Oh, I am drowning, help me!
Oh, now the waters reach my great ankles.
Oh, I am drowning, help me!
Oh, now the waters reach my great knees.
and so on through all the parts of the body, up to the eyes.
[130] W. Thalbitzer, The Ammassalik Eskimo, Meddelelser om Grønland,
Vol. XL, p. 211. Compare before p. 309, for a similar formula from
Cumberland Sound.
Quite remarkable is the analogy between this song and the following
Australian war song:
Spear his forehead
Spear his chest
Spear his liver
Spear his heart, etc.
Rhythmic variations of a similar type develop also in oratory when a
number of persons are addressed in the same formal way: As an example
may serve the following address in a Kwakiutl speech:
Now you will witness, Northerners,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
Now you will witness, Great Kwakiutl,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
Now you will witness, Rich Side,[131] the dance of Many-on-Fire,
the Daughter of Giver-of-Presents,
[131] These are names of tribes, Columbia Contributions to
Anthropology, III, p. 140.
or:
“I have come Northerners; I have come Great Kwakiutl,
I have come Rich Side.”[132]
[132] Ibid., p. 142.
The repetitions discussed so far are rhythmic in form, varied in
contents. They may be compared to an orderly succession of decorative
motives that agree in the plan of the unit, but vary in details. In
poetry rhythmic repetitions of identical formal units are frequent.
These occur in all songs without words, consisting of vocables only.
An example of this is a Kwakiutl canoe song in which every syllable is
sung with one stroke of the paddles:
Aw, ha ya ha ya hä
ha ya he ya ä
he ya ha ya ä
A, ha ya ha ya hä
aw, ha ya he ya hä
he ya ha ya hei
ya hä
hä hä wo wo wo.
They are also found in introductions to many songs in which the tune is
carried by vocables as an introduction to the words of the song:[133]
Mai hamama.
Haimama hamamai hamamamai.
Hamama hamamayamai
Haimama hamamai hamamamai.
[133] The Social Organization and the Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl
Indians; Rep. U. S. National Mus. for 1895, Washington, 1897, p. 703.
Rhythm is not confined to the larger units, but is applied as an
artistic device in the detailed structure. In exhortative speech some
tribes develop a rhythmic form by adding a strongly accented syllable
to each word. The Kwakiutl use the strongly accented ending ai for this
purpose and I may imitate the impression of their speech by saying,
Welcome-ai! brothers-ai! at my feast-ai! Here the time for each word
group ending in _ai_ is approximately equal, or the words leading up to
the ending _ai_ are at least pronounced with great rapidity when they
contain a longer phrase.
In the recital of myths rhythmic structure is sometimes attained by
the addition of meaningless syllables that transform the recital into
a chant. Thus the Fox Indians will add in the recital of the Culture
Hero legend, the syllables nootchee, nootchee. A. L. Kroeber and Leslie
Spier tell us that the myths of Southern California are chanted. Edward
Sapir has observed the Song recitative in Paiute mythology, each animal
speaking according to a definite rhythm and tune to which the text is
adjusted.[134] I have recorded an Eskimo tale from Cumberland Sound in
which the travels of the hero are recorded in a chant with interspersed
melodic phrases.[135] In wails the repetition of the formal cry of
moaning at short intervals and the rapid, even pronunciation of the
recital creates rhythmic structure.
[134] Song Recitative in Paiute Mythology, Journal American Folk-lore,
Vol. 23, pp. 455 et seq.
[135] F. Boas, Bull. A. M. N. H. Vol. 15, pp. 335, 340, tune in Sixth
Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, p. 655, no. 13.
Much stricter than in prose is the rhythmic structure of song. It is
often assumed that regularity of musical rhythm, which is found in most
primitive music, is due to the multiplicity of motor actions connected
with the music, particularly to the close relation between music and
dance. It is true that primitive song is often accompanied by movements
of the body,—a swinging of the whole trunk, movements of head, feet,
and arms; hand clapping and stamping; but it is an error to assume that
for these the same synchronism prevails to which we are accustomed.
With us the stamping and clapping of hands coincides with the accent
of the song. Some tribes innervate so that the innervation for the
articulation and for the movement of hands or feet coincide. This habit
has the effect of letting the clapping, drumming, or stamping follow
the accent of the song. It is also not a rare occurrence that the
rhythmic pattern of body movements and of song are not homologous, but
that they are interrelated in different ways or sometimes even seem to
be quite independent. Negro music as well as that of Northwest America
offers many examples of this kind.
Although the problem involved in the structure of primitive poetry is
better understood now than it was a few years ago, and although many
energetic efforts are being made to obtain adequate collections, the
material for the study of this subject is still quite insufficient.
Travellers are rarely trained in the art of recording songs and are apt
to give us only the simplest forms that offer the least difficulties,
or to summarize their observations in descriptions that are altogether
too often misleading. Exact observations show that rhythmic complexity
is quite common. Regular rhythms consist of from two to seven parts,
and much longer groupings occur without recognizable regularity of
rhythmic structure. Their repetition in a series of verses proves that
they are fixed units.
On account of the physiologically determined emotional quality of
rhythm it enters into all kinds of activities that are in any way
related to emotional life. Its exciting effect manifests itself in
religious songs and dances. Its compelling control may be observed in
war songs; its soothing effect appears in melodies; its esthetic value
is seen in song and decorative art. The origin of rhythm must not be
looked for in religious and social activities but the effect of rhythm
is akin to the emotional states connected with them and, therefore,
arouses them and is aroused by them.
I believe the great variety of forms in which rhythmic repetition of
the same or similar elements is used, in prose and in poetry as a
rhythm of time, in decorative art as a rhythm of space,—shows that
Bücher’s theory according to which all rhythm is derived from the
movements accompanying work cannot be maintained, certainly not in its
totality. Wundt derives the rhythm of the songs used in ceremonies from
the dance, that of the working song from the movements required in the
performance of work,—a theory practically identical with that proposed
by Bücher, since the movements of the dance are quite homologous
to those of work. There is no doubt that the feeling for rhythm is
strengthened by dance and the movements required in the execution of
work, not only in the common work of groups, of individuals who must
try to keep time, but also in industrial work, such as basketry or
pottery that require in their execution regularly repeated movements.
The repetitions in prose narrative as well as the rhythms of decorative
art, so far as they are not required by the technique, are proof of
the inadequacy of the purely technical explanation. The pleasure given
by regular repetition in embroidery, painting, and the stringing of
beads cannot be explained as due to technically determined, regular
movements, and there is no indication that would suggest that this kind
of rhythm developed later than the one determined by motor habits.
It is a precarious undertaking to discuss the characteristics of
primitive poetic forms, partly because so little reliable material
is available, but partly also on account of the impossibility of
obtaining a fair insight into the meaning and value of literary
expression without an intimate knowledge of the language and culture
in which they have come into being. For this reason I shall base
the following remarks principally upon observations of the Kwakiutl
tribe, a tribe with whose language and culture I am familiar. It would
be unjustifiable to generalize and to claim that the traits that I
am going to discuss are characteristic of all primitive literature.
On the contrary, as our knowledge of primitive literature expands,
individuality of style will certainly be found to prevail. Still it
seems likely that features which are analogous to our own literary
devices may disclose general tendencies.
Emphasis of salient points is used extensively in Kwakiutl prose and
song. Stress is most frequently given by repetition. I give a few
examples culled from speeches: “Indeed, indeed, true are the words of
the song, of my song, sung for you, tribe.”[136]
[136] Contributions to the Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, Columbia
University Contributions to Anthropology, Vol. 3, p. 194, line 25.
“He is a kind chief who is kind, speaking kindly to those who have him
for a chief.”[137]
[137] Ibid., p. 258, line 24.
“Now is finished the song of my chief. Finished is the great one.”[138]
[138] Ibid., p. 268, line 25.
“Now you will give the name Great-Inviter to Inviter who has come out
of her room, her who has been made a princess, her who is all over a
princess on account of this that has been done by this chief who has
her for a princess.”[139]
[139] Ibid., p. 308, line 3.
In songs repetitions are much more frequent than in speech. I give a
few examples:
“Wa, out of the way! Waw haw hawa, Wa, out of the way! Ah, do not in
vain ask for mercy, Waw haw hawa! Ah, do not in vain ask for mercy and
raise your hands.”[140]
[140] Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, Thirty-fifth Annual Report Bur. Am.
Ethn., p. 1288.
Another example is the following:
“I am the only great tree in the world, I the chief: I am the only
great tree in the world, I the chief.
I am the great chief who vanquishes, Ha, ha, I am the great chief who
vanquishes, Ha, ha!”[141]
[141] Ibid., p. 1290.
Emphasis may be obtained by placing the word to be emphasized at the
end of one phrase and by beginning the next phrase with the same word.
There are also many emphatic particles. The closing _ai_ referred to
before, used in exhortative oratory, belongs to this group. Verbal
affixes meaning “really”, “indeed”, and the like are used informal
speech to give proper strength to the whole expression. In a wail a
woman chants: “Haha, hanane, now really I do this, I remember my real
past forefathers and really my great grandfathers and now really I will
go on with my family-myth here, telling of this, of my beginning in the
beginning of the world, of the chief who come up in this world, haha,
hanane; and really this was my ancestor who really was going about
spouting.”[142]
[142] Ibid., p. 836.
In Africa the telling of a story is enlivened by affirmative
exclamations of the audience. When the narrator says, “The turtle
killed the leopard,” the audience will repeat, clapping their hands,
“The leopard, the leopard.”
Emphasis is also given by an accumulation of synonyms. Alternate terms
are often used in this manner and in the original they often have an
added rhythmical value on account of the homology of their form. Thus
the Kwakiutl sings in a laudatory chant: “I greatly fear our chief, oh
tribes! I tremble on account of this great means of trying to cause
fear, of this great means of trying to cause terror, of this greatest
cause of terror.”[143]
[143] Ibid., p. 1287.
“I shall break, I shall let disappear the great Copper, the property of
the great foolish one, the great extravagant one, the great surpassing
one, the one farthest ahead, the greatest Spirit-of-the-Woods among the
chiefs.”[144]
[144] By “copper” is meant one of the valuable plates of
copper that are considered the “highest” kind of property. The
“Spirit-of-the-Woods” is the symbol of wealth and power, Ibid., p. 1288.
The beginning or the end of a rhythmic unit is often marked by an
interjection like the “haha hanane” of the wail previously quoted, or
by the repetition of the same word. Both these forms occur often in
love songs:
Ye ya aye ya! You are hard hearted, you who say that you love me,
You are hard hearted, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! You are cruel, you who say that you are lovesick
for me, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! When are you going to talk my love? my dear![145]
[145] Ibid., p. 1301.
or in a shaman’s song:[146]
I have been told to continue to heal him by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to keep on putting the hemlock ring
over him by the Shaman-of-the-Sea,
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to put back into our friend his soul, by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to give him long life, by the Long-Life-
Giver-of-the-Sea, the Chief-of-High-Water,
the Good Supernatural Power.
[146] Ibid., p. 1296.
Symmetry in the rigid sense of the term does not exist in the arts
built on time sequences. A reversion of time sequence is not felt as
symmetry in the same way as a reversion of space sequence where every
point has its equivalent point. In time sequences we have a feeling for
symmetry only for the order of repetition and structural phrases. The
following Negro poem will illustrate this:
Ko ko re ko kom on do!
Girl gone, him no gone,
Ko ko re ko kom on do![147]
[147] Martha Warren Beckwith, Jamaica Anansi Stories, Memoirs. Amer.
Folk-lore Soc., Vol. 17 (1924) p. 107.
It seems, however that in primitive recitative poetry and music this
form is not as frequent as in modern folk song or in modern poetry.
The effect of poetry and oratory depends in part on the use of
metaphor. It is hardly possible to discuss this in a generalized way,
because the appreciation of metaphor requires a most intimate knowledge
of the language in which it occurs. Apparent absence of metaphor is
undoubtedly more likely due to imperfect records than to an actual
absence of figures of speech. It is quite striking that it is difficult
to find metaphorical expressions in American Indian literature,
although it is undoubtedly a feature of their oratory. The whole naming
system of most American Indians proves their feeling for figurative
speech.
Here also I may be permitted to confine my remarks to the use of
metaphor among the Kwakiutl with whose speech forms I am fairly
familiar. Metaphorical expressions are used particularly when
describing the greatness of a chief or of a warrior. The chief is
compared to a mountain; a precipice (from which rolls down wealth
overwhelming the tribes); a rock which cannot be climbed; the post of
heaven (who supports the world); the only great tree (that raises its
crown over the lesser trees of the woods or that rises in lonely height
on an island); a loaded canoe at anchor; the one who makes the whole
world smoky (from the fire in the house in which he gives feasts); the
thick tree; the thick root (of the tribe). It is said that through his
great acts he burns up the tribes, a term which is primarily used for
the warrior. The people follow him as the young sawbill-ducks follow
the mother bird. He makes the people suffer with his short-life maker;
he shoves away the tribes. His rival whom he tries to vanquish is
called, he with ruffled feathers; the one whom he puts across his back
(like a wolf carrying a deer); the one with lolling tongue; the one who
loses his tail (like the salmon); the spider woman; old dog; mouldy
face; dry face; broken piece of copper.
Greatness of a chief is called the weight of his name; when he marries
a princess he lifts her weight from the floor; his wealth of blankets
is a mountain that rises through our heavens; in the feast surrounded
by his tribe, he stands on his fortress. Wealth that he acquires is a
salmon that he catches.
When following ancient customs the people walk the road laid out for
them by their ancestors.
The warrior or a person of ill temper is called “hellebore”. The
warrior is also called “the double-headed serpent of the world”.
Metaphorical terms are an important element in the speeches
accompanying public purchases, particularly the purchase of valuable
“coppers”. Many of these terms are accompanied by symbolic actions. The
first part of the payment in the purchase of a copper is called the
pillow or mattress on which the copper is to rest or the harpoon line
by which it is hauled in. The purchase itself is called “shoving” that
means pushing the value of the purchase under the name of the purchaser
who is thus raised in rank. At the end of the transaction the seller
gives to the purchaser a certain number of blankets (which are the
standard of value) as a “belt” to hold up the blankets (in which the
purchase price is reckoned); as boxes in which to store these blankets;
and finally he gives an amount as a dress for his dancer (that is his
female relative who dances for him on festive occasions).
When a person gives a great feast for his rival he extinguishes the
fire of his rival’s house; his feast steps up to the fire in the middle
of the house. If he surpasses his rival in liberality, his feast steps
across the fire and reaches the rear of the house where the chief is
seated.
Presents for a bride are a packline to carry her property; a mat on
which she is to sit; and a mast for her canoe.
I do not mention here the many euphemistic terms for sickness and
death, except a few that are used in speeches: the dead chief has gone
to take a rest; he has disappeared from this world; he stays away; or
he lies down.
Metaphorical figures in songs are not rare. Of the death of a renowned
man who was drowned, it is said in his mourning song:
“It deprived me of my mind, when the moon went down
at the edge of the waters”.[148]
[148] Ethnology of the Kwakintl, 35th Ann. Rep. Bur Am. Ethn. p. 1292.
And in another mourning song[149]:
Hana, hana, hana. It broke down, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. It fell down to the ground, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. Our great chief has taken a rest.
Hana, hana, hana. Now our past chief has fallen down.
[149] Boas, Kwakiutl Ethnology, Columbia University Contributions to
Anthropology. Vol. III, p. 77.
In a feast-song the chief is compared to the salmon[150]:
The great one will not move, the greatest one, the great
Spring Salmon.
Go on, great one, hurt the young children, the humble sparrows
who are being teased by you, great Spring Salmon.
[150] Ibid., p. 123.
In another feast-song the rivals are compared to insects[151]:
I am a chief, I am a chief, I am your chief, yours,
who you are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little flies that
are flying about.
I am too great to be desired as food by those little
horseflies that are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little mosquitoes
that are flying about.
[151] Ibid., p. 129.
In still another song he is compared to a tree[152]:
A great cedar dancer is our chief, our tribes.
It cannot be spanned, our great chief, our tribes.
My chief here from long ago, from the beginning of the
myth time, for you, tribes.
[152] Ibid., p. 197.
A number of sayings of the Tsimshian present also good cases of the
use of metaphor. “A deer though toothless, may accomplish something”;
“he is just sleeping on a deerskin” (i. e. not expecting approaching
hardships); “it seems you think that Nass River is always calm” (i.
e. that you will always be fortunate); “he is just enjoying the water
lilies for a short time” (as a bear feeding on water lilies and about
to be killed by the hunter who lies in ambush).[153]
[153] Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. 2 (1889), p. 285.
Examples of metaphor may be found here and there in songs and speeches.
The Osage sing:
Ho! Toward what shall they (the little ones) direct their footsteps,
it has been said in the house.
It is toward a little valley they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not a little valley that is spoken of,
It is toward the bend of a river they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not the bend of a river that is spoken of,
It is toward a little house that they shall direct their footsteps.
The valley and the bend of the river represent the path of life which
is pictured as crossing four valleys or as following the course of the
river having four bends.[154] This concept also finds expression in the
decorative art of the Indians of the Plains.[155]
[154] Francis La Flesche, The Osage Tribe, The Rite of Vigil, 39th Ann.
Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnology, Washington 1925, p. 258.
[155] A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bulletin Am. Uns. Nat. Hist. Vol. 18,
Plate 16, p. 100; Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians,
Ibid., p. 242, fig. 77.
Another metaphor is used in the following illustration:
Upon whom shall we slip off our moccasins? they said to one another,
it has been said in this house.
Toward the setting sun,
There is an adolescent youth,
Upon whom we shall always slip off our moccasins, they said to one
another, it has been said in this house.
Here the slipping off of moccasins means the crushing and killing of
the enemy, here personified in the adolescent youth.[156]
[156] Francis La Flesche, Ibid., p. 84.
In the speech containing the migration legend of the Creek, the
head-chief Chekilli said: “The Cussetaws cannot yet leave their
red hearts, which are, however, white on one side and red on the
other”.[157]
[157] Albert S. Gatschet, A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians,
Philadelphia, 1884; p. 251.
James Mooney records the following formula for success in hunting.
obtained from the Cherokee.[158]
Give me the wind. Give me the breeze. Yu! O Great Terrestrial Hunter,
I come to the edge of your spittle where you repose. Let your stomach
cover itself; let it be covered with leaves. Let it cover itself at a
single bend, and may you never be satisfied.
And you, O Ancient Red, may you hover above my breast while I sleep.
Now let good (dreams?) develop; let my expressions be propitious. Ha!
Now let my little trails be directed, as they lie down in various
directions (?). Let the leaves be covered with the clotted blood, and
may it never cease to be so. You two shall bury it in your stomachs.
Yu.
[158] James Mooney, The Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees, Seventh
Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, p. 369.
In this formula the gods of the hunt, fire and water are called upon.
The Great Terrestrial Hunter is the river, its spittle the foam; the
blood-stained leaves on which the game has been killed are to cover
the surface of the water. The hunter asks that all the game may be
assembled at one bend of the river which is supposed to long for
evermore. In the second part, the Ancient Red is the fire. It hovers
over the breast because the hunter rubs his chest with ashes. The
blood-stained leaves are thrown into the fire and into the water which
is expressed by having them buried in the stomach.
The contents of primitive narrative, poetry and song are as varied as
the cultural interests of the singers. It does not seem admissible
to measure their literary value by the standards of the emotions
that they release in us. We ought to inquire in how far they are an
adequate expression of the emotional life of the natives. To primitive
man, hunger is something entirely different from what it is to us
who ordinarily do not know what the pangs of hunger mean, who do not
realize all the implications of starvation. If a people like the
Bushmen or the Eskimo sing of their joy after a successful hunt and
after a hearty meal, if the Orang Semang of the Malay Peninsula sing
of the gathering of fruit and of the successful hunt, the connotation
of these songs is no different from that of a harvest song. We are too
easily mislead by the concreteness of the picture and assume that the
emotional connotation that we require in poetry must be absent. Even
among ourselves a graphic passage in a lyric poem does not by any means
always release a definite, mental image but appeals rather through the
feelings engendered by the descriptive terms. For this reason we must
necessarily assume that the emotional setting of the picture is the
essential poetic element for the singer, not the objective terms that
alone appeal to us because we are not familiar with the emotions of
every day native life. We feel only the graphic value of the words. The
much-quoted Semang[159] song represents a good example:
Our fruit grows plump at the end of the spray.
We climb along and cut it from the end of the spray.
Plump, too, is the bird (?) at the end of the spray.
And plump the young squirrel at the end of the spray.
[159] W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay
Peninsula, Vol. 1 (1906), p. 627.
This song which deals with plants and animals serving as food, should
be compared with another one that is more readily appreciated by us:
The stem bends as the leaves shoot up.
The leaf-stems sway to and fro.
To and fro they sway in diverse ways.
We rub them and they lose their stiffness.
On Mount Inas they are blown about.
On Mount Inas which is our home.
Blown about by the light breeze.
Blown about is the fog (?).
Blown about is the haze.
Blown about are the young shoots.
Blown about is the haze of the hills,
Blown about by the light breeze.
etc.
If we feel the latter as a more poetic type it is presumably only
because we cannot share the feelings aroused in the Orang Semang by the
reference to the efforts in gathering fruit and in hunting animals. The
effectiveness of poetry does not depend upon the power of expressive
description that releases clear mental images, but upon the energy with
which words arouse the emotions.
It is misleading to compare primitive poetry that has been recorded by
collectors with the literary poetry of our times. The coarse sexual
songs or drinking songs that do not form part of our polite literature,
are quite on a par with the songs that may be heard in primitive
society in the company of lusty young men or excited young women and
their prevalence in existing collections is, in all probability, merely
due to the inability of the collector to approach the natives in
moments of religious devotion, of tender love, or poetic exaltation. In
many cases it is quite obvious that some of the songs collected were
made to make fun of the collector. It is not admissible to build on
the meagre evidence that we possess, a system of development of lyrics
in which the coarse forms, the exuberant spirits of every day life are
mistaken for the expression of the highest poetic achievement. In all
those cases in which fuller collections are available, as in America
for instance from the Omaha, Eskimo, Kwakiutl, and from some of the
southwestern tribes, there is ample evidence of poetic feeling that
moves on higher planes.
Still, poetic susceptibility is not the same everywhere, neither in
form nor in intensity. The local culture determines what kind of
experiences have a poetic value and the intensity with which they act.
I select as an example the difference between the descriptive style
found in Polynesia and that of many Indian traditions. In the Fornander
collection of Hawaiian tales we read: “They admired the beauty of his
appearance. His skin was like to a ripe banana. His eyeballs were like
the young buds of a banana. His body was straight and without blemish
and he was without an equal.” In the story of Laieikawai it is said: “I
am not the mistress of this shore. I come from inland, from the top of
the mountain which is clothed in a white garment.” It would be a vain
task to search for similar passages in the literature of many Indian
tribes. The American Indians differ considerably among themselves in
regard to this trait. Tsimshian tales are rich when compared to the
barrenness of the descriptive tales of the Plateau tribes.
Poetic descriptions appear more frequently in songs. However even these
are not found everywhere. The songs of the Indians of the Southwest
suggest that the phenomena of nature have impressed the poet deeply,
although it must be remembered that most of his descriptive terms are
stereotyped ceremonial expressions.