CHAPTER XI

THE FOLK ELEMENT IN AMERICAN MUSIC

Nationalism in music--Sources of American folk-song;

classification of folk-songs--General characteristics of the

negro folk-song--The negro folk-song and its makers--Other

American folk-songs--The negro minstrel tunes; Stephen

Collins Foster, etc.--Patriotic and national songs.

We have been frequently obliged to indicate, in the course of our

'Narrative History of Music,' that certain known facts about musical

beginnings were not first facts--that there were premises upon which

these facts were based--beyond the ken of the historian. Thus we

discovered that some time in the early centuries of our era a type of

chant known as plain-song was systematized by musicians, but we were

unable to reveal the actual source of that music; later we came upon a

more or less artistic expression in the form of troubadour songs, and

again found their actual source shrouded in mystery--or tradition--and

so forth. We were consequently forced to the conclusion that, as

practice precedes theory, something else precedes artistic music, which

is its source and real beginning. That something is the elementary

expression of the race--or folk-song. Art music is rooted in folk-song

as surely as the tree is rooted in the soil.

Folk-song is the musical expression of the racial genius. Art music

is the _individual_ expression of the same genius, plus the personal

character of the artist. However distinctive or individual his

expression, no composer has been able to divorce himself from the

racial genius of which he is a part, any more than a poet of a nation

has been able to rise above the national idiom. 'A creative artist,'

says Mr. Henry F. Gilbert,[60] 'is like a noble tree. However tall the

tree may grow, pointing ever heavenward, it still has its roots in

the soil below and draws its sustenance therefrom. So with the great

creative artist: however elevated and universal his utterances become,

the roots of his being are so deeply embedded in the consciousness of

the race of which he is a part, that the influence and color of this

race spirit will be apparent in his greatest works.'

It follows, then, that a composition, if it is to be great, will be

recognizable not only as the work of a man, but also as the product of

a race. This may sound radical in the abstract, but the fact is easily

demonstrated by concrete examples. To quote from the same source: 'When

we survey with our mind's eye the bulk of German music and contrast

it with the bulk of French music or Italian music we immediately

perceive that there is a fundamental difference between them. Never

mind whether we can define it or not, there the difference is, and I

believe that most of us recognize it without any trouble. At bottom

this difference is because of the difference in race. Inasmuch as the

Italian composer in his music unconsciously expresses the peculiar

temper and character of the people among whom he has been born and of

whom he is a spiritual as well as a physical fragment, so the German

composer expresses, likewise unconsciously, the quite different temper

and character of the people from whom he sprang.... How can any one

fail to recognize these national, or, say, racial characteristics? But

there is a school of critics which maintains that the greatest music

strikes the universal note, and is free from the taint of nationalism.

If this were so we might expect to find the greatest music of Germany,

France, Italy, Russia, Finland, or any other country to be very similar

in its appeal and effect. We should find all this great music to be

lacking in special racial character and to be expressive only of those

characteristics which are common to all the different peoples. If this

were true it would, of course, be possible to conceive of any _great_

piece of music having been written by any person regardless of his

nationality. But can you do it? Can you, for instance, conceive of

Beethoven's symphonies being the normal expression of an Italian? Or

of 'Tristan' having been written by an Englishman? Can you imagine

the 'Pathétique' Symphony of Tschaikowsky having been written by

a Frenchman, or Verdi's 'Otello' composed by a Norwegian? No; the

trail of nationality is over them all.... I believe that the greatest

creative artists have ever been national in the deepest sense of the

word. They have been the mouthpieces of a people, and, while in their

works they unrolled new and hitherto unknown visions of beauty, their

masterpieces have always been an expression and extension of the race

consciousness rather than a contradiction and denial of it.'

If we accept this dictum, it will be quite rational, in treating the

music of any nation, to begin at the bottom--by defining the sources

and general character of its folk-song. We should have no difficulty

in doing this in the case of France, Germany, or, say, Spain, which

are more or less racially simple, but not so when we take a country

like Austria, for instance, which is the home of at least three

different racial stocks. Each of these has a well-developed music of

its own, which has a well-defined racial complexion quite distinct

from that of the others. Now America is precisely in this position,

but in a very much higher degree. We have not three, but thirty or

more different racial stocks, and of these perhaps six or seven are of

sufficient strength and sufficient permanence to have become definitely

associated with the American soil. Only in a limited sense, however,

are these race settlements 'localized,' as they are in Austria, and

therefore capable of retaining in any degree their characteristics and

traditions. America's position is, in fact, unique in that it fuses all

these apparently antagonistic elements, thus obliterating in a large

measure their own racial peculiarities and, by the addition of a new,

a neutralizing element, substituting a new product. That product is

still in the making, and the neutralizing element is so intangible as

to defy definite description. Indefinitely it is the spirit born of the

sense of liberty of action, opportunity and optimistic endeavor which

colors the character of every settler or immigrant, irrespective of his

extraction.

In contemplating the chaotic state of our 'national' music and in

realizing that its ultimate character is in its formative stage, we are

too apt to forget that it too has its folk-song antecedents, however

heterogeneous they may be. We are not here concerned with the ultimate

product, but with its ingredients. If these are partly English, Irish,

Scotch, German, French, and Spanish, they are nevertheless legitimate,

though these foreign ingredients may be dismissed with a mere mention

in so far as they have suffered no peculiar transformation upon

American soil; those that _have_ suffered transformation, like those

that are indigenous, must receive attention because they have become

legitimate material for our composers to draw upon in order to identify

their art with their country. In spite of the peculiar position

of America with regard to artistic individuality, then, we may be

justified in treating the story of American creative musical art in the

usual manner--beginning with folk-song.

I

Since we have drawn the distinction between adapted and indigenous

folk-song, the question naturally arises whether there exists in

America a truly indigenous folk-song at all. It has been agreed that

America, having been colonized by Europeans, possesses no native

culture whatever, except such as the Indians may have had. The Indian,

indeed, has the best claim to the name American, being indigenous,

or at least so early a colonizer as to have constituted virtually a

native race. But being the one element which has not been fused with

the many elements of which the American nation is now composed, he is

to-day in the anomalous position of an indigenous foreigner. For the

American of to-day is predominantly European--of overseas origin--and

the European conquerors have, in this case, not adopted the 'culture'

of the vanquished, because that culture was inferior to their own.

The North American Indian has shown unquestioned evidences of art

instincts--in his folk-lore, his handicrafts, and perhaps also in his

music. But, with respect to the last, his impulses are so circumscribed

by religious formulas and so little affected by a sense of proportion

that they hardly achieve even the mildest form of artistic expression

or design. Moreover, the idiom he employs is so foreign to us, so

exotic in its nature, that either an unconscious or an impulsive use

of it by American composers would be out of the question. What use

has been made of Indian material has been with the conscious purpose

of lending a savage character or local color to the music, as in

the preëminent case of MacDowell's 'Indian Suite.' This is exactly

analogous to the use of Oriental color by such composers as Saint-Saëns

or Delibes. 'Arrangements,' or harmonizations, attempted upon the

basis of our European scale have led to some pleasing results at the

hands of Frederick R. Burton, Arthur Farwell and others, but at a

total sacrifice of the original character of the tunes. What appeal

such arrangements have to our ears depends entirely upon the harmonic

texture or a readjustment of the melody according to European ideas,

not upon its intrinsic value.

'Folk-songs are echoes of the heart-beats of the vast folk and in them

are preserved feelings, beliefs and habits of vast antiquity. Not only

in the words, which have almost monopolized folk-song study so far,

but also in music and perhaps more truthfully in the music than in the

words. Music cannot lie, for the reason that the things which are at

its base, the things without which it could not be, are unconscious,

involitional human products.'[61] It is evident that unless we

understand or feel 'the things which are at its base' we cannot respond

to the utterances that express them. If for no other reason, the songs

of the Indian, because they express the emotions of man at a lower and

totally foreign stage of culture, cannot enter into assimilation, with

our own. They are therefore not significant to Americans as folk-songs

and we have accordingly treated them under the heading of Primitive

Music in Volume I (pp. 1 ff.).

With the Indian rejected as a source of folk-song where are we to

find such sources? Folk-songs, according to a dictionary definition,

are 'marked by certain peculiarities of rhythm, form, and melody,

which are traceable, more or less clearly, to racial (or national)

temperament, modes of life, climatic and political conditions,

geographical environment and language.' The distinction of one

kind of folk-song from another therefore depends upon a difference

in these peculiarities, and we shall have to look for distinctive

characteristics that belong to no other race if we are to find a

truly indigenous folk-song. On the other hand, the _conditions_ under

which folk-song grows (for it does 'grow' while its sophisticated

counterpart is 'built') are essentially the same. The proverbial dictum

that 'sorrow is the mother of song' is true as a general rule. It

is borne out by the fact that a great majority of the folk-songs of

all nations carry a note of melancholy, and a great preponderance of

all such songs is in the minor mode. But this is particularly so in

Northern countries. No doubt the harsher climatic conditions impose a

heavier burden of care. Mr. Krehbiel, who has examined many folk-songs

with regard to the relative proportion of modes, remarks that nearly

all of Russian song shows the minor predominance peculiar to Northern

countries, and he concludes that political conditions have much the

same effect as climatic ones.

Of course, the songs of happiness are many, too, but even these are

in a measure the product of suffering, for man recognizes well-being

very often only by contrast; continuous bliss he is apt to manifest by

indifference. Hence we are not surprised that the strongest outbursts

of joy, often wild and boisterous, are common to the nations whose

dominant note is grief. But whatever the country, folk-song springs

invariably from the poorest classes, and most often from the peasant,

for, exposed to the phenomena of nature as well as to economic stress,

his imagination is constantly stirred by the beauties of the earth, the

mysteries and the tragedy of life.

In looking for analogous conditions in America we may think first

of the pioneer, the early settler, who no doubt had hardships to

endure and privations to suffer. But by peculiar circumstances he was

unfitted for the creation of song. Springing largely from a notoriously

unimaginative tradesman's class, inspired by the stern principles of a

piety that deliberately suppressed impulsive expression as sinful, and

almost constantly engaged in savage warfare, he may hardly be looked

upon as an originator of poetic beauty. Moreover, his English culture

clung to him for generations, while politically he considered himself

an Englishman. The songs he sang, therefore, were the songs of his

fathers, and precious little social opportunity he had for indulging in

their charm. Isolation and lack of communication effectually precluded

a current interchange of ideas.

In a great measure these conditions apply to the subsequent generations

of all European races in America--the pioneers as well as the later

immigrants. Their own traditions, whatever their nationality, are

preserved for a generation or so to the exclusion of new influences;

then the old songs die away and the memory of them becomes obliterated

in the great stream of cosmopolitanism. Only in isolated spots, where

a race, especially strong in tradition or racial peculiarities, or

where a mere aggregation of people, united in a common mode of life,

is sequestered, have these traditions survived or engendered new ones.

Instances of this are the French Canadians, the Creoles of Louisiana,

the Spanish-Americans of Mexico and California, and the mountaineers

of Kentucky and Virginia. These people have a folk-song peculiar to

themselves, which is founded, however, upon a traditional racial idiom,

and may therefore be classed as 'adapted' or 'transformed' folk-song.

For the indigenous American folk-song we shall have to look elsewhere.

The only caste in American history whose condition in any way

resembled that of the peasant class in Europe was the negro slave

of the South. Not only was he subjected to sufferings, hardships,

and oppression, but, injected into a civilization in which he found

himself an outcast, he was forced to create a racial existence for

himself, which, while it adapted elements of the society that ruled

him, nevertheless was bound to be distinctive because of a peculiar

admixture of savage customs and superstitions, the imperfection of his

understanding, and the extraordinary emotional makeup of his character.

The negro in his uncivilized way was endowed with the ingenuousness

of a child, and the susceptibility to impressions that goes with

the untutored mind. He had a childlike, poetic nature, a natural

gift of song, an emotionalism and a sentimentality that responded

unfailingly to all the pangs of an unjust and cruel existence. The

ruthless severing of family ties, the physical pains, the hardships of

labor found a direct expression in his music, the idiom of which was

partly innate and partly acquired. Add to this the intense religious

excitement to which the negro is subject--an emotion which seems

to have translated itself with all its elemental power from savage

idolatry to Christian worship--and you have a combination which could

not but produce a striking result. 'Nowhere save on the plantation

of the South could the emotional life which is essential to the

development of true folk-song be developed, nowhere else was there

the necessary meeting of the spiritual cause and the simple agent and

vehicle.'[62]

The peculiar fact that the one true indigenous class of American

folk-song is the product of an African race is, as we have seen, due

to circumstances alone. It is no reflection upon the capabilities of

the other races for artistic expression. It simply demonstrates the

fact that folk-song grows under certain conditions and no other. A

nation that is prosperous, that is plunged headlong into the feverish

activities of industrial progress, cannot be expected to bring forth

melancholy 'complaints' or gems of contemplative lyricism. But there

come even to such nations moments of national stress that give rise

to unusual outbursts. While these are usually voiced by single

individuals, they reproduce so vividly the spirit of the people that

they often rank with folk-songs in spontaneity and directness. Such are

the patriotic songs, whose creation accompanied every war and every

revolution. Often they are mere adaptations of freshly composed words

to old but stirring tunes, which thus take on a new significance--often

these very tunes are 'captured' from the enemy and annexed to the

country's flag. Such was the case in the War of the Revolution, in the

War of 1812, and again in the Civil War. These songs--not strictly

folk-songs--might better be described as 'songs in the folk manner,'

a distinction indicated in German by the adjective _volkstümlich_ or

_volksmässig_.

Such songs in the folk manner follow in the wake of every considerable

folk-song tradition. They have not failed to do so in America, and it

is significant that the spirit which they reproduce or aim to reproduce

is the spirit of the negro folk-song. The movement, or after-movement,

started with the imitation of negro ditties by white composers in

connection with the so-called negro minstrel troupes which, beginning

about 1845, became a favorite form of amusement in the United States.

Its culmination must be recognized in the work of such men as Stephen

Foster and Henry Clay Work, whose works are part of the permanent stock

of American lyrics. Beyond this the negro song has had an influence

upon the so-called American popular song, a degenerate type which

has appropriated, often in distorted form, some of the character of

plantation song, notably the peculiar form of syncopation known as

'ragtime.'

We have now enumerated all the subdivisions of folk-song in its

broader sense: the native folk-song proper, exemplified by the negro

plantation song; the song in the folk manner, exemplified by the negro

minstrel tunes, the work of Stephen Foster and the patriotic songs,

adapted or original; the adapted folk-song of the French-Canadian,

Spanish-American, the Kentucky mountaineer, etc.; and, finally, the

simon-pure folk-song of foreign birth, perpetuated in America by

immigrants. All of these are vital forces in American composition and

as such must receive more detailed attention.

II

The discussion of the negroes' claim to the title 'American' would

be perhaps out of place at this late date, and particularly in this

place, were it not that a considerable class of American citizens has

denied to them not only social equality but equal consideration and

opportunity as a native citizen of the country. The preponderance of

European blood in the nation hardly justifies this any more than it

would justify the exclusion of the large number of Americans that are

of anciently oriental origin. In contrast with this the name 'American'

is never denied to the Indian, but priority of settlement can hardly

be argued in his favor, for by such reasoning the negro has superior

claims over some of the 'elect' of the white elements among Americans.

Negroes were sold into slavery in Virginia before the landing of

the Pilgrims in 1790. The first census of the United States showed

759,208 negroes, and to-day they constitute nearly 13 per cent. of the

entire population. Their intellectual powers have been amply proved

by the achievements of individual members of the race, in science, in

education, and in the arts. It is hardly necessary to name such men as

Booker T. Washington, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and Dr. Burghardt DuBois

in support of this. Mr. Krehbiel, however, does well in quoting the

last-named of these in proving the present contention:

'Your country? How came it yours? Before the Pilgrims landed we were

here. Here we have brought three gifts and mingled them with yours--a

gift of story and song, soft stirring melody in an ill-harmonized

and unmelodious land; the gift of sweat and brawn to beat back the

wilderness, conquer the soil and lay the foundations of this vast

economic empire two hundred years earlier than your weak hands could

have done it; the third a gift of the Spirit. Around us the history of

the land has centred for thrice a hundred years; out of the nation's

heart we have called all that was best, to throttle and subdue what was

worst; fire and blood, prayer and sacrifice have billowed over this

people, and they have found peace only in the altars of the God of

Right....'

The negroes' songs are sung in the language of the country--or a

dialect of it; and, while they do not voice the sentiments of the

entire population--no song in a country so heterogeneous could do

that--they are American songs by the same right that the peasant songs

of Russia are Russian or the song of any other class of Americans would

be American.

In order to prove the originality of the negro folk-song it has

been necessary to combat the opinion of so learned a writer as Dr.

Wallaschek,[63] who has contended that these songs are 'unmistakably

"arranged"--not to say ignorantly borrowed--from the national songs

of all nations, from military signals, well-known marches, German

students' songs, etc., unless it is pure accident which has caused me

to light upon traces of so many of them.' This radical statement, while

it has the force of scientific deduction, is erroneous in the premises

upon which these deductions are based. Dr. Wallaschek has relied

too freely upon the testimony of travellers whose musical knowledge

is doubtful and he has evidently confused genuine slave songs with

imitations of them, such as the so-called minstrel tunes written by

whites. Besides, as Mr. Krehbiel very plausibly remarks, 'similarities

exist between the folk-songs of all peoples. Their overlapping is a

necessary consequence of the proximity and intermingling of peoples,

like modifications of language; and there are some characteristics

which all songs except those of the rudest and most primitive kind

must have in common. The prevalence of the diatonic scales and

march-rhythms, for instance, make parallels invariable. If the use of

such scales and rhythms in the folk-songs of the American negroes is

an evidence of plagiarism or imitation, it is to be feared that the

peoples whose music they put under tribute have been equally culpable

with them. Mr. William Francis Allen--with Charles Pickard Ware and

Lucy McKim Garrison the compiler of the most famous collection of negro

songs[64]--while admitting that negro music is partly imitative of the

music of the whites, says that 'in the main it appears to be original

in the best sense of the word, and the more we examine the subject,

the more genuine it appears to be.' Only in a very few songs does Mr.

Allen trace strains of less familiar music which the slaves heard

their masters sing or play. In spite of this, the songs themselves

prove that they are the spontaneous utterances of an entire people.

As in the case of all folk-songs, their first germs were uttered by

individual spokesmen, but these germs were such genuine reflections of

sentiments common to all and were subjected to such modifications in

their travels from lip to lip as to assume the character of a composite

expression of the race. They are indeed 'original and native products.

They contain idioms transplanted hither from Africa, but as songs they

are the product of American institutions, of the social, political, and

geographical environment within which their creators were placed in

America; of the joys, sorrows, and experiences which fell to their lot

in America.'

Having established the 'Americanism' and the originality of the negro

folk-song, and having stated the presence of an African as well as

European element, we may now attempt to point definitely to instances

of both. Generally speaking, the African characteristics consist of

rhythmic and melodic aberration, while the European ingredients find

expression in the harmonic structure and the style of the melodies

as far as they are influenced by that structure. But this statement

is subject to qualifications. While the African, like every other

exotic race, is generally innocent of harmonic science, travellers

have brought evidences of a genuine natural feeling for harmony among

the African tribes. Thus a German officer recounted to John W. D.

Moodie[65] how his playing of an aria from Gluck's _Orfeo_ on the

violin was immediately imitated _with accompaniments_ by the native

Hottentots. Peter Kolbe, writing in 1719, testified to the Hottentots'

playing of their _gom-goms_ in harmony, and Mr. Krehbiel records the

singing of a Dahoman minstrel at the World's Columbian Exposition

(1893) to the accompaniment of a Chinese harp as follows: 'With his

right hand he played over and over again a descending passage of dotted

crotchets and quavers in thirds; with his left hand he syncopated

ingeniously on the highest tuned string.' According to the same writer,

another investigator, Dr. Wangemann, transcribed a hymn by a Kaffir in

which the solos were sung in unison but the refrain in full harmony.

These instances should give some clue to the extraordinary ability of

negroes to 'harmonize,' that is, improvise harmonies to a given melody.

Of course, the strongest musical accomplishment of the African is his

extraordinary command of rhythm. As is the case with most primitive

music, the rhythm of the African music is determined by the native

dances. The drum, which marks the rhythm, is the most important

instrument of the African, and his ability upon it is nothing short

of marvellous. He has developed a 'drum language' which he uses in

signalling in war time and for communication at long distance. 'The

most refined effects of the modern tympanist seem to be put in the

shade by the devices used by African drummers in varying the sound

of their instruments so as to make them convey meanings, not by

conventional formulas but by actual imitation of words.'[66] Their

ability to use cross rhythms and intricate effects of syncopation is

evidently inherited by the American negroes, whose prowess in that

direction may be verified in a thousand dance halls. Syncopation and

the peculiar form of it which Mr. Krehbiel refers to as the 'Scotch

snap' is indeed the outstanding characteristic of all negro music.

The short note on a strong beat immediately followed by a longer one

on a weak beat, and the consequent shifted rhythm popularly known as

'ragtime' is scarcely ever absent in negro folk-music. That it is a

heritage from Africa seems to be conclusively proved by the recording

of such melodies as these:

[Illustration: Music score]

Drum Call from West Africa.

[Illustration: Music score]

Hottentot Melody.

Next to their rhythmic snap, the most radically outlandish

characteristic of the negro songs is their frequent variation from the

diatonic scale. This most often takes the form of a raised (major)

sixth in a minor key (while the seventh is not varied or is omitted

altogether); the raised seventh in the minor scale, or the flattened

seventh in the major. Besides these 'wild notes,' as Mr. Krehbiel calls

them, there are omissions of certain notes of the scale that produce a

decided exotic effect. Thus we have the major scale without the seventh

or without the fourth, and the minor scale without the sixth. The major

scale with both the fourth and the seventh omitted, in other words the

pentatonic scale, familiar in all primitive and exotic music as well

as in certain folk-tunes, notably the Celtic, is also present in negro

song. There are, moreover, examples in the so-called whole-tone scale.

The effect produced by these aberrations constitutes the most beautiful

quality of negro music. We cannot refrain from quoting here an example

or two. The raised sixth in the minor scale is most exquisitely shown

in the famous 'spiritual' 'You May Bury Me in de Eas',' which we quote

in full, without harmonization:[67]

[Illustration: Music score]

You may bur-y me in the East, You may bur-y me in the West; But I'll

hear the trump-et sound In that morn-ing. In that morn-ing, my Lord,

How I long to go, For to hear the trump-et sound, In that morn-ing.

Another instance is seen in the second section of 'Come Tremble-ing

Down,' the first part of which is in C major, turning into A minor with

a striking disregard of harmonic convention, and proceeding as follows:

[Illustration: Music score]

Come trem-ble-ing down, go shout-ing home, Safe in the

sweet arms of

Je-sus, Come Je-sus, 'Twas just a-bout the break of day,

King Je-sus stole my

heart a-way, 'Twas just a-bout the break of day, King

Je-sus stole my heart a-way.

Such examples contain nothing that is imitative. Their disregard for

the natural progressions of diatonic melody leave no doubt that the

negro possessed, to begin with, a wholly independent sense of tonality,

which sense he has in some measure retained or compromised. As an

instance of the minor seventh in the major scale take 'A Great Camp

Meetin'.' We quote only the last three measures of the first section in

order to establish the key:

[Illustration: Music score]

Don't you get a-weary, Dere's a great camp-meet-in' in de

prom-ised land, Gwine to mourn an' neb-ber tire,——— mourn

an' neb-ber tire, mourn an' neb-ber tire;— Dere's a great

camp-meet-in' in de prom-ised land.

And, as a last example of tunes that have little in common with any

other kind of folk-song, a melody worthy of the sophistication of an

ultra-modern composer, let us add 'O'er the Crossing':

[Illustration: Music score]

Bendin' knees a achin', Body rack'd wid pain, I wish I was a child

of God, I'd

git home bime by. Keep prain', I do believe We're a long time

waggin' o' de

crossin'. Keep prayin', I do believe We'll git home

to heaven bime by.

There are many, many more.[68] Melodic imagination of a high order

would be required to produce consciously such melodies as these. There

is in them little that is trivial, nothing that is frivolous. Even the

'rhythmic snap' never sounds cheap in true negro music, as distinct

from worthless imitations and so-called popular music--'coon songs' and

the like. Note the following as a noble example of its use:

[Illustration: Music score]

Nobody know's the trouble I see, Lord, Nobody know's the

trouble I see;

Nobody know's the trouble I see, Lord, Nobody

knows but Jesus.

Brothers, will you pray for me, Brothers, will

you pray for me,

Brothers, will you pray for me, And help me to

drive old Sa-tan a-way?

In summing up the melodic and rhythmic characteristics of negro

tunes we may state the apparently contradictory fact that the great

majority of them are in the major mode, notwithstanding their almost

ever-present note of sadness. Out of 527 songs analyzed by Mr. Krehbiel

416 are in ordinary major, only 62 in ordinary minor, 23 'mixed and

vague,' and 111 pentatonic. Herein the negro folk-song differs from

most other folk-songs. Its Southern habitat would, of course, seem to

predispose it to major, and thus it bears out the argument in favor of

climatic influence. Nevertheless the effect of sadness in the melodies

does not escape us. Often it is produced by the aberrations of which we

have spoken; but more often it is less tangible. In the words of Dr.

DuBois 'these songs are the music of an unhappy people, of the children

of disappointment; and they tell of death and suffering and unvoiced

longing toward a truer world, of misty wanderings and hidden ways.'

Practically all of the songs are in duple and quadruple rhythm, triple

time is extremely rare. The rhythmic propulsion is always strong. The

persistent excitement of rhythm is evidently an African relic and the

sense of it is so strong as to overcome the natural tendencies of the

text. 'The negroes keep exquisite time,' says Mr. Allen, 'and do not

suffer themselves to be daunted by any obstacle in the words. The most

obstinate hymns they will force to do duty with any tune they please

and will dash heroically through a trochaic tune at the head of a

column of iambs with wonderful skill.'

The form of the songs is, of course, determined by the structure of the

verse. They are composed of simple two-and four-bar phrases. Four such

usually make up a stanza, while four more are comprised in the 'chorus'

often placed at the beginning of the song and repeated after every

verse. The stanzas of the older songs commonly contain an alternating

solo and refrain; the second and fourth lines are usually given to the

refrain and the first and third to the verse, the third being often

a repetition of the first. In some cases the refrain occupies three

lines and the verse the remaining one. 'The refrain is repeated with

each stanza,' says Mr. Allen concerning the manner of performance,

'the words of the verse are changed at the pleasure of the leader, or

fugleman, who sings either well-known words, or, if he is gifted that

way invents verses as the song goes on.'[69]

Some difficulty was experienced by those who have transcribed the

music of the negroes in reproducing 'the entire character' of the songs

by the conventional symbols of the art. This is due in part to the

primitive elements in the music, and in part to the peculiar manner of

the performance. The characteristic improvisational style of the negro,

the peculiar quality of the voices, and the slurring of certain values

are all necessary in order to produce the proper effect. Moreover, the

improvised harmony, simple as it was, had become an inherent part of

the music not easily to be reproduced. The following description, taken

from 'Slave Songs in the United States,' may be illuminating in this

connection:

'There is no singing in _parts_, as we understand it, and yet no two

appear to be singing the same thing; the leading singer starts the

words of each verse, often improvising, and the others who "base"

him, as it is called, strike in with the refrain, or even join in the

solo when the words are familiar. When the "base" begins the leader

often stops, leaving the rest of the words to be guessed at, or it may

be they are taken up by one of the other singers. And the "basers"

themselves seem to follow their own whims, beginning when they please

and leaving off when they please, striking an octave above or below (in

case they have pitched the tune too high), or hitting some other note

that "chords," so as to produce the effect of a marvellous complication

and variety and yet with the most perfect time and variety, and yet

rarely with any discord. And what makes it all the harder to unravel

a thread of melody out of this strange network is that, like birds,

they seem not infrequently to strike sounds that cannot be precisely

represented by the gamut and abound in "slides" from one note to

another and turns and cadences not in articulated notes.'

A word should be added here regarding the instruments used by the

negro. The one most closely identified with him is, of course, the

banjo, which, in a primitive form, he is said to have brought from

Africa. The 'banjar' to which Thomas Jefferson refers in his 'Notes on

Virginia' was an instrument of four strings, or perhaps less at first,

whose head was covered with a rattlesnake's skin, and which resembled

closely an instrument used by the Chinese. (_Cf._ Vol. I, p. 54.) It is

thought that the original banjo was a melodic rather than a harmonic

instrument, which is the peculiar office of its modern off-spring, and,

since the negro's music was at first purely melodic, it must have been

accordingly played. The tuning, too, was probably very different from

that of the banjo of to-day.

Besides this, the negro's chief instrument was the drum, as already

indicated. There were two principal sizes, made of a hollowed log (the

smaller one often of bamboo sections) over the end of which sheep

or goat skin was stretched. These drums were played in a horizontal

position, the player sitting on the instrument astride. Then there

were rattles, some like the Indians', some consisting of a jaw-bone

of an animal, across which a piece of metal was 'rasped'; also the

_morimbabrett_, consisting of a small shallow box of thin wood, with

several sections of reed, of graduated lengths, placed across it, the

ends of which were plucked by the player. The familiar Pan's pipes,

made from two joints of brake cane ('quills') and various noise

instruments--'bones,' triangle, tambourine, and whistles--were all made

to do duty. But when the negro had become thoroughly civilized the

violin became his favorite instrument, and the 'technique' he achieved

upon it without any real training has often astonished the white

listener.

III

Attention was not directed to the value of negro songs till the middle

of the nineteenth century. Considerable research resulted finally in

the publication of several collections, of which the 'Slave Songs

of the United States,' already mentioned above, was the first. This

collection of songs represents every phase in the gamut of expression.

The so-called 'sorrow' songs, the oldest surviving negro songs, are

perhaps the most expressive. Some of them have sprung from the memories

of a single act of cruelty, or an event of such tragedy as to create a

really deep impression. Others echo simply the hardships encountered

day by day. There are songs, too, that reflect the sunshine and gaiety

that was not altogether foreign to plantation life, but those inspired

by grief are the most beautiful. Then there are the 'occupational'

songs suggested by the rhythm of labor which form a part of every

kind of folk-song the world over. The value of such songs was fully

recognized by the slaves' masters, for they were unfailing accelerators

of labor, and it is known that the slaves who led the singing in the

field were given special rewards. In consequence of this the negroes

generally came to abhor that class of songs, and it is significant

that very few of the 'corn songs,' 'reel tunes,' 'fiddle songs,' and

'devil songs' have been preserved, while hundreds of the religious

songs--'spirituals,' etc.--are now common property.[70]

A special class of labor songs were the so-called 'railroad songs,'

which originated during the Civil War, when negroes were employed in

building earth works and fortifications. They consisted of a series of

rhythmic, protracted chants, upon words usually originated by a leader.

Railroad tracks were laid to these same strains--hence their name.

Their originality of thought and the fact that they represent the last

spontaneous outburst of the negro under rapidly changing conditions,

lends them a special interest. The railroad itself naturally stimulated

the negro's imagination. He introduced it metaphorically even in his

religious songs: the Christian was a traveller, the Lord was the

conductor and the ministers were the brakemen. At gospel stations the

train stopped for those that were saved, or to supply the engine with

the water of life. All of the negro's power of imagery was here brought

into play.

The love songs of the negro are few and those few lack depth, and

sometimes border on frivolity. An exception is usually made for 'Poor

Rosy,' concerning which one old negress has said that 'it cannot be

sung without a full heart and troubled spirit.'

We have already pointed out the preponderance of religious songs

in the folk-music of the negro. The reason is not hard to find. In

his aboriginal home religious rite, music and dance were closely

associated, as they are in the life of all primitive peoples. The

African's religion was a form of idolatry known as voodooism. Connected

with it were certain chants and rites, relics of which have long

survived.[71] These primitive rites were calculated to excite the

emotions rather than to uplift the spirit and under this excitement

the negro gave voice to the music that was in him. He accepted the

Christian religion as a substitute just as he accepted the English

language as a substitute for his African tongue. He garbled both.

He considered the new religion not in a dogmatic, philosophical, or

ethical sense, but rather as an emotional experience. When under

religious excitement he would wander through the woods in swamps much

like the ancient Bacchantes. 'A race imbued with strong religious

sentiment,' says Mr. M. A. Haskell,[72] 'one rarely finds among them

an adult who has not gone through that emotional experience known as

conversion, after which it is considered vanity and sinfulness to

indulge in song other than of a sacred character.'

His religion became the negro's one relief, comfort, and enjoyment.

His daily life became tinged with his belief; in his very sufferings

he saw the fulfillments of its promises. Nothing but patience for this

life, nothing but triumph in the next--that was the tenor of his lay.

Emancipation he thought of in terms of ultimate salvation rather than

earthly freedom. Thus he sang:

'Children, we shall all be free,

Children, we shall all be free,

Children, we shall all be free,

When the Lord shall appear.'

A religious allegory colored nearly all his songs, a pathetic,

childlike trust in the supernatural spoke through them, and biblical

references, echoes of the 'meetin',' shreds of the minister's teaching,

were strewn indiscriminately through all of them. 'The rolling of

Jordan's waters, the sound of the last trumpet, the vision of Jacob's

ladder, the building of the ark, Daniel in the lion's den, Ezekiel's

wheel in the middle of a wheel, Elijah's chariot of fire, the breaking

up of the Universe, the lurid pictures of the Apocalypse--all asked for

swelling proclamation.' Analogies between the chosen people and their

own in bondage were inevitable--and 'Hallelujahs' seemed as appropriate

in secular songs as in spiritual ones.

Often biblical words were garbled into mere nonsense. Thus 'Jews

crucified him' became 'Jews, screws, defidum,' etc. The personality of

the Prince of Darkness assumed a degree of reality which reminds us of

the characters of mediæval miracle plays. One of the songs personifies

him thus:

'O Satan comes, like a busy ole man,

Hal-ly, O hal-ly, O hal-lelu!

He gets you down at de foot o' de hill,

Hal-ly, O hal-ly, O hal-lelu!'

The so-called spirituals ('sper'chels) hold perhaps the largest place

in the negro's sacred repertory. These plantation songs--'spontaneous

outbursts of intense religious fervor'--had their origin chiefly in

the camp-meetings, the revivals, and other religious exercises. 'They

breathe a childlike faith in a personal Father and glow with the hope

that the children of bondage will ultimately pass out of the wilderness

into the land of freedom.' To them belong such gems as 'You May Bury Me

in the Eas',' the plaintive 'Nobody Knows de Trouble I see,' the tender

'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,' and many others as rare.

At meetings the spirituals were often accompanied by a most

extraordinary form of religious ceremony, namely the so-called

'shouts,' which flourished particularly in South Carolina and south of

it during antebellum days.[73] The spirituals sung in this connection

were consequently called 'shout songs' or 'running spirituals.' The

shouts were veritable religious orgies, or bacchanalia, and no doubt

represent a relic of an African custom. Julien Tiersot refers to them

as 'dishevelled dances.'[74] A vivid description of a shout is given by

a writer in 'The Nation' of May 30, 1867:

'... The "shout" takes place on Sundays, or on "praise" nights

throughout the week, and either in the praise-house or in some cabin

in which a regular religious meeting has been held. Very likely more

than half the population of a plantation is gathered together. Let

it be the evening, and a light fire burns red before the door of the

house and on the hearth. For sometime one hears, though at a good

distance, a vociferous exhortation or prayer of the presiding elder or

of the brother who has a gift that way and is not "on the back seat"--a

phrase the interpretation of which is "under the censure of the church

authorities for bad behavior"--and at regular intervals one hears the

elder "deaconing" a hymn-book hymn, which is sung two lines at a time

and whose wailing cadences, borne on the night air, are indescribably

melancholy.

'But the benches are pushed back to the wall when the formal meeting

is over, and old and young, men and women, sprucely dressed young

men, grotesquely half-clad field hands--the women generally with gay

handkerchiefs twisted about their heads and with short skirts--boys

with tattered shirts and men's trousers, young girls barefooted, all

stand up in the middle of the floor, and when the "sperichil" is struck

up begin first walking and by and by shuffling around, one after the

other, in a ring. The foot is hardly taken from the floor, and the

progression is mainly due to a jerking, twitching motion which agitates

the entire shouter and soon brings out streams of perspiration.

Sometimes they dance silently, sometimes as they shuffle they sing

the chorus of the spiritual, and sometimes the song itself is sung by

the dancers. But more frequently a band, composed of some of the best

singers and of tired shouters, stand at the side of the room to "base"

the others, singing the body of the song and clapping their hands

together on the knees. Song and dance are alike extremely energetic,

and often, when the shout lasts into the middle of the night, the

monotonous thud, thud of the feet prevents sleep within half a mile of

the praise house.'

Closely related to the shout songs are the funeral songs which

accompanied the 'wakes' and burials of the negroes. They were sung

in a low monotonous croon by those who 'sat up' and are particularly

noted for their irregularity in everything except rhythm. The negroes

are especially inclined to voice their sorrow in nocturnal song, as

their savage ancestors did before them, and likewise they indulged

in funeral dances at night. Mrs. Jeanette Robinson Murphy, writing

in 'The Independent,' speaks of a custom in which hymns are sung at

the deathbed to become messengers to loved ones gone before and which

the departing soul is charged to bear to heaven. 'When a woman dies

some friend or relative will kneel down and sing to the soul as it

takes flight. One of these songs contains endless verses, conveying

remembrances to relatives in glory.' Often these funeral songs convey

deep emotion in a nobly poetic vein. An example recorded by Colonel

Thomas Wentworth Higginson has the following words:

'I know moonlight, I know starlight,

I lay dis body down.

I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,

I lay dis body down.

I know de graveyard, I know de graveyard,

When I lay dis body down.

I walk in de graveyard, I walk troo de graveyard,

Fo lay dis body down.

I lay in de grave, and stretch out my arm;

I lay dis body down.

I go to de judgment in de evenin' of de day,

When I lay dis body down,

An' my soul an' your soul will meet in de day

When I lay dis body down.'

'Never, it seems to me,' comments Col. Higginson, 'since man first

lived and suffered, was his infinite longing for peace uttered more

plaintively than in that line.' There are many other examples of such

funeral songs preserved; some of them Mr. Krehbiel has reprinted in his

'Afro-American Folksongs' (pp. 100 ff.).

Few of the secular songs have survived. Even these, it seems, were

often made to do service in the religious meeting, on the Wesleyan

principle that it would not do to let the devil have all the good

tunes. Some songs, on the other hand, were used to accompany rowing as

well as 'shouting'--probably because of the similarity of the rhythm

in the two motions. In 'Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,' which was a

real boat-song, not a human Michael but the archangel himself was

meant. Other tunes used for rowing were 'Heav'n Bell a-ring',' 'Jine

'em,' 'Rainfall,' 'No Man,' and 'Can't stay behin'.' Similarly, other

spirituals were used as working songs, for their rhythms were hardly

ever sluggish. As a good specimen of purely secular songs--'the strange

barbaric songs that one hears upon the Western steamboats'--Mr. W. F.

Allen points to the following:

[Illustration: Music score]

I'm gwine to Alabamy, Oh!----

For to see my mammy, Oh!----

She went from ole Virginny,

And I'm her pickaninny,

She lives on the Tombigbee,

I wish I had her wid me.

Now I'm a good big nigger,

I reckon I won't git bigger,

But I'd like to see my mammy,

Who lives in Alabamy.

The negro's natural impulse for dancing seems to have found its outlet

in the 'shout,' as far as the Atlantic seaboard states are concerned at

least, for the Christian sects promptly stamped out the dances which

were connected with primitive superstition. In Louisiana, however, the

negro came in contact with a very different sort of people, the Spanish

and French settlers--southern races of a more sensuous turn than the

Anglo-Saxon. The musical result was the superposition of Spanish and

French melody over negro rhythms--the two ingredients of the Creole

folk-songs, which are to a large extent dance songs.

The warlike and lascivious dances of the African took on a more

civilized form under the influence of Spanish and French culture,

though they are said in some cases to have remained licentious enough.

But the product has been highly influential musically. Thus the

fascinating Habañera, the familiar rhythm of many a Spanish melody,

is, according to Albert Friedenthal,[75] of negro origin. As its

name indicates, Havana was its home and from there it spread to all

Spanish and Portuguese America, the West Indies, Central and South

America. 'Extended and complicated rhythms are known only where the

negroes are to be found,' says our investigator. Mr. Krehbiel quotes a

creole song from Martinique, built upon the Habañera rhythm, entitled

_Tant sirop est doux_, and speaks of Afro-American songs in which

the characteristic rhythm is so persistently used as to suggest that

they were influenced by a subconscious memory of the old dance. Other

dances of negro origin, mentioned by writers on the Antilles, are the

Bamboula, Bouèné, Counjai, Kalinda, Bélé, Bengume, Babouille, Cata,

and Guiouba. The term 'juba' applied to the plucking accompaniments of

negro dance-songs in minstrel shows may be a derivative of the last.

In speaking of the Creole we must emphasize that the word is not

properly applied to any persons of mixed stock, as has been frequently

done. Creole is a word of Spanish etymology and was used to denote the

pure-blooded Spanish or French native of the American colonies. But it

is the negro slaves of these creoles--whom we may call black creoles

(including mulattoes, quadroons, etc.)--that created the charming

songs breathing the spirit of the tepid zone along the great gulf and

the Father of Waters. They, too, are the creators of the _patois_ to

which the songs are set. Concerning the origin of this _patois_ Mr.

Krehbiel gives some interesting details: 'The creole patois, though

never reduced to writing by its users, is still a living language. It

is the medium of communication between black nurses and their charges

in the French families of Louisiana to-day, and half a century ago

it was exclusively spoken by French creoles up to the age of ten or

twelve years. In fact, children had to be weaned from it with bribes or

punishment. It was, besides, the language which the slave spoke to his

master and the master to him. The need which created it was the same as

that which created the corrupt English of the slaves in other parts of

the country.... Thus, then, grew the pretty language, soft in the mouth

of the creole as _bella lingua in bocca toscana_, in which the creole

sang of his love, gave rhythmical impulse to the dance, or scourged

with satire those who fell under his displeasure.'

The Creole songs, according to Lafcadio Hearn, are 'Frenchy in

construction but possess a few African characteristics of method.'

'There could neither have been creole patois nor creole melodies

but for the French and Spanish blooded slaves of Louisiana and the

Antilles. The melancholy, quavering beauty and weirdness of the negro

chant are lightened by the French influence, subdued and deepened by

the Spanish.' Unlike the negro slave of the Virginias and Carolinas,

etc., who poured out all his emotion in gospel hymn and spirituals, the

black creole was especially fond of love-songs--crooning love songs in

the soft, pretty words of his patois--some sad, some light-hearted. One

is 'the tender lament of one who was the evil of his heart's choice the

victim of chagrin in beholding a female rival wearing those vestments

of extra quality that could only be the favors which both women had

courted from the hand of some proud master whence alone such favors

could come.'[76] Another, 'Caroline,' reveals the romance and the

tragedy of the dramatic life of the young creole slaves. We quote it

here, as our one example of creole tunes:

[Illustration: Music score]

Aine, dé, trois, Caroline, ça, ça, yé comme ça, ma chère!

Aine, dé, trois, Caroline, ça, ça, yé comme ça, ma chère!

Papa di non, man-man di oui, C'est li mo oulé, c'est li ma pren. Ya

pas lar-zan pon a-cheté cabanne, C'est li mo oulé, c'est li ma pren.

In general, the love song of the black Creole is more distinctive

than that of other Afro-Americans. A famous example is 'Layotte,'

utilized by Louis Moreau Gottschalk (b. New Orleans, 1829, of French

and English parentage), who achieved international fame both as pianist

and composer. Gottschalk did much to make the charm of Creole melodies

known to the world. The themes of his piano pieces perpetuate many of

these melodies, among them _Avant, grenadier_, which forms the theme

of one of his earliest compositions, _Bananier_. The popularity of

Gottschalk and the general interest which his music aroused in Paris

and elsewhere was one of the sensations of the musical world of that

day.

Another class of lyrics peculiar to the Creoles were the satirical

songs which may be a survival of a primitive practice brought by

their ancestors from America. At carnival times scores of these songs

make their appearance--or reappearance,--new and topical words being

applied to the old tunes, and public as well as personal grudges are

taken out in this manner. Such songs are _Musieu Bainjo_, a mild bit

of pleasantry leveled at a darkey who 'put on airs,' and _Michié

Préval_, of which Mr. Cable says that for generations the man of

municipal politics was fortunate who escaped entirely a lampooning

set to its air. 'Its swinging and incisive rhythm made it the most

effective vehicle for satire which the Creole folk-song has ever

known.' (Krehbiel.) In Martinique these satirical songs, or _pillards_,

are more malicious in intent and often cruel in the relentless public

castigation they inflict upon the objects of their makers' hate.

Other creole songs are of a historical nature, recording events or

episodes of importance to the community. The invasion of Louisiana by

the British in 1814, and the capture of New Orleans by the Union forces

in 1862, for instance, were thus chronicled.

* * * * *

The musical value and the charm of negro songs were little appreciated

until the Jubilee Singers of Fisk University, Tenn., made their

famous tour, which began in October, 1871. George L. White, the

treasurer of the school--one of the institutions for the education of

the blacks that came under the patronage of the American Missionary

Association--desirous of raising funds for its maintenance, was struck

with the artistic possibilities of the little choir of students which

he had organized and trained. After several successful concerts held

in nearby towns he embarked upon a grand tour of the country, with the

object of raising a fund of $20,000. The little company of emancipated

slaves--at no time more than fourteen strong--gave the world so

remarkable a demonstration of the musical qualities of their race that

the matter has hardly been called into question since. In less than

three years, moreover, they brought back to Fisk University nearly

$100,000. Their adventures are told in detail by J. B. T. Marsh, who,

in his 'Story of the Jubilee Singers,' says in part: 'They were turned

away from hotels and driven out of railroad waiting rooms because of

their color. But they had been received with honor by the President of

the United States, they had sung their slave songs before the Queen

of Great Britain, and they had gathered as invited guests about the

breakfast-table of her Prime Minister. Their success was as remarkable

as their mission was unique!

The climax of their tour was the participation in the World's Peace

Jubilee held in Boston in June-July, 1872. There, before an audience

of 40,000 people gathered from all parts of the country, they sang

themselves into the hearts of the nation, in spite of a recurrence of

race prejudice. Their singing of Julia Ward Howe's 'Battle Hymn of the

Republic' to the tune of 'John Brown' was, according to Mr. Marsh, 'as

if inspired.' 'When the grand old chorus "Glory, Hallelujah" followed

with a swelling volume of music from the great orchestra, the thunder

of the bands and the roar of artillery, the scene was indescribable.

Twenty thousand people were on their feet. Ladies waved their

handkerchiefs, men threw their hats in the air and the Coliseum rang

with the cheers and shouts of "the Jubilees, the Jubilees, forever!"'

The fame of the 'Jubilees' soon spread abroad, and, responding to

a demand, they appeared in England, Scotland, and Ireland, with

extraordinary success. Their appeal was direct to the hearts of the

people, and an echo of it is preserved to this day in the adoption of

at least one melody as an English Sunday-school hymn. A second tour

took the colored singers into Holland, Switzerland, and Germany as

well, and everywhere they met with the deepest appreciation. Received

by the sovereigns of both Holland and Germany, they were given the use

of the Dutch cathedrals and the Berlin Domkirche for their concerts.

The Berlin _Musikzeitung_ indulged in a long laudatory article

concerning their music and the artistic finish of their singing, and

Franz Abt, the composer, acknowledged their work in the following

remark: 'We could not even take our German peasant and reach in

generations of culture such results in art, conduct, and character as

appear in these freed slaves.'

Other musicians have from time to time called the world's attention to

the value of negro music. Most prominent among them being Dr. Antonin

Dvořák, who, during his stay in America, voiced his admiration of it

and made use of the material in several of his best known compositions,

notably the 'New World Symphony' and the 'American Quartet.' It will

be appropriate to add in conclusion the well-known passage from Dr.

Dvořák's article in the 'Century Magazine' of February, 1895, which has

caused so much comment:

'A while ago I suggested that inspiration for truly national music

might be derived from the negro melodies or Indian chants. I was led to

take the view partly by the fact that the so-called plantation songs

are indeed the most striking and appealing melodies that have been

found on this side of the water, but largely by observation that this

seems to be recognized, though often unconsciously, by most Americans.

All races have their distinctive national songs which they at once

recognize as their own, even if they have never heard them before. It

is a proper question to ask, what songs, then, belong to the American

and appeal more strikingly to him than any others? What melody will

stop him on the street, if he were in a strange land, and make the home

feeling well up within him, no matter how hardened he might be, or how

wretchedly the tunes were played? Their number, to be sure, seems to

be limited. The most potent, as well as the most beautiful among them,

according to my estimation, are certain of the so-called plantation

melodies and slave songs, all of which are distinguished by unusual and

subtle harmonies, the thing which I have found in no other songs but

those of Scotland and Ireland.'

Many American composers have, since these lines were written, acted

upon the suggestion contained in them. We need but mention George

W. Chadwick, Henry Schoenefeld, E. R. Kroeger, Henry F. Gilbert,

Arthur Farwell, and W. H. Humiston among those who have drawn upon

this fertile treasure of thematic material. It is but the beginning,

however. American music is becoming more and more distinctive. Whether

intentionally or spontaneously, our musical literature is bound to

absorb some of the color of so potent an element of national lore.

IV

A great deal cannot be said at this time about the American folk-song

from other than negro sources. Doubtless there is a wealth of song to

be found in the Spanish-American sections along our borders, in the

recesses of the Blue Ridge mountains, whose communities still live by

the guide of primitive instincts and in defiance of law and order; on

the great prairies of the west, where the cowboy has developed a rude

type of chivalry peculiar to himself and with it an idiom reflecting

the dare-devil and man-defying existence which he leads. But little has

been done to collect this scattered store, to commit it to paper, and

to sift the worthy from the dross.

As regards the cowboy songs, the Southwest Society of the

Archæological Institute of America, under the direction of Charles F.

Lummis, has recently done some pioneer work. One of the songs thus

gathered, 'The Lone Prairie,' was harmonized by Mr. Arthur Farwell and

published in the Wa-wan Press series in 1905. In the arranger's opinion

it is probably the first cowboy song to be printed. As such it acquires

a special interest. It is in the minor mode, has the rhythmic snap

peculiar to negro music, though it is in triple rhythm, and acquires a

certain exotic flavor by the constant use of the minor seventh instead

of the leading tone. Its outstanding ethnic character, if it has any,

is, however, Irish. It is not improbable that the cowboy song should

have acquired a certain tone from the music of the Indian, though a

generous admixture of the Celtic idiom is most certainly to be expected

from the racial character of the caste.

In the same number of the Wa-wan Press there are two examples of

Spanish-Californian folk-songs that are extremely interesting. Their

Spanish character is unmistakable, though perhaps the tone is a little

more plaintive than we are wont to expect from their original Southern

habitat. 'The Hours of Grief' and 'The Black Face' are both set in

the minor, and the 2/4 (quasi 6/8) measure, with the characteristic

dotted rhythm, only accentuates the sombreness of the sentiment.

Syncopation is used sparingly, at the end of a phrase only. The subject

of the latter song--the lament of a dusky youth over his unhappy love

for a white beauty, would bespeak negro origin, too, and the general

character of the piece is certainly reminiscent of the Creole dance

songs with their Habañera rhythm.

The Spanish-American songs of further south, of Central America and

Mexico, hardly come within our scope, though American composers would

be quite justified in drawing upon them for material. A collection

recently made by Miss Eleanor Hague, of the American Folklore Society,

and published with accompaniments by Edward Kilenyi, does not reveal

much beyond the standard of salon music, though in their own home the

characteristic environment of Spanish America and the peculiar manner

of their performance may add greatly to their effect. To quote Miss

Hague:

'To sit in the plaza of some quaint Mexican town on a starry

perfumed evening is to realize the significance of highly colored and

impassioned utterance. One's blood is fired by the rhythmic quality of

the music which floats out from the gaily lighted central pavilion,

and the groups of people are a delight to one's eyes: Indians in white

cotton clothes, gaudy _serapes_ and big hats; groups of young girls

with scarfs over their heads walking about; other groups of young men

in the picturesque _charro_ costume, as well as occasional older people

of dignified mien. On a bench an exquisitely pretty girl sits beside

her mother, with her eyes fixed on space, but quite conscious of the

youth in his best embroidered jacket and sombrero, at the further end

of the bench, who gazes shyly at her and then looks away with rapture

in his eyes. If he has not already begun to "play the bear" under her

window he undoubtedly will soon reach that point in his courtship....

In Mexico the guitar is used everywhere for accompanying and also

for solos. As a rule in playing accompaniments the natives content

themselves with simple harmonies in chord form or as arpeggios; but

they have a deep affection for successions of thirds and never seem to

tire of their honied sweetness.'

The French-Canadian, across the other border of the United States,

also has developed a folk-song peculiar to himself in the course of

his romantic existence. It is so closely allied to French folk-song

that we have preferred to treat it in that connection. There remains

only to be mentioned the folk-song of the Kentucky mountaineer which

has had some attention at the hands of Mrs. Jeannette Robinson Murphy,

already quoted above. The mountaineer, like the cowboy, is made up

of various national strains, and his song in consequence is one of

mixed or indefinite character. The rhythmic element again predominates

and, indeed, practically all his songs have their principal use in

connection with the dance. Fast rhythmic tunes in duple time and in

very simple form are sung as accompaniment to all the so-called 'set

dances,' which form the chief entertainment at evening gatherings in

log cabins. Upon these occasions the fiddler assumes the office of

leader for both song and dance--he calls out the tunes, directs the

'figures' and sings the first verse of the song, while his assistant,

by a peculiar tapping of the strings of the instrument, marks the

rhythm. The songs, or ballads, are often of humorous or bantering

flirtatious character, and in them is perpetuated many a peculiarity of

mountaineer life.

At this point we end our necessarily incomplete review of American

folk-song, a subject which future research will do much to place more

nearly within our reach. We shall now discuss briefly the American song

in the folk manner, which may be considered to have grown out of the

folk-song proper.

V

About the year 1830 an American comedian, W. D. Rice (1808-1860),

popularly known as 'Daddy' Rice, stood in a stable in Louisville, Ky.,

and watched an old, deformed and decrepit negro singing a lively tune

to words something like these:

'Come, listen all you gals an' boys,

I'se jes' from Tuckyhoe;

I'm goin' to sing a little song,

My name's Jim Crow

Weel about and turn about and do jes' so;

Eb'ry time I weel about I jump, Jim Crow'--

and a number of other verses recounting the wondrous adventures of

'Jim Crow.' They are not very exciting, to be sure, and their humor

hardly appeals to our jaded minds to-day. The tune, too, is mediocre

enough. But 'Daddy' Rice saw a great opportunity. He learned the song

and sang it, accompanied by all the funny turns and motions of the

old negro and many more. Soon after he was appearing in a theatre in

Pittsburgh, and, meeting a negro porter on the way, took him to the

theatre, borrowed his clothes, donned them, blackened his face with

cork and added a black wig of matted moss. When he appeared on the

stage and sang 'Jim Crow' the audience roared with laughter; but when

he added topical verses of his own and made his antics still funnier,

the house went wild. To add to the mirth, Cuff, the negro, whose

professional services were in demand, came on to the stage in négligé

and frantically expostulated to reclaim his clothes. Of course, the

audience mistook the interruption for part of the 'show' and the signal

for a climax of hilarity.

That was the birth of 'Negro Minstrelsy'--a type of entertainment which

for the greater part of the century was one of the chief delights of

the American public. How much, or little, of it was 'negro' matters

little--the original impulse, at any rate, came from that source, and

the rich opportunities for humor--of an innocent sort--to be gotten out

of lampooning the race, were eagerly exploited. The 'dandy darky,' the

character created by Rice, soon became a stock article of the common

show and he made his way to every stage. The 'cork fraternity,' as

one of its members called the profession, enlarged rapidly and soon

numbered many distinguished representatives. Joe Jefferson himself made

his début in that capacity at the tender age of four, when he emerged

from a bag on 'Daddy' Rice's shoulders. As for 'Daddy' himself, he

added song after song to his répertoire, until there were enough for

several evenings' entertainment. He toured not only America but England

as well and acquired a considerable fortune.

He was, by the way, not the first to 'blacken his face

professionally.' From Charley White's diary[77] we learn that already

in 1799 'Mr. Graupner' did so, 'Pot Pie Herbert' in 1814, Andrew

Jackson Allen in 1815, etc., etc. In that year, indeed, according

to Mr. Krehbiel, a song description of the battle of Plattsburg was

sung in a drama to words supposedly in negro dialect. But organized

negro minstrelsy did not exist until 1843, when Frank Brown, Billy

Whitlock, Dick Pelham, and Dan D. Emmett appeared in the Chatham Square

Theatre, New York, as the Virginia Minstrels and were 'received with

deafening applause.' They were soon followed by band after band and

hence transferred their labors to England to escape competition. When

they returned there were the 'Kentucky Minstrels,' 'Congo Minstrels,'

'Original Virginia Serenaders,' 'African Serenaders,' and many more,

among them the famous Christy's Minstrels, organized in 1844 or 1845.

The droll humor of the negro, his native wit and ludicrous ways were

a rich field for travesty to draw upon. Exaggerated, burlesqued in

showman fashion, it was the joy of audiences still fond of slap-stick

comedy. But the pathetic side of negro existence, told in sentimental

ballad and stories of plantation life, appealed as well. No less a

person than Thackeray was affected by it. According to the famous

author's own testimony, it 'moistened his spectacles in a most

unexpected manner.'

From a mere accessory to the performance the negro minstrel show,

thanks to the ingenuity of Edwin T. Christy, spread itself to usurp

the entire evening. Christy created the form, the stereotype, as it

were, of the minstrel show. He provided for a first part during which

the performers, from four to twenty in number, seated in a single row

with the 'interlocutor' in the centre and 'bones' and 'tambo' at either

end, engaged in repartee and song in negro dialect alternately. During

the second part or 'olio' there were banjo playing, clog dancing, and

other 'specialties.' It might be remarked here that the negro minstrel

developed a style of instrumentalism all his own, consisting largely of

violin and banjo playing, often in trick fashion, between the knees,

over the head, behind the back, etc. The third part of the minstrel

show degenerated into a musical variety entertainment as far removed

from plantation life as possible.

Increased virtuosity notwithstanding, this breaking away from the negro

traditions of the old minstrelsy brought about decay. Gorgeous show and

glitter superseded negro characterization, just as the coon song took

the place of the negro ditty, while only the blackened faces recalled

the original intent of the entertainment. At present the minstrel show

is dead except in amateur circles of the country town.

But it has served its purpose. It has created a stock of songs

which, though not strictly folk-tunes, are so nearly so as to find a

legitimate place in this chapter. Only indirectly were they influenced

by the negro; their composers were the minstrels themselves--the

minstrels of fifty years ago, who constitute as unique a type as has

existed in America. Indeed, they wrote the greater part of the 'popular

music' of their day. Their entertainment called for a distinct and

peculiar type of songs and the supplying of this demand called into

play much genuine talent, though the showman was sadly deficient in

musical grammar. His first models were probably the negro folk-songs

with their stanza and chorus, the former a simple melody, the latter in

improvised harmony. 'The melodies which were more direct progenitors

of the songs which Christy's minstrels and other minstrel companies

carried all over the land were attributed to the Southern negroes;

songs like "Coal Black Rose," "Zip Coon,"[78] and "Ole Virginny Nebber

Tire" have always been accepted as the creation of the blacks,' says

Mr. Krehbiel, 'though I do not know whether or not they really are.'

Most of the names of minstrel composers are now forgotten; B. R. Hanby,

the author of 'Ole Shady'; Eastburn, who wrote 'The Little Brown Jug';

the writers of 'Gentle Annie' and 'Rosa Lee, or Don't be Foolish, Joe,'

live on by their songs alone. But there are two names, perhaps three,

that stand out above the rest and should be remembered as the names of

composers. One of them only was a minstrel, Dan Emmett, and one of his

inspirations has sufficed to make him immortal.[79] Many other popular

and original tunes flowed from his facile pen--'Old Dan Tucker,' 'Early

in the Morning,' etc.--but none has achieved the fame of 'Dixie.' The

second famous writer of minstrel tunes, Stephen Foster, was a composer

who wrote in the minstrel style simply because it was the prevailing

style and because he found a ready market for that sort of product.

But, regardless of the artistic value of that kind of music in general,

Foster must always be counted among the really great American composers.

Stephen Collins Foster was born in Lawrenceburg, now a part of

Pittsburgh, Pa., on July 4, 1826. By instinct and by inheritance he

was a Southerner, for his father had come from Virginia and his mother

from Maryland. Foster was not a professional musician; he acted as

bookkeeper for his brother, a prosperous merchant of Pittsburgh, and

got his inspiration at camp meetings. He taught himself the flageolet,

studied Mozart and Weber assiduously, and acquired a knowledge of

French and German by his own efforts. He dabbled in composition, turned

out a 'Tioga Waltz' for four flutes (!), and in 1842 wrote a song,

'Open thy Lattice, Love,' to words by someone else. He and five friends

constituted themselves a little singing club and for this he wrote many

songs, including 'Oh, Susanna,' 'Old Uncle Ned,' etc., in the style of

the negro folk-song. Though a German musician of Pittsburgh criticized

his work for him, he certainly had no real musical training. By the

advice of friends he devoted several years to the voice and pianoforte,

'but he was afraid that too much study would impair his originality!

Hence, if his harmonies are bald, his accompaniments empirical, and his

part writing unskilled, we need not wonder, but only regret that so

graceful a flower was not planted in richer soil.'[80]

After submitting 'Oh, Susannah' to a minstrel troupe Foster adopted

that style for most of his songs. There are about one hundred and sixty

in all, a small number of them true gems, perhaps unsurpassed in their

way; many, especially the later ones, mere pot-boilers. 'The Old Folks

at Home,' 'My Old Kentucky Home,' 'Massa's in de Cold, Cold Ground,'

'Old Black Joe,' are practically immortal. They are to America what

Silcher's and Weber's songs are to Germany--they are as simple and

beautiful in their expression as they are sincere in their sentiment.

They were born of the impulse of creation and it is to be remarked that

this applies to the text as well, for Foster wrote nearly all of his

own lyrics.

There are besides a number of sentimental ballads--'Nellie Bly,'

'Nancy Tile,' 'Come where My Love Lies Dreaming,' etc.--perhaps

somewhat more artificial, rather trivial in sentiment and certainly

more German than negro in their substance--and some comic pieces, such

as 'The Camptown Races.' His last work was 'The Beautiful Dream,'

written in 1864.

Foster had a gentle, sweet nature, but lacking in self-discipline and

easily led. He was childlike in his sentiments, possessed of a pathetic

affection for his parents and an almost maniacal love for his mother

throughout his life. He married at the age of twenty-eight, but soon

separated from his wife, became shiftless and addicted to drink. Want

drove him to rapid production--he could write a song in the morning,

sell it at noon and spend the proceeds at night. Finally, he found

himself in New York, penniless, without employment and in 1864 came to

a tragic end in a cheap East Side hotel at the age of thirty-three.

His life, with its grim romance, reminds one of the career of that

other American genius, Edgar Allan Poe. Both were aristocrats of

Southern antecedents and made of the very essence of the American

stock. Both spoke in an idiom remarkably attuned to the best of the

American genius. Foster's melodies partake essentially of the folk

manner--they are _volkstümlich_--they might have been folk-songs,

except that they are individually conceived, that their birth is

legitimate, so to speak. In the hearts of the people they rank as

folk-songs, and, their appeal being permanent, interesting conclusions

might be drawn from them as to the qualities of the American national

character.

The other non-minstrel composer whom we desire to mention as a

writer of popular tunes of the minstrel type is Henry Clay Work (b.

Middletown, Conn., 1832, d. Hartford, Conn., 1882). Work also was not

a trained musician in the modern sense, but a musician of earnest

endeavor and sincere expression. Louis C. Elson says 'he sounded the

most characteristic note of all the American composers of the time,

and his songs give almost every note in the gamut of expression, from

sarcasm to triumph, from gaiety to military glory.'

The emancipation movement inspired Work in the direction of

pseudo-negro songs--'Kingdom Comin'' and 'Babylon is Fallen' being

the first of a series of contributions to the music of the Civil War.

Work's most lasting success is, of course, 'Marching Through Georgia,'

which properly comes under the head of patriotic songs.

VI

A type of folk-song that is as often appropriated as it is indigenous

is the patriotic song. It can be called a folk-song only in the sense

that the people sing it, though in a measure it must reflect the

character of the people--in a measure only, for one nation is very

much like the other when fired by patriotism. Almost invariably,

however, such songs are created at times of national stress, when

feelings run high and poetic outbursts come from unexpected quarters.

Such are the circumstances under which nearly all patriotic songs were

created, 'Yankee Doodle,' 'Hail Columbia,' 'The Star Spangled Banner,'

'John Brown,' and 'Marching Through Georgia' included. Some, like

'Dixie,' became patriotic unintentionally, so to speak, and some, like

'America,' were simply applications of foreign tunes to native words.

The earliest American patriotic song, dating from colonial days,

was a 'Liberty Song,' the words of which were written by Mrs. Mercy

Warren, the wife of Mr. James Warren, of Plymouth. The verses were as

amateurish as the music is angular and bombastic. It was advertised in

the 'Boston Chronicle' in 1768. Both the advertisement and the song are

reproduced in Elson's 'History of American Music' (pp. 140 ff.). The

patriotism reflected in the song is that of the Colonial:

'This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health:

And this for Britannia's glory and wealth.

That wealth and that glory immortal may be

If she is but just and we are but free.'

But after 1770 a new version appeared:

'Come swallow your bumpers, ye Tories and roar,

That the sons of fair freedom are hampered once more,

But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame,

Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame.'

After the storm thus foreboded broke loose, the 'Liberty Song' hardly

sufficed to express people's feelings, but there was nothing to

take its place. To be sure, in William Billings' 'Singing Master's

Assistant' there were printed two war songs that became very popular,

especially the one for which Billings himself composed the words and

set them to his favorite tune, 'Chester':

'Let tyrants shake their iron rod,

And slavery clank her galling chains,

We'll fear them not, we'll trust in God;

New England's God forever reigns,' etc., etc.

'The enthusiasm with which Billings sang and taught these songs

communicated itself to the people, even to those who in the prejudice

of their time had strenuously opposed singing in the churches, but no

one could doubt the composer's sincere patriotism.'[81] Then there were

some stanzas, set to an old Scotch tune and sung by the Pennsylvania

regiments during the Revolution, and a convivial soldiers' song, 'The

Volunteer Boys,' that was composed by Henry Archer, an Englishman,

in 1778, and widely sung. But the one revolutionary tune that has

survived was, strange enough, originally a song of derision aimed at

the American troops by the British. That tune is 'Yankee Doodle.'

'Yankee,' the term still applied to Americans in general by Europeans,

but by Americans to New Englanders in particular, has a doubtful

etymology. There is an Indian word 'yankoos,' which means invincible,

and a Cherokee word, 'eankke,' signifying coward or slave; 'kanokie,'

or silent man, was the name applied to Connecticut settlers by the

natives--according to 'Diedrich Knickerbocker'--and, finally, there is

'yengeese,' an Indian corruption of 'English'--all possible roots of

the word. There are other plausible derivations, including one from

the Norwegian and others from the Scotch. The word 'doodle,' too,

has a Scotch meaning--'dudeln,' to play music. For the origin of the

combination 'Yankee Doodle,' there are, as Mr. Sonneck puts it, 'whole

genealogies of theories.' Probably the words were not used before 1700.

The first known mention of the song so entitled is in a letter of April

26, 1776, in which it is called 'a song composed in derision of New

Englanders, scornfully called Yankees.'

Many theories there are also regarding the origin of the tune. Most

of them, including the well-known story of a British officer having

composed it during the Revolution, are impossible, while the claim of

Dr. Richard Schuchburgh[82] as its composer (at Albany in 1755) is

very doubtful. It is said to have been played by a fife-major of the

Grenadier Guards in 1750 as a march, and a tune at least similar to it

is supposed to have been familiar to the English peasantry previous

to the time of Charles I. Whatever its origin, it was played by the

Americans at Burgoyne's surrender (Saratoga, 1777) and again at the

surrender of Yorktown, at the instance of Lafayette, who probably

intended it as a taunt. It was recognized officially as an American

national song at the signing of the treaty of Ghent (1814), when the

Flemish burghers serenaded the American ambassadors with the tune,

having learned it from Henry Clay's servant!

'America,' sung to the same tune as 'God Save the King'--a tune that

has been variously appropriated by other nations--had its American

origin in the Park Street Church, Boston, the words being written for

a children's celebration held on July 4, 1832, by the Rev. Samuel F.

Smith, a young theological student. Before this, however, the tune

had done service at different times for 'God Save America,' 'God Save

George Washington,' and what not. The origin of the melody, like that

of many other good tunes, is shrouded in mystery. It is generally

attributed to Dr. John Bull (b. 1563), who is supposed to have written

it for a banquet given to James I in 1607. But Mr. Sonneck remarks that

'with such arguments [as Mr. Elson's comparisons] the main theme of the

last movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony would become very close to

being inspired by 'Yankee Doodle.'[83] After citing many theories Mr.

Elson remarks that 'there seems, however, scarcely a doubt that Henry

Carey, the composer of "Sally in Our Alley," the unfortunate genius

who commited suicide after a blameless life of eighty years, with a

single half-penny in his pocket [in the year 1740], was the author and

composer of the great anthem.'

Joseph Hopkinson (1770-1842), in a letter of August 24, 1840, throws

light on the origin of 'Hail Columbia,' another popular American

patriotic song. It was, according to him, originally a political song

rather than a national one. The tune is that of the old 'President's

March,' a leading work in the early American répertoire, composed, some

say, by Johannes Roth, a German musician of Philadelphia, popularly

known as 'Old Roth,' in 1689, but more probably by a certain Pheil, to

whom it is attributed in a copy of the year 1793, in the possession of

the Library of Congress.[84] In 1798 Hopkinson wrote new words for it,

which were a glorification of President Adams and Federalism. Sung by

Hopkinson's friend, Gilbert Fox, an actor, at a benefit performance,

it roused great enthusiasm and the audience joined in the chorus. But

the 'Aurora' of April 27,1798, called it 'a most ridiculous bombast and

the vilest adulation of the Anglo-monarchical party.' Since its use as

a Federal song 'Hail Columbia' has undergone a considerable process of

polishing, but its erstwhile popularity has not by any means worn off.

'The Star Spangled Banner,' because of its exclusive use and its

inherent musical strength universally recognized as _the_ 'National

Anthem' of America, is, like its brothers, an imported article. The

tune is that of an old English drinking song, 'To Anacreon in Heaven,'

written by the president of the Anacreontic Society in London about

1770-75. The music is, in all likelihood, by John Stafford Smith

(1750-1836), also a member of the society and author of the _Musica

Antiqua_ (1832). Its American use dates from 1798, when Robert Treat

Paine, whose real name was Thomas Paine, but who objected to being

confused with the 'atheist' Paine, adopted it to words of his own,

under the title of 'Adams and Liberty, the Boston Patriotic Song.'

Other versions, such as 'Jefferson and Liberty,' appeared for various

occasions, one even to celebrate the Russian victory over Napoleon! But

the real version, the one we know to-day, was born during the War of

1812 under conditions which fire the patriot's imagination.

The story is well known. Francis Scott Key, the author of the words,

was sent to the British Fleet in Chesapeake Bay as the envoy of

President Madison to request the release of a non-combatant citizen

held as prisoner. As the bombardment of Fort Henry was to take place

that day, the British commander retained Key till there was no fear of

divulging the British plans. On the morning of Sept 14th, after a night

of bombardment, the anxious envoy looked toward the fort and there saw

the flag of his country still flying proudly over the battlements.

Inspired by the sight, he wrote the first stanza on the back of an old

letter:

'O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

The rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof, through the night, that our flag was still there.

O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?'

On the return to Baltimore he wrote the remaining stanzas and the

poem appeared in the Baltimore 'American' of September 21, 1814, as a

'broadside.' The stirring measures of the song have never lost their

hold on the American people, and the piece has taken its place among

the great national anthems of the world.

The next national song, in chronological order, is the popular

'Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean' ('The Red, White and Blue'). Its

history is not so romantic. Thomas à Becket, an English actor in 1843,

playing at that time in Philadelphia, wrote both the verses and the

music, after rejecting a set of verses written by David T. Shaw, a

singer then appearing at the 'Museum,' also in Philadelphia. It first

appeared, however, as the work of Shaw--until à Becket convinced the

publisher of his authorship--after which it was so published, with the

inscription 'Sung by D. T. Shaw.' When the author of the song visited

England in 1847 he found the song already 'naturalized' as 'Britannia,

the Pride of the Ocean,' and it has since become a favorite of the

British army and navy.

The national song répertoire received no further notable accessions

till the Civil War, a period terrible and wonderful, that called forth

expressions of exalted feeling on both sides of the struggle, North and

South. 'The Star Spangled Banner' was at first claimed by both sides.

But all attempts to adapt the song by the addition of new verses seem

to have failed. The South found an early substitute in such songs as

'Maryland, My Maryland,' which James Ryder Randall wrote to suit the

melody of the old German folk-tune _O Tannenbaum_. The occasion for

this effusion was the attack on the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment while

marching through Baltimore.

Of all the other Southern war songs only one has survived, and that

was of Northern origin. 'Dixie's Land' was, we have already seen,

originally a 'walk-around' dance, written for Bryant's Minstrels by one

of their number, Dan Emmett. There has been so much discussion of the

circumstances of its birth that it may be well to quote an eye-witness,

so to speak, namely, Charley White, the minstrel, whose diary has

already furnished us with some facts:

'One Saturday night in 1859, when Dan Emmett was a member of Bryant's

Minstrels at Mechanics' Hall, New York, Dan [Bryant] said to Emmett:

"Can't you get us up a walk-around dance? I want something new and

lively for next Monday night." At that date, and for a long time

after, minstrel shows used to finish up the evening performance with a

walk-around dance, in which the whole company would participate. The

demand for this especial material was constant, and Dan Emmett was the

principal composer of all, especially for the Bryant Minstrels. Emmett,

of course, went to work, and, as he had done so much in that line of

composition, he was not long in finding something suitable. At last he

hit upon the first two bars, and any composer can tell you how good a

start that is in the manufacture of a melody. The next day, Sunday,

he had the words commencing "I wish I was in Dixie." This colloquial

expression is not, as most people suppose, a Southern phrase, but first

appeared among the circus men in the North. In early fall, when nipping

frost would overtake the tented wanderers, the boys would think of

the genial warmth of the section they were heading for and the common

expression would be, "Well, I wish I was in Dixie." This gave the title

or catch line; the rest of the song was original. On Monday morning the

song was rehearsed and highly recommended, and at night, as usual, the

house was crowded and many of the auditors went home singing "Dixie."

The song soon became the rage and several other minstrel organizations

... applied to Emmett for copy and privilege of using it.... Not only

was Emmett robbed of the copyright, but the authorship of it was

disputed as well.'

In secession days the song was branded in the North as a Rebel song,

and a Maine editor attacked Emmett as a Secessionist. It next bobbed

up in New Orleans in 1861 as a 'Zouave march' in 'Pocahontas,'

appropriated for the occasion by Carlo Patti, the brother of the prima

donna, who acted as conductor. When the war broke out, the Washington

Artillery had it arranged as a quick-step and soon 'saloons, parlors,

and the streets rang with the Dixie air.' The contagious nature of

the tune easily accounts for its rapid spread and ultimate universal

popularity. It is undoubtedly the most original of all American

national songs.

Turning to the North, the first tune we meet is the famous 'John

Brown's Body,' one of the most stirring marching songs ever written,

a favorite among soldiers the world over. Its origin is humble--a

camp-meeting song among many, sung by the negroes in the South years

before the War, to religious words. It may be, indeed, a negro

folk-song, though its authorship is claimed for William Steffe, a

composer of Sunday-school music. It was started on its patriotic career

by the 'Tigers,' a battalion in the 12th Massachusetts Regiment. The

words 'Say, brothers, will you meet us?' were taken from the lips of

recruits by Captain Hallgreen, the author of the poem. John Brown,

the hero of the song, was not the John Brown of Harper's Ferry, but a

good-natured Scotchman, who was the subject of a current joke among the

men. The words were prophetic, for John Brown of the 'Tigers' lost his

life during a retreat of the Union forces. All attempts of the superior

officers to substitute a name with more dignity and fame miscarried,

and John Brown was made immortal by his fellows. The 'Twelfth' sang the

song from city to city and the swing of it set people wild. Later, when

heard in camp, the tune appealed so strongly to James Freeman Clarke,

that he induced Julia Ward Howe to dignify it with more serious words.

'The Battle Hymn of the Republic' was the result.

A composer whose Civil War songs achieved almost the rank of national

songs is George F. Root (1820-1895). His 'Battle Cry of Freedom,'

'Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching,' and 'Just Before the

Battle, Mother' became favorites during the war and have enjoyed an

afterglow of popularity since. Dr. Root was an exponent of the Lowell

Mason system,[85] and was a convention leader who had followed Mason

in his method of diffusing music among the masses. He was a pupil of

George J. Webb and also pursued the study of his art in Paris.

As a final word we must recall Henry Clay Work's 'Marching through

Georgia,' which is perhaps the best of the tunes written expressly as

war songs. It is a stirring melody with all the qualities of a national

anthem, though unfortunately its partisan inspiration and associations

will not allow it to be such. There is nothing to record in the way of

patriotic songs since the stormy days of the Civil War. Peaceful times

have turned composers' attention elsewhere, and progress in the higher

forms of art music has gone on apace. Accordingly, it now becomes our

duty to record the achievements of American musicians in the field of

conscious creative endeavor.

C. S.

FOOTNOTES:

[60] 'Nationalism in Music,' in 'The International,' Dec., 1913.

[61] H. E. Krehbiel, 'Afro-American Folksongs,' 1914.

[62] H. E. Krehbiel, _op. cit._

[63] Richard Wallaschek: 'Primitive Music,' London, 1893.

[64] 'Slave Songs of the United States,' New York, 1867.

[65] 'Ten Years in South Africa.'

[66] H. E. Krehbiel, _op. cit._

[67] In the collection entitled 'Jubilee and Plantation Songs' (Oliver

Ditson, 1887) the melody only is given. Mr. Krehbiel gives two

harmonizations, but it is a question whether they are satisfactory

reproductions of the 'native' spirit of the song. Mr. Henry F. Gilbert

has used it in his 'Negro Rhapsody' with most telling effect.

[68] For an example of a pentatonic melody we refer the reader to

'Nobody Knows de Trouble I've Seen'; for the major seventh in a minor

key (the use of the augmented second) to the 'Baptizing Hymn' ('Freely

Go') and 'Father Abraham' ('Tell It'). This peculiar oriental effect

may be, as Mr. Krehbiel thinks, due to a feeling that was natural to

the Moors, the Mohammedan negroes who made up a small part of the

American colored stock. A specimen of a song in the whole-tone scale

is 'O Rock Me, Julie,' in which the refrain is each time a fifth lower

than the verse.

[69] 'Slave Songs in the United States.'

[70] James Augustus Grant in 'A Walk Across Africa' says that his

people when cleaning rice were always followed by singers who

accompanied the workers with clapping of hands and stamping of feet.

'Whenever companies of negroes were working together in the cotton

fields and tobacco factories, on the levees and steamboats or sugar

plantations and chiefly in the fervor of religious gatherings, these

melodies sprang into life.' (Booker T. Washington, in preface to

Coleridge-Taylor's 'Twenty-four Negro Melodies.')

[71] Remnants of voodooism have survived in Louisiana to our day.

The language of the creole negro is a French _patois_. In his songs

this _patois_ is sometimes intermingled with strange words of African

origin. Some still have an African refrain, though the negroes no

longer understand its meaning. Lafcadio Hearn, upon asking the meaning

of the words of one of these songs of a negro woman in Louisiana,

received the answer: _Mais c'est Voudoo, ça; je n'en sais rien!_ With

the help of philological references Hearn actually traced the words to

Africa and made sense out of them in connection with their context.

[72] 'Century Magazine,' Aug., 1899.

[73] Mr. Allen says that the shout is not found in North Carolina and

Virginia, though Mr. Krehbiel knows of an example from Kentucky. Mr.

Allen says, however, that the term 'shouting' is used in Virginia in

reference to a peculiar motion of the body wholly unlike the Carolina

shouting.

[74] _La Musique ches les peuples indigènes de l'Amérique du Nord._

[75] _Musik, Tanz und Dichtung bei den Kreolen Amerikas._

[76] George W. Cable in 'Century Magazine.'

[77] White had a long and successful career as a minstrel and manager.

Extracts from his diary were printed in the New York _Sun_, April 20,

1902, shortly after his death.

[78] 'Zip Coon,' or 'Turkey in the Straw,' one of the liveliest of

American popular tunes, has also been attributed to George Washington

Dixon, who appeared on the stage as early as 1830 and sang to the

accompaniment of a banjo.

[79] 'Dixie' was a minstrel 'walk-around,' but it has become a

patriotic song and we shall speak of it as such later on.

[80] César Saerchinger: 'Stephen Foster and the American Folksong'

(_The International_, Feb., 1914).

[81] 'American History and Encyclopedia of Music.'

[82] Dr. Schuchburgh was a surgeon in the British army. He probably

wrote the satirical words of the song and adapted them to a familiar

tune.

[83] Oscar G. Sonneck: 'Reports on "Hail Columbia," "Yankee Doodle,"

etc.,' Library of Congress.

[84] _Cf._ Sonneck, _op. cit._, pp. 68-69.

[85] _Cf._ Chapter X, pp. 240 ff.