CHAPTER II
MUSIC'S FIRST ERA, AND THE INFLUENCES WHICH WERE OPERATIVE
IN VARIOUS LANDS DURING ITS CONTINUANCE
There are two distinct eras in the course of the evolution of music. The first ended and the second began with the invention and adoption of notation. This mechanical device so revolutionized musical production and taste, that we may properly concede to it the honor of having made possible the formulation of our art, for it chronicled the accomplishments of each generation, thus furnishing its successors with suggestive models. These were virtually lacking in the first era, which accounts amply for the little advancement made during its continuance.
That early career of music is shrouded in utter darkness, unbroken by a single luminous episode, and the lights which we are enabled to throw back upon it are entirely deductive.
They are not sufficiently strong to bring details into relief, but they suffice to develop outlines which are ample for the purposes of my sketch. The fact that the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Chinese devoted much attention to what some are pleased to call the science, or technic, of music is to me no indication of the condition of music existing at that time. Their libraries contained numerous volumes devoted to music, but their treatises considered melody (harmony was not known) from a purely mathematical stand-point. This vital element of music, which should be as free as air, was fettered by pedantry.
I feel convinced that the evolution of music was seriously delayed by this too early association with science. China has perpetuated this system of vassalage, the result being that her present temple melodies, which also serve as folk-songs, are utterly devoid of plastic grace and spontaneity. The fallibility of long lines of oral transmission casts doubt upon the Chinaman's claim that he inherits at least a portion of these songs, in their original form, from a period four thousand years back; still, there is one feature of the situation which, in a measure, substantiates it,—viz., the instinct for imitation that distinguishes this race from all others.
Evolution involves removal from an elementary state, and we measure its advancement through placing the present outlines and qualities, of whatever may be concerned, over against those that characterized some known previous condition.
China has produced some great scholars, and her civilization, such as it is, endures like the everlasting hills, and seems subject to little more change than they, but her people are not emotional, imaginative, nor susceptible to influences from without. The great wonder is not that real art feeling has never manifested itself in China, nor that she has repulsed all attempts to introduce the fruits of European musical culture, but that the Chinaman, with his nature, should have ever evoked our muse. China has contributed nothing to the development of music, and we cannot draw one spark of light from her for our investigations. The Mongolian race treated their feeble first musical impulse as they still do the feet of high-caste female children,—viz., they wrapped it so tightly in pedantic cerements that it could not grow; and, being an impulse, and not flesh and bones, it failed to endure the repression.
Although these ancient scientific treatises afford no clues to the actual spirit and form of contemporaneous musical utterances, they do bespeak the presence of interest and respect. As I have shown, this condition was of no service in China, but as the Egyptian and Greek people and culture were of a quite different substance and mould, we may safely infer that their efforts were important features in this preparatory era.
The light which we are enabled to throw backward over the line of musical evolution is drawn from the following sources: 1, the nature of music itself, and the first purposeful use of its germs; 2, its present condition among barbarous peoples; 3, profane history of ancient Egypt; 4, its development in pace with that of the Aryan race; and, 5, Biblical references (to which I shall devote a separate chapter).
NATURE OF MUSIC
It is a gross misconception to regard music as merely a "concord of sweet sounds," for that would be a barren art which had no contrasting features. Much great music is not beautiful, for it may be tragical, sombre, or may voice any of the moods incident to life. Euphony was doubtless one of the last developed qualities, for it springs from joy, love, or reverence. We must look among the coarser emotions for the germ which was first used in tone expression.
In that prehistoric time, at the beginning of what might be called soul tenantry, man, whether created or evolved, being the first of his line, had no fruits of human experience to guide him, and his emotional status could therefore have differed little from that of the higher grades of soulless creatures. We learn from history that since it began its annals animal nature has remained virtually unchanged, whereas man, because possessed of a higher grade of intellect and a definite recognition of Deity, in one form or another, has refined and broadened the scope of his impulses and understanding. As it is the first subjective, and not objective, manifestation of tone expression that we are seeking, we cannot do better than to scan this feature of animal life.
Such manifestations result from the sequential co-operation of emotion, reason, and impulse. Animals have their growls, roars, and trumpetings of anger and defiance, and many of them have forms of expressing affection, but these latter are acquired through experience, whereas they instinctively appeal to agencies outside themselves for relief from pain or want, employing means the efficacy of which they recognize. If we turn to humankind, we find that the new-born babe will express its desire for food long before it becomes responsive to its mother's endearments.
I, therefore, assume that pleading was the first purposeful, premeditated form of tonal communication, and, consequently, that it was the nucleus about which experience and culture have gathered such ample resources. (This term, tonal communication, applies equally well to our formulated art, for music is invariably addressed by its creator to some intelligence, whether it be a person, the world, or God.)
This first developed element has never relinquished its prominence, for it is the mood which most often pervades the composer's tone pictures. We find it depicted, as prompted by each and all phases of human insufficiency, appealing to appropriate sources for relief,—the oppressed entreating the tyrant, the lover the object of his affection, and the finite world, prostrate before Infinity, pouring its hopes and aspirations into the Divine ear.
Now occurs a period of unmeasurable time upon which we can throw no light. It extends from this first manifestation up to that stage in evolution which produced forms of tonal expression like those now employed by the lowest savage races. Some time during this unexplorable period, man having appropriated a fuller vocabulary from nature's store, and having adopted more sustained, and at the same time articulate, forms, was led to feel pulsations,—incipient rhythm. Whether this primitive conception of metre was suggested by associated word successions, or was incident to the extension of tonal expression itself, we can only conjecture, but rhythmic impulse is evident in, and it is the main feature of, the crudest musical efforts.
MUSIC OF THE SAVAGE RACES
Science has long busied itself with race origin. It has approached the problem from every side, and has accomplished so much towards its solution as to afford grounds upon which to base the assumptions that the diverse types of mankind, as they now exist, are each physically, morally, and mentally the outcome of conditions of which climate, soil, and degrees of isolation have been the most potent factors; and that these branches which have spread out to cover the world spring from one common family trunk. Even within the limits of historic time migrations have been caused either by climatic changes or by the dissensions incident to over-population.
When the savages of the South Sea Islands became detached, and whether of their own volition or through a dispensation of Providence, which caused the Pacific Ocean to isolate them from less pestiferous humanity, will never be known. It must, however, have taken place after the idea of at least limited tone expression had taken a firm hold on mankind and had become a transmittible instinct, for these savages evince little more disposition or capacity for originating than the more intelligent species of animals. I cite these people and their lyric status to mark the lowest ebb in things human and musical of which we have any knowledge.
Their music and habits are alike crossed by the line which separates the human from the animal, and it is needless to say which quality contributes the larger portion. Their songs are, like their language, ejaculatory, showing little exercise of reason in their forms, and voicing the baser emotions solely. Rude rhythms are the only features that attest their origin in musical impulse. Music in its course of evolution had necessarily to pass through this primitive stage. In more congenial environments it passed on and out, but these barbarians, being neither emotionally nor intellectually capable of imparting the impetus requisite to the development of finer and broader significance, have for thousands of years used their present crude forms. Their stage comes in touch with music's line of evolution at a period countless years before David sang.
From a letter in response to my inquiries as to the musical status of these barbarians, written by Count Pfeil, who has most closely observed their customs during twenty years spent in exploring the dark continent and these darker islands, I infer that their barbarism has grades analogous to those that exist in the culture of civilized nations.
In speaking of the two musical instruments in use Graf Pfeil says, "They are the 'Tutupele' on New Britain and Duke of York, and a sort of pan pipe or flute on the Solomon Islands. The former may hardly be called an instrument. It is used in connection with the superstitious ceremonies of the Dult-Dult practice, and is supposed to herald the appearance of the spirits. Two pieces of wood are carved down till they sound two neighboring notes, such as c-d, g-a, or f-g. They are then placed over a little hollow dug in the ground, and are beaten with small club sticks....
"The other instrument is used by the Solomon Islanders. They assemble three or four men, each armed with his flute, of which the largest pipe is about three feet in length, with a two-inch internal diameter. There are five of these pipes in each instrument. They are made of bamboo, and played by being raised to the lips and strongly blown into. The sound, especially when heard from a long distance, which robs it of its harshness, is not at all unpleasant, but has rather a melodious, though sad, character. The few men who play these instruments begin turning round and round, and others, wishing to join in the dance, gather round them, also moving in a circle. When a hundred dancers perform, those on the outside run at a headlong speed, while those forming the centre spin, but very slowly. The dancers accompany the players by very curious half-whistling sounds, which sound like the twitter of birds. The louder and shriller the sounds the prettier they are thought to be....
"On the Duke of York, boys have a curious, cruel way of procuring music. They take a large beetle and break off one of its legs. In the remaining stump they push a lot of elastic gum, of which they hold the other end. The beetle is now made to fly, but not being able to get away from the boy's hand, keeps circling round and round it, emitting a loud whirring or humming sound....
"All these races sing. Their songs are very monotonous, but are defined, like our own. You can ask them to sing such or such a song, and they will always sing it exactly as they sang it before. All songs are sung in a subdued voice, as the melancholy and suspicious character of the people prevents all loud demonstrations of mirth.... I have never heard their songs accompanied by any instrument, excepting at a dance, when, to my sorrow, combined vocal and instrumental efforts served as an accompaniment to the dance."
The North American Indians, despite the demoralizing influences of traders, agencies, and fire-water, are noble men as compared with the cannibals just considered. Many of their less amiable traits are doubtless the fruits of white intruders' avarice, which has from the first set aside equity when dealing with the red man. They live having a future state in view in the happy hunting-grounds, which stimulates in them a strict, but not too comprehensive, moral consciousness. Those conditions of life which mould race characteristics have in the case of the North American Indian developed bodily activity, close observation, bravery, and reasoning faculties, though crude. They lack delicate sensibility and imagination, but still in them we find nomadic manhood at its best, and their music mirrors their character.
Their war, funeral, and joyous songs are alike monotonous to modern Aryan ears, for they are devoid of romance and fine feeling, and are composed of repetitions ad libitum, instead of progressive developments. Their climaxes are produced through increased unction in delivery rather than through sequential means. They mark the primary pulsations of their songs through swaying the body, dancing, and through the use of rude instruments, and in so doing work themselves up to a remarkable state of exaltation. This result of their musical exercises must not be construed as indicating the presence of a strong, emotional element in the Indian character. They are, on the contrary, so stolid that few things can ruffle their equanimity. Their ecstasies are purposeful and self-induced.
Their phenomenal capacity for reading and interpreting nature's chronicle of the movements of living things, and its continual exercise, have blinded them, in a great degree, to the beauties of landscape. They devote themselves to the analysis of details instead of to the contemplation of the Creator's harmonious ensemble, and they consequently develop little sense for the beautiful. The fundamental manifestation of this sense is, in normally endowed man, an appreciation of the forms and colors of material things. Upon this sense we may build responsiveness to the intangible and ideal, but without it we have no foundation for æsthetic taste. I can think of nothing more incongruous than an atmosphere of Bach fugues or Beethoven symphonies for a man who sees only tons of hay, feet of lumber, water-power, etc., while gazing upon nature's grand panorama. The music of the North American Indian is neither euphonious nor romantic, but it is distinctly more human than that of the South Sea Islanders, and its varying tribal phases permit the inference that it has, in their keeping, accumulated resources, however slight they may seem.
The Indian's character and music throw light upon the course of evolution during the first era, inasmuch as they, contrasted with those of the cannibal races, tend to substantiate my claim that sound expression takes its cue from attendant culture, advancing in pace with it.
PROFANE HISTORY OF ANCIENT EGYPT
At that remotest period upon which the historian can throw light (about 3000 B.C.) the Valley of the Nile was the scene of undertakings the fruits of which have ever since excited the wonder of the world. The Pyramids, the somewhat later-built Palace of Karnak, and Temples of Luxor and Ipsambul stand first among the phenomenal conceptions of human architects; and the mechanical skill required in handling the massive blocks and pillars of which they are composed would severely test the appliances of our practical and inventive age. These monumental buildings, their consistent environments, and the deciphered records of scientific and literary accomplishments in those earliest historic times, bespeak broad culture. As we possess no record of a race from whom the Egyptians could have drawn either stimulus or knowledge itself, their culture was presumably indigenous, and therefore of slow growth. The Palace of Karnak, for instance, marks the climax of accomplishment in a line of architectural endeavor which may have begun soon after the Nile commenced making her alluvial deposits.
The persistent and audacious ambition which this long course of development attests, and the art feeling expressed in their works, endows Egyptian interest in music, as evinced through the scientific treatises mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, with especial significance. They were more learned and less pedantic than the Chinese, and were, besides, emotional and imaginative, although sadly superstitious. Had that high enlightenment permeated all classes of the people, Egypt would have been an Elysium for our art, but it was, unfortunately, confined to the upper social grades, which embraced the priests, and to a certain extent the warriors.
The masses, in company with prisoners of war and slaves from Central Africa, were mere servitors to the monarchs and priests in executing their ambitious schemes. Although their labor built up indubitable testimony to the greatness of their masters, the burdens imposed upon them century after century finally wore away their fealty; therefore the decadence and downfall of great Egypt. There could not possibly have been anything like art enthusiasm among a people so oppressed. Despite this vital lack, ancient Egypt did more, directly and indirectly, to foster music, and to give it an onward impulse, than all other agencies of the first era combined. This was somewhat attributable to the fact that then, for the first time, tone expression was associated with rhythmic texts; still, I infer that their music was merely an accessory to euphonious declamation,—subservient to poetry,—for had their melodies possessed independent import, those resourceful people would have found some way of recording them. These relations between music and poetry were perpetuated in Greece; indeed, our art was not accorded equality as a contributive element in song until in quite modern times. There have been several distinct epochs in this relationship,—viz., that in which tone expression, because of its little understood capacities was held in vassalage to her sister art; music's equality (dating from the adoption of notation), during which she greatly extended and beautified her forms; her ascendency, which characterized the vocal works of the early part of the present century; and now the Wagner school, in which the two are again made to collaborate on equal terms.
The ancient Egyptians employed pan pipes, flutes, horns, instruments of percussion, and small harps. Mural pictures of the fourth dynasty represent players blowing upon pipes of different lengths, and consequently of different pitches, which is a dumb declaration that at least some principles regulating the simultaneous use of tones had been recognized. Outside this pictorial record, we can find no intimation that anything analogous to modern harmony was known and practised by this people. In the absence of specific data we are forced to predicate the condition of music in that stupendous, though exclusive, civilization, upon the elements of the atmosphere from which it drew its impulse. As the more prominent of these elements were profound religious feeling, scientific learning, insatiable ambition, and a clearly pronounced lyric tendency, their melodies must have been coherent and expressive.
ARYAN RACE
As the instincts and capacities of the Aryan race have always been unique, it may prove instructive to glance at those features of its prehistoric existence in Asia which have been brought to light through comparative philology and mythology. In the first place, these sciences establish the fact that we of the West (Greeks, Italians, Germans, English) and the Hindoos of the East are of common origin. Our ancestors listened to the same legends, ballads, and mythical tales while gathered as children about one and the same mother, and they have handed them down to this generation of the descendants of each so little changed as to furnish ample proof of family relationship. Many of the more important words of the various Aryan languages are suggestively similar, and this in spite of the five thousand years of transmission, and of the diverse conditions incident to the growth of widely separated clans into great nations.
The Aryans were worshippers of Nature in her more spectacular and heroic forms and moods,—in storms, fire, sunset, and dawn, but looked upward for their Supreme Deity. The sky, with its fathomless depths of blue and its star mysteries, was their Zeus. From this it will be seen that they were, in a way, idolaters, but their idolatry was not degrading; it was, indeed, ennobling. They contemplated Nature, and in her processes saw the hand of an all-pervading, beneficent power,—a God. They worshipped the God thus, and in no other way, revealed to them through His works.
Their conceptions of family and community organization have served, and still serve, as models to civilized nations. They were paternal, the clans being large families with patriarchal heads, and elected councillors. They were pastoral, cultivating the soil and herding cattle, sheep, horses, and pigs; but they were at the same time good warriors. They wore leathern shoes, garments woven from wool, and they had at least a rudimentary knowledge of the sciences.
From all this I infer that the early Aryans were a race of freemen, not subject to the class discrimination that ruined Egypt.
Their appreciation of nature, and their reverence, ambition, and pertinacity fitted them to become the especial guardians of the arts, and their comparative class equality enabled them to fulfil the requirements of my theory that music can only flourish in a widely diffused interest and knowledge. It must breathe a genial and suggestive atmosphere.
Our main business is with Aryan music after it came under the influence of Egyptian culture, but it may interest my readers to flash, for a moment, the light of analogy back upon its earlier period. We have found the early Aryans less learned than the Egyptian scholar class, but also less superstitious and less pedantic. They were normal human beings in their occupations, susceptibilities, and social life. With such a picture in view it is quite natural for our imaginations to hear its complement in expressive sounds,—peaceful lullabies, songs of praise and love, and sonorous rejoicings.
In remote times the region which is supposed to have been the original home of the Aryans must have been fertile, for early poets were enthusiastic in describing its charms. The climatic changes that made the soil arid as it is to-day may have suggested, or may even have necessitated, migration; still, what condition or combination of conditions induced the Aryans to abandon Central Asia can never be positively known; but it is certain that they, like irresistible tidal waves, rolled westward and southward, destroying, carrying before them, or absorbing and dominating all peoples and institutions in their course.
One of the streams of Aryan migration flowed towards the south and formed the Hindoo and Persian nations, and another came into Europe by way of the Hellespont and took up its abode in Greece and Italy. Three others, the Celtic, Teutonic, and Slavonic, followed in the order named, passing to the north of the Black Sea, and occupied respectively Western, Central, and Eastern Europe.
Of all the nations who have developed from these original nuclei, the Hindoos show least evidence of close intercourse with the world's great teacher, whereas the Greeks, perhaps because of their proximity to Egypt, were led to avail themselves of her tuition to the fullest extent.
The ancient Hindoos were less scientific than the Chinese or Egyptians, and isolation has prevented them from advancing with modern civilization. Their music is less the fruit of theories than it is of natural Aryan impulse. They do not look upon it as a science, but as a matter of the emotions, the result of, and intended to quicken, the imagination. I have seen Hindoo melodies which exhibited a correct appreciation of rhythmic adjustment, still their accomplishments do not entitle them to a place among the potent factors in musical evolution.
Now we come to the climax of our first era. Such a true conception of beauty, such perfect symmetry, and such far-reaching imagination and lofty aspiration as are present in, and have made ancient Greek art and literature luminous for all time, bespeak conditions that would have carried music to fruition during their continuance had she not been so intangible, and therefore necessarily slow in developing. Had her nature been less coy, we might have ancient Greek music as monumental as the Iliad or the Parthenon.
The Greeks were quick to recognize the virtues of Egyptian learning, and Greece soon became great Egypt's greater pupil. Still, we should accord Egypt first place among the factors that built up modern civilization and led to the formulation of musical art, for she originated the vital impulse.
That period of Greek culture supremacy dispensed no laurels to its mothers, wives, and daughters. Woman was regarded as an inferior being, and she took no honorable part in intellectual social life. Boys were exhaustively educated, while girls were neglected. This was the one blot on the glory of those times, and we, besides deprecating the injustice it involved, must regret that these ancient art-workers denied themselves that highest earthly source of inspiration, intercourse with the delicate enthusiasm, the keen perceptions, and art instinct of educated and loved womanhood; for to what heights might their achievements have attained but for this misconception of woman's nature and capacities!
One would think that Sappho's lyrics, which induced Plato to call her the "Tenth Muse," would have suggested the existence, in woman's purer and more sensitive nature, of a subtle vein of beautiful intellectuality, but such was not the case. Judging from what we have seen of early Aryan family life, this unpractical and debasing idea of suppressing woman must have been imbibed with Egyptian learning.
Music was taught in the Greek schools, and youths were thus fitted to join in the sacred choruses, and to appreciate the significance of poetry. The immortal bards sang their creations, and they often remained unwritten for generations. The drama developed from songs and dances. Music was a prominent feature of their symposiums, the lyre being passed from guest to guest, each contributing of his best to the intellectual feast. Banquets were brought to a close by singing hymns. Music pervaded each function of Hellenic life.
Their choruses were unisons, and their instrumental accompaniments were either purely rhythmic (regardless of pitch) or they followed the voice, for the Greeks had no discoverable conception of harmony. In contemplating the marvellous erudition and the poetic sense of ancient Greece, and the important rôle played by music in the period of her glory, I can but feel that the failure to chronicle her melodies is a misfortune. They may not have been rich in variety of tone succession or in rhythm, but they doubtless were vigorous, expressive, and logically rounded, and they therefore mark the brightest point reached in the first era.
Greece succeeded Egypt as the world's teacher, and her precepts gain significance as advancing culture enables us to better comprehend the fine adjustment of imagination to nature which they embody. Her sculpture, architecture, and literature are the highest models that we have, and those of our architects who appreciate the import of monumental buildings look to ancient Greece for appropriate inspiration.
Is it not reasonable and logical to assume that the spirit of Greece's unwritten musical forms has been preserved, passed from nation to nation, and from generation to generation, and that it underlies our present classical school? I say spirit in speaking of musical transmission, for music's resources and outward forms were, in the Homeric period, and still are, in course of development.
It would be a waste of space to discuss the musical doings of other European nations during this period. Those that did least to prepare the way have been most active since our art took shape. As great as Italy's services have been since the sixteenth century (A.D.), she did little for music previous to that time. St. Ambrose, of Milan (384 A.D.), and St. Gregory, of Rome (590 A.D.), ordained rituals, prayers, music, etc., but there is no detailed record of their achievements, therefore no authentic Gregorian chants.