In order to understand as well as to feel music, we must reduce
it to its primary elements, and these are to be found in folk
song, or, to go further back, in its predecessor, the chant
of the savages.
Folk music may be likened to a twig which has fallen into a
salt mine, to borrow an expression from Taine; every year adds
fresh jewels to the crystals that form on it until at last the
only resemblance to the original is in the general contour. We
know that the nucleus of melody lies in one note, just as the
origin of language is to be sought for in the word. Therefore
folk music proper must be separated from what may be called
barbaric music, the most primitive type of the latter being
the "one-note" strain from which spring the melodies of the
people. This one-note form passes through many rhythmical
changes before song becomes developed to the extent of adding
several notes to its means of expression. The next development
of savage chanting (which is the precursor of folk song) may
be traced back to its two elements, one of which was a mere
savage howl, and the other, that raising of the voice under
stress of strong emotion which still constitutes one of our
principal means of expression.
Thus, in this barbaric music we invariably find three
principles: 1, rhythm; 2, the howl or descending scale of
undefined intervals; and 3, the emotional raising of the
voice. The rhythm, which characterizes the most primitive
form of song or chant, consists of the incessant repetition
of a very small group of rhythmic sounds. This incessant
recurrence of one idea is characteristic of primitive, weak,
or insane natures. The second principle, which invariably
includes the first (pointing to a slightly more advanced state
of development), is met with in many folk songs of even modern
times. The third principle is one which indicates the transition
stage from primitive or barbaric music to folk music.
To the primitive savage mind, the smallest rhythmic phrase is a
wonderful invention, therefore it is repeated incessantly. Add
to that a certain joy in mere sound, and we have the howl,
which certainly follows the sequence of nature, for a thunder
clap, or the phenomenon of echo, is its prototype, being a loud
explosion followed by a more or less regular sequence of minor
reverberations. When the accent of passion is added to these
two principles--will and nature--we have laid the aesthetic
foundation for all that we call music.[12] The example of a
loud tone with gradually ascending inflections has only been
found in the most perverted types of humanity; for instance, an
English writer quaintly alludes to the songs of the Polynesian
cannibals as consisting of "gruesomely suggestive passages
of rising quarter-tones sung gloatingly before their living
captives who are soon to be devoured."
Now traces of these three elements are to be found in every
folk song known, and we may even trace their influence in
modern music, the lowest or most primitive being, as I have
said, the "one-note" type, the next what I have called the
"howl" type, the third the highest or "emotional" type.
Specimens of the first type, chants such as these [Figure 08],
are to be heard in every part of the globe, the rhythmic figure
being necessarily short and repeated incessantly.
The next step was a tremendous advance, and we find its
influence permeating all music. The most primitive specimens of
this type we find among the Jute Indians [Figure 09], a mixture
of one and two. The same is to be found in Australia, slightly
modified: [Figure 10] The Caribs have the same song
[G: g'' \ Chromatic g']. We find it again in Hungary, although
in a still more modified form, thus:
[Figure 11]
And last of all we meet with it in its primitive state in the
folk song used by Bizet in "Carmen." We can even see traces of
it in the quasi-folk song of the present century:
[Figure 12] etc.
The third element of folk song shows again a great advance,
for instead of the mere howl of pleasure or pain, we have a
more or less exactly graded expression of feeling. In speaking
of impassioned speech I explained the relative values of the
inflections of the voice, how the upward skip of the fourth,
fifth, and octave indicates the intensity of the emotion
causing the cry. When this element is brought into music, it
gives a vitality not before possessed, for by this it becomes
speech. When in such music this inflection rhymes with the
words, that is to say, when the speech finds its emotional
reflection in the music, we have reached the highest development
of folk song. In its best state, this is immeasurably superior
to much of our "made" music, only too often false in rhythm,
feeling, and declamation.
Among the different nations, these three characteristics often
become obscured by national idiosyncracies. Much of the Chinese
music, the "Hymn to the Ancestors," for instance, seemingly
covers a number of notes, whereas, in fact, it belongs to the
one-note type. We find that their melodies almost invariably
return to the same note, the intervening sounds being more
or less merely variations above and below the pitch of the
principal sound. For example:
[Figure 13]
Hungarian folk music has been much distorted by the oriental
element, as represented by the _zingari_ or gypsies.
The Hungarian type of folk music is one of the highest, and
is extremely severe in its contours, as shown in the following:
[Figure 14]
The gypsy element as copied by Liszt has obscured the folk
melodies by innumerable arabesques and ornaments of all sorts,
often covering even a "one-note" type of melody until it seems
like a complicated design.
This elaboration of detail and the addition of passing and
ornamental notes to every melody is distinctly an oriental
trait, which finds vent not only in music but also in
architecture, designing, carving, etc. It is considered by many
an element of weakness, seeking to cover a poverty of thought
by rich vestments. And yet, to my mind, nothing can be more
misleading. In spite of Sir Hubert Parry and other writers,
I cannot think that the Moors in Spain, for instance, covered
poverty of thought beneath superficial ingenuity of design. The
Alhambra outdoes in "passage work," in virtuoso arabesques,
all that an army of Liszts could do in piano literature;
and yet the Arabs were the saviours of science, and promoted
the greatest learning and depth of thought known in Europe in
their time. As for Liszt, there is such an astounding wealth
of poetry and deep feeling beneath the somewhat "flashy,"
bombastic trick of speech he inherited, that the true lover
of music can no more allow his feelings to be led astray by
such externals than one would judge a man's mind by the cut
of his coat or the hat he wears.
Thus we see the essence of folk song is comprised in the three
elements mentioned, and its aesthetic value may be determined
by the manner in which these elements are combined and their
relative preponderance.
One point must be very distinctly understood, namely, that what
we call harmonization of a melody cannot be admitted as forming
any part of folk song. Folk melodies are, without exception,
homophonous. This being the case, perhaps my statement that the
vital principle of folk music in its best state has nothing in
common with nationalism (considered in the usual sense of the
word), will be better understood. And this will be the proof
that nationalism, so-called, is merely an extraneous thing
that has no part in pure art. For if we take any melody, even
of the most pronounced national type, and merely eliminate the
characteristic turns, affectations, or mannerisms, the theme
becomes simply music, and retains no touch of nationality. We
may even go further; for if we retain the characteristic
mannerisms of dress, we may harmonize a folk song in such a
manner that it will belie its origin; and by means of this
powerful factor (an essentially modern invention) we may even
transform a Scotch song, with all its "snap" and character,
into a Chinese song, or give it an Arabian flavour. This,
to be sure, is possible only to a limited degree; enough,
however, to prove to us the power of harmony; and harmony,
as I have said, has no part in folk song.
To define the _role_ of harmony in music is no easy matter.
Just as speech has its shadow languages, gesture and expression;
just as man is a duality of idealism and materialism; just as
music itself is a union of the emotional and the intellectual,
so harmony is the shadow language of melody; and just as in
speech this shadow language overwhelms the spoken word, so
in music harmony controls the melody. For example: Imagine
the words "I will kill you" being said in a jesting tone of
voice and with a pleasant expression of the face; the import
of the words would be lost in their expression; the mere words
would mean nothing to us in comparison with the expression
that accompanied them.
Take away the harmonic structure upon which Wagner built his
operas and it would be difficult to form a conception of the
marvellous potency of his music. Melody, therefore, may be
classed as the gift of folk song to music; and harmony is its
shadow language. When these two powers, melody and harmony,
supplement each other, when one completes the thought of the
other, then, provided the thought be a noble one, the effect
will be overwhelmingly convincing, and we have great music. The
contrary results when one contradicts the other, and that
is only too often the case; for we hear the mildest waltzes
dressed up in tragic and dramatic chords, which, like Bottom,
"roar as gently as any sucking dove."
In discussing the origin of speech, mention was made of those
shadow languages which accompany all our spoken words, namely,
the languages of expression and gesture. These were surely
the very first auxiliaries of uttered speech, and in the same
way we find that they constitute the first sign of advance
in primitive melody. Savages utter the same thought over and
over again, evidently groping after that semblance of Nirvana
(or perhaps it may be better described as "hypnotic exaltation")
which the incessant repetition of that one thought, accompanied
by its vibrating shadow, sound, would naturally occasion.
It was also stated that the relative antiquity or primitivity
of a melody is invariably to be discovered by its degree
of relationship to the original type, one note, one rhythm,
the emotional, the savage howl, or, in other words, the high
note followed by a gradual descent. To confirm this theory of
the origin of folk song, we need only look at the aboriginal
chants of widely separated peoples to find that the oldest
songs all resemble one another, despite the fact that they
originated in widely separated localities.
Now the difference between this primitive music and that
which we call folk song is that the latter is characterized
by a feeling for design, in the broadest sense of the word,
entirely lacking in the former. For we find that although
folk song is composed of the same material as savage music,
the material is arranged coherently into sentences instead of
remaining the mere exclamation of passion or a nerve exciting
reiteration of unchanging rhythms and vibrations, as is the
case in the music of the savage.
Before proceeding further, I wish to draw the line which
separates savage from folk music very plainly.
We know that the first stage in savage music is that of one
note. Gradually a tone above the original is added on account
of the savage being unable to intone correctly; through
stress of emotion the fifth and octave come into the chant;
the sixth, being the note above the fifth, is added later,
as is the third, the note above the second. Thus is formed
the pentatonic scale as it is found all over the world, and
it is clear, therefore, that the development of the scale is
due to emotional influences.
The development of rhythm may be traced to the words sung
or declaimed, and the development of design or form to the
dance. In the following, from Brazil, we find a savage chant
in almost its primitive state:
[Figure 15] etc.
The next example, also from Brazil, is somewhat better, but
still formless and unemotional.
[Figure 16] etc.
Let this be danced to, however, and the change is very marked,
for immediately form, regularity, and design are noticeable:
[Figure 17] etc.
On the other hand, the emotional element marks another very
decided change, namely, by placing more sounds at the command
of the singer, and also by introducing words, which necessarily
invest the song with the rhythm of language.
Thus the emotional and declamatory elements heighten the
powers of expression by the greater range given to the voice,
and add the poignancy and rhythm of speech to song. On the
other hand, the dance gives regularity to the rhythmic and
emotional sequences.
In the following examples we can see more clearly the elements
of folk song as they exist in savage music: