HORROR IN THE HIGHLANDS

The Highland Clearances of the 18th and 19th centuries were one of the most shameful episodes in Scottish history. Known as Fuadach nan Gàidheal in Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig), the ‘Expulsion of the Gael’ (ie Gaelic-speaking people), another term for the Highland Clearances, is arguably one of the greatest violations that Scotland every committed against itself. The rapid forced depopulation of the Highlands in the 18th and 19th centuries led to mass emigration and extensive damage to traditional Highland life.

The Highland Clearances were actually the continuation of an earlier and often forgotten action against Scotland’s agricultural communities, in the form of the Lowland Clearances. In the 17th century, Scotland was a predominantly agricultural nation. In the aftermath of the Union of the Crowns of 1603, when James VI of Scotland became James I of Britain, peace had descended on the troubled Borders area between the two countries, permitting the growth of a substantial industry in cattle and sheep farming. To help facilitate this, a series of land enclosures commenced to create larger farmsteads, which in turn led to the removal of many smallholdings.

Dispossessed subsistence farmers were forced to seek opportunities elsewhere, most notably emigrating to the nearby Irish province of Ulster from 1609 as part of the Plantation of Ulster. Although this enclosure programme gradually transformed the Lowlands, it would be the sheer pace and brutality of the Highland experience that would later provide such a stain on Scotland’s national conscience.

When Scotland and England politically united in 1707 to form the nation state of Britain, the Gaelic-speaking Highlands and Islands were still regarded as something of another land by Lowland Scotland, not least because it was deemed to be entrenched with Jacobitism. When the Jacobite rebellion led by Bonnie Prince Charlie was finally crushed at Culloden in April 1746, a huge road-building programme commenced to ensure the more rapid deployment of British troops to prevent possible future insurrections, while many clan territories were forfeited to the Crown.

The Highlanders were a clan-based people, their fealty given to chiefs from whom protection was sought in return. Under the 1746 Heritable Jurisdictions (Scotland) Act, many clan chiefs were stripped of their traditional rights, including the right to call their men to arms, but were allowed to continue to collect rents. In addition, the ‘Disarming Acts’ (not repealed until 1872) made it illegal for Highlanders to carry weapons, or to wear tartan or any aspects of Highland dress. The use of Gàidhlig was also discriminated against, with efforts taken to ‘civilise’ the region through the promotion of English in schools.

However, many Highland chiefs had already begun to consider themselves as lairds (landlords) prior to Culloden, with some having removed themselves to society life in Lowland cities and even to England. Their absentee lifestyles required money, and as demand for sheep increased across Britain they saw an opportunity for increased profits. Rents were raised on their estates, those unable to pay emigrated, while others were relocated to cities and coastal areas to seek alternative employment. Remaining inhabitants had no security of tenure, now being treated as ‘tenants’ rather than kinsmen within their ancestral settlements.

EVICTED TO CANADA

The first ‘improvement’ occurred on the Isle of Skye in the 1730s by the McLeod chief, and then at Balnagown in the 1760s under Admiral John Lockhart-Ross. In 1782, Marjory Grant, wife of Duncan MacDonnell, the 14th chief of the clan, leased land on the Glengarry Estate to a sheep farmer. Five hundred of her tenants were evicted and transported to Canada, joining hundreds who had already been forced to emigrate. Her son Alexander, as 15th chief from 1788, later continued the evictions.

In 1792, Caithness-based Sir John Sinclair of Ulbster, the MP responsible for creating the Old Statistical Account of Scotland, introduced the sturdy Cheviot breed of sheep to his Langwell Estate, hoping that it could help to transform the local economy for his tenantry. He was so successful that the British Wool Society began to offer sheep to any Highland laird at a cheap price. Sinclair was later horrified to see that far from benefiting the local tenants, his venture instead accelerated the rate of their evictions.

In Ross-shire in the same year, 400 inhabitants of Strathrusdale swore revenge after cows owned by members of the Ross clan were impounded, for having stepped onto a sheep way operated by two Cameron brothers from Lochaber. The cows were retrieved in a raid, followed by 200 farmers then driving 10,000 sheep from Easter Ross and Sutherland towards Beauly in Inverness-shire. Troops were dispatched from Fort George north-east of Inverness to seize the organisers, with five leaders arrested and convicted, although they escaped. The year 1792 is still known as Bliadhna nan Caorach, the ‘Year of the Sheep’.

SET ON FIRE

On the lands of the Duke of Sutherland, homes were torched on the authority of the estate managers or ‘factors’. Patrick Sellars became the most notorious of those who sought to drive Scots off their lands. He was a sheep farmer from Elgin, Morayshire, who worked as a factor for the Marquess of Stafford (later the 1st Duke of Sutherland) during the most aggressive evictions on the Sutherland Estate. After taking a lease for Culmaily Farm in 1811 with business partner William Young, he demonstrated new agricultural techniques, including land drainage, which yielded a huge growth in crops such as flax, potatoes, wheat and oats, but involved the eviction of 213 people.

Sellars and Young were soon appointed by Sutherland’s wife Lady Stafford as joint factors. From 1811 they evicted 15,000 “barbarous Highlanders” to facilitate sheep farms, prompting riots, with roofs of houses set alight to prevent their reoccupation. In June 1814 a bedridden Margaret Mackay had to be rescued from a flaming property, and died five days later. Sellars was tried for her culpable homicide (manslaughter), and arson, but was acquitted in 1816.

Sellars resigned in 1817, but the evictions escalated under his replacement. He remained as a sheep farmer on the Sutherland Estate at Strathnaver, and passed away in 1851. 

Elsewhere, in islands such as Harris, huge kelp fisheries had been created by the end of the 18th century. When the industry collapsed, the land was cleared of tenants incapable of paying the high rents, and they were replaced with people who could. And 30 families in Scarista were cleared to make way for a sheep farm in 1828. These expulsions continued throughout the terrible famine of the 1840s, and in some places as late as the 1870s.

The Church of Scotland, as the state church, was later condemned by many victims. John McLeod, a witness to the Strathnaver Clearances in 1814, later stated of the ministers that “the oppressors always appealed to them for sanction and justification, and were not disappointed”. On 24 May 1845, 88 people within 18 families were forcibly cleared from Glencalvie in Easter Ross, accepting their desperate situation as God’s will. With nowhere else to go they sheltered in the yard of nearby Croick Kirk, refusing to enter the building out of respect.

Despite prominent campaigns by both The Times and Free Church of Scotland ministers within The Scotsman, the eviction was not repealed. If you visit the kirk today, graffiti scratched by the tenants into the glass of the windows can still be read, including the words “Glencalvie the wicked generation”.

Many of the dispossessed sought to carve out a living as crofters on poor soil lots in coastal communities. By the 1880s rent strikes commenced and land raids began to be enacted to reclaim traditional lands by way of retaliation. A royal commission chaired by Lord Francis Napier was set up to address the crofters’ grievances in 1883, and recorded the testimonies of thousands of Highlands and Islands folk. The resulting first Crofters Holdings (Scotland) Act was passed in 1886, finally granting some security of tenure for the much-diminished population, putting a final end to the Clearances.

Chanter Reeds

A good chanter reed is hard to find, and the process can get pretty expensive. Most bagpipe players spend the better part of their time searching through a box of reeds and trying out each one to find the best ones on offer. If you’ve played through a box of reeds and have separated the few good from the obviously bad, and now have bought your good reeds, you may be wondering if there’s anything you can do to extend the life of your good reeds. From storage techniques to proper maintenance, below you’ll find some tips that will help make your reeds last longer. Regardless of the instrument in question, all reeds should be first and foremost handled with care to prevent damage. 

Preparing the Reed

Before you play any reed, you must first moisten it. Most musicians wet their reeds in their mouths, while a few wet their reeds in a small cup of warm water for a few seconds. Never ever soak a reed, because a saturated reed cannot vibrate correctly, and the chance for it to mold goes up dramatically. It doesn't take much, but moistening your reed before playing is crucial: cane is an organic product which naturally holds water. Wetting the reed allows water to fill the interior of the numerous hollow tubes spreading across both ends of the reed, filling them and allowing flexibility while vibrating hundreds to thousands of times per second. Lick the reed to moisten it. Reed makers recommend blowing through the reed a few times - silently - because the moisture in your breath is usually enough to wet the reed, but that takes several minutes to ensure the reed is saturated, so most players simply moisten it with a quick lick both sides before placing the reed in the reed seat of their chanter. Once the reed is moist, gently screw the reed into the reed seat from the top. Be careful not to over or under-tighten; the reed should feel snug in your fingers, but not too tense, and the high A and low A should be exactly an octave apart.

Clean Mouths = Clean Instruments

If you use your spit to moisten your reeds, and you worry about hygiene, consider rinsing your mouth with mouthwash or brushing your teeth before you do so. In a few cases, the bacteria from your mouth can accumulate on the reed causing mold formation, so it’s best to avoid any possibility of contamination. If you’re concerned about maintaining the cleanliness of your instrument, use a cup of clean water to moisten your reeds, instead. If this isn’t a possibility or if you prefer to moisten them with your mouth, speak with your band teacher about how often you should be disassembling your instrument for a deep clean. It’s recommended that in all cases you should clean and disassemble your instrument monthly to check reed condition, check hemp and ensure joints are airtight, as well as adding bore oil and new hemp during its annual maintenance. You may need to do this more or less depending on how often you use your instrument.

Mold 

We’ve all done it. Left our chanter in the pipes after a grueling gig and never got around to pulling the chanter out of the stock. It’s now a week later, and you pull the chanter to find a small, fuzzy, grey garden covering your reed. It’s mold. Mold will destroy a reed because the mycelia (mold roots) secrete enzymes that break down the cellulose in the cane. A microscopic fungus, mold thrives in warm, damp, and humid environments with organic material, such as a bagpipe chanter stock. It can grow on many surfaces, including fabric, wood, glass, and plastic, and may appear as black stains, specks, or grey furry growth. Mold growth is influenced by moisture, temperature, substrate type, and exposure time. 

Airing out and drying off the reed thoroughly after playing, using a reed cap and generally keeping moisture away from the reed will prevent mold from getting established, which is essential in keeping a good reed alive. I have actually salvaged reeds that had mold on them by removing them from the chanter, wiping them off with tissue paper dampened with plain water, and then setting them on tissue paper to dry out. They look spotted and stained, but I can still play them. I just have to remember not to put them in my mouth to moisten the reed … 

You will hear of stories where the piper has soaked the reed in Listerine, Dawn, alcohol, whisky, and innumerable other folk concoctions. The chemicals in those products all digest cellulose, the matrix our cane reed is made of. Essentially, you’ve just taken a damaged reed and subjected it to more assault - and shortened the life of your reed to boot. Contrary to popular belief, saliva does not break down reeds, because it's biochemically unable to. Saliva has enzymes in it which assists our gut in processing complex proteins and sugars, but not enough to damage a mainly cellulose and fiber reed. If there is mold on the reed, simple cleaning with moist tissue and drying in air is all you need to do, however, understand a moldy reed is damaged, and won’t last. Keep a new reed as backup. 

Playing the Reed

Once you have done all the “crowing” blowing tests (and your maddened spouse has left the building), put the reed into the chanter, moisten it, and play for a bit. You'll want to make sure that your pipes are adequately warmed up (typically, 10-15 minutes) and you are "blowing steady". If your drones are wavering due to uneven blowing pressure, you'll be trying to tune your chanter to a moving target which will be very difficult. (If you are not sure if you are blowing steady, record yourself and listen - it'll be pretty obvious.) 

Here’s how pitch works: The length of the air column, from the reed to the end of the  drone, determines the pitch. The longer the air column, the lower the pitch. The same  principle applies to the chanter. Think of the open hole as the end of the chanter. The distance from the reed to the top of the open hole determines the pitch. When you cover part of the top of the hole, the air travels further, lowering the pitch. 

Here is how tape works: If you put a little bit of tape at the top of the hole, it effectively  lowers the top of the hole, lengthening the distance the air needs to travel, and therefore makes that note a little bit lower in pitch—flatter. We use tape to adjust a note that is too sharp (too high in pitch) and make it flatter or lower in pitch. It works really well and allows pipers to get precision control of the tuning of every note on the chanter. 

Now, play Low “A”, then high “A”. If the High “A” sounds sharp, or higher than the low “A”, you need to lengthen the distance between the reed so the top of the holes will lower their pitch. If your reed pitch is too sharp, you must move the reed upwards by gently rotating it and easing it up in the reed seat. If the reed comes out, add more hemp to the base of the staple until it fits firmly and at the height needed to flatten the high hand.

If the high “A” sounds flat, shorten the distance between the reed and the top of the holes to raise the pitch. If your reed pitch is too flat, you must move the reed downward by twisting the reed in the reed seat to move it further in. This may require you to remove hemp from the base until it can seat firmly and correctly. More on tuning your reed in a bit.

Remember, you can always tape the top of the finger hole of a sharp note to flatten it, but taping the bottom to sharpen it rarely works. Move the reed in/down in the reed seat.

Modifying Reeds

Why would someone alter a chanter reed? Maybe it requires the wrong pressure or it doesn't sound right. Almost all manipulations are made on new reeds. If a new reed is a "gut buster" ( too hard to play right now) there's a few things you can do.

Play it until it softens up. This can take weeks, but is the safest method and leaves you with the strongest reed. Just plug up the drones and play it as long as you can, it may only be five or ten minutes. Over a week or two, when comfortable, add a drone until you have your full set going. If after a few weeks it's stopped getting easier to play and it's still too hard, then think about taking a more proactive step.

Hydrate the reed some more. Dip it in water for a second or two, blow through it for several slow breaths, or lick it gently, then shake it out and dry it off, then play it. New reeds are usually pretty dry and need moisture. Don't ever soak a reed, it can warp. You can repeat this, but less dramatic hydration is better. Store the reed in a reed cap to keep it from drying out too much, or ideally, use a humidor type cap to help regulate humidity.

Pinch it with your fingers. This will temporarily ease a reed (and raise its pitch). Try to keep pinching to the top third of the reed for a count of 60, then try it out. If you squeeze too low and too hard you will collapse the sound box and destroy the reed. You can repeat pinching, but again less is better. If you overdo it, a mandrel or reed poker may help open the reed back up. Shepard make a gadget that will do the pinching for you. It’s inexpensive, and it does seem to work.

Install a rubber band bridle. Slide an orthodontics rubber band wrapped a few times over the staple up past the lacquered hemping to a point about 1/5 of the way up the exposed cane of the reed to create a bridle. If this makes it too easy, slide it down a bit. If it's still too hard, move the bridle up a bit - too high though, and the top hand will sound a little thin. After a few weeks to months and the reed eases, this bridle may be removed or gradually worked down the reed as time goes on. If you wrap the rubber band very tight or the reed is weak or you just want to be safe, it'll be best to only slide the bridle up during playing sessions, and to lower it back to the supported staple area after.

Pinch the staple with pliers. This is way more drastic and usually unnecessary. Needle-nose pliers either well wrapped in tape or covered with leather works well. If you squeeze too hard, but haven't damaged the blades, you can open the staple back up with a mandrel or a reed poker.

Sand/Scrape it. This is irreversible. Removing part of the cane from the reed can not only reduce required pressure, but may also have the unintended side-effect of altering the pitch and "crow" of a reed. Dangerous "red zone" areas that typically affect sound also are: the top strip of the reed, the sound box, and the area down the center of the blades. Where you scrape depends some on the type and make of reed. A very drastic step is to carve notches at both edges of the reed a bit above the hemp line - only if you really have to, such as "the parade is tomorrow!" On a ridge cut reed, you can scrape/sand down a bit on the pronouced ridge itself. Never take a brand new reed and scrape it down to your usual comfortable blowing pressure. Always leave "room" for the reed to weaken. If you start at soft, it'll turn to mush later.

Trim it. Only do this IF YOU ARE CERTAIN THE REED IS WORTH SACRIFICING, and you know what you are doing. This is 100% irreversible. Cutting the vibrating edge off will definitely sharpen the reed. However, not only does this reduce required pressure and sharpen the pitch, but it can also have the unintended side-effect of changing the sound of a reed, making it harsher and shriller on the high hand. I would use this as a last-ditch effort only. The cut must be tiny, accurate, perpendicular to the reed body, and done with a razor blade to preserve the edge where the sound comes from. If you have some moldy, chipped or blown-out reeds, experiment with these first, before attempting to attack a good reed that cannot be sharpened any other way.

Change your chanter. Sometimes, for any reason (and sometimes none at all) a reed just will not tune in your chanter that day. If you have taped every hole you have and your chanter is beginning to look like a ragged maypole, maybe it’s not the reed. Take it out, and put it in another chanter, then try tuning it in that one instead. Often, this happens when you absolutely have to sound your best, and it’s an aggravation you just don’t need. I carry two poly chanters - one is the squawker chanter that came with my poly Gibson knock-offs, the other is a G1 Platinum Poly Pipe Chanter which seems to pitch about 5 cents higher in my pipes. In my 80 year old blackwood Lawries, however, I play a Gibson poly chanter, but I carry a plain Chris Apps rosewood and an RJM (Roddy MacLeod) solo blackwood with a silver sole for really special events. In the Lawries, all of them seem to pitch within 2 cents of each other, and I have tape only on the Apps chanter for the F and G holes.

Bottom line, it’s not always the reed.

Reed Death

So how to you know if a reed is dying? It will tell you. A "blown out" reed will begin to behave erratically: notes will be right one moment and way off the next, a G gracenote might honk before correcting, or the transition from high hand to low hand will make the reed wail and screech, or the lower hand will double tone, or … you get the drift. To quote the movie Ghostbusters: "Cats and dogs living together - mass hysteria!" It may be hardly noticeable at first. A note that acts weird every few days or simply after playing a long time. A reed that doesn’t perform or changes pitch on you when the event is in the heat. Or, the reed gets easier and easier until it no longer plays in tune despite repositioning and taping. Gradually it just gets worse until you have to replace it. Edges get bent or split. The blades themselves look wrinkled. There’s thick mold growing on the reed. The split in the cane goes from the lip to the staple. Time to throw it away.

Remove Moisture 

Once you’re finished playing, it’s important to remove any excess moisture around your reed. (See Mold above) You can do this by completely removing the chanter from the stock, wiping the reed dry with a tissue, and storing it under a reed cap to dry out. Whatever you do, don’t take your reeds out and keep them in a sealed plastic bag. Over time, this can actually induce mold and mildew to form. Plus, prolonged soaking without allowing natural evaporation will make the reed too porous, changing its vibration characteristics and shortening its life. Fluctuation in moisture, humidity, and temperature greatly affect how your reed plays, which is why reed humidifier caps have become so popular. It’s just my opinion but I believe these expensive humidors only prolong reed life for a few extra weeks at most, with the only advantage being that a reed stored under a humidor cap might actually be ready to play several minutes before a licked reed is. If it works for you, though, go for it - there's a reason many top players swear by them. The more you become familiar with your reeds, the more you’ll become aware of how these changes affect your reed’s performance. 

Store Them Properly

Storing your new chanter reeds in a proper reed case keeps them flat as they dry, which prevents warping. Additionally, it’ll keep your reeds from being damaged as you transport them to and from practice in your instrument case. Many pipers assume that storing reeds in the clear plastic cases they’re packaged in will suffice, but those cases don’t actually keep them flat, they just keep them from chipping during shipping. A quality reed case can also prevent accidental chips since pipers can more easily slide the reeds into place. A small reed case typically holds four reeds and are usually available for $20 or less. If you’re concerned about the price, think about the case as an investment: it’ll quickly pay for itself in the money you’ll save on purchasing replacement reeds.

Cap the Chanter

This is the first thing you should ALWAYS do after playing. You remove the chanter from the wet environment of the stock, dry the reed off using some tissue, and then isolate it in a reed protection cap with a vent hole. Be very careful as chipping or knocking the reed against the stock or cap will ruin the reed. Check the chanter bore for any moisture that has run down from the reed. If it's wet, you can use a small brush to carefully wick the moisture away. Use this opportunity to replace any tape on the chanter that appears slippery. 

One might think that it would be advantageous to keep the reed very moist - eliminate one variable, so to speak - by leaving the chanter attached to the bagpipe bag. However, moisture is a catalyst for mold growth. Mold breaks down a reed and will greatly reduce its life span. A moldy reed is a damaged reed, and replacing it before its time becomes expensive. Consequently, most pipers remove their chanters from the bag after playing as they pack their pipes away, and use a "reed cap" (sometimes called a "chanter cap" or "dry stock") to protect the reed while it is seated in the chanter.

Some find that a chanter reed cap with a built-in moisture stabilization system will keep their chanter reed "just right" and ready to go. One reed maker that I know swears that it's the cycle of drying out then rehydrating that shortens a reed's lifespan. I have no good reason to dispute that. A specialized cap should help keep a reed's moisture content more stable. Some very experienced pipers say that the humidor caps are a solution in search of a problem, and that such a cap makes little noticeable difference to them. As with most things with piping, there are claims either way.

Rotate Your Reeds 

Playing the same reed day after day will wear it out quickly, so it’s important to consistently rotate your reeds. Many experts recommend playing a different reed every day to give the others a break. If you’re using a brand new reed, it should only be played for about five minutes a day during the first week. In most cases, the new reed has been bone dry for at least a year or two before you purchased it, and this 5 minute breaking in process slows down the warping process and allows for more complete rehydration and stabilization. Always have several reeds in top playing condition in your rotation. Avoid playing any reed longer than 30 minutes in a practice session, or longer than 60 minutes in a rehearsal or performance. Playing any reed for prolonged intervals wears it out, and the longer you play a reed in any single session the faster the reed breaks down; therefore, shorter periods of playing with reed rotation are ideal.

Above All, Be Patient 

Reeds have a well-deserved reputation for being difficult, finicky, and a pain to deal with. Unfortunately, it’s just something that we as musicians have to learn to deal with. If a reed warps or chips, don’t stress out and do your best to manage your patience. Just because a reed is warped doesn’t mean you have to throw it out. Simply moisten it daily and let it try out on a flat surface. Over time, you may notice that it’ll straighten itself out. A chipped or torn reed, though, is toast. Replace it as soon as possible, because it will only get worse. Following the above reed care tips will save you time, money, and frustration. If you find that they work for you, share the knowledge with your friends and bandmates, and let us know what they think.

This is a reprint of the inaugural blog post I authored for the site, with contributions from P/M Bill Muzzy.

What exactly is Piobaireachd?

Piobaireachd (pronounced “pea-brock”) is regarded as the classical music of the Great Highland Bagpipe. It is also known as Ceol Mòr, meaning “Great Music.” This genre is distinctly different from Ceol Beag (“Little Music”), which encompasses marches, slow airs, and various dance tunes such as jigs, reels, strathspeys, and hornpipes. While some piping purists (not pointing fingers at Doc, of course) refer to piobaireachd as “the brose and butter,” and Ceol Beag as “bluidy fireworks,” most enthusiasts appreciate the intricate beauty and detail found in both styles.

Piobaireachd compositions date back several centuries, with origins tracing as far back as the 1400s. What distinguishes piobaireachd from other Celtic music is its traditional performance as a solo on the Great Highland Bagpipe.

We believe every dedicated piper should learn at least one piobaireachd. Recommended beginner pieces include Glengarry’s Lament, Macintosh’s Banner, The Company's Lament, and Massacre at Glencoe. Several St. John’s Pipers are currently studying these for their personal development. Piobaireachd demands strong memory, precision, and musical expression—skills that significantly enhance performance in lighter music as well.

Piobaireachd tunes are generally longer than light music and are structured around a central theme known as the Ground or Urlar, followed by multiple variations that get steadily more complex as they are played. These variations reinterpret the main melody with diverse rhythms and technical embellishments. Common variations include taorluath, crunluath, and occasionally the formidable crunluath-a-mach—among the most challenging and advanced techniques in piping. Piobaireachd is typically based on a pentatonic scale, reputed to resonate beautifully across the Scottish valleys. It is crafted to be appreciated both from a distance and in close proximity.

Due to its rich heritage, piobaireachd tunes often commemorate specific individuals, clans, or historic events. Notable titles include Too Long in this Condition, The Piper’s Warning to his Master, The Lament for the Children, Beloved Scotland, and The Little Spree. More contemporary compositions like Beloved Scotland even have band arrangements. Observing master pipers perform these pieces (YouTube offers an excellent resource) vividly demonstrates the bagpipe’s remarkable expressive and emotional range in expert hands—sure to inspire greater precision and artistry in your own playing.

Many pipers regard Piobaireachd as the pinnacle of bagpipe music—both the most fulfilling and the most demanding to master. Prestigious piping competitions, such as the Gold Medals at Inverness and Oban, are awarded to performers who excel in Piobaireachd alongside traditional marches, reels, and strathspeys. 

Ultimately, Piobaireachd enables the piper to profoundly connect with the audience’s soul. No listener remains indifferent to a well-executed Piobaireachd—you either embrace it or you do not. Such is the nature of the instrument we cherish.

One of the first things that people tend to associate with Scotland is the tartan. While its association with Scotland is strong, tartan-like patterns have actually been found globally, with examples as far away as the Middle East and Indian subcontinent dating back to 3000 BC. In Scotland, the earliest known true Scottish tartan, the Falkirk tartan, dates to around 250 AD. Although it’s a national treasure, many of us are unaware of the history behind tartan. With this in mind, let's take a closer look into what tartan is, tartan's origins, and its presence in today’s world. 

Today, largely through the power of film and festivals, more and more people are becoming interested in their Scottish heritage. One of the most visible signs of that heritage is the proud tradition of wearing various renditions of Highland Dress. However, as tartan and the kilt became more popular in the last 50 years, it seems that the myths and misperceptions about them continue to spread even more rapidly, especially regarding the history of Highland Dress. William Wallace was portrayed wearing a “great kilt” in Braveheart (yeah, the great kilt actually was not worn in that era), or stage productions of Macbeth with the actors dressed in modern kilts and plaids (which were not even invented at the time), and pipe bands in full military kit performing at “Renaissance” festivals only add to the confusion. 

What is Tartan?

Quite simply, a tartan or plaid is just a type of design on a woven material. The horizontal weft threads cross over the vertical warp threads to create a check. As the check builds, the design begins to mirror and repeat, creating a traditional Scottish Tartan.

The official definition of the word ‘tartan’ according to The Scottish Register of Tartans Act 2008) Section 2 is: “A design which is capable of being woven consisting of two or more alternating coloured stripes which combine vertically and horizontally to form a repeated chequered pattern.”

Tartan fabric is considered a symbol of Scottish identity. It is traditionally made of dyed wool thread, which is woven into a recognizable and repeatable pattern of simple checks, forming a bolt of cloth that is used in clothing and textiles. Initially, the yarns were dyed using natural dyes from native plants, and usually found in only two or three colours, so there was a lot of variance between each thread and weave. Today, with the development of chemical dyes, they can be found in a larger variety of colours and patterns, standardized and reproducible for the mass market. There are so many different combinations of coloured stripes and base colors, so much so that there are roughly 3000 types of tartan now on the official register, and thousands more still used for fashion choices and decoration worldwide. However, despite agencies such as Temu and Shein, only true tartan is used to make a variety of traditional Scottish items including the famous Scottish kilt.

In the Beginning

If one were to go back in time and visit the Highlands of Scotland about 1000 years ago, you wouldn’t see anyone wearing anything that even remotely resembles the modern kilt. The standard garment of the Gael (both in the Highlands of Scotland and in Ireland) was a tunic called a léine, worn over long pants or trews, a Viking invention. Léine is simply the Gaelic word for “shirt” and the styles varied according to the time period. Initially it was a rather simple long tunic, open at the sleeve and pulled on over the head, worn long to mid-calf by the women and either mid-thigh or to the knee by the men, and belted in place with a simple leather belt and penannular clasp.

The trews were considered disposable, because they were woven out of carding scraps, containing seeds, burrs and bits of vegetation that couldn't be easily removed from the fine wool being spun into yarn. Tied around the waist at the top, they were primarily coverings for protection against sharp rocks and other environmental hazards, as well as enclosures for warmth while out on the wilds. They were used hard and washed only when possible, so they obviously became torn, grimy and offensive over time, and were frequently not worn unless absolutely needed for those reasons. Hose made of fine linen thread began replacing them instead - expensive, custom made, and patterned, hose became the mark of the socially successful person.

By the beginning of the sixteenth century the léine had also evolved into a rather elaborate garment that was very full, having sleeves that hung down from the elbow to the knees, and into styles that were either pull-over or that wrapped around and closed with ties and ribbons or leather straps rather like a bathrobe. The belts, too, had become ornate and the buckles complex and decorative, with straps for swords and knives added. The most common color of the léine was saffron, although other colors were possible, but for the most part for all but the very wealthy they were undyed.

So what, I hear you ask. Well, over all this kit, for warmth in Scottish society, a large woolen blanket, shawl or wrap secured by a metal clasp at the shoulder was often worn. This woven mantle was called the brat in Ireland, and in later centuries was called a plaidh in Scots Gaelic (the word originally meant “blanket”). Though tartan cloth was not as common in Scotland then as it would become in later times, these wraps were a woven tartan pattern, because we have archaeological evidence of cloaks of tartan cloth being worn in Scotland from the third or fourth century.

The Belted Plaid

It is this tartan wrap or blanket that would later evolve into the kilt. As I stated previously, the fashion in sixteenth century Gaelic Scotland was for very full clothing. Remember, the idea was the more fabric you had in your clothing, the more affluent you must be! However, with the cost of wool dropping towards the end of the sixteenth century in Scotland woolen plaids began to grow larger with the fashion. At a certain point, people began to gather these large plaids into folds and belt them about the waist, finally forgoing the coarse (and prickly) trews forever as common dress. This gathered wrap became the belted plaid. In Gaelic it was called either feileadh-mór, which means “great wrap,” or breacan-an-feileadh, which means “tartan wrap.” In modern parlance, they are often referred to as “great kilts.” The earliest mention of this garment in the historic record comes from the Life of Red Hugh O’Donnell, written in Irish Gaelic in 1594. This work describes Scottish mercenaries from the Hebrides being noticeable among the Irish because of the difference in their dress. The Scots had risen, naked but for hair shirts, taken up their long blankets, folded them about their waists with the extra length pulled over their shoulders to cover their heads and backs, and then pulled and fixed their belts outside their mantles – the belted plaid.

This garment was about 4 to 6 yards long and on average 50” to 60″ wide (made from two lengths of 25” to 30″ wide cloth sewn together). The length of the cloth was simply gathered up and belted at the waist, with the lower part hanging above the knees and the upper part being brought up to the shoulders and arranged in any number of ways. There were many different ways of wearing the belted plaid, and this garment apparently became the ubiquitous dress of the Highland men during the seventeenth and first half of the eighteenth centuries (isolated instances of its use can be found as late as 1822, but this was likely for ceremonial purposes only – it had long ceased to be a part of daily dress). The female version was the arisaid, which contained somewhat less cloth, was worn long, to the ankles, and usually was made from a white tartan with a wide spaced setting.

Tartan at this time was becoming almost synonymous with Highland Dress, though plaids in solid colors were also worn (as can be seen in the 1618 portrait of the chief of the Campbells of Lochawe). More about that later.

The Phillabeg

If the belted plaid is the grandfather of the modern kilt, then the phillabeg is the father. Phillabeg is the Anglicized spelling of the Gaelic feileadh-beag, which means, “little wrap.” It refers to a garment that is essentially the lower half of the belted plaid. Many today use “phillabeg” to refer to the modern tailored kilt, but the original phillabeg was untailored. Like the belted plaid, it consisted of a length of cloth, usually about 4 yards long, but only 25” wide. In other words, just the lower portion of the belted plaid, without another length of cloth stitched to it. It also was gathered loosely into folds and belted about the waist, the bottom reaching to just above the knee and the top few inches folded and overlapping the top of the belt. Often another length of cloth (what would have been the upper part of the belted plaid) could be worn separately over the shoulders for warmth or protection from the elements.

Much speculation abounds regarding the appearance of the phillabeg. Most historians feel confident in putting its origins towards the mid-to-late seventeenth century. Certainly by the early eighteenth century it was in widespread use, because the belted plaid was a bother to get into and wear. The phillabeg was worn most definitely in the eighteenth century, its use declining after the 1790s when the modern three-buckled tailored kilt was introduced, though it continued to be worn by some as late as the 1820s.

People are fond of recounting the story of how one Thomas Rawlinson, an English weaver and mill owner, supposedly “invented” a beltless phillabeg in the first quarter of the eighteenth century in order to prevent his male Scots workers from getting their kilts caught in the looms, thus scandalising the ladies and interrupting his business. He decided to take 8 feet of tartan and sew it into a wrap with for buckles, two on each side, so the kilt could be worn with pride as well as safety. Wonderful though the story is, the evidence against is lies in multiple paintings and armorial bearings that depict men in what appear to be buckled phillabegs that long pre-date Rawlinson and his buckled mini-kilt. Most likely the buckled version of the feileadh-beag came about as a natural evolution from the feileadh-mor, and the fashion spread around the Highlands of Scotland over time, with tales about Mr. Rawlinson and others helping it along.

The Kilt

Now we have finally come to it. The universal symbol for the Scotsman—the modern, 8 yard, knife-pleated tartan kilt. The tailored kilt differs from the phillabeg in that instead of simply being gathered and belted on, the pleats in the kilt are actually sewn down.

The first instance that we have of this is records of kilts issued by the British military in the 1790s. These first tailored kilts were box pleated to the line. There was no tapering, the pleats were sewn down about 5 inches, and the length of the kilt was selvedge to selvedge (about 25”). The amount of cloth used was between 3.5 and 4 yards, covered by a separate kilted apron of canvas or leather. During the early Victorian era, tailored kilts for civilian wear soon followed suit, only these initially weren't pleated to anything (i.e. to no particular line or pattern), until about 1820 when they, too, began to be pleated to the line as conformity and neatness became fashionable.

The amount of cloth used in the kilt grew to about 5 yards in the mid nineteenth century, as the pattern of the tartans became larger and the box pleats became narrower. In 1853 the Gordon Highlanders were the first regiment to adopt the knife pleat. By the year 1900 knife pleating was the de rigeur in all civilian kilts, and the idea of “pleating to the sett” (i.e. arranging the pleats so that the pattern of the tartan was unbroken) became popular. This new form of pleating caused the amount of cloth used in a kilt to grow to six, seven, even eight or more yards of tartan cloth!

There is a myth today that a true kilt should contain 8 yards of cloth—no more, no less. Any kiltmaker worth his salt would tell you otherwise, but it’s actually a false claim, because what truly determines the amount of cloth in a kilt is the size of the repeat of the tartan, and of course the size around the wearer! The modern civilian kilt has anywhere from 6 to 10 yards of cloth. Recently kilmakers have begun to also offer options that have 4 and 5 yards, a much more comfortable choice that hearkens back to when the kilt was worn as part of the daily dress.

Also, the details of the tailored kilt itself have evolved over time. Waistbands, linings, straps and buckles were added as fashions changed to make it easier to put on, hang up and launder. And what was worn with the kilt changed as well, to reflect the changing fashions of society. We will not delve into such matters as jackets, caps, hose, sporrans, brogues and the like here, but suffice it to say that money and fools make a party.

Dating back to the medieval era, to a time when the Norsemen were driven out of the Highlands and Islands by the Scottish kings, the clan system shaped the political landscape of Scotland for centuries. The modern history of Scotland – including its relationship with England and Ireland – is inextricably linked with the ferocious and fiendishly complicated feuds and fights between these groups as they battled for control of fiefdoms.

Historically there were hundreds of clans spread across Scotland and Ireland, all with their own distinct chiefs, holdings and politics, but the system also included ‘septs’ – families that shared land with a clan and swore allegiance to the chief.

 The Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs, an organisation established in 1951 that claims to be the primary authority on clans, recognises 135 distinct existent clans, while the Lord Lyon King of Arms, a position that has existed since at least 1377, officially oversees Scottish heraldry.

Clanship still exists in many forms, not least in the surnames of many millions of people of Scottish descent around the world. The word stems from the Gaelic clann, meaning ‘children’, and even today, around a third of families living in Scotland are connected to a clan.

KEY CLANS

The powerful Clan Campbell controlled much of western Scotland around Argyll and Loch Awe (but also Perth and Kinross, and Nairn) and played a pivotal part in the major events in modern Scottish history, including the Wars of Scottish Independence, during which they fought on the side of Robert the Bruce at the Battle of Bannockburn (1314) and elsewhere.

However, they opposed the Jacobite Risings and, infamously, soldiers from Clan Campbell of Glenlyon turned upon and slaughtered members of Clan MacDonald, who had been hosting them, during the Massacre of Glencoe on 13 February 1692. At least 30 MacDonalds were murdered that morning, in an event that still scars Scottish history.

The Campbells also fought on the side of the British crown at the decisive Battle of Culloden in 1746 and were instrumental in the suppression of Highland Uprisings in the 18th and 19th centuries. Clan Campbell members formed the basis of The Black Watch, along with three other clans, an infantry battalion of the Royal Regiment of Scotland established initially by the British to patrol the Highlands and suppress insurgencies.

Arguably Scotland’s biggest and oldest clan is Clan Donald, also known as Clan MacDonald or Clan McDonald. With roots that are Norse-Gaelic and join up with ancient Irish royalty, the clan’s name (Clann Dhòmhnaill, children of Donald) originates with Domhnall mac Raghnaill, a powerful Hebridean noble active in the mid-13th century, whose grandfather Somerled was a Norse-Gaelic warlord and the original Lord of the Isles.

The Donalds also fought for Scottish independence with Robert the Bruce before a destructive civil clan war between John MacDonald of Islay and his son, Angus Og MacDonald – which came to a head in the Battle of Bloody Bay in 1481 – weakened the clan and resulted in loss of the Lord of the Isles and Earl of Ross titles in the late 15th century, leading to a great fracture in Highland society.

The Wars of the Three Kingdoms (1639–1651) and Jacobite uprisings put the MacDonalds and the Campbells on opposing sides, and the Massacre of Glencoe cemented the blood feud. The various branches of the MacDonalds supported the Jacobite uprisings in 1715 and 1745.

Many clans spanned the Irish Sea and some wielded power beyond the British Isles. Clanship still exists in many forms, not least in the surnames of hundreds of thousands of Scots. The word stems from the Gaelic clann, meaning ‘children’, and even today, around a third of families living in Scotland are connected to a clan.

 Historically there were hundreds of clans spread across the Scotland and Ireland, all with their own distinct tartans, crests and mottos, but the system also included ‘septs’, families that shared land with a clan and swore allegiance to the chief. 

How many Scottish clans are there?

The Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs, an organisation established in 1951 that claims to be the primary authority on clans, currently recognises 135 distinct existent clans, while the Lord Lyon King of Arms, a position that has existed since at least 1377, officially oversees Scottish heraldry.

FOLK HEROES

Other major clans include the MacLeods, who were famed for their warrior traditions and were caught up in the civil clan war that tore Clan Donald apart. They continued to feud with Clan MacDonald of Sleat through the 15th and 16th centuries.

Clan MacGregor, meanwhile, is famous thanks to the antics of one of their kin, Rob Roy MacGregor, who fought with the Jacobites (as did his clansmen) before becoming an outlaw and leading a campaign against the Duke of Montrose and the British Crown in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. He is heralded as a Scottish folk hero, largely thanks to Sir Walter Scott’s romanticised accounts of his exploits.

Clan Stewart were a historically powerful force directly connected to the Royal House of Stewart, which ruled Scotland (and later Britain and Ireland) for centuries. 

Rivals of Clan Stewart were Clan Douglas, who were involved in multiple feuds and once laid siege to Edinburgh Castle. William Douglas, 8th Earl of Douglas, was murdered by King James II of Scotland who stabbed him in the throat during a dinner at Stirling Castle in 1452 when Douglas refused to swear fealty. 

Although famous for one of its members, Clan Wallace is actually a small Lowlands Scottish Clan originally from Wales (the name of Waleis was common in England and around 1300 meant simply “Welsh-man”. The family held lands in Shropshire an may have come north with King David I of Wales in 1278). The most famous member of the clan was the Scottish patriot William Wallace of the late 13th and early 14th centuries, a Scottish patriot and freedom fighter, whose freeholder family was part of the larger Clan Wallace. Wallace was the laird holder of family estates in Ayrshire.

 -- Pat Kinsella, BBC History

When you think "witch", what comes to mind? A wart faced old woman in a black dress with a broom? Actually, all it took was a birthmark or freckle, or singing and dancing outside, or simply someone's accusation that could have you executed as a witch.

Between 1563 and 1763 Scotland was a country in flux and the resulting paranoia fueled the Scottish Witch Trials. Belief in witchcraft was common during the Middle Ages, but the leaders of the Catholic church were largely skeptical, seeing it as folklore rather than something sinister. Lawyers were only interested in cases where harm was alleged to have taken place and some high-profile political cases have been recorded including the case of John Stewart, Earl of Mar for allegedly using sorcery against his brother King James III in 1479. Cases like this were few in number. However, as Scotland was plunged into the turbulence of the Early Modern Era, attitudes began to change, new laws were formed, and Scotland found itself in the grip of several witch trials and hunts.

Although there have been stories of witchcraft since the beginning of time, persecutions didn't begin until the 1500s. The Witchcraft Act of 1563 in Scotland made it illegal for anyone to be or consort with a witch. The first major persecution, the North Berwick Trials, began in 1590 with King James I and VI. Returning from Denmark with his new bride, a powerful tempest almost killed them. The King believed witchcraft was the cause of the storm and had nearly 100 people arrested. Many were tortured and burnt alive.

The Forfar Witch Hunt of 1661 and the Auldearn Trials of 1662 were prolonged by accusations made by "witches" in order to save themselves. At the Aberdeen Trials, 7 women were accused of using magic to murder others and using body parts from the victims to create potions. The Pittenween Trials of 1704 were based on the word of a 16 year old boy. Each of the accused was tortured. One was even crushed to death under large stones. It was later discovered that the boy had made it all up.

The Renfrewshire Trials of 1695 began when 11 year old Christian Shaw caught a housemaid drinking forbidden milk and threatened to tell her mother. The housemaid told the girl that the devil would take her to hell. Christian began having fits and visions, claiming that the maid was torturing her. She vomited up feathers, hay, wax, stones, even a hot coal. There were accounts of her floating around the room and moving things without touching them. She also accused several others of witchcraft. Over 20 men, women and children were imprisoned and examined by "witch prickers". Several children and one minister were found dead on the morning of the trials. Fourteen of the charged were found not guilty. The remainder were hanged and burned. Christian was cured after the executions.

In Scotland, most witches were hung or strangled before their body was burnt. Burning their mortal remains was an important part of their punishment. It ensured that the devil could not resurrect their bodies for his nefarious purposes. However, sometimes a witch would be burnt at the stake or in the case of the witches in Forres, they would be put in barrels filled with spikes and rolled down the Cluny Hill.  The barrel would then be set on fire where it rested. A stone lies at the base of Cluny Hill today, marking where one such execution took place. 

As civil war raged in England, the independent kingdom of Scotland was forcibly incorporated into a commonwealth with England in 1652. Now occupied by Cromwell’s troops, the Privy council and courts were disbanded. English judges were put in place and there was a sharp decline in the number of witchcraft cases. With the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, Scotland once more gained her freedom and her judicial independence. This prompted a flood of over 600 cases of people charged with witchcraft. The Privy council were alarmed at the rapid rise in trials and banned the use of judicial torture and insisted on the necessity of its commission for an arrest or prosecution.

Largely due to the work of Sir George MacKenzie, the Lord Advocate, standards of evidence were raised. Sir George believed in the existence of witchcraft and that those found guilty should face the death penalty. However, he felt that many innocent people had been sent to death. Although not opposed to the use of torture under certain conditions, he felt that it was inappropriate to elicit confessions from people accused of witchcraft. He felt that many of the local authorities trying witches did not have the appropriate knowledge of the crime and that often the witnesses used were not qualified to participate.

Then in 1662, the witch prickers were finally and publicly exposed as frauds, thus removing a major source of evidence against those accused of witchcraft. The British parliament repealed the 1563 Act in 1736, imposing fines or imprisonment on people who claimed to be able to use magical powers. It is estimated that over 4000 people were executed as witches in Scotland alone. Only 4 "witches" are recorded as being executed in Ireland, and only 3 in Wales. So for those of you with freckles or birthmarks, be thankful that things have changed!!

It's Easter Sunday morning here in Ocean Springs. The sky’s a bit overcast, the usual chores are done, breakfast and coffee have been enjoyed with proper appreciation, and everything feels just right. A perfect moment to relax and reflect on the whirlwind of the past few weeks filled with travel and music. First up, Selma's Ren Fair.

I missed the opening weekend in March due to a prior military commitment, but the first weekend in April, we packed up old Gloria (our trusty 2005 Winnie camper) and headed to the Dalwhinnie Fields to meet our friends and employers, the site owners. It’s a five-hour trip from home in our not-so-speedy, older RV, and we relied on GPS for the fastest route—not necessarily the best one.

The last ten miles were on some truly rough county roads, crawling at about 5 mph, dodging potholes that turned our cabinets into a chaotic mix of pots, pans, clothes, and fridge contents by the time we arrived. Free massages included! Of course, once we shared our bumpy journey with our friends, they said, “Oh no, you definitely don’t want to take that route.” A bit late for that advice, guys! For the brave, avoid any route involving County Road 3 off US 80 near Selma unless you want to test your suspension and nerves. Instead, go through Selma.

Once there, we set up camp. Thursday night was all about catching up with fellow cast members, swapping stories about the weekend we missed (Saturday was a huge hit, Sunday got rained out). We sat by the fire, shared great conversations, played a little music on the small pipes, and enjoyed plenty of whisky. Simply wonderful.

Friday, we toured the site. I got a walkthrough of my joust role and lane performances, plus a basic rehearsal. Then back to our vintage RV for food and company. The fair’s owners have invested hundreds of dollars to make the Ren village and surrounding areas accessible. Everything’s walkable, and there’s plenty of space so it never feels crowded. Lots of seating for those of us who need a break, and the whole site is thoughtfully planned for future growth. Keep an eye on this—it’s going to be a major attraction in the next five years. Plus, it’s close to good hotels and food.

Saturday, I played for the jousters—sun, humidity, and adrenaline made it a short but exciting day. The opening drew a huge crowd, but rain moved in that night. We woke to squalls, occasional thunderstorms, and gusty winds. By 11am Sunday, it was clear the day was a washout, but the 1pm joust still had a good crowd, and the pipes sounded great despite my soaking. I’ll admit I snoozed through the 4pm show—unprofessional and poor planning on my part. I apologized to the troupe, but thankfully, all was forgiven. I really love these folks.

Monday, we packed up wet and drove home—this time taking the Selma route my friends recommended, which was much quicker and easier. We dumped tanks at the Moss Point Welcome Center, then headed home for showers and a much-needed sleep-in. Later, we aired out the RV, cleaned and dried all the damp gear, fixed a battery issue, and ordered new flags for the RV.

The Pensacola Celtic Music Festival was another first for us, and hopefully not the last. The Maguire Pub Pipes and Drums were joined by Hub City Highlanders, Santa Rosa Pipes and Drums, and two seasoned pipers from St Johns Pipers. At 1pm, after some tuning and rehearsing, we marched in to STB repeatedly until we formed our arc, then played medley after medley. And yes, we did play A Grazing Mace. Boo. But hey, it’s a crowd favorite, so…

Red McWilliams and I did a set—he sang, I played the pipes—and it was well received. There were plenty of other performers, from beginners to pros, making for a really fun and eclectic day. If this becomes an annual event, you can bet your donkey I’ll be there. Big shout out to the Pensacola Celtic Society for organizing the Massed Bands—great job, Mike.

The past few days have seen us settling back into the hot seasonal weather with events like a funeral, a fire department graduation, a LEO academy graduation, and other gigs we do for hire. I’ve treated myself to a few impulse buys for the RV and my pipes and am working on several projects for the H&I leadership in preparation for the 2025 games and festival.

Just a reminder—no matter what, even 10 minutes of practice a day adds up. That’s what I’m aiming for, despite all the other curveballs life throws at us.

Happy Easter! And take a moment to remember the real reason for the holiday. Here’s a hint—it’s not about bunnies and eggs.

April is a month filled with the sound of bagpipes! It's a great time to put on your kilt and play a tune or two on your pipes.  This is what is coming up this month:

All of April — Scottish American Heritage Month honors the contributions and influence of Scottish immigrants to North America. 

April 6 – National Tartan Day — This date marks the anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath (1320), a document asserting Scotland's independence from England. It's a great day to wear your family tartan, or a kilt.

April 12 - Massed bands with the McGuire Pub Pipe Band at the Pensacola Celtic Music Festival at 1pm. The event is at the Pensacola Fairground Exhibition Hall, and features music and dancing for 12 hours, along with food and other entertainment in support of the Special Needs Olympics. Come and play with us!

April 25 – Anzac Day — A day of remembrance for the Canadian, Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who fought during World War I, particularly at the Gallipoli Campaign (1915). Many of those who fought were Scottish immigrants, and battling alongside Scottish regiments cemented a strong cultural connection.  Anzac Day reinforces the important role of bagpipes as a symbol of honor and remembrance.