Tree of strings

Crann nan teud: a history of the harp in Scotland

Keith Sanger, Alison Kinnaird

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781317300908
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Media Studies
• Index: Social Sciences

This is the first history of the harp in Scotland to be published. It sets out to trace the development of the instrument from its earliest appearance on the Pictish stones of the 8th century, to the present day. Describing the different harps played in the Highlands and the Lowlands of Scotland, the authors examine the literary and physical evidence for their use within the Royal Courts and "big houses" by professional harpers and aristocratic amateurs. They vividly follow the decline of the wire-strung clarsach from its links with the hereditary bards of the Highland chieftains to its disappearance in the 18th century, and the subsequent attempts at the revival of the small harp during the 19th and 20th centuries. The music played on the harp, and its links with the great families of Scotland are described. The authors present, in this book, material which has never before been brought to light, from unpublished documents, family papers and original manuscripts. They also make suggestions, based on their research, about the development and dissemination of the early Celtic harps and their music. This book, therefore, should be of great interest, not only to harp players but to historians, to all musicians in the fields of traditional and early music, and to any reader who recognises the importance of these beautiful instruments, and their music, throughout a thousand years of Scottish culture.

1	MYTH & MAGIC

Rycht as stringis ar reulit in a harp

In ane accord, and timyt al be ane uth,

Quilk as a king then curiusly thai carp,

The sang is sueyt quhen that the sound is suth;

Bot quhen thai ar discordand, fals and muth,

Thair wil na man tak plesance in that play:

Thair mycht weil thole the menstrale war away,

Bot, and the stringis be nocht al treu and traist,

Quhat sal we say? Sal we the menstral wyt?

Yha, bot he bent and pruf thaim with his wraist;

Be thai untreu, pul out and mak al quyte,

And utheris treu put in thair stedis als tyt,

And changis ay sua quhil he find treu acord;

Than wil men say he is worth til a lord.¹

When the fifteenth century poet uses the harp as a symbol for the Kingdom of Scotland, he draws on the imagery of romance and magic which has surrounded one of our oldest national instruments for hundreds of years. It is a noble instrument of royal dignity and high standing. It is an instrument of beauty: in its form, its sound, and its craftsmanship. It is an instrument of harmony and accord, holding tension in perfect balance. It is a mysterious instrument, always rare; an instrument of glamour and glamourie; an instrument of the other world, pagan or Christian, as well as of our own. It can cast a spell of love or of evil intent, or soothe troubled minds in sleep. It has been played in Scotland for over a thousand years and has its place, not only in the native music but in the art, poetry and folklore of the different peoples that make up the Scottish nation. Later chapters will deal with the historical evidence pertaining to the harp in Scotland, but it is also important and fascinating to examine the special aura of enchantment and romance which surrounds it. The harp is a peculiarly romantic instrument.

The Scottish harp was never a ‘folk’ instrument. The word ‘folk’ suggests that an instrument would have been used for the native music throughout all strata of society, including the lower, less educated, levels. On the contrary, the harp was always a professional’s instrument, and an instrument of the aristocracy. As such, it would not have been found in croft or bothy as some other instruments, such as whistle, jaw-harp or fiddle, might have been. The harper’s skill and training were highly prized, and they themselves were regarded as being of high social standing. (The harpers also tended to esteem themselves highly, compared with other musicians. A certain amount of snobbery was sometimes involved.)² They often travelled around a great deal and, like all itinerant musicians, acquired a colourful image of excitement and mystery, especially among audiences who would seldom have been exposed to their art. Thus their music was seen as extraordinary, magical or even supernatural, as the references to harping throughout folklore and legend demonstrate. In the aristocratic households where a harper was employed, his presence emphasised the noble character of the family, and provided a link with the great deeds of his patron’s ancestors, real or mythical. The image that the mention of harp music conjured up was that of a rich tapestry of abundant wealth and feasting, rare wines and precious metals, silk and satin, friendship and generosity — an idealization of a society no longer in existence or fast disappearing, but still as powerful an image as any description of Heaven purveyed by the Christian Church.

Gu aros nach crion

Am bi gairich nam piob

Is nam clarsach a ris

Le dearrsadh nam pios

A’ cur sasaidh air fion

Is ga leigeadh an gniomh oircheard

(To the dwelling that is not niggardly

Wherein is the roar of pipes and

Anon the sound of harps

With the gleam of silver cups

Making wine flow free and pouring it

Into the goldsmith’s handiwork.)³

Although the Church had adopted and adapted many pre-Christian beliefs, incorporating them into its rituals and ceremonies, there seems to have remained a suspicion and mistrust of the native music. The priests and ministers often found it difficult to reconcile themselves with its pagan connotations. This was most strongly seen in the strict Presbyterian areas, in some of which all non-religious music and dance were forbidden as being the Devil’s music. Even today there is still a strong disapproval of them in some quarters. The stories of the 18th and 19th centuries which tell of musical instruments being thrown on bonfires do not mention harps, and indeed by that period the harp had gone out of general use in both the Highlands and Lowlands.⁴ It may also have escaped condemnation because it was regarded as a ‘heavenly’ instrument since it was associated with Biblical characters such as King David and the Angelic Host. The harp does not survive with its reputation completely unscathed, however — it was often linked in legend with practices of the Old Religion.

A tale which was found in both the islands of Eigg⁵ and of Skye⁶ relates “How Music first came to the Western Isles”. It tells how a boy found a strange musical instrument floating in the sea. When he pulled it out and held it so that the wind caught the strings, it made a wonderful sound. The boy sat fingering the strings, day after day, but could not find the way to make the magical music again. His poor mother, in desperation, went to a “dubh-sgoilear” — a practitioner of the Black Arts — to beg him either to give her son the skill of harping, or to quell his desire for it. “Give me your soul”, said the “dubh-sgoilear”, “and I will put the skill of music into your boy; or give me your body and I will quench his longing for it”. “My soul is to you here and now”, said the woman,” and the skill of music for my boy”. When she went home she found her son, his face lit up with joy, making wonderful music on the harp. But when he found what his mother had sacrificed in order that he should receive the gift, he was torn with horror and remorse. The Eigg version of the story says that ever after, during the daytime, the happiness of his music would draw the eagle from the dove, but when night fell the boy’s harping would sob with the agony of his mother’s lost soul. The Skye tale, however, tells that when he discovered his mother’s pact with the powers of darkness, from that moment he played only music so sad that the birds in the air and fish in the sea stopped to listen … “and that is the reason that it is impossible for anyone at all to draw joyful music from the harp or the clarsach”.

The area around Loch Ness was also well-known as the centre of a powerful coven of witches. Castle Urquhart, the ruins of which stand brooding on the western shore, is said to have been built — and cursed — by these witches who dragged the stones for it from Abriachan and Caiplich at the behest of Conachar MacNessa, a semi-mythical character of the 12th century. Near the farm of Tychat, at the edge of the Loch, is a rock known as An Clairsach, the Harp. It was here that the witches gathered to celebrate their Sabbaths and, on the great rock itself, Satan would sit and harp as they danced for his pleasure.⁷

The harp appears again in a pagan context in the Life of St. Kentigern written in Latin, in the mid 12th century by Jocelin of Furness.⁸ He tells how an Irish entertainer (ioculator) visited the court of Rederech Hael, ruler, in the 6th century, of the Kingdom of Strathclyde, and famed for his generosity. During the Christmas season the Irishman played with his hand on the “tympanum” and harp, and so pleased the King that after Epiphany, when it was the custom to give presents to the musicians, he offered the harper gold, silver, garments or horses as a reward. The man refused, saying that he had sufficient of these in Ireland, but the only thing that he would accept from King Rederech would be a dish of fresh brambles. His intention, of course, was to shame the Scottish King by making an impossible demand, and thus to “carry off his honour”. Rederech, in despair, sought advice from St. Kentigern, who asked him if he remembered the place where, during a hunting expedition in the height of summer he had tossed off his outer garments because of the heat. Rederech assented that he could remember the place and the occasion. “Go”, said the Saint, “straightway to the place and thou shalt find the garment still perfect hanging over a bush of thorns, and below that thou shalt find brambles sufficient, still fresh and fit for the gathering”.

Just as Kentigern had told him, the King found the brambles and, his honour saved, gave them to the Irishman, adding an invitation to stay and enjoy the hospitality of his court as long as he pleased. The harper was obviously impressed since he not only stayed on, but joined the followers of Kentigern in the service of God, renouncing his frivolous trade.

Pre-Christian religion and myth have been distilled and preserved in a unique way in many of the ballads of Lowland and Highland Scotland. Sometimes the pagan beliefs have become overlaid with a patchwork of ‘civilization’, and sometimes the mystical elements have been rationalized by later generations who did not accept, as a matter of course, the whole complicated pattern of supernatural, faery and magical superstition. The older threads, however, can be clearly seen, and the harp and its music and special powers of enchantment feature in many of the songs.

Mortal men or maidens were likely to succumb to the charms of faery harp-music. The evil Knight in some versions of ‘Lady Isobel and the Elf Knight’ begins his seduction of the earthly princess by playing his harp to bind the rest of the household in sleep.⁹

“He’s taen a harp into his hand

He’s harped them all asleep

Except it was the King’s daughter

Who one wink couldna get.”

The seer, Thomas of Ercildoune — True Tammas — as he is enticed into the arms of the Faery Queen is invited to:

“Harp and carp wi’ me, Tammas,

Harp and carp alang wi’ me

But if ye daur tae kiss my lips

Sure of your body I will be.”¹⁰

The music of the harp is again used to seduce, but it is the physical contact with the faery which seals his fate.

Mermaids, whose power to lure seamen to their doom with their songs is well-known, are sometimes represented in Scottish carvings playing the harp.¹¹ The siren-like attractions of the mermaid, the enchanting nature of the instrument; the golden hair, the shining harp-strings; the similar actions of combing their locks or caressing the strings, may all have combined to account for the harp appearing as an attribute of the sea-maiden.

Certainly mermaids seem to have enjoyed harp music, as is illustrated by the Gaelic tale “A’ Mhaighdean Mhara”, collected in South Uist by J.F. Campbell.¹² The King’s daughter is trying to find her vanished husband. “And she took her harp to the shore and sat and played and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than any other creatures, and when she saw the sea-maiden, she stopped. The sea-maiden said ‘Play on’; but she said ‘No, not till I see my man again’. So the the sea-maiden put up his head. (Who do you mean? Out of her mouth, to be sure. She had swallowed him.) She played again, and stopped, and then the sea-maiden put him up to th...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Original Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Foreword
• 1. Myth & Magic
• 2. Shapes & Stones
• 3. Clarsach & Cruit
• 4. Harp & Carp
• 5. Harps of Their Owne Sorte
• 6. Fiction & Facts
• 7. Court & Courtiers
• 8. The Scots Lairds
• 9. Irish Interplay
• 10. Highland Harpers
• 11. Rory Dall Morison & His Contemporaries
• 12. The Atholl Connection
• 13. Fading Echoes
• 14. Puirt, Uirt & Orgain
• 15. Classical Revival
• 16. A Harp New-strung
• Appendix
• Index