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Highland
mercenaries in the service of King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden during the 30
years war.
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by Brian Wilton, Director, Scottish Tartans Authority. Copyright © 2012
Scots Connection Kiltmakers, Huntly.
“The garb is certainly very loose and fits men inured to it to go through
great marches, to bear out against the inclemency of the weather, to wade
through rivers, to shelter in huts, woods and rocks on occasions...”
From the language one can guess that we’re not talking about our
ambassadorial Tartan Army on its way to a European football fixture but of
earlier times - 1747 to be exact and the comments refer to that quintessential
forerunner of today’s kilt - the Féileadh mór . . . the philamhor . . .the great
kilt . .. the Scottish garment seen in drawings and portraits of chiefs and
clansmen, of statesmen and soldiers over a period of at least a couple of
centuries.
Made of up to 11 metres (12 yards) of single width cloth, cut in half and
then sewn down the long edge, the ubiquitous great plaid was worn with - and
then replaced - the traditional saffron robes of the 15th and 16th centuries -
the wealthier inhabitants of the Highlands being the first to convert to tartan.
Single width cloth (70cm / 27.5 inches) was the norm at that time and reflected
the limits of the hand-weaver’s reach when throwing the shuttle from side to
side.
Over the decades many thousands of tourists have applauded the demonstrations
of just how the Highlander donned his philamhor: first laying his broad leather
belt on the ground and then covering it with his plaid and carefully pleating
the lower end of it. Then lying face upwards on it so that the bottom edge
reached between the middle of his thighs and his knees. Then he would pull the
flat bits of the plaid around his waist forming a kind of skirt and fasten the
belt to hold it all in place. When he stood up, the bottom part of the plaid
would look almost like today's kilt and the spare material would hang from his
waist down to the ground. Then he would gather up the spare material, bunch it
around his waist and hang the surplus over his shoulder. To keep it in place he
would fix it to his shirt or jacket with a large silver bodkin ( a kind of pin)
or a round brooch often decorated with precious stones.
As a piece of heritage theatre this goes down very well but as a slice of
historical fact, it leaves more than a little to be desired! Finding such floor
space in a tiny croft (one end of which was often inhabited by animals) would be
nigh impossible, as would popping outside to lay on the ground amongst the mud,
chicken droppings and other domestic detritus. If circumstances dictated a hasty
exit (approaching redcoats or rent-seeking landlord) then any such dressing
routine would have been unthinkable.