces never intended for them, and which only show up their deficiencies, in the hope of bringing the music nearer to the pipes. Neither has succeeded to any great extent, and neither is likely to succeed. The Mac Crimmons of Skye, the greatest masters of the bagpipe, never violated the principle of using only music specially composed, and they succeeded beyond all others in demonstrating the powers of the instrument. Those who have since departed from their principle have failed to justify the departure, but they have proved, what they might have known before they began, that an instrument cannot produce what it is not constructed to produce. The Highland bagpipe is the exponent of Highland music, and of that only.
And there is enough and to spare without invading the realms of other instruments. There are reels, strathpeys, and marches out of number, and there are, above all things, pibrochs, or, to give the proper spelling, piobaireachd (“pibroch” is simply an attempt made by Sir Walter Scott to spell the word phonetically, so as to make it pronounceable to his south country readers; but it has come into such general use that its correctness passes unquestioned.)[[3]] The word does not, properly speaking, denote any class of tune—it means pipe-playing—but it is generally applied to a class which in itself includes three classes—the cruinneachadh or gathering, the cumhadh or lament, and the failte or salute. The pibroch has been called the voice of uproar and misrule, and its music that of real nature and rude passion. It is the great specialty of the Highland bagpipe, and no piper is considered a real expert unless he is a good pibroch player. It is the most elaborate of the compositions devised for the pipes, and is difficult to define otherwise than as a theme with variations. Dr. Mac Culloch, a rather cynical traveller, who wrote books on Scotland in 1824, which still pass as standard, considered it “of an extremely irregular character, containing a determined melody, whereon, such as it is, are engrafted a series of variations rising in difficulty of execution, but presenting no character, as they consist of commonplace, tasteless flourishes, offensive to the ear by their excess, and adding to the original confusion instead of embellishing the air which the ground may possess.” “It has,” he adds, “neither time, rhythm, melody, cadence, nor accent, neither keynote nor commencement nor termination, and it can therefore regulate nothing. It begins, goes on, and ends, no one knows when or how or where, and if all the merit of the bagpipe is to depend on its martial, or rather its marching, utility, it could not stand on a worse foundation.” But Dr. Mac Culloch, strangely enough, himself says a little later:—
[3]. The proper name of “classic” pipe music in the Gaelic is Ceol Mor, the Great Music, a word which includes gatherings, laments, and salutes.
“The proper music of the bagpipe is well worthy of the instrument. They are really fit for each other, and ought never to have been separated. The instrument has suffered in reputation, like the ass in the fable, from making too high flights. It is, properly speaking, a military weapon (sic), and the pibroch is its real business.”
A pibroch is generally in triple or quadruple time, although many are in two-fourth and six-eighth time. It begins with the urlar or groundwork of the composition and its doubling. Then comes the high A or thumb variation, after which the music proceeds:—
| (1) | Siubhal, | with its | doubling and trebling. | |
| (2) | Leum-luath, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (3) | Taor-luath, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (4) | Taor-luath fosgailte, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (5) | Taor-luath breabach, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (6) | Taor-luath a mach, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (7) | Crun-luath, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (8) | Crun-luath fosgailte, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (9) | Crun-luath breabach, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
| (10) | Crun-luath a mach, | Do. | Do. | Do. |
It is finished up with the ground or urlar as at the beginning.