The aim in collecting, noting, and harmonising these airs was aesthetic rather than theoretic. The songs selected for publication from among the hundreds that were heard sung, were chosen for their beauty or their character, their historical or national qualities, and not for the sake of illustrating scale theories. And yet it may interest such as seek to account to themselves for their own musical impressions if I attempt a popular exposition of the tonality of this music (of the scales, i.e., which are used in the construction of these melodies), and make also, for convenient reference, a rough classification of the airs, on the basis of their scale-character on tonality.

By a scale we mean a certain relative arrangement of tonal material (sounds of different pitch), and whereas, in the European harmonic music of the last three centuries, the scale varieties (for harmonic reasons) have been reduced to two (the so-called major and minor), the Scoto-Celtic melodic music, on the contrary, still makes use of at least twelve. "The varied gradations of expression," says Helmholz, "which moderns attain by harmony and modulation had to be effected by the Greeks and other nations that use homophonic music by a more delicate and varied gradation of the tonal modes." And it is precisely to such variety of mode that we may trace much of the strangeness of this old-world music. Its character and strength, on the other hand, bear the impress of the race which fashioned it and used it for centuries, while its subtlety and beauty reflect the qualities of environment, the mystery and beauty of the hills and the sea and the sea-girt shores of the Western Isles.

To facilitate reference and comparative study we have grouped the airs in the volume according to their scales.[1]

The scale we choose first for illustration has a very strong individuality, although differing in but one of its seven degrees from the corresponding seven degrees of the modern major scale. This potent difference lies in the 7th degree of the scale, which in the modern scale is major, in the Hebridean scale is minor. The different degrees of the scale are members of a tonal system, of which a chosen key-note or tonic is the centre. The nearer a note of the scale lies to the tonic (or to the tonic chord) the more it strains to reach it, and the 7th degree of the modern major scale, lying as it does only half a tone below the key-note, strains or leads up to it very strongly, and is therefore a potent factor in the tonality or inter-relativity of the notes of the scale. In the favourite Celtic form of the major scale, the 7th lies a whole tone below the keynote, and the consequent want of the excessively sensitive leading-note gives this form of the major scale a character of austere strength awanting in the other. That the powerful character of this whole-tone-below-the-key-note 7th (i.e., minor 7th or flat 7th as it has been variously called) was as much felt by the old-time Celtic musicians who were familiar with it, as it is by us to whom it is unfamiliar and quaint, is evidenced by their use of it. Witness the employment of it in the Seal-Woman’s Croon, where it emphasises the words "Cadal trom" = "deep sleep"; on the word trom = deep, it is most effectively prolonged. And in the "Dunvegan Dirge," note the cold shudder of desolation that it excites at its every recurrence. Those who would accustom themselves to the scale should take first the tune which I picked up in Barra to "Mo ghille dubh ciar dubh," in which the complete scale, without a single characteristic Scoto-Celtic "gap," comes tripping down in the last line of the tune as if to force itself upon our attention.

Ducoudray, the well known collector of Greek and Breton airs, traces the affinity between present day Greek and Celtic folk-tonality, not to the influence of the church modes, as some do, but to a pre-pythagorean common source. That is to say, in all probability Greeks and Celts alike in the earlier stages of the evolution of the race, shared a common racial music formed on such scales, and all we may owe to the Greeks in this matter may be the classification and naming of modes that had already long been in use. The mediæval church, on the other hand, which borrowed its modes from the Greeks, confused the names of them in so doing, and if we would call the scale we have been discussing by its Greek name, it would be the Ionic, by its ecclesiastical name, the Mixolydian.

The Church, however, distinguished between two forms of each scale, calling these (1) authentic or (2) plagal according as you chose your (1) keynote or your (2) fifth of your scale for your final. In the "Loch Leven Love Plaint," "Chuir mo leannan," the plagal form of the scale under discussion will be found. But if we have these two (do-final and sol-final) forms of the major scale with the flat 7th, we find also in Hebridean music both authentic and plagal forms of the everyday major scale, the scale which has over-run modern Europe and killed off by its exuberant growth and harmonic expansion many other beautiful and pregnant melodic scales, which at one time flourished with it, side by side. In the Sheiling Song we have the complete modern major scale with the orthodox leading-note and convincingly conclusive do-final.[2]

This familiar modern major scale and its quaint old-fashioned sister-scale with the flat 7th, are but parts of a more extended series of tones which has been called the natural scale, a series of sounds originally built up, not from octaves, but from conjointly and disjointly linked tetrachords or series of four notes: —

These tetrachords could be linked together diatonically conjointly or disjointly thus :—

NOTE.—In order that the singer may easily detect and feel the effect of the flat 7th which takes the place of the modern leading note, I have indicated it, as a rule, with an accidental flat or natural as the case may require. We have a precedent for such a notation. Two centuries ago the leading note was, even in major scales (as still in minor), noted with an accidental.

In order to bring the junction of the upper two tetrachords into line with that of the lower two, the B of the upper one was made transmutable, i.e., it might be used either as B natural or as B flat, thus:—

and melodies in which the B is thus transmutable are still commonly found out in the isles. In Clanranald’s Song, "Biodh an deoch-sa’laimh mo ruin,"[3] we have a tune formed on such a scale in which this phrase shows the two forms of the B:—

The scale varieties passed in review have all been major. There is still another complete major scale, comparatively rare, it is true, but of which we give here a perfect specimen, noted in Eriskay from the singing of Duncan Macinnes, the crofter-fisherman with the wonderful store of old songs and sgeulachdan.

The scale (from F to F) on which this tune is constructed differs from the orthodox major scale in the nature of its 4th degree. The B in the melody indicated by an asterisk would, in the orthodox major scale, be B flat.

Of complete minor scales (scales with a minor 3rd above the keynote) there are three, the re, mi and la scales; but, before taking them up, we shall first illustrate some major scales which are incomplete or "gapped.’

These "gapped" scales are characteristic of Hebridean and indeed of all Scots Folk-tonality. Certain of these gapped scales are to be found elsewhere only in the Far East, in the music of China and Japan. In their pure form these scales consist of five notes instead of seven to the octave. It is a favourite trick to find them on keyboard instruments on the black keys thus: EX.6 But, to correlate them with the scales we have been discussing, let us take the modern major scale, and remove its 4th and 7th degrees; we have thus one form of the five-toned or pentatonic scale: do re mi - sol la - do.

In many Scots airs we find a hybrid form of this scale, a form in which there is but one gap to the octave, i.e., in some the 4th alone is omitted, in others the 7th. Examples showing the omission of the 4th are "The Eriskay Lullaby," "The Eriskay Love Lilt," and "The Hebridean Mother’s Song." In "The Ship at Sea" we find a scale which "gaps" the 7th, and in "The Love Wandering" a similar scale (cadencing however, on the 5th.)

These examples of partially gapped scales will serve to introduce us to the genuine pentatonic forms which may be said to constitute the tonal basis of perhaps a third of all the airs native to the isles.

Five distinct scales are obtainable from the pentatonic formula. If for convenience we call the five tones of this system Do re mi - sol la - we shall find airs constructed on:

(a)

Do

re

mi

-

sol

la

-

or

-

-

To represent the Black Keys.

(b)

re

mi

-

sol

la

-

do

-

-

(c)

mi

-

sol

la

-

do

re

-

-

(d)

-

sol

la

-

do

re

mi

-

-

(e)

sol

la

-

do

re

mi

-

sol

-

-

thus obtaining five different arrangements of what Sir Hubert Parry calls "this curious and characteristic formula of five."

Examples following the above order are: (a) The Mull Fisher’s Song—"S a Mhairead òg; (b) The Fairy’s Love Song—"Tha mi sgith"; (c) The Death Croon—"An Cronan Bais"; (d) Sea sorrow—"Beul a’ mhire"; and (e) The Hebridean Sea-Reivers’ Song—"Na Reubairean." Be it said, this classification is tentative only, since "in these scales of five tones the determination of the tonic is," according to Helmholz, "much more doubtful than in the scale of seven tones."

But there is a factor which militates against the determination of the tonic in Scots folk tunes, a factor which must never be lost sight of in trying to follow the interlacements of this elusive tonal system. The tunes were framed for repetition.

The songs were almost invariably long, consisting often of many verses strung on strongly characteristic recurrent refrains. They were intended, in the case of labour songs, to carry one over long stretches of monotonous labour. To this end it was essential that they should have an inherent circular quality; that they should tend to turn ever upon themselves; that they should appear to end, not at the end but at the beginning; that the last note, contrary to custom, should in its very nature be un-restful and onward-driving, carrying the singer perforce to the inevitable repetition. Indeed, the mysterious fascination of much of this music arises in all probability from this very quality of elusiveness which renders it so difficult to classify. The tunes haunt the mind’s ear and endlessly repeat themselves, whirling ever wheel-like through the brain, since like the wind they come and go as they list, and have no definite tonic by which we may hold them fast.

As examples of this difficulty of classification, take the two pentatonic tunes "Tha mi sgith" and the Milking Song—"Odha ciaraig"; both end on re, but while in the first case, this re may be felt to be a tonic, in the Milking Song it may be felt to be a downward leading-note carrying us back to the first note of the tune, to which indeed, it has been allowed to fall (in our arrangement) at the final close.

But apart from classification, the whole question of the sturdy survival among us Scots of the ancient pentatonic scales is one of great interest. That we should find them in the folk music of the Scots and Irish Celts, and apparently nowhere else in our Western civilization, raises many questions. Why have these scales been preserved only here and in an ancient civilization like that of China and Japan? The best known tunes of the daoine-sith or mound dwellers are pentatonic, as for instance, the favourite "Crodh Chailein" :—

in the pentatonic Do mode, as also the "Tha mi sgith" in the pentatonic Re mode.

That the mound-dwellers had music of their own, and that the Gaelic-speaking dwellers above ground borrowed it when they got the chance, is implied in many an old folk-tale. Sian, soft sorrowful music, issued from the green knoll, and the "slender women of the green kirtles and the yellow hair" sang lullabys and love songs. The old women in Barra, from whom I collected songs, spoke of the Fairy tunes as having been sung, not by the daoine-sith, but by the "bean anns a’ bhruth "—the woman of the burrow. Since it is believed that the people who inhabited the mound-dwellings were probably, like the Finns and the Lapps, of Mongolian origin, may it not be that their racial scale was the pentatonic formula,[4] that this passed from them to the Gael, and from these again, by a process of filtration, into Lowland Scotland? For this ancient five-tone scale permeates all Scots folk-tonality, and as the Celtic tongue, literature and culture are more ancient than the Lowland speech and folk-art, we may reasonably suppose that Lowland music in this, as in many other respects, is indebted to Highland.

Of the music of the Isles-Folk about 1690, Martin says, "They have a great genius for Music and Mechanics. There are several of them who invent Tunes very taking in the South of Scotland and elsewhere. Some musicians have endeavoured to pass for first inventors of them by changing their name, but this has been impracticable, for whatever language gives the modern name, the tune still continues to speak in the true original, and of this I have been shewed several instances." And this process of Lowland assimilation of Highland music has gone on steadily ever since Martin’s time.

Ducoudray, on Breton music, distinguishes between the tunes of the French Borderland, which he classes as demi-sang, and those of Brittany proper, which he designates pur-sang, but it might be difficult to make always a like distinction between Lowland and Highland tunes, because of the process of assimilation which, be it said, may be mutual. Burns, as we know, was a great admirer of Highland tunes, and wrote Lowland lyrics to them. Tannahill likewise, with his "Dear Highland Laddie O," made popular in the Lowlands a beautiful Highland tune. And thus we find that not only have many pure Highland tunes been annexed by the Lowland Muse, but that they have been its direct source of inspiration.

Further, in Ayrshire, Burns possibly came in contact with the music of the Cymric Celts, who once occupied that part of Scotland, and who may have left their own peculiar airs behind them.[5] But, leaving this pregnant question of the probable source of the pentatonic scale, and resuming the scale classification of the airs, we find that there still remain three seven-toned, or heptatonic scales, to consider. These are the three minor scales, i.e., scales with the minor third. Theoretically there ought to be seven heptatonic scales, in practice there seem to be only six.

			Greek Names.	Mediæval Names.	On White Keys of Key- board Instrument.
	Do	Scale	Lydian	Ionic	C to C		Major 3rd.
	Sol	"	Ionic	Myxolydian	G to G
	Fa	"	Hypolydian	Lydian	F to F
	Mi	"	Doric	Phrygian	E to E		Minor 3rd.
	Re	"	Phrygian	Doric	D to D
	La	"	Eolic	Eolic	A to A

Of the minors, the Mi mode is the most strikingly unlike the scales in every day use. In his "Sensations of Tone," Helmholz says of it, "It has a peculiar character which distinguishes it altogether from other modes. It is suited for the expression of dark mystery, deep depression and an utter lapse into melancholy in which it is impossible to collect our thoughts. On the other hand, as its descending leading-note (the minor 2nd above the key-note) gives it a certain amount of energy in descent, it is able to express earnest and majestic solemnity!"

The Spartan boys, it is said, were exclusively taught this Mi (doric) mode, because it was considered to breathe dignity, manliness, and self-dependence. One example is the air to which "Tir-nan-Og" and the Skye-Fisher’s Song have been set. Tunes in this mode are comparatively rare. If the characteristic minor 2nd be omitted, or "gapped," the scale resembles that of La. Two such gapped specimens are "Sea Sounds"—"Gair na Mara," and a Harris Love Lament—"Ailean Donn."

The La and Re modes, which alone remain to be considered now, may be said to be fore-runners of the modern minor, which indeed is but a modified combination of the two. The La and Re scales differ from each other in the character of the 6th alone, which is major in Re and minor in La. If in tunes on these scales the 6th be "gapped" the tunes may be classified as belonging to either. A specimen of such a gapped Re or La scale will be found in "The Bens of Jura"—"An T-Iarla Diurach."

Folk-song singers, like folk-song collectors, have their own tonal affinities, and one old salt, a Barra fisherman, seemed partial to the Re mode. He was known as the Bard of Briunish and sang the old airs to songs of his own making. He sang air after air to us in the Re mode (and if the evidence of the phonograph be taken) at about the Re pitch. In this mode the optional use of Bb and Bnat[6] seems to have been customary alike in Greek and in mediaeval practice, and we find frequent examples of this transmutable B in the songs of the isles. We give here two:

BARRA BARD’S LAMENT ON TWO YOUNG MEN.
(Mode of D with Bb and Bnat.)

’ILLEAN A HO.

Of the la mode complete, "Alastair Mhic Cholla" will serve as a specimen.

Unfortunately, all these scales, as sung by the people, differ slightly from anything we can convey by any system of notation as yet in use. If in noting them down and thus trying to preserve them by other than the traditional aural method we sacrifice something of their character in this respect, it is imperative that we go further and compensate for this loss by furnishing them with an instrumental accompaniment. If in the days of the Greeks it was found difficult, as Aristotle says, to grasp a unison melody at a first hearing, how much more must that be the case now that we have learnt to rely upon a harmonic accompaniment. A melody, to be fully appreciated by the Greeks, had to become familiar through repetition. The modern art of harmonic accompaniment greatly lessens the need of the familiarizing process, since it helps to reveal, at a first hearing, the salient points and characteristic features of a tune.

"To add harmony to an ancient melody is practically to produce a modern composition on an ancient foundation."[7] There is no traditional method of harmonizing old Celtic airs (although we know from old songs that the harp was used with them), there can therefore be no standard save that of individual taste. If, in the harmonization of the airs in this collection, there may appear now and again a seeming ruggedness or crudity of expression, such has been deliberately chosen as suggesting faithfully and accentuating the peculiar character of the music. A born Celt, with a life-long familiarity with the music, I have tried to preserve the atmosphere of the old songs, and while working at them, I was ever haunted by the impressions of summers spent in a strange sound-world of surging sea and wailing wind and Celtic tonality.

[1] These are the scales which for convenience may be found on the white keys of pianoforte or organ from (1) C to C, (2) D to D, (3) B to B, (4) F to F, (5) G to G, (6) A to A; the pentatonic scales (found conveniently on black keys exclusively, (7) F sharp to F sharp, (8) G sharp to G sharp, (9) A sharp to A sharp, (10) C sharp to C sharp, (12) D sharp to D sharp, (12) a mode or modes containing the notes Bb and Bnat.

[2] The Spinning Song I have treated harmonically in the plagal form of the same, i.e., with the final a 4th below the key-note, but have included it amongst the major scales with a minor 7th, in deference to those who take this view of it.

[3] I phonographed this song late one night in a crofter’s house in Uig, Skye, the country of Flora Macdonald. I had just returned from a pilgrimage to Kilmuir, where the romantic heroine of the Hebrides lies buried. A great Celtic cross marks her grave. It stands like an ancient menhir looking across the Western Sea to the Outer Isles, where she was born.

[4] A recent collection of Lapp Folk-Music by Armas Launis, Helsingfors, 1908, proves that the Lapp music is mainly Pentatonic, vide Internagionale Musik Gegsellschaft Monthly, April, 1909.

[5] Mr. Bruce Home holds that there is a characteristic type of tune found in the south-west of which "My Nannie O," with its wide octave skips, is a good example. The fairy tune, "Tha mi sgith," has a like octave skip. And here is a very energetic specimen sung to me at the Presbytery at Eriskay by the wife of Duncan Macinnes.

[6] About this question of transmutable notes, Cecil Sharpe makes some interesting suggestions in his "Folk Songs—Some Conclusions."

[7] Abdy Williams in "Internazionale Musikgesellschaft Journal."

	This edition © Ogmios Press 2000 (all rights reserved) First published in Songs of the Hebrides, Boosey & Co., London 1909.
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