As a, perhaps notorious, defender of the proper interpretation of
historical information, I felt compelled to comment on Chanter’s brief
article about a bagpiping pig on an Irish postage stamp.1 I
have no problem with $ean $tewart’s presentation, but I do find the text
accompanying the stamp2 annoyingly naïve and potentially
misleading to any reader who is unfamiliar with the real history of
bagpipes. It would be equally wrong to call the bagpipe the pig is
playing a Duda, Chimpoi, Tulum or GHBP. What the pig is playing is as
much Uilleann as a bread roll is a wholemeal loaf or a daisy is a tree.
Inaccuracies and errors in the commentary accompanying the stamp are so
b*****n’ obvious they can’t be ignored.
The pig, as $ean has recognised, like many other bagpiping pigs is a
boar, signified his manly crest, which shows up better in another
version of the stamp picture.4 He is playing a
recognisable medieval-renaissance bagpipe, an interesting and quite
well depicted illustration that does not require special
interpretation.
The instrument has a conical chanter and two drones. I need hardly
describe the so-different Uillean instrument, which the illustration
does not depict – at all!
The bag is inflated with a blow-pipe, but bellows is an integral
feature of the bagpipes called ‘Uilleann’. Indeed, the word
‘Uilleann’ is often translated as meaning ‘elbow’ in Gaelic, an
obvious reference to the method of operating bellows, though it
might also be a corruption of the name of its ancestral
English-Scottish ‘Union’ Bagpipes. Probably, both interpretations
are true. In the bagpipe context, ‘Uilleann’ seems to have a
confection conjured from no tradition whatsoever (though sometimes
erroneously considered to be traditional) by the early
twentieth-century patriot and maker-up of bagpipe history William
Grattan Flood.3
There are loads of bagpiping pigs. Indeed, there is another in this
issue of Chanter (page 9) and I have sixteen in my picture
collection, some resembling the Irish boar, who is often playing for
dancing piglets, and some decidedly different.
Do readers detect a striking similarity – apart from the Dutch drone
deficit and prominent mentula – between the Irish pig and the
Amsterdam pig, dated 1375-1450? I am not suggesting that the
similarity has any particular significance.
At first, it seemed that, other than the location of the picture (in
a document held at the Royal Irish Academy Library), it was going to
be difficult find out more about the “16th century Irish
manuscript”, so 16th century would have to do. It’s not unlikely,
but more precise dating is desirable. My Googling led only to a
tweet from the Royal Irish Academy Library about the
stamp5 and an Irish philately site6 one page
of which seems to have been the source of the stamp’s accompanying
text quoted in Chanter.
So, I took a chance, looked for and found a facsimile of Bunting’s
1840 book7, which I had rashly pre-determined would
probably be a Victorian red herring. But Bunting tells a lot more
than I expected and his arguments – unlike a lot of stuff I have
read by well-meaning but highly imaginative 19th century
musicologists – seem quite plausible (pp. 58-59):
“That the bagpipe was also our proper military instrument in the
fifteenth century appears from an account of those Irish who
accompanied the army of King Edward to Calais,8 under the
leading of the Prior of Kilmainham;9and we now proceed to
give a specimen of the same instrument as known to the Irish about
A.D. 1300. This ludicrous but curious illustration is from a
manuscript of the Dinnseanchus,10 a collection of Irish
history and topography, executed, according to Doctor O’Connor, about
the above year.11 It forms part of an initial letter at the
commencement of one of the chapters, and represents a pig gravely
occupied in performing on the pipes, much in the same mode as the
foregoing example.
“He presses the bag against his belly with the foreleg,
And from his lungs into the bag is blown
Supply of needful air to feed the growling drone,
which appears double, and ornamented with encircling straps, probably
of brass. Four holes are represented open on the chanter, but whether
the whole number intended be five or six, it is difficult to say.
Certainly the instrument is not so complete as that of the Elizabethan
period, but it is unquestionable that it had been known from time
immemorial among the Irish, for in all the remaining poems of the
Teach-Midchuarta12, varying in date from the tenth to the
sixth century, constant mention is made of the
cushlannaig13or bag-pipes.14The antiquity,
therefore, of our old airs of the defective class can as little be
impeached, on the ground of not having the bagpipe in early times, as
can that of the more florid class on a similar objection to the
antiquity of the harp.”
I strongly object to the judgement inherent in Bunting’s: “… our old
airs of the defective class”, which is, I interpret, unpleasantly
denigratory of bagpipe tunes. [e.g. “Golf is a game invented by the
same people who think music comes out of a bagpipe.” – Lee
Trevino.]
Why does the stamp’s text state, apparently without any trace of
doubt, that the illustration is 16th century when the only
well-argued source of information, Bunting, which the author cites,
clearly considers it to be from around 1300? Did the author check
Bunting or just copy the reference uncritically from another source?
Bunting concludes that: “Clearly the instrument is not so complete
as that of the Elizabethan period”, and he has already suggested
around 1300. So, was Bunting right about the date and is the author
of the text accompanying the stamp, quoted in Chanter, who seems
not to have bothered to check his information, completely wrong
giving 16th century for the bagpiping pig?
Does the text shown on the stamp (below, left) in fact look like
13-14th century Irish uncial script? If it does, we could more
confidently date the bagpipe to a couple of centuries earlier than
claimed, while agreeing with Bunting. As a guide, compare with the
mid-14th century Kildare Poems example15 (below, right):
Having turned what was intended to be a quick observational note into a
historical project, I’d better return to my reason to object to the
Ireland Postal Service’s conclusion that the stamp design depicts “… the
earliest known image of uilleann bagpipes”. (see 2. above) When I read
the description, I thought (paraphrasing our editor’s similar response):
“What the …?” How could anybody take an eye-catching historical image,
presumably chosen because of its relevance and they do know it’s
historical, then make no attempt to consider its historical context or
even its appearance.
Whoever gave the final okay for this design – please let it not be Na
Piobairí Uillean, who I hope are equally annoyed about this – seems
not even to have looked at an Irish Uilleann bagpipe, made a quick
comparison, and then applied some rudimentary critical thinking that
would reveal the obvious differences. Aw c’mon. If anything, even to the
untrained eye, the stamp pig’s instrument might more closely resemble
the Scottish instrument.
The error doesn’t even deserve the excuse of careless ‘jumping to
conclusions’, but I suppose we have to accept that that’s what people do
– especially when it comes to bagpipes. A lot of folk just can’t ‘see’
what they are looking at or hearing. They ask: “And what is that?” and
you reply (trying hard to make your necessarily blunt answer not seem
impatient or sarcastic), “A bagpipe”. Then they express an astonished or
even contradictory “No!”, and when they hear you play your medieval
bagpipe or zampogna or gaita they decide (and indeed they might
even tellyou, sometimes quite belligerently) that it is
Northumbrian. There was even one lady, who pointing at my friend’s
hurdy-gurdy declared it to be a sackbut and she would not be persuaded
otherwise.