displays his ability, and makes known his strength, by the difficult passages which he executes, and which require much agility in the fingers. The theatre is, at present, the spot where the competition of pipers takes place.” He visited Arran, and thought
Gaelic sounded barbarous (1821, p. 64): “We returned to Brodick, after hearing two sermons, one in English, the other in Gaelic; the latter in an idiom which, to a foreign ear, appears the rudest and most barbarous language, [but] must, nevertheless, be most useful in a country where the English language is so very little used.” He went on to an inn at Loch Ranza,where there was little food but some musical and dancing entertainment (1821, p. 67):“On this occasion I learned . . . that in the Highlands there are itinerant dancing- masters, who . . . make the tour of the isles and mountains, in order to give lessons to the inhabitants, even of the lowest order. As for Cowie [his host], whom we plied well with whiskey, he was ready to leap for joy; not content with scraping with all his might on his violin, he stamped with his feet, hallooed, and made a frightful noise. In fine, tired with all this bustle, we took leave of the company. It well required the fatigue of the day to be able to sleep in the miserable beds which were prepared for us.” The next day they reached a better inn at Shiskin, where they were entertained by a celebrated piper – though he gets a report no better than Cowie the fiddler (1821, p. 69): “The order was given, and blowing vigorously with his bagpipe, there issued sounds capable of deafening the most
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intrepid amateur of this wild instrument.Afterwards he successively played pibrocks, or warlike marches of the tribes; laments, or complaints for the death of the chiefs and heroes; and lastly, reels, or Highland dances.Those of the Inn recognising the airs of the dance, flew to join in it.The bagpipe made such a noise, that it was impossible . . . to hear each other.This animated dance, the singular steps of our guide, the lengthened mien of the Piper, seated gravely in a corner of the room, formed a most grotesque picture.” Necker was convinced that tunes
and poetry belonged together (1821, p. 92-93): “It appears certain that, among the most ancient people, as well as among the most savage nations, the first essays of music have accompanied those of poetry . . .The plaintive and wild verses of Ossian are still sung in the mountains of Scotland, in slow, monotonous airs, but rendered expressive, by a strongly pronounced rythm . . . But when the progress of civilization separated these two arts . . . their history has become very different. Whilst the national language [Gaelic] . . . is altered and disfigured, mixed with the languages of conquerors . . . ; the national music appears to preserve for a long time, its original character, and time alone makes it undergo some modifications, independent of politics and history. . . . The Scots are of the very small number of European nations who possess a truly national music, founded on a system different from all those which are now in use.We find among them, airs and tunes of a melody unique in its kind, which