1. Ancient And Oriental Music Egon Wellesz

GOVERNMENT OF INDIA

DEPARTMENT OF ARCHAEOLOGY

CENTRAL ARCHAEOLOGICAL

LIBRARY

Call No. 780.9 N.O.H.M.

D.G.A. 79.

12.50-4

Govt. of India

Archaeological

Survey

of

India

Central

Archaeological

Library

NEW

DELHI

Acc. No.

65.401

NEW

OXFORD

HISTORY

OF

MUSIC

VOLUME

I

EDITORIAL BOARD

J. A. WESTRUP (Chairman)

GERALD ABRAHAM (Secretary)

EDWARD J. DENT

DOM ANSELM HUGHES

EGON WELLESZ

THE VOLUMES OF THE

NEW OXFORD HISTORY OF MUSIC

I. Ancient and Oriental Music

II. Early Medieval Music up to 1300

III. Ars Nova and the Renaissance (c. 1300–1540)

IV. The Age of Humanism (1540–1630)

V. Opera and Church Music (1630–1750)

VI. The Growth of Instrumental Music (1630–1750)

VII. The Symphonic Outlook (1745–1790)

VIII. The Age of Beethoven (1790–1830)

IX. Romanticism (1830–1890)

X. Modern Music (1890–1950)

XI. Chronological Tables and General Index

K KRISHNA PLAYING A FLUTE

Relief from a temple at Belūr (Deccan). Hoysala Dynasty, 12th century

ANCIENT AND

ORIENTAL MUSIC

EDITED BY

EGON WELLESZ

16.79

780.9

N.O.H.M.

LONDON

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

NEW YORK TORONTO

1957

Oxford University Press, Amen House, London E.C.4

GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE WELLINGTON

BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS KARACHI

CAPE TOWN IBADAN NAIROBI ACCRA SINGAPORE

CENTRAL ARCHAEOLOGICAL

LIBRARY, NEW DELHI.

Acc. No. 16178.

Date 19/1/59.

Call No 780.9/N.o.H.M.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

The present work is designed to replace the Oxford History of Music, first published in six volumes under the general editorship of Sir Henry Hadow between 1901 and 1905. Five authors contributed to that ambitious publication—the first of its kind to appear in English. The first two volumes, dealing with the Middle Ages and the sixteenth century, were the work of H. E. Wooldridge. In the third Sir Hubert Parry examined the music of the seventeenth century. The fourth, by J. A. Fuller Maitland, was devoted to the age of Bach and Handel; the fifth, by Hadow himself, to the period bounded by C. P. E. Bach and Schubert. In the final volume Edward Dannreuther discussed the Romantic period, with which, in the editor's words, it was ‘thought advisable to stop’. The importance of the work—particularly of the first two volumes—was widely recognized, and it became an indispensable part of a musician's library. The scheme was further extended in the new edition issued under the editorship of Sir Percy Buck between 1929 and 1938. An introductory volume, the work of several hands, was designed to supplement the story of music in the ancient world and the Middle Ages. New material, including two complete chapters, was added to volumes i and ii, while the third volume was reissued with minor corrections and a number of supplementary notes by Edward J. Dent. The history was also brought nearer to the twentieth century by the addition of a seventh volume, by H. C. Colles, entitled Symphony and Drama, 1850–1900.

Revision of an historical work is always difficult. If it is to be fully effective, it may well involve changes so comprehensive that very little of the original remains. Such radical revision was not the purpose of the second edition of the Oxford History of Music. To have attempted it in a third edition would have been impossible. During the first half of the present century an enormous amount of detailed work has been done on every period covered by the original volumes. New materials have been discovered, new relationships revealed, new interpretations made possible. Perhaps the most valuable achievement has been the publication in reliable modern editions of a mass of music which was previously available only in manuscript or in rare printed copies. These developments have immeasurably increased the historian's opportunities, but they have also added heavily to his responsibilities. To attempt a detailed survey of the whole history of

vi

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

music is no longer within the power of a single writer. It may even

be doubted whether the burden can be adequately shouldered by a

team of five.

The New Oxford History of Music is therefore not a revision of

the older work, nor is it the product of a small group of writers. It

has been planned as an entirely new survey of music from the earliest

times down to comparatively recent years, including not only the

achievements of the Western world but also the contributions made

by eastern civilizations and primitive societies. The examination of

this immense field is the work of a large number of contributors,

English and foreign. The attempt has been made to achieve uniform-

ity without any loss of individuality. If this attempt has been success-

ful, the result is due largely to the patience and co-operation shown by

the contributors themselves. Overlapping has to some extent been

avoided by the use of frequent cross-references; but we have not

thought it proper to prevent different authors from expressing dif-

ferent views about the same subject, where it could legitimately be

regarded as falling into more than one category.

The scope of the work is sufficiently indicated by the titles of the

several volumes. Our object throughout has been to present music

not as an isolated phenomenon or the work of a few outstanding

composers, but as an art developing in constant association with

every form of human culture and activity. The biographies of indivi-

duals are therefore merely incidental to the main plan of the history,

and those who want detailed information of this kind must seek it

elsewhere. No hard and fast system of division into chapters has been

attempted. The treatment is sometimes by forms, sometimes by

periods, sometimes also by countries, according to the importance

which one element or another may assume. The division into volumes

has to some extent been determined by practical considerations; but

pains have been taken to ensure that the breaks occur at points which

are logically and historically justifiable. The result may be that the

work of a single composer who lived to a ripe age is divided be-

tween two volumes. The later operas of Monteverdi, for example,

belong to the history of Venetian opera and hence find their natural

place in volume v, not with the discussion of his earlier operas to be

found in volume iv. On the other hand, we have not insisted on a

rigid chronological division where the result would be illogical or

confusing. If a subject finds its natural conclusion some ten years

after the date assigned for the end of a period, it is obviously prefer-

able to complete it within the limits of one volume rather than to

allow it to overflow into a second. An exception to the general

scheme of continuous chronology is to be found in volumes v and

vi, which deal with different aspects of the same period and so are

complementary to each other.

The history as a whole is intended to be useful to the professed

student of music, for whom the documentation of sources and the

bibliographies are particularly designed. But the growing interest in

the music of all periods shown by music-lovers in general has encour-

aged us to bear their interests also in mind. It is inevitable that a

work of this kind should employ a large number of technical terms

and deal with highly specialized matters. We have, however, tried to

ensure that the technical terms are intelligible to the ordinary reader

and that what is specialized is not necessarily wrapped in obscurity.

Finally, since music must be heard to be fully appreciated, we have

given references throughout to the records issued by His Master's

Voice (R. C. A. Victor) under the general title The History of Music

in Sound. These records are collected in a series of albums which

correspond to the volumes of the present work, and have been

designed to be used with it.

J. A. WESTRUP

GERALD ABRAHAM

EDWARD J. DENT

ANSELM HUGHES

EGON WELLESZ

CONTENTS

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

v

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

xvii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

xxiii

I. PRIMITIVE MUSIC. By MARIUS SCHNEIDER, Professor of Comparative Musicology, University of Cologne

Comparative Musicology

1

Melody and Mankind

2

The Origin of Music

5

Totemistic Music

8

Culture and Race

12

The Formation of Scales

14

Structure of the Melodic Ambit

17

Origin of Polyphony

20

Variation and Types of Melody

23

Historical Development

28

Music and Speech

31

Instrumental 'Language'

32

The Musical Instruments

33

Repertory

38

The Importance of the Musician

40

Spiritual Culture

41

Music Examples

61

II. THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA. 1. CHINA By LAURENCE PICKEN, Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge

Introduction

83

Prehistory and Ethnology of the Far East

84

The Place of Music in Chinese Civilization

86

Chinese Musical Instruments

88

History of Theory and Notation

93

History of the Music

101

Chinese Instrumental Heterophony

124

The Structure of Chinese Instrumental Music

125

A Tsyr Melody

125

Opera

126

Folk-Song

130

Buddhist Music

133

x

CONTENTS

III. THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA. 2. OTHER COUNTRIES. By LAURENCE PICKEN

Mongolia

135

Shinjiang (Chinese Turkestan)

136

Tibet

137

Korea

142

Japan

144

Miau

150

Luoluo and Minjia

154

Nagas

155

Annam

156

Cambodia

159

Siam (Thailand)

162

Burma

164

Java, Sumatra, and Nias

165

Bali

170

Other Islands of the Indian Archipelago

176

Cultural Interrelations

180

Glossary of Chinese Characters

190

IV. THE MUSIC OF INDIA. By ARNOLD BAKE, Reader in Sanskrit, University of London

Introduction

195

Cultural and Philosophical Importance

196

Vedic Music

199

The Classical System

204

Classical Instruments

220

Modern Developments

225

V. THE MUSIC OF ANCIENT MESOPOTAMIA. By HENRY GEORGE FARMER

Introduction

228

The Primitive Element in Music

229

The Music of the Temples

231

Secular Music

236

Instruments of Music

239

The Theory and Practice of Music

246

Notation

249

The Heritage

250

VI. THE MUSIC OF ANCIENT EGYPT. By HENRY GEORGE FARMER

Introduction

255

Primitive Musical Survivals

256

Religious Music

258

CONTENTS

xi

Secular Music

262

Instruments of Music

266

The Practice and Theory of Music

274

The Legacy

279

VII. MUSIC IN THE BIBLE. By carl h. kraeling, Director

of the Oriental Institute and Professor of Hellenistic Oriental

Archaeology, University of Chicago, and lucetta mowry,

Professor of Biblical History, Wellesley College

Limitations of Biblical Information

283

The Nomadic Period

284

Early Palestinian Period

286

Monarchic Period

290

Music in the Temple

291

The Prophets and Music

293

Secular Music

294

Lyrical Metres

294

Instruments

295

After the Captivity

296

Graeco-Roman Period

300

Services of the Synagogue

301

Music in the New Testament

303

The Church outside Palestine

307

Early Christian Antiphony

311

Gnostic Hymns

311

VIII. THE MUSIC OF POST-BIBLICAL JUDAISM. By eric

werner, Professor of Jewish Music, Jewish Institute of Religion,

New York

Introduction

313

Continuity of Jewish Tradition

314

Cantillation of Scripture

316

Psalm Tones

318

Autonomous Melody

318

The Modes of Synagogue Music

320

The Influence of Poetry on the Development of Synagogue Music

324

The Music of Italian Jewry

326

The Music of Central European Jewry

329

The Music of East European Jewry

331

Disintegration of Synagogue Music before the Era of Emancipation

332

IX. ANCIENT GREEK MUSIC. By isobel henderson, Tutor in

Ancient History, Fellow of Somerville College, Oxford

The Musical Tradition in Antiquity

336

Traditions of Harmonic Science

340

Grammar and Syntax

344

xii

CONTENTS

The Tonoi 348

The Notations 358

The Extant Musical Documents 363

The History of Greek Music

(i) Music in Homer's Greece 376

(ii) The Music of the Early Lyrics 378

(iii) Aeolian Music 382

(iv) The Harmoniae of Plato's Republic 384

(v) The 'Enharmonic' Music 387

(vi) Aristophanes and Athens 390

(vii) Plato and the Revolution 395

(viii) Music after the Revolution 397

X. ROMAN MUSIC. By the Reverend J. E. SCOTT

Introduction 404

Instruments 406

Social Status of Musicians 410

Military Music 411

Music in Everyday Life 413

Music in the Theatre 414

Recitals and Virtuosi 416

Imperial Amateurs 417

Music Teaching 419

XI. THE MUSIC OF ISLAM. By HENRY GEORGE FARMER

Islamic Civilization 421

The Cultural Background 422

The Rise of Islamic Music 427

Secular Music 433

Religious Music 438

Instruments of Music 442

The Practical Art 447

The Theory of Music 456

The Influence 464

BIBLIOGRAPHY 479

CONTENTS OF THE HISTORY OF MUSIC IN SOUND, VOLUME I 504

INDEX 507

ILLUSTRATIONS

KRISHNA PLAYING A FLUTE

Frontispiece

Relief from a temple at Belūr (Deccan). Hoysala Dynasty, twelfth century.

Reproduced by courtesy of the Bollingen Foundation.

I. PRIMITIVE INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 34

(a) Xylophone. Ten flat wooden keys with gourd resonators, two strikers, and fibre cord for hanging. Baluba of Lake Moero, Congo.

(b) Slit drum, hollowed from one piece of wood, terminating at each end with a woman's head showing artificial cranial deformation. Struck with a wooden stick. Made by the Mangbetu of East Sudan.

(c) Zither made from bamboo, with eight strips slit away from the surface and bridged to form strings, the hollow bamboo acting as a resonator. Dyak, Borneo.

(d) Wooden rattle, enclosing small stones, representing the raven, sparrow-hawk, and a demon absorbing through his tongue from the frog the power of working spells. Painted blue, red, and black. Haida Indians, North-West America.

(e) Zansa with eight iron keys and gourd resonator. The hands are put through the slots and the keys plucked by the thumbs. Ibo of Onitsha Province, Nigeria.

Reproduced by courtesy of the Curator of the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford.

II. PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 38

(a) Side-blown trumpet carved from elephant tusk. West Africa.

(b) Bone vertical flute with three finger-stops and one thumb-stop drilled by stone borer. Ancient Peruvian, Chancay.

(c) Conch-shell trumpet, side-blown (Triton giganteus variegatus). Nares Bay, Admiralty Islands, Pacific.

(d) Whistle made of a reindeer phalanx. One blows between the two nearer articular condyles against the edge of the hole. Upper Palaeolithic, about 20,000 years old, from the cave of La Madeleine, Dordogne, France.

(e) Globular gourd flute with two stops. Jarawa, Northern Nigeria.

Reproduced by courtesy of the Curator of the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford.

III. CHINESE INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 88

(a) Seven-stringed zither (guuchyn); dorsal aspect, showing the seven silk-gut strings and the thirteen mother-of-pearl studs marking the nodes. The tassels are decorative extensions of the looped silk cords which pass through the tuning pegs to secure the strings.

(b) The same; ventral aspect, showing the seven tuning pegs, the two knobs round which the ends of the strings are tightly twisted, the two sound holes ('Dragon Pool' and 'Roc Lake'), the personal name of the instrument: 'The Dragon's Purr', and the seal of the engraver.

(c) Globular flute (shiun). Three finger-holes are visible; two thumb-holes are present on the side away from the camera. This is a modern replica made to the specifications of the present Bureau of Rites and Music.

xiv

ILLUSTRATIONS

(d) Two globular flutes of Tarng date in the form of human heads. The eyes are the finger-holes.

(e) Mouth-organ(sheng). The apparent length of the pipes is not in every case the effective length; holes on the inner face of the pipes may shorten the length of the air column. The pipes speak only when the finger-holes visible near the base are closed. The instrument is held with the pipes almost horizontal. This is a Japanese instrument.

(f) Detail of the same. This shows the ends of two bamboo pipes removed from the wind chest; one still carries a thin sheet of copper (white with verdigris) in which a rectangular free reed has been cut. The frequency of vibration has been adjusted by means of the small blob of wax near the free end.

(g) Vertical six-holed flute(shiau). One of a pair of instruments from Yuhbing, a famous centre for flutes.

(h) Detail of the same. The blow-hole is cut in the nodal diaphragm, and the wall bounding its outer rim is trimmed to a sharp edge. The embouchure is not fixed (as in a Western recorder, for example), and practice is required to make the shiau speak.

(i) Clay whistle flute in the form of a bear, from Shandong. The blow-hole is in the forehead. The stream of air strikes a sharp edge bounding the lower margin of the air-exit on the dorsal side.

(j) Bamboo ‘whistle’ from Shandong. Two bamboo free reeds are let into the wall of each of two short bamboo tubes, closed at both ends. On the side away from the camera, two small mouth-pieces are let into the larger tubes. The reeds are tuned about a semitone apart and are set in motion simultaneously by blowing into the mouth-pieces.

IV. (a) CHINESE PLAYERS OF MOUTH-ORGAN,SHENG, AND PERCUSSION-CLAPPER, CHONGDWU.

facing p. 94

From Prince Ju Tzayyuh, The Handbook of Music (1596).

(b) CHINESE SONOROUS STONES, CHINQ, ASSOCIATED WITH LAUDATORY DECLAMATION, TOGETHER WITH THE HAND-DRUM, TAUR.

From Prince Ju Tzayyuh, op. cit.

V. (a) CHINESE ROC-HEADED VERTICAL HARP WITH EIGHTEEN STRINGS

From Chern Yang, Yueh Shu (13th-14th century).

(b) CHINESE SEVEN-STRINGED ZITHER TABLATURE

From the end of the twelfth century. This is a song with zither accompaniment and an interlude for zither alone. Reading from right to left the columns are: first the title, and then alternately tablature and text. The tablature is described on page 99 and transcribed as example 186. The interlude extends from the sixth to the eighth column. From the Syhbuh Tsongkan edition.

VI. CHINESE AND OTHER FAR-EASTERN INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 136

(a) Two-stringed Manchurian fiddle.

(b) Mouth-organ in use among the Chingmiau near Anshuen, Gueyjou Province, China. The free reeds of the six pipes are of copper and are lancet-shaped. They are tuned with blobs of wax. In this instrument the wind chest is of wood.

(c) Jew's harp of three tuned elements in use among the Lihjiang I olo in Yunnan Province, China. The three elements are gripped between thumb and closed fingers of the left hand and set in motion by plucking the projecting 'keys' with the fingers of the right hand.

(d) Toy Jew's harp played by Minjia children in Shiijou, near Dahlii, Yunnan Province, China. The vibrating tongue is much thicker below the forked tip than elsewhere. It is set in motion by jerking a silk-gut cord attached to the lower end in the photograph.

(e) Three-stringed idiochordic bamboo tube-zither from Borneo. The strings are slivers of bamboo raised from the surface of the tube.

(f) Mouth-organ from Borneo. The wind-chest is a gourd.

(g) Detail of the same. Two of the free reeds are shown in pipes removed from the wind chest. Each reed is a rectangular tongue cut in a thin sheet of bamboo let into the wall of the pipe. Near the free end of each there is a thickening, comparable to that on the tongues of Minjia and Lolo Jew's harps (figures (c) and (d)). This figure should be compared with Plate III, figures (f) and (j).

Figures (a), (e), (f), and (g) are reproduced by courtesy of the Curator of the Cambridge University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.

VII. (a) INDIAN VÎNÂ PLAYER

facing p. 214

A representation of the Rāginī Syāma Gūjarī. This rāginī is said to belong to the rainy season and should be sung in the early hours of the morning, expressing a mood of sadness and melancholy. (Bodleian Library MS. Laud. Or. 149 fo. 33v.)

(b) A BURMESE ORCHESTRA, SAING TYPE

For theatrical and other performances on a large scale. Melodic instruments: oboes with detachable brass bell-mouths; a graduated scale of drums played with the hands; a graduated scale of brass gongs played with wooden strikers tipped with disks of buffalo hide. Instruments for rhythm and emphasis: a bass drum struck with the fist, and four drums played by the hands; drums beaten with sticks; cymbals; wooden spring clappers. Pictures copied from E. J. Colston, 'A Monograph on Tanning and Working Leather in the Province of Burma' (Rangoon, 1903), by courtesy of the Curator of the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford.

VIII. MESOPOTAMIAN INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 240

(a) Assyrians playing lower-chested harps (reign of Ashur-nāṣir-pal, 883-859 B.C.). Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

(b) Harp from Ur (twenty-fifth century B.C.). Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

(c) The royal Elamite orchestra, showing upper and lower-chested harps, double reed-pipes, and drum (reign of Ashur-bāni-pal, 668–626 B.C.). See pages 237–8. Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

IX. EGYPTIAN INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 274

(a) Lower-chested harp and flute (Eighteenth Dynasty, c. 1570–1310 B.C.). Reproduced by courtesy of the Director of the Rijksmuseum, Leiden.

(b) Harp, lute, and double reed-pipe (c. 1475 B.C.). From the tomb of Amenemhet, Thebes. Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

xvi

ILLUSTRATIONS

X. GREEK INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 352

(a) A kithara player singing.

An Athenian vase c. 480 B.C. Reproduced by courtesy of the Museum of

Fine Arts, Boston.

(b) A Greek Music School.

The instructor is playing on a lyre and singing; about him are youths

playing double auloi, and holding flutes and lyres. Athenian vase of the

early fifth century B.C. Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the

British Museum.

XI. ROMAN INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 406

(a) A Priest of Cybele.

Relief showing cymbals, tympanum, and twin Phrygian pipes. (c. A.D.

150.) See p. 405.

(b) Roman Musicians at the Circus

Showing the tuba, hydraulus (with female player), and cornu. From a

mosaic at Zliten (late first century A.D.).

XII. A ROMAN CONCERT

facing p. 414

Showing twin pipes and kithara. See page 413. From a fresco at

Herculaneum. Reproduced by courtesy of the Museo Nazionale, Naples.

XIII. ARABIC INSTRUMENTS

facing p. 456

From the Kitāb al-Adwār of Ṣafī al-Din 'Abd al-Mu'min (d. A.D. 1294)

(a) Lute of five double strings (Bodleian Library MS. Marsh 521, fo. 157ᵛ.

A.D. 1333-4).

(b) Psaltery of thirty-two strings (from the same MS., fo. 158).

(c) Harp of thirty-four strings (Cairo MS. f. j., 428. A.D. 1326-7).

The Arabic in figure (a) gives the names of the parts of the instrument,

whilst that in figures (b) and (c) indicates the tuning. See pages 462–3.

XIV. ARABIC MUSIC MANUSCRIPTS

facing p. 464

(a) British Museum MS. Or. 2361, fo. 32. Late thirteenth century.

(b) British Museum MS. Or. 136, fo. 38ᵛ. Late thirteenth century.

For a transcription of these see pages 454–5.

Reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

The second edition of the Oxford History of Music had an Introductory Volume edited by Percy C. Buck which dealt primarily with those facts and forms which preceded the rise of polyphony, and included other subjects which had been omitted in the first edition. Explaining the scope and content of the volume, Buck stated 'that the understanding of any subject can only be derived from the study of how it came to be what it is'. This aim was not fully realized in the Introductory Volume, because its chapters were not designed to form a unity, but to fill the gaps in the main body of the work. It has needed the replanning and rewriting of the whole history of music as delineated in the 'General Introduction' to make it possible to approach Buck's far-sighted postulate.

During the two decades that separate the publication of the Introductory Volume and the planning of the New Oxford History of Music musicological research has made great progress in the field covered by the present volume. Phonograph and gramophone have made it possible to study the music of remote and primitive peoples. The methods of transcribing the music have improved. Comparative musicology, that new branch of musical research, regarded in its beginnings some fifty years ago as a side-line, has enlarged its scope and developed its methods. Orientalists have taken an ever-increasing interest in writings about music and passages in historical works referring to it. Students of comparative liturgiology have given the initiative to an investigation of the relationship between Jewish and Christian chant, and their work has led to the examination of the passages on music in the Holy Scriptures in a new light.

The present volume takes into account this widening of the field of musicological studies, which has created a new outlook. The first chapter gives an introduction to the essentials of all kinds of primitive music. The main part of the volume, Chapters II-VIII, gives a historical survey of the music of the East. The next section, Chapters IX-X, contains a survey of Greek and Roman music, and the last, Chapter XI, deals with the music of the Islamic world.

It has been clear to the Editor from the beginning that the treatment of such vast and divergent material in a single volume must be carried out on different principles from those applied to the other volumes of the History. There, as pointed out in the General

B 3608

b

xviii

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

Introduction, music is seen as an art, closely connected with various trends of our Western civilization. Such treatment not only permits but enforces the application of the so-called 'historical method' which aims at describing the single work of art as a product of the creative mind of a composer; or, where this is impossible, at a description of the creative tendencies of a group or school of composers who remain anonymous.

When we come to deal with non-European music, however, we cannot apply the same criteria as we use in studying and appreciating the music of the West. In the East music has—or at any rate had until recently, when social changes, the wireless and the gramophone have so much altered the whole outlook—still preserved its ritual, even its magic character. The factor of time which governs the structure of Western music plays hardly any part in Oriental music. An Arabic song may last more than an hour, the performance of a Chinese opera stretch out over several days. To the Western musician conciseness of expression, clearly shaped form, and individuality are the highest criteria by which a work of art is judged; the attitude of the listener is an active one: he listens to what the composer has to say. The Eastern musician likes to improvise on given patterns, he favours repetition, his music does not develop, does not aim at producing climaxes, but it flows; and the listener becomes entranced by the voice of the singers, by the sound of the instruments, and by the drumming rhythms.

All this makes it difficult to apply our critical values to music which is so essentially different from our own. For example, in judging Chinese music, we are in the same position as the Chinese listeners to whom, as Amiot relates in his Mémoire sur la musique des Chinois (Paris, 1779), French missionaries played music of Rameau: it meant nothing to them. We have also a report from the nineteenth century of the effect of songs by Schubert on a Chinese audience; they liked the music as a play of notes, but objected that it did not move the heart.

How, one may ask, can one hope to acquire any knowledge of Oriental music, if such a cleavage exists in structure and expression between the music of the East and that of the West? And one may add, that objection applies to an even higher degree to our understanding and appreciation of primitive music, with which the present volume opens.

It is here that the work of the comparative musicologist begins. The student of this most recent branch of our studies will not confine

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

himself to describing the peculiarities of each tribe whose music has been recorded. That kind of research precedes his work which, in the same way as the ethnologist's, must consist in showing the function of music in primitive life. Such studies must remain within the scope of general statement, derived from the material which precedes historical research.

A similar though more specialized approach must be applied to Oriental music. Here one must rely to a great extent on the judgement of those experts who have devoted themselves to the study of the music of a particular part of the civilized world from enthusiasm and a peculiar inclination, fully equipped with the knowledge of the language, the customs, rites, and ceremonies of the people whose music they investigate, and the experience of having heard the music performed in the surroundings in which it was created and to which it belongs. Some of the music, like that of India, Java, Bali, Laos, and Indochina, for example, appeals to the Western mind directly; that of China and Japan, however, needs a more thorough acquaintance before it is appreciated and before it is possible to distinguish between old and modern instrumental music; folk-songs on the one hand, and ceremonial and ritual music on the other. The main obstacle for the European listener in appreciating Far Eastern music comes in the beginning from the different method of voice-production. For the European, singing is a kind of elated speech; for the Far Eastern musician singing is opposed to speech: the voice is used like a highly strung instrument.

For the study of the Ancient Orient, of which no music has survived, we must turn to the visual arts to learn which instruments were used, and to literary sources to discover what those who wrote about their national music thought of it. In this case the task of the scholar will be similar to that of the historian: to state what he has read about the music, and to convey to the reader the impression that he has gathered from his sources.

To deal with Jewish and Islamic music and that of Greece and Rome a different approach has been felt to be necessary. Systematic studies in Jewish music are of recent date and are based upon the methods of comparative musicology. It has been necessary to determine how far the oral tradition can be traced back, and to what extent time and cultural changes have altered the character of the music. The result of these studies has been more positive perhaps than one dared to expect. For example, recordings of the religious music of Jewish communities who have lived for centuries separated from their neighbours have shown that they are still related to the

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INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

common source and, furthermore, that their psalm-tunes and many

other liturgical chants are closely related to, if not identical with,

those of the Christian churches, both Eastern and Western, who took

them over in the early days of Christianity. Thus a new basis for the

study of Christian chant has been established.

The approach to the music of Islam and the methods employed in

investigating its character and history have been the same. Here

again the integration of these studies into the history of Western

music will shed new light on some problems which are still under

discussion. With the chapter on Greek music we enter a field of

studies which, since the days of Humanism, has been favoured by

classical scholars. We need only recall Meursius's edition of the

theoretical treatises of Aristoxenus, Nicomachus, and Alypius,

printed in Amsterdam in 1616, followed by the more comprehensive

edition of Meibom in 1652 and of Ptolemy's Harmonicorum libri

tres, printed at Oxford in 1682. Bellermann's edition of Die Hymnen

des Dionysius und Mesomedes in 1840 aroused the interest of musico-

logists in Greek music, and from that time its investigation has been

an important subject of musicological research.

However, the study of Greek music has shown also the difficulties

with which one is faced in studying the music of a period from which

only a limited number of musical documents have survived. From

the writings of Greek poets, philosophers, and theorists Greek music

seems familiar to us. In fact, the music itself, when we read or hear it,

seems to offer no problems to our understanding from the formal or

aesthetic point of view. We find in it those qualities which appeal

directly to our mind: clarity of shape and conciseness of expression.

But how can we attempt to comprehend Greek music as a whole from

the few fragments which have come down to us?

Hermann Abert, a musicologist of the former generation, whose

book on the ethos of Greek music has become a classic, discussed this

question in a lecture on Greek music, given to the Prussian Academy

in 1923. He asked his audience to visualize the position of a musico-

logist who, 2,000 years from now, would try to give a picture of our

music with the following documents as the only material from which

to draw his conclusions: three bars from the St. Matthew Passion,

a drinking-song from the eighteenth century, a Mass by Bruckner,

half a dozen modern pieces for the piano; but, in addition, a great

many theoretical works from J. J. Fux's Gradus ad Parnassum to a

modern textbook on harmony. Would he be able to give an adequate

picture of our music from these sources?

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

xxi

Such is our position in relation to the material of Greek music at

our disposal. But we may ask further: even if we had enough docu-

ments to enable us to make an historical approach, should we be any

nearer to a real understanding of its aesthetics or to a knowledge of

the effect it had on the audience for which it was written?

This question may well be asked about Oriental music also. We

must face the fact that the music which we read, or even hear on

records, can give us only a faint idea of what it means to the people

who live with it. This may be illustrated by a few examples, taken

from personal experience.

During the concerts given for the members of the first Congress of

Arabic Music at Cairo in 1932 we heard a Persian singer who sang

of his sorrow at leaving his friends. The audience, which consisted

mostly of Egyptians, became so excited that they forgot they were

listening to a song and shouted: ‘Stay with us, do not leave us.’

One felt at once that the artificial barriers which in the modern

concert hall separate the singer from his audience had been broken

down. For his audience the plaintive song of the singer had become

reality. I was reminded of the Greek classical play in which the

personae dramatis were for the audience not the actors in the role of

the heroes of the past, but actually the shadows of the dead heroes,

conjured up from Hades by the priest of Dionysus to perform their

deeds once more.

On another occasion we saw the solemn ritual of the ‘dancing

dervishes’. It was impossible to believe that old men who had per-

formed the whirling movement for more than an hour could sit down

when the dance came to an end without breathing more heavily, if

one did not assume that the music had produced a state of trance in

which the normal physical reactions were suspended. One was

reminded of the writings of the Platonists and Gnostics which describe

the sacred dances as the symbols of the movements of the moon, the

sun, and the stars, and music as a supernatural power, as an ἐπ-ανὀρ-

θως τῶν ἡθῶν, as a means to improve the character.

Finally we saw the dance of Egyptian sorceresses, who danced to

an exciting music of flutes, fiddles, and drums round the imaginary

body of a sick man. Here one felt at once: such was the kind of

music to which Plato refers in his Laws (790 d) when he speaks of the

‘female healers of Corybantic troubles’.

These examples, taken from the music of the Islamic world, could

easily be supplemented by a great number of others, all demon-

strating the magic effect of music. They would lead from travellers’

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INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

descriptions of the rituals of primitive tribes to the writings of the

sages of Ancient China about the power of music to organize or

disrupt the order of the State.

This brings us to an explanation of the plan of the present volume.

The reader may object to the separation of the chapters on Hebrew

and Jewish music in this volume from those on ‘Early Christian

Chant’ in Volume II; with our growing knowledge of the develop-

ment of Christian from Jewish liturgy, one might have expected to

find both sections side by side. For similar reasons one might object

to the placing of Greek and Roman music in the first volume, because

both belong to European civilization and particularly because Greek

and Roman musical theory had a decisive influence upon medieval

theorists.

There is, however, a unifying idea in the volume. It deals with the

music of the non-Christian world: a world in which music is regarded

as a power creating a magic effect upon the listener. This magic

character of music ranges, according to the state of civilization of the

people who produce it, from totemistic connotations to music which

represents a certain rite or a certain ceremony and creates in the

listener the proper mood to participate in it. Considering the emo-

tional character of such music, one may well understand the many

warnings of the Fathers of the Church in the early days of Christianity

against any kind of singing which creates such an effect. Even St.

Augustine, brought up in the classical tradition and, as one knows

from the famous passage in his Confessions, enjoying music ‘which is

pleasing to the ear’, advises that the chanting of the psalms should be

nearer to recitation than to singing—pronuncianti vicinior esset quam

canenti—and says in another place: ‘We sing with our voice to be

excited, we sing with our heart to please God’ (Enarratio in Ps. 147, 5).

This rigid attitude of the Church in its first centuries shows that

she was aware of the magic power of music in the surrounding pagan

world. When the Christian faith was established as the acknowledged

religion all over the Roman Empire, it was no longer necessary; the

magic spell was broken. Music could now be used primarily as laus

Dei, to heighten the splendour of the service, and, in our Western

civilization, the way was opened for its development as an art.

Various circumstances, unavoidable with a composite work of this

kind, have caused delay in bringing out the present volume and

INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME I

xxiii

have necessitated continuous revision. The Editor wishes to express

his own and the Editorial Board's thanks for the indefatigable efforts

of the contributors to keep their work up to date.

EGON WELLESZ

Lincoln College, Oxford

January 1957

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Acknowledgements are due to the following for permission to re-

produce music examples from the works cited: Librairie Delagrave,

Paris (A. Lavignac and L. de la Laurencie, Encyclopédie de la

musique); Paul Geuthner, Paris (A. Gailhard, Théâtre et musique

modernes en Chine); Breitkopf and Härtel, Wiesbaden (E. Fischer,

Beiträge zur Erforschung der chinesischen Musik); the Sven Hedin

Foundation, Stockholm (Reports from the Scientific Expedition to the

North-Western Provinces of China); W. W. Norton & Co., Inc., New

York (Curt Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, including

two examples after Frizzi (Peri)); T. Howard Somervell ('The Music

of Tibet' from the Musical Times); Colin McPhee (Angkloeng Game-

lans in Bali, A House in Bali, and 'The 5-tone Gamelan Music

of Bali'); the Editor of Anthropos, Poisieux; Mezhdunarodnaya

Kniga (500 kazakskikh pesen); Dr. Jaap Kunst (De eenheense muziek

in N. Guinea, 'Music in Nias', A Study on Papuan Music, and Over

zeldzame fluiten); Cha Fu-Hsi (extracts from recordings in the

Library of Congress, Washington); G. Schirmer, Inc. (article by

Colin McPhee, 'The 5-tone Gamelan Music of Bali', in Musical

Quarterly, April 1949); Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften

(R. Lach, Gesänge russischer Kriegsgefangener); the National Museum

of Canada (Jenness and Roberts, Eskimo Songs); the Smithsonian

Institution (Bulletins of the Bureau of American Ethnology); the

Editor, Journal de la société des Américanistes; the Finno-Ugrian

Society (A. Kannisto, Wogulische und ostjakische Melodien); Uni-

versity Museum, Philadelphia (Speck-Sapir, Ceremonial Songs of the

Creek and Yuchi Indians); the Syndics of the Cambridge University

Press (Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres

Straits, ed. A. C. Haldon); the Oxford University Press (P. Kirby,

'Bushmen', in Bantu Studies); and George Allen & Unwin Ltd. (a

translation by Arthur Waley of four lines from The Book of Songs).

I

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

By Marius Schneider

COMPARATIVE MUSICOLOGY

Until a few decades ago the term ‘history of music’ meant merely the ‘history of European art music’. It was only by degrees that the scope of music was extended to include the indispensable foundation of non-European and, finally, primitive music. Since only a few relics of primitive music survive in European folk-music, to get any idea at all of primitive music scholars had to turn first to the primitive tribes still living in the Stone Age. At the same time the study of more highly developed non-European cultures, which had begun much earlier, was revived and a new branch of musicology concerned exclusively with non-European music came into being. This new discipline was called ‘comparative musicology’, its primary aim being the comparative study of all the characteristics, normal or otherwise, of non-European art. This study led to the establishment of connexions between European and non-European music.

It must be emphasized that the methods of the musical ethnologist are entirely different from those of the historian. For the student of primitive music Europe has played only a very small part in the total framework of human history. But he has to attempt to rediscover the bridges between European and non-European music which certainly once existed and to reconstruct them, theoretically at least, by means of comparative ethnology. The aim of the present chapter is to describe the music of the hunting, pastoral, and peasant peoples whose historical position is bounded at one end by the earliest primitive cultures and at the other by the beginnings of more advanced cultures. At the extreme end are those pastoral and peasant peoples, for example the Caucasians, who already show the marked influence of a highly developed culture and must be included because their tradition, still alive today, provides the key to the understanding of those ancient civilizations which can now be investigated only by purely archaeological methods.

Although all the material dealt with here is of recent origin, we shall use the term ‘historical development’ as understood by the

B 3608 B

2

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

ethnologist who attempts to bring into historical order the medley of

primitive, transitional, and advanced cultures which still exist side by

side in the world today. ‘Higher development’ simply means a

general historical process and is in no way intended as a criterion of

musical value.

MELODY AND MANKIND

Primitive music is a separate field of its own, but to a much greater

extent than art music it is bound up with everyday life and with many

special factors: psychological, sociological, religious, symbolic, and

linguistic. Some songs must be performed only by a certain individual;

others must be sung only by men or women. The same melodies may

have a quite different psychological meaning, according to whether

they are sung falsetto, or with a nasal or chest voice. For a proper

understanding of any given musical phenomenon direct contact with

the singers and their surroundings is therefore indispensable. The

conception that we can get from the written version of a simple

melody is quite inadequate (and may even be entirely misleading)

unless we have this practical experience. In particular we need to be

acquainted with the method of performance of the people concerned

and the tone quality they produce, in order to hear the song correctly.

It is a simple matter of experience that the actual transcription of a

melody will vary essentially according to whether it is made from

a direct hearing and seeing of the singer or only indirectly from a

gramophone record. In the first instance the rhythm of the song as a

whole will be more accurately transcribed; in the second the melodic

details will be better reproduced. A primitive melody is always the

musical expression of an idea. Primitive man sings only when he has

something definite to express. Since his singing is the spontaneous

expression of his thought, song and speech are often mingled in the

course of his performance. If one tries to introduce a primitive man to

a new tune (without the foreign words which he cannot understand)

he will never stop asking what the song is about. For him the thoughts

expressed in the song are at least as important as the melody itself.

But if he hears a melody that pleases him, the words of which he does

not understand, he will at once add words of his own. Even his instru-

mental melody and his whistling are the expression of definite ideas.

Thus the roots of programme-music reach down into the earliest

strata of instrumental music. Whether the simple sing-song of certain

kinds of children’s songs and lullabies is entirely bereft of ideas has

still to be proved. The idea need not be clearly formulated in words;

MELODY AND MANKIND

3

it may consist of a vaguely defined thought, felt rather than conceived,

expressed directly in sound without the mediation of an intelligible

sequence of words. It may also happen that the logical thought and

the musical motive pass little by little from the indefinite to the

definite in the course of the song, as if the initial dream-state were

gradually yielding to waking consciousness. Many of the supposedly

nonsensical syllables to which a melody is sung also have a magic

significance. Thus the syllable hee often serves to express the shooting

of an arrow and hoo has a medical value. Such syllables serve to evoke

a spirit or frighten it away. Just as one cannot sound a medicine-rattle

heedlessly or merely for fun without falling ill, so one must not sing

thoughtlessly to oneself, for every note summons up a spirit. Melody

has a great significance for primitive man, a magic power which

must not be squandered or abused. The agreement of sounds is

always a symbol of identity or at least of mutual understanding. In

the Solomon Islands, when an invitation is sent to a neighbouring

tribe it is customary to send the measurements of the tribal panpipes

so that the guests can tune theirs beforehand, thus ensuring the

greatest agreement in the mutual musical greeting. When young men

are singing, and it suddenly occurs to one of them to strike up so high

a melody that the other singers cannot follow him, sometimes a young

girl will take up the melody in this high register and continue it.

When this happens, it means that the two young people are in love.1

A melody is not a chance combination of notes but an organic

and dynamic whole, a form which is more than the simple sum of the

notes of which it consists. A succession of single notes artificially

put together is ineffectual because it is a synthetic product, not

a living one. The aboriginal describes a melody of that kind as

'powerless' because it is not in a position to offer a dwelling-place to

a spirit. Primitive melody, which is scarcely more than a continually

repeated and varied motive, is regulated essentially by the tension

between the beginning of the motive and its final note. All the notes

between are determined by conscious striving towards the last note.

Both the motive and the series of its repetitions grow according to

definite patterns which can assume the most varied forms according

to the particular culture or the ideas and feelings expressed.2

This growth of melody is undoubtedly one of the main reasons why

music is so significant in the life of primitive peoples. Music and

dancing create a movement which generates something that is more

1 M. Leenhardt, Arts de l'Océanie (Paris, 1947), p. 58.

2 See infra, p. 24.

4

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

than the original movement itself. As he sings and dances, man discovers in himself an all-pervading element whose intensifying, liberating, or healing power is unknown to him in everyday life. Music which has such an intensifying effect grows to the point of ecstasy. The quietly and regularly flowing rhythms lead to a great inward release. I have myself observed the liberating and healing power of music in the case of a native of Uganda who, at the funeral of a brother (killed by a spirit), at first broke into a terrible howl of rage and then, beginning to sing, gradually defeated the black demon of despair by the soothing power of song.

The effects of musical rhythm are especially strong when singing is accompanied by dance movements or by the singer's own playing on an instrument. Of course this purely instinctive, primitive music-making has at this stage nothing to do with art. Nevertheless, even in the oldest cultures we find the preconditions of art: the mastery and more or less conscious shaping of the medium of expression. Where the singer who is at the same time dancing tries to achieve a certain regularity in his movements, his singing takes on regular musical forms. The pure play-instinct certainly has a great part in this shaping of the melody into regular phrases. On the other hand it must be noted that even ecstatic songs and dances often exhibit very rigid phrase-structure.

This regularity of tectonic structure is even more striking when the community takes part as a choir. But the participation of a choir not only helps the regularity of the rhythmic movement: it also contributes materially to the unification of the melodic line. The African pygmy dances in Father P. Schebesta's collection1 usually begin with a wild cry for all the singers out of which a comparative unison gradually emerges. The melodic lines and the various rhythms of the opening gradually adjust themselves to one another and in the end there emerges a completely regular community chant.

The powerful influence of collective performance on the development of primitive music can be seen from the fact that even funeral music and love-songs are also very largely choral. The life of the individual is so strongly bound up with the community that the latter will not relax its guardianship even during the short hours of the wedding night, which it celebrates with continual singing.

The collective consciousness, however, does not lead at all to a musical 'levelling'. The distinction between soloist and chorus is always maintained. This hierarchy is expressed both by different

1

In the Phonogramm-Archiv of the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde.

MELODY AND MANKIND

methods of performance and by the degree of ecstasy to which the

singers gradually abandon themselves in the ritual songs. The soloist

is the master, the choir are his 'assistants'. Even when both sing the

same song the soloist performs it sharply and abruptly, the choir in

a more cantabile (arioso) manner. The soloist dances; the choir forms

a magic protective circle around him. The soloist intensifies his

rhythms more and more in order to penetrate into the land of spirits.

But this he can do only with the help of the chorus, whose singing

and hand-clapping set him in motion and lead him to a state of

ecstasy. When the movement is in full swing, the relation between

singer and song seems to be completely reversed, for the dancing

soloist, who is the initiator of the melody, is now borne along by the

song. The music is a vehicle, a ship or a road, transporting the mortal

to another land. All movements become reflexes. While the dancer

adorned with dangling rattles abandons himself to the mysterious

powers of the rhythmic sounds, he senses that out of this game that

he himself has created something is growing that is greater than he.

He grows with the song and entwines himself about it until the

moment when he identifies himself with it and becomes a human

rattle. Then his soul ascends into the land of the spirits, while the

chorus guard his body until the soul returns to it.

THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC

According to the old European theory, music begins at the point

where clearly distinguishable intervals appear. In contrast, speech is

regarded as a succession of variations of pitch. This distinction is

not applicable to primitive music, however, or to non-European art

music, because these involve the use of all the vocal resources,

including whispering, speaking, humming, singing, and even yelling.

In the same way, at some time or other any implement capable of

producing a rhythm becomes a 'musical instrument' in the hands of

a savage.

It is very difficult to say anything definite about the origin of music,

because the phenomenon is quite outside the range of our observa-

tion. Even in those primitive civilizations that still exist there is no

race so primitive that it can be considered a relic of the very beginning

of human culture. Naturally there is no lack of theories about the

origin of music. Charles Darwin attributed song to the imitation of

animal cries in the mating season. Against this, it is to be noted that

while it is true the imitation of animal cries plays a big part in the

oldest civilizations known to us, love-songs are very rare and usually

6

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

mythological rather than erotic in character. Rousseau, Herder,

and Spencer1 argued that speaking with a raised voice was the begin-

ning of song; and a kind of ‘speech song’ or chant-like recitative is

indeed to be found in many primitive cultures. Whether this style is

derived from speech seems very doubtful, however, in view of the

many nonsense syllables (without verbal significance) which form the

‘text’ of these songs. Wallaschek2 stresses the importance of rhythm in

the origin of music. Buecher3 even traces its beginnings to occupational

rhythms, overlooking the fact that occupational songs belong to a

very late stage of cultural history.

According to Father W. Schmidt4 and Carl Stumpf5 music arose,

like speech, from the need to give signals by sound. A loud cry led

to lingering on a note of definite pitch. With this basic idea Stumpf

linked his theory of consonance: if the cry was uttered simultaneously

by men and women so that it sounded in two different pitches at once

ditones resulted, preference being necessarily given to octaves, fifths

and fourths owing to their high degree of blending. If such sounds were

then sung successively, instead of together, an interval resulted and

its progressive breaking up into smaller parts led to the formation of

melody. In Stumpf’s view, the real step towards the development of

music was the breaking up of the original ditone into successive notes

and the transposition of ‘cry’ notes and musical motives. This

theory conflicts, however, with the fact that in many primitive

cultures the motives are often made up of very small intervals and

motive-transpositions usually occur at very close intervals.

Although we must reject the hypothesis that speech is proto-

morphic music, it is still possible to speculate whether the very

ancient ‘sound-languages’ may not represent the common source of

both speech and music. In these languages, which will be dealt with

more fully later,6 the meaning of a syllable depends on the pitch at

which it is uttered. Thus such a language is itself musical. If it is

sung, music merely gives a more arioso effect to the melodic speech-

curves already determined by etymology; it merely strengthens the

existing musical element. It is, of course, possible that the whole

1 The theories of Darwin and Spencer, no longer tenable today, are discussed in

detail by Stumpf in ‘Musikpsychologie in England’, Vierteljahrsschrift für Musik-

wissenschaft, i (1885), pp. 261-349.

2 Primitive Music (London, 1893).

3 Arbeit und Rhythmus (Leipzig, 1924).

4 ‘Über Musik und Gesänge der Karesau-Papuas’, Kongressbericht der internationalen

Musikgesellschaft (Vienna, 1910).

5 Die Anfänge der Musik (Leipzig, 1911).

6 See infra, p. 32.

language is merely a sort of levelled-down music; but it is more likely

that the sound-language is the older element from which developed

both speech and song, speech striving towards free rhythm and music

towards a more regulated one. The greatest difficulty in the way of

this new theory is that at present we know too little about the lan-

guages of the so-called primitive cultures. It is true that various

pygmy races display the elements of 'sound-languages' but so far only

a small number of examples have been collected. For this reason my

own researches have so far been confined to the African Ewe languages

and to Chinese songs. Some songs of the pygmy Batswa, of the

Congo, recently recorded by the Rev. Father Hulstaert and discussed

by F. Tegethoff in a still unpublished Cologne dissertation, however,

show such marked agreement of musical and speech sounds as to

appear to support the theory of the common origin of music and

speech.

It is idle to discuss the relative merits of these theories because the

primitive material available exhibits features which support one as

much as another. In the primitive cultures known to us speaking,

shouting, imitation of animals, and the rhythms of movement all

tend to musical forms whenever man feels the need of a more beautiful

or more effective means of communicating his impressions or wishes.

By so communicating them man frees himself from the impressions

which accumulate in his inner consciousness. Even a simple shout-to

a fellow human or to a higher being-expressing a desire for action,

betokens a liberation. The way it is used in war shows, however, that

it also serves to dispense strength. If the shout is followed by additional

sounds which are not strictly necessary, the psychic relief is even

greater; for by such growth the song not only releases but actually

unfolds the emotion which has hitherto been confined or seeking

expression.

In music there emerge very quickly hard-and-fast, conventional

melodic forms which by reason of their indeterminate significance

can easily become vehicles of the most varied subjective feelings; so

the objective formala, generally recognized and accepted, combines

quickly and easily with the subjective feelings of the singer. In this

way music has a unifying effect in human society. Melody liberates

and gives objective form to feelings that to begin with were amor-

phous, ultra-subjective, or exaggerated.

Singing allows innumerable repetitions of the same words, repeti-

tions which, apart from magical utterances, seem meaningless or

clumsy in ordinary speech; it also enables things to be said or hinted

8

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

at which it would be difficult to express in sober speech. To the uninitiated the words of such songs are for the most part completely unintelligible; but the aboriginal knows exactly what the few, apparently quite disconnected words mean in association with a particular melody. In some way or other music throws a neutralizing veil over that which is individual and realistic, giving it the appearance of something objective and universally valid or typical, without prejudicing its subjective emotional value. It is easier to sing a love-song than to speak a declaration of love. A musical motive, which when performed in a certain way is regarded as a formula of scorn, seems more indirect than plainly spoken abuse. An idea set to music is more formal, more general, or more ambiguous than the same idea expressed in words alone because it is subject to a regular rhythm. In language something of the same kind occurs in the proverbs which, for the same reason, are so popular with primitive peoples.

Besides this spontaneous musical invention—of which sing-song, as an expression of the simple play-instinct, is another example—the imitation of natural sounds plays an important part. Admittedly Schaeffner, disinclined as he is to generalize, is perfectly correct in saying: ‘Toute une fausse optique de l’art musical découle d’une idée abusive de l’imitation.’1 When a savage beats a piece of wood it is a spontaneous act not necessarily originating in any intention of imitation, and although many songs and dances do imitate animal noises, it is unnecessary to trace particular forms, such as the dialogue or the alternation of solo and chorus, back to similar phenomena in the animal world, since human society arrives at such forms unaided. In any case there is no reason why animals should have ‘invented’ such forms more easily than human beings.

Nevertheless, the purely realistic (and also the approximately musical) imitation of natural sounds forms an important constituent of the music of the oldest primitive hunting and food-gathering peoples among whom totemism is an individual affair, that is, not yet the basis of society.

TOTEMISTIC MUSIC

To grasp the significance of totemistic cultures in the history of music it must be remembered that the totemistic conception of the world is anthropomorphic. The natural world is animated by a variety of good and evil spirits, more or less endowed with voices, whose continual interaction determines the course of the world. The sounds

1 André Schaeffner, Les Origines des instruments de musique (Paris, 1936), p. 14.

of nature are the voices of the spirits who dwell in natural objects.

All objects and living things in the world were created by the totem

gods (the mythical ancestors of mankind), created, moreover, in such

a way that every totem-god during his sojourn on earth called into

being only one particular kind of object or creature, i.e. one definite

totem, by means of songs and war-dances: the kangaroo-god, the

kangaroo; the cloud-god, the cloud; the flute-god, the flute. In

Australian mythology these mythical ancestors, having finished their

work and taught men the rites and songs necessary for the mainten-

ance of Creation, sank down exhausted in a cave, died, and became

petrified or turned into bull-roarers. Their ‘mystical’ bodies survive in

their totems but they left to man the actual care of maintaining things.

In view of this fact men began to divide the task between them, in

each tribe entrusting one person or group with the care of a particular

totem and the worship of the corresponding god (or ancestor). As

each object (each kind of stone, plant, animal, wind, musical instru-

ment, &c.) represents a particular totem, in theory the totemistic

order of society constitutes a complete reflection of the world. In

practice, however, and possibly as a later development, the animal

totem predominates.

The connexion with the totem or the mystic ancestor is established

by the person concerned imitating the particular object which it is

his duty to maintain, that is, his own totem. If the totem is a tiger

or a snake, he must behave like a tiger or a snake and if need be even

have direct intercourse with one of the creatures. For example, if the

tiger-man has a drum he must not play it in the usual way, but must

bite and scratch it as would his totem animal. If, to take another

example, he has been assigned to the wind or storm, he will fulfil his

task by means of a corresponding pantomime, like influencing like.

But the essential part of the imitation is the simulating of sounds, for

of all the available means of imitation the human voice is far and

away the best. The form and movements of the human body can be

brought to resemble the outward appearance of the totem only to a

limited degree with the aid of dancing, masks, and other adornments.

The voice, on the other hand, can imitate so well as really to deceive.

One must have heard them to realize how extremely realistically

aboriginals are able to imitate animal noises and the sounds of nature.

They even hold ‘nature concerts’ in which each singer imitates a

particular sound (waves, wind, groaning trees, cries of frightened

animals), ‘concerts’ of surprising magnificence and beauty.

In totemism the voice has much the same significance as, on a

10

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

smaller scale, numbers had for the Pythagoreans. It is a mysterious

bond uniting all things in the universe. If a man is capable of repro-

ducing exactly the croaking of the frog or the hissing of the snake, it

is because his mystic ancestor was the totem-god of the frog or the

snake. When he imitates the voice of his totem with the greatest

realism, he imagines he is obliterating the boundary between subject

and object and identifying himself with his totem. Whoever croaks

like a frog, is a frog. By vocal assimilation he ‘recognizes’ the object

and in that moment becomes the thing recognized. He becomes in fact

a sound-symbol. This symbol, perhaps the oldest in the history of

human culture, which presupposes no technical or material skill, is

the voice of a dead ancestor, whose mystic body survives in the

totem. The song represents the dwelling of the dead ancestor, or is

itself the dead ancestor, who, together with all the other ancestors,

forms the substance of the world.1 Vocal imitation is the strongest

form of mystic participation in the surrounding world.

Here we come upon one of the oldest forms of magic. By singing

the name, or the song, the acoustic substance of the totem-god, or

by playing his flute in the presence of the corresponding mask, one

recognizes him and forces him to sound in the singer’s breath, in the

mask or in the flute, that is, to become substantially (acoustically)

present. Just as one can make an open string vibrate by sounding its

own note on another nearby instrument, so one can conjure up a

spirit by providing it with its mystic station. Evidently the voice or the

sound ranks as the ultimate indestructible substance of each object.

This substance leaves the body of a man at death by escaping through

his mouth in the form of the death-rattle, or through his nose as the

sound of his breathing, and carries his soul away. ‘You are blind

but your ears are not deaf! Listen to me!’ said a Bakango chieftain,

rattle in hand, at the grave of a famous hunter. The idea of the acoustic

nature of the soul, which survived into the Middle Ages in Europe

(symphonalis est anima, said Hildegard von Bingen) and was taken

up again by the German Romantics (notably by Friedrich Schlegel),

is manifest among primitive peoples particularly in the belief that,

even after the disappearance of the last mortal remains, the soul of a

dead man (that is, the substance of the human being) survives as an

essence (spirit) which is perceptible only in sound.

Every human being has his own sound or is a particular melody. To

stop a magician (magicians are capable of imitating the otherwise

inimitable) from imitating this melody and so getting its bearer

1 See infra, p. 43.

into his power, primitive man thinks it necessary to keep his own melody as secret from sorcerers as his ‘real’ name.1 (The intonation of the name is closely related to that of the melody.) Among the Gogodara each clan has its own death-songs which must be kept secret even from the other clans, because they contain the names of the ancestors. The assumption that sound forms the mystic substance of the human being explains the belief that two people having the same name represent merely the dual expression of the same individual.

This leads to the question of the widespread ‘personal song’ which is often identical with an individual’s medicine-song or totem-song. It may be sung only by the person to whom it belongs. Only after its owner’s death may a friend or relative venture to sing the dead person’s song at the funeral. This song honours the deceased but it has real magic power only when sung by the ‘song-father’. The melody of a personal song need not be an original composition but may well belong to the current repertory of the tribe. What makes the melody a personal song is the individual manner of performance. The term ‘personal song’ refers not to the melody as such but to something almost inimitable in the method of performance, the timbre of the voice, the particular rhythm the singer gives to the song. The concept of the ‘personal sound’ seems to lie still deeper. It is to some extent the primary substance out of which the ‘personal song’ is formed and it seems specially closely connected with the timbre of the voice.

As the substance of every being is revealed in rhythmic sound, it is obvious why the timbre of the voice plays such a crucial part in the individual totem system in deciding a man’s mystic descent. Similarity of voice betokens a fundamental relationship. From this it follows that it is only at puberty, that is, when his voice breaks, that a young man is finally named, assigned to the totem, and introduced to his ritual duties. At this time, too, his real musical education begins; he learns the ritual songs and the use of the sacred musical instruments.

The idea of sound as the substance of things may derive from the daily experience of the primitive huntsman as he tries to get animals in his power by imitating their cries and by the use of magic words of terror. But here too, perhaps, age-old mystical traditions regarding the true essence of the natural world are at work. At any rate imitation among primitive peoples is a form of mystic participation which enables a man in everyday life to ‘invoke’ and entice a natural object

1 i.e. the name which best reflects phonetically the essence of the human being. Primitive peoples usually give their children a great number of names. The name by which the child is normally called is unimportant.

12

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

and, by adapting himself to it, to subjugate it or assimilate it to himself—an end unattainable by force.

CULTURE AND RACE

To obtain a reasonably comprehensive picture of the various peoples and cultures of the world, ethnologists have adopted a classification of races according to the predominant forms of their economy and the state of their culture (which probably corresponds to these forms). They distinguish between primitive food-gathering, hunting, pastoral, and agricultural peoples, although there are many races which do not clearly belong to any one of these groups, either because they are culturally or economically in a state of transition, preserving many archaic elements from lower stages of civilization, or because they have been subject to cultural influences which (theoretically) do not correspond to their normal way of life. Thus totemism appears to belong to the early hunting stage, although there are strong traces of it in the middle farmers’ cultures and a particular late form has developed among some cattle-breeding tribes.

The primitive food-gatherers include in particular the pygmies and pygmean races. Hunting, pastoral, and agricultural races are usually divided into lower, middle, and higher groups. The lower groups comprise the totemistic patriarchal hunters, the agricultural and matriarchal civilization based on two classes, and the patriarchal nomadic shepherds. A late stage of hunting civilization is found among former cultivators who have been forced out of their domiciles and have turned to hunting from necessity. The middle pastoral peoples develop cultures dependent on saddle-animals. The middle farmers use a more developed form of hoeing, while the late farmers use the plough and, like the shepherd-warrior group, show very many megalithic and even later influences from high cultures. This theoretical order, which is mainly due to the Vienna school,1 may be represented by the so-called inverted pyramid of civilization:

1 The reader will find a concise summary in O. Menghin, Geschichte der Steinzeit (Vienna, 1931).

CULTURE AND RACE

13

To this ethnographic classification there is a corresponding musical one. If one considers the material so far available1 the three main groups (hunters, shepherds, and cultivators) may be distinguished, theoretically, as follows. Among the hunters, musical performance is interspersed with much shouting, is formed from free speech-rhythms, and has little tonal definition. Among the cultivators, however, an arioso style of performance prevails; the style is tonally regulated and the form is rounded off. The pastoral cultures occupy a middle position. With the hunters, metre is the strongest factor in determining form and is the expression of a very individual kind of music-making, while with the cultivators the collective note and the balance between metre and melody are more important.

This scheme which can be no more than a first attempt to organize the wealth of material, is naturally to be taken cum grano salis, since over each of these theoretical strata (based on the ‘pure’ cultures) are laid others which do not always agree with the first and may even be of quite a different nature, in fact with no cultural connexions at all. Thus, for example, within the same culture, historically considered, the singing of the woman is naturally more cantabile than that of the man. Very often we find coexistent modern, archaic, and foreign styles reflecting the historical development. The hunting songs of farmers who have been formerly hunters are always more authentic than those sung on the hunting expeditions of farmers pure and simple. The true hunting song is rooted in the mystique of the hunt, whereas the late hunting song is merely for entertainment.

If one considers the predominant cultural role of the man in hunting and pastoral societies and that of the woman in agricultural societies the following scheme results:

Hunters——Shepherds——Cultivators

Man Woman

Predominance of Metre Predominance of Melody

Polyphony Harmony

The concepts of polyphony and harmony naturally apply only to the narrowly bounded regions in which part-singing occurs.

Racial characteristics in music are easily detected when one actually hears a singer, but they cannot be described in words. Race shows itself by timbre, by the general rhythm of movement, and by types of melody, in so far as these exhibit particularly individual forms.2 Deliberate screaming or abrupt transition from high falsetto

1 To which the present writer would add his unpublished transcriptions from the Phonogramm-Archiv of the Berlin Museum für Völkerkunde.

2 See infra, p. 24.

14

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

to chest and abdominal voices do not enter the category of racial

characteristics, however, because they represent ideals of performance

belonging to specific cultures and are acquired by conscious effort.

THE FORMATION OF SCALES

Up to now the question of the formation of a tonal system1 has

been answered, notably by Hornbostel and Robert Lachmann,2 by

the assertion that a fixed scale was impossible without instruments

giving clearly defined intervals. As such instrumental tunings are a

product of late civilizations, a real tonal system could not be produced

by primitive races. Strangely enough these two scholars, to whom

comparative musicology owes such a great debt, hardly took any

account of the fact that the very oldest instrumental tonal systems

(which led Hornbostel to the ‘blown fifths’ theory3 now refuted by

Bukofzer and others) do not use the natural (pure) fifths, although

in the vocal music of primitive peoples these intervals not only

frequently determine the tonal framework of the individual motives

but are everywhere found to have the greatest influence in the forma-

tion of scales. In fact tonal systems are formed without the help of

instrumental tunings. They grow progressively in primitive vocal

music out of fanfare-like formations or out of the elementary fourth and

fifth relationships which are found above or below a melody of

narrowly restricted range (Exs. 10, 14, 53, 61, 67, 68, 79, and 80).4

These intervals are even all the clearer and more definite for being

free from any influence of instrumental music. The natural tone-

system is built up entirely of consonances, the only exception—

especially in primitive and middle cultures—being those notes which

are derived from the harmonic division of a consonant melodic

interval. Where, however, rows of overtones (Ex. 63) or slightly

flattened fifths or widened seconds are sung, we may take this as

evidence of the direct influence of instrumental tunings (musical

bow5 or panpipes).6 When the same song is performed simultaneously

1 Marius Schneider, ‘Ethnologische Musikforschung’, in 2nd edition of Preuss and

Trimborn, Lehrbuch der Völkerkunde (Stuttgart, 1956).

2 Musik des Orients, ii, 1 (Breslau, 1929).

3 According to this theory the oldest tone-systems arise from a succession of over-

blown fifths, i.e. they are formed by slightly flattened fifths. See E. M. von Hornbostel,

‘Musikalische Tonsysteme’, in Geiger and Scheel’s Handbuch der Physik, viii (Berlin,

1927); Manfred Bukofzer, ‘Kann die Blasquintentheorie zur Erklärung exotischer

Tonsysteme beitragen?’, Anthropos, xxxii (1937), p. 241; Ll. S. Lloyd, ‘Hornbostel’s

Theory of Blown Fifths’ in The Monthly Musical Record, lxxvi (1946), pp. 3 and 35; J.

Kunst, Around von Hornbostel’s Theory of the Cycle of Blown Fifths (Amsterdam, 1948).

4 The musical examples to this chapter are grouped on pp. 61–82.

5 P. Kirby, ‘The Musical Practices of the Bushmen’, Bantu Studies, x (1936), p. 381.

6 E. M. von Hornbostel, ‘Die Musik auf den nordwestlichen Salomo Inseln’, in R.

Thurnwald, Forschungen auf den Salomo Inseln (Berlin, 1912).

THE FORMATION OF SCALES

15

or alternatively by voices and instruments, the melody proceeds in

two different tunings. The instruments perform it in their own scale,

the voices in theirs (built from natural fifths).

As songs with or without a definite tonal organization are often

found side by side in the same culture, we must distinguish two kinds

of primitive vocal music. The first, which is perhaps the older, is

closely related to speech, to the realistic imitation of natural sounds,

and to emotional outbursts of only slight musical form. It is manifest

not only in recitative, tonally very free recitative (Exs. 5 and 6), but

also in songs of abuse and laments. In religious songs it may even

be traced well into the late cultures. These songs are by no means

limited to a narrow compass; among the American Indians they even

extend to an astonishing range (up to 2½ octaves), particularly when

motives are freely transposed.

Nevertheless, even in these freely intoned songs there is a recogniz-

able tendency to use a clearly defined fourth or fifth as the basic

melodic formula and to group the other tonally indefinite notes more

or less freely around it. If these formulae are transposed, at least one

of the two basic notes is generally found to have a consonant relation-

ship to the first exposition of the motive. In Exs. 18, 19, 22, and 25

this transposition and consonant relationship have a direct influence

on the development of the tonal system for, although the motives

are only small, and only their basic notes are tonally definite, yet by

reason of the transposition of the basic intervals the whole song

already displays in its broad outlines a succinct tonal order. Yet, in

view of the fact that transpositions of the smallest motives are to be

found in very early stages of cultural history at distances of a second

or third (Exs. 17 and 20), neither the pentatonic scale consisting of

seconds and thirds nor the form interspersed with semitones can be

considered older than the six- or seven-degree scale.

With the extension of the consonant relations there emerges a

tone-structure which may be traced back in the field of primitive

music as a rule to a more or less large extract from the series of fifths

(B flat) F, C, G, D, A, E, B (F sharp). The fact that the keys formed

from the series of fifths are so much closer than most of the primitive

instrumental tunings to our European musical sense can probably be

explained only by supposing that the vocal tone-system has been

evolved in a natural and specifically musical fashion, whereas in the

tuning of instruments (which are an artificial product) quite different

principles were applied—such as, for example, the breadth of the

thumb as the standard for the space between flute-holes. It is true

16

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

that there are frequent departures from the system of natural fifths but in many cases the significance of such notes may have been over-estimated. It seems very doubtful whether the measurement of vocal pitches will ever lead to useful results, unless account is taken of the difference between what the singer intends and what he actually achieves. Measurements taken by the writer from a native of Uganda showed that a high note which seemed diatonically too low became quite pure in a second recording in which the song was pitched lower. Moreover, such departures are sometimes quite deliberate. For example, from the above-mentioned measurements it became clear that a note was intentionally taken too low in order to represent the ‘weeping note’.

The essence of musical functions is probably best grasped by considering in the first place not the individual modes, but the whole system of relations of the fifths to one another and by regarding different ‘keys’ only as specific extracts from the series of fifths. In a melody the functional tension (which can, of course, be essentially increased or diminished by the metre) is intensified by increasing the relative distance of the individual notes within the series F, C, G, D, A, E, B. Moreover, the notes F, C, G, and D appear the strongest, probably because they are the most fundamental. (We are assuming that the corresponding melodies are all transposed to a pitch involving the least possible use of accidentals.) In fact it appears that the tonal relationships in the F or C mode are much less complex than in the G, D, A, or E mode. If we take for the primitive motive, in so far as it has a tonal character, F as the fundamental note and F–A or D–F as the germ cell, we find apart from the second above or below the tonic, the fourth below (Exs. 61 and 86) or the harmonically or diatonically divided fifth above (Exs. 80, 82, 83, and 84) as the main function. The augmented fourth above (tritone melodies: Exs. 85, 87, and 113) is probably a late phenomenon.1 On the other hand, melodies in the C mode (Exs. 10, 13, 22, 26, 37, and 52), in addition to the tonic and its neighbours, stress particularly the fourth, that is the ‘subdominant’ F. Songs in the G mode (Exs. 15, 32, and 49) emphasize both the subdominant C and the double subdominant F. Songs in the D mode lay stress on G, C, and F (Exs. 19, 33, and 48). The A and E modes are even richer in relationships (Ex. 21). In other words, the number of functional relationships grows as the fundamental note of the mode advances from F through C and G to D, A or E, for these relationships seem to grow not out of the brilliance

1 J. Kunst, Music in Nias (Leiden, 1939), p. 7; Music in Flores (Leiden, 1942), p. 35.

THE FORMATION OF SCALES

17

of the dominants but out of the dark depths of the subdominants F, C, G, and D. This is, naturally, not to say that in the last-named modes one cannot have a phrase of the greatest functional simplicity; but in these modes the functional possibilities are far greater than in the simple ones of F and C. The scales of all modes can also have seven degrees but the number of notes of real functional importance is limited in the F and C modes to a few notes, while the more highly developed modes (G, D, A, and E) include all the functions of the modes preceding them. This may be expressed in the following table in which the vertical lines represent the progressive increase in functions of subdominant origin:

mode c d [e] ⟨f⟩ [g] a (b) ⟨c⟩ d e f c " [b] ⟨c⟩ [d] e f g a b ⟨c⟩ d e f g g " [c] ⟨d⟩ [e] [f] ⟨g⟩ [a] b c ⟨d⟩ e f g d " [c] ⟨d⟩ [e] [f] [g] a [b] c ⟨d⟩ e e f g a a " [c] [d] e f [g] ⟨a⟩ [b] c d e (e " [c] [d] ⟨e⟩ [f] g a ⟨b⟩ c d e ⟨ ⟩ Tonic; || Subdominant; — Dominant; [ ] Note next to tonic

This theory, put forward by the writer in 1934,1 is confirmed in vocal polyphony in which the tonal relations sketched above—according to mode—are apparent in the selection and nature of the concords.

STRUCTURE OF THE MELODIC AMBIT

The tonal functions discussed above are expressed within a given ambit. The number of patterns which determine the main outlines of a composition is very great and it would be a hopeless undertaking to attempt to enumerate and describe them all here. We will therefore confine ourselves to mentioning the normal patterns which have been most important in the historical development of music. In considering the structure of the ambit we shall take the motive or theme as the given point from which the development of the ambit proceeds. It must be admitted that the separation of the theme from its continuation is in many cases very problematical, but the mass of available musical material enables us to discern definite norms. Apart from this, the musical structure can often be determined from the words. Owing to lack of space, however, it is possible to include the words in the musical examples only in the most important cases.

1 M. Schneider, Geschichte der Mehrstimmigkeit, i (Berlin, 1934).

B 3603

C

18

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

The main principle in the continuation of a given theme consists

of varied repetition. In this repetition many melodies remain per-

sistently within the tonal ambit given by the motive in the first place.

This applies not only to narrow two- or three-note melodies but also

to more broadly constructed ones (Exs. 1, 2, 3, 7–9, 75–84, and

87–93).

There is a very common tendency gradually to diminish the com-

pass with which a melody has begun. Some songs consist merely of

a short introductory motive whose final notes are repeated at such

lengths that they represent the greatest part of the piece (Exs. 10 and

14). With themes of wider range one would be inclined to attribute the

progressive lowering of the top notes to fatigue. But it occurs just as

much with quite short motives of limited compass as with longer

songs (Exs. 11–13, 15, 16, 52, 72–74). Often at the end only the rhythm

of the theme, instead of the melodic line, is repeated in the cadence

notes (Ex. 21). In Ex. 71 the first note of bars 2, 4, and 6 is

lowered each time.

An essential part in the determination of ambit is played by the

attack of the first note and by the form of cadence. Sometimes a song

is introduced by a long high note giving the effect of a shout (Ex. 86).

Very often the singer’s voice is heard sliding down glissando-

fashion from a high note, musically almost indefinable, to the first

tonally defined note of his song (Ex. 4). On the other hand, the end of

a song may also consist of a loud cry (Ex. 12) or a short high motive.

An upward swing is rare at the beginning of songs of narrow compass,

but quite common when the motive is based on a fourth or fifth,

although it is much commoner in later cultures than in early (Exs. 45,

49, 51, 58, and 66).

Simple transpositions of motive occur even in quite primitive

cultures. They are often simple displacements of the tonal centre

within the same melody (Ex. 27). The Australians, the Marind-

anim of New Guinea, and the inhabitants of the Torres Straits use a

model in which a short motive descends stepwise at each repetition.

By this means the motives are joined to form a unified line (Ex. 17).

Where the motives are longer or the transposition intervals wider, the

repetitions are more clearly separated. At the same time, the motive

can be repeated exactly or freely (Exs. 18 and 19), with smaller (Exs.

21 and 22) or wider (Exs. 25–26) intervals. If the motive is trans-

posed only once, the ‘two-zone song’ results; this is found in its

simplest form among the Copper Eskimos (Ex. 53). In the later

development of this pattern, the repetition of the theme either merely

follows the shape of the original statement or answers the exposition. The answer is often only metrically related to the theme, while the melodic line goes its own way. Instead of varied repetition, the theme is ‘developed’ (Ex. 108).

The tonal ambit can also be extended by giving more emphasis to the lower notes of the motive in the second exposition or by stretching the melodic material so that in the repetition the closing note is lower than it was in the original statement (Exs. 27–29, and 32). The extended form of the motive obtained by the lowering of the cadence (Ex. 30–48) can then be carried further by transposition (Exs. 31, 38, and 39). Often a progressive breaking away from the motive sets in, so that the last repetition may contain a completely new component phrase (Exs. 32, 35, 40, and 42). The arrangement of Exs. 30–51 shows the increasing intervals between the cadence notes.

In another pattern the voice, while repeating motives of narrow compass, takes a sudden upward or downward leap (Exs. 54–56). These newly acquired notes lead in some cultures to forms of yodelling (Exs. 62 and 134), in others they are linked with the melodic basis in a more continuous fashion (Exs. 57–60). Such patterns may in many cases have led to the songs constructed on the triad. That such forms can also originate independently, however, is shown by the occurrence of fanfare-melodies in cultures in which this pattern does not exist (Exs. 63–65). Here too we find transpositions (Ex. 66) and repetitions within diminished compass (Exs. 72–74). Exs. 67–70 also use motives in contrary movement which divide the song into two parts within the narrowest range. In general these patterns, like the ‘triad’ forms (Exs. 75–82), are not very favourable to a concentration of functions. In these structures based on thirds, fourths, or fifths there is a tendency to utilize the functions contained in the limits imposed by the motive only when the wide-leaping movement becomes somewhat restricted. Exs. 75, 83, and 84 introduce the upper fifth by a stressed second above it. In fourth-motives the relation between the third and fourth is emphasized (Exs. 92 and 93). In fifth-motives the relation between fourth and fifth, or third and fourth, becomes structurally important (Exs. 88–91). This structural wealth within a constant compass seems to represent the highest development of these limited melodies.

Apart from the upward transpositions of motive and the rising curves at the beginning of the ‘triad’ forms, both comparatively rare, upward extension of compass is an historically late product (Exs. 95–97). In early cultures such upward extension is generally very

20

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

small. But it increases when it is introduced by means of a new phrase,

i.e. a new motive (Ex. 94). If this second phrase is followed by the

repetition of the first we have the ternary form ABA. Rising melody is

generally richer in functions than falling. Some patterns are arch-

shaped (Exs. 98–102); others widen their compass by exceptionally

wide leaps (Exs. 103–7).

The last phrase of a song often has a special significance in the

structure. Besides the elastic repetition of the final notes or the trans-

formation of the last exposition of the theme into a free phrase, a

concentric condensation of the thematic substance is common (Exs.

36 and 37). Of particular importance is the cadence in form of an

ostinato motive (Exs. 8, 15, 51, 65, 88, and 145–9), which, unlike

the other sections, is not varied when the stanza is repeated, is often

sung polyphonically, and sometimes slows up the tempo by a third

(Exs. 65 and 147).

ORIGIN OF POLYPHONY

All these patterns which develop the compass by progressive

variants lead to polyphonic forms when they occur simultaneously

with the theme. Polyphony originates when two singers—consciously

or not—perform the same theme in different forms (within a given

pattern). In many cases the varying of the theme is paralleled by a

variation of the words1 (Ex. 147). Primitive melody does not grow

out of harmony; harmony is rather the product of melodic variants.

The attempt to trace the origin of vocal polyphony to chance observa-

tion of consonant intervals emitted by sounding objects must be

rejected for three reasons. First, consonances occur in a perfectly

natural way when the same melody is sung simultaneously by men

and women or children. The frequent alternation of unison with

octave, fifth and fourth, is due to the extent to which these intervals

blend. It seems very doubtful whether an organic polyphony could

develop from these forms, because its geographical distribution sug-

gests that it cannot be any older than canon and the heterophonic

variation (Ex. 110) which exhibits a great number of dissonant

intervals. It would seem that strict parallel motion is devoid of all

possibility of development. For this reason it is found quite unchanged

in primitive and late cultures alike. Secondly, even if consonance

were a necessary precondition for the creation of polyphony, its

discovery could not have been due to musical instruments, since

melodic instruments are historically far younger than vocal polyphony.

1 M. Schneider, ‘Gesänge aus Uganda’, Archiv für Musikforschung, ii (1937), p. 185,

ex. 29.

The distribution of polyphonic singing also shows that (apart from chance parallelism and the musically undeveloped drone) the 'chance discovery' of consonance must have been confined to the white and black races, while it is just in those regions where gongs originated—that no vocal polyphony exists. Thirdly, such an organic structure as canon could never have arisen from the chance observation of consonance; yet canon is one of the most primitive forms of polyphony. These things arose spontaneously and cannot be explained in a mechanical fashion. Canon, which develops from the idea of following and hunting, was still called chasse or caccia in medieval Europe. Song and bodily movement are so closely related among primitive peoples that it seems completely misguided to attempt to explain their spontaneous musical creation by speculative methods.

Ex. 110, belonging as it does to a very primitive cultural stratum, proves that the oldest polyphony occurs without the use of consonant intervals at all. This kind of polyphony exhibits a special development, springing from strong emphasis on the individual. Acoustically it aims rather at the fusion of noises than at the pure concord of definite notes. In the concerted imitation of natural sounds (see p. 9) each singer adopts the voice of his own totem quite independently of the other performers, yet the total impression is entirely pleasing to the ear and just as 'harmonious' as when we hear simultaneously the song of birds, the buzz of insects, and the rippling of a stream. Atonal polyphony achieves a special form in concerted instrumental music.

Canon is one of the oldest patterns of vocal polyphony. Among the Kenta (pyg­mies of the Malay Peninsula, cf. Ex. 112) the imita­tion is usually very strict. The same applies to their neighbours, the Sakai. The African pygmies and bushmen use a more or less free imitation (Exs. 111 and 114). On the island of Flores, where many remnants of ancient Papuan tribes survive, the canon is sometimes worked out over a third free part or over a drone (Ex. 113)—the pes of the canonic forms of medieval Europe. In contrast with the small intervals before the imitative entries in these examples, among the Badiki of the primeval African forest (Ex. 115), in the head-hunting songs of the Naga (Ex. 117), in the Congo, in the Solomons and in Samoa (Ex. 116) we find forms in which the voices enter at longer distances.

If the theme is repeated simultaneously (instead of canonically) and strictly, parallel parts result (Exs. 118–20). Often two voices first proceed in unison until they separate through each placing a different

22

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

functional interpretation on a certain note. The extremely wide geographical distribution of parallelism in fourths and fifths may go back to the ancient Negroid patriarchal (old Sudanese) cultures. Among the pygmy and hunting tribes and in the Solomons it is usually mixed with elements of descant (Exs. 124, 127, and 128–30). Parallelism asserts itself throughout history with the utmost tenacity and we still find it in the Caucasus and in Europe (Exs. 121, 122, and 127). It may be doubted whether parallelism in thirds is really so recent as is generally supposed, since it occurs in the middle cultures (Exs. 126 and 133). Parallelism in seconds possibly represents the debased product of a highly developed culture1 (Ex. 125). The alternation of fourths and thirds (Exs. 131–3) is extraordinarily widespread, as is also parallelism within tonal limits, i.e. a vocal parallelism interrupted at the points where its bitonal implication would disturb the unity of the phrase by introducing notes foreign to the tonal system. The harmonic system which has developed particularly strongly in Africa is closely connected with the development of the tonal system. The new notes which are added by polyphony to the canto fermo represent functional variants of the melodic notes within the given key; and just as every mode contains in itself the melodic functions of the preceding ‘key’ (see p. 17), so also every ‘key’ comprises the harmonic possibilities of the preceding scale.2

Intervals

f mode. Notes

c mode. g (2)4(56) (b) 235 34(57) a 234(5) 235[c] (2)4(56) c 234(5)d 34(57) d (e) 34 e 235 [f] 234(5) g 34 a c

g mode. (g) a b 235 34(57) e 2345 235 f [g] 234 a b c

d mode. (2)4(56) a 234(5) 235[d] 2345 e 235 f 4 g 234 a c

If the simultaneous repetition of the melody is varied by contrary motion, a kind of descant appears (Exs. 134 and 135) which gradually develops into higher forms (Exs. 136–9). According to whether the linear or the harmonic element is predominant, polyphonic or chordal forms arise. In the Caucasus a choir is often contrasted with a solo yodeller. Broad series of triads are found in Indo-China, in the Caucasus, and in Europe (Exs. 140–3). In the primitive and middle cultures the endings of the songs often show a striking consistency, while the other sections vary greatly in each verse. These closes—

1 M. Schneider, El origen musical de los animales simbolos (Barcelona, 1946), p. 239.

2 The bracketed intervals are found less often.

ostinato-like in effect—are very often accompanied by the choir

(Exs. 144, 145, and 148) or left to it entirely. If this ostinato overlaps

with the solo voices a special form of polyphony results, as seen in

Ex. 146. A further development, suggesting a primitive form of

chaconne, is shown in Exs. 150–2 which are taken from the shepherds

of Ruanda, the Ossetes of the Caucasus, and from medieval polyphony

(Codex de Las Huelgas).1

The very ancient drone form (Exs. 153–9) is as persistent as parallel

harmony but with greater possibilities of development. To this too,

an element of descant is very soon added. The long note held by the

choir (Exs. 160 and 161), as well as the short, repeated motive, appears

also in instrumental music (Ex. 162). The drone of the bagpipe, how-

ever, belongs to the higher civilizations.

VARIATION AND TYPES OF MELODY

The patterns described above appear in different forms according

to the musical energies which pervade them. These different aspects

must now be described in greater detail from the point of view of

variation and types of melody. The term ‘variation’ will be used to

cover all methods of continuing a given theme, although in later

cultures a kind of thematic development is already found alongside

the original variation form. By using the term ‘variation’ in this wider

sense we shall absolve ourselves from a hopeless attempt to establish

the extremely fluid boundary beyond which a given phrase can no

longer be regarded as a mere variant (a1) of a theme (a) but must be

interpreted as a new phrase (b). It is particularly difficult to define

this boundary in primitive music because the purely rhythmic element

is so much more important than the specifically melodic. What is

really repeated or developed in the continuation is the rhythm of the

motive. In early and middle cultures the simple repetition of the metri-

cal pattern takes second place and that of the melodic line third.

Therefore in analysing primitive melodies the varied repetition (a1) of

the motive (a) must be interpreted more freely than in many songs

found in highly developed cultures. A motive, the rhythm or melodic

line of which is considerably modified in the repetition, must not be

interpreted too hastily as a really new phrase (b) since the essence of

continuation in primitive music consists in variation and in progres-

sive breaking away from the given motive rather than in the thematic

contrast of the phrases.

1 The examples are published in full in M. Schneider, ‘A propósito del influjo árabe’,

Anuario musical del Instituto Español de Musicología, i (1946), exs. 61 and 61a.

24

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

The melodic type is determined by the dynamic expressed in the subject and its continuation. The variation reinforces and develops in the continuation the thought presented by the theme; how this is done depends on the particular type of melody. Although some types of melody are very closely connected with certain forms of movement (time) or patterns (space) (Exs. 46 and 47), the metrical or linear aspects of a theme do not determine the type of melody to which it belongs, nor does the ambit. The typological affinity of two melodies often becomes more apparent only when similar metrical patterns and melodic curves join the same dynamic (Exs. 99 and 100). But the type is revealed above all in performance and in the particular way in which metre and melodic line coalesce in the rhythm. On paper it can be grasped only incompletely, but the ear detects it immediately. The same melodic idea, appearing simultaneously in the music of two different peoples, can be used by each of them in a different type (Exs. 148 and 149).1 On the other hand, the same type may appear in two different melodies although the actual notes may have little in common. Just as, for example, pastorales, gigues, or spiritually kindred human beings emit the same kind of atmosphere, so typological affinity between different melodies is based on a common atmosphere which cannot be defined by the actual notes or by weight or measurement, but by any musician should be able to recognize.

The subject broached here offers one of the most important fields for future research in comparative musicology. Hitherto, melodic types have been defined according to ‘the most obvious characteristics of the particular melody’ (Hornbostel). The criteria employed have included that of compass (‘narrow’ melodies, melodies in fourths, ‘triad’ forms) or spatial concepts (steplike melodies, terraced melodies, leaping melodies). But these designations cover only part of what is understood by the whole complex of a melodic type. Thus Hornbostel by ‘narrow melody’ (enge Melodik) really meant only the narrowest primitive melodies performed in a fairly free rhythm. ‘Fanfare melody’ means a particular style found among pygmies, but it does not include by any means every kind of fanfare-like song. With a few exceptions (for example, in tritone melodies) interval-structure is a bad criterion for determining melodic type, because it is too general. In the present description of primitive music the concept of space has therefore been excluded in defining types of melody.

1 A few years after the publication of the essay on ‘Wandernde Melodien’ in Archiv für Musikforschung, iii (1938), p. 363, the author played the melody of Ex. 148 to a Ewe man on the gramophone. As soon as the Negro heard the song, he claimed to know it very well and sang Ex. 149.

VARIATION AND TYPES OF MELODY

25

Since metrical pattern is equally inadequate as a criterion, all we can do in the present stage of research is to collate melodies which appear to be related dynamically in some way or other1 and to abstain from a specific terminology. It might be useful, however, to revert to the Indian conception of râgas,2 according to which a type of melody is defined not by technical criteria but by its locality and definite poetic mood-content. The criteria proposed by Dincser3 for the classification of variants:

Isomelodic–isorhythmic–isochronic–isometrical—or heteromelodic–heterorhythmic–heterochronic–heterometrical

exclude any such fusion of musical and extra-musical elements. This attempt to establish a uniform terminology and an exhaustive classification of types of melody is to be welcomed. But the classification suggested is too formal: it separates things that essentially belong together. And its categories are too rudimentary for serious research. They cover only the external characteristics and omit the most important aspect of all: the dynamic nature, in other words, the quality of the melody.

Since acoustic feeling has no terminology of its own but has to borrow concepts usually applied to the other senses (we have to speak of sounds as being light or dark, hard or soft) this terminology is bound to encroach on non-musical fields. Taking fellah songs as an example, I have shown4 how in different melodic expressions of the same basic type the intensity may fluctuate or remain constant, how some variants may have strong or weak tonal relief, and how some parts may be constant in all versions and others continually varied; this was an attempt to work out the various forms of expression of a qualitative (dynamic) kind that are possible within a given type of melody, bearing in mind, however, that the growth of a melody is absolutely biological. It is only from such criteria that we can infer the nature of the type by which the variants are determined. By adopting this kind of terminology one is not escaping into a ‘foreign range of ideas inapplicable to music’ but merely accepting a make-shift which it is impossible to do without unless one is prepared to rest content with purely external, quantitative (and therefore, from a

1 Cf. W. Wiora, ‘Alpenländische Liedweisen der Frühzeit’ in Festschrift für John Meier (Lahr, 1949); and M. Schneider, ‘Lieder ägyptischer Bauern’, in Festschrift für Kodály (Budapest, 1942) and ‘A propósito del influjo árabe’ and ‘La canción de cuna’ in Anuario musical, i (1946) and iii (1948).

2 See Chap. IV.

3 O. Dincser, Die Probleme der Varianten in der Volksmusikforschung (Geneva, 1947).

4 M. Schneider, ‘Lieder ägyptischer Bauern’, in Festschrift für Kodály.

26

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

typological standpoint, secondary) criteria of form. The term 'iso-melodic' which Dincser suggests using for two similar (typologically identical) melodies, the notes of which are different,1 is misleading since it ignores the most important thing of all: the existence of characteristic turns of phrase (variants) which are different in two songs although they belong to the same type. The great difficulty in all typology is establishing the dividing-line beyond which the variant of a melody deviates qualitatively so forcibly from the model that it can no longer be assigned to the same type.

Although the all-important acoustic impression cannot be reproduced here, an attempt must be made to show by a few obvious examples how the various types fashion the theme and its continuation in their own particular way. (If in the following lines examples of similar compass are grouped together, despite earlier insistence that compass is inessential, this is done in order to show the great differences that can exist within the same model.) Even in the most primitive cultures two basic forms of melody are to be found. The one proceeds from a clearly defined melodic idea which it varies in the course of the song. In the second form it is impossible to separate the primary idea from the variation since the entire song does not proceed from an idea clearly expounded at the beginning but expresses in constantly changing forms an idea that is never absolutely stable (Ex. 92). If the idea is clearly and concisely formulated at all, this formulation often occurs only during, or at the end of, the song.

The more primitive the models, the less differentiated they will be in type and in the working out of the musical idea. Songs such as Exs. 1, 2, and 27 occur very frequently in early cultures. In rather more developed cultures they often take on a definite metrical form (Exs. 3, 9, and 28), but both styles persist side by side right into advanced cultures. The same is true of purely recitative 'songs' (Exs. 5 and 6).

If one studies how different principles of continuation are applied in the various models, one often finds only a slight typological relationship between melodies based on the same model. In the examples where the compass is abbreviated (Exs. 10–16 and 72–74) only Exs. 13 and 14 or 72 and 73 seem to be related typologically. The songs of which the compass is formed by transposition or lowering the cadence (Exs. 17–52) fall into various groups. There seems to be a dynamic relationship between Exs. 17, 18, and 21; 30 and 31; 19, 32, 33, and (to some extent) 107. On the other hand Exs. 50 and

1 Dincser, op. cit., p. 85.

VARIATION AND TYPES OF MELODY

51 differ completely in their rhythmic patterns although they follow

the same model so far as compass is concerned. Exs. 20, 34, and 58

are closely related although the last belongs to a different model.

Exs. 25, 26, 39, 40, and 47 also belong to each other so far as type is

concerned. Ex. 40 which, in pattern, is very much like Ex. 39, never-

theless belongs to the same type as Ex. 41. Exs. 23, 42, and 65 (which

last belongs to another ambit-group) form a separate dynamic group

of their own. Despite the very similar melodic outlines, Exs. 81 and

82, and 83 and 84, are not related dynamically. On the other hand,

there is a typological relationship between Exs. 78 and 79; 80 and 81;

59 and 88; 56 and 68; 69 and 70; 72 and 73. Despite the similarity of

the models on which Exs. 54, 55, 57, 59, and 60 are based, only the

first two seem to show some typological affinity. The dynamic

relationships are closer in the extended melodies of Exs. 92 and 93,

99 and 100, 103 and 104, 105 and 106.

It seems as if the more intensely specialized melodic types are bound

up with certain racial factors; otherwise it is difficult to explain the

coincidence of identical types found in America and Asia, Europe

or Australia, the relationships between Bushmen and Lapps or the

similarity between songs found in Indo-China and India proper,

Pamir, Afghanistan, and Central Asia and songs from Europe and

the Caucasus. It is difficult to accept the theory of cultural exchange

as an explanation, since the geographical distribution of these songs

coincides more with areas of similar race than with those of similar

culture. In fact, the innermost essence of the more intensely specialized

types of song cannot be transmitted at all, that is to say, cannot be

imitated, since the dynamic and the vocal timbre which is inseparably

bound up with it cannot be acquired by learning. However note-

perfectly a European may sing a Bedouin song, he will still be unable

to reproduce the essence of the type since the notation merely

represents the last and external result of the type. The European will

inevitably reproduce the song in one of the types with which he is

familiar. How deeply the type is rooted in men's constitution can be

seen by the fact that even within the confines of the Iberian Peninsula

a Spaniard from the north is incapable of singing correctly the highly

specialized cante jondo of Andalusia. Admittedly there are particu-

larly gifted individuals of great adaptability who succeed, after year-

long contact with a foreign musical culture, in acquiring its songs

to a high degree. But the expert will never mistake such an outsider

for a native singer.

The virtuosity of a few foreign individuals exerts only a very small

28

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

influence on folk-music. Melodic types migrate only when the people

themselves migrate. It is certainly a great error to imagine that,

wherever some foreign utensil or cultural object has been introduced,

the corresponding music must inevitably have been adopted as well.

Songs do not travel as easily as carpets, vases, or ornaments, because

they are bound up much more intensely with the 'owner'.

The composition of a primitive song is also closely connected with

the melodic type. There is no doubt that a song proceeds from a

particular individual. Nevertheless almost every primitive composi-

tion is still in some way a collective work, since the folk-musician

composes very much in accordance with definite moulds. In Exs. 92

and 93 it is the fourth and the strongly accented leading note, in

Exs. 46 and 47 the metre which provides the model. The writer once

observed three Duala Negroes composing a song together. One of

them invented a short motive and also the words: 'The stranger has

invited us to drink.' To begin with, the motive had a fixed metre but

little melodic shape. Then all three sang the motive, each in a some-

what different melodic shape, and very gradually, after endless

repetitions, a quite charming motive emerged. The three following

phrases were then quickly added, since they merely varied the motive.

When the song was finished it represented no more than a fresh

melodic expression of a familiar metrical formula. In his book on the

Andaman Islanders, A. R. Brown writes: 'A man composes his

song as he cuts a canoe or a bow or as he paddles a canoe, singing

it over softly to himself, until he is satisfied with it.'1

HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT

It is very difficult to discern a historical process at work in any

given primitive race; at best one can do so only for a comparatively

short period. A song considered 'as old as the world' often turns out

to be no more than two generations old. If the whole range of primi-

tive music is studied in the context of the early cultural development of

mankind, however, the results are more promising. In any given

people there is hardly ever a straightforward process of development,

with primitive forms being displaced by higher ones. In the 'pyramid

of civilization' the various elements are superimposed on one another

rather than progressively displaced. Admittedly, a particular stratum

can become completely forgotten but normally what happens is that

as the variety of musical forms and styles increases each layer is

allotted a certain place where it can continue to thrive. In the middle

1 A. R. Brown, The Andaman Islanders (London, 1933), p. 132.

HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT

29

cultures where the new forms are usually secular songs, the old songs

pass into the religious field or become children's or women's songs.

Native elements and those borrowed from other cultures often exist

side by side within one tribe. Nevertheless, foreign forms are not

adopted so much as is generally supposed. Even when two races of

different culture are in constant economic or military contact there

is little evidence that they adopt each other's musical forms. It is true

that a tribe that is stronger economically or militarily often uses

musicians from subject tribes for its festivities (for example, the

pastoral tribes of Ruanda make use of pygmies), but the degree of

reciprocal influence appears to be relatively small. Even when foreign

musical instruments are adopted, the relevant literature seems to be

taken over only to a small extent or in mutilated form.

If the whole complex of primitive music is surveyed, a number of

historical characteristics can be discerned according to the degree

of cultural development. Most of the ambit-patterns appear in early

cultures but their application is at first limited, gradually developing

later. The dynamic element which gives life to the pattern determines

the type of melody and thereby the special historical and geographical

development of the elementary model. Thus, according to the culture

in which it occurs, a pattern which circles round a central note may

become a recitative which is interrupted now by a high note, now by a

low one (Exs. 53-55), or it may develop into a gently oscillating song

(Exs. 59, 60, and 88). In the evolution of the more highly specialized

types, certain patterns will be highly developed while others will fall

into the background. Thus the 'transposition' pattern is far more

significant in Australia and America than in Africa. Among the Red

Indians double or triple transposition is one of the commonest

methods of continuation, while the Negroes (in so far as they use

the method at all) usually content themselves with a single trans-

position (Ex. 22). On the other hand, they use not only successive but

simultaneous transposition, producing polyphony (Exs. 119 and 120).

Where the patterns are realized in a primitive fashion, the European

generally finds them easy to understand since they reflect rudimentary

musical thought. On the other hand, where they are used within a

highly specialized type of melody, the idea that music is an inter-

nationally comprehensible language is exposed as an utter illusion;

such melodies can be approached only by way of careful analysis.

The absolutely unlimited wealth of rhythm revealed in the songs

of primitive cultures is very striking. In later cultures, however, there

is a strong tendency to organize the rhythm by devising definite

30

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

metrical schemes. Fixed metrical formulas become to a certain extent moulds into which the melodic material is forced. These schemes can sometimes be so complicated and extensive (Exs. 51 and 101) that they appear to be free rhythms; but close observation of the repeated stanzas will show that the rhythmic patterns are in fact organized.

There is no evolutionary relationship between tonal and atonal music. Both forms occur very early side by side. It is true that atonal is gradually displaced by tonal music, but even in highly developed cultures it survives in recitative and in songs in praise of the dead or of animal gods.

In the phrase-construction the form a a′ a″ predominates. To the modest extent that primitive music allows, the development to ab, abc, and aba forms is already found in early cultures. The form ab appears to develop quite as much from a phrase a with an epilogue in the form of a shout or ostinato, as from the progressive differentiation of the repetitions of the motive. Fundamentally all musical forms are present in embryo in primitive cultures. Evolution proceeds essentially by the extension of the application of the given principles. The original patterns are moulded in many different ways: the rhythms extend over longer phrases or become more regular, the melodic phrases are given a wider span. The bi-partite Exs. 69 and 70 show concisely what Ex. 108 exhibits over a wider area. The transposition of Exs. 17 and 18 appears in an extended form in the numbers that follow. The progressive condensation of the series of functional parts is particularly important. Primitive themes are mostly very even, functionally, since their melodic lines often persist in the same function for a long time or because the contrast between two functions is only rarely emphasized by a metrically distinguished place. Even the different positions in which the motive appears when transposed are not always able to break up the dead level of the series of functional parts. The close series of melodic functions is best developed in melodies in which the compass is medium and constant in range (Exs. 87–93), or in spacious ascending melodies (Exs. 96 and 97). In the songs of late cultures the individual phrase is usually longer, and divides itself into two sub-groups.

It is only very slowly that the short motive with its varied repetition is replaced by a real theme developing consistently in the course of the song and leading to a new phrase which can be called the complement or answer. It is true that a tendency towards this process appears very early on (Exs. 69, 70, and 94) but it is not really applied until comparatively late (Exs. 95–97 and 101).

HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT

31

Since some scholars have attempted to make a widening of the compass a criterion of historical progress it must be emphasized that wide and narrow compasses are found in almost all cultures. It must also be remembered that wide fanfare-like melodies and transposition are found in very early cultures. An attempt to classify the music of primitive races according to the concept of cultural cycles has been published by Werner Danckert.1

MUSIC AND SPEECH

There is no doubt that in the earliest cultures words and music are closely associated. The few reliable transcriptions of melodies and words available show that—except in purely syllabic songs—the smallest alteration in the words leads to a modification in the melody. In recitative and the mythological narratives, in which the melody often has a stronger curve, the relationship between music and words is different because the text predominates and the musical form is of secondary importance. A certain balance between music and words is sometimes attained by interpolating mystic syllables in the text, thus dividing the song into regular periods.

Often the text consists of merely a few words repeated over and over again, like the motive itself. In Ex. 13 the words ‘The frog leaps’ are constantly reiterated. Certain vowels or sonorous consonants sometimes take the place of actual words. A shout, or a few words expressing a wish, a surprise, a name or a short proverb, often constitute the entire text of a song. The result is that in primitive cultures the musical form is often more highly developed than that of the text. The whole emotional content of the text seems to be sustained entirely by the rhythm of the music. The broader the melodies and the words, the more the realistic expression of the words through song gives way to purely musical line-drawing and the close connexion between words and music is relaxed. Strophic forms or different words set to the same melodies are found particularly where the repetition of the melody is not very consistent. The Chippewa take the view that new words may not be set to old melodies unless the subject-matter is the same.2

Many of the texts are quite unintelligible to the uninitiated because they often presuppose the knowledge of some story, event or custom. When the Californian witch doctor says ‘In Dalmona I dig up the earth and find nothing but rotten turnips’, one has to know that

1 Anthropos, xxxii (1937), p. 1.

2 Frances Densmore, Chippewa Music, i (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 45), (Washington, 1910), p. 2.

32

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

rottenness stands for disease and that in Dalmona the earth and the sick are both beaten with a digging stick.1 Frances Densmore has published a song2 sung by a grandmother to a child: ‘Say to me m m m and that I belong to you.’ Here the consonant m is a sign of love.

A very special relationship between music and speech occurs in the sound-languages3 where the meaning of a word stem depends on the level and direction of the intonation in which it is spoken (for example, be = to hide oneself; bè = to speak; bé = to take out). My researches on Ewe texts,4 Chinese songs and those of the African Batswa, have led me to the conclusion that there is certainly a direct correspondence between the high, medium, and low notes in speech and in music, though established rules may in many cases destroy it. Where there is a direct correspondence, the musical intervals move in the same direction as the speech intervals but differ in size. Normally the intervals are wider in song. Moreover, the tonal basis (from which the concepts ‘high’ and ‘low’ are derived) may be transposed in the course of the song (Ex. 43). An uninterrupted succession of high notes in speech will either keep to the same level in music or form a slowly ascending melodic line. In the case of low notes exactly the reverse applies. The most important rule is that notes that are high in speech can be low in music, if they coincide with a metrically emphasized point in the song. Similarly, low notes of speech can be high in music if they come on an unaccented beat in the song (Ex. 16).

INSTRUMENTAL ‘LANGUAGE’

The ‘language’ spoken by flutes, drums, and horns also appears to be closely connected with sound-language. Herzog5 gives the melody played on an African horn (Ex. 174) in which speech curves are reproduced. The Bubi of Fernando Po speak into a calabash on which they are able to reproduce five tones of their language.6 The whistle language (on mouth pipes)7 which Baumann regards as an

1 J. d’Angulo and E. d’Harcourt, ‘La Musique des Indiens de la Californie du Nord’, in Journal des Américanistes, xxiii (1931), p. 203.

2 F. Densmore, Nootka and Quileute Music (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 124) (Washington, 1939), pp. 277–8.

3 G. Herzog, ‘Speech Melody and Primitive Music’, in Musical Quarterly, xx (1934), p. 452.

4 M. Schneider, ‘Phonetische u. metrische Korrelationen bei gesprochenen u. gesungenen Ewe Texten’ in Archiv fur vergleichende Phonetik, vii (1941 ?), and ‘La relation entre la musique et le langage dans la chanson chinoise’, Annuario musical, v (1950), p. 62.

5 Op. cit., p. 455.

6 G. Tessmann, Die Bubi auf Fernando Po (Darmstadt, 1923), p. 31.

7 J. Beecham, The Ashanti (London, 1841), p. 168; Bibliotéca Canaria, El lenguaje

INSTRUMENTAL ‘LANGUAGE’

33

element of hunting cultures1 and the flute music which represents the

beginning of programme music both reproduce speech rhythms and

modulations in musical form. R. S. Rattray2 has established that the

difference in pitch between two skin-drums used for transmitting news

corresponds to the high- and low-pitched vowels of ordinary speech.

Eboué also considers that drum language is an exact imitation of

speech rhythm3 (Ex. 175). Heinitz has emphasized the significance of

the reproduction of the ‘dynamic profile’ of the spoken phrase, and

I myself have drawn attention to the differentiation of vowel-sounds

and the connexion with the sound-laws which condition the relation-

ship between speech and melody-function.4 There are evidently also

pure ideograms such as those of the Nor-Papuas published by

Father J. G. Schmidt5 (Ex. 176). It is probable that these speech forms

originally represented some kind of secret language or language of

respect. In any case it is significant that the African Twi and Ewe do

not utter the praise-names of their gods in speech but only beat them

on their drums.6

THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS (see plates 1 and 2)

The rhythmic articulation of time by means of an instrument of

some kind is far older than the construction of a true musical instru-

ment. Any object that primitive man happens to pick up when sing-

ing or dancing becomes a sound-producing ‘musical instrument’.

Implements used exclusively as musical instruments and for no

other purpose develop only very slowly. Many instruments (for

example, the pot-drum) are merely adaptations of already existing

utensils.

As the instruments used by primitive man have already been in-

vestigated more thoroughly than his vocal music it will suffice to

describe only the most important types. The ideas associated with

silbado en la Gomera; R. Ricard, A propos du langage sifflé des Canaris (Hesperis, 1932),

p. 140.

1 H. Baumann, ‘Afrikanische Wild- und Buschgeister’, in Zeitschrift für Ethnologie,

lxx (1938), p. 226.

2 R. S. Rattray, The Ashanti (Oxford, 1923), pp. 242-86.

3 M. Eboué, Les Peuples du Oubanghi-Chari (Paris, 1933), pp. 80 and 94; H.

Labouret, ‘Le Langage tambouriné et sifflé’, Bulletin du comité d’études de l’Afrique

occidentale française, (1923), pp. 120-58.

4 W. Heinitz, ‘Probleme der afrikanischen Trommelsprache’, Beiträge zur Kolonial-

forschung, lv (1942), p. 69; M. Schneider, ‘Zur Trommelsprache der Duala’, Anthropos,

xlvii (1952), p. 235.

5 J. G. Schmidt, ‘Neue Beiträge zur Ethnologie der Nor-Papuas’, Anthropos, xxviii

(1933), p. 330.

6 D. Westermann, ‘So, der Gewittergott der Ewe’, Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, lxx

(1938), p. 154.

B 3608

D

34

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

them will be dealt with later.1 Curt Sachs's History of Musical Instru-

ments2 gives a classification on morphological lines, and the same

author has described the cultural and geographical distribution and

morphology of primitive instruments in greater detail in his Geist

und Werden der Musikinstrumente.3 In his Origines des instruments de

musique,4 Schaeffner has given a classification based on the materials

used in their construction, while Montandon has preferred to classify

them according to the method used in playing them.5 Kirby's The

Musical Instruments of the Native Races of South Africa6 contains the

richest collection of primitive instrumental music published so far.

Idiophones. The practice of beating the body with the hands or with

some object appears to be transferred very early to the beating of

horizontal tree-trunks and bamboos and to stamping on the ground.

Jumping on or beating a springy plank ('dancing tree') or an animal

skin laid across a hole in the ground is an early specialization of the

process. If a tree-trunk is split open and hollowed out lengthwise

like a canoe, the result is a slit-drum (often carved in the likeness of a

man) which is played either with the feet or with two sticks. The

ritual significance of the slit-drum will be discussed later. Its secular

purpose is the transmission of news ('drum language'), and to obtain

the necessary variations of pitch, the drum is beaten in different places

or tongue-shaped strips of different thicknesses are detached from

the side. In the course of evolution, instruments originally made

2 to 7 metres long are reduced to hand-drums and finally to wooden

bells.7

Stamping on the ground leads to the construction of special

'stamping sticks', which are used to beat the ground during a dance,

and thin bamboo tubes which are commonly used in pairs of different

length, thus producing different notes. When struck against a sheet of

water, they produce a loud and sombre sound. Another way of

producing sounds is by scraping the rough parts of sticks, tubes, or

receptacles against some suitable object; human and animal bones,

bamboo reeds, and shells are used for preference.

Idiophones can not only be beaten or scraped; they can be shaken.

Shaking has led to the construction of the extremely numerous types

of rattle. To make the rhythm of the dance audible, various small,

hard objects, such as sea-shells, bones, teeth, coconut-shells, are

strung together and hung on the human body. Rattles are also made

1 See p. 51.

3 Berlin, 1929.

5 G. Montandon, La Généalogie des instruments de musique (Geneva, 1919).

6 Oxford, 1934.

2 New York, 1940.

4 Paris, 1936.

7 Sachs, Geist und Werden, p. 47.

PLATE I

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

(e)

PRIMITIVE INSTRUMENTS

(a) Xylophone ( 1 ); (b) Slit drum ( ); (c) Zither ( ); (d) Rattle ( ); (e) Zansa ( )

For further details see page xiii.

THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

35

by filling the rinds of gourds, animal skins, or clay vessels with grains

of corn, stones, or magic objects and fixing handles to them. The

rattling objects may also be strung on a ring or enclosed in a hollow

staff. Priests use rattle-staves of this kind as a token of authority and

they are also used in dancing. In Indonesia staves filled with grain

are used as seed-drills.1 Small bells made from the bodies of animals

or fruit rinds are closely akin to rattles. Only small types of metal

bells are found in primitive cultures; they are often used in pairs

connected by a ring.

Whereas plucking as a sound-producing method for idiophones

has led only to the jews' harp and the African zansa (which consists of

strips of wood or iron fastened to a board, keyboard fashion, and

plucked), the evolution of percussion has resulted in the construction

of a much greater range of instruments. These include two sticks

beaten against each other, wooden bats, and bell-like objects struck

against each other; cymbals were probably first adopted from more

highly developed cultures. The earliest forms of xylophone are also

found in primitive cultures. The prototype consists of two pieces

of hard wood which the player, seated on the ground with legs

extended and spread, places on the upper part of his thigh and beats

with two clubs; later on, two banana stems are used instead of the

thigh. Holes in the ground or gourds under the wooden bars act as

resonators. The xylophone is used not only to accompany but also

to play instrumental works in one or more parts (Exs. 164 and 169);

it seems to be regarded as an all-purpose instrument, rather like the

modern piano, for its literature includes many arrangements of songs

and pieces for drums and flutes;2 it is also used for programme music.3

Of the other percussion instruments, only the lithophone is found in

early cultures. The gong, which has been developed by higher cultures,

represents an advanced element in the later farming cultures.

Membranophones. The oldest forms are produced by stretching a

skin over a tube, coconut, gourd, or bowl. All the early types are

struck by hand only. In comparatively early cultures we find a drum

the narrow middle section of which is spanned by a handle. This one-

skin drum, shaped like an hour-glass, perhaps originally looked like

a funnel or mortar. The two-skin drum of this type was not developed

until later. The skin stretched across a round, hexagonal, or oval

wooden frame is often found in the hands of witch-doctors, hence

the name 'shaman drum'. The wooden hoop, which sometimes has

1 Ibid., p. 121.

2 Kirby, op. cit., p. 56.

3 S. Nadel, Marimbamusik (Vienna, 1931).

36

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

a handle, is criss-crossed by strings. The skin is struck with a beater,

often made in the shape of a knife. Cask-like receptacles made of

clay, covered by a skin stretched across with strings, are always

beaten with the hands, whereas the bellied wooden drums, whose

skins are nailed on, are played with sticks. They are usually fixed

to a post or hung up on a cross-beam. Their side-handles and the

fact that they are occasionally filled with rice, suggests that the

instrument was originally used for a practical, not a musical purpose.

In the case of the friction drum, the sound is produced either by a

stick fixed on the skin, or by rubbing with damp fingers a string

knotted through it. Drums usually reproduce the general rhythm of

a song (Exs. 11, 12, and 21). But in many cases they have a tempo of

their own (Exs. 50 and 150), or some formula completely indepen-

dent of the song (Ex. 153).

The last membranophone to call for mention is the mirliton ('kazoo').

This is a fine membrane which vibrates in front of the mouth or at the

open end of a pipe through which the player speaks, sings, or blows.

Chordophones. String instruments are very little developed in

primitive cultures. Sachs derives the oldest form—the earth-zither—

from a thinned-out wooden pole, beaten with a stick.1 Actually the

oldest type of earth-zither is a 4-metre long rattan reed stretched

horizontally across the ground and joined in the middle with a

membrane, which lies above a small hole in the ground; the player

beats the string with two little sticks (Ex. 163). The earth-bow is a

genuine hunting implement. Its string, which is plucked or struck,

is fastened at one end to a springy stick or tree and at the other to

a piece of bark over a hole in the ground. In the ordinary bow (Ex.

162. the two ends of a flexible stick are connected by a string which

is sometimes cut directly from the outer surface of the stick. To

intensify the extremely soft sound a gourd or earthen pot is usually

attached or the string is held in the mouth. The string is plucked,

struck, or scraped with a stick.

A 'reed zither' is made by taking a narrow strip from the surface of

a halved bamboo reed to form a string, of which only the two ends

remain connected with the reed. The tension of the string is main-

tained by some object placed underneath and it is struck with two

little sticks. In a more highly developed form, strings from the reed

itself are replaced by strings from other sources, stretched across a

board or a bowl. Lyres, lutes, and harps do not appear until the late

farming cultures and then very often in backward forms.

1 Sachs, Geist und Werden, p. 60.

THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

37

Aerophones. The bull-roarer consists of an oval or rectangular wooden board, the upper end of which is fastened to a cord. When the instrument is swung in a circle, it also revolves on its own axis and as the speed increases an extraordinary variety of noises is produced.

The most primitive flutes are made of bones and have up to four finger-holes. The mouth-hole in front or at the side is made by the insertion of a plug into the pipe. When two pipes are combined into a double flute, they are of different length. A flute in which the breath is sent not through a pipe but through a small convex vessel is very widely distributed; the player blows through a round unnotched hole. On the other hand, the round flutes made of clay, which are filled with water, are always notch flutes. The vertical flutes with notches can be divided into three types, according to whether the lower end is open or stopped or whether the stopped end has a hole through the middle. Curt Sachs conjectures that the stopped flutes, which are sometimes as long as 1½ metres, are the oldest.1 The simple vertical flute with no special blowing appliance is historically later than the fipple and notch flutes. The transverse flute stopped at the lower end has some very archaic features. It may be as long as 6 metres and it has a maximum of three finger-holes. To make a double transverse flute, a mouth-hole is bored on both sides of the nodule of a bamboo reed. In many districts vertical, transverse, and vascular flutes are blown through the nose. The flute took a long time to develop into a really melodic instrument. Its primitive forms are scarcely capable of anything beyond signal-calls. The melody is also usually very indefinite in rhythm and somewhat irresolute (Exs. 170–3). Panpipes, on the other hand, exhibit far more definite musical forms. The reeds are sometimes arranged in a single more or less symmetrical row, sometimes they are tied in a bundle or in two rows (Exs. 166 and 168).

In the trumpet family the longish tuba made of wood or reed and the snail- or mussel-shells with a mouth-hole probably represent the oldest types. In the tuba the lips rest directly on the edge of the bore-hole; the player does not so much blow as shout into the pipe. The instrument may also be made from bottle-gourds instead of wood, or, like the alphorn, from a hollow branch of a tree wrapped in bark (Ex. 167). The animal horns which are played in Africa as transverse trumpets, are also very widely distributed (Ex. 174). The oldest clarinets have no finger-holes and are often quite long. The mouth-piece is usually inserted in a gourd or horn.

Singing is often accompanied by a rattle, a drum, a flute (Ex. 173),

1 Ibid., p. 81.

38

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

panpipes, or xylophone. The combination of drum with conch, pipe, horn, flute, or clarinet may be considered ‘classical’. Choirs are often formed of similar instruments. In the drum orchestra (normally four to six instruments) each drum has its own motive (Ex. 175), which usually takes the form of a comment on the idea propounded by the biggest drum. Kirby1 gives the following South African example of the widely distributed panpipe orchestras: 1. Four to six small reeds, all tuned to the same pitch and played by one performer. 2. Three reeds (the same pitch, one performer). 3. Six reeds (the same pitch, one performer). 4. The player has one or two pipes in his hand. 5. This reed gives the pitch to all the other pipes. Its name means ‘Weeping’. 6. A single pipe, whose name means ‘weeping afterwards’. 7. A single pipe, meaning ‘the cow’. 8. A single pipe. 9. The pipe with the lowest sound.

Ex. 168 gives a specimen of an orchestral hocket.

REPERTORY

Since primitive man sings much more spontaneously than civilized man, the repertory of primitive tribes is considerably more varied than that of art music. As it reflects the whole of life, most of it is ‘occasional’ or ‘utility’ music. Primitive man sings to call out, to play, to mock, to greet someone, to give thanks at the end of a meal. Many of the songs are improvised. Songs can even be sung before a judge; if two men quarrel or a couple want a divorce the contestants will plead alternately in words and more or less improvised songs. Whenever anything unusual happens—whether it be a boatman’s oar falling into the water or a domestic animal running away—primitive man at once gives vent to his feelings in an improvised song.

He also sings at his work. When road-making, working in the fields, or rowing, however, the working man usually confines himself to the ostinato. Often a musician will keep the rhythm of the work going with a drum or oboe instead of song; he is not thought of as an idler but as an important helper. Most of the so-called working-songs are, however, intended for amusement; only a few show any direct connexion with the rhythm of labour. A special genre of working song has evolved among ploughmen, who address their horses or oxen in song.

In love charms the magic formulas are sung. The jocular love-song does not appear till very much later. Songs which celebrate the beauty of the loved one and are often accompanied on the flageolet (Exs. 104

1 Op. cit., p. 138.

PLATE II

PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS

(a) Side-blown trumpet (⅓); (b) Vertical flute (⅓); (c) Conch-shell trumpet (⅓); (d) Palaeolithic whistle (⅔); (e) Globular flute (⅔)

For further details see page xiii.

and 172) are closely connected in style with the songs of praise sung in

honour of the tribal chieftain; both types often refer in their words to

mythological events. But in the market-place even the small man gladly

pays for a song of praise about himself, improvised by a musician

in a voice loud enough for all who pass by to hear. Needless to say, all

popular merrymakings are accompanied by music and dancing.

There is a very extensive repertory of children's songs, cradle songs,

songs to accompany games, songs which describe dreams, and songs

containing riddles or proverbs. All the rites relating to birth, circum-

cision, marriage, hunting, war, weather, medicine, and death are

permeated with musical elements. Among the funeral songs, the

women's laments and the songs which men sing in praise of the dead

deserve special mention.

In primitive cultures it is very difficult to distinguish musically the

various kinds of song since there is still so little differentiation of

form. Often the type of voice used determines the character of a

melody. Funeral songs and erotic songs are often sung in a nasal

voice; love-songs are accompanied by a significant play of the lips.

In more highly developed cultures formal differentiation is usually

determined by the various layers of tradition. An archaic style survives

in animal-songs and hunting-songs, and also in children's songs,

funeral songs, epic songs, and in medicine and weather charms.

Lamentations have a style appropriate to their own nature. In songs

of praise the melodic line tends either to rise emphatically or to start

very high.

It should be noted, however, that the 'literary' approach to song-

classification is not altogether satisfactory. Not every song sung

during a rain ceremony represents a true rain-song, since such cere-

monies are very complex. They include introductory songs, mytho-

logical recitatives, interludes, sacrificial songs, and songs of praise,

and only a small part of the ceremony is occupied by the song that

is intended directly to influence the rain. In the same way, war-songs

are not necessarily intended to incite the listeners to battle; they may

also be protective songs or individual medicine songs. In any attempt

to discover the stylistic qualities of particular types of song, the words

must first be studied very carefully. The relation between the musical

style and the content of the song (i.e. the words) lies not in the external

occasion (rain, war) but in the prevailing psychological tension. If

the witch doctor implores the spirit of disease to release his patient,

the song will be friendly; if he fights it with his spear, the song will be

warlike; yet both will be medicine songs.

40

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MUSICIAN

The many-sided role which music plays in the life of primitive races explains the personal importance of the musician. No girl wants to marry a man unless he can play on the hunter's bow,1 and any girl is particularly proud of her man if he has been victorious in a singing contest. That singer is most highly esteemed who can sing a proverb or saying at the right moment. The arrival of a musician often turns a whole village upside down, and his departure is often accompanied by scenes of lamentation, especially among the women. Scandals between visiting musicians and married women are also a common occurrence.

In spite of all that, good musicians often receive invitations from neighbouring tribes. It is also customary for the musicians to lead a village community when it pays an official call on a neighbouring community and the latter presents the singers and instrumentalists with gifts. The musicians are very often feared, for their song is dangerous. Even if a singer is punished or banished for a satirical song, the effect of the song cannot be checked. Many chieftains take singers into their personal service in order to confirm their authority with a repertory of songs of praise of themselves. Here we have the beginnings of music as a profession.

Songs often represent real capital. When the girls of the Little River Woman Society reach the age limit of 18 years and have to resign, they sell their 'Society songs' to their successors and receive a horse or a dress of buffalo-hide in return.2

The distinction between higher and lower musician appears to go back to the very beginnings of musical history. In the primitive community of the Andaman Islands everyone is allowed to compose his own songs but not everyone is authorized to recite the tribal legends.3 Among the peoples of central Asia the narrator of the tribal myths is often also a shaman. The priest-musician endowed with medical knowledge, whose songs reach the world of the gods, has a distinct role in such communities. Mythological songs must not be paid for in money; in return for their own legends, the Uitotos ask for another sacred legend.4 In the transition to more advanced cultures, musical specialization leads to the distribution of musicians among various

1 Kirby, op. cit., p. 233.

2 Densmore, Mandan and Hidatsa Music (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 80) (Washington, 1923), p. 97.

3 A. R. Brown, op. cit., p. 187.

4 Theodor Preuss. Religion und Mythologie der Uitoto, i (Leipzig, 1921), p. 15.

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MUSICIAN

classes of society. In the Sahel and the western Sudan,1 society is

divided into five castes: aristocrats, bondsmen, smiths, bards, and

inferior musicians. The bards (dialli) are the custodians of lofty epic

art and rank as great warriors. The inferior musicians, on the other

hand, devote themselves to popular entertainment and their task in

war is to goad on the mass of fighting men with their shouts and songs.

Like the court jester of later times, the dialli are privileged to tell their

masters things which others are forbidden to say, whereas the lower

musicians are held in very low esteem. The musician represents the

spiritual world. He is the ‘blacksmith’ of song and in West Africa he

sometimes wears a costume not unlike that of a smith. In Togo the

singer (who is quite distinct from the poet-composer) carries a horse-

tail in each hand as a badge of authority. He is naked to the waist and

his robe is fastened round the loins.2

In general the musician is highly esteemed while practising his art,

because he is regarded as the possessor of a higher power. But he is

also feared, or despised. He is honoured in public but avoided in

private. That he is able to traffic with the world of spirits makes him a

somewhat sinister figure, and the more intensely a community feels

his power the more it tries to keep him at arm’s length. Since it also

needs him, it cannot banish him completely; so it acknowledges him

secretly or openly, yet rejects him because it cannot forgive his superior

powers.

SPIRITUAL CULTURE

So many writers have remarked on the astonishing unity of basic

religious conceptions which underlies all the varied manifestations of

primitive culture in so many different times and places that there is

no need to emphasize it again here. Universal predispositions of spirit

and the same fundamental observations have presumably resulted

everywhere in similar conceptions; myths, symbols, and social

organizations have been the clearest expression of these universal

ideas. The progressive development of the physical and metaphysical

conception of the world can be clearly traced from the earliest cultures

right into the Megalithic Age, and the systematic symbolism of that

age underlies the religious systems of the highly developed cultures.

Some tentative efforts to combine the now disconnected remnants of

these ancient conceptions into an organic whole have already been

made.3 An attempt must be made here to represent the specifically

1 L. Frobenius, Atlantis, vi (Jena, 1921), p. 261.

2 P. Witte, ‘Lieder und Gesänge der Ewe-Neger’, Anthropos, ii (1906), pp. 66-67.

3 Schneider, El origen musical de los animales simbolos and La danza de espadas y la

42

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

musical part of this ancient conception of the world, excluding as far

as possible the contribution of the highly developed cultures, although

it is very difficult to separate these latter elements since, on the one

hand, the religious conceptions of the highly developed cultures

include many primeval constituents and, on the other, many late

elements have been assimilated by primitive cultures.

Music is the seat of secret forces or spirits which can be evoked by

song in order to give man a power which is either higher than himself

or which allows him to rediscover his deepest self. This is true of

'religious' and 'secular' music alike, for no distinction between the

two kinds exists for primitive man, whose whole thinking is essentially

religious or magical. When primitive man sings at his work, the music

serves both to lighten his labour and to appease the spirit of the felled

tree or the gods of the water he is crossing. It is only in later cultures

that the working-song serves a purely practical end.

It has already been mentioned in connexion with totemistic ideas1

that every being has its own sound or its own song, the timbre and

rhythm of which embody the mystic substance of the owner. Just

as the 'personal song', which develops the sound-substance of the

bearer to magical power, is not the melody itself but the personal way

in which it is sung, so here too the term 'sound' is to be understood

not so much as a clearly defined note as a particular inflexion or

characteristic tone-quality. This rhythmical sound is the clue to the

nature and quality of an object. From merely hearing a voice we know

whether it is the voice of a human being and we can even identify the

particular human being and tell whether he is happy or sad, resolute

or undecided, bold or reserved. If we strike a tree or a stone, the

sound produced tells us not only the nature but also the condition of

the tree or stone. We can also tell by merely hearing the blows of an

axe how well it has made its mark.

The mystical sound-substance inherent in all things, manifesting

itself now directly, now indirectly, exists everywhere, even beyond the

range of the normal human ear. The fact that primitive man easily

attributes non-acoustic impressions to acoustic sources (owing to the

unity of his sense-perceptions, or to the priority of his sense of hear-

ing?) substantially widens the field of the rhythmic sound-substances

tarantela (Barcelona, 1946 and 1948); 'Los cantos de lluvia', Anuario musical, iv (1949).

Recent studies by the present writer after the completion of this section have strengthened

the arguments here given. Cf. Schneider, 'Die Bedeutung der Stimme in den alten

Kulturen', Tribus (Jahrbuch des Linden Museums) ii-iii (Stuttgart, 1953), Singende Steine

(Kassel, 1955), and La philosophie de la musique chez les peuples non européens (Paris,

1956).

1 See p. 8.

which can be grasped indirectly. This is particularly facilitated by

his psychological disposition to observe dynamic phenomena more

intensely and to rate them much higher than static ones. When the

sombre sounds and violent rhythms of a tempest convert the waves

of the sea or the bushes of the forest into the likeness of the trampling

and the swaying backs of a herd of animals stampeding down a hillside,

the Duala Negro feels that these three phenomena are dynamically

related and is at once able to reduce them to a common acoustic

denominator by a suitable drum-song. Where the same sounds or

rhythms appear, there also analogous beings are at work.

In view of the inconstancy of the world of form, primitive man

questions the reality of static (spatial) phenomena and believes that

transient (temporal) dynamic rhythms are a better guide to the sub-

stance of things. Hence he calls the same animal or the same tree by

different names (i.e. rhythmic sounds) according to its age, condition,

colour, and so on. Even one and the same person represents entirely

different beings according to whether he acts in anger or kindness, as

friend or foe, or moves like a child or an old man. The primitive

conception of nature has a psychological basis. To the primitive mind

the phenomena here called ‘rhythms’ are spirits, the audible souls

of the dead ancestors who created all things1 and in which they

constantly reincarnate themselves. They are the physical and meta-

physical reality which is the source of all life and all magical song.

In contrast to stones and plants the rhythms and sounds of which

are monorhythmic and therefore have only one meaning, man is

distinguished by his polyrhythmic constitution. The animals come

between these two groups. It is true that man too has his own

unequivocal basic sound, corresponding to the resonator of his out-

ward appearance, but since his resonating surface is not so limited as

that of inanimate nature, he is not only able to produce the sound

peculiar to his own nature but also to imitate non-human rhythms and

sound-colours. In addition, he can imitate sounds artificially since he

makes musical instruments. Thanks to all these abilities, man is able

to develop enormous power; for anyone who knows and can imitate

the specific sound of an object is also in possession of the energy with

which the object is charged. The purpose of magic is to utilize this

indwelling energy (orenda, mana, sila, manitu, kami, &c.) in some

way. The words orenda, mana, and so on denote the power of the

sound-substance which an object emits audibly or otherwise. Orenda

is the growth or the special curative power of plants, the purifying

1 See p. 9.

44

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

power of water, the dynamic power inherent in a song. It becomes

a magic energy whenever it appears to any exceptional degree. The re-

sourceful magician gifted with special vocal powers can control this

energy because he can imitate the sound-substance of the orenda; for,

although it is emitted by spirits or particularly outstanding human

beings, the orenda is an impersonal force which can be communicated,

especially by exhalation or by shooting, to other people or suitable

objects, such as musical instruments, and then withdrawn again. It is

not confined to its bearer.1

By sound-imitation the magician can therefore make himself

master of the energies of growth, of purification or of music without

himself being plant, water, or melody. His art consists first of all in

localizing the object in sound2 and then co-ordinating himself with

it by trying to hit the right note, that is, the note peculiar to the

object concerned. He may attempt to do this by way of a rhythm in

the cadence of its original murmur, by briefly shaking a rattle or by

singing a short musical motive, thereby relating himself to the object

or spirit by sympathetic vibration. If the contact between subject and

object has led, by such musical analogy, to a mystic fusion of both parts,

the sound or the motive will gradually develop into a song. Through

the correct intonation, the spirit is held captive in the magicians’

body and sings through his mouth. But it is the song which the magic-

ian makes from the sound-substance of the spirit and the correspond-

ing visible rites that determine the dynamic and the course of action

which the magician attempts to force on the spirit. The spirit can be

localized and allured by its own personal sound but it can only be

captured, appeased, or overwhelmed by the song developed from its

sound-substance. Admittedly, the visible rites may include analogical

actions, such as the representation of the spirit by a mask, but their

essential purpose is to act on the spirit which the sound-analogy has

evoked. This activity may be expressed by the brandishing of a magic

spear or sword, but it may also be limited to the words which envelop

the sound-substance.

To understand this action of imposing the will on a spirit, it has to

be remembered that for primitive man the world consists of an inter-

action of spirits which think and act like human beings. The spirits

are conceived as fabulous beings (often in the shape of animals)

dwelling in rain-clouds, springs, crevices, dark caverns, under heavy

1 R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, vii (Oxford 1891), p. 119; J. N. B. Hewitt,

‘Orenda’, American Anthropology, iv (1902), p. 33.

2 On localization in rain-ceremonies see Densmore, Papago Music (Bureau of American

Ethnology Bulletin 90) (Washington, 1929), pp. 154-5.

stones, in old trees, or in bamboo reeds. As a particular spirit is

responsible for every disease and a particular healing-song exists to

cure every disease,1 the doctor, after he has localized the cave-

dwelling or the note of the spirit by examining the patient, must try

to establish the name of the spirit, so that he can name it in the magic

song. By means of a song pleasing to the spirit, by shaking a rattle,

or by singing abusive and mocking songs, he entices the spirit from its

dark dwelling-place (that is, from the recesses of the patient's body).

If the spirit appears, that is, if the doctor is possessed by the spirit, the

spirit must be forced to 'confess'. It must name its name, that is,

sacrifice its substance and become a song. Although this sacrifice is

entirely in the nature of the sound, the spirit makes it only on condition

that a return service is offered in the form of a song or a sacrifice and

that the patient patiently endures the suffering involved in the treat-

ment.

The spirit which gives its sound and its name to the healing-song

emerges from the dark cavern into the light, like sound escaping from

a resonator. All the dark dwellings from which the spirits 'look out',

that is to say, emerge in sound,2 are symbols of the sleep that brings

health and purification, of the potential concentrated energy of the

womb and ultimately of the fruitful sacrificial energy of the dead

spirits which are the givers of all life. The ordinary man and the

medicine man both receive their healing songs as a rule from a dead

ancestor who is revealed to them in a dream. When the shaman sings

a healing song, the spirit says to him: 'You are singing a song which

pleases me. It is my song. Therefore I will give you also my power.

If you will care for me, I will care for you. If I hear your song, I will

come.'3 Spirit and medicine man need one another. The shaman

receives his strength from the song, but the ancestor (i.e. the spirit

which causes the disease and takes it away again) also needs to sound

in song. By drawing the sounds of spirits from the dream-cavern and

bringing them to light in the form of a song, the medicine man carries

the spirit, becomes the singing cave, the 'drum', the 'ship', the

'wagon', or 'bird'. The usual expression for this is: 'He carries the

tune.'

In view of the fact that sound represents the original substance of

the world, the singing dream-cavern (which is also symbolized by

1 G. Speck, Ceremonial Songs of the Creek and Yuchi Indians (Philadelphia, 1911),

p. 211; Densmore, Papago Music, p. 88; Music of the Indians of British Columbia, p. 18.

(Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 90 and 136) (Washington, 1929 and 1943);

Schneider, La danza de espadas y la tarantela, p. 47.

2 See p. 49, n. 5. 3 D'Angulo, op. cit., p. 201.

46

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

the moon or by water) constitutes not only the source of musical

inspiration but also the source of Creation. In his Religion und Mytho-

logie der Uitoto Preuss writes:

There is an inexplicable substance which seems to be a phantom and

yet exists in a form hidden from the senses and perceptible only in dreams.

The world came into being when God touched this unreal substance and

as a result of a dream held it fast by a dream-thread which passed through

the breath of his mouth. As he dreamt, he held the substance fast, stamped

on the deceitful ground, and settled on the substance which he had dreamt,

and created heaven and earth by secreting their elements from his body.1

To produce a sound, however, an effort has to be made. The bow-

string has to be stretched and the breath must impinge on a sharp

resisting edge. The ‘ground’ must be ‘stamped down’. All life arises

solely from stampings, from the tension or friction of two opposing

factors, which have to sacrifice their strength and, if need be, their

life for the birth of new life. All new life comes from sacrifice and,

ultimately, from death. Since sound forms the substance of life, the

spirits—that is, the sounding souls of the dead—are the real givers of

life and preservers of the world. The dream-cavern is both the entrance

to the underworld and the source of life. When the cavern sings or

shouts, or the cloud thunders, each is sacrificing and emptying itself,

like a fruit when it reaches maturity. But by giving their fruitful

waters to frightened man, they liberate and regenerate themselves.

When man offers his song or his shout, he purifies himself from the

overripe guest of the cave and thereby helps it (the spirit) to achieve

its full existence, to become sound. Sound is the material expression

of the mutual sacrifice that is enacted between the living and the

dead.

The experience that concentration and effort are necessary for

every creative act led in ancient Indian philosophy to the cosmic idea

of sacrifice. According to this, the world arose from the expiration of

a light-sound, the ‘friction’ (sacrifice) of which created the gods and

the stars, until it finally ‘expanded’ into matter. According to the

Brihadâranyaka Upanishad this original sound was a song in praise

of death or hunger which made all things grow or ‘swell’. The fasting

ascetic acts analogously when he offers the breath of life in singing

or reciting from the ‘cavern of his heart and lungs’. The sacrifice or

‘friction’ is the path or wagon on which man overcomes the dualism

of the world. Since the world can be preserved only by the mutual

sacrifices of the living and the dead, the ascetic can exert the same

1 Op. cit., i, p. 27.

kind of compulsion on the gods as they exert on man.1 In the practical magic which has developed among primitive races from similar ideas, the idea of a balance between the living and the dead is much less pronounced. For primitive man the dead are always the more powerful and he is therefore not afraid to feign sacrifices to mislead the spirits, or to sing them flattering or plaintive songs in order to achieve the desired result.

Although primitive races are not acquainted with the idea of sacrifice in the strict and theoretical form in which it appears in advanced cultures, there is—quite apart from the fact that they are continually making food-offerings, performing ritual war-dances, castigating themselves and fasting—sufficient evidence to suggest that for primitive man, too, light-sound (in particular lightning and thunder), sacrifice, and an immanent dualism are recognized as the beginning of all things. When the gods were still wandering on earth they sang and drummed (= lightened and thundered) in order to create all things in the war-dance (sacrificial dance). These ‘gods’ are probably only sounds or vibrating objects conceived in the forms of human beings or animals. The Australian creator-god created the solid earth by beating the original seas with a reed. At the sound the waters divided and the death-gods came forth from their caves and created men and things.2 In European folk-lore the tradition of the beating of the water is ascribed to witches. The Marind-anim of New Guinea say that God lit a fire of bamboo wood to warm the first freezing (semi-human, semi-fishlike) creature; at the first crackling of the fire the creature’s ears were opened, at the second its eyes, at the third its nostrils, at the fourth its mouth: so man gradually came to life.3 (It is very significant that hearing was the first sense to be created.)

The father-god of the Uitoto created the primeval waters by beating the hollowed-out tree-drum (he was probably one himself).4 The first crocodile created the harmony of the world when it drummed on its hollow belly with its tail.5 Theodor Preuss has already shown that the gods are thought to have produced all created things from their own bodies and, more especially, from their own mouths. Created things are apparently released from the caverns of the divine bodies, just as sound is released from a drum or thunder from a thunder-cloud.

1 Schneider, ‘Die historischen Grundlagen der musikalischen Symbolik’, Die Musik-forschung, iv (1951), p. 113.

2 C. Strehlow, Die Aranda und Loritjastämme, i (Frankfurt, 1907), p. 3.

3 P. Wirz, Die Marind-anim, i, 2 (Hamburg, 1922), p. 185.

4 Preuss, op. cit., p. 29.

5 M. Granet, Danses et légendes de la Chine ancienne, i (Paris, 1926), pp. 263 and 326.

48

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

Music not only creates the world; it also cultivates and preserves it. On the island of Er they say that the first settlers, the original ancestors Pop and Kod, who were probably twins, dwelt in a hollow coral-tree (Erythrina) and made a song; then they climbed down to earth and ‘had connexion on the ground’.1 The custom of promoting the growth of fruit with such instruments as bull-roarers, panpipes, and flutes is very widespread. According to a story told in the Aleutian Islands a girl raised a man from the dead by singing.2 In the language of the Ewe the word lo means both ‘to sing’ and ‘to weave’.

The idea of sacrifice is particularly marked in the cosmic myths according to which the world was created by the self-castigation or self-fertilization of a bisexual god. Sometimes the god is the god of lightning and thunder, sometimes a drum-, tree-, or cave-god. This immanent dualism is also represented by a fighting pair of twins, whose flashing swords and thudding shields produce the creative sound. The idea that this sound can develop only from fighting, castigation, and sacrifice dominates all religious music in primitive cultures. Song is a sounding sacrifice of the breath of life. Women beat the abdomen rhythmically; men beat their arms until the blood spurts. Stretched ox-hides are beaten with an ox-tail. The sound of the drum acquires magic power only when it is ‘heated’ by special songs3 or has been smeared with blood. Often, the drum must be beaten until the skin bursts. Many instruments have to be made from parts of sacrificed animals or human beings (bones or skin) in order to acquire magic power. A legend from the Sudan tells of a musician who acquired a lute from a blacksmith. But the lute ‘did not sing’. The smith said, ‘This is a piece of wood. It cannot sing if it has no heart. You must give it a heart. You must take it into battle with you on your back. The wood must resound at the blow of the sword; the wood must soak up dripping blood; blood of your blood, breath of your breath. Your pain must become its pain, your fame its fame.’4

From painful darkness self-sacrificing man reaches the joyful light, as sound enters the light of day from the darkness of the cave. On the Andaman Islands it is said that the ancestor of the tribe once crushed between the palms of his hands the grasshopper sacred to the lightning and thunder god Biliku; the creature groaned like a human being and

1 Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, vi (Cambridge, 1908), p. 19.

2 E. Ermann, ‘Ethnographische Wahrnehmungen auf den Küsten des Berings-Meeres’, Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, iii (1871), p. 212–13.

3 Densmore, Menominee Music (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 102) (Washington, 1932), pp. 154–5; Preuss, op. cit., i, p. 140.

4 L. Frobenius, Spielmannsgeschichten der Sahel (Jena, 1921), pp. 56–57.

darkness fell; then the ancestor taught men songs and dances which continued till the light returned.1 Like night and sleep, music is the dark giver of power which leads to the light. That is why the cavern of night is the right time for music-making. It preserves life in the darkness and every morning is a new act of creation through which dark sound is brought to radiant light. In the mythology of the Pawnee Indians the morning star repeats the act of creation every day, by appearing as a warrior (beside its little brother) and bringing up a dark ball (the sun). Reddening, it throws the ball in the air and sings: ‘This I did, when I became angry in order that in the future the earth might be formed.’2 (Ex. 52.)

The luminous nature of sound, which in Indian tradition is based on the similarity between svar (light) and svara (sound), recurs in the creation myth of the Navaho. Originally all mankind lived in a cave in the heart of a mountain. Their light glimmered only for a few hours a day but two flute-players enlivened the darkness with their music. Accidentally one of the players hit his flute against the roof of the cave. A hollow echo resulted and the men decided to bore a hole in the direction from which the sound came. The flute was held against the roof and the boring continued until they reached the outside of the mountain. Then a wind arose which dried out the sea and the people climbed out of the cave and played their favourite song ‘Patole’. Then they built the sun and moon and entrusted the two flute-players with the conduct of these lights.3 The association of the light-producing explosion of the bamboo nodules with the origin of man has been mentioned earlier.4 Jakob Grimm held that the original etymological affinity between ‘peeping’, ‘string’, and ‘piping’5 indicated that the idea of the association of light and sound also existed in ancient Europe.

Music for worship consists in a repetition of the act of creation. Admittedly it has not the creative power which enabled the divine ancestors to call forth matter from nothing by their shining songs and war-dances, but its power is analogous and has the power to renew life. The sound produced by sacrifice or battle establishes the connexion between heaven and earth. In many legends the sky formerly

1 A. R. Brown, op. cit., p. 215.

2 Densmore, Pawnee Music (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 93) (Washington, 1929), p. 20.

3 E. Fuhrmann, Tlinkit und Haida (Hagen, 1923), p. 18.

4 See p. 47.

5 Grimm drew attention particularly to the English words ‘peep’ and ‘pipe’ and to the German word svegel which means both ‘pipe’ and ‘light’. See Deutsche Mythologie (Göttingen, 1844), pp. 706–8.

B 3608

E

50

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

hung so close to the earth that it was possible to come and go between the two on an intervening rope (or tree). The obvious inference is that the string of the earth-bow stretched between the bough of a tree and a hole in the ground was the musical symbol of this rope. In any case, sound nourishes and preserves both gods and men. In the sky resound sun and moon, lightning and thunder, which give man sunshine and rain. The sounds of earth, human songs of praise, nourish the celestial spirits. Since heaven and earth are regarded as analogous spheres, though with opposite values, all earthly sorrow is a joy in heaven and all earthly joy a heavenly sorrow. In accordance with this inversion of values, the lamentations in which primitive music abounds serve to attune the spirits to a happy, therefore favourable, mood.

The sound symbols developed from these ideas are very diverse. Recitative bridges the dualism of the world by its psalmodizing balance between music and speech, or a tremolo-like oscillation between two notes (a third, fourth, or fifth apart). Perhaps singing in parallel seconds (Ex. 125) also goes back to the same source. Other forms attempt to reach their goal by inversion. On earth-bows sighs are produced which resemble those of the human voice. If a funeral song does not sound completely realistic, it progresses mainly in descending semitones.1 Among the Duala piercing cries are regarded as arrows, and even today in Andalusia in the night of Good Friday the saeta (from sagitta) is still sung in a high falsetto, with hands clenched. In the advanced culture of India the syllable om (arrow) (which is pitched very high in the udghita song) is the ‘nail’ which pierces the whole world and holds it together. The expression ‘to fire off a song’ is also very widespread.

The long sustained (non-rhythmical) drone also appears to represent a particular mystic force. In West Africa (Baule) it is thought to be the expression of ‘female strength’. Among the Menominee it is sung by the women to help the men.2 In the Caucasus it is associated with a melody used in healing the sick.3 Among the Indians of western Brazil a woman utters persistent piercing cries, while the men sing a solemn communal song.4 In the South African panpipe bands the drone is called the ‘weeping note’. Since the nose conveys the breath of life among the living and has phallic significance among the dead,

1 The thirteenth-century theorist Elias Salomonis still calls the semitones below B flat, C and F, ‘lamented’ notes. See Gerbert, Scriptores, iii (St. Blaise, 1784), p. 18.

2 Densmore, Menominee Music, pp. 161-2.

3 V. Belaiev, ‘The Folk-Music of Georgia’, The Musical Quarterly, xix (1933), p. 423.

4 T. Koch-Grünberg, Zwei Jahre unter den Indianern N. W. Brasiliens (Stuttgart, 1923), p. 55.

erotic and funeral songs are often sung in a nasal tone. Piping during

the night is usually interpreted as the voice of one recently dead.

Among the Duala eating is stopped even in daytime whenever a

passer-by whistles, lest the spirit of a dead man settle on the food.

The sound of the bowstring represents a compressed force. The harsh

sound of the scraper justifies the obstinate survival of this most

unmusical of all primitive instruments since it represents the act of

sacrifice most vividly as a process of ‘friction’.

In view of the significance of sound it is not surprising that certain

sounds constantly associated with some process or other are consi-

dered the most important constituent of the process. The superior

power of the rattle-spear, the setting stick, or priest’s staff is based on

the specific noise they make. Deafening noise is particularly impor-

tant. The roaring waterfall from which the spirit of great Manitou

speaks, and any noise that proceeds from stone or iron frightens away

evil spirits because—by definition—they shun the act of sacrifice.

Noises are specially contrived in rain charms and at change of moon:

noise keeps off the evil spirits which attempt to arrest the rain-laden

clouds or prevent the birth of the new moon. At funerals the soul

(which still cleaves to the earth for the first weeks after death) is

banished as an evil spirit, until it is released from this world and

transformed by the sacrifice of banishment into a good spirit. A

systematic abstention from noise (prohibition of speaking and singing,

pounding rice, and beating down nuts) is also recommended as a

means of misleading the spirits.

Sound is regarded as just as much the substance of the powers of

darkness as their dwelling-place. For primitive races sound is a wholly

concrete expression of the spiritual world. In West Africa a series of

identical musical phrases is likened to a string of pearls. In Uganda,

where the soloist often breaks off in the middle of the theme and leaves

the rest to the chorus, the chorus is said to ‘catch’ the melody (like a

ball).1 Among the Nyamwesi, parallelism of voices is called going arm

in arm. The expression ‘to carry a tune’ indicates that the singer is

thought of as the seat, wagon, ship, or cavern of the sound.

The musical instrument and in particular the sound-box also

represent a kind of sacrificial cavern. The ideas associated with

instruments are largely conditioned by two factors: firstly, by the

ideas connected with the surrounding world from which the material

of the instrument comes and secondly, by the way in which the

1 Schneider, ‘Über die Verbreitung afrikanischer Chorformen’, Zeitschrift für

Ethnologie, lxix (1937), p. 88.

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PRIMITIVE MUSIC

outward shape of the instrument conditions the antagonism of forces,

thereby making the sound possible. Because of the place where it is

found, the conch is closely associated with the life-giving ocean of

death; its outward shape is thought to express the idea of bisexuality.

Since the sound-substance of the world is produced by a dual being

who overcomes (i.e. converts into sound) the immanent dualism by

self-castigation or self-fertilization, so originally every sound-producer

must be thought of as bisexual. The African drum which, in a moment

of danger, speaks of its own accord; the tree-drum which is the seat

of the deity and which beats itself to create the primeval waters; the

crocodile which beats itself with its own tail: all these embody the

immanent dualism. But where a male or female player approaches

the instrument, the immanent dualism may disintegrate into two

separate elements (instrument and player). Yet the two parts are

related like horse and rider, who always form a unity in symbolism.

By this conception of the basically dual nature of musical instru-

ments the writer differs from the view held by his revered teacher,

Curt Sachs, who tries as far as possible to attribute a male or female

character to each instrument. There is no doubt that in many instru-

ments the accent is on one sex or the other but instruments seem to

resemble the bisexual cave-god who is very often divided into two

persons and is therefore sometimes thought of as male, sometimes as

female (the god of spring or Magna Mater). If a predominantly

female instrument is played by a man, the bisexuality is maintained

in the relationship between instrument and player. The player, the

instrument, and the sound are related as father, mother, and child.

If a woman plays a predominantly female instrument, however (for

example, a drum), or a man a predominantly male one (for example, a

flute), the player acts only as the outward shape or even merely as the

technique of the instrument and the sound of the drum is masculine

and that of the flute feminine—a relationship which again recalls the

self-fertilization of the mythical dual being or of the ascetic whose

'wife' (sound-box) resides in his own nature and whose 'child' (sound)

represents his spiritual renewal.

In fact the idea that the present division of the sexes has gradually

developed from an original unity, by way of a hybrid being and a pair

of twins (the marriage of brother and sister), is already found in the

old hunting civilizations 1. Usually, this mythological figure is a

bisexual forest god or a fabulous creature who manifests himself in

the echo, in the whizzing of the bull-roarer or in the complaining note

1 Baumann, op. cit., p. 208.

of the bamboo trumpet. He is half man and half tiger or partly stone

and partly straw or bees-wax. Sometimes he is also thought to be a

grandmother or a hunter whose bow is carried by a brother or a

mourning leopard (the transition from the hybrid to the pair of

twins). The dualism is also expressed in psychological terms when

the gloomy hunter indulges in some wild sport, killing or seriously

injuring men and then healing them and teaching them medicine-

songs. His close association with the rustling of the forest and the

buzzing of insects suggests that the drone represents one of his most

essential symbols. He too lives in hollow trees, and, as he is moreover

lord of the dead, it is probable that the bisexual forest god is an

anthropomorphic formulation of the dream- and resonance-cavern.

In order to understand the dual conception of instruments properly

the whole man or the whole of nature as represented anthropomor-

phically must be taken into account, not merely the sexual aspect.

Man and nature are tripartite beings. Heaven, intervening world

(humanity), and earth correspond to the head, the trunk and the

lower part of the body or, alternatively, to the mouth and nose, the

heart and the digestive organs, the sexual parts and the feet. The body

is often thought of as a circle, so that mouth and feet touch one an-

other. When a man stamps in the rhythmic dance, or offers his sperm,

he creates new physical life. In the sacrificial meal he mediates between

heaven and earth, by passing on celestial food to the earth through

the 'digestive fire'. When he gives his breath, his speech, and his song,

he creates spiritual values, analogous to heaven. These three zones

represent the three aspects of the creative sacrifice. They are analogous

to one another, but hierarchically ordered. A given symbol can be

valid in all three zones. In Europe this tripartition survived in music

right into the Middle Ages, when three kinds of music were distin-

guished: musica mundana, musica humana, and musica instrumentalis.

As a mere tool, the instrument belongs to the third zone. The fact

that it is essentially a sounding instrument, however, means that it

cannot represent primarily a sexual symbol but belongs rather to the

first zone (head, heaven). The player or the sound-board belongs

to the second zone. The musical instrument therefore belongs to all

three zones, but as used by man its specific task is to connect the third

and first zones. And the power to do this comes to it from the 'cavern'

of the second zone. If lightning and rain are usually interpreted as the

product of the marriage of heat and cold (sun and cloud, drumstick

and drum),1 this simply means that an obvious aspect of dualism is

1 Sachs, op. cit., p. 35.

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PRIMITIVE MUSIC

being transferred to the first plane. The terms ‘masculine’ and

‘feminine’ (instead of fire and water, day and night, &c.) are therefore

used below for all three zones in order to express as simply as possible

the dualism that runs through all three levels.

The conch which Sachs, too, regards as bisexual,1 is a clear example

of the dual structure and the three levels on which it is expressed.

Because it dwells in the sea and is spiral, it is thought to contain all the

seeds of life. Its role in the first zone as propagator of the breath of

life is apparent in creation myths, in its use as a call-signal, in its

ritual fixing on the forehead, and in its combination with ear and nose

shells. Its war-call or sacrificial call is used particularly in rain charms.

From the second zone downwards, it is used increasingly as a simple

implement besides its function as a musical instrument. It is heard in

fertility rites, but in libations and cures it is used predominantly as

a container. On the third plane it is closely associated with the wor-

ship of the dead, since conches are at the same time sexual symbols,

dwellings of the dead, and burial places, from which new life springs.

On all three levels the conch is a sacrificial cavity, but its fertility is

spiritual in the first zone, physical in the second, and metaphysical in

the third.

Rattles consisting of hard objects strung together, and hung round the

body, turn the dancer himself into a rattle, into the homme-sonnaille

(to use Schaeffner’s expression) from which the spirit speaks. In the

vessel form the dual structure is indicated by magic carvings (for

instance, of birds and aquatic animals) though it is already symbolized

to some extent in the combination of handle and hollow ball. The

first of the three planes is shown by its significance in the ‘cloud

festivals’ (i.e. rain ceremonies) in which each dancer wears a tall

head-ornament of feathers (representing clouds), to which a rattle

is attached.2 Its use in field and medicine rites corresponds to the

second zone, as does probably also the interpretation of spherical

rattles as female breasts.3 According to Frances Densmore a different

rhythm is beaten for every illness.4 The third zone appears to be

specially indicated by wearing the rattle in the region of the knee.

Characteristically, the orenda of the rattle is also connected with

that of the cricket and the dragonfly, both of which are creatures of

the underworld.5

1 Schneider, ‘Los cantos de lluvia’, Anuario musical del Instituto Español de Musico-

logia, iv (1949).

2 Densmore, Pawnee Music, p. 18.

3 Densmore, Papago Music, p. 102.

4 Wirz, op. cit., iv, p. 60.

5 Preuss, op. cit., i, pp. 35, 80, and 128; Die Nayarit-expedition, i (Leipzig 1912),

pp. 75 and 81.

SPIRITUAL CULTURE

55

The idea of sacrifice which is expressed in the conch and the rattle by the friction of the breath against the mouth-hole or the grains rubbing against one another in the hollow inside of the rattle, is symbolized in other instruments by the skin taken from a living body. When the skin is stretched over a pit or a hollow vessel, a drum results. Its specific effect depends on the quality of the sound it produces, that is, on the sound of the animal or person from whom the skin is taken. The dry hard sound of a goatskin attracts thunder, because the mountain goat is a thunder animal. Cow-hides bring rain. Although the low or belly-shaped drums 'speak' (in the first zone) they seem to belong predominantly to the second, i.e. the animal zone; they are regarded as mothers, cows, or frogs and are practically simple 'caverns'. On the other hand, the skin that produces the sound is thought of as the head. The ngoma-drum of the Venda seems, however, to extend over all three zones ; it is called 'egg of an ostrich' ; the side-handles are called 'a frog's knee' ; the opening at the bottom is termed 'vagina' ; the head, 'the skin of a man' ; the smooth hairless circular portion in the centre of the head, 'a baby's fontanelle' ; the pegs which secure the head, 'the fingers' ; the drumstick, 'the hand of a person'.1 The skin of these drums is often rubbed with sacrificial foods, and sacred stones or bones of the dead lie inside the instrument. If the skin bursts, no one is allowed to look inside.

It seems doubtful whether the friction-drum represents the sexual act, as is generally assumed. Its use in initiation ceremonies in the spring and at the winter solstice and also the term 'menstruation drum' seem rather to point to puberty.2

While the low barrel-shaped drum represents fertility as a crouching figure, longitudinal instruments express it in the upright or recumbent position of the mystic dual being. Since the self-fertilization typical of this dual deity is performed by most trees, it is not surprising that the deity also appears as a tree god. The corresponding musical symbols are the springy dance-tree (with a crocodile's or woman's face) and the slit-drum. The hollow interior of the slit-drum is the dwelling of the dual deity (or the deity itself) and the home of dead or still unborn souls. It was its 'word' that created the primeval waters when the father-god beat the slit (or himself) with the drum-stick. The Uitoto connect this sacrificial act with the darkened moon. It is characteristic that the slit of the anthropomorphic drum is often

1 Kirby, op. cit., p. 36.

2 Marius Schneider, 'Zambomba und Pandero', Spanische Forschungen, i, 9 (1954), p. 13.

56

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

found on the back, not on the front. The beating or whipping by a

power behind (that is, invisible) clearly shows that fertilization is not

conceived in specifically sexual terms. The head-hunters of the Naga

place captured skulls on these sounding ancestral figures, tree-men,

forest spirits1 or soul containers. Gigantic drums are laid or hung

horizontally in a house specially built for the purpose or they are

hung on a tree (usually in a sloping position). In this position they

have quite exceptional power because they are thought to be suicides,2

i.e. beings who have become especially powerful spirits owing to their

self-sacrifice.

Since the original types of flute were very large, like the earliest

drums, the tree or the long reed seems to have determined their

original symbolic form. Among the Tlinkit, flutes are carved in the

shape of ancestral figures or supplied with figures of eagles or fishes

(symbolizing fire and water). The dualism is also expressed by double

flutes or pairs of flutes. (In the creation myth of the Navaho mentioned

above,3 the two flutes correspond to the sun and moon.) In the

initiation ceremonies of the Nor-Papuans the lads are laid on

the drum and beaten until the voice of the spirit Brag sounds in the

two flutes, of which the male is 1·5 metres and the female 1·25 metres

long.4 It is said of the Parak flute, which holds the secret of life and

death, that it forms the veil in which the god Wunekau has enveloped

the mystery of procreation.5 The flute is primarily the carrier of wind

and breath. ‘I have reared a bird’ means ‘I have made a big bamboo

flute.’6 If the face of the totem-god, to whom the instrument be-

longs, is known, the flute is provided with the corresponding head.7

Or when the spirit is evoked a corresponding mask is held ready,8 so

that the totem-god can manifest itself vocally as well as bodily. Flutes

are also played to promote the growth of the fruits of the field.

The flute is related to the drum in a number of ways. Neither instru-

ment must be played indoors since both give rise to thunderstorms.9

Both ‘speak’ not only alone but to one another. In such dialogues the

flute assumes the symbolic role of the drumstick. This relationship

1 A. Steinmann, ‘Uber anthropomorphe Schlitztrommeln in Indonesien’, Anthropos,

xxxiii (1938), p. 244.

2 Ibid., p. 243.

3 See p. 49.

4 J. G. Schmidt, op. cit., p. 344.

5 R. F. H. Mayer, ‘Sonnenverehrung in Neu-Guinea’, Anthropos, xxviii (1933), p. 48.

6 P. A. Schaeffner, ‘Zur Initiation im Wagi Tal (Bismarck Archipelago)’, Anthropos,

xxxiii (1938), p. 401.

7 K. Koch, ‘Totemismus und Zweiklassenkultur in Neu-Guinea’, Zeitschrift für

Ethnologie, lxxi (1931), p. 325.

8 J. G. Schmidt, op. cit., pp. 341 and 666.

9 J. Kunst, Music in Flores (Leyden, 1942), p. 127; R. F. W. Arndt, ‘Die Religion

der Nad'a’, Anthropos, xxvi (1931), p. 356.

seems to be confirmed by the fact that in later cuiltures the flute is

predominantly a male instrument and the drum female. Among the

Banoro the sexual relationship between flute and drum is expressed

in the longitudinal bisection of the spirit house. In the flute section

(opposite the drum section) of the house, the bride is deflowered by

one of her father-in-law's kinsmen.1 According to a story told by the

Mandan and the Papago a boy saw his grandmother (the moon)

take a full pot into bed with her every night, and the pot was empty in

the morning. One day he found a snake in it and killed it. The snake

(the sun) was the grandmother. The woman buried him (the grand-

father) in a lake, took the stalk of a sunflower (or a reed from the lake)

and made the boy a flute with which he could summon snow and

rain.2

The high notes of the flute are particularly effective in sexual magic

and a special style of singing has developed in association with this

instrumental sound-symbol. The special songs sung while a flute is

being made, which still survive in some European folk-customs, may

also be connected with this. The reeds which grow on graves and

betray the name of the murderer, the singing bones and the tomb-

flutes close the life-circle by letting new life sound from the sacrifice

of the old.

The power which springs from dualism is particularly obvious

where a tree or a stick has been bent by an opposing force. The easily

bent slit-drum or the sighing spirit-voice of the bow, with which the

player holds converse, arises in this way. Even though the musical

bow seems to be an earlier development than the hunter's bow, the

ideological relationships between the two cannot be overlooked.

According to a legend of the Hehe, the musical bow sprang from a

girl thrown into the water; her head became the calabash, her back-

bone the stick, and her limbs strings.3 According to a legend of the

Marind-anim, however, the hunter's bow is also a human being,

sometimes even a pair of human beings. The stick is the man, the

string the woman. When the Papuan goes hunting he conjures the

'wife' to clasp her 'husband' firmly so that the string shall not break.4

The Washambula believe that men whose strings break while they are

playing the bow will not get wives.5

The harp, which derives historically from the bow, often appears

1 Koch, op. cit., p. 328.

2 Densmore, Mandan and Hidatsa Music, p. 81; Papago Music, p. 61.

3 Sachs, op. cit., p. 63.

4 P. Wirz, op. cit., i, 2, p. 128; iii, p. 106-9.

5 Sachs, op. cit., p. 63.

58

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

among primitive races as the retrogressive form of an instrument from

an advanced culture. It is the fish-hook of the death- and water-spirits

or a man whose back is bent with sorrow and care. Because of its

long neck it is also called crane, goose, or swan.1 With this identifica-

tion 'swan song'.2 In the outward shape of the harp, the hunter's bow,

and the easily bent tree-drum, one can detect the mystic shape of the

ship which, like the cry, the arrow, the path, the wagon, the waning

moon, and man is a symbol of sacrifice. According to totemistic myths,

the canoe is a human corpse which has been stamped into shape.3

According to other traditions, the drum is a forest spirit which origin-

ally stood at the bow of a princely ship.4 Schaeffner has already drawn

attention to the connexions between the construction of a harp and

of a ship.5

The bull-roarer also appears to be a small boat. Many Australian

legends tell of the circular voyages of the totem-gods who left their

caves after the dividing of the waters, singing and dancing with

spears, and set out to create all things. Then they taught men the

songs on which the preservation of the world depends, returned to

their caves, and turned into bull-roarers. These instruments represent

the 'mystical body' of the totem-god and renew its creative energy

as soon as they begin to travel, that is, as soon as they begin to whiz

in the air. As carvings representing the journeys of the totem-gods or

ancestral figures (in animal forms) are often found on Australian

bull-roarers,6 the whizzing of the bull-roarer appears to represent a

revival of the voice and ritual journeys of the cave-gods. The bull-

roarer which a grandfather carves out for a child is kept in a cave

before the child is born and returned there after its owner's death.

It confers on its owner the joy of mystic communion with his an-

cestors so long as he hides it from the women. It is customary to give

the sick a few shavings from the wood as medicine.7

The bow or the tree-man that has been painfully bent into a circle

or oval forms the framework of the shaman drum. It is used particu-

larly in medicine, rain rites, and soothsaying. The victim (reindeer or

horse) which gave its skin for the drum, is the lord of this 'singing

1 A. O. Vaisanen, Wogulische und ostjakische Melodien (Helsinki, 1937), p. 22;

Sachs, Handbuch der Musikinstrumentenkunde (Leipzig, 1920), p. 231.

2 The Rigveda, iii, 53, 10 and ix, 97, 8 also requires the singers to sing like the swans

who perform the prelude to the hymns.

3 Wirz, op. cit., i, pp. 122 and 176.

4 Steinmann, op. cit., p. 244.

5 Op. cit., pp. 164–5.

6 Strehlow, op. cit., pls. 1 and 2.

7 Ibid., ii, p. 79.

bow tree’.

1

Since the doctor’s original implement is a bow and arrow

2

(medicine is ‘shot’), it is not surprising that the drum, which replaces

the bow, is also called ‘bow’ and the drumstick ‘arrow’.

Among the Shor of the Altai mountains the six ‘horns’ on the frame of the drum

are used to attack, and the six iron rings (ring-nail) to ward off,

evil spirits.

The ‘iron bow-string’ runs right across the frame and

beside it is the ‘sword’ (six knife-shaped iron plates).

3

Like all symbols of sacrifice, the frame-drum represents a way or a means of

transport by which the shaman travels to the world of spirits.

If the drum is a horse, the drumstick is a whip.

4

The skin, on which blood

or libations are poured, is often decorated with symbolic drawings

(of the sun, moon, drums, or animals) which represent ‘the whole

world’.

5

The number-symbolism of Samoyed drums

6

probably points

to a very late cultural development.

On the other hand, the description

of the drum as ‘grandfather’ and the Lapp custom of never bringing

the instrument into a tent through the main entrance but only through

the small ‘sacred door’ through which the hunters crawl

7

are probably

of earlier origin.

Since the drum is a dead man it is worth mentioning

in this context the custom of carrying the dead out of the house

through a small door that is usually kept shut.

8

A dark god also speaks out of the hourglass-drum and is even

depicted on it occasionally.

Two similar, approximately triangular

but inverted sections form the body of the drum.

These outlines,

which occur in many archaeological representations as the body of

the tightly-girdled dancer (and later, in the shape of Shiva), represent

the inversion brought about by sacrifice.

The same significance

attaches to the depiction of the waxing and waning crescents of the

moon.

The conches and the whale or crocodile jaws at the lower end

and the resonant skin at the upper end of the instrument symbolize,

like lizards and snakes, the dualism of water and fire.

In the transition to the higher farming and pastoral cultures many

of the ideas touched on here undergo considerable extension or

specialization.

They become more and more the esoteric preserve of

1

E.

Emsheimer, ‘Zur Ideologie der lappischen Zaubertrommel’,

Ethnos,

ix

(1944),

p.

2

Ibid.,

p.

3

L.

Menges and P.

Potapov,

Materialien zur Volkskunde der Turkvölker des Altay

(Mitteilungen des Seminars für orientalischen Sprachen)

(Berlin,

1934),

p.

4

Emsheimer,

op.

cit.,

p.

5

Menges and Potapov,

op.

cit.,

p.

6

E.

Emsheimer, ‘Schamanentrommel und Trommelbau’,

Ethnos,

ix

(1946),

p.

7

Emsheimer, ‘Zur Ideologie’,

p.

8

Baechhold-Staeubli,

Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens,

v

(Berlin,

1932/3),

p.

60

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

individuals; the people as a whole only partially continue the old

tradition and usually lack any deeper understanding of it. But in the

depths of the subconscious the ideas continue to be active. No art

fascinates primitive man more than music; he is as vividly aware of

its dynamic fluctuations between light and darkness as he is of the

mysterious relationship between life and death.

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

61

A 1. Asia: Wedda (Wertheimer)

2. America: Tierra del Fuego, Small black Albatross (Hornbostel)

3. Asia: Moluccas, Rowing song (Tauern)

4. Indonesia: Kūbū (Hornbostel)

5. America: Taulipang, Cure of the sick (Hornbostel)

6. Australia: Yuna, Initiation into tribal laws (Schneider)

7. New Guinea: Sialum (Kolinski)

8. New Guinea: Kai (Kunst)

Var.1

9. Europe: Votyak, Love song (Lach)

62

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

B 10. Asia: Semang (Kolinski)

d =176

11. New Guinea: Laúkanŭ (Kolinski)

Drum: etc.

12. America: Winnebago, Song of Trickster

d =124

(Herzog)

(Cry)

13. America: Menominee, Frog-dance (Densmore)

d =100 3

O ma-ka-ko kak-wu-na u.

14. America: Pawnee, Song of Buffalo (Fletcher)

d =120

15. Africa: Acooli(Schneider)

d = 69

ost. Chorus

Tok, tok cwin-yani-to lem, tok, tok do. E - ray - eel O -

po-rokagär E-li-a malame-ra! E - ray-ee

16. Africa: Ewe, Wedding dispute (Schneider)

ost. ost.

Néyi-dá, né-yi-dá mà-vò, Né yi-dá, né-yi-dá mà-vò

17. Torres Straits: Murray, Death song (Myers)

d =40-56

3 3

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

63

18. America: Osage, Song to water spirits (la Flesche)

19. New Guinea: Bukaua (Kolinski)

20. Asia: Vogul, Bear song (Kannisto)

21. America: Chippewa, Owl medicine song (Densmore) Drum:

22. Africa: Hausa (Schneider)

23. Africa: Nyamwesi, Travel song (Hornbostel)

24. Caucasus: Kartvelia (Dirr)

25. Europe: Cheremiss (Lach)

26. America: Omaha, Scout song (Fletcher)

64

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

D

27. America: Yamana, Song of bird (Hornbostel)

28. Asia: Malabars, Prayer (Hornbostel)

29. America: Patagonian (Fischer)

30. America: Ojibway (Hoffmann)

31. Torres Straits (Myers)

32. New Guinea: Sialum (Kolinski)

33. Bismarck Archipelago: Barriai (Schneider)

34. Asia: Vogul, Mythological spirit song (Kannisto)

35. Asia: Buryat (Stumpf)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

65

36. Asia: Seram, Rowing song (Tauern)

37. America: Chippewa, Lullaby (Densmore)

38. America: Makûrap (Schneider)

39. America: Omaha (Fletcher)

(Schneider)

40. Africa: Masai, War song

41. Africa: Wahehe, Dance (Schneider)

42. Africa: Tanganyika, Hunting song (Molitor)

Andantino

B 3608

F

66

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

43. Africa: Ewe, Incantation (Schneider)

44. Asia: Flores (Kunst)

Chorus

45. Asia: Ostyak (Kannisto)

46. America: Creek, Skunk dance (Sapir)

47. Europe: Cheremiss (Lach)

48. America: Nootka, Rain song (Densmore)

49. Asia: Karakirgiz, Lament (Zataevič)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

67

50. America: Pawnee, Buffalo dance (Densmore) Drum = 132 & 116

51. Africa: Uganda (Schneider)

52. America: Pawnee, Mythological song (Densmore)

E 53. America: Copper Eskimo, Dance song (Roberts)

54. America: Copper Eskimo, Dance song (Roberts)

55. America: Creek, Medicine song (Sapir)

56. America: Shasta, Girl initiation (d'Harcourt)

57. Asia: Burma, Prayer (Schneider)

68

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

58. Asia: Vogul, Bear song (Kanisto)

59. America: Makuschi, Women at work (Hornbostel)

60. Europe: Children's song

61. Torres Straits: Death song (Myers)

62. Asia: Pamir (Schneider)

63. Africa: Bushman (Kirby)

64. Africa: Bakango (Schneider)

65. Africa: Camerpons, Work song (Schneider)

66. Asia: Toba-Batak, Rowing song (Schneider)

67. New Guinea: Awembiak (Künst)

68. America: Ashumawi, Puberty song (d'Harcourt)

69. Europe: Lapp (Schneider)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

70. Africa: Bushman, Dance (Schneider)

♩ =152

71. Africa: Schillük, Dirge (Schneider)

72. America: Menominee, War song (Densmore)

♩ =98

73. America: Menominee, Hunting medicine (Densmore)

♩ =116

74. America: Nootka, Lullaby (Boas)

75. Bismarck Archipelago: Mioko (Schneider)

♩ =126

G

76. Asia: Engano (Schneider)

77. America: Cocopa, Song concerning the Diver (Densmore)

♩ =76

Rattle ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ etc.

78. Asia: Semang (Kolinski)

♩ =132

79. Bismarck Archipelago: Baining (Schneider)

70

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

80. Africa: Hehe, Dance (Schneider)

81. Africa: Bakongo (Schneider)

82. America: Iroquois, Medicine society song (Roberts)

83. America: Cape York Eskimo, Spirit song (Schneider)

84. New Guinea: Hube, Spirit song (Schneider)

H85. Africa: Central Congo, Medicine song (Schneider)

86. Asia: Dyak, Borneo (Schneider)

87. Asia: Buryat (Schneider)

88. America: Makūschi, Women's song (Hornbostel)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

71

89. Caucasus: Kartvelia, Love song (Lach)

=125

90. Asia: Karakirgiz (Zataevič)

=120

91. Africa: Hehe, Dance (Schneider)

= 62

92. Africa: Egyptian Peasant (Schneider)

3

93. Europe: Spain (Schneider)

I 94. America: Jabuti, Dance (Schneider)

=138

95. Africa: Fipa (Schneider)

72

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

96. Europe: Cheremiss (Lach)

97. Asia: Flores (Kunst)

98. Oceania: Nissan, Lament for the dead (Hornbostel)

99. Asia: India, Beggar's Song (Schneider)

100. Europe: Spain (Torner)

101. Africa: Sudan, Kerümbe (Schneider)

102. Africa: Acooli, Hero song (Schneider)

103. America: Chippewa, Love song (Densmore)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

73

104. America:Menominee, Love song (Densmore)

d =100

105. Asia: Karakirgiz, Lament (Zataevič)

d = 63

106. Asia: Ortos, Lament over lost horse (Oost)

Moderato

107. Asia:Eastern Mongolia (Emsheimer)

d = 120

J 108. Asia: Pamir, Love-song (Schneider)

Falsetto

109. Europe: Cantigas de S. Maria (13th century) (Anglès)

K 110. Asia: Wedda (Schneider)

111. Africa: Bambütti (Schneider)

112. Asia: Kenta (Kolinski)

d =160 -192

74

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

113. Asia: Flores (Kunst)

114. Africa: Bushman (Kirby)

115. Africa: Badiki (Schneider)

116. Oceania: Samoa, Song on a volcano (Kolinski)

117. Asia: Naga, Headhunters' song and rice stamping (Schneider)

118. Africa: Bashilengwe (Schneider)

119. Africa: Wanicha (Schneider)

120. Africa: Karanga (Schneider)

121. Caucasus: Ossete (Lach)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

75

122. Europe: 12th century (Trope) Adsit Johannes 123. Africa: Nyamwesi (Hornbostel)

123. Africa: Wabali (Schneider)

124. Oceania: Hūrea, Feast song (Schneider)

125. New Guinea: Sepik (Schneider)

126. Caucasus: Mingrelia (Lach)

127. Africa: Kindiga (Schneider)

128. Africa: Batswa-Pygmy (Schneider)

76

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

180. Oceania: Solomon Islands (Hornbostel)

181. Africa: Chewa, War song (Schneider)

182. Africa: Ngoni (Schneider)

183. Africa: Ngoni (Schneider)

184. Oceania: Solomon Islands, Kongara (Hornbostel)

185. Oceania: Solomon Islands, (Hornbostel)

186. Asia: Naga (Schneider)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

77

137. Oceania: Raiatea, Religious song (Schneider)

138. Africa: Bashlengwe (Schneider)

139. Africa: Nyassa (Schneider)

140. Caucasus: Svanetia, Dance (Dirr)

141. Portugal (Sampaio)

142. Portugal (Sampaio)

143. Europe: Worcester 13th century (Hughes) Dulciflua

144. Bismarck Archipelago: Barriai (Schneider)

78

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

145. Africa : Chagga (Schneider)

146. Africa: Masai, war song (Schneider)

147. Africa: Acoli, Mocking Song(Schneider)

Eyee wa - ci - to ka don-go bane o - lo-yi ro - bo.

o - lo-yo

148. Africa: Sobo (Schneider)

149. Africa: Ewe (Schneider)

150. Africa: Ruanda (Hornbostel)

drum etc.

151. Caucasus: Abkhaz (Schneider)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

79

152. Europe (medieval): Codex Las Huelgas. Clama (Anglès)

P 153. Africa: Bakango (Schneider)

Drum

154. New Guinea: St. Mathias, Death song (Schneider)

155. Oceania: Rennell Island (Burrows)

156. Oceania: Marquesas (Schneider)

157. Asia: Sema Naga, Women's song (Schneider)

158. Caucasus: Abkhaz (Lach)

159. Caucasus: Imeretia (Lach)

80

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

160. Caucasus: Georgia, Ditge (Dirr)

161. Europe: Codex Las Huelgas, Verbum Patris (Anglès)

Q 162. Africa : Bushman, Musical Bow (Kirby)

163. Indonesia: Earth-zither(Brandt-Büys)

164. Asia: Flores, Xylophone (Kunst)

with sansa accompaniment (Schneider)

165. Africa: Ivory Coast, Hunting song

166. Africa: Bamalete, Reed flute ensemble (Kirby)

167. America: Bark trumpet (Alphorn) (Vegas)

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

81

168. Africa: Bechuanag, 4 reed flutes (Kirby)

169. South Africa: 2 Xylophones (Kirby)

170. Africa: Ubangi Chari, Shepherd's flute (Schneider)

(original a minor 3rd higher)

171. Africa: Chwana, Flute (Kirby)

172. America: Menominee, Flute, Love-medicine (Densmore)

B 3608

G

82

PRIMITIVE MUSIC

173. Asia: Eastern Mongolia, The blue banner (Emsheimer)

174. Africa: Liberia, Horn (Herzog)

175. Africa: Duala, Drum orchestra (Schneider)

Small drum

bó-lá lò-kò dí-wó í-yò =

We dance with joy

Medium drum

bó-lá lò-kò dí-wó í-yò

Deep drum

ò-ká lò-kò ò í-yò =

You dance with joy

Deep drum

176. New Guinea: Nor-Papua, Drum signal (Schmidt)

Drum loud soft

invitation to tobacco-smoking

II

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA

1. CHINA1

By Laurence Picken

INTRODUCTION

In spite of considerable differences between the musical practices of one locality and another, the vast territory of Far Eastern Asia—China, Mongolia, Tibet, Shinjiang (1),2 Shikang (2), Korea, Japan, Indo-China, Siam, Burma, Malaya, Java, Bali, &c.—can be regarded, with respect to its musical culture, as a unit, to be compared and contrasted with India perhaps on the one hand and western Europe on the other. A wave of musical culture seems to have swept over China to the seaboard of the great land-mass of Asia and beyond, so that there survive at the present time, on the periphery, types of orchestras and habits of polyphonic treatment which have vanished almost entirely from the central region.

1 Recent general accounts of Chinese music are: Kenneth Robinson, ‘Chinesische Musik, I. Geschichtliche Entwicklung von der Frühzeit (Shang-Dynastie) bis zum Ende der Han-Zeit (1523 a. Chr. bis 206 p. Chr.) (Deutsche Übs. und Bearb.: Hans Eckardt)’, Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ii (ed. Friedrich Blume) (Kassel und Basel, 1952), columns 1195–1205. This account is based directly on the Chinese sources. H. Eckardt, ‘Chinesische Musik, II. Vom Ende der Han-Zeit bis zum Ende der Sui-Zeit (220–618). Der Einbruch westlicher Musik’, ibid., columns 1205–7; ‘III. Die T’ang-Zeit (618–907). Die Rolle der westländischen (Hu-)Musik. Die Zehn Orchester. Die Musik der Zwei Abteilungen. Akademien und Konservatorien’, ibid., columns 1207–16; P. C. Crossley-Holland, ‘Chinese Music’, Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians (ed. E. Blom), ii (London, 1954), pp. 219–48. Dr. Eckardt’s bibliography includes a valuable selection of recent Japanese publications, and materials on central Asian music and East-West musical interchange. Mr. Crossley-Holland’s bibliography is virtually complete for works in European languages.

2 Figures in brackets refer to serial entries in the Glossary of Characters, p. 190. The system of Romanization adopted here is that primarily due to Professor Jaw Yuanrenn of the University of California. Its main feature is that the tones are inherent in the spelling as they are in the spoken word. Knowing the system, the Romanized form can be read in its correct tone, thus reducing ambiguity. Typographically this system has the advantage that it avoids the use of all aspirates, diacritic signs, and superscript numerals. Some familiar words appear in new guise: Jou = Chou1, Hann = Han4, Wey = Wei4, Tarng = T’ang2, Song = Sung4; chyn = ch’in3, pyipar = p’i2-p’a3, shiau = hsiao1, seh = sê4; Symaa Chian = Szû1-ma3 Ch’ien1, Ju Shii = Chu2 Hsi8. Again, the two types of pitch-pipes, previously written alike as lü, but pronounced in two different tones: lü3 and lü4, are differentiated as leu and liuh. A guide to the system will be found in W. Simon, The New Official Chinese Latin Script, Gwoyeu Romatzyh (London, 1944).

84

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

This interpretation of the total musical picture of the Far East is

to a considerable extent explicit in the surveys of Far Eastern music

made by Sachs.1 Though the course of the exposition adopted here

has been largely determined by this interpretation, it must not be

accepted as more than a working hypothesis.

PREHISTORY AND ETHNOLOGY OF THE FAR EAST

China is to be regarded as a continent apart, turning her back on

the rest of Eurasia, more isolated even than India; and it is this geo-

graphical setting which has determined the main features of Chinese

history.2 Behind her natural barriers there developed a culture of such

integrity that when, in the fourth century, invaders and conquerors

came, it was they who were absorbed; and thus it has always been.

The Chinese of Tarng (3) times was an entirely different person,

ethnically speaking, from the Chinese of Chyn (4) and Hann (5)

times, because of this constant absorption of invaders from the north

and conquered peoples in the south.3

Palaeolithic sites have been found in the Ordos region, and it is

known that neolithic civilizations flourished in Mongolia as well as

throughout the Yellow River valley. At the time of the development

of high civilization at the turn of the third millennium B.C., the

Chinese, or rather, the Proto-Chinese, differed from surrounding

peoples in the superior organization of their agriculture rather than

in physical character. Even at the present time they have linguistic

relatives all over the Far East; indeed it is customary to recognize

a Sino-Tibetan language-group which includes, on the one hand,

Chinese and the various Thai languages of southern China and Indo-

China and, on the other, the Tibeto-Burman languages of Tibet

and Burma and (in China proper) of the Luoluo (6) and Mosuo (7)

peoples of Yunnan (8) and Syhchuan (9). This group does not by

any means embrace all the mongoloid peoples of China, however.

Not included in it are the Turco-Mongols of the Gobi Desert,

and the Miau (10) and Yau (11) peoples of southern and south-

western China; the linguistic affinities of the two latter are still

uncertain.

The invasions of north China in historic times all came from

1 The History of Musical Instruments (New York, 1940); The Rise of Music in the

Ancient World, East and West (New York, 1943).

2 R. Grousset, L'Asie orientale des origines au XVe siècle (Paris, 1946), p. 139.

3 G. Haloun, ‘Die Rekonstruktion der chinesischen Urgeschichte durch die Chinesen’,

Japanisch–Deutsche Zeitschrift für Wissenschaft und Technik, iii (Kobe, 1925), pp. 243–

PREHISTORY AND ETHNOLOGY

85

Mongolia or Manchuria, never from Shinjiang (Turkestan); that is to say, the invaders were always barbarians, never bearers of high civilization, such as were the merchants or pilgrims, transmitters of cultural gifts of the highest importance—mathematics, Buddhism, music, &c.—who passed along the Silk Road or the Buddhist Pilgrim route.

This pressure from the north provided an incentive to the progressive sinicization of southern China and perhaps led to the constant movement southwards of earlier offshoots of the mongoloid stock, the Proto-Chinese or, more generally, the palaeomongoloids. Among these one may perhaps include the Proto-Malay. The Japanese are also sometimes grouped with the palaeomongoloids. A number of characters suggest that they are a branch of the mongoloids separated off at a very early date; it is known that they are not the original inhabitants of much of the territory they now occupy.

Coming south to Indo-China and Indonesia, it is certain that the present ethnic complexity of this region goes back to prehistoric times. In addition to Negritos, the most ancient inhabitants seem to have included relatives of the present inhabitants of Australia, New Guinea, and Melanesia. A second and later wave of prehistoric immigrants to this region brought the Proto-Malay element, to be found in the present Bataks and Dyaks of the islands, and in the Cham and other vanished peoples of the mainland. These folk are in many respects mongoloid; their ethnological position is uncertain, but they may perhaps be placed at the base of the mongoloid stock. They have a bamboo culture, and this fact may perhaps be important as an indication of affinity with the third wave of immigrants, the brachy-cephalic mongoloids, who also have to some extent a bamboo culture. These entered across the north-west frontier of Indo-China, and it is possible that they brought with them the first Bronze Age culture to reach Indo-China. As compared with Europe this culture arrived comparatively late.

At the time of the unification of China at the end of the third century B.C., the southern limit of Chinese territory scarcely extended beyond the Yangtz (12) River. Not until Hann times was southern China added to the Chinese domain; but by 111 B.C. Annam, in Indo-China, had been annexed. The Chinese continued to dominate this region during Hann times and from then until the tenth century. As early as the second and third centuries of our era, however, the colonization by the Hindus of Burma, Siam, Indonesia, and the coast of Indo-China, had begun and reached a peak in the fourth and fifth

86

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

centuries,1 so that from the earliest times there has been a clash of

cultures in this area.

The presence of the Ainu in northern Japan must not be forgotten

even in this brief sketch of Far Eastern ethnology. They are not

mongoloids and have existed in their present position since before the

arrival of the Japanese.

Considering the ‘continent’ of China, Indo-China, and Indonesia

as a whole, evidence points to a constant movement southward of

more or less mongoloid peoples. To diffusion in other directions may

be ascribed the colonization of the American continent: the Eskimos,

and the Indians of North and South America are mongoloids whose

affinities with the Pacific area, in the widest sense, is exhibited, among

other characters, in their armoury of musical instruments. With the

exception of a few instruments of universal occurrence all these (or

their close relatives) are to be found exclusively in China, the territory

between China and India, the Malay Archipelago, and the Pacific

Islands. Of the instruments used by American Indians 50 per cent.

occur in the Burmese hinterland and adjacent countries.2

In the light of this short account of ethnological relationships in the

Far East, it is surely not surprising to find a marked uniformity in

musical culture over the whole area, particularly with respect to more

primitive features. It is known that primitive characteristics of musi-

cal culture are often preserved with great tenacity by peoples other-

wise at a high cultural level: European folk-song, for example, retains

extremely primitive features.3 The persistence in China proper, in

spite of constant contact with other musical cultures (via Turkestan),

of the characteristic minor third pentatonic genus, with the fourth as

the dominant melodic unit, is the expression in musical terms of that

vigour in her autochthonous culture to which, at the beginning of this

section, her powers of absorbing conquerors and conquered were

ascribed.

THE PLACE OF MUSIC IN CHINESE CIVILIZATION

The views on music held by the Chinese in antiquity were remark-

able in that its essence was conceived to be not sound but a trans-

cendent power. To a considerable extent this view of the nature of

music survives even to this day. The music of the seven-stringed

zither (p. 90) tends constantly towards imagined sounds: a vibrato is

1 G. Coedès, Les États hindouisés d’Indochine et d’Indonésie (Paris, 1948), pp. 36, 81.

2 Sachs, The History of Musical Instruments, p. 203.

3 Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 296.

THE PLACE OF MUSIC IN CHINESE CIVILIZATION

87

prolonged long after all audible sound has ceased; the unplucked

string, set in motion by a suddenly arrested glissando, produces a

sound scarcely audible even to the performer. In the hands of per-

formers of an older generation the instrument tends to be used to

suggest, rather than to produce, sounds.

As early as the date of compilation of the Joulii (13) (The Cere-

monial of the State of Jou) in the third century B.C., a system relating

musical sounds to the order of the Universe had been worked

out. Its elaboration forms part of that scientific systematization of

knowledge which took place between the fifth and the third centuries

B.C. (the period of the Warring States), after the decay of the feudal

system and at a time when the process of fusion to form states1 had

already begun. At a very early date, at least as early as the Leu Shyh

Chuenchiou (14) (The Spring and Autumn of Leu Buhwei (15)), 239

B.C., a theory was devised by which the notes of the Chinese

musical world could be derived from a fundamental pitch-pipe by

simple arithmetical operations. The orderly generation of sounds

from a fundamental by this procedure was equated with other types

of order in the Universe: with the four directions, with the categories

of substance, with the orderly sequence of the seasons.2

(F) Autumn

(C) Spring

(G) Winter

(D) Summer

This system was extended and worked out in a manner analogous to

that of similar systems in India, Islam, ancient Greece, and the

Christian Middle Ages.

In an attempt to preserve the harmonious correspondence between

their system of sounds and the order of the Universe, the Chinese

were early faced with the problem of fixing an absolute pitch. The

pitch-pipes were not only of standard length but of standard capacity,

and it is understandable that the Imperial Bureau of Music became

part of the Imperial Bureau of Weights and Measures.

The belief in the power of music to sustain (or if improperly used

to destroy) Universal Harmony was but an extension of the belief in

the magic power of sounds. As a manifestation of a state of the soul,

a single sound had the power of influencing other souls for good or

ill. By extension, it could influence objects and all the phenomena of

Nature. Symaa Chian (16) (163-85 B.C.) describes two zither tunes of

1 Haloun, op. cit., pp. 243-6.

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 110.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

magic power:1 when the first was played, two groups of eight black

cranes appeared at the opening strain; at the second strain, they

stretched out their necks and cried, extended their wings and began

to dance.

The conditions under which the zither might be played (up to fifty

years ago) were originally of magical significance, but gradually

their significance was forgotten until they became merely symbolic of

the ideal way of life of the literatus.2 In Ming (18) times the playing

of the zither was forbidden to women (though that did not prevent

their playing it), and it was forbidden to perform before any but

cultured persons. The fact that the zither became the favourite instru-

ment of Taoist and Buddhist monks meant that it exchanged its

more ancient magical associations for those of the monastery, but

that it retained at all times the power to command a respectful hearing.

The categories of hieratic and popular music are to be distinguished

in most cultures, in antiquity as in recent times, but China is perhaps

unique in the extent to which ritual music came to be regarded as an

effective regulator of the harmony of the Universe in general and of

the State in particular, so that the first duty of the Ruler was to look

to the perfect maintenance of tradition in the execution of the music

and ritual of the State.

CHINESE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

The earliest Chinese documents (c. 1300–1050 B.C.) are inscriptions

on fragments of bone recording the decisions of the tortoise-bone

oracle. A number of these contain characters either certainly or pos-

sibly depicting musical instruments, and it has been suggested that

they provide evidence for the use of drums struck by a drum-stick,

bells on a wooden stand struck by a stick, suspended triangular stones

struck by a padded stick, and a horn struck with a stick.3

Excavations on the famous Shang (19) sites in the plain of north-

east China at Anyang (20) have yielded sonorous stones (qing) (21)

(pl. 4 (b)) and a globular flute (shiun) (22) (pl. 3 (c) and (d)). The

former are L-shaped slabs of calcareous stone which (according to the

pictographs in bone inscriptions) were hung from a frame and struck

with a padded stick. The shiun from the Shang site is barrel-shaped

and about 2½ inches high, carved with an ogre-mask. Hollow, with

1 Symaa Chian, Shyyjih (17), xxiv, fo. 37 vo. Translated in R. H. van Gulik, The Lore

of the Chinese Lute (Tokyo, 1940), p. 137.

2 R. H. van Gulik, op. cit., pp. 134–48.

3 E. H. Gibson, ‘Music and Musical Instruments of Shang’, Journal of The North

China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, lxviii (Shanghai, 1937), pp. 8–18.

PLATE III

(d)

(b)

(i)

(j)

(f)

(g)

(a)

(e)

(c)

CHINESE INSTRUMENTS

(a) Zither ( 1/2 ); (b) The same ( · 1/2 ); (c) Globular flute ( 1/2 ); (d) Two globular flutes ( · 1/2 );

(e) Mouth organ ( · 1/2 ); (f) Detail of the same ( · 1/2 ); (g) Vertical flute ( · 1/2 );

(h) Detail of the same ( 1/2 ); (i) Whistle flute ( · 1/2 ); (j) Whistle ( 1/2 )

For further details see page xiii.

CHINESE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

89

an apical blow-hole and five finger-holes in the side, it is said to produce the note-series: do re mi fa sol.1

In many of the folk-songs and dynastic songs from the Book of Songs (Shyjing) (23)—often said to have been selected by Confucius, but probably only used by him for purposes of instruction—references to music occur specifically mentioning some of the instruments supposed to be represented in the bone characters or found in Shang sites. According to Sachs’s tentative chronology of primitive instruments, flutes with holes, and drums, such as are mentioned in these songs, belong to the middle neolithic stratum; they occur in neolithic sites and are distributed over several continents. The sonorous stones are also included among neolithic instruments. In some songs there are references to bells; these are the Bronze Age counter-part of sonorous stones.

Whistle flutes of clay, with or without finger holes, occur in China as children’s toys. One type from Shandong (51) without finger holes and in the form of a bear is shown in pl. 3 (i). In Shikang there is a whistle flute with four finger holes in the form of a frog; and there are specimens with two finger holes from Gueyjou (24) in the form of a bird. The fact that in each case the whistle has the shape of an animal may well be significant. Such clay whistle flutes are also to be found in central America and may be a legacy from a late neolithic substrate. A bamboo whistle-flute is reported to have been seen in funeral processions fifty years ago.2

The Shang were overthrown by the Jou (25) about 1050 B.C., and many songs in the Shyjing suggest a considerable increase in the number of instruments used by the Jou (1050–255 B.C.). In addition to sonorous stones and stone-chimes, bells and bell-chimes, their idiophones include the percussion clapper (chongdwu) (26) (pl. 4 (a) the trough (juh) (27) resembling a rice-pounding mortar with pestle; and the tiger (yeu) (28), with a serrated strip of wood along its back, thrice scraped to mark the end of the music. Scrapers (according to Sachs) are idiophones reaching back to the earliest neolithic stratum; there is some evidence that they have a life-giving significance as charms. The Jou armoury of instruments also included chordophones, for the existence of which in Shang times there is no evidence. Thus the first of the songs (in the traditional order) refers to welcoming the noble lady: ‘With chyn (29) and seh (30) we hearten

1 H. G. Creel, The Birth of China (New York, 1937), p. 99.

2 A. C. Moule, ‘A List of the Musical and other Sound-Producing Instruments of the Chinese’, Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, xxxix (1908), pp. 1–160.

90

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

her.' The two instruments referred to are both half-tube zithers (using Sachs's nomenclature) of which the former (or a descendant) is still in use as the classical seven-stringed zither (chyn) (pl. 3 (a) and (b) and the latter (seh) survives in a descendant with thirteen brass strings, the jeng1 (31). New aerophones include the mouth-organ, sheng (32) (pl. 3 (e) and (l), and pl. 4 (a)), two cross flutes, yoh (33) and chyr (34), a double pipe, goan (35), and the panpipes, shiau (36). (The modern shiau, a vertical flute, is shown in pl. 3 (g) and (h). Several sorts of drum, including one of earthenware, are mentioned.

From the Yilii (37) (Rites and Ceremonies), edited at the latest in the third century B.C., we have the following description of the distribution of the orchestra at the great archery tournament:

On the day before the shoot are suspended, for the musicians, to the east of the eastern steps, facing west, the sonorous stones associated with the mouth-organs; south of these are the bells (jong) (38) associated with the mouth-organs, and south of these are other bells (boh) (39): all these are arranged in order towards the south. West of the eastern steps a drum is set up; it is beaten from the south. The answering drum (byi) (40) is to the east of this; it is struck from the south. To the west of the western steps are the sonorous stones associated with laudatory declamation; they face east. To the south of these are bells (jong) and to the south of these are other bells (boh); these are all arranged in order towards the south. To the south of all these a drum is set up; it is struck from the east. To the north of this is the starting drum byi. A drum is set up to the east of the western steps, it faces south. In the space between the set-up drums are the bamboos [flutes and mouth organs, presumably]. The hand-drum, taur (41) [struck by two buttons on two strings] rests on the western cords supporting the sonorous stones associated with laudatory declamation.2 (See pl. 4 (b).)

The chyn probably had but five strings originally, the number being later increased to seven. The seh had twenty-six strings of silk-gut. The jeng, which survives particularly in southern and south-western China,3 has thirteen brass strings and seems to be a small version of the seh; it is the only one of the half-tube zithers which includes the bamboo determinative in its ideograph. This may perhaps be regarded as support for the theory that it was originally made from an internode of bamboo divided down the middle into two half-cylinders.

The mouth-organ, sheng,4 is always symbolized by a gourd (as the

1 Cf. The History of Music in Sound (H.M.V.), i, side 1.

2 Yilii, vii.

R. H. van Gulik, 'Brief Note on the Cheng, the Chinese Small Cither', Tōyō Ongaku Kenkyū, ix (Tokyo, 1951), pp. 10-25.

3

4 F. W. Eastlake, 'The "Sho" or Chinese Reed Organ', China Review, xi (Hong Kong, 1882-3), pp. 33-41; L. C. Goodrich, 'The Chinese Shêng and Western Musical Instruments', China Magazine, xvii (New York, 1941) pp. 10, 11, 14; L. M. Traynor and S. Kishibe, 'On the Four Unknown Pipes of the Shō (Mouth Organ) used in Ancient Japanese Court Music', Tōyō Ongaku Kenkyū, ix (Tokyo, 1951), pp. 22-53.

CHINESE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

91

shiun is by clay, and the flutes by bamboo) and at some period a gourd

formed (and in some places still forms) the wind-chest; among a

number of primitive peoples playing the instrument today, however,

the wind-chest is made of wood, and in China and Japan it is often

made of lacquer. Thirteen or so slender bamboo pipes, differing in

length, are arranged so that each opens into the wind-chest by an

aperture covered by a free reed of copper (pl. 3 (l)). A small hole

in the pipe near the reed is stopped at will, so that a sufficient back

pressure can be produced for the reed to be set vibrating when the

pressure in the wind-chest is raised or lowered by blowing into or

sucking the mouth-piece. The reed may be tuned by weighting with

wax (pl. 3 (l)). The number of pipes has varied considerably in

China at different epochs, and among non-Chinese tribes the number

is much less at the present time (see pl. 6 (b) and (l)). They are so

arranged that the lower notes can be accompanied by their octave or

fourth or fifth. The tessitura of the modern Chinese instrument is

soprano, but it is very probable that the early forms were of consider-

ably lower pitch. It is known from late Bronze Age figured drums,

probably of the fourth century B.C.,1 found in northern Annam,2

that the sheng in use at that time closely resembled the large

forms found among the tribes-people in southern China at the

present day, and accordingly must have had a range approximating

to D-d.

Mention must also be made of the jiun (42), a stringed instrument

used by the Jou for determining the pitch of bells; it consisted of

strings mounted on a resonating table, 7 feet long.

The political unification of China brought about between 250 and

220 B.C. by King Jenq (43) of Chyn (Chyn Shyy Hwangdih) (44) was

followed by the downfall of the unifier's dynasty and the succession

to power of the Han, during whose reign extensive contacts with

various nomadic peoples on the north-western frontier of the Chinese

empire, as well as with central and western Asia and India, led to the

appearance of new musical instruments in Chinese orchestras. Chief

of these was the pyipar (45), a short lute. It is reported to have been

played on horseback3 and seems to have been a short-necked in-

strument with a circular body, four strings, and twelve frets.

1 B. Karlgren, 'The Date of the Early Dong-so'n Culture', Bulletin of the Museum

of Far Eastern Archaeology, xiv (Stockholm, 1942), pp. 1-28.

2 V. Goloubew, 'L'Âge du bronze au Tonkin et dans le Nord-Annam', Bulletin de

l'école française de l'extréme orient, xxix (Hanoy, 1929), pp. 1-46.

3 Liou Shi, Shyhming (46). See L. E. R. Picken, 'The Origin of the Short Lute',

Galpin Society Journal, viii (1955), pp. 32-42.

92

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Jing Farng (47), Imperial Secretary in 45 B.C., devised a stringed instrument after the fashion of a seh, the joen (48), in function resembling the jiun of the Jou, for it was used to fix the sound of the sixty notes into which Jing Farng divided the octave (p. 96).

Some of the earliest representations of zithers, stone chimes, sheng, vertical flutes, panpipes, and the drum known as ingguu (49) occur in the shallow bas-reliefs from Hann times on the walls of the Wuǔ (50) family tombs in Shandong (51) province.1 On other Hann reliefs cross-flutes occur. In some of these Hann scenes the chyn is shown with but five strings.

By late Wey (52) times, that is, some two centuries after the overthrow of the Chinese empire in the third century A.D. by mercenaries settled on the northern frontier, the pyipar begins to appear in bas-reliefs as a four- or five-stringed, pear-shaped, bent-necked lute and may have resembled the gaku biwa of the Japanese court orchestra—an instrument over 3 feet in length.

A vertical angular harp also came to China in late Wey times, and representations are to be seen in the frescoes at Duenhwang (53) and on many stelae of the sixth century A.D.1 According to size the harp had sixteen to twenty-five strings and is referred to in Chinese texts as konghour (54) (pl. 5 (a)). It did not establish itself in China as did other instruments originally imported in court orchestras from abroad.

The Shoosoooin (Nara, Japan) preserves several Chinese pyipars of Tarng date (A.D. 600–900). This was an era of extensive intercourse between China and central Asia. Many new instruments and many types of orchestra were introduced, usually associated with their own dancers, jugglers, or acrobats, characteristically costumed. The size and composition of these orchestras is known from Tarng frescoes in the Thousand Buddha Caves at Duenhwang and from the Tarng histories.

Toy globular flutes with two finger holes occur in Tarng kiln-sites in the neighbourhood of the provincial capital of Syhchuan. Two specimens are shown in pl. 3 (d); both have the form of quasi-human heads. They furnish an instance of the survival as toys of ancient musical instruments whose ritual use has been forgotten.

Relatives of the pyipar in use at the present time, and possibly introduced in Tarng times, are the yuehchyn (55), a four-stringed flat

1 H. E. Fernald, ‘Ancient Chinese Musical Instruments’, Museum Journal (Philadelphia, 1936). Reprinted in Hsiao Ch’ien, A Harp with a Thousand Strings (London, 1944), pp. 395–440.

CHINESE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

93

lute, the strings of which are said to be tuned in pairs a fifth apart;

and the sanshyan (56), a three-stringed flat lute, played with a jade

plectrum; the strings are tuned: do fa do or do re la.

To the same period of importation probably belong the various

bowed instruments, of which a considerable variety are in use in

China today. Bowed instruments are first mentioned in Persia in the

ninth century,1 and a reference to a bowed zither, related to the jeng,

occurs in a Chinese account of a Khitan orchestra playing at the

Chinese court about A.D. 900. An instrument of this kind was in fairly

common use in Pekin up to fifty years ago.2

Bowed lutes (that is, fiddles) arose at a slightly later date, and all

varieties found in China are known collectively as hwuchyn (57)

('barbarian' chyn), suggesting that the instrument came to China

from central Asia. The ellhwu (58) is perhaps the commonest form of

hwuchyn.3 It has a hexagonal tubular wooden body a few inches long,

one end of which is covered with snakeskin, the other end is open;

the whole acts as a resonator. The handle is inserted into the body at

right angles to its long axis. There are two strings of silk-gut tuned a

fifth apart, stopped by the fleshy part of the fingers, and the hair of the

bow passes between the strings. The instrument is played with con-

stant vibrato and glissandi and has a veiled tone of great beauty.

It is interesting to note that a dulcimer in use in south China today

bears the name of yangchyn (59), the 'foreign' zither. It resembles the

Persian dulcimer known as santir, but its distribution on the south-

eastern seaboard suggests that it reached China from the sea rather

than from central Asia.

HISTORY OF THEORY AND NOTATION

The writings of Leu Buhwei from 239 B.C. contain an account of

the making of the pitch-pipes by Ling Luen (60): ling means music

or musician, luen is a rule or to rule.4 The name and the person were

invented in the course of that scientific reconstruction by the Chinese

of their own prehistory which occurred in the period of the Warring

States already referred to (p. 87). There are no grounds for regarding

1 Sachs, The History of Musical Instruments, p. 216.

2 A. C. Moule, op. cit., p. 120. In relation to a number of points in the history of

Chinese instruments see T. Norlind, 'Beiträge zur chinesischen Instrumentengeschichte',

Svensk Tidskrift för Musikforskning, xv (1933), pp. 48-83. See also: F. A. Kuttner,

'The Musical Significance of Archaic Chinese Jades of the Pi-Disk Type', Artibus Asiae,

xvi 1/2 (Ascona, 1953), pp. 25-50.

3 A hwuchyn leads the ensemble in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 3 (b).

4 G. Haloun, Tocharer und Indogermanen (Leipzig, 1926), pp. 156 ff.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

the passage so often quoted from Leu Buhwei as other than a rationalization; it does not concern a historic figure nor does it

include any precise geographical indications—the terms usually translated as place names are in fact general terms for geographical

features:

He [Music Ruler] gathered bamboos in a valley on a mountain pass, taking those grown of uniform bore and thickness, and cut between two

nodes; the length of the piece being three inches and nine tenths, he blew it, making this to be the do of Yellow Bell [the fundamental of the Chinese

system].1

At the present time the scale most characteristic of the Far East (as defined at the beginning of this chapter) is pentatonic without semi-

tones, consisting of three whole tones and two minor thirds, the thirds being separated by one or two whole tones. The scale has the

form:

do re mi sol la.

The ancient names for this series, as pronounced today, are:

gong shang jeau jyy yeu. (62)

The evidence for the existence of five-note melodies in early Jou times is confined to references to the ‘five degrees’, and to the names of the

five notes in texts compiled in the third or fourth centuries B.C. The same texts contain references to the seven sounds or the seven ‘begin-

nings’, and it has been supposed that these indicate that a seven-note scale with two semitones was known even in Jou times. The first

definition of the notes is that given by Symaa Chian in the second century B.C.

The process by which the lowest note (Yellow Bell) engendered the rest of the notes in the Chinese system is also described in the writings

of Leu Buhwei: ‘To the three parts of the generator add one part, making the superior generation. From the three parts of the generator

reject one part, making the lower generation.’2 The interpretation of this passage is that the complete note-series (of which the names are

also given) was obtained by cutting bamboo tubes (of the same diameter) to lengths calculated by alternately subtracting and adding

one-third of the length of the preceding tube, so that the ratio of the length of any pipe to that of the next in the series was as 3:2 or as 3:4.

The notes given by pipes two-thirds of the length of their predecessors in the series were said to belong to the inferior generation; these are

1 Leu Shyh Chuenchiou, v. Guu Yueh (61).

2 Leu Shyh Chuenchiou, vi. Inliuh (63).

PLATE IV

(a)

(a) CHINESE PLAYERS OF MOUTH-ORGAN AND PERCUSSION-CLAPPER

(b) CHINESE SONOROUS STONES AND HAND-DRUM

From Prince Ju Tzayyuh, The Handbook of Music (1596)

PLATE V

(a) CHINESE ROC-HEADED VERTICAL HARP WITH 18 STRINGS

From Chern Yang, Yueh Shu (13th-14th century )

(b) CHINESE 7-STRINGED ZITHER TABLATURE

From the end of the 12th century

For fuller details see pages xiv and 99.

HISTORY OF THEORY AND NOTATION

95

the six female leu (64), made (according to legend) from the singing of the female roc. The six remaining notes were said to belong to the superior generation; these are the six male liuh (65) made (according to legend) from the singing of the male roc. Theoretically this procedure yielded a chain of ascending fifths and descending fourths:

C D E F# G# A#

F G A B C# D#

and, if arranged in ascending order, the note sequence: F, F#, G, G#, A, A#, B, C, C#, D, D#, E.

The liuhleu (66) (the complete note-series) was not a ‘chromatic scale’, but an array of all the notes in the Chinese musical firmament of the third century B.C. The process of generation described in the writings of Leu Buhwei presumably provided an approximate theory, satisfying the desire for order of those engaged at that time in systematizing the sum total of human knowledge. Similarly, the two ‘whole-tone scales’ of the male and female liuh (both leu and liuh are referred to collectively as the twelve liuh) were the result of a classification of the series into two groups by origin; there is no evidence that the Chinese musical genius at any time found expression in melodies referable to whole-tone scales.

It is certain that melodies making use of various scales must have existed before the liuhleu. The latter provided a theoretical means of deriving an array of notes, any one of which (again in theory) could act as do (that is, gong) in the five-note series. A pentatonic scale has five loci of modal inversion: that is, the series may begin (and end) on each of the five notes in turn, giving five modes. Each mode takes the name of the note which is finalis, which ends melodies in that mode. It is probable that the fact that different melodies were in different modes had been recognized at a very early date, and that transposition of the modes, changing the liuh selected as tonic, was practised.

Obviously, variation in the unit of length on which the length of the fundamental pitch-pipe was based at different times must have meant that absolute pitch was never attained. Under the Jou the minimal length of the Yellow Bell pipe is estimated to have been 20 centimetres. Europeans have accepted pitches of F (Amiot), E (Courant), D (van Aalst), E (Mahillon).1 For convenience the value of F will be adopted here.

The fact that so many of the liuhleu bear the name of jong (bell) suggests that part of the original note-series may have been a set of

1 For references see Bibliography, pp. 482-3.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

bells (like the celestas or kettle-gong chimes in the Balinese orchestra).

It is known that by 500 B.C. bells were cast in sets of six or seven

members bearing, in some cases, names similar to those of bells in the

liuhleu series. It is also possible that the names of the liuhleu were

originally applied to a note-series differing from the liuhleu of Leu

Buhwei.

Hann Dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D. 220) to Swei Dynasty (581–618)

While references in Hwainantzyy (67) suggest that a scale of seven

notes was known in the second or first century B.C., there can be no

doubt as to its use in the time of Jing Farng in 40 B.C.; nor can there

be any doubt about the practice of transposition. Jing Farng gives

an exact definition: ‘At the Winter solstice one takes F (Yellow Bell)

as do, G as re, A as mi, C as so, D as la, E as si (becoming do) and

B as fe (becoming so), as the notes of the scale. Since the liuh(s)

corresponding to the day act in turn as the fundamental, re and so

follow (the fundamental) in accordance with their nature.’1

It was under the Hann emperor Wuudih (68) (141–87 B.C.) that the

Imperial Bureau of Music (Yuehfuи) (69) was founded. This was

responsible for supervising rites, ceremonies, and music of all kinds

(foreign, court, and folk-music); for preparing archives of national

melodies; and for establishing and maintaining the correct pitch of

the liuhleu. In an attempt to bring the last note in the cycle of the

liuh nearer to coincidence with the octave of the fundamental, Jing

Farng in 40 B.C. increased the number of liuh from 12 to 60. But even

when continued through five cycles, the twelfth fifth of the fifth

cycle would still differ from the octave of the fundamental—always

supposing that a stringed instrument such as Jing Farng used (the

joen) could be made to produce accurately the sixty theoretical liuh.

That some notation or tablature existed in early Hann times is clear

from the beginning of the story, already referred to (pp. 87–88) of

Duke Ling (70) of Wey, recounted by Symaa Chian. Ling heard a zither

tune played by spirits and requested his music master, Jiuan (71), to

write it down for him. Jiuan did so and asked for time to practise it.

Symaa Chian, writing in the second century B.C., was therefore fami-

liar with some method of zither notation.

The decay of the practice of ritual transposition during the next

three or four hundred years may perhaps be correlated with the dis-

turbed state of the empire during the period of the Three Kingdoms.

1 Maurice Courant, ‘Essai historique sur la musique classique des Chinois’ in

Encyclopédie de la musique (Lavignac and La Laurencie), 1re partie, i (Paris, 1913),

p. 94.

HISTORY OF THEORY AND NOTATION

97

Not until the Swei (72) dynasty (581-618) do we again find explicit reference to transposition in relation to the lunar calendar.

In the early part of the sixth century a further theoretical extension of the series of liuh took place, the cycle of fifths being extended to 360 liuh; but while some attempt seems to have been made to put into practice the system of Jing Farng, the system of 360 liuh was undoubtedly of theoretical interest only.

In 587, Jenq Yih (73), Duke of Peh (74), in a memorial on the subject of ancient and contemporary musical practice, showed how to vary the tuning of the pyipar ('twisting the string-posts', that is, the tuning-pegs) so as to extend the range available, and make 'twelve yunn corresponding to the twelve liuh'; and the subsequent formation of eighty-four systems by transposition, each of the twelve liuh serving as initial.1 The term 'system' (diaw) (75) includes both mode and key in the Western sense; that is to say, for the Chinese as for the Greeks the notion of a change of mode and a change of pitch were inseparable. The twelve keys (F, F#, G, G#, A, A#, B, C, C#, D, D#, E) are known in Chinese as the twelve yunn (76); the seven modes are the seven diaw (the seven different kinds of systems) and this expression is identical with that used for the total number of different systems (scales in the Western sense) possible, 12 × 7 = 84 diaw. If this appears confusing, it is so even to the Chinese. This is due to the confusion between a change in key and a change in mode, which arises because on an instrument with a fixed scale (a bell-chime, for example), a change in mode must also mean a change in pitch, that is a change in key. In due course the proposal made by Jenq Yih was accepted, the legitimacy of the seven-note scale was recognized, and the practice of transposition was re-established, although this did not receive imperial favour and take effect until the next dynasty, that of the Tarng.

Tarng Dynasty (618-907)

In 628, the emperor Taytzong (77) approved the eighty-four systems: the seven notes from below upwards 'form a scale: yunn. In general, the twelve systems of do (that is the do mode in its twelve keys) all have the true fundamental, they have no sound lower than the fundamental. . . . The twelve systems of re all contain a note lower than the initial, this is the fundamental. The twelve systems of mi have two notes lower than the initial; these are the fundamental

1 Courant, op. cit., p. 96, mistranslates. For further discussion of central Asian influence in Chinese music see H. G. Farmer, 'Reciprocal influences in music twixt the Far and Middle East', Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1934), pp. 327-42.

B 3608

H

98 THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

and re.'1 Each liuh starts a scale of the type: F, G, A, B, C, D, E, F, and each of these twelve scales is called a yunn. Each liuh also acts as each degree of the standard scale in turn, forming the initial to seven systems (modes in the Western sense) known as diaw. Sixty of the diaw are principal systems founded on the five points of modal inversion corresponding to the five-note scale; the remaining twenty-four are complementary systems founded on the auxiliary notes. The different systems are defined by naming the liuh which is do, followed by the degree which names the mode. Thus ‘Yellow Bell (F) do’ is the do mode on F, that is, with F as initial (and fundamental); ‘D# re’ is the re mode on D#, that is, with D# as fundamental (do) and re of the scale of D sharp (E#) as initial.

A single Tarng music manuscript has been found in the famous Thousand Buddha Caves at Duenhwang.2 It includes ‘Emptying-the-cup Music’ and is apparently written in a tonal notation, some elements of which are indistinguishable from numerals. This notation has not as yet been deciphered. It has affinity with the Sonq (78) notation used by Jiang Kwei (79) (p. 109) and with that of Ju Shii (80) and other Sonq writers, as well as with the gaku biwa notation of the Japanese court orchestra (p. 147). The structure of this composition will be considered later (p. 105). A tune of this name is mentioned in the section on rites and music in the Tarng History (190).

Song (960–1126) and Southern Sonq (1127–1279) Dynasties

From the end of the ninth century onwards, the imperial music again fell into disorder, and a statement made in 959 reveals that only seven notes, forming the Yellow Bell scale, are in use; the other eighty-three systems have disappeared. Of many hundreds of melodies in the eighty-four systems only nine survived and all of these were attributed to Yellow Bell (F) do. During the decline of the Sonq, the invading Tartars were practising a simplified version of Tarng ritual music, basing their tuning on the pyipar. The Jin (81), who conquered the Sonq, made use of a set of twelve hymns for all ritual circumstances, comparable to the twelve hymns of the Tarng. In the thirteenth century the Mongol invaders were again practising ritual transposition.

In addition to the pyipar notation already mentioned, the Sonq

1 Courant, op. cit., p. 97.

2 Bibliothèque nationale de France; Collection Pelliot, No. 3808 vo. Professor In Faaluu of Pekin National University possesses a photographic copy which I have examined and of which I possess a written copy.

HISTORY OF THEORY AND NOTATION

99

poet and musician, Jiang Kwei,1 made use of another notation, probably of very great antiquity, namely that of the names of the liuh. In four of his songs he also uses two notes sharpened by one or two commas, thereby extending the scale to nine notes (p. 110). In all cases the fractional tones are approached from, and quitted for, the note below, so that they are heard as a microtonal sharpening of two of the notes of a seven-note scale.

Jiang Kwei is also the first composer for the seven-stringed zither whose work survives in a contemporary tablature (pl. 5 (b)). This is based on these principles: each string is represented by one of the numerals from one to seven (82); the action of the right hand—whether the string is plucked with a forward or a backward motion, and which of the fingers 1–4 is performing the operation—is indicated by abbreviated characters written over, under, or embracing the number of the string concerned; the string may be open—indicated by an abbreviated character written over the complex—or stopped, in which case the finger of the left hand doing the stopping, and the point of stopping in relation to the nodes of the string, are indicated; the position adopted when playing harmonics is indicated by a prefatory character, as is the return to the usual position. The tablature of Jiang Kwei differs from that in use today in the very restricted use of ornaments and of ligatures, both of which are produced by shifting the position of stopping after the string has been set in motion. Jiang Kwei’s tablature is transcribed and the work described on p. 111.

The notation most widely used for flute music and songs, up to the end of the empire and the founding of the republic in 1912, first appeared in China in Song times. Ju Shii makes use of this notation, taken from books of popular music, and equates it with the other Song notation already referred to, possibly developed for the pyipar.

Yuan Dynasty (84) (1271–1368)

In the first Mongol dynasty of the Yuan, the ritual music was carefully preserved and the practice of transposition cultivated. It was under this dynasty that the diatonic major scale was introduced into China as the main mode, and it is in the flute notation associated with this scale that all music of the theatre is written to this day. The characters for the note-series: c′ d′ e′ f′ g′ a′ b′ c″ d″, are given in the Glossary of Characters (84a); alternative forms are omitted.

In the latter part of the Yuan dynasty, and from the rise of the

1 Bairshyr Dawren Gechcu, Syhbuh Tsongkan (83) (Shanghai, 1929).

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ming onwards, the practice of ritual transposition again fell into disuse.

Ming Dynasty (1368-1628)

During the Ming dynasty there appeared what is perhaps the most remarkable of Chinese theoretical works on music: The Handbook of Music (85),1 by Prince Ju Tzayyuh (86) of the house of Jenq (87). This work, running into nineteen volumes, is a complete survey of music, dance, and ritual in ancient China. It attempted a reconstruction of the music of Jou times, providing full scores of many ritual hymns, and proposed an equal-tempered chromatic scale a hundred years before Werckmeister made the same proposal in Europe. Not content with establishing a just scale, Ju Tzayyuh reached the concept of equal temperament and succeeded in calculating values for the length and diameter of a series of equally tempered liuh: an equal-tempered chromatic scale of two octaves.

This dynasty saw the publication of superb collections of zither tunes in tablature.2 The number of abbreviated characters in use had increased considerably from Sonq times, judging by the single example of Sonq tablature from Jiang Kwei. This was due to the development of the finger technique and to the increased use of ornaments and ligatures of various kinds.

Ching Dynasty (88) (1644-1911)

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, in the reign of Kangshi (89), the ritual music was restored, and the practice of transposition reintroduced. It was also at this time, Tzayyuh forgotten, that the octave was divided into fourteen steps, in an attempt to combine the process of derivation through the cycle of fifths with the octave standard. This scale differed from that of the flutes and chimes on the one hand and of the stringed instruments on the other, and the official melodies of the Ching cannot be played on an equal-tempered keyboard instrument without gross distortion.

At the present time, the ritual music survives only, if at all, in the Confucian temple at the home of Confucius at Cheufuh (90). Knowledge of the systems has decayed until a majority of the melodies in the modern repertoire of the seven-stringed zither are in the do mode on F. Even among zither players, who as a class are knowledgeable in the old music, confusion exists between a tuning, a key, and a mode.

1 Yuehliuh Chyuanshu (85).

2 R. H. van Gulik, op. cit., p. 85.

HISTORY OF THEORY AND NOTATION

101

In addition to staff notation imported from the West, the Chinese

also make use of a sort of sol-fa system developed by the Japanese,

representing the notes of the diatonic scale by the numerals 1–7. For

homophonic music this is typographically simpler than staff notation.

Practically all collections of popular songs published in the past ten

years in China have been written in this notation. The first four bars

of Ex. 209 (p. 127) would be written as follows:

5|5 65 4 42|5 0 45|5 65 4 42|5 0

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

Jouard Chyn Dynasties (before 206 B.C.)

No specimens of music survive in any text earlier than Tarng times,

so that our knowledge of early and late Jou music is limited to

descriptions of orchestras, names of songs associated with a particu-

lar ritual or with particular occasions, &c. A passage from the Shujing

(91), the Canon of Documents, provides support for the view that

Chinese music was essentially ‘logogenic’ in character at a time con-

siderably earlier than the period of classical opera, in describing which

Sachs makes use of this term.1 In Shuenn’s Code (92) we read: ‘Poetry

expresses the will; song prolongs the expression; music depends on

the prolongation.’ In a subsequent chapter2 we are given some idea of

the nature of ritual music:

Kwei [the director of music] said, when the sonorous stones are struck

lightly or heavily, when chyn and seh are struck lightly or heavily, and their

sounds alternate with human voices, the spirits of the ancestors come: the

guest of Yu [the emperor Shuenn] takes his place, the crowd of princes

display their virtue in mutual courtesy. Down below, the flutes [double

vertical flutes] and the small drums play together as soon as the signal is

given by the wooden trough and cease as soon as the signal is given by the

tiger-scraper. The mouth-organs and the bells play in the intervals.

Prince Tzayyuh, writing before 1595, chose the ‘Hymn for the

Sacrifice to Confucius’, as played in the sixteenth century, to illustrate

the ancient practice of transposition. The melody dates from the four-

teenth century and may retain something of the character of the cor-

responding hymn performed in Tarng times. To suppose, as did

Tzayyuh, that it represents the music of the Jou, 2,000 years before

his time, would appear unwise. The hymn illustrates not only trans-

position into five keys other than the initial key (each key being one

1 The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 137.

2 Shujing, Yushu Yihjyi (93).

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tone higher than the preceding key) but also the constant distance of

a fourth between the accompanying orchestra and the voices. By a

brilliant emendation of a passage from the Joulii which, though it

made cosmological sense as it stood, made no musical sense, Tzayyuh

produces the following formula: ‘The instruments play in F, the chant

is in A sharp . . . for the sacrifice to the celestial spirits. For the sacri-

fice to the terrestial spirits the instruments play in G, the chant is in

C. . . .'1 Sachs points out the similarity of this practice to that of one

type of medieval organum: the organum (originally an instrument)

accompanied the cantus at the fourth or fifth below.

Ex. 177

This is the first stanza of the hymn quoted by Tzayyuh; the bar

lines mark the ends of the four-word lines and the commas mark the

rhymes. In this type of transposition the melody is transposed in the

Western sense, without change in mode. But Tzayyuh also gives an

example of transposition involving a change in mode as well as in

pitch. While the evidence that the Jou did anything of the kind is

slender, the effect is enchanting, as the following example shows. It

is the ‘Hymn for the Sacrifice to the Imperial Ancestors’, first in its

original form (do mode on F) and then in the first modal transposition

(mi mode on D):2

Ex. 178

Ex. 179

1 Courant, op. cit., p. 102.

2 Ibid., pp. 114, 115.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

103

One of the most remarkable aspects of the work of Tzayyuh is his reconstruction of the orchestral accompaniment to the ritual melodies, based on his own interpretations of ancient texts and on those of the Sonq Confucian philosopher, Ju Shii. Of this reconstruction perhaps the most brilliant feature is the elucidation of the ancient practice of prolonging a note, on plucked stringed instruments (such as chyn and seh) whose sound quickly decays, by means of a rapidly executed figuration-the procedure known as tsawmann (94). In a phrase used by performers of his day to tune their instruments, the Prince discovered what he believed to be the vestiges of the old tsawmann: the intervals of the octave and the fifth were played in succession to words meaning ‘the moon is bright, the wind is soft’. The following example sets out in score the opening line of the second stanza of the ‘Hymn from the Temple of the Ancestors’. The figuration differs in minor details from that given by Courant, and the mouth-organ part has been converted into chords of octave and fifth or fourth. The pitch of the mouth-organ may well be an octave lower than that at which it is written.1

Ex. 180

In addition to the ritual orchestra already described, there was a military orchestra, which included many varieties of drums, bells, and cymbals; this was also used in various exorcistic rites.

Hann Dynasty (202 B.C.–A.D. 220)

The imperial orchestra of Hann times comprised four different

1 G. E. Moule, ‘Notes on the Ting-chi, or half-yearly sacrifice to Confucius’, Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, xxxiii (Shanghai, 1901), pp. 37–73, may be consulted for an account of the Confucian ritual as it survived at the turn of the century.

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sections and employed more than 800 musicians. A great increase in

the number and variety of drums in use as compared with the previous

dynasty is to be noted; their designation by local names suggests that

regional music was played.

During this period occurred the first stages in the evolutionary pro-

cess which led finally to the development of Chinese opera. As in the

evolution of Greek drama, a performance originally of religious and

even of magical significance came to be repeated for the sake of its

value as entertainment. In Jou times there had existed a ceremony of

exorcism performed by a wizard, the fangshiang (95): this consisted

in dances and songs executed by a troop of performers masked as

animals and led by the wizard. It was made use of on two occasions:

in the annual nuo (96) ceremony for driving away disease; and at

funerals, to drive away the ghost. In Hann texts there appears for

the first time the expression koeileei (97) used, apparently, as a

synonym for fangshiang, and this term survives to the present

(though written with graphic variants) as a term for marionettes of

all kinds (98). What is unusual in the history of the Chinese theatre

is the importance of the puppet theatre as an intermediate step

between ceremony and entertainment by human actors.1 In Hann

times the musical accompaniment for the fangshiang-koeileei per-

formance of the gentry probably consisted of an orchestra of strings,

flute, and handbells. The strings were chyn, seh, pyipar, and jeng,

and the flute was a vertical flute, shiau (99). This was the band used

for military and general purposes in the Court. The shiau and hand-

bells were lacking from the popular orchestra, however, which in-

cluded the mouth-organ and the cross-flute, dyi (100). It seems

probable that in the transformation of the koeileei from an exorcistic

ceremony to an entertainment of songs, dances, and music, there

was also a change in the status of its music from that of the court

to that of the common people.

Tarng Dynasty (618-907)

The only specimen2 of Tarng music supposedly transcribed from a

contemporary document, and having some claim to be regarded as

authentic, is the melody for the first song in the Book of Songs, printed

by Prince Tzayyuh in 1596. According to Tzayyuh the melody was

taken from the edition of the classics engraved on stone in the ancient

1 Souen K'ai-ti, 'L'origine et le développement du théâtre des marionnettes chinoises';

Bulletin du centre franco-chinois d'études sinologiques, i (Pekin, 1944), pp. 81–105

(summary in French) (194).

2 The melodies preserved by Ju Shii may perhaps be included here. See p. 109.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

105

capital, Shi An (101), in Tarng times. Engraving began in 835 and was

finished in 837.1

This melody is one of those which Tzayyuh scores for drum, clap-

per, seh, sonorous stones, and voice. Another score is for voice, chyn,

seh, two sorts of bells, sonorous stones of two kinds, clapper, mortar,

tiger, drum, and small drum. The tune is remarkable in that it con-

stantly avoids re but makes frequent use of both the auxiliary notes,

fe and si. The chords supplied by Tzayyuh use only notes in the mode.

Each four-syllable line of the poem is separated from the next by two

bars of percussion, and there are 3½ bars of percussion at the end of

each of the five stanzas. The first stanza only is quoted here. In

Waley's translation the text runs:

'Fair, fair', cry the ospreys

On the island in the river,

'Lovely is this noble lady,

Fit bride for our lord'.2

The mode is mi on F. The voice sings the top part.

Ex. 181

An indisputably authentic relic of Tarng music survives in the

manuscript from the Thousand Buddha Caves at Duenhwang already

referred to (p. 98). From external features this is a suite in eight move-

ments, headed as follows: 'Emptying-the-Cup Music; another slow

tune; another tune; quick tune; another tune; another slow tune;

quick tune; another slow tune.' These terms may well have a technical

significance.3 With the exception of the first section ('Emptying-the-

Cup Music') and the last, each movement includes a repeat and a

1 Professor E. G. Pulleylblank, Professor of Chinese Language and History in the

University of Cambridge, has recently (November 1954) examined the stone-engraved

ninth-century text of the Book of Songs in Shi An on my behalf. He reports that there is no

trace of notation on the stones. This discrepancy between Prince Tzayyuh's ascription

and the surviving stone-text at Shi An has also been noted by Professor Yang Inliou of

the Central Institute for Musicological Research, Pekin. Thus the authenticity of Prince

Tzayyuh's 'Tarng' melody remains unconfirmed.

2 A. Waley, The Book of Songs (London, 1937), p. 81.

3 This is undoubtedly the case for the term here translated as 'quick', which survives

as a designation for final movements in the suites that form part of the repertoire of the

Imperial Musicians of the Japanese Court (p. 147). (See H. Tanabe, Nihon Ongaku

Kōwa (Tokyo, 1926), pp. 534 ff.). It would be of the greatest interest to compare the

surviving part-books of the Japanese versions of the 'Emptying-the-Cup Music' with the

Tarng manuscript.

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coda. In the Tarng History this work (or a work with this title) is

specifically referred to as a dahcheu (102) and is said to consist of at

least ten movements.

The structure of this work corresponds to some extent with what

is known from other sources of the structure of the ‘extended

melody’ (dahcheu) of Tarng and Sonq times.1 These orchestral com-

positions consisted of a number of movements (piann) (103), each of

which might be divisible into several subsections. The character of

these varied in the different types of dahcheu. The Tarng poet, Bair

Jiuyih (Po Chü-I) (105) refers to: ‘free prelude’, ‘middle prelude’,

and poh (106) or ‘broaching the theme’. Some types include as many

as twelve different movements. This structure has been compared

with that of the suite in western Europe; but a more direct comparison

would seem to be with the structure of Indian rāgas, with the Turkish fasıl, and with the nūba, as it survives in Morocco and Algeria.2

With regard to this last type of composition, it is interesting to note

that the dahcheu occasionally included vocal movements. It is surely

not without significance that the extended melodies of the seven-

stringed zither repertoire are always referred to today as dahcheu. As

we shall see, their structure offers points of resemblance to the struc-

ture of Tarng and Sonq dahcheu as inferred from literary sources, and

it is reasonable to suppose that the zither compositions of the present

day, lasting twenty to thirty minutes, echo an instrumental form

which flourished from the seventh to the twelfth centuries.

From the period of the northern Chyi (107) (550–77) to the end of

the Tarng (905), the music current in court circles on all but state

occasions was known as hwuyueh (108): barbarian music. The fact

that this foreign music was associated with the life of the court makes

it improbable that the foreign styles had as yet become current among

the people, though some influence cannot be excluded even at this

early date. Since the popular music was essentially secular, it is not

described in any of the records; but it seems probable that the musical

accompaniment of the koeileei performances in Tarng times was a

survival of the court military orchestra of Hann and Wey times.3

The Tarng emperor Shiuanzong (109) (713–55) maintained a troop

of 300 actors, founded by himself in 714 and referred to as the Pear

Garden; and to this period are traditionally ascribed certain melodies

1 In Faaluh, ‘Tarng-Sonq Dahcheu jy Laiyuan jyi chyi Tzuujy’, Wuuchang Hwajong

Dahshyue Gwoshye Yanjiou Luennwen Juankan, i. 4 (Dahlii, 1945) (104).

2 See p. 98 and Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 290. A comparison

with the Turkish fasıl is in some respects closer than with the pešrev, instanced by Sachs.

3 Souen K’ai-ti, op. cit.

still current in the Chinese theatre. The following example is part of a

duet with accompaniment for cross flute, drum, and gong, transcribed

from a gramophone record and ascribed to Shiuantzong himself.1 It

occurs in the opera, The Little Shepherd:

Ex. 182

The purely pentatonic character of this and other operatic melodies

has been regarded as evidence of their antiquity, but as the examples

of the Tarng (?) melody '“Fair, fair”, cry the ospreys' and the Sonq

melodies of the next section show, it is questionable whether any such

deduction is legitimate. One would not expect the music of the Court

of the time of Shiuantzong to be purely pentatonic. On the other hand

such a melody might well be an echo of the popular koeileei music of

1 G. Soulié de Morant and A. Gailhard, Théâtre et musique modernes en Chine

(Paris, 1926), p. 134. See M. Granet, Fêtes et chansons anciennes de la Chine (Paris, 1919)

for commentary and translation. A slightly different version of Ex. 182 is

recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 2 (c).

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Tarng times, which indeed seems to have provided the basis for the development of classical opera (largely pentatonic) in Sonq times.

TABLE SHOWING THE COMPOSITION OF VARIOUS TARNG ORCHESTRAS

(after In Faaluu, op. cit.)

Instruments

Sonorous stones

Stone-chimes

Bells

Bell-chimes

Iron chimes

Conches

Copper horns

Long vertical flutes

Short vertical flutes

Cross flutes

Chyr flutes

Free reeds

Other reeds

Halftube- and board-zithers

Lutes

Vertical harps

Drums

The number of each sort of instrument used is shown in the appropriate column. Where a figure in brackets is given, this is the number of each of as many kinds of instrument as are shown by the number outside the bracket. Thus, under ‘Drums’, the Jioutzy orchestra contained one of each of 8 different types of drum; this is indicated in the form: 8(1). The category ‘Other reeds’ includes both oboe- and clarinet-type reeds.

Though practically nothing of the music of Tarng times has survived, a great deal is known from contemporary accounts of the nature of the orchestras employed in the palace, the number of performers taking part, the costumes they, and the dancers and jugglers associated with particular orchestras, wore, and the names of the melodies they playeded.1 The composition of these orchestras has recently been reviewed2 and the table above is modified from a table

1 H. Trefzger, ‘Das Musikleben der Tang-Zeit’, Sinica, xiii (Stuttgart, 1938). See also Courant, op. cit., p. 192, Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 150, and Waley, The Life and Times of Po Chü-I (London, 1949), pp. 150–5. 2 In Faaluu, op. cit.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

109

in this review. Foreign orchestras in China during this dynasty included orchestras from India, Bokhara, East Turkestan, Cambodia,

Burma, Annam, Tibet, and Mongolia.

Song Dynasties (960-1279)

This is the first period in the history of Chinese music from which printed music of the time survives to the present. The famous Song

Confucian philosopher Ju Shii, whose ideas exhibit some affinity with the monadology of Leibniz,1 left twelve melodies for twelve songs from the

Book of Songs.2 The following is a setting of the first song, of which we have already seen what is possibly a Tarng version (p. 105):3

Ex. 183

This melody is in several respects remarkable. It is heptatonic considered as a whole, but the first stanza is entirely pentatonic and the

last stanza is pentatonic except for the last line: the mode is stated to be re on D sharp but is in fact a mixture of this and do on F. Ju Shii

ascribes all twelve melodies to a Tarng source and to the reign of the emperor Shiuantzong, Kaiyuan (713-741).

A figure from Sonq times deserving of much more attention than he has as yet received, either from Chinese or from Western scholars,

is the poet and composer, Jiang Kwei, the White Stone Taoist. His works include Nine Songs for Yueh (111) (Yueh is the ancient name

for Jehjiang and Jiangshi Provinces) written in liu-hleu notation; a song with zither accompaniment and interlude (p. 111); and a number

of tunes in the Sonq pyipar(?)-notation which, though they have received some attention,4 have not as yet been transcribed.

1 E. R. Hughes, The Great Learning and the Mean-in-Action (London, 1942), p. 167.

2 Ju Shii, Yilii Jingjiuan Tongjiee Shyyueh Pian (110). Reprinted in the Yueh Dean (168) of Hwang Tzuoo (1692).

3 Stanza-divisions following Waley, Songs, p. 81.

4 Shiah Cherngdao, ‘Bairshyr Gecheu Parngpuu Biann’, Yannjing Shyyebaw (113) (Peiping, 1932). According to a recent report from Pekin (Dahgong Baw, 7. ix, 1954), this

notation has now been deciphered; and a substantial body of Sonq music in the same notation has newly been discovered.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Of the nine songs for the people of Yueh, the first six make use of

only the seven notes of the diatonic scale, the mode being do or re in

various keys. The text of the following example describes the singer

awaiting the goddess of the Wuuchang Gulf (112), pouring a libation

and riding the waves. The bar-lines mark the end of the lines (deter-

mined from the sense and from the verse-form); the comma indicates

the caesura; and the double bar marks the ends of the stanzas. The

mode is re on G sharp.

Ex. 184 The Spirit of the Billows

Four of the songs of Jiang Kwei make use of fractional tones

(p. 99). In this example the mode is la on C. Fractional tones are

indicated by diamond-shaped notes, following Levis.1

Ex. 185 General Parng

The single song with zither accompaniment by the same composer

is prefaced by explicit directions for tuning the seven strings to the

scale: F G A B d e g. The song is entitled 'Old Regrets'. It is a

woman who sings, considering with bitterness the passing of her beauty.

After the first stanza there is an interlude in harmonics for zither

alone; at the end of this the normal position is resumed and the voice

enters once more. In the transcription below (Ex. 186) the tablature

has been emended, where necessary. All notes not a direct transcrip-

1 J. H. Levis, The Foundations of Chinese Musical Art (Peiping, 1936), p. 175.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

111

tion from the text are printed small in the transcription.1The bar-lines

mark the end of the lines (determined from the sense); the double bar

marks the end of the stanzas (explicit in the layout of the text); and

the comma marks a caesura. The tablature does not indicate the dura-

tion of the notes; the minim values are supplied on the principle that

a note at the end of a line is likely to be prolonged for at least two

beats of the basic note-value. A change in the direction of the stems

of successive notes at the same pitch, but played in different positions,

indicates that the timbre is changed. Though the finger technique is

rudimentary compared with later zither technique, the variety of posi-

tions in which the same note is taken, and hence the variety of timbre,

is very considerable. If the example is played on the piano, the sus-

taining pedal and una corda should be depressed until the end of each

'bar', and as much variety in touch as possible should be given to

notes at the same pitch. The voice presumably reduced the zither part

to the range of one octave.

Ex. 186

From various sources it is known that the street performances of

the koeileei in Sonq times were accompanied by the music known as

chingyueh (114).2This was the term used by Swei and Tarng writers

to cover the old-style (non-ritual) music of Hann and Wey times; the

term persisted until Sonq times and was used in contrast to hwuyueh

1Versions in the Syhbuh Tsongkan and in the Cheangtsuen Tsongshu have both been

utilized in making this transcription. See pl. 5 (b). 2Soun K'ai-ti, op. cit.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

(barbarian music). The chingyueh orchestra included several instruments lacking in the imperial band of Sonq times, such as the fang-sheang (115) (a chime of sixteen pieces of iron),1 sheng, dyi, &c. It seems it was in Sonq times that the evolution from the puppet to the human theatre occurred, and that this development took place through an intermediate step of living puppets, that is, of children dressed as adults. Two separate types of performance developed from the street entertainment of the ‘flesh puppets’; each consisted of dances and songs. They differed with respect to the origin of their music and of the texts of their songs. One type made use of the words of songs originally belonging to the repertoire of secular entertainments in the palace—the yann (116) (banquet) music of Tarng and Sonq times, but their music was the chingyueh, in which the cross-flute, dyi, was the chief melodic instrument supporting the voice; this type is known as Nancheu (117) (Southern Songs) in the repertoire which survives to this day as classical opera. The other type made use of the words and music of yannyueh songs, and the chief instrument supporting the voice was the pyipar. This was the origin of the Beeicheu (118) (Northern Songs) of the repertoire of classical opera. The names of the two genres are understandable, since the Northern Songs were strongly influenced by foreign music reaching China from the north, while the Southern Songs reflected the musical atmosphere of the more conservative south.

If anything of the music of these entertainments survives, it has undoubtedly undergone constant revision at the hands of successive generations of performers. The following three ‘overtures’ are supposed to be of pre-Yuan date.2 They are entirely pentatonic and might well belong to the Nancheu tradition, but there is no documentary evidence of their antiquity.

Ex. 187

1 A. C. Moule. op. cit., p. 146.

2 Soulié de Morant and Gailhard, op. cit., p. 121.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

113

3

The lyrics of Nancheu and Beeicheu were written in a special verse form, the tsyr (119), in which the lines are of irregular length and the syllables succeed each other in an ordered pattern of tones. The Chinese language is essentially monosyllabic, and since there are no double or triple initial consonants and only two finals in the northern dialect (for example), the sound equipment is poor. The number of different monosyllables is increased to something less than 1,400 by pronouncing each syllable with four different varieties of melodic accent (in the northern dialect)—the four tones. They have been represented in staff notation by Courant1 as follows:

Ex. 188

I

II

or

II

III

IV

The melodic accents are functionally neums,2 and the types of melodic movement displayed in the four sheng (120) (the tones) are described as level, rising, falling, and entering. Shen Iau (fifth century) (121) was the first to make deliberate use of a pattern of accents, level and oblique (pyng (122) and tseh (123)), in a new style of poem, the liuhshy (124), in lines of five or seven syllables. At the end of the Tarng dynasty, one of the types of poem making use of a conscious neum-pattern was the tsyr.3 The length of line is irregular in this type, and the poem is held together by the repetition, with variations, of a number of different unit patterns of tonal accents. If we represent the level tones by – and oblique tones (rising, falling, and entering) by / the structure of a poem of this kind can be displayed diagrammatically as shown overleaf.

The melody of many Chinese songs is but an exaggeration of the tonal accents and is inherent in the first pyngtseh draft of the poem; a melody devised according to the pyngtseh scheme shown here, by

1 M. Courant, La Langue chinoise parlée (Paris, 1914), p. 19.

2 J. H. Levis, op. cit., pp. 21 ff.

3 A. Hoffmann, Die Lieder des Li Yü (Cologne, 1950), pp. 105 ff.

B 3608

I

114 THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

the Ching poet-composer, Shieh Yuanhwai (125), is transcribed on p. 125. The importance of the tsyr form in the history of Chinese music lay in its providing a great variety of types of melodic structure of considerable subtlety which could be used as moulds for new poems.

-- -- / 1

-- / -- /

-- / 1 -- /

-- -- / 1

-- / 1

• / 1 1

• / 1 1 -- /

-- / 1 -- /

-- -- / 1

The cheu was a quasi-popular development of the Sonq tsyr; it adhered less strictly to the tonal and rhythmic structure of the original pyngtseh draft; it was less ‘classical’ in its language and often betrayed local dialectical peculiarities in its tonal structure.

Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368)

Although there existed in Sonq times a type of theatrical performance known as Tzarjiuh (126) (literally ‘Variety’), it was not until Yuan times that complete operas, comprising action, declamation, and songs, were devised.1 The Yuancheu (127), as these works are known collectively, are of high literary quality and are the first representatives of the dramatic genre in the history of Chinese literature. While the importance of the Yuancheu as literature has been recognized by Western writers,2 the fact that these were operas, not plays in the Western sense, has tended to be overlooked, and their very remarkable musical structure is virtually an unexplored field for future study.

At the time of the coming to power of the Yuan, two schools of opera were already established, the northern and southern schools of the Sonq dynasty; their differences reflect differences between the two regions in temperament and in contacts, and affect versification, music, and style in the broad sense. Musically the schools differed in that the southern school was strictly pentatonic and used the cross-flute as the chief accompanying instrument (if strings were used they

1 Chiang Un-kai, K'ouen K'iu -- le théâtre chinois ancien (Paris, 1932).

2 A. P. L. Bazin Aîné, Théâtre chinois (Paris, 1838); Le Siècle des Youen (Paris, 1854).

were secondary); while the northern school made use of the heptatonic scale, with free use of semitones, and the accompanying instrument was a stringed instrument. At the beginning of the Yuan, the northern school was particularly active and works composed entirely in the northern style were known by the same name as the Sonq ‘variety’ theatre, that is, as tzarjiuh.

One of the most fascinating musical features of these early operas (a feature still characteristic of Chinese opera) is the use of a label, the cheupair (128) or song-label, for each verse-form. The cheupair is a fragment of a cheu poem, usually consisting of three characters, and its function is to recall to the reader the structure of that particular verse-form. Its function may be compared with that of the metrical formulas in hymnals in the West which indicate to what type of melody a hymn text can be sung or for what texts a given tune is suitable. Very often the author was guided by association in his choice of a particular cheupair in a particular situation. Thus he might use the cheupair : shii shiangferng (129) (‘delights in conjunction’) if he felt a correspondence between the situation to be presented and the spirit of this cheupair. Since a particular cheupair was limited to a particular mode, this system tended to reinforce the association of that mode with a particular verse-form and a particular emotional situation. The number of different melodies current was (and still is) far smaller than the number of lyrics. A casual opera-goer, who did not happen to know a particular lyric, would nevertheless have some clue to the emotional situation, if he were familiar with the tune. This is still true at the present time and is essential to the average person’s enjoyment of opera, since the lyrics are written for the most part in a language too literary to be comprehended by the ear alone.

Up to 1297 the northern was the more important of the two schools, but after this date mixed works, including acts in both northern and southern styles, were written, and by the end of the Yuan the southern school had become dominant. Five works of the ancient southern school survive, of which the most famous is the Pyipar Jih (130), The Story of the Lute, by Gau Ming (131). These were written at the end of the Yuan or at the beginning of the Ming. At the present time they are better known from private reading than from stage performance and are often played by amateurs en famille.

Ex. 189 is an overture said to date from the end of the thirteenth century and often made use of in The Little Shepherd (p. 107). A note outside the mode occurs in bars 15 and 16.1

1 Soulié de Morant and Gailhard, op. cit., p. 121, no. 4.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ex. 189

Ex. 190 is an intermezzo (guohmen (132); literally, ‘crossing the threshold’) said to date from the fourteenth century and chosen on account of its free-flowing line. A Bb outside the mode occurs frequently:1

Ex. 190

A most interesting feature of Chinese opera is the use of a characteristic theme or yeadyi (133) (literally, ‘elegant flute’) as a leitmotive in certain situations, or to express certain feelings. Three instances, possibly earlier than the thirteenth century, are given in Exs. 191, 192, and 193:2

Ex. 191

Anger, despair, plotting

Ex. 192

Lovers' quarrels

1 Soulié de Morant and Gailhard, op. cit., p. 123, no. 4. 2 Ibid., p. 124.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

Ex. 193

Joy, pleasure, drinking

A collection of Yuan melodies for zither, only one of which has been transcribed, is contained in the Sehpuu (Music for the Seh) of Shyong Pernglai.1 This includes four volumes of tunes in both liuhleu and flute notation. One volume consists of twelve tunes identical with those of Ju Shii previously considered (p. 109); two volumes are entitled New Tunes for the Songs (that is, for songs from the Book of Songs), and a fourth is devoted to the Confucian ritual.

Ming and Ching Dynasties (1368-1911)

(i) Seven-stringed zither. The tablatures of seven-stringed zither tunes, printed in sumptuous large-paper copies and published in the Ming period, were one of the less conspicuous products of that unparalleled craftsmanship which has made the name of this dynasty a household word in the West. It will be convenient to treat the period from 1368 to the end of the Ching and even to the present day without further subdivision. The most famous zither tunes (with but few exceptions) were already in existence at the beginning of the Ming, but they are played today in Ching versions.

The nature of the development which the tunes have undergone between early Ming and Ching editions, is clear from successive versions (Exs. 194, 195, and 196) of the prelude from the tune ‘Clouds over the Rivers Shiau and Shiang’, ascribed to the Sonq composer, Guo Mean (134). Whenever a group of notes occurs in the early version which also occurs in the tune as played today, it has been given the same rhythmic structure in transcription as in current performance, so that the similarity between the versions is emphasized. The three preludes are in harmonics throughout.

1 Shyong Pernglai, Sehpuu (198). See Yang Inliou, Jonggwo Inyueh Shyygang (Shanghai, 1953), p. 194. A Yuan melody for zither is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 1.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ex. 194

Ex. 195

Ex. 196

Ex. 194 is the prelude as it appears in the Rare and Valuable Secret

Treatise of an Emaciated Immortal1 (135), dated 1425. It bears the

title: ‘Mist and Rain on the Dongtyng Lake.’ The text contains one

complex which does not make sense; in its place a single note has

been supplied to complete the phrase. The slur indicates that the

1

Chyushian Shernchyi Mihpuu (135), by the Prince of Ning.

HISTORY OF THE MUSIC

119

repeated notes are all played on the same string. Ex. 195 is taken from

the Wugaang Chynpuu (136) of 1546. It has undergone amplification

by extension and repetition of its members, and by interpolation. In

this edition the prelude no longer carries a subtitle. One note has been

supplied where the tablature seems to be faulty. The third version of

the prelude is that current today. It differs but little in line from the

seventeenth-century version in the Chingshan Chynpuu (137) (1673)

though the notes are frequently produced in different positions. The

transcription is made from a manuscript copy from an unknown

source. The note-values approximate to those adopted by Shyu

Yuanbair (138), one of the virtuosi of the present day. The prelude

has now become an extended melody which, even when it finishes,

leaves the way open for more to follow. Interest is maintained by

a continual shifting of the tonal centre.

1

From the cheu structure of the classical operatic melody to that of

the seven-stringed zither tune, the difference is one of degree rather

than kind. The smaller tunes (sheaucheu (139)) are essentially cheu

melodies; the words usually survive and are commonly sung by the

performer as the tune is played. This is so for the tunes ‘Fang

Tzyychyi’ (140) (‘Visiting Tzyychyi’), and ‘Yangguan San Dye’

(141), (‘Three Repetitions of the tune: “The Yang Pass””), which will

be referred to later. The larger tunes or dahcheu (102) are purely instru-

mental, and their structure is that of a melody of higher order; they

are for the most part rondos, in which the returns of the main tune

are transposed up or down by one or more octaves—necessarily with

change in timbre, or presented in different ‘registration’—in har-

monics or in a different position, without change in pitch but with

change in timbre. The importance of timbre in this music is such that

any transcription into staff notation can give but a faint impres-

sion of the original.

The larger tunes almost invariably begin with a prelude in slow

time, often on the open strings, but frequently in harmonics. The

prelude may include a characteristic turn of the main melody, as in

the Ching version of ‘Meihua San Nonq’ (142) (‘Three Repetitions

of the tune: “Plum Blossom”’) which is here transcribed from

Ja Fuhshi’s (143) recording in the Library of Congress2 (Ex. 197).

Versions of this tune occur in Ming tablatures of 1530 and 1546. The

first six notes of the prelude are related to the central phrase in the

1

Library of Congress, Music Division, Mr. Cha playing Chinese music, Order No.

1095, 4 sides: 4B, 5A, 5B, 6A. A slightly different version from that of Mr. Shyu.

2

Library of Congress, Music Division, Mr. Cha playing Chinese music, Order No.

1095, 3 sides: 3A, 3B, 4A; also in The History of Music in Sound, side 2 (b).

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ex. 197

Adagio molto

main tune; the latter appears three times in harmonics, always in a different position. The following example is a transcription of the tune at its third appearance, again as played by Ja. This is one of the most immediately engaging tunes in the zither repertoire.

Ex. 198

Allegretto

A prelude of unusual type, echoing Buddhist cantillation, is that to the famous tune ‘Puuan Jow’ (144) (‘The Spell of Puuan’):

Ex. 199

Adagio

Puuan was an Indian Buddhist of the twelfth century, but the tune of this name was probably not composed before the seventeenth century. The prelude opens with octaves, one string being caused to produce a succession of sounds by shifting the finger after plucking. The second section of the prelude is in harmonics (beginning at the change of clef in the example). Although in many respects a work sui generis it deserves mention here because of its great popularity

with zither players. Its square-cut rhythms recall Pekin opera-tunes

and folk-songs of the north-western border.1

The climax of a zither tune is frequently marked by a passage in

harmonics. If the work is of considerable extent there may be more

than one such—as in ‘Meihua San Nonq’, for example. These passages

are felt to be of the greatest emotional tension: at these moments the

music leaves the earth.

Most of the zither tunes, whether short or long, end with a

coda in harmonics. This may be very short, or it may contain

a reference to the main tune and summarize the whole work, as in

the coda to ‘Yangguan San Dye’ (‘Three Repetitions of the tune:

"The Yang Pass"').2

Ex. 200

This includes a reference to the second phrase of the opening melody.

The whole of the first section, including the thrice repeated refrain is

transcribed in Ex. 201.

Ex. 201

The pass referred to in the title is that in the north-west through which

so many have travelled to real or virtual exile. A Northern Song to

the same words is transcribed in Ex. 210 (p. 127). It is not unusual for

the last note of the coda to be a note other than the expected tonic,

as in Ex. 200. Another example is provided by the end of a short tune

1 Also recorded by Cha under the title ‘Universal Benediction’, Library of Congress,

Music Division, Order No. 1095, 3 sides: 1B, 2A, 2B.

2 A transcription of the opening phrases of a version of this work is printed by F. Bose

in Musikalishe Völkerkunde (Freiburg i. Br., 1953) as No. 50 of the musical examples,

taken from a recording: Overseas Branch Rec. 17–2954, collected by Reinhard.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

peculiar to Syhchuan Province, ‘Visiting Tzyychyi’. The harmonics begin at the change to the treble clef.

Ex. 202

Andante

Successive appearances of the main tune are usually at different pitches but in the same key. Modulation in the sense of a change of key is relatively infrequent. It occurs commonly, however, in the sense of a shift in the tonal centre, even in the course of one and the same melody, as shown in Exs. 196 and 201 ; the melody temporarily behaves as if some other note in the note-series of the mode were the tonic. Occasionally a true modulation to the dominant occurs, as in the following example from ‘Puan Jow’.

Ex. 203

Andante

This is the passage in harmonics at the climax of the work. Two arpeggios of harmonics bring about a modulation to the dominant and there follows a pause on the dominant. Where the clef changes to the bass clef in Ex. 203, the normal position and the key of the tonic are resumed. Another example, in a work predominantly ‘minor’ in colouring, occurs in the short tune ‘Yih Guhren’ (145) (‘Remembering a Friend’1) in which transition to the new key is prepared through the mediant. In this example the B is flattened throughout (Ex. 204).

1 Library of Congress, Music Division, Mr. Cha playing Chinese music, Order No. 1095, 2 sides: 9B, 10A; under the title ‘In Memory of a Deceased Friend at a Lonely Hill’.

Ex. 204

Occasionally a note outside the mode may be introduced with overwhelming effect. Towards the end of ‘Shiau-Shiang Shoei Yun’ (146) (‘Clouds over the Rivers Shiau and Shiang’) such a note occurs; it is sometimes interpreted as a monastery bell.

Ex. 205

(ii) Pyipar and Jeng. Of the instruments introduced into China in historic times, only the pyipar can compare with the chyn in the extent of its repertoire and the virtuoso skill attained by its finest exponents. Published transcriptions of pyipar music1 are atypical inasmuch as it is characteristic of this music that the melody is frequently accompanied by a simple bass—perhaps a single note repeated as a pedal point, and that considerable use is made of repeated chords. On the whole, music for the pyipar is even more frankly descriptive than that for the chyn. One of the finest performers, Yang Dahjiun (147), executes a battle-piece that includes imitations of the groans of the wounded and dying, and a moving version of the famous tune, ‘Geese Descend on the Level Sands’, with astonishingly birdlike noises.

In recent years Liang Tzaypyng (148) has travelled extensively in the mountainous interior of Fwujiann (149) Province, collecting jeng tunes from elderly performers and studying their technique. In the south-west, and particularly in Kuenming (150), there is a vigorous group of amateurs of this instrument, and itinerant performers are to be heard in Cherndu (151), the capital of Syhchuan Province. One of the most memorable tunes is entitled ‘Cold Crows Playing with Water’.

1 E. Fischer, Beiträge zur Erforschung der chinesischen Musik (Leipzig, 1910), also in Sammelbände der internationalen Musikgesellschaft, xii (1911), pp. 153-206. Other transcriptions will be found in A. Dechevrens, ‘Étude sur le système musical chinois’, Sammelbände der internationalen Musikgesellschaft, ii (1901), pp. 484-551.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

CHINESE INSTRUMENTAL HETEROPHONY

A few transcriptions from phonograph recordings demonstrating Chinese polyphonic practice have been made. The first example is from a sheng recording.1

Ex. 206

The second is for cross-flute (dyi) and fiddle (yuehchyn). The conclusion only is quoted. The yuehchyn accompaniment is largely a variation on the flute melody at the fourth below. The interest of this combination for a Chinese ear lies in the simultaneous presentation of theme and variant, not in their incidental clashes.2

Ex. 207

1 E. Fischer, Beiträge, p. 1.

2 Ibid., p. 11.

( 125 )

THE STRUCTURE OF CHINESE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC

From an analysis of nine recorded works, all popular in character, it is clear that both binary (or quaternary) and ternary types of construction occur.1 In their formal organization the pieces analysed reveal a high level of development; indeed, many of the formal complexities encountered can be paralleled in the procedures of the Netherland school of the fifteenth century. The structure of these nine pieces is generally as follows: after an introduction, a complex of groups of phrases is repeated several times with variation. Among the different types of variation the following may be mentioned; a group of phrases may be lengthened or diminished, or entirely omitted, or varied with such freedom that the variant is only recognizable as such because it retains some characteristic turn. Within a group, several bars may be transposed to the fifth or fourth; they may be arranged in a different order or they may be replaced by others. Transposition of entire themes to the fifth or fourth is fairly common, and two-part writing in parallel fifths or fourths, comparable to early medieval Western practice, is frequent.

In one instance a comparison has been made between recorded performances (on sanshyan and on the large hwuchyn, p. 93), by two different performers, and the noted version supplied by one of the performers.2 The tune in question has been subjected to detailed analysis and in spite of its seeming simplicity is plainly anything but artless in construction. Its title, ‘Visiting the Son of Heaven,’ goes back at least to early Ching times; but the particular tune analysed is not one of the tunes of this title printed in the great Palace Collection of tsyr of 1747.

A TSYR MELODY

In his study of The Foundations of Chinese Musical Art, Levis analysed four tsyr melodies by the Ching composer, Shieh Yuanhwai, written in 1848 according to the tonal structure followed by the Tarng or Sonq author of the tsyr in question. The pattern of one of these Sonq tsyr was given earlier, on p. 114. The following example is Shieh Yuanhair’s realization of the neums, transcribed by Levis:

Ex. 208

1 E. Fischer, op. cit., p. 29.

2 E. M. von Hornbostel, ‘Ch’ao-t’ien-tze (Eine chinesische Notation und ihre Ausführungen)’, Archiv für Musikwissenschaft, i (1919), pp. 477–98.

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THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

OPERA1

At the beginning of the Ming dynasty the southern school of opera became divided into many small schools, working in different regions and making use of local dialects in their scripts. Towards the middle of the sixteenth century, a native of Kuenshan (152) in Jiangsuḥ (153) Province, Liang Borlong (154), wrote the script of The Story of the Laundress of Fine Textiles which was set to music by a fellow countryman from a neighbouring town, Wey Liangfuu (155), who had invented a new style of singing. The result of their collaboration was immensely successful. The school which they founded at first bore the name of Shoeimodiaw (156) (literally: ‘song ground in water’) but it gradually assumed the name of Kuencheu (157): The songs of the men from Kuenshan. The collaborators proceeded to revise the works of the southern school, and their revisions were generally approved and accepted as models. The name Kuencheu as used at the present time, however, includes not only works of the southern school written subsequent to the collaboration of Liang Borlong and Wey Liangfuu, but also all the works of the Yuan period, particularly those revised by Wey himself. The chwanchyi (158) was the characteristic form developed by the school of Kuenshan and differed in length from the Yuan tzarjiuh. While the latter had consisted of but four acts and a single singing role, the chwanchyi were composed of thirty to fifty acts of which perhaps four-fifths were in the southern style and the rest in northern; several acts might be mixed in style. From the point of view of the arrangement of the acts according to style, the seventeenth-century opera Charngsheng Diann (159) (‘The Hall of Long Life’) by Horng Sheng (160) is today regarded as a model. Chwanchyi also differed from tzarjiuh (p. 114) in the number of singing roles; the former recognized six chief types whose identification by the audience was (and is) facilitated by their characteristic costumes and maquillage. Each act of a classical Chinese opera comprises both declamation and measured song. An important character, entering at the beginning of an act, will declaim a prologue in prose explaining the situa-

1 Excerpts from Chinese Opera are recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, sides 2 and 3.

tion. This will be followed by a poem, which in turn will be followed

by a monologue in prose. Each act is given a pithy title such as the

following, taken from the Pyipar Jih: ‘Marriage by Imperial Com-

mand’; ‘Help to the Hungry’; ‘Difficulties in Maintaining Parents-

in-Law’; ‘Sale of Hair to Bury Parents-in-law’; ‘Entire Family

Decorated’.

A single act will generally include ten cheu, all in the same mode

and key, either all in the southern or all in the northern style or with

some in each style. Generally speaking the cheupair (128) are so

chosen that all are suitable for the expression of the same quality of

feeling, and the individual cheu patterns normally succeed each other

in the order of their classification in the mode.

Exs. 209 and 210 are melodies of the southern and northern

schools respectively:

Ex. 209

Ex. 210

These (and Ex. 208) are the only examples of Chinese vocal melody so

far quoted that display melismatic as opposed to syllabic structure.

All Sonq and Yuan melodies known from contemporary documents

are syllabic, as were (so far as is known) the most ancient Chinese

melodies; but it is to be remembered that none of the surviving

melodies is popular in character, and it may well be that a proportion

of the koeileei melodies of Tarng times were at least partly melismatic.1

Whereas in the past twelve flutes, each at the pitch of a different

1 Exs. 209 and 210 are transcribed from T’ung Fei, Fundamentals of Chinese Music,

ii (Shanghai, 1927) (195), pp. 19, 20.

128

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

liuhleu, were used to accompany kuencheu, only a single flute is used

today. The largest number of modes now used in any tonality is

four, and two tonalities are represented by a single mode only. Each

mode or system is associated with a definite character—fresh and dis-

tant, sighing and afflicted, rapid and varied, fierce and melancholy,

elegant and reserved, &c. It is perhaps worth recalling that similar

feeling about modal quality was current in Europe at least as late as

the sixteenth century.

The essential accompanying instrument in kuencheu performances

is the cross-flute, dyi, but other wind instruments—flute, mouth-organ,

oboe-type reed instruments—may be added; strings—sanshyan and

pyipar—may support the dyi; and a body of percussion is indispens-

able—indeed, the hoop-drum, bangguu (161), leads the ensemble.

Changes of scene, and the beginning and end of the acts, are indicated

by vigorous interludes for percussion alone. There may be some

trace of Indian or at least central Asian influence in these interludes,

though Chinese drumming never approaches the rhythmic complexity

of that of India.

In Nanking or Pekin one may hear professional performances of

kuencheu; but thè operas to be heard all over China, even in small

country towns, belong to the new northern style developed in the

nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The style is associated with

the Manchu capital, Pekin, and operas of this type are often referred

to collectively as jingshih (162) (plays of the capital). Provincial opera

merits greater attention than it has hitherto received.1 Like the classical

northern opera (of which it is to a certain extent the descendant)

jingshih makes use of a stringed instrument (a hwu chyn of some kind)

as the chief instrument supporting the voice. Superficially the most

obvious difference between kuencheu and jingshih lies in the rejection

of the tsyr form of lyric and the abundance of symmetrical melodies.

While kuencheu makes use of only two rhythms: a 2/4 with the

first beat strongly accented, and a 4/4 with the first beat strongly

accented and the third beat divided into two quavers, jingshih

makes use of a considerable number of rhythms, both regular and

irregular.

The following example is transcribed from The Kingfisher-Feather-

Screen-Mountain (Tsueypying Shan) (163), a jingshih opera of the

genre bangtzyy (164). The vocal line in 2/4 time is accompanied by a

fiddle in 3/4 time, a sonorous wooden block beaten in 3/4 time

1 Chao Wei-pang, ‘Yang-ko, the Rural Theatre in Ting-hsien, Hopei’, Folklore

Studies, iii (Peiping, 1944), pp. 17–40.

(the bangtzyy from which the genre takes its name), and a hoop-drum:1

Ex. 211

As an example of a leitmotif of much later date than those given on p. 116, the following is of considerable rhythmic interest; it depicts complete intoxication (Ex. 212).2

1 Soulié de Morant and Gailhard, op. cit., p. 137.

2 Ibid., p. 125.

B 3608

K

130

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ex. 212

Evidence of the remarkable accuracy of the oral tradition in Chinese opera is provided by the nearly complete agreement between the kuencheu recording in Hornbostel's record-series Musik des Orients, and the printed edition of 1792.1 The intervals agree almost entirely, but there are slight rhythmic deviations—a crotchet in the edition of 1792 may become a dotted crotchet in the recorded version.

FOLK-SONG

The scientific study of Chinese folk-music has scarcely begun, for though many collections are now being made, no collector, so far as is known, has as yet made recordings in the field; all depend on the ear. From personal observations made during a brief stay in central China it seems probable that traces of other and older types of scalar structure survive in the folk-music. This is suggested by street-cries collected in Syhchuan and Gueyjou Provinces. The enharmonic tetrachord (a fourth built up from a major third and a minor second) of the Japanese modes hirazyoosi, kumoizyoosi, and iwato-zyoosi (p. 145) is rare in classical Chinese music and jingshih; it occurs, however, in the following street-cry:

Ex. 213

Again, chains of thirds, so striking a feature of Western, African,

1 Wang Kwang-chi, 'Über die chinesische klassische Oper 1530-1860', Orient et Occident, Bibliothèque Sino-Internationale (Geneva, 1934).

Polynesian, and American Indian music, rarely occur in classical

Chinese music, so strong is the tendency for a minor third to form a

unit by adding a major second; yet Exs. 214 and 215 (also street-cries)

are both expanded triads:

Ex. 214

Ex. 215 illustrates a primitive stage of the 123 scale1 (Eb, F, G, Bb)

in which two superposed thirds form a pentachord and the lower

third is filled in (123. 5). Ex. 216 is interesting in that the fourths are

only acciacaturas:

Ex. 216

One feature of everyday life in China which impresses the stranger

is the singing of the coolies; when pulling or carrying loads, they

improvise a seemingly continuous chant, which has the function of

co-ordinating activities and maintaining the rate of working at the

optimum pace set by the leader. It is in fact an antiphon between

leader and gang, in which statement and answer tread so closely on

each other's heels that the sound is effectively continuous. Ex. 217

might be sung (to the vowel sound 'ah') by men pulling a loaded cart

up hill.

Ex. 217

Leader

Gang

Step

1 Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 123.

132

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

Ex. 218, on the other hand, might be sung by men trotting with a load slung on poles.

Ex. 218

In such improvised antiphons it is the leader alone who varies his utterance with successive repetitions. The answer frequently overlaps the statement. Sometimes one hears ‘shanties’ such as the following:

Ex. 219

An excellent short collection of popular Chinese songs, many of them folk-songs, has been published by C. H. and S. H. Chen.1 The collection merits praise not only for the notable accuracy of its transcriptions but for the quality of the accompaniments devised by C. H. Chen. In themselves they provide useful material for studying melodic variation and heterophony in Chinese music.

Ex. 220 is a well-known folk-song, sung to different words in different districts.2 It is a good example of the pure pentatonic genus, still characteristic of Chinese melody in spite of the constant infiltration of other genera from central Asia. Another purely penta-

1 C. H. and S. H. Chen, The Flower Drum and other Chinese Songs (New York, 1943). Other folk-tunes are to be found in A. G. Jacobs, The Chinese-American Song and Game Book (New York, 1944), and S. M. Graves and M. F. Farley, Min River Boat Songs (New York, 1946).

2 For another version of this tune see Hsiao Shusien, ‘La chanson populaire chinoise’, Sinologica, i (Basel, 1947), pp. 65–86.

tonic folk-song is shown in Ex. 221, taken from a setting by Liu Shea-An [sic.]1

Ex. 220

Ex. 221

Within the last few years many popular collections of folk-songs from all provinces have been printed in China, transcribed in the numerical notation (p. 101). Though popular in character, these collections are of the greatest value and already enable us to determine the regions of transition to types of melody resembling those of western Asia.

BUDDHIST MUSIC

The music of the Buddhist office as practised in Chinese monasteries deserves special attention, since it embodies many features at first sight foreign to the Chinese musical genius. While some of these may well be due to Indian and Tibetan influence, some may echo that more primitive stratum of folk-music revealed in the street-cries already discussed. In a small monastery in Anshuen (165), Gueyjou Province, novices in their teens have been heard chanting the scriptures in thirds (cf. the English and Scandinavian gymel of the twelfth century). The range of cantillation was a fourth, and the result could be placed alongside Lachmann’s juxtaposition of the German folk-song ‘Laterne, Laterne!’ and Hornbostel’s Macusi Indian melody,2

1 Liu Shea-An, Three Songs (Tokyo, 1935).

2 R. Lachmann, ‘Musik der außereuropäischen Natur- und Kulturvölker’, Handbuch der Musikwissenschaft (Potsdam, 1929), p. 8; quoted by Sachs in The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, p. 40.

134

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 1. CHINA

as an example of the survival in China of tendencies observable in very primitive musical cultures elsewhere. At a funeral in a small country town, Meitarn (166) in Gueyjou Province, Buddhist priests were heard singing, to the accompaniment of cymbals and triangle, a metrical chant of that infectious gaiety so common in India and so rare in China. The aspect of Buddhist music which most merits study, however, is the singing of the office by precentor and novices. The instrumental accompaniment is provided entirely by idiophones and membranophones; the instruments include a large drum, a large bell, a gong, cymbals, a triangle, a small bell, and a wooden fish. The office begins with intoned statements and responses by precentor and novices, with occasional interruptions by single instruments. As the service proceeds the speed of recitation increases, and the precentor no longer waits for the novices to end their response before recommencing; as the overlapping antiphon develops, the frequency of percussive interruptions increases.1

Concerning the Taoist office no information is available. Several hymns making use of a notation unlike any other Chinese notation are printed in the Ming Dawtzanq (167). They have not been transcribed.

Note on the Zither-Transcriptions

To avoid excessive use of leger lines and signatures, the transcriptions on pp. 118–23 are made throughout as if the third string were tuned to F, so that in the commonest tuning the seven open strings will yield the series: C D F G A c d. In the hands of different performers, and on different instruments, the sounding pitch of the third string will range from F to Bb (below ‘cello bottom C).

1 See also A. Stanley, ‘Putoshan’, Journal of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, xlvi (1915), pp. 1–18.

III

THE MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA

2. OTHER COUNTRIES

By Laurence Picken

MONGOLIA

A considerable range of music recorded in eastern Mongolia has been published in transcription.1, 2, 3 The tunes are mostly pentatonic, with tetrachords consisting of a major second and a minor third. Major third scales, in which the tetrachords each consist of a major third with a minor second above, have been reported in melodies from the Buryat Mongols,4 but the material from eastern Mongolia does not afford a single example of this type. The melodies are often less than an octave in range and fall into two main groups: those in free rhythm and those which are measured. The first type is illustrated by the following example for male voice from the Chipchin tribe, ‘Bargas’ (an old tribal name) ‘of the Holy Mountain’.2

Ex. 222

The second example, the ‘Song of Chingis Khan’2 (male voice) from the Jalait tribe, is a symmetrical tune with a strong major flavour imparted by the arpeggiocd triad in the first bar (Ex. 223).

1 N. de Torhout and Humbert-Sauvageot, ‘Dix-huit chants et poèmes mongols’, Bibliothèque musicale du musée Guimet, 1re série, iv (Paris, 1937).

2 H. Haslund-Christensen and E. Emsheimer, The Music of The Mongols (Stockholm, 1943). Several small collections of Mongolian tunes have been published in China in recent years. The tunes are all of the measured, symmetrical type.

3 Chūichirō Takeda, ‘Songs of the Mongols, Notations and Explanations’, Tōyō Ongaku Kenkyū, ix (Tokyo, 1951), pp. 147-54, and x-xi (Tokyo, 1952), pp. 67-73.

4 C. Stumpf, ‘Mongolische Gesänge’, Sammelbände für vergleichende Musikwissenschaft, i (1922), pp. 107-12.

136 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

Ex. 223

A third example, a flute solo from the Khorchin tribe,1 is Chinese in character.

Ex. 224

Many of the songs have flute, fiddle, or ‘guitar’ accompaniments. Descriptions are given of four-stringed and two-stringed fiddles (pl. 6 (a)); a zither resembling the Chinese jeng; three types of ‘guitar’ (lute), one of which is the same as the Chinese sanshyan; and cross-flutes of the dyi-type.1 The resemblance between the square-cut type of Mongolian melody and many of the tunes of Pekin opera is striking.

SHINJIANG (CHINESE TURKESTAN)

The material collected by Haslund-Christensen in the region of Urumchi (Dyi-huah) (169)2 has not as yet been published. This was taken from members of the Torgut tribe and should be of great interest. From a brief account of a troupe of dancers and musicians from Chinese Turkestan who visited Shanghai it seems that3 their practices show marked parallels to those of Tarng times. Thus

1 Haslund-Christensen and Emsheimer, op. cit., p. 37.

2 Figures in brackets refer to serial entries in the Glossary of Characters, p. 190.

3 In Faaluu, ‘Tsorng Lihshyy-shanq Luenn Shinjiang Gewuu’, Shanghae Jongiang Ryhbaw (Shanghai, 12 Dec. 1947) (172).

PLATE VI

CHINESE AND OTHER FAR-EASTERN INSTRUMENTS

(a) Manchurian fiddle ( ); (b) Chingmiau mouth-organ ( ); (c) Lolo Jew's harp ( ); (d) Minjia toy Jew's harp ( ); (e) Borneo zither ( ); (f) Borneo mouth-organ ( ); (g) Detail of the same ( )

For further details see page xiv.

dancers, dances, and instruments correspond to descriptions in the

Tarng poet Bair Jiuyih and in poems from early anthologies (Yuehfuu

Shyji) (170); and their music displays structural features fitting the

descriptions of Tarng dahcheu (p. 106). One of their tunes has been

identified with the seven-stringed zither tune known as 'Jaujiun's

Lament' (171). It is remarkable that such an identification should have

been made precisely in the case of this particular zither tune, since

Jaujiun was the lady bestowed on the Hunnish Khan by the Emperor

and carried away to Mongolian territory in 33 B.C. This account

suggests that study of the music of this region may throw light on

Chinese music of Tarng times and may lead to the identification of

those tunes or parts of tunes in early zither handbooks which date

from Tarng times. Chinese workers have begun to collect folk-songs

in Shinjiang, and some of the material collected has now been pub-

lished. A high proportion of these tunes are symmetrical, measured

and heptatonic.

TIBET

The availability in recent years of a small number of recordings of

Tibetan music made in Lhasa has transformed the picture of the

music of Tibet based on earlier accounts.1 A recent review2 includes a

number of examples transcribed from these recordings and brings

together for the first time a wealth of information on Tibetan music

and musical instruments and on the functions of music in Tibetan

culture. The instruments described include a vertical flute with bell

and whistle-mouth-piece (gliṅ bu); a conical oboe similar to the

Chinese suonah (rgya gliṅ); bone trumpets (rkaṅ duṅ); large copper

horns, in some cases extensible like telescopes to a length of 3 metres

(rag duṅ); and percussion: braced copper kettle-drums and nailed

drums, including an hour-glass drum made from two human

skulls.3

The recordings show that at least three distinct types of music,

exclusive of folk-music, are practised in Lhasa. These are: (1) Sino-

Mongolian music resembling Chinese provincial opera. This may be

religious or secular. The following example is part of a hymn sung in

perfect unison by two nuns4 (Ex. 225).

1 A. H. Francke, 'La musique au Thibet' in Encyclopédie de la musique (Lavignac and

La Laurencie), 1re partie, v (Paris, 1922), pp. 3084–93.

2 P. C. Crossley-Holland, 'Tibetan Music', Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians,

viii (London, 1954), pp. 456–64.

3 An instrumental ensemble is recorded in The History of Music in Sound (H.M.V.),

i, side 4 (a).

4 Ibid, side 4 (c).

138

MUSIC

OF

FAR

EASTERN

ASIA:

OTHER

COUNTRIES

Ex.

225

All

the

Lhasa

recordings

of

this

type

are

in

binary

rhythms.

The

secular

songs

may

be

accompanied

by

flute,

fiddle,

zither

(jeng),

lute,

and

percussion.

(2)

Liturgical

chanting.

The

voices

in

approximate

unison

and

lowest

register

move

in

small,

often

microtonal,

steps

with

an

occasional

step

of

a

minor

third,

to

the

accompaniment

of

single

metallophones,

drums,

and

at

times

a

horn-pedal.

Instruments

and

voices

may

be

rhythmically

independent

of

each

other,

or

they

may

coincide

and

proceed

together

in

an

unstressed

rhythm

of

equal

pulses,

as

in

the

following

example.1

Ex.

226

1

Recorded

in

The

History

of

Music

in

Sound,

i,

side

4

(b).

TIBET

139

The vocal range in this recording is a diminished fifth, approximately subdivided into three minor seconds and a minor third. In the instrumental interludes for oboes, trumpets, pedal horns, and percussion, the melodic line may have a range of as much as an augmented sixth and resembles the vocal line of the third type (q.v.) Several observers comment on the constant use of drones during choral singing, and it has been suggested that this practice is due to Indian influence.1 Two horns, in unison, or a third or a fifth apart, may sustain a drone for several minutes; this usage is comparable to that of the large curved horns of India (rana śringa). The drum and cymbal rhythms, maintained by the orchestra, even when other instruments are silent, are Indian in character.2 (3) Overlapping antiphonal singing; this style occurs in the recordings of historical dramas. The melodic line is non-Chinese in character, unmeasured, with arpeggioted triads (both major and minor) and major-third cadential tetrachords with the semitone above, as shown in Ex. 227: ‘Su-ki-nyi-ma (Lady, bright as the sun).’3

Ex. 227

There is no supporting melodic instrument, and perhaps for this reason the pitch gradually drifts in the course of this type of singing. The overlaps may occur at the unison, but sustained major seconds and major and minor thirds are also to be heard. The partners in the antiphon are not always of equal importance; the ‘confidant’ may prolong the ends of the ‘protagonist’s’ melismata. In the following example: ‘Da-we Sing-ge (The lion of the moon)’, the cadences of

1 Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, East and West (New York, 1943), p. 145.

2 Ibid., p. 139.

3 Kyumu-Lunga Troupe (Lhasa); H.M.V. Recording, N. 16678 (Calcutta).

140

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

the soloist are supported by a divided chorus, and there is a rhythmic accompaniment of drum and struck cymbal.1 In contrast to the purely vocal antiphons for two voices, this example is measured.

Ex. 228

All the recorded examples in this style are sung in falsetto; this may be related to the need to secure maximum audibility in open-air performance. The style has some affinity with Tibetan working songs (Ex. 229); examples of these have been noted in which (as in Ex. 228) two- and three-note chords are formed on sustained finals.2

Ex. 229

In contrast to Exs. 227 and 228, the voices here are of equal standing. The similarity to the antiphonal working chants of the Chinese (p. 131) is striking and merits closer examination, as does the parallel

1 Kyumu-Lunga Troupe (Lhasa): H.M.V. Recording, N. 16623 (Calcutta).

2 Francke, op. cit., pp. 3090, 3092.

with songs for solo-voice and one-note chorus from Sarawak (Borneo) (p. 178).

It seems probable that musics from different cultural strata, and possibly from different cultural groups, co-exist in the Tibetan area.

This view is supported by a brief report from a traveller who entered Tibet from Nepal.1 The existence of a non-Chinese element in Tibetan folk-music is indicated by the whistled arpeggiòs of common chords, diminished sevenths, and fragments of whole-tone scales recorded.

The following example is of interest in relation to tetratonic, anhemitonic melodies from Indonesia (p. 170) where, however, the range is a tritone.

Ex. 230

A primitive three-note melody, consisting of two superimposed fourths, sung as a duet for men's voices has been transcribed.2 It may be compared with Japanese Buddhist cantillation, or with the vocal line of the Noo drama (p. 148).

Ex. 231

None of the recordings available exhibits the type of melody in ternary rhythm illustrated by Francke. Such rhythms, however, are common in Kashmiri music;3 their presence in Francke's material may be due to border-conditions. One tune from Francke's article is interesting in view of the occasional major-third tetrachords noted in the dramatic duets; but it must be emphasized that no Lhasa recording as yet shows a tune of this symmetry and rhythmic regularity with ascending major-third tetrachords having the semitone above.

Ex. 232

1 T. H. Somervell, ‘The Music of Tibet’, Musical Times, lxiv (1923), p. 108.

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 38.

3 Teachers’ Training College, Kashmiri Mûsiqi, i (Srinagar, no date) (in Urdu).

142

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

A single specimen of lamaist music in score has been reproduced in facsimile.1 Superficially it is similar to the Taoist notation already mentioned (p. 134). This notation may have been brought to China with Mahayana Buddhism and borrowed by the Taoists, in the elaboration of their ritual.

KOREA

From the most extensive surveys2 of Korean music available, it is clear that a distinction must be made between the ritual music, directly derived from the Chinese Confucian or Buddhist ritual, and the secular music of the court and of the people. The latter differs markedly from Chinese music, either popular or classical, in that it makes almost exclusive use of 3/4 and 6/8 rhythms.

Korea acquired the Confucian orchestra early in the twelfth century, and instruments bearing the names of those in the Jou orchestra survive to this day. Some of the instruments preserved date from the fourteenth century. A number of variants of Chinese instruments also survive, several unique to Korea; there are, for example, six different types of half-tube zithers (chyn, seh, jeng, &c.). There is an interesting description of the completely mechanical performance of the ritual music: the fact that bells in a chime are hanging in the wrong order is of no importance; a difference of half a tone between bell-chime and stone-chime occasions no discomfort. The most valuable part of Eckardt's account is the description of the instruments and the sketch of Korean musical history; the description of the music leaves many questions unanswered; but on the whole Keh's transcriptions confirm Eckardt's findings.

Ex. 233, the beginning of the 'Hymn for the Sacrifice to Confucius', dates perhaps from the introduction of the ritual orchestra in the fourteenth century.3 The first four bars may be a distortion of Ex.177, p.102:

1 L. A. Waddell, The Buddhism of Tibet or Lamaism (Cambridge, 1934) p. 433. See also P. C. Crossley-Holland, op. cit., p. 458.

2 A. Eckardt, 'Koreanische Musik', Mitteilungen der deutschen Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens, xxiv B (Tokyo, 1930); C. S. Keh, 'Die koreanische Musik', Sammlung musikwissenschaftlicher Abhandlungen, xvii (Strasbourg, 1935).

3 Eckardt, op. cit.

KOREA

143

The official adoption of the Confucian orchestra and ritual dates from

1114; but it is certain that Chinese instruments (and presumably music

too) were imported in Tarng times. The vertical angular harp is known

to have existed in Korea.

A second example, in this case of funeral music, is rhythmically not

unlike some of the works given in full score by Prince Tzayyuh in his

'Rustic Dances', quoted by Courant.1

Ex. 234

Eckardt reprints Courant's2 transcription of a piece for the black

zither (hyon kum) (173) which he checked against the performance of

a Korean musician. The last eleven bars are quoted here for their

rhythmic variety and to show the use of ornaments:

Ex. 235

The following is part of one of the folk-songs noted: 'The Song of the

Rising Sun and the Abiding Moon.' This is Keh's transcription.3

Ex. 236

1 M. Courant, 'Essai historique sur la musique classique des Chinois avec un ap-

pendice relatif à la musique coréenne' in Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, i (Paris,

1913), pp. 135 ff.

2 Cf. C. S. Keh, op. cit., p. 7 of the musical examples.

3 Ibid., p. 215.

144 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

The folk-songs include the following, a ‘National Song’, exhibiting major-third-plus-minor-second tetrachords.1

Ex. 237

It seems probable that many more vestiges of the Tarng and Sonq Chinese theatre survive in Korea than in China.

JAPAN

A substantial body of information concerning Japanese music has been available to the Western reader for more than half a century. The following short account is based largely on Sachs,2 Piggott,3 Courant,4 and Harich-Schneider.5

It might be expected that Japanese music would exhibit considerable Chinese influence; but it is perhaps somewhat surprising that it also exhibits features of which only traces are to be found in the music of China.

Pentatonic scales predominate, though there is a constant tendency for these to become heptatonic, as in Chinese music. The ‘Chinese’ modes are displayed in folk-song, as well as in more sophisticated

1 Eckardt, op. cit., p. 60.

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 122.

3 F. T. Piggott, The Music and Musical Instruments of Japan (Yokohama and London, 1893 and 1909).

4 Courant, ‘Japon: Notice historique’, Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, i (Paris, 1913), pp. 242–56.

5 Eta Harich-Schneider, ‘The Present Condition of Japanese Court Music’, The Musical Quarterly, xxxix (New York, 1953), pp. 49–74.

music, and it does not seem justifiable to assume that their usage dates only from the beginning of Chinese influence in late Wey and Tarng times. The tunings of the Japanese jeng (p. 90), the soo no koto (31), as used in the Imperial Ceremonial Orchestra, cover a range of six Chinese pentatonic modes.1 Three of these are so modes on A (e f# a b c#'), d (a b d' e' f#') and e (b c#' e' f#' g#') (using the Chinese nomenclature; see p. 94); these are the ritusen (174) (female forms) and on the whole are preferred to the three ryosen (175) (male forms), the do modes on d (d e f# a b), e (e f# g# b c#') and g (g a b d' e'). Occasionally other Chinese modes occur in Japanese music, as in Ex. 238, a 'Fisherman's Song' collected by the late Dr. Takeo Kamada of Tokyo University. This is in the re mode on C. Many other examples will be found in the recently published survey of folk-songs of Tokyo and district.2

Ex. 238

Though the re, sol, and la modes are usually thought of as modal inversions of the 123.56 scale, the ritu-type scale cannot have been derived from ryo: the latter, undoubtedly ancient, is based on the fifth and lacks the fourth; the former is based on units of a fourth.3 In contrast to the 'Chinese' scales, the 'national' scales, though pentatonic, have semitone steps. Like ritu, they are scales built up from units of a fourth, but the tetrachords consist of major third plus minor second. This is the type of tetrachord already met with in certain Tibetan and Korean melodies and occasionally encountered in fragments of Chinese folk-music (p. 130). While the Tibetan and Korean melodies do not exhibit scales exclusively built up from two tetrachords of this type, Japanese music offers abundant examples of melodies with pure 'major third' scales. Three principal modes are in use. The first mode, hirazyoosi (176), may be represented by the series: A B C E F A. Ex. 239 is a cowherd's song.4

1 Ibid., p. 56.

2 Y. Saionji, Nihon Minyō Taikan, Kantō-hen (Tokyo, 1953).

3 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 124.

4 Y. Matsudaira, Seven Japanese Folk Songs from Nambu District (Tokyo, 1937).

B 8608

L

146

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

Ex. 239

Lento = 96

The second mode, kumoizyoosi (177), may be represented by the series: E F A B C E. Its plagal form is shown in Ex. 240, a Furuma dance song.1

Ex. 240

Andante

The third principal major third mode is iwato; it may be represented by the series: B C E F A B.

It is clear that modulation from one mode to another occurs frequently. The following example exhibits modulation from kumoizyoosi (disjunct tetrachords) to hirazyoosi (conjunct tetrachords):2

Ex. 241

1 Y. Kiyose, Six Japanese Folk Songs from Shinano District (Tokyo, 1937).

2 N. Peri, 'Essai sur les gammes japonaises,' Bibliothèque musicale du musée Guimet, 2e série, i (Paris, 1934), p. 54, quoted by Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 126.

JAPAN

147

Both ‘Chinese’ and ‘Japanese’ pentatonic scales tend to be converted to heptatonic forms; the former, by inserting a sharpened fourth and a major seventh, yielding the typical Chinese heptatonic scale: F G A (B) C D (E) F; the latter, by dividing the major thirds into two major seconds: A B C (D) E F (G) A. Music in the ‘Japan-ese’ scales frequently alternates between ‘major’ and ‘minor’ variants of the mode.1

It is of the greatest importance for the study of Far Eastern music that there survives in Japan, albeit in modified form, music of the Tarng dynasty, introduced from China, along with Korean and Indian music, between the seventh and the tenth centuries.2 Treatises on this old music written in the thirteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries are still available. Since the oral tradition of performance is comparatively little concerned with the written parts, it is probable that the latter, preserved in three different notations for flute, mouth-organ, and bass lute, are authentic relics. This is also suggested by the notations themselves, which have Tarng and Sonq parallels. As an example of the melodies inherent in the written parts, but only to be recognized with difficulty in the music as performed today, Ex. 242 gives mouth-organ and biwa (p. 92) parts of the first phrase of the ‘Martial Virtue Music’ as transcribed from the Japanese notation, printed in facsimile by Harich-Schneider in an admirable first-hand account of Japanese court music.

Ex. 242

mouth-organ(shoo)

(o = open string)(• = pizzicato; othernotes with plectrum)

Ex. 242 only shows the notes as written; it does not include percussion, also shown in the original; nor does it indicate the figured-bass-like expansion of the biwa part or the mouth-organ chords erected on each degree of the scale. Ex. 242 may be compared with the full score prepared by Harich-Schneider. The resulting elaborate heterophony was first displayed in score by Mueller3 who was able to test

1 See examples in Piggott, op. cit., p. 103. 2 Harich-Schneider, op. cit., p. 65.

3 L. Mueller, ‘Einige Notizen über die japanische Musik’, Mitteilungen der deutschen Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens in Tokio, i 6 (Tokyo, 1874), pp. 13–20, i 8 (1875), pp. 41–48, i 9 (1876), pp. 19–35.

148 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

each performer separately. A version of the ceremonial ‘Etenraku’ (180) (‘Music coming through from Heaven’) for a Western orchestra has been prepared,1 and a number of modern studies of the vestiges of Tarng and Swei music surviving in Japan are available.2

On the whole, the Chinese musical instruments of Japan are those of the Tarng court orchestras rather than those of the Confucian ritual. There seems to be no counterpart in Japan of the Jou orchestra preserved in Korea, for example, though a number of very early Chinese instruments have survived in the incomparable treasure-house of the Shoosoin at Nara. This collection includes a Chinese chyn of the fifth century.3 What is perhaps the most ancient Japanese music—that of the temple dances and of the Noo (182) plays—makes use of flute or flutes and drums only, and seems to point to an even earlier musical substratum than that associated with the Shang culture in the Yellow River valley in the second millennium B.C.

Of considerable musical interest is the structure of the archaic lyric drama known as Noo, which reached the peak of its development in A.D. 1500, though in its use of masks and stylized expression it seems to hark back to a period earlier than the fifteenth century. The Noo orchestra consists of one stick-beaten and two hand-beaten drums and a cross-flute. While the drums maintain a regular rhythm, the voice moves to a large extent arhythmically and is only rarely supported by the flute, which for the most part provides interludes. Certain standard melodic patterns are introduced into a chant otherwise at one pitch—though this may change from time to time.4 A very characteristic feature is the shift in level of the voice by steps of a fourth, often by two fourths in succession. The notation of the Noo music is a flute notation. Like the Chinese drama of Yuan times, the texts of the Noo repertoire have considerable literary merit. The most famous, by the fifteenth-century writer Seami, have been studied extensively.5

The music for the solo instrument known as the yamada koto (178), essentially a large jeng with thirteen silk strings, has been the subject6

1 H. and N. Konoye, Etenraku (Tokyo, 1935).

2 K. Hayashi, Swei-Tarng Yannyuehdiaw Yanjioiu (181) (Shanghai, 1936) (Chinese translation); H. Tanabe, Nihon Ongaku Kōwa (Tokyo, 1926).

3 R. H. van Gulik, The Lore of the Chinese Lute (Tokyo, 1940), pp. 181–9.

4 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 136.

5 N. Peri, ‘Études sur le drame lyrique japonais’, Bulletin de l’école française de l’ex-trême orient, ix (Hanoy, 1909), pp. 251, 707; also succeeding volumes. A. Waley, The Nō Plays of Japan (London, 1921).

6 Piggott, op. cit., p. 88. Examples of koto music are recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 9.

of a special study. This is the most highly developed of the many

Japanese board-zithers and its music is largely in the various major

third modes. The style was fully elaborated in the seventeenth century,

when a blind musician, Yamazumi, created the various modern

forms. The same constructional principles are to be detected in

slighter, less elaborate and more popular melodies.1 A short phrase

of perhaps five notes serves as the basis of the entire composition,

undergoing transposition and every kind of variation in the process

of elaboration. This is music conceived largely in terms of the instru-

ment and arising out of its mechanical properties; in particular the

extended form known as danmono (179) is purely instrumental. An

attractive feature is the use of arpeggios of the set of thirteen strings

tuned to the characteristic major third scales. The following is from

the first verse of ‘The Plum Branch’ :2

Ex. 243

When accompanying the voice, the koto approximately follows the

voice and maintains the rhythm if the voice sustains a note; it may

supply two-note intervals—octaves, perfect or diminished fifths,

fourths, thirds and seconds—to increase sonority.

An excellent account of Japanese Buddhist cantillation is available.3

The music is undoubtedly Chinese in origin, but elaborate ornamen-

tation leads to a single syllable being sung to a group of notes instead

of to a single note, as in the Chinese Confucian hymns. The notation

(of which there are various forms) includes symbols indicative of the

pitch of the main note to which a syllable is sung, and more or less

graphic neums indicating voice movements during the execution of

the ornaments about the main note. In the following fragment the

numerals mark the essential degrees of the scale (Ex. 244).

1 Ibid., p. 102. See also Tokyo Academy of Music, Collection of Japanese Koto Music,

(Tokyo, 1888).

2 Ibid., p. 90.

P. Demiéville, Hôbôgirin (Tokyo, 1930); see article ‘Bombai’ Tôyô Ongaku Kenkyû,

xii-xiii (Tokyo, 1954), is largely devoted to essays on Buddhist music.

150 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

Ex. 244

MIAU

Leaving the peoples of countries bordering on north China, we must now consider the music of various non-Chinese peoples living in southern China and the highlands of Burma and Indo-China. The anthropological and ethnological relationships of these peoples are complex, and no attempt will be made to classify them.

The Miau (10) are a large group of tribes scattered over southern China and the highlands of Annam. To them are related the Yau (11) and perhaps some of the Thai-speaking peoples of Haenan (183) and the border country of China and Indo-China. In certain respects their culture presents features reminiscent of the earliest records of Chinese civilization. The antiphonal courtship songs of the Miau have been compared with similar songs in the Book of Songs (Shyjing)1 but this comparison has not gone unchallenged.2

The most striking feature of the music of the Miau tribes is the use of large mouth-organs resembling the Chinese sheng. Among the Chingmiau (184) of Gueyjou Province the sheng have six pipes, the

1 M. Granet, Fêtes et chansons de la Chine ancienne (Paris, 1926), p. 147.

2 B. Karlgren, 'Glosses on the Kuo Feng Odes', The Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities Bulletin No. 14 (Stockholm, 1942), pp. 71-247. See p. 75.

longest of which may be 4 feet in length (pl. 6 (b)). In other tribes still larger specimens occur, up to 13 feet in length, but the largest forms often have only three pipes. The free reeds are cut from thin copper. The six-pipe sheng of the Chingmiau is fairly accurately tuned to the scale D F G A C D, beginning on the D below middle C; this is the Chinese la mode on F. A small blob of wax may be stuck on to the tongue to modify the frequency of vibration.

At least two men play at a time and while playing they lead an open, square, or round dance with the women following. The pace of the music is always a leisurely andante, even when the performers are leaping about with considerable speed and energy. The effect is grave and moving; this is a music with none of the uncertain pitch of Chinese opera or flexible rhythm of Chinese zither music.

Since the six pipes are played in groups of two or three at a time, as with the Chinese sheng, it is understandable that the music has a very limited melodic range. Ex. 245 was written down from a performance by members of the Chingmiau tribe a few miles outside Anshuenn in Gueyjou.:

Ex. 245

The alternation of sucking and blowing is approximately indicated by the accents. A change in timbre between chords produced in these two ways adds to the quality of the music in a manner which cannot be guessed from the score. The phrasing suggested is not authentic; it is merely the sort of phrasing of which the performers made use. Since the pipes used for producing the middle voice in Ex. 245 (that is, A, G, and F) and the lowest pipe, D, are those with greatest resonance, the middle voice stands out in performance. Variety is obtained by varying the middle part; wherever possible, fourths and fifths are added above and below, as shown in the example.

In one dance the rhythm of the steps only coincided with that of the music to the extent that twenty steps were fitted to twenty quavers of Ex. 245. The distribution of accented stamping steps in

152 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

the twenty-step unit (checked repeatedly during the performance) was as follows:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

At times the second quaver of the ligatures was dotted, giving a 'Scottish snap' to the movement. The players tended to break off on the interval CG.

While this is the music played at the New Year Mating Festival in the second fortnight of February, corresponding to the Old Style Chinese New Year, music of another kind may be heard on market days, when the Miau come into the Chinese towns from their villages. The following is a fragment of a melody played in unison on two six-holed cross-flutes by two men who stood facing each other; it contains a major third tetrachord and would be converted into the Japanese mode hirazyoosi if the octave G were added:

Ex. 246

Ex. 247 is a remarkable three-note tune1 from the Yau people of Lienyang in Canton Province:

Ex. 247

Some of the Miau tribes use a Jew's harp;2 though no description of this instrument is given, many of the peoples of countries bordering on southern China have a bamboo Jew's harp, and it is certain that this is one of the very ancient instruments common to the whole area (p. 185).

The fourteen-pipe mouth-organs of the people of Laos in northern

1 Hwang Yeoudih, 'Lienyang Yauren-di Inyueh', Minswu, i (4) (Canton, 1942), pp. 28-35. 2 F. Savina, Histoire des Miao (Hong Kong, 1924), p. 25.

MIAU

153

Annam are made in three sizes: mezzo-soprano, contralto, and baritone, and in sweetness and clarity they are said to surpass both Dyak mouth-organ and Chinese sheng. Ex. 248 (‘The Possessed’) is written on three staves, but whether played by three instruments is not clear:1

Ex. 248

Some of the examples show that the instrument may also be used entirely melodically: to play a one-line melody without chords or with only occasional chords or a pedal-point.1,2

In the highlands of Burma and the country of the Yunnan-Burma

1 M. Humbert-Lavergne, ‘La Musique à travers la vie laotienne’, Zeitschrift für vergleichende Musikwissenschaft, ii (1934), pp. 14–19. Laotian mouth-organ music is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 6.

2 G. Knosp, ‘Histoire de la musique dans l’Indo-Chine’, Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, v (Paris, 1922), pp. 3100–46. See p. 3145.

154 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

border are the Karen people, possibly related to the Miau and possibly (though doubtfully) belonging to the Sino-Tibetan language-group. They make use of mouth-organs not inferior in size to those of the Miau,1 though differing from these in that they lack a mouth-piece a foot or more in length.

LUOLUO AND MINJIA

While the Miau and Karen are only doubtfully included in the Sino-Tibetan language-group, the Luoluo (6) are unquestionably members of the Tibeto-Burman branch. Those in the vicinity of Lihjiang (185) in south-western Yunnan, belonging to the Mosuo (7) group, have been studied by Professor Fuh Mawji (186) formerly of Hwajong (187) University, to whom I am indebted for specimens of their bamboo Jew's harps and of their tunes.2 The first type consists of a single vibrating tongue, cut in a length of bamboo; it vibrates in a long narrow slit and is set in motion by jerking the end of a short length of silk-gut attached to one end, while holding the other firm by a loop of silk. The instrument is held across the mouth, in front of but not touching the parted lips. By varying the shape and capacity of the mouth-cavity, selected partials of the fundamental are reinforced—as in playing all types of Jew's harp.

A more interesting type of Jew's harp consists of three tuned vibrators, each yielding a note of fixed pitch. In this case the vibrators are excited by plucking a slender projection on the free end (pl. 6 (c)). The three notes are, judged by ear, from above down: F sharp, D sharp (both above middle C) and the G sharp below middle C; they are clear and musical in quality.3 The player not only changes the shape of the mouth but alters the position of the tongue, as if articulating the words. Young men and women are able to exchange messages using this instrument as a generator of sound, modified by the changing properties of the mouth cavity as a resonator, as in speech.

Two popular three-note tunes, played on the triple Jew's harp, have been written down by Professor Fuh. The first, in ternary measure, is called ‘The Bees Fly across the Golden Sand River’:

Ex. 249

1 Sachs, The History of Musical Instruments (New York, 1940), p. 184 and pl. X d.

2 See also J. F. Rock, ‘The Romance of 3K'A-3MÂ-1GYU-3MI-3GKYI', Bulletin de l'école française de l'extrême orient, xxxix (Hanoy, 1939), pp. 1–152; in particular pp. 2–5, 7–13, and 122.

3 Another specimen is tuned F sharp, D sharp, and C sharp.

LUOLUO AND MINJIA

155

The second, in common time, is ‘A Dog Follows a Deer’. The unit is repeated over and over again, sometimes at great speed.

Ex. 250

Among the Lihjiang Mosuo the Jew’s harp plays an important part in the courtship pattern of the community.1 With another Tibeto-Burman people, the Minjia (188),2 now considerably sinicized, living about a hundred miles south of Lihjiang, on the Eelhae (189), the Jew’s harp is only a children’s toy. It is a small version of the first type described from the Mosuo, but with a cloven tongue (pl. 6 (d)).

NAGAS

Away to the west, over the southern continuation of the Himalaya range, are people who belong to the central and southern Assamese division of the Tibeto-Burman family: the Nagas. Their musical instruments include a bamboo Jew’s harp with a single vibrating unit, almost identical with those of the Lihjiang Mosuo and of the Minjia, and played in the same way; a flute; a fiddle,3 and slit-drums—the last often of gigantic size.4 5 The Sema Nagas have no slit drums, though they make use of various struck or shaken idiophones for non-musical purposes, but they have a two-holed cross-flute and a bamboo Jew’s harp. The following example is a three-part chorus sung by these people.6

Ex. 251

1 See Rock, op. cit.

2 For a general account of this people (not, however, of any musical interest) see C. P. Fitzgerald, The Tower of Five Glories (London, 1941).

3 C. von Fürer Haimendorf, The Naked Nagas (Calcutta, 1946), fig. 49.

4 Ibid., figs. 38, 39. 5 Sachs, The History of Musical Instruments, p. 30 and pl. Ib.

6 J. H. Hutton, The Sema Nagas (London, 1921), p. 370.

156 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

ANNAM1

The urban music of Annam is very largely sinicized.1.2 In the towns the instruments in use are Chinese, or variants of Chinese instruments, and (with the exception of single sonorous stones or metal slabs) all belong to the ‘modern’ category, that is, they are instruments imported into China in T'ang times or later. The instruments of the Confucian orchestra survive only as illustrations in early books, or as rare specimens, no longer played, in the imperial palace; even the sheng has been forgotten in Annam.

Of the tunes and fragments available, none exhibit any trace of the major third scale noted in Tibet, Korea, and Japan; with one exception all are ‘Chinese’, and all but two are strictly pentatonic. While the do mode is the most frequent, examples in other modes also occur. The following is a popular fiddle tune (for a fiddle of ellhwu-type, p. 93) entitled ‘Running Water’:3

Ex. 252

A tune of unusually regular sequential structure is the following ‘Spring Breeze’4 (Ex. 253).

3 Knosp, ‘Histoire de la musique dans l'Indo-Chine’ p. 3100.

2 G. de Gironcourt, ‘Recherches de géographie musicale en Indochine’, Bulletin de la société des études indochinoises, Nouvelle Série, xvi, No. 4 (Saigon, 1942), pp. 7–174.

3 Knosp, op. cit., p. 3104.

4 Ibid., p. 3105.

Ex. 253

ANNAM

157

Knosp gives an interesting account of improvisation and examples of characteristic turns of phrase, including the following with its chain of fourths :1

Ex. 254

All the examples so far quoted are in duple or quadruple time. A remarkable specimen is the following hexatonic tune in triple time; this tune is more Indian in character than Chinese.2

Ex. 255

Some features of the material collected by Knosp suggest the presence of a more ancient ethnic substratum in Annam, and this suggestion has been fully confirmed by more recent studies.3 In rural areas, and in particular among the Sedang people, north of Kontum, an entire armoury of primitive bamboo instruments and stone chimes is in use. There are even hydraulic orchestras, actuated by the overflow from irrigation channels, including slit-drums, clappers, xylophones, stone-chimes, and a bowed gourd; two or more instruments, playing rhythmically and melodically differentiated parts, are mechanically co-ordinated so as to play continuously. To this list of archaic

1 Knosp, ‘Histoire de la musique dans l’Indo-Chine’, p. 3106.

2 Ibid., p. 3103.

3 G. de Gironcourt, op. cit.

158 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

instruments may be added two forms of ground-zither, played by men only and used to accompany courtship-songs.1

The specimens of rural music available display archaic features as striking as the instruments. The following example is the antiphonal vocalization of a waterman and his wife, as heard at dusk on the Hue River.2 It makes use of four notes only, distributed over a range of one and a half octaves; the repeated drop of a fourth is striking:

Ex. 256

Superposed fifths are also to be heard:3

Ex. 257

Pure expanded-triad melodies occur, such as, for example, this lullaby from Phuc-tho:3

Ex. 258

Even in urban music there are traces of an early substratum in funeral music. The following example is played on a double-oboe with reeds made from the pupal skin of a certain insect; the two components are tuned so that each ‘note’ is an interval of a minor second. This

1 Knosp, ‘Histoire de la musique dans l’Indo-Chine’ p. 3117.

2 Ibid., p. 3126.

3 G. de Gironcourt, op. cit.

instrument is doubled by a true oboe. The fragment is repeated indefinitely:1

Ex. 259

The ‘fanfared’ character of this example (p. 178) suggests that it derives from the same ancient substratum as Ex. 258. Such expanded triad melodies are characteristic of certain primitive peoples in New Guinea. The existence in Annam of many ancient instruments, including two of the oldest chordophones known, and of a great variety of non-Chinese types of melodic utterance, is compatible with what is known from other sources of the ethnological complexity of this region. It is of interest that one type of ground-zither preserved in Annam occurs also in the southern Sudan among the Nuer.2

CAMBODIA

One account of Cambodian music3 records that these people neither sing in the street nor play single instruments, though they possess a sonorous orchestra of instruments of superb workmanship. It may be, however, that this author was unfortunate in his contacts, since there is available from another source a collection of fifty-four songs, both words and music, from all the provinces of Cambodia.4 More recently a further collection of twenty-one songs, and a number of specimens of rural music (work-songs, &c.), and also of aboriginal music from the most primitive inhabitants, have been published.5

Although the Khmers, ancestors of the Cambodians, were raised to a high cultural level for a thousand years by Indian colonists reaching Cambodia at the beginning of our era, the musical culture of their descendants, unlike that of Burma, shows very little Indian influence.

Of the fifty-four songs transcribed,4 two only are based on major third scales; half of the remainder are purely pentatonic minor third scales, half are hexatonic with minor third tetrachords; only a few are heptatonic. Some of those in the hexatonic group make only occasional use of the semitone. With few exceptions they are all in common time.

1 Knosp, ‘Histoire de la musique dans l’Indo-Chine’, p. 3109.

2 A. N. Tucker, Tribal Music and Dancing in the Southern Sudan (Africa) (London, n.d.), p. 13.

3 Knosp, op. cit., p. 3129.

4 A. Tricon and Ch. Bellan, Chansons cambodgiennes (Saigon, 1921).

5 G. de Gironcourt, op. cit. A Cambodian lullaby is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 5.

160

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

The following example exhibits the plagal form of the mode hirazyoosi (to use the Japanese name); the upper tetrachord is occasionally filled in. This and other examples appear to be syllabic:

Ex. 260 ‘Dâmbang dèk’ (‘Iron Rod’ or ‘Small and Tender’)

Moderato

The first part of the next example is in plagal iwato with the lower tetrachord occasionally filled in; in the tenth bar it modulates to a different genus and key, returning to a major third tetrachordal structure in the last two bars:

Ex. 261 ‘Peak pràmpel’ (‘Seven Words’)

Lento

A number of the songs in the collection have four equal notes to the bar throughout, dotted notes or notes of two or three times the unit value being absent or few, as in the following example:

Ex. 262 ‘Bok srou’ (‘Rice-pounding Song’)

Moderato

CAMBODIA

161

The following four bars resemble the most ancient surviving Chinese melodies:

Ex. 263

In most of the songs, however, dotted ligatures replace single notes here and there, though the four-beat rhythm is maintained.

Ex. 264

The following is a more highly organized tune:

Ex. 265

Ex. 266 is a royal funeral chant sung antiphonally by soloist and chorus accompanied by oboe and two drums:1

Ex. 266

While popular rural tunes may show major-third tetrachords and occasionally ‘filled-in’ tetrachords, the aboriginal music in some instances exhibits pure ‘fanfared’ melodies.1

Cambodia has been included in the group of countries of eastern Asia where chime-instruments tend to have an equal-tempered octave

1 G. de Gironcourt, ‘Motifs de chants cambodgiens’, Bulletin de la société des études indochinoises, nouvelle série, xvi, No. 1 (Saigon, 1941), pp. 51–105.

B 3608

M

162 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

of seven equidistant notes, each of which can serve as a locus of inversion for pentatonic scales.1

The 21 instruments in use in Cambodia include 2 xylophones of 21 and 17 keys respectively and a chime of 21 bronze plates; 2 gong chimes, the one an octave higher than the other; 3 long lutes; 3 fiddles, of which one is a spike-fiddle of Persian origin; a stick-zither with a gourd as resonator; an oboe and a flute; cymbals, 4 different types of drum, and clappers of wood.2 The striking difference, as compared with the Annamese orchestra, is the presence of various chimes. The stick-zither is not an orchestral instrument; it is unquestionably of great antiquity, like the ground-harp and zither of the Annamese.

There are 2 court orchestras, one of male, the other of female, performers. In the former, out of 11 instruments, 5 are chimes (gongs and xylophones are the chief melodic instruments), 2 are flutes, one is a spike-fiddle and the rest are percussion. To the 5 chimes, the women's orchestra adds 6 different stringed instruments. The following 3 bars illustrate in short score a point at which heterophony becomes harmony:3

Ex. 267

SIAM (THAILAND)

Not until the end of the fourteenth century did Siam become a political unit under the leadership of Thai conquerors from the border country adjoining Yunnan, but by the end of the following century the new unit had conquered Cambodia and annexed the Malayan Peninsula. Prior to the end of the fourteenth century, the area later to become Siam was occupied by a group of states all strongly influenced by Indian culture; in certain regions this influence was predominantly Hindu, but for the most part it was Buddhist 3

1 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 132.

2 Knosp, op. cit., p. 3131.

J. Auboyer, 'L'Indochine' in L'Asie orientale des origines au XVe siècle (R. Grousset) (Paris, 1941), pp. 378 ff.

SIAM (THAILAND)

163

The tonal system of the Siamese was one of the first Far Eastern systems to receive attention from the West.1 It may even be said that Siam achieved a certain notoriety among musicologists when it was discovered that the system of the Siamese tends towards equal temperament of an unusual type: the octave is divided into seven equal parts. Generally speaking their tunes do not make use of all seven steps but of five only, skipping two to produce pentatonic scales that the Western ear interprets as ‘Chinese’ pentatonic scales of major seconds and minor thirds. Three modes are used, corresponding to the Chinese do, sol, and la modes.

When subjected to physical measurement this tempering is found to be far from accurate, and singers appear to take little notice of instrumental temperament. One recording includes a passage in which the singer makes use of almost Western intervals, but alternates with an orchestra playing in the tempered scale.2 In this recording the singer is never accompanied but alternates with orchestral ritornelli.

The Siamese orchestra seems to be almost identical with that of Cambodia.3 In a recording in the Music of the Orient series4 the Siamese orchestra is in fact identical with the Cambodian male orchestra of the palace. An entire composition was transcribed by Stumpf5 and has recently been reprinted by Davison and Apel.6 Ex. 220, taken from Seelig,7 is a tune (No. 17(b) in that collection) entitled ‘The Slim Cambodian’.

Ex. 268

1 A. J. Ellis, ‘Musical Scales of Various Nations’, Journal of the Society of Arts (27 March 1885); C. Stumpf, ‘Tonsystem und Musik der Siamesen’, Sammelbände für vergleichende Musikwissenschaft, i (1922), pp. 129–77.

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 133.

3 Phra Chen Duriyanga, Siamese Music (Bangkok, n.d.).

4 E. M. von Hornbostel, Music of The Orient (Record M.O. 107) (Parlophone, London).

5 Stumpf, op. cit., pp. 171 ff.

6 A. T. Davison and W. Apel, Historical Anthology of Music, i (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1947), p. 4.

7 For a collection of 150 melodies see P. J. Seelig, Siamesische Musik (Bandoeng, 1932).

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MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

BURMA

From such transcriptions as are available1 and from the constitution of Burmese orchestras, there seems little doubt that Indian influence predominates in the music of Lower Burma. The characteristic Burmese orchestra is that accompanying plays in which the shadows of two-dimensional puppets are projected on a screen. It consists of two pairs of clappers, two pairs of cymbals, a gong-chime (like those of Siam and Cambodia), a drum-chime, a large drum, and two oboes (see pl. 7 (b)).2 Omitting the gong-chime, this is the sort of instrumental ensemble to be met with in southern India. It may be mentioned that Burmese orchestras were known to the Tarng court, and that the Tarngshu (190) contains an account of Burmese music.

The Burmese apply the term ‘Chinese’ to their pentatonic melodies;1 and these form but a small part of the repertoire. The following is interesting in relation to some of the Cambodian tunes: if the rests are filled in with repeated notes the resulting melody closely resembles Ex. 262 (p. 160):

Ex. 269

Another ‘Chinese’ tune differs from classical Chinese tunes in the way it is built up in a square, predictable manner:

Ex. 270

Practically all the tunes quoted are symmetrical in structure; some of them have that exciting rhythmic quality which one associates with Indian drumming. Here is a tune with a conspicuous major third-minor second tetrachord, but with the semitone above (Ex. 271).

1 G. Knosp, ‘La Birmanie’ in Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, v (Paris, 1922), pp. 3094–9. See also F. Bose, Musikalische Völkerkunde (Freiburg i. Br., 1953), p. 129 and examples 53 and 54.

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 153.

Ex. 271

The melody has a non-Far-Eastern character in that the strong accent falls almost invariably on a note of the tonic chord of D major.

JAVA, SUMATRA, AND NIAS

The music of Java has been the subject of several memoirs of outstanding importance.1 No part of the world, other than Japan, shows such a predilection for major third scales as does the Malay Archipelago; and in west Java (culturally the most primitive part of the island) singers perform in scales with two disjunct major third tetrachords, comparable to the Japanese mode kumoizyoosi. Instruments and whole orchestras are tuned to scales which include one or more major thirds, as in Exs. 272 (Sachs) and 273 (Groneman and Land); this major third pentatonic genus, pelog, is to be found not only throughout Java, but in Bali as well:

Ex. 272

When the pitch of successive notes in these scales is accurately measured, it is found that, on the same instrument, one third is not the same size as another, and seconds may be of several sizes. The reason for this is that the orchestras consist almost exclusively of idiophones tuned by comparison with standard metal bars kept by the gong-founders. Neither the cycle of fifths nor the harmonic division of strings is known to these people; their scales are duplicated, not constructed.2

1 J. Groneman and J. P. N. Land, De Gamelan te Jogjakard (Amsterdam, 1890); D. de Lange and F. F. Snnelleman, ‘La Musique et les instruments de musique dans les Indes orientales néerlandaises’, Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, v, pp. 3147-78. Jaap Kunst, De Toonkunst van Java (The Hague, 1934); Music in Java (The Hague, 1949); M. Hood, The Nuclear Theme as a Determinant of Patet in Javanese Music (Groningen and Djakarta, 1954).

2 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 129.

166

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

In order to allow more than one mode to be played within the same range, the idiophones of the pelog-orchestras are given seven notes; this series may be approximately represented as follows, starting from E: E F G A B C D. Although there were originally three ‘female’ (pelog) modes, nem, lima, and barang, much of the lima-material now available shows nem-characteristics.1

Ex. 273 pelog patet nem2

Corresponding to the Chinese minor third pentatonic genus, the Javanese also have a ‘masculine’ genus, salendro or slendro, taking its name from the Indian dynasty of the Sailendra which ruled Java from the end of the eighth until the end of the tenth century. The two genera—pelog and slendro—are played by different sets of instruments in different orchestras. In effect, melodies in slendro sound to the Western ear like Chinese pentatonic melodies; but the octave in fact tends to be divided into five equal steps. The tuning of old instruments excavated in Java suggests, however, that there was a time when the octave was divided into steps approaching three major seconds and two minor thirds. It has been suggested that, whereas in the West, equal temperament arose from the need for freedom of transposition, in Java, it arose from the attempt to play melodies in different modes in the same range on instruments of fixed pitch.3

A recent study4 has shown that both slendro and pelog are essentially non-equidistant scale-systems. The results imply that the tendency to equal temperament has been overstressed. Furthermore, contrary to earlier views, pelog and slendro modes can be distinguished by their structure—by the position of tonic and dominant, and by their characteristic cadences, themselves determined by the limited range of the dominant chime-idiophone. The parallel with cadential formulae in the Tarng (?) melodies of Ju Shii (p. 109) is striking.

The following example is in the slendro mode nem.2

Ex. 274

1 Hood, op. cit., pp. 194 ff.

2 De Lange and Snellerman, op. cit., p. 3156; taken from Groneman and Land, op. cit., pp. 57 and 78.

3 Sachs, The Rise of Music, pp. 131, 132.

4 Hood, op. cit.

JAVA, SUMATRA, AND NIAS

167

It seems probable that the names for the modes were invented in

relation to the major third pentatonic genus pelog and it is now accepted

that this is the older genus.

Like Cambodian and Siamese orchestras, the Javanese orchestra

or gamelan includes the Persian spike-fiddle known as the rebab; this

instrument leads and is responsible for the prelude and for announc-

ing the melody which forms the basis of the whole composition. The

Javanese also have a solo reed instrument, a type of oboe, the selom-

pret, but this does not form part of the gamelan.

In addition to the gong-chimes the Javanese make use of a number

of celesta-like metallophones constructed on a plan similar to that of

Indo-Chinese xylophones, but with flat metal plates replacing the

wooden slats of the former. Both gong-chimes and at least one type

of celesta (the gender) incorporate tuned resonators in their struc-

ture. As in the orchestras on the mainland, several solitary gongs of

large size are also used. The gamelan includes one instrument not

represented in the Cambodian armoury; this is a board zither of

fourteen strings tuned to a pelog scale of two octaves.

In west Java a number of primitive instruments occur. The chime-

idiophones among these are all made of wood; some are suspended

xylophones of tubes or laths of bamboo. In those made with tubes,

these are closed below and cut away at the open end until only a

long, more or less flat, vibratile tongue, tuned to the pitch of the

tube, remains. This form of tube is the same as that found in the

other type of idiophone, the angkleng. In this, two or more tubes

tuned at the octave are arranged in a wooden frame in such a way

that they can slide in slots, and are caused to emit their charac-

teristic notes by striking against the end of the slots; a number

of such frames, each of two or three tubes, may be arranged in a

chime.

In Java occurs the first example we have met of a primitive zither

constructed entirely of bamboo. This is the tube-zither, ketoeng-

ketoeng.1 It consists of an internode of bamboo together with its two

adjacent nodes. Round the periphery of the cylinder are a number

of 'strings' formed by lifting up strips of the outer layers of the tube

itself, and tuned by inserting small blocks of wood under the 'string'

at each end. A hole is cut in the wall of the tube, so that the cavity

acts as a resonator (pl. 6 (e)). Another primitive instrument is the

set of panpipes, consisting of ten or twenty reeds, closed below, and

1 The figure in de Lange and Snnelman, op. cit., p. 3168 is wrongly labelled soeling;

the soeling is a vertical flute, cf. ibid., p. 3149.

168

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

assembled in such a way that their open ends can be blown across in sequence.

A full score of an entire composition for a gamelan of twelve different instruments has been prepared;1 it includes ten distinct melodic voices. Except for a greater range, the theme itself is indistinguishable from Prince Tzayyuh's examples of the earliest Chinese ritual music (p. 102). It is as follows:

Ex. 275

Da Capo

Two bars of the full score are shown in Ex. 276.

Recent work has revealed a correspondence between the vibration frequencies of certain early Javanese metallophones and the vibration frequencies of particular modes on reed pipes.2 The results suggest that some of these early metallophones must have been tuned to a note series generated by a pipe. The suggestion is of the greatest importance, not only because it implies that at some period in the past the Javanese had a means of generating scales instead of copying them, but also because it raises the question whether pentatonic genera of some kind necessarily precede heptatonic and heptatonic genera in time.

In striking contrast to Javanese orchestras, none of the four different orchestras of northern Sumatra contains idiophonic chimes; all have single idiophones (gongs), percussion and a solo instrument of some kind—flute, clarinet, rebab, or other fiddle. This suggests Arab or Indian influence and might perhaps be correlated with the early conversion of this part of the island to Islam. Marco Polo records the existence of a Mohammedan state in west Sumatra as early as 1292.3 Among the more primitive peoples of the island, the idiophonic chime occurs in the form of a xylophone of bamboo laths; there is also a bamboo tube-zither, a two-stringed short lute, and a bamboo Jew's harp resembling those of the Naga, Mosuo and Minjia.

1 De Lange and Snellerman, op. cit., pp. 3160–4; taken from Groneman and Land, op. cit., p. 105.

2 Kathleen Schlesinger, The Greek Aulos (London, 1939), pp. 334ff.

3 The Travels of Marco Polo. Book III, ch. xi.

JAVA, SUMATRA, AND NIAS

169

Ex. 276

Rebab

Xylophone

(Gambang)

Celesta with

resonators of

bamboo (Gendèr)

Celesta

(Saron)

Celesta

(Demung)

Gong-chimes

I & II

Gong-chime

III

Zither

Drum

Two Gongs

Two Kettle-gongs

170

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

A detailed account of the music of Nias, an island off the west coast

of Sumatra, has been given.1 The inhabitants of the southern districts

are closely related to the Nagas. They exhibit a remarkable type of

anhemitonic, tetratonic, vocal melody of the range of a tritone

and usually in three-beat measures. The instruments of the island in-

clude single gongs; a three- or four-keyed xylophone, the keys of

which rest on the thighs of the performer sitting over a trench; a

remarkable aerophone consisting of a bamboo 'tuning fork', the tube

of which selects and reinforces the fourth or fifth upper partial of the

fundamental; idiochordic tube-zithers with one to four strings, struck

or plucked; a Jew's harp; an idioglottal free-reed pipe; a nose-flute

and other flutes. The following example is a transcription of the gong

music played in central Nias on festal occasions. The original score

includes three drums:

Ex. 277

BALI

No part of the non-Western musical world has received more sym-

pathetic treatment from Western musicologists than the small island

of Bali, next in sequence to Java in the chain of the Archipelago.2 In

contrast to Java which, from contact with Muslim India, was pre-

dominantly under the influence of Islam in the fifteenth century, Bali,

having rejected Buddhism at a very early date, escaped the Islamic

influence and remains to this day essentially Hindu. The ritual orches-

tras make no use, however, of instruments associated elsewhere with

Hindu influence.

The classical orchestra, originally used only in the ceremonies con-

nected with cremation, is composed almost exclusively of idiophones;

1 Kunst, 'Music in Nias', Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, xxxviii (Leiden,

1940), pp. 1-89 and p. 26 in particular.

2 J. Kunst and C. J. A. Kunst-Wely, De toonkunst van Bali (Weltevreden, 1925).

C. McPhee, 'The Balinese wajang koelit and its music', Djawa, xvi (Jogjàkartà, 1936);

'Angkloeng gamelans in Bali', Djawa, xvii (Jogjàkartà, 1937); A House in Bali (New York,

1944).

BALI

171

the only non-idiophonic instruments are the drums. The scale

of the instruments is of four notes only. In many of the classical

orchestras (gamelans)1 the idiophones are entirely metallophones;

but in certain parts of Bali the classical gamelan includes wooden

idiophones: angkloengs and two types of xylophones. Even when

angkloengs are absent the classical gamelan is referred to as gamelan

Angkloeng.2

The keyed metallophones are of two types: those in which the keys

are suspended freely over the resonators; and those in which they

rest on some damping material over the resonators. The former are

the gendèrs, the latter, the gangsas. On the whole it is the gendèr type

which is used in gamelan Angkloeng. Each gendèr has four keys within

the range of an octave, and there are large, medium, and small

gendèrs, tuned an octave apart. The gamelan includes a pair of the

largest size and four (two pairs) of each of the other two sizes. The

members of these pairs are tuned so that there is a difference in pitch

—which may be as large as three-eighths of a tone in the large

instruments—between corresponding keys; the effect of this is to

give a bell-like sonority to the higher registers and a throbbing

intensity to the lower.3

The remaining metallophones are the réjongs and gongs. A réjong

is a pair of tuned kettle-gongs mounted one at each end of a wooden

handle, and tuned a second or a minor third apart. They are played

in pairs by two players, who between them cover the whole of the

four-note scale. It is known from bas-reliefs that such réjongs existed

in Java at least as early as the fourteenth century. Each gamelan also

has a single gong, lower in pitch than the lowest note of the large

gendèrs and tuned to a note which is not of the scale, but which

roughly converts the four-note scale into a pentatonic scale. Thus if

the scale is G A B D, the gong might be any note between Eb and F#.

A second small gong is tuned to one of the notes of the scale but at

a high pitch. Cymbals and two small drums, tuned a second apart,

complete the gamelan.

Remarkably enough, the scale of the gamelan Angkloeng: G A B D,

the 123.5 sequence of the commonest Chinese mode, common to so

many primitive peoples, is considered by the Balinese to be identical

with the four chief notes produced by a Jew’s harp, gènggong:

G Bb C D, that is 134.5, and tunes for the one are played on the

other.4

1 A gamelan is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 7.

2 McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, p. 122. 3 Ibid., p. 128. 4 Ibid., p. 127.

172 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

The nature of the parts played by the different instruments is as follows.1 Lowest in pitch is a canto fermo played on the largest gendèrs. This is in minims with a gong stroke at every ninth minim. Above this the higher pitched gendèrs play a melody in quavers based on the canto fermo, and above this the réjongs play a two- or three-part figuration in semiquavers. In the classical gamelan the line based on the canto fermo may disappear, and the higher pitched gendèrs may assist the réjongs in the figuration. The following example illustrates this figuration and its relation to the canto fermo:2

Ex. 278

The type of melody developed from the canto fermo is shown in the next example:3

Ex. 279

In bars three and four the genders occasionally split into two voices a fifth apart; because of their greater sonority the fifths stand out as a cross-rhythm in relation to the movement of the canto fermo. Similar fifths arise in the réjong figuration and give life to the music, just as does syncopated drumming within a fixed framework. There is a certain similarity between Balinese drumming technique and that of réjong playing; and also similarity in form between réjongs and Indian (and Japanese) hour-glass drums.4 It is possible that the polyrhythm of the figuration is not Far Eastern but Indian.5

The composition of an old-style gamelan Angkloeng is as follows.

1 McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, pp. 128 ff. 2 Ibid., p. 131. 3 Ibid., p. 135. 4 Ibid., p. 129. 5 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 139.

BALl

173

The usual four-note metallophones and a single set of réjongs are supplemented by two small gangsas, four angkloengs, and two different kinds of xylophones: the grantang with angkloeng-like keys, and a simple xylophone without resonators, the tjoengklik. In this gamelan the réjongs and angkloengs are responsible for the figuration, the lowest gendèrs give out the canto fermo and the other keyed metallophones play the melody in unison. Grantang and tjoengklik each produce a different paraphrase of the melody. Only four of the nine staves of the original score are quoted here, omitting two staves of angkloengs, one of réjongs, one of cymbals, and one of drums.1 The third note of the series is a Bb in this example; this deviation is accepted as a mere change in intonation:

Ex. 280

1 McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, p. 138.

174

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

Yet another tuning is found in a different gamelan. One of the melodies played by this gamelan is as follows:1

Ex. 281

The following two bars in full score (Ex. 282) illustrate the texture of another type of orchestra, the old-style ceremonial gamelan Gong, consisting exclusively of metallophones and drums.2 Here the gong-chime expounds a flowing five-note pelog melody (scale: G# A C# D E) and the cantus of the gendèrs receives a first amplification from the gangsas in double octaves. This example illustrates the extraordinary harmonic quality imparted by the punctuating gongs.

The pieces played by the gamelans nearly always consist of two sections: a ‘body’ (pengawak) followed by an Allegretto (pengètjèt).3 Each is introduced by a solo (the pengawit): a statement of the musical material which it introduces. Whereas the ‘body’ is a complete statement which does not require repetition, the Allegretto is meant to be repeated; its closing note is the note on which it opens, and it is in fact an ostinato of at least a dozen repeats. The pengawit intimates what piece is to be played and sets the pace.

Since the sixteenth century, the vowels of the five names of the notes (ding, dong, deng, doeng, and dang) have been used in Bali to record melodies. Though time values are not indicated, the metres are named.

1 McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, p. 141.

2 McPhee, ‘The Five-tone Gamelan Music of Bali’, The Musical Quarterly, xxxv (New York, 1949), pp. 250-81.

3 McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, p. 132.

Ex. 282.

Ceremonial Gamelan Gong, Old Style

1. metallophones, gangsa type;

2. metallophones, gender type;

3. cymbals;

4. gong-chime, trompong soloist, 5, 6, and 7 punctuating

5. 4-note

rèong

1st and 2nd players;

BALI

175

176

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

The last example is an improvised pelog tune:1

Ex. 283

Three admirable transcriptions of Balinese gamelan music, for two pianos, have been published.2 One—‘Music for the Shadow Play’—is in the genus slendro: the other two are in pelog.

In Bali, Indian types of orchestra, consisting of rebab, flutes, cymbals, &c., are used for two purposes: one type accompanies the classic drama, Gamboeh, played in fourteenth-century Javanese, the themes of which are taken from romantic or mythical versions of Javanese history;3 and a similar orchestra of flute and percussion accompanies Ardja, a type of drama which draws to some extent on modern Chinese tales. In the latter the use of an instrumental accompaniment seems to be a relatively modern usage.4

OTHER ISLANDS OF THE INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO

There are two reasons for including the other islands of the Indian Archipelago in this account. First, there are islands where primitive forms of instruments already met elsewhere in more refined versions survive; it would be wrong to give the impression that the distribution of these instruments ceases abruptly in Java and Bali. Secondly, there are traces in this area of a musical culture profoundly different from that so far reviewed. Though the music of China at the present time differs from the ritual music of ancient China quite as much as it differs from the ritual music of the Balinese gamelan, all three have greater affinity with each other than they have with certain musical elements to be met with in the islands.

The ethnological picture of this region is of the utmost complexity; in New Guinea alone, there are hundreds of tribes of varying mixtures

1 McPhee, A House in Bali, p. 210.

2 McPhee, Balinese Ceremonial Music transcribed for Two Pianos, Four Hands: Pemoengkah; Gambangan; Taboe teloe (New York, 1940).

3 B. De Zoete and W. Spies, Dance and Drama in Bali (London, 1938), pp. 134 ff.; Gamboeh music is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, side 8.

4 Ibid., p. 196.

OTHER ISLANDS OF THE INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO

of races with many and various cultural strata superimposed. The

evidence supports the view that there are in this area traces of a

different main stem of mankind, of a people more different from the

Mongoloids and the Proto- and Deutero-Malays than are these from

each other; and it is suggested that this fact is reflected in the total

musicological picture of this region. The most important work in this

field from the standpoint of comparative musicology is that of Kunst,1

though valuable information regarding instruments and the music of

certain tribes is to be found scattered through the anthropological

literature of this part of the world. A brief survey of the instruments

of the islands with some account of musical practices is included in

de Lange and Snellerman's article previously mentioned.

While many of the instruments recorded are such as we have already

encountered, there are others (many idiophones, certain flutes, certain

free aerophones) which are new and which are obviously primitive

instruments (in the sense of Sachs's classification). From the distribu-

tion of various instruments in this area, it is clear that New Guinea

and the adjacent islands constitute a region in which a high propor-

tion of these primitive instruments occurs. It is also in this region that

a type of music becomes conspicuous of which in this survey only

traces have hitherto been encountered.

Before coming to discuss the music of the Papuans, the occurrence

in Madagascar of stick-zithers with resonators (both plucked and

tapped), and of tube-zithers, should be mentioned; they were taken

thither by a Malay people (the Hovas) some time in the fifteenth

century.2 The tube-zither of the Hovas (valiha) has the strings tuned

for the most part in thirds (D F A, E G B) in a manner recalling one

tuning of the Japanese yamatogoto or wagon (191) (d A D G B E),

claimed by the Japanese as an entirely national instrument and said

to have been derived from six long-bows tied side by side.3 Chords

of thirds or sixths are frequently used in playing the valiha.

From Borneo (Sarawak) songs of great interest have been recorded

and transcribed;4 in some instances these combine an upper minor-

1

Kunst, A Study on Papuan Music (Weltevreden, 1931); Over zeldzame Fluiten en

veelstemmige Muziek in het Ngadaen Nageh-Gebied (West-Flores) (Batavia, 1931);

'Music in Nias'; 'Music in Flores', Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, Supplement

to xlii (Leiden, 1942).

2

A. Sichel, 'Histoire de la musique des Malgaches' in Encyclopédie de la musique,

1re partie, v, pp. 3226-33. See also Sachs, 'Les instruments de musique de Madagas-

car', Travaux et mémoires de l'institut d'ethnologie, xxviii (Paris, 1938), and The History

of Music in Sound, i, side 5.

3

For a recent account see E. Harich-Schneider, op. cit, p. 57.

4

C. S. Myers, 'A Study of Sarawak Music', Sammelbände der internationalen

Musikgesellschaft, xv (1914), pp. 296-308.

B 3608

N

178 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

third tetrachord with a lower major-third tetrachord with the semitone above. The following example, from the Long K iput tribe is of particular interest in relation to the style of antiphonal singing described from Tibet (p. 139):

Ex. 284

The major-third tetrachord with the semitone below is also displayed in music from Sarawak. Ex. 285 is a Kenyah dance-tune played on a six-pipe mouth-organ (keluri). The triple rhythm and pendulating tonic-dominant harmony are both noteworthy.

Ex. 285

The Papuans of the Nassau Range in New Guinea know no other musical instrument than the Jew’s harp, but they possess two entirely different types of melody.1 While the greater part of their melodies are primitive in the sense that their range does not as a rule exceed a fourth, others have a range of as much as an octave and are ‘fared’: that is to say, they are expanded common chords. Recordings from the Kauwerawet people of the Van Rees Mountains on the one hand, and from pygmoid tribes of the Central Mountains on the other, also reveal two completely different types of melody. The following example is from the Kauwerawet; melodies of this kind are characteristic of Australian culture:

Ex. 286

1 Kunst, A Study on Papuan Music, pp. 24 ff.

OTHER ISLANDS OF THE INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO

179

The next example is from the Awembiak, one of the Central tribes;

it is fanfared and has a range of an octave and a half:

Ex. 287

Certain coastal melodies, such as those of the Waropen, seem to

betray Malayan influence, judged by their pelog character. The fol-

lowing is an example:

Ex. 288

Other coastal melodies are triadic in character but not fanfared. This

suggests that the fanfared melodies are correlated with the persistence

of the Negrito civilization in those regions most sheltered from foreign

influence: the mountain ranges of the interior of New Guinea. It is

assumed by some authorities that fanfared tunes can arise only in

regions where wind-instruments are, or have in the past been, played;

but fanfared melodies also occur in Formosa among the Vusun1

aboriginals and are there clearly linked with the use of the musical

bow. With this instrument the fanfare is derived from the upper

partials of the fundamental, selectively reinforced by the mouth

cavity. Similarly, the Jew’s harp may be the source of the Negrito

fanfares; for any instrument producing sounds in which the harmonic

series of overtones is conspicuous may serve as a source of a fan-

fared series (2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th overtones), when coupled with the

mouth cavity as a selective resonator. It may be argued that the

Negrito civilization, although comparatively primitive, stands on a

higher level, from a musical point of view, than does the younger

component, represented by the ‘Australian’ melodies. This superior-

ity in musical culture is paralleled by the general cultural superiority

1 Takatomo Kurosawa, ‘The Musical Bow of the Bununs[sic] Tribe in Formosa and

Suggestion as to the Origin of the Pentatonic Scale’, Tôyô Ongaku Kenkyû, x-xi (Tokyo,

1952), pp. 18-32.

180

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

of the Negritos as compared with coastal peoples, in whom the portion of Australian and Melanesian blood is higher.1

Although the extreme type of fanfared melody seems to be confined to central New Guinea and certain of the islands off the coast, melodies of a pronouncedly triadic character have been recorded from the coastal regions of New Guinea, among the Semang in central Malaya, in Flores (east of Bali in the chain of islands), and in Samoa among the central Polynesian Islands.2 It is understandable that canons in unison may arise from the antiphonal singing of triadic melodies, and such have been transcribed from recordings made among the Semang.3

The most remarkable canons are those recorded in west Flores.4 One of these is a two-part canon in unison sung by two women over a drone bass of tonic and fifth sustained by two men; a third man proposes a chromatic variant on the melody (against the drone) while the women interrupt their canon.5 The following is another (partial) canon on a tonic pedal held by two voices:6

Ex. 289

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

It remains now to consider the interrelations of musical cultures over Far Eastern Asia, both in time and space. First, in contrast to

1 Kunst, A Study on Papuan Music, pp. 24 ff.

2 See Exs. 44 and 78.

3 F. M. Kolinski, 'Die Musik der Primitivstämme auf Malaka usw.', Anthropos, xxv (1930), pp. 585-648.

4 See Ex. 113.

5 See Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 51, ex. 29. The complete canon will be found in Kunst, 'Music in Flores', p. 77.

6 Kunst, Over zeldzame Fluiten, p. 78.

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

181

the condition observable in what has been defined here as the Far Eastern area, orchestras of idiophonic instruments have never (so far as we know) been a feature of the musical life of India. This statement may require revision when more is known of the musics of primitive Indian peoples. It remains true, however, that the whole tendency of cultured Indian music is towards chamber music: a singer is accompanied by a double drone on the tambura, or by two fiddles and a pair of hand-beaten drums, or by vînâ (a stick-zither), fiddle, and drum.1 Such ensembles obviously have more affinity with the Chinese theatre orchestra than with the ritual orchestra described in the Yilii (p. 90) or with the orchestras of Siam, Cambodia, Java, and Bali. The ritual music of Bali introduces us to a very different musical world, a world with almost no point of contact with the orchestras of present-day India and almost without contact with the music of present-day China; but it resembles, to some extent, the world of ancient Chinese ritual.

If we survey rapidly the present distribution of ‘idiophonic’ orchestras, that is, of orchestras including a high proportion of chime-idiophones, we find, first, a few ritual orchestras surviving in China, rarely, if ever, played. In Korea we find stone-chimes, bell-chimes, celestas of iron plates, surviving in their ancient Chinese form and still played. In Annam a few instruments survive in the palace, un-played, but as we have seen (p. 157), in rural Annam both stone- and bamboo-chimes and orchestras are to be found. In Cambodia and Siam we meet with a functional orchestra of gong-chimes, celestas, and bamboo xylophones, with flutes and drums as the only non-idiophonic components. In Java we observe a division of the celesta-like metallophones into forms with and without resonators; flute and sometimes rebab are used as leading solo instruments—perhaps a trace of Islamic dominance. Then comes the classical Balinese orchestra of idiophonic instruments and drums only; next the wooden chime-idiophones scattered over the islands, sometimes united as orchestras, sometimes used as single instruments; and finally there are the single wooden idiophones, simple as opposed to compound, flung far out over the Pacific Islands even to the Americas: the slit-drums and drum-substitutes made from bamboo tubes.

Were there no chime-idiophones in Korea and China one might define an Indonesian musical culture centred on Java, fading out in Annam in contact with China, in Burma in contact with India, in the islands in contact with Australian and Negrito elements. But the

1 Sachs, The Rise of Music, p. 192.

182

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

existence of chime-idiophones as the first-named components of the

Jou ritual orchestra, surviving to this day in Korea, necessitates a

different assessment: their existence suggests that that cultural ele-

ment in Indo-China, in Indonesia, and in the Pacific islands, which is

responsible for the existence of chime-idiophones today, was still

actively shaping Chinese musical culture at the time of the Warring

States in the third century B.C.

We might suppose that Chinese influence in our own era had

imposed this chime-idiophone culture on Indo-China and Indonesia.

But this is out of the question. Annam, for example, the region most

obviously under Chinese influence, was an integral part of the Chinese

empire from 111 B.C. until A.D. 939; it was again held by the Chinese

for a brief period in Ming times. Yet in spite of a deliberate attempt

by the Annamite dynasty to foster Confucianism in 1007, and a fierce

persecution of Buddhism in favour of Confucianism by the Chinese

in Ming times,1 there is almost no trace of the ritual orchestra in

urban Annam at the present time. Indeed, chime-idiophones only

survive in regions least exposed to Chinese influence.

A second possible channel of Chinese influence was established

later: Khubilai Khan, Mongol emperor of China, attacked Java in

1292. His offensive was repulsed; but from this time onwards

Chinese influence in Java grew until, at the end of the fifteenth cen-

tury, it is noticeable in the treatment of landscape in temple bas-

reliefs.2 The contact was established too late, however. It is not to be

supposed that Chinese influence in Yuan times led to the develop-

ment of an orchestra in some respects more primitive than the ritual

orchestra of Jou times.

In Siam and Cambodia, on the other hand, the chief formative

cultural influence is usually held to have been Indian—either Sivaist

or Buddhist; yet the music of Siam and Cambodia is characterized

by the use of orchestras of chime-idiophones with the rebab as the

sole Indian (or Islamic) borrowing. From bas-reliefs on the great

stupa at Borobudur in Java (750) it is known that orchestras of the

time included all the instruments of ancient India.3 The evidence

suggests that in Java, at any rate, Indian musical influence was at one

time paramount in court and ritual orchestras; it renders even more

striking the fact that Java now shows so little trace of this influx of

foreign instruments. If one assumes that Siam and Cambodia were

at one time no less Hinduized than was Java, it is remarkable that

1 J. Auboyer, op. cit., pp. 396 ff.

2 Ibid., p. 412.

3 Sachs, A History of Musical Instruments, p. 235.

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

183

they also exhibit so little Indian influence in their current musical practices.

An alternative explanation would seem to be that in the remote past the inhabitants of the great plain of the Yellow River included an ethnic element closely related to that now distributed all over southern China, Farther India, Indo-China, Indonesia, and the Archipelago.

A number of cultural parallels have in fact been adduced at different times in support of the idea of an ancient community of culture over Far Eastern Asia.

One such is the parallel between ceremonies in different regions in which protective animals participate.

Attention has been drawn to the resemblance of the Balinese Barong to the lion-dancers in Hokusai's album Daily Exorcisms;1 and the Barong has been compared with the Chinese lion that dances in the street at the New Year.2 To these may be added the Tibetan lion dancers.

It must be admitted, however, that the common factor in these parallels may be Tantric Buddhism of Indian origin.

There are, however, certain other features, so far unconsidered, common to the musical cultures of the different peoples in this area.

One of these is the importance of the bamboo plant.

The Javanese myth of the origin of music is described by Raffles in the following terms: 'the first music of which they have any idea was produced by the accidental admission of the air into a bamboo tube, which was left hanging on a tree . . . the angkloeng was the first improvement upon this Aeolian music.'3 Here, as in the Chinese account of the making of the pitch-pipes (p. 94), bamboo is of primary importance.

A second point in relation to bamboo concerns the curious mixture of names of bells and of pipes in the Chinese names for the series of pitch-pipes, the lühlü (p. 95).

This mixture of names has functional parallels in Indonesia.

In the quotation from Raffles an idiophonic instrument is regarded as the descendant of a wind-instrument; conversely one finds wind-instruments (goembang) in gamelans in West Java, which functionally replace single gongs and are in fact bass flutes; other examples of such instruments are to be found on other islands—on Flores, for example.4

The functional equivalence of struck xylophones and struck metallophones can be observed all over Indo-China and Indonesia.

Moreover, in the area of the islands many of the simple struck idiophones are resonating bamboo tubes; for a tube may either be struck or

1 De Zoete and Spies, op. cit., p. 95.

2 M. Covarrubias, Island of Bali (London, 1937), p. 356.

3 Quoted by McPhee, ‘Angkloeng gamelans in Bali’, from T. S. Raffles, The History of Java, i (London, 1817), p. 472.

4 Kunst, Over zeldzame Fluiten, op. cit., p. 14.

184 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

blown to yield a note. The observation, then, that names of bells and

names of bamboo tubes were freely mixed in naming a series of pitch-

pipes in ancient China, is surely less surprising when one finds:

(1) blown pipes functionally replacing struck metallophones; (2) bam-

boo xylophones existing side by side with metallophone chimes; and

(3) a living tradition to the effect that, although a blown pipe pro-

duced the first music, a struck tuned pipe (the angkloeng) was the first

improvement on such a system.

Considerable interest has been aroused among musicologists by the

parallels between Chinese and South American panpipes.1 In surviv-

ing specimens of Chinese panpipes, the pipes are divided into the two

sets, the liuh and the leu, arranged symmetrically on either side of the

instrument. In ancient Peru the two sets of panpipes (in ‘raft’-form,

as in China), played by two players, were connected by a cord. This

arrangement still exists in Bolivia and among the Karen in Burma.

Now the two sets of pipes in the Chinese instrument are the male and

female portions of the series (p. 95); and, as if echoing Chinese

practice, among the Cuna Indians of Panama, the player has two

sets of panpipes, a fifth apart, referred to as man and wife and con-

nected by a cord. These instruments seem to point to the possibility

that a knowledge of the properties of pipes is a part of the most

ancient cultural heritage of a people distributed in the course of time

from the Yellow River valley to the Burmese hinterland and Central

and South America.

The whole position of the bamboo plant in early Chinese civiliza-

tion is of importance in the discussion of cultural affinities. It seems

reasonable to assume that, whatever elements may have coexisted or

been added at a later stage, there must have been a considerable

bamboo-cultural element in the people who made and played and

sang about mouth-organs (in the Book of Songs) in the eighth cen-

tury B.C. Elephant and buffalo, as well as the bamboo rat, Rhizomys,

were known to the people of Anyang in Shang times, and the climate

in general was milder and more humid then than later.2 Though large

bamboos do not grow today in the region of Anyang they may well

have grown there in the second millennium B.C. The presence of such

a bamboo-cultural element would make understandable the pre-

occupation of these people with the properties of pipes as sound-

producing organs of all types, both as wind-instruments and as

1 Sachs, A History of Musical Instruments, p. 178.

2 P. Teilhard de Chardin and Pei Wen-Chung, Le Néolithique de la Chine (Pekin,

1944). See pp. 15-20.

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

185

struck-idiophones. Furthermore it seems likely that a relationship

between struck-idiophones and free aerophones, such as one observes

in this area, could only have been discovered in a bamboo culture,

since bamboo is unique among natural products in mechanical pro-

perties and in conformation.

Various wooden idiophones have been known in China since

ancient times: the tiger (a scraped idiophone), the percussion clapper,

and the trough (a struck-idiophone) were used in the Jou orchestra;

the wooden fish, still in use among Taoists and Buddhists, is a slit-

drum. By this armoury of simple wooden idiophones, China is linked

with many peoples of south-eastern Asia; and one of these ancient

idiophones, of the dimensions of a toy, distributed at the present

time almost universally over central Asia, Siberia, China, Indo-

China, Assam, Indonesia, and Melanesia, is the Jew’s harp.

The position of the Jew’s harp among musical instruments is re-

markable. It is, following Sachs’s classification, a plucked idiophone,

that is, an instrument of naturally sonorous material requiring no

additional tension (as do strings or membranes) to convert it to a

substance of high elastic modulus. But in the form in which it occurs

among the Naga, Mosuo and Minjia, for example, it is only a step

removed from the free reed of the mouth-organ. There is evidence

that the free reed has always been recognized by the Chinese as an

instrument distinct from the mouth-organ in which it occurs. It is

referred to in the Book of Songs as hwang (192) written with the

bamboo determinative, and this is nowadays identified ‘with the

metallic free reed of the mouth-organ: Waley1 translates, for example,

‘Blow my shêng-pipes, trill their tongues’, where ‘tongue’ is ‘hwang’.

Although the free reeds are of thin copper in the Miao mouth-organs

(p. 150), as they are in the Chinese instrument, in those from other

peoples of south-eastern Asia—from the Dyaks of Borneo, for

example—the free reeds are cut in thin bamboo and let into the wall

of the pipe (pl. 6 (f) and (g)). From the photograph it can be seen

that in construction these reeds are miniature Jew’s harps, with the

thickening near the free end of the tongue carved in the substance of

the reed, as in the Jew’s harps (pl. 6 (c) and (d)). ‘Whistles’ from

Shandong may consist of two short tubes of bamboo into the walls of

1 The Book of Songs (London, 1937), p. 192. This is the usual interpretation of this

passage; but it is worth noticing that there is a suggestive change in the verb in the

Chinese. A literal translation would be: ‘Blow sheng; strike hwang.’ Van Gulik (R. H.

van Gulik, Hsi K’ang and his Poetical Essay on the Lute (Tokyo, 1941)) has indeed

suggested that the hwang was a separate instrument—in his opinion a variety of sheng.

It may have been a plucked or struck idiophone.

186 MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

which two bamboo free reeds are inserted, as in the Dyak instrument (pl. 3 (j)).

From accounts of the Jew's harp-technique in eastern Asia,1,2 it is clear that although this is a plucked idiophone, and the mouth-cavity acts as a loosely coupled variable resonator, the amplitude of vibration of the tongue is influenced by the manner in which the breath is expelled against it. The Jew's harp is not so far removed from the free reed, activated by the breath and closely coupled with a tuned resonator, as one might suppose. The frequent use of a large, loosely coupled resonator with the Jew's harp in Java,3 for example, narrows still further the gap between free reed and Jew's harp. Only in bamboo, however, is a continuous transition possible, in the same material, from struck or plucked macro-idiophone to a plucked micro-idiophone (a Jew's harp) and from this to a breath-activated micro-idiophone (a free reed). This is because of the special properties of bamboo; its stiffness is greater than that of any other wood and it occurs naturally in the form of resonators.

One remarkable aspect of the Jew's harp technique in various regions of the Far East is its use to imitate animal or human sounds;3 similar use is made of its relative, the free reed. We have seen how the Jew's harp is used by the Lihjiang Mosuo in China to imitate speech during courtship (p. 154). The koouchyyntzyy (193) (a free reed 'whistle') is used in Pekin puppet plays today for imitating animal and human sounds—hens and infants, for example; and there is a Sonq account of a man rendered mute who successfully used a 'whistle' for purposes of communication, 'as do the puppet players'.4 In Bali there is a Jew's harp orchestra which not only plays music of the ritual orchestra, but also provides an accompaniment of animal noises for certain dances: in particular, noises of toads for a pantomime toad chase.5 Lastly, tribes of the Nassau Range in central New Guinea 'sym-bolise consciously certain animals by means of the Jew's harp. . .'.6

Even the onomatopoeic names for the Jew's harp, current in widely separated regions of eastern Asia, appear to be related. The Balinese gènggong recalls the gonggina of the Garos in Assam,7

1 McPhee, 'Angklöeng gamelans in Bali', op. cit., p. 127.

2 Emsheimer, 'Über das Vorkommen und die Anwendungsart der maultronmmel in Sibirien und Zentral-Asien', Ethnos, vi (Stockholm, 1941), pp. 109–27.

3 Kunst, Music in Java (The Hague, 1949), pp. 360 and 443.

4 Souen K'ai-ti, 'L'origine et le développement du théâtre des marionnettes chinoises', Bulletin du centre franco-chinois d'études sinologiques, i (Pekin, 1944), pp. 81–106 (summary in French) (1944).

5 De Zoete and Spies, op. cit., pp. 249 ff.

6 Kunst, A Study on Papuan Music, p. 8.

7 A. Playfair, The Garos (London, 1909), p. 44.

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

187

the kunka of the Golds (lower Amur, eastern Siberia)1 and the qongon

of the Gilyaks (lower Amur1 and Sakhalin). The Chinese hwang,

for the free reed–derived (according to Karlgren2) from an ancient

form g’wang, may also be related to these.

The coming of the Bronze Age to the Far East meant the transla-

tion of stone or bamboo idiophones, both simple and compound,

into bronze. The free reeds, we may suppose, were translated at this

time to metallic free reeds; and the Jew’s harp has also undergone

translation into terms of metal. Bronze Age culture undoubtedly

reached the various regions of the Far East at very different times:

although it was advanced, for example, in the plain of the Yellow

River by 1500 B.C., it does not seem to have reached northern Annam

until the fourth century before our era (p. 91). In rural areas on the

mainland and in some of the islands of south-eastern Asia, the transla-

tion of bamboo idiophones into metallophones has never occurred.

We have seen (p. 67) that the five notes of the Chinese scale were

anciently correlated with various aspects of the cosmos. A similar

correlation exists in Bali, where the five notes are associated with the

gods of the five directions: North, East, South, West, and Centre.3

The Centre is the realm of Batara Siva (whose colour is white) and is

equated with the first note of the series, ding. Each of the four direc-

tions has its colour and is equated with one of the notes. It may be

that this system is Indian in origin, but it has not been possible to find

an Indian correlation of a five-note scale with the properties of the

cosmos. Moreover, even before the third century B.C.,4 the Chinese

were certainly familiar with the Five Rulers of the Earthly Regions,

each with his characteristic colour. At the time of the compilation of

the Liijih Yuehling the following equation had been established

between the notes and the directions.5

Note Direction

mi east

sol south

do centre

re west

la north

1 Emsheimer, ‘Uber das Vorkommen und die Anwendungsart der Maultrommel in

Sibirien und Zentral-Asien’.

2 B. Karlgren, Compendium of Phonetics in Ancient and Archaic Chinese (Stockholm,

1954), p. 319.

3 McPhee, A House in Bali, p. 40.

4 G. Haloun, ‘Die Rekonstruktion der chinesischen Urgeschichte durch die Chinesen’,

Japanisch-Deutsche Zeitschrift für Wissenschaft und Technik, iii (Kobe, 1925), pp.

243–70.

5 Courant, ‘Essai historique sur la musique classique des Chinois’, Encyclopédie de la

musique, 1re partie, i, p. 93.

188

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA: 2. OTHER COUNTRIES

From McPhee's brief statement it is not possible to be certain what are the Balinese correlations of notes, colours, and directions, except in the case of the tonic, ding, which is the Centre and is white. In the Chinese system the Centre is yellow; but correlations varied. Symaa Chian,1 for example, quotes a system with re and la reversed. The existence of such a correlation in Indonesia, even though the terms correlated differ, merits investigation.

Looking back now over the whole of the Far Eastern area, we may surely regard it, with some justification, as a unit. From what centre an ancient common musical culture spread throughout the area under review cannot as yet be determined; nor are we in a position to do more than note the possible significance of cultural parallels recently established between the Balkans and south-eastern Asia, parallels which suggest a far closer connexion between the Far East and the lands of the Pontine Basin in the first millennium B.C. than has hitherto been envisaged;2 but that the 'chime-idiophone' substratum is of great antiquity is clear from the recent discovery in southern Annam of stone-chimes knapped in the manner of neolithic flints from the Bacsonian of Indo-China and tuned to a pentatonic scale close to the pelog scales of Indonesia.3

In spite of the foreign instruments and music which began to invade China from Han times onwards, and in spite of the one time dominance of Indian instruments and music in Indo-China and Indonesia, we are never likely to confuse Chinese, Siamese, Cambodian, or Indonesian music with Indian music, so strongly marked is the individuality of the music of Far Eastern Asia. In some of the islands of the Archipelago, however, we meet a different musical culture; there, melodies take the form of expanded triads or fanfares. Pure fanfared melodies also occur, as we have seen, in rural Annam and in Cambodia. Their occurrence on the mainland accords well with the general picture of population dynamics in south-eastern Asia; anthropological studies also suggest the presence in parts of Indo-China of

1 See M. Granet, La Pensée chinoise (Paris, 1934), p. 377.

2 Kunst, 'Kulturhistorische Beziehungen zwischen dem Balkan und Indonesien', Mededeling No. CIII, Afdeling Culturele en Physische Anthropologie, No. 46, Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen (Amsterdam, 1953).

3 Schaeffner, 'Une importante découverte archéologique: Le lithophone de Ndut Lieng Krak (Vietnam)', La Revue de Musicologie, xxxiiie année, n.s.: Nos. 97–98 (Paris, 1951), pp. 1–19; G. Condominas, 'Le lithophone préhistorique de Ndut Lieng Krak', Bulletin de l'école française de l'extrême orient, xlv (Paris, 1951), pp. 359–92. See, however, F. A. Kuttner's criticism in 'Nochmals die Steinzeit-Lithophone von Annam', Die Musikforschung, vi (1953), pp. 1–8.

CULTURAL INTERRELATIONS

negritoid peoples.1 The possible relationship of certain peoples of south-eastern Asia to African peoples must not be lost sight of; and here again studies of music and musical instruments already offer significant pointers.2 Finally, there is reason to anticipate that traces of other, and possibly earlier, musical strata than the common substratum will be found throughout the Far Eastern area ; it is for the future to confirm their existence and determine their ethnological significance.

1 W. Nippold, Rassen- und Kulturgeschichte der Negrito-Völker Südost-Asiens (Göttingen, 1936), pp. 109-35.

2 Kunst, ‘A Musicological Argument for Cultural Relationship between Indonesia—probably the Isle of Java—and Central Africa’, Proceedings of the Royal Musical Association, lxii (1936), pp. 57-76.

190

GLOSSARY OF CHINESE CHARACTERS

53 | 46 | 38 | 29 | 21 | 春 | 8 | 1

爛 | 剡 | 鐘 | 琴 | 碧 | 耒 | 雲 | 新

煌 54 | 敬 47 | 39 | 瑟 30 | 墳 22 | 耒 | 南 9 | 疆 2

笙 | 擇 48 | 鎮 | 瑶 31 | 墓 23 | 耜 16 | 耜 | 川 | 西安 3

55 | 京 房 | 40 | 箏 32 | 詩 經 24 | 司 訽 | 猛 11 | 唐 4

月 | 淮 48 | 轟 41 | 笙 | 貴 州 | 馯 迥 | 楊 | 子 | 秦 5

琴 | 淮 | 轟 | 笛 33 | 篇 | 史 記 | 江 13 | 漢 6

56 | 應 鼓 49 | 均 42 | 笙 | 荒 34 | 周 | | 周 禮 12 | 羅 7

三 | 武 50 | 政 43 | 簧 35 | 春 懐 | 明 18 | 楊 | 禮 | 麽 些

絃 | 山 東 51 | 泰 始 皇 44 | 管 36 | 柘 | 商 | | 呂 氏 14 |

57 | | | 籥 37 | 扜 | | | |

胡 | 52 | 毋 | 儀 禮 | 歌 | 安 陽 | | |

琴 | 魏 | | | | | | |

58 | | | | | | | |

二 | | | | | | | |

胡 | | | | | | | |

59 | | | | | | | |

洋 | | | | | | | |

琴 | | | | | | | |

(46): For shin read shi of Kangshi (89).

GLOSSARY

191

103 遍

95 方相

89 廉纖

84 合尺工凡六五

82 二三四五六七

74 沛

吕

60 伶倫

104 陰法會

96 雞

90 由拳

67 淮南子

75 調

61 古樂

唐宋大曲之來源及其組織

97 魏傀儡

91 曹劌

85 樂律全書

83 白石道人歌曲四卷

四部叢刊

76 均

68 武帝

62 宮商角徵羽

77 太宗

69 樂府

63 音律

78 宋

70 盡

64 呂

79 美婁

71 滆

65 律

80 宋姜

72 埻

73 鄭譯

81 金

98 傀儡

92 變徵

86 朱載堉

84 元

99 籥

93 變宮

87 鄭

100 箭

94 標

88 清

101 西安

95 標

102 大曲

武昌華中

192

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA

139

小

曲

140

訪

于

期

141

陽

關

三

疊

142

梅

花

三

弄

143

查

阜

西

135

曉

山

神

奇

秘

譜

136

桔

岡

彝

譜

137

清

山

彝

譜

138

徐

元

白

129

喜

相

逢

130

琵

琶

記

131

過

高

明

132

過

門

133

醉

翁

134

郭

汾

122

平

123

凡

124

律

詩

125

謝

元

准

126

雜

劇

127

元

曲

128

曲

牌

114

清

樂

115

方

馨

116

燕

南

竹

117

南

詞

118

北

曲

119

詞

120

聲

121

沈

約

112

同

庭

113

夏

日

讌

白

石

凌

人

弄

妓

普

庵

咒

燕

京

學

報

109

玄

宗

110

朱

熹

儀

禮

經

傳

通

釋

詩

樂

篇

111

越

九

歌

大

學

國

學

研

究

論

文

專

刊

105

白

居

易

106

破

107

齊

108

胡

樂

GLOSSARY

193

樂

181

彬

謙

三

隅

唐

琵

樂

調

研

究

182

能

183

海

南

184

清

旽

175

呂

旋

176

平

調

子

177

雲

升

調

子

178

山

田

琴

179

箜

物

180

越

天

會

從

歷

史

上

論

新

譯

歌

舞

海

上

夷

田

報

173

夷

琴

174

徘

徊

道

藏

168

黃

佐

樂

典

169

地

化

170

樂

府

詩

集

171

昭

君

怨

172

陰

法

161

排

簫

鼓

162

京

戲

163

翠

屏

山

164

排

簫

子

165

安

順

166

淚

潭

167

明

良

輔

156

水

磨

調

157

旄

曲

158

傳

奇

159

長

生

典

160

洪

昇

149

福

建

150

旽

明

151

成

都

152

昆

山

153

江

蘇

154

梁

伯

龍

155

魑

144

普

庵

咒

145

憶

故

人

146

滿

湘

水

雲

147

楊

大

鵬

148

梁

在

平

B 3608

194

MUSIC OF FAR EASTERN ASIA

185

麗

江

186

傳

憨

動

187

垂

中

188

民

家

189

湘

海

190

唐

書

191

和

琴

192

賀

贊

193

口

琴

子

194

孫

桓

第

德

偶

剋

參

源

中

法

漢

195

童

奴

中

樂

專

沂

水

196

失

陳

曉

揚

197

明

皇

明

探

戈

記

明

尊

生

館

刻

本

198

元

熊

朋

來

瑟

譜

199

清

商

200

甘

蘭

201

西

涼

202

天

仙

203

高

麗

204

龜

茲

205

安

國

206

疏

勒

207

康

國

208

高

昌

樂

書

荣

刻

元

印

本

學

坊

刊

的

漢

字

第一

輯

IV

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

By Arnold Bake

INTRODUCTION

The term 'Indian music' embraces a very wide and varied field of musical phenomena. Classical theory was formulated in detail as early as the second century B.C., the date now accepted for Bharata's Nāṭyaśāstra, the earliest surviving treatise. This is actually a work on stagecraft, but includes six chapters on music. On the subject of religious chanting there are even older texts, like the Rkprātiśākhya (fourth century B.C. ?), and the oral tradition of that kind of music goes back at least a thousand years more.

Apart from this historically developed and theoretically defined system, one has to take into consideration the numerous ways in which the different peoples and tribes of India give vent to their musical impulses, which vary according to their respective stages of culture. This wide range of musical activities has not escaped the notice of the indigeneous authors on music; they mention its existence but do not take it into account when formulating the classical theoretical system.

When we examine the system which the Indian writers themselves have built up, we see that we are confronted with something closely related to that of Ancient Greece. The conclusion reached by Antoine Meillet in respect of the metres of Ancient Greece and India: 'Le nombre et la précision des concordances du védique avec le grec sont trop nets pour qu'une rencontre fortuite soit vraisemblable',1 is equally applicable when comparing the systems of music of the two ancient civilizations.

The music of India is the easternmost representative of a large group of interrelated musical phenomena, in the same way as Sanskrit is the easternmost representative of a large group of Indo-European languages. On the northern and eastern border of India this group meets, but does not intermingle with, the basically different conceptions of the Chino-Tibetan and the Far Eastern tone-systems. It is

1 Antoine Meillet, Les Origines indo-européennes des mètres grecs (Paris, 1923), p. 76.

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THE MUSIC OF INDIA

true that one finds strains of a composite nature in the folk-music of

Nepal, northern and eastern Bengal, Assam, and down into the

Chittagong Hills, but the official system does not acknowledge them,

nor are they found anywhere outside these very definite border-

regions.

CULTURAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL IMPORTANCE

It is impossible to divorce Indian music from the whole struc-

ture of Indian culture and philosophy with which it is interwoven

in a number of ways from the earliest times of which we have

records.

A remarkable feature of Indian culture is its ability to integrate

many different and seemingly divergent tendencies against the back-

ground of a unifying philosophical thought. From an Indian stand-

point there is nothing strange in the fact that the Saṃgītaratnâkara

(The Ocean of Music), a treatise dating from the thirteenth century,

should begin with a detailed cosmogony, gradually narrowing its

scope to the human body and the stages of pregnancy from month

to month, before it gets down to what we should consider the subject

of music proper. To the Indian student, music is not an isolated

phenomenon but one directly and inextricably linked with philosophy

and religion, and of cosmic importance. The right kind of music-

that is to say, the only kind of music worth considering—is that which

deserves the epithet vimuktida (bestowing liberation), that is the music

which, when properly practised, serves to break the cycle of birth,

death, and rebirth. The eminent French Sanskritist Sylvain Lévi once

said: ‘On ne sait pas assez le rôle immense qu’a tenu la musique dans

les civilisations anciennes comme un élément intégrant de la vie

religieuse et politique.’1 To look into that aspect of the matter well

repays the trouble.

In the finished system, as found in the texts of the classical, pre-

Islamic period, such as the Saṃgītaratnâkara, we find the central

notion of nâda (sound) which has, of course, a musical connota-

tion, but, apart from this musical meaning, a physical as well as

a metaphysical aspect.

In music—the Sanskrit term for which, Saṃgīta, includes vocal

music, instrumental music, and dance—vocal music is considered to

be pure sound, sound per se, in contrast to instrumental music

which is described as a manifestation of sound. Dance, the third

1

In a letter to the Director of the Kern Institute of Leyden University (25 November

1929).

CULTURAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL IMPORTANCE

197

component of the triad, is dependent on both vocal and instrumental

music, so that music as a whole is dependent on sound.1

This definite distinction between the nature of vocal music and that

of instrumental music seems strange from a rationalistic standpoint.

Why should the one be pure sound in itself and the other a secondary

manifestation? It seems that at the time when these theories were

first formulated the function of the vocal chords was unknown. Thus

it is easily understandable that the miracle of the change from silent

life-breath (prâna) into sounds of meaning and beauty, without the

aid of any visible or perceptible agent, came to be considered as a

spontaneous manifestation of sound itself, basically different from

the sound produced by a man-made instrument.

That the function of the vocal chords was unknown, or at least

considered to be irrelevant, we may conclude from the description of

the five stages of this spontaneous manifestation:2 “This prâna then,

stirred by the fire of the body, goes gradually upwards and produces

an extremely subtle sound in the navel, a subtle sound in the heart,

a strong sound in the throat, a weak sound in the head, and in the

mouth a sound with the qualities of art.’

On the physical plane the entire human society is dependent on

sound, as explained by the following reasoning:3 ‘By sound the letter

is formed, by letters the syllable, by syllables the word, by words this

daily life. Hence this human world is dependent on sound.’

It must be borne in mind that the sound that rules the world by

means of speech is the same spontaneous manifestation which pro-

duces the musical phenomena.

The metaphysical theory of sound, set forth in the Samgîtaratnâ-

kara, shows the position of music in the religious system of India. It

probably represents a medieval attempt at explaining the actual reli-

gious importance of music which struck the philosophers of those

days, but had its roots in much earlier, even prehistoric periods.

1 Śârngadeva, Samgîtaratnâkara (referred to later as SR) Ânandâśrama Sanskrit

Series, 2 vols. (Poona, 1896), i. 2. 1; Dâmodara, Samgîtadarpana (referred to later as SD)

(Paris, 1930), i. 13:

gîtam nâdâtmakam vâdyam nâdavyaktyâ praśasyate

taddvayânugatam nrtyam nâdâdhinam atas trayam

2 SR, i. 3. 3-5a. SD, i. 34, 35:

pâvakapreritah so'tha kramâd ûrdhvapathe caran

atisúkṣmam dhvanim nâbhau hrdi súkṣmam gale punah

puṣtam śîrṣe tu paṭhyam ca kṛtrimam vadane tathâ

avirbhâvayatîty evam pañcadhâ kîrtyate budhaih.

(34)

(35)

3 SR, i. 2. 2; SD, i. 14:

nâdena vajyate varnah padam varnât padâd vacah

vacasov yavahâro 'yam nâdâdhinam ato jagat.

198

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

The metaphysical explanations are principally concerned with vocal sound, as being primary in nature. This, as we have seen above, was produced by the gradual upward surge of the prâna or life-breath. In its course the prâna passes different mystical centres of power, bearing the name of cakras (circles), portrayed as lotuses with a varying number of petals. Two of those cakras have special importance from the musical point of view, namely the anâhatacakra situated in the heart, and the viśuddha cakra in the throat. The latter, having sixteen petals, is considered as the seat of speech and of all the musical notes with their divisions and variations.1

The sound alluded to so far is only the âhatanâda (struck or manifested sound), which cannot exist without its ideal counterpart, the anâhatanâda (unstruck or unmanifested sound). It is this dual nature of sound as âhata and anâhata, which brings it right into the centre of religious-philosophical speculations, because the unmanifested sound, the anâhatanâda, is identified with the creative principle of the universe in its transcendental form of Shiva himself, as well as in its immanent form as the syllable OM which is said to reside in the heart. Hence the name of the centre of power placed there, the anâhatacakra:2

In the heart is a lotus with twelve petals, called anâhata, belonging to Shiva in his aspect of the syllable om, a beloved object of adoration.

There the wise revere the unmanifested sound according to the instructions of the preceptors, the sound that is for liberation but not for enjoyment. That sound, however, when manifested in the world, serves for enjoyment, but also to break the cycle of existence.

In this context the breaking of the cycle of existence means the merging of the individual self with the creative principle of the Universe.

It is now easy to see how music was held to serve as a means to that ultimate bliss. Sound, in its unmanifested aspect, was identical with the divine creative principle of the Universe, not only in its transcendental aspect, but also with that aspect which dwells in one's heart. So it remained for the individual to find the right way to realize the connexion between the latter aspect of the unmanifested sound and the manifested sound, in order to be brought into direct contact with the divine creative principle of the universe itself, which amounted to the desired liberation. The obvious means to this end was music,

1 SR, i. 2. 199 ff. SD, i. 18–25a.

2 SR, i. 2. 164b–165. SD, i. 16–17a:

tatrânahatam nâdam tu munayah sampupâsate gurupadiṣṭa-mârgena muktidam na tu rañjakam

sa nâdas tvâhato lokeranjako bhavabhañjakah.

(16)

CULTURAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL IMPORTANCE

199

and preferably vocal music, which by its own nature was pure sound

itself.

On the physical plane the power of music was easily grasped when

one understood that, on the one hand, sound regulated human society

through its power to form letters, syllables, and words, and that, on

the other hand, vocal music was that very sound in its spontaneous

form. The ideal means to influence and regulate the course of human

existence would thus naturally be a combination of words and musical

sound, that is to say the intoned formula, or mantra, which we actu-

ally find used for that end in every form of religion on Indian soil.

In the above philosophical construction of āhata and anāhatanāda,

we find consequently the crystallization of the ancient Indian belief

that music has a well-defined power to influence the course of human

life in this world, and that it even can lead to the ultimate bliss of

the merging of the self with the divine principle of the universe, in

other words that it can bring about the breaking of the cycle of

existence. Hence it fully deserves the epithet vimuktida (bestowing

liberation), given to it in the Sanskrit texts.

VEDIC MUSIC

The notion that the power of music, especially the intoned word,

can influence the course of human destiny and even the order of the

Universe, goes back to the very oldest surviving form of Indian music,

namely, the music of the Vedas. The intoned formula is the pivot of

the whole elaborate structure of Vedic offerings and sacrifices. It is

the power of the words, enunciated with the correct intonation, that

determines the efficacy of the rites: a mistake may destroy every-

thing. The priests claim that by their activity they not only uphold

the order of human society, but maintain the stability of the universe.

By means of well-conducted ceremonies they have compelling power

over the Gods themselves. The instrument that conveys that power

is the word. It is impossible to overlook the connexion between

Brahman, in the sense of divine principle, and brahman in the sense

of sacrificial formula or incantation.

The Vedic offerings comprise a great many actions: altars are built,

fires are lit, butter and other substances are poured into the flames,

and animals are sacrificed. Sometimes these activities may continue

for a year or longer, but none of them have any value unless accom-

panied by the prescribed recitations, uttered with exactly the right

intonation. Musically those recitations are of great interest, as in their

successive forms they represent the development from ordinary speech

200

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

to elaborate singing, with a compass ranging from one or two notes to an octave. The bhāṣikasvara (speech tone) has the narrowest compass and is employed, according to tradition, in reciting the formulas of the (White) Yajur Veda. It is an even recitation without variation in pitch. A greater compass, however, is found in the Rigveda, the basis of all the texts used at the Vedic offerings. It contains the hymns to the different deities as they were composed by the sages of old who are known by name, but about whose date nothing is known with certainty. Opinions range over a couple of thousand years, one school placing them in the fourth millennium B.C., another about the middle of the second millennium.

The way of chanting the Rigvedic hymns has definite musical importance, as the three accents employed, the udātta, the anudātta, and the svarita, denote a distinct difference in pitch. There is some controversy as to the original meaning of these accents and their relationship to the pracaya (multitude)—a term denoting a succession of unaccented syllables. As we find the practice of Rigvedic recitation in our days—and examples collected by Haug in 18741 and Felber in 19122 seem to indicate that at that time the same system was followed—the accents indicate a compass of a minor or major third, the middle note being the udātta, the lower the anudātta, and the upper the svarita. The pracaya coincides with the udātta, which, as a matter of fact, is itself unmarked in the Vedic texts. The anudātta is indicated by a horizontal line under the syllable, the svarita by a perpendicular line over it:

Ex. 290

(Taittirīya-āraṇyaka X. 11, as sung by Manjeri Ramakrishna Iyar, Allepey, Travancore.)

The melodic line follows the text in every detail; the words prescribe the rhythm and the flow; there is one note to each syllable, pitch is independent of duration. One might say that the melody only supports the words.

The Rigveda is extensively used, not only during the great Vedic

1 Martin Haug, Über das Wesen und den Werth des vedischen Accents (Munich, 1874); see also Fox Strangways, Music of Hindostan (Oxford, 1914), p. 247.

2 E. Felber-Geiger, Die indische Musik der vedischen und klassischen Zeit (Vienna, 1912).

sacrifices, but also during the lesser ceremonies in everyday life in the

house. A large measure of similarity in tradition over a very wide area

would thus point to a great antiquity and bear witness to a tenacity

of custom not surprising in a field where deviations from the pre-

scribed method were believed to have dire spiritual and material

consequences. Adherence to the hereditary style would last as long

as faith in the efficacy of the rites in question persisted. That faith has

not yet died in India in spite of the onrush of modern civilization.

In the Sâmaveda, which, in contrast to the Rigveda, is used ex-

clusively in connexion with the larger offerings and sacrifices, we find

a complete reversal of the rules laid down for the recitation of the

Rigveda. To begin with, the compass used is much wider, and some

schools of Sâmavedic chanting are said to use the full octave (the

texts give the names of the seven notes, originally counted from the

highest note downwards) but even if, as among the Nambudiris of

the Malabar coast who follow the Jaiminîya tradition, the compass

of only a second is used, the tendency is to deviate as far as possible

from ordinary speech or even chanting. The words are broken up in

an arbitrary fashion and often the periods start in the middle of a

word; vowels are lengthened beyond recognition, and syllables with-

out rational importance are inserted in the text. In most cases the

basis of the Sâmavedic chants is a hymn from the Rigveda, but it is

overlaid and changed to such an extent that the original is usually

well hidden. The object of this procedure is purely liturgical. By the

very minutely proscribed changes the spiritual efficacy of the formula

is heightened and the success of the sacrifice ensured.

The limitation of the use of the Sâmaveda to the actual offerings

and sacrifices is the cause of its much greater rarity, and it would be

useless to look for a sound tradition of the chanting of this Veda in

parts of India where, owing to social changes, these larger ceremonies

seldom take place: for instance, in northern India where continuous

foreign invasions have shaken the very basis of Hindu society. It is

in south India that the tradition according to the different schools is

carried on, handed down from teacher to pupil, as has been the case

for centuries. Priestly families in which the tradition is known to

have persisted unbroken for twenty generations are not uncom-

mon.

Research in this field, except by members of the priestly class itself,

is greatly hampered by the secrecy that surrounds this type of singing,

which is not meant to be heard, much less written down or recorded,

by uninitiated persons. This is hardly surprising when one realizes the

202

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

supernatural effect attributed to the correct reproduction of the

melodies.

At the actual sacrifices a hymn is executed by three priests who sing

its seven divisions alone or in chorus. The priests to whom the singing

of the Sâmaveda is allotted are the Udgâtar with his two acolytes, the

Prastotar and the Pratihartar. The introductory part, the Huṃkâra

(the singing of the syllable huṃ), is done by the three together. Then

follow: 2, the Prastâva, or prelude, sung by the Prastotar; 3, the

Udgîtha, or main theme, by the Udgâtar; 4, the Pratihâra, the first

responsorium, by the Pratihartar; 5, the Upadrava, second respon-

sorium, again by the Udgâtar; 6, the Nidhana, or final chorus, by the

three priests in unison; and finally, 7, the Praṇava, the chanting

of the syllable oṃ, also in chorus, which seals the hymn like our

Amen.

For purposes of study or practice, however, the hymns are sung

by one person only according to the song-books, the Gânas, of which

there are four. The different schools of Sâmavedic chanting all use

these four books, but sing them to quite different melodies. Even in

one and the same school the differences are sometimes considerable:

Ex. 291

Kauthuma Sâmaveda (Chidambaram and Trchinopoli) S.V. I66a

Ex. 292

Kauthuma Sâmaveda (Baroda)

It should be mentioned that the tradition of the Kauthumas, as observed in Trichinopoly and Chidambaram, both centres of south Indian orthodoxy, shows no differences at all, apart from those that might have resulted from individual uncertainties of one singer or the other. The totally different style of the example from Baroda which called itself Kauthuma too, may be due to the very influence indicated above-the foreign invasions and their cultural consequences-and bears traces of the flourishes of the later, purely secular, musical style, strongly influenced by Moslem practices.

One can see that the claim made by the classical Indian theory of music, that the proper use of this art leads to salvation, has its roots in the Vedic practices. It is true that the object of the Vedic ceremonies, built on the proper enunciation of the intoned word, is not salvation, in the later spiritual sense, but the upholding of the order of the world and, by extension, of the universe. But in both cases the sole aim is to get in touch with the powers of the world of the gods, an aim that has perpetuated itself through the centuries, varying only as to the nature of the gods and the nature of the desired contact.

The second component of the triad comprised in the word Saṃgīta, namely, instrumental music, has perhaps not such direct and clear connexions with the Vedic ceremonies as vocal music. Instruments are mentioned in the brâhmanas, the treatises that describe the procedure of the ritual, and drums and cymbals must have made their appearance at a very early date. However, seeing the paramount importance of the spoken or intoned word, it is but natural that instrumental music should occupy the second place. In any case it is more than probable that the development and perfection of instrumental Indian music is of much later date than that of the vocal art.

As to the third component of Saṃgīta, dance, which shares the epithet vimuktida with vocal and instrumental music, its links with Vedic ceremonies are very direct and clear. We find that the chanting was accompanied by movements of the hands, and perhaps also by

204

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

prescribed steps when executing certain tasks that involved going from

one place to another. The hand movements were partly mnemo-techni-

cal, the position of the thumb against the different phalanges of the

fingers indicating certain notes or figurations—rather like the Guido-

nian hand in Gregorian music—and partly had a textual meaning,

inasmuch as certain postures indicated certain ideas or symbolized

certain deities, thus approaching a sign-language that accompanied,

followed, and intensified the meaning of the chanted text. These

sequences of hand-postures and their development into a kind of

sign-language are the basis of the most classical form of all Indian

dancing, the Bharatanâtya of southern India, and, to a lesser extent,

of the Hindu forms of north Indian dancing, as well as of the mimed

dramas of the coast of Malabar, the Kathâkali and the Yakṣagâna.

As these movements are an integral part of the Vedic ceremonies

and share the holiness of everything that belongs to revealed religion,

one sees how they are by rights the third component of Samgîta,

in so far as they have their roots in the practices of the Vedic

ritual.

In actual life it is not improbable that at times the third component

of the triad had a more prominent position than the other two. As

mentioned above, the oldest data about the theory of music are found

in the Bharatanâtyaśâstra (c. 200 B.C.). This has thirty-six chapters,

of which only chapters 28–33 deal with music.

It seems doubtful whether, outside the ritual sphere, the spiritual

importance of music was always fully realized. After all, the âhatanâda

was said to be for enjoyment as well as for the breaking of the cycle

of existence, and one cannot wonder that the accent was often laid

on the first function rather than on the second. Still, many traces of

the original sanctity are preserved, for instance in movements of

adoration and obeisance which one sees musicians and actors per-

form even nowadays and, more especially, in the attitude of the pupil

towards his music-master, which is to a great extent that of a novice

towards his spiritual guide. It is not forgotten that—if the latter

understands his task properly—he ought to lead his pupil on the way

to salvation.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

Quite apart from its religious importance, the classical system of

Indian music deserves attention in its own right. It explains every

aspect of construction and technique in great detail, from the notes

of the scale and their subdivisions onwards.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

205

The Octaves

The basis of the classical system—as represented in the Samgītarat-nākara, for instance—is the octave and its division into tones and semitones, closely akin to our system. The number of octaves recognized is three, one in each register, the low being the breast register, the middle octave the throat register, and the high octave the head register. This classification is another proof of the primarily vocal conception of music in India.1

Consonance

The division of the notes of the octave is accomplished according to the laws of consonance, three intervals being recognized as such, namely, the octave, the fifth, and the fourth. Only they are consonant (samvādī). Dissonant (vivādī) are only the semitones. All the others are assonant (anuvādī).

Śrutis

For the definition of what constitutes consonance or otherwise, the Indian theory has recourse to a tonal subdivision smaller than the West has taken into consideration for the construction of its scales. This microtonic unit is called śruti, a word derived from the root śru (to hear) and it is defined as follows:2 ‘The sound that is just perceptible as such by the ear, without reverberation (i.e. harmonic connexion) is called śruti.’

There are twenty-two śrutis in the octave and the question has been asked whether they are mathematically alike. Sir William Jones, the first European scholar to interest himself in the matter, in the late eighteenth century, maintains that they are not, but are intended to be alike in a general way. He points out that mathematics do not enter into the subject at all as far as the writers of the Indian treatises are concerned.3 Bosanquet recognizes a general alikeness in the conclusion of his article ‘On the Hindu division of the Octave’,4 a conclusion with which Rao Sahib P. R. Bandharkar

1 SR, i. 3.7:

vyavahāre tvasau tredhā hṛdi mandro ‘bhidhīyate

kanṭhe madhyo mūrdhni tāro dviguṇaścottarottaraḥ.

2 SD, i. 49:

svarūpamātraśravanān nādo’nurananānam vinā

śrutir ity ucyate bhedās tasmād dvāviṃśatir matāḥ.

3 ‘On the musical modes of the Hindus’, in Asiatic Researches, iii (1792), p. 55. Reprinted in S. M. Tagore’s Hindu Music (Calcutta, 1882), pp. 123 ff.

4 Proceedings of the Royal Society, xxvi (1877).

206

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

agrees.1 Fox Strangways, however, attributes three definite mathematical values to the śruti:2 (a) the difference between a major and

a minor tone, 22 cents, called pramâṇaśruti; (b) the difference between

a minor tone and a semitone, 70 cents; and (c) the difference between

a semitone and the pramâṇaśruti, 90 cents. Reasoning along altogether

different lines, a German scholar, Dr. B. Breloer3 arrives at the values,

24, 66, and 90 cents, practically identical with Fox Strangways's conclusion. A more recent publication, however, A. Daniélou's book on

Hindu scales,4 attacks these calculations for not being precise enough.

The exact value of the śruti, therefore, is still debated. It would seem,

however, that, so far as the Indian opinion of ancient times is concerned, śruti is a generic name for any interval smaller than a semi-

tone. No mathematical approach to the matter is found in India

before the eighteenth century.5

Śrutis are important in practice in defining the character of parallel

modes with similar intervals; a śruti smaller or larger in the one mode

than in the other creates a different mood or atmosphere. They are

also of practical importance in ornamentation when the voice, or the

vibrating string pulled sideways, swings above and below the actual

pitch of the intended note without deviating as much as a semitone.

But it is quite wrong to suppose that these śrutis are ever used in

succession, like our semitones in a chromatic scale.

Svaras

In theory the śrutis are important to define the notes (svaras) of the

octave and to establish their consonance or otherwise. A note—or,

rather tonal interval—is defined as ‘an uninterrupted series of śrutis,

belonging together in harmonic connection’.6

ṣadja or sa, consisting of four śrutis,

ṛsabha or ri, consisting of three śrutis,

gândhâra or ga, consisting of two śrutis,

madhayma or ma, consisting of four śrutis,

pañcama or pa, consisting of four śrutis,

dhaivata or dha, consisting of three śrutis,

and niṣâda or ni, consisting of two śrutis.

1 Indian Antiquary, 1912. 2 Op. cit., p. 112.

3 Grundelemente der altindischen Musik (Bonn, 1922).

4 Introduction to the Study of Musical Scales (London, 1943).

5 In the Samgîta-pârijâta (Paradise Tree of Music) of Ahobala.

6 SR, i. 3. 26:

śrutyantaraṇārabhāvi yaḥ snigdho’nuraṇaṇātmakaḥ

svato rañjayati śroṭṛcittam sa svara ucyate.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

207

Bharata says that notes at a distance of nine or thirteen śrutis from one another (viz. fourths and fifths) are consonant. Those at a distance of twenty śrutis (viz. seconds or sevenths) are dissonant. The remaining intervals are assonant. The later texts give two śrutis distance as the definition of vivādī notes.

Grâmas

The scale according to the ratio 4, 3, 2, 4, 4, 3, 2, given above, is only one of the two basic scales, or grâmas, in practical use. It is called the sa-grâma, because it starts from the sa of the middle register.1 Parallel to this we find the ma-grâma, which is identical, except for the difference of one śruti in the pa, which in the ma-grâma consists of three śrutis, causing the dha to have four. It is expressly stated that the ma-grâma starts on the ma of the middle register.2 The ratio of the ma-grâma thus is: 4, 3, 4, 2, 4, 3, 2.

The fourth śruti of pa which in the ma-grâma becomes the first śruti of dha is called pramâna (standard) śruti, probably because it was the only śruti readily demonstrable in practice. As both the sa- and the ma-grâma were living conceptions in Bharata’s times, it was possible to set the middle of the sa-grâma, 4, 4, 3, 2, (ma, pa, dha, ni), against the beginning of the ma-grâma, 4, 3, 4, 2, (ma, pa, dha, ni) on two identical vînâs, the pa being played on the second open string in both cases. The difference in pitch between the two pas gave a demonstration ad auras of a śruti (śru = to hear) which then could serve as a measure—pramâna—for the determination of the other, purely theoretical tonal divisions.

Following the indications of the ancient texts, which—probably as a remnant of the original descending order of the scale in Vedic times—accept the axiom that a note is realized on the last of its component śrutis, the four śrutis of sa lie between sa and ni and not, as we would reckon, between sa and ri.

Consequently the sa-grâma roughly corresponds to a D mode, the ma-grâma to a G mode, the former beginning with a minor third, the latter with a major third. Bharata explains in book 28, in the prose following verse 32, that one can play the ma-grâma starting from sa by changing the initial minor third of the sa-grâma into a major third by giving the ga four śrutis instead of two.

A third basic scale, the ga-grâma, starting on the ga of the middle register, has no practical value and is not mentioned by Bharata, but

1 SD, i. 79: tatra madhyasthashadjena shadjagrâmasya mûrchanâḥ. SR, i. 4. 12b.

2 SR, i. 4. 13b. SD, i. 79. Madhyamadhyamam ârabhya madhyamagrâmamûrchanâḥ.

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only by writers some centuries younger than he. It is said, even by the

first writer who mentions it (Nârada), to exist only in heaven. This

may refer to an arrangement of śrutis that once existed, but had fallen

into disuse at the time when the theoretical treatises were written, or

to the fact that it is a purely theoretical construction. Its ratio is 3, 3,

3, 4, 3, 2, 4, and consequently it seems to have no connexion either

with the sa- or with the ma-grâma, except for the fact that the pa

consists of three and the dha of four śrutis, as in the latter. Apart from

mentioning it in passing, the texts take no further notice of this ga-

grâma and base their subsequent calculations exclusively on the sa-

and the ma-grâma.

Alterations

The difference in allocation of śrutis to the pa and the dha found in

the two grâmas is a basic and unalterable one. Apart from this, one

finds that the notes in each grâma can be subject to other alterations,

some comparable to our Western accidental sharps and flats. Includ-

ing the change of the sa- to the ma-grâma the Saṃgîtaratnâkara men-

tions twelve possible changes in śruti allocation, though, as some of

them overlap, they work out to only seven in reality. Out of these

seven only two (the kâkalî ni and the antara ga) are in general use and

taken into consideration when making permutations and combina-

tions.

As in the classical texts the names of the notes are attached to the

last of the series of their constituent śrutis, the basic sa-grâma presents

itself as follows:

1 2 3 4, 5 6 7, 8 9, 10 11 12 13, 14 15 16 17, 18 19 20, 21 22

sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha, ni

It is evident that, as the notes were understood to be at the end of

their constituent śrutis, the loss of a śruti at the beginning of a note

was perceptible only by the fact that the note below it was raised one

śruti in pitch.

The alterations are:1

(i) Sa, having four śrutis, comes down from the fourth to the third

śruti, at the same time giving its first śruti to kaiśika-ni (see the

1 Joanny Grosset, ‘Inde’, in Lalignac, Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, i

(Paris, 1913), p. 289.

SR, i. 3. 41–47:

ta eva vikṛtâvasthā dvādaśa pratipāditāḥ

cyuto’cyuto dvidhā śadjo dviśrutivikṛto bhavet

ṣaḍhārane kākalitve niṣādasya ca dṛśyate

ṣaḍhārane śrutim sādjim ṛṣabhaḥ saṃśṛito yadā

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

209

eleventh alteration). Sa thus becomes a note of two śrutis. This is the first audibly altered note, cyuta (fallen) sa.

(ii) Sa remains on its proper, fourth, śruti, but has its two initial śrutis annexed by kākali-ni (see twelfth alteration). This sa is called acyuta (not-fallen) sa, and is not audible as an actually different note, as the position of the name-śruti is not changed.

(iii) Ri remains on its proper, seventh, śruti, but annexes sa's top-śruti. Sa thus becomes cyuta-sa (first alteration).

(iv) Ga shifts from its proper (ninth), to the tenth śruti, annexing the first śruti of ma and thus becoming a note of three śrutis. This is the second really new note, called sādhāraṇa (common) ga.

(v) Ga annexes one more śruti of ma, thus becoming a note of four śrutis. This is the third really new note, antara (medium) ga.

(vi) Ma comes down from its original (thirteenth) śruti to the twelfth, giving at the same time its first śruti to sādhāraṇa-ga and thus becoming a note of two śrutis. This is the fourth really new note, called cyuta (fallen) ma.

(vii) Ma remains on its original (thirteenth) śruti, but gives its first two śrutis to antara-ga. It is called acyuta-ma, analogous to acyuta-sa.

(viii) Pa cedes its upper śruti to dha (in the ma-grāma) and is called triśruti (three śruti) pa. This is the fifth really new note.

(ix) Pa gives its top śruti to dha, but annexes the top śruti of ma, which thereby becomes cyuta-ma. This pa is called kaiśika (fine as a hair) pa.

(x) Dha annexes the last śruti of pa, in the madhyama grāma, but remains on its original (twentieth) śruti. This is called vikrta (altered) dha.

(xi) Ni annexes the first śruti of sa. This is the sixth really new note, called kaiśika ni.

(xii) Ni takes the first two śrutis of sa. This is the seventh really new note, called kākali (soft) ni.

It will be seen that the alterations follow strictly parallel lines in the two tetrachords of the octave.

catuḥśrutitvam āyāti tadaiko vikṛto bhaved

sādhārane triśrutiḥ syād antarātve catuḥśrutīḥ

gāndhāra iti tadbhedau dvau niḥśankena kīrtitau

madhyamaḥ śadjavad vvedhā ‘ntarasādhāraṇāśrayāt

pañcamo madhyamagrāme triśrutiḥ kaiśike punah

madhyamasya śrutim prāpya catuḥśrutir iti dvidhā

dhaivato madhyamagrāme vikṛtaḥ syāc catuḥśrutīḥ

kaiśike kākalitve ca niṣādas tricatuḥśrutīḥ

prāpnoti vikṛtau bhedau dvāv iti dvādaśa smr tāḥ

B 2608

P

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Mûrcchanâs

The word grâma in its general sense means village or community.

In its musical sense1 it is defined as ‘a collection of notes and the dwelling place of the mûrcchanâs and their derivations’. Weber suggests in his Indische Streifen2 that the Greek word gamma in its musical sense of scale, is a derivation from the Sanskrit grâma, through some intermediate vernacular form. Certainly the modes in Greek music are derived from the basic scale very much as the mûrcchanâs are derived from the two grâmas. In the Indian theory each grâma gives rise to seven mûrcchanâs (extensions or gradations) by taking each successive note of the descending scale of the grâma in question as the basis of a new series of seven. Thus the first mûrcchanâ of the sa-grâma will be sa-ni, the second ni-dha, the third dha-pa, and so on, the seventh being ri-sa. It is expressly stated that the first mûrcchanâ of the sa-grâma starts on the middle sa, the first mûrcchanâ of the ma-grâma on the middle ma. It is clear that this procedure changes the relative position of tones and semitones within the octave in exactly the same way as does the Western method of building modes.

In each of the fourteen mûrcchanâs one can introduce either the kâkali-ni or the antara-ga or both kâkali and antara, which gives three possible variations to each basic pattern, adding up to fifty-six, i.e. four times fourteen, mûrcchanâs in all. Apart from these alterations, the Indian theory recognizes not only full, heptatonic (sampûrna) mûrcchanâs, but also hexatonic (ṣâḍava) and pentatonic (auḍava) varieties, each again with such alterations as the remaining notes allow. From this substratum the later modal system of râgas and râginîs could develop naturally.

Mûrcchanâs can be sung in their natural, diatonic order or in meandering sequences. In a detailed text like the Samgîtaratnâkara no possibility of combination or permutation is left unexplored. For the development of the modal system, however, only the basic heptatonic modes with their hexatonic and pentatonic varieties have to be considered, as it is from them that the classical system of râgas and râginîs was finally born.

Jâtis

There was, however, an intermediate stage in the development from mûrcchanâs to râgas, namely, the jâtis. Out of the fourteen mûrcchanâs

1 SR, i. 4. 1. SD, i. 68 :

grâmah svarasamûhah syân mûrcchanâdeh samâśrayah

tau dvau dharatale tatra syât ṣadjagrâma âdimah.

2 Albrecht Weber, Indische Streifen (Berlin, 1863), i. 3. 544.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

211

of the two grāmas only seven assumed the status of jāti or basic mode.

Four, those starting on sa, dha, ni, and ri were based on the corresponding mūrcchanās of the sa-grāma; three, starting from ma, ga, and pa, belonged to the magrāma. Contrary to the custom followed with the mūrcchanās, the sequence of the jātis is always given in ascending order: ṣādji is the first jāti, rṣabhi, not niṣādayati, the second.

In addition to the seven basic jātis, Bharata enumerates the names of eleven more, combinations of two or more of the first seven. Each jāti has its own ‘pillar notes’, incipient, final, and melodic centre, and some additional individual features, which stamp them clearly as the ancestors of the subsequent rāgas. In the Bharatanāṭyaśāstra the term rāga in its technical sense is yet unknown, but the rāgas incorporate all the melodic permutations and combinations of the older system to which numerous new characteristics have been added. For all its intricacies and delicate refinements, the classical system of rāgas has nothing intrinsically different from the Western modal system of the Middle Ages.

Pitch

One difference of approach to melodic structure in India and the West seems to be due to the fact that at a very early stage the Western systems fixed a definite pitch for each note, whereas everything in the Indian theory points to the fact that pitch was strictly relative and had no connexion with the names of the notes separately. The tendency to identify sa with c, very general in our days, cannot be much more than fifty years old and dates especially from the introduction and virulent spread of the portable harmonium through towns and villages.

The only indication as to pitch in the classical texts is1 in verses like the following, in which each successive note is identified with the cry of a bird or beast, not always the same creatures in each case.

The peacock utters the note sa;

the cātaka-bird ri;

the goat the note ga;

the krauñca bird ma;

the woodpecker with its clear voice pa;

the frog, excited by love, the note dha;

the elephant, hit on the head with the driver’s hook, utters the last note (ni) through its nose.

1 SR, i. 3. 48. SD, i. 152, 153:

ṣadjam vadati mayūrah ṛṣabhākhyam cātako brute

gāndhārākhyam chāgo nigadati pakṣi to madhyamam krauñcah

gadati pañcamam aiñcitavākapiko ratati dhaivatam unmādalarddurah

ṣṛṇisamāhatamastakakuñjaro gadati nāśikayā svaram antimam.

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THE MUSIC OF INDIA

Now, unless this has some, not immediately apparent, symbolical or mythological meaning, it has little meaning at all. For instance, the cry of the peacock consists of at least two notes which are certainly not even an octave apart; consequently it cannot stand for sa without further elucidation. In the same way anyone hearing the confusion of different noises emerging from a herd of goats would be sorely pressed if he had to determine the fixed pitch of ga.

The current practice—and there is no evidence that things were materially different in former days—is, that a singer chooses his sa according to his convenience, and keeps to it for the duration of the whole performance, irrespective of the number of râgas he presents. The same is the case with instrumentalists. A change of sa would entail a very laborious retuning of the accompanying drums, one of which usually gives the sa, the other the ma or pa. When more than one musician performs at the same function, each generally has his own drummer, or at least his own set of drums, which are tuned to the sa he has chosen.

Râgas

Clearly this is all that is required in a purely modal system. It is always this relative position of tones and semitones measured against a certain fixed point which determines the character of a mode, whether in the West or in the East, and the râgas—as the jâtis before them—have certain salient points of the scale which serve as a skeleton for their individual structure. These points bear the name of graha, amśa, and nyâsa:1

Graha is the incipient note, ‘the note that is placed at the beginning of a song’.

Amśa is the melodic centre, ‘the note that occurs often in the course of a performance’.

Nyâsa is the final, ‘the note that finishes a song’.

In the performance of a mode, whether a jâti or a râga, the first thing necessary is to establish these three sufficiently clearly, and in the lists of râgas in the textbooks, the notes of the scale that have these functions are always clearly given. It not infrequently happens that one note assumes two or even all three functions, so that the same note is graha, amśa, and nyâsa.

1 SR, i. 7. 30, 33, 38. SD, i. 146, 147 :

gîtâdau sthâpito yas tu sa grahasvara ucyate

nyâsaḥ svaras tu vijñeyo yas tu gîtasamâpakaḥ

(146)

bahulatvam prayogeṣu sa amśasvara ucyate

(147)

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

213

It is customary to preface the performance of a râga—as it must have been with the jâtis before—with a prelude, called âlâpa, in which, against the note chosen for the function of sa, the salient points are established, as well as the secondary features, such as hexa- or pentatonality, frequency or paucity of certain notes or intervals, high, middle, or low tessitura, and so on.

It is the combination of all these secondary characteristics that makes a râga into something more than a simple mode, and gives it the quality expressed in the word râga as compared with jâti. The latter means simply genus, the former, however, from the root rañj (to colour), means everything which that root suggests: colour, emotion, and atmosphere. A râga is a mode which has developed such a special ethos that it cannot be mistaken for another combination of notes expressing a different emotion.1 Two râgas can be based on the same basic mode or jâti, and yet be entirely different in the mood that they convey. There can be several reasons for this effect; for instance, if the first has its amśa—the centre of musical gravity—near the drone, while in the second it soars far away from it, the first will create an atmosphere of sadness and depression, the second one of exuberance.

In this way the variations, permutations, and combinations are endless, especially when existing râgas are combined to form new, composite ones, partaking of the characteristics of two or even more components. In the classical râga system such a new creation usually bears the name of its parents, as, for instance, Megh-Malhâr, Gauḍ-Sarang, Mâlava-Kauśika, or Sindhu-Bhairavi. This tendency is traceable to the oldest times on record. Bharata mentions the phenomenon of jâti-sâdhâraṇa (community of jâtis) in which one jâti partakes of the notes of the other. One also can link up râgas by a process comparable to modulation, starting in one râga and skilfully introducing—after a suitable lapse of time—characteristics belonging to another, thus weaving what is called a râgamâlâ (garland of râgas). At a performance by a famous artist the listeners, that is to say those who have the intimate knowledge of the râgas performed, without which the refinements and variations of the presentation of the known features cannot be properly appreciated, will be startled and surprised the moment a foreign element is introduced and approve only when this leads towards the shape, feelings, and emotions of the next râga.

In the later stages of development of the classical system, that is to say, mainly after the influx of Muslim culture, which set the

1 Songs in the ‘pathetic’ râga Todi and the ‘devotional’ south Indian râga Begada are recorded in The History of Music in Sound (H.M.V.), i, side 12.

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seal on the differentiation between the music of north and south

India, we find a tendency in the north to carry the specialization so

far that the musical shape gives rise to a physical shape. The Râgas

are depicted as divine or human beings in surroundings that suggest

the atmosphere they create. The gender, râga and râginî, masculine

and feminine, had been established at a fairly early date; connexions

with times of day and night and seasons of the year are also enumer-

ated in the older classical texts, both in north and south India, but the

paintings, the last possible stage in personification, belong to the

north. Thus, for instance, the râga Megha (cloud) is described as

follows in the Sangîtadarpaṇa:1

Megha is heptatonic, having dha in the three functions of graha, aṃśa,

and nyâsa, in the mûrcchanâ uttarâyatâ (the third of the sa-grâma), to be

sung with the altered (vikrta) dha. A gush of erotic sentiment.

Râga Megha, the Youth, having a body like the blue lotus, with garments

like the moon, dressed in yellow, implored by thirsty câtaka-birds (who

drink only raindrops), with a smile sweet as nectar, is resplendent among

heroes, in the midst of clouds.

Only the north Indian system bases its classification on the gender

of the râgas. Usually one finds six râgas with five wives—râginî—

making a total of thirty-six, with innumerable offshoots classified as

children. It is a system that gives room to unbridled flights of fancy in

which no measure of uniformity between the different local traditions

has been achieved.

Side by side with it we find, however, the system of dividing the

râgas and râginîs into thaṭs or groups, more or less along the lines

of the different original basic modes, the jâtis of the Nâtyaśâstra. A

thaṭ groups together those râgas and râginîs which have a similar

construction. The word2 originally applied to the arrangement of the

movable frets of a stringed instrument such as the setar, for the play-

ing of one chosen mode, which of course included several râgas. One

generally recognizes ten thaṭs.

This second and less universal north Indian system, which, how-

ever, has gained a much wider popularity with the spread of music-

teaching in schools and colleges, is of a later date than the more

1 SD, ii. 108, 109:

meghaḥ pūrṇo dhatrayaḥ syād uttarāyatamūrchanā vikrtadhaivato geyaḥ śṛngārarasa-

pūrakaḥ

nīlotpalābhavapur indusamānacailah pītāmbaras trṣitacātakayācyamānaḥ

(108)

pīyūṣamandahasito ghanamadhyavartī vireṣu rājati yuvā kila megharāgaḥ

(109)

2 Fox Strangways, op. cit., p. 106.

PLATE VII

(a)

(a) INDIAN VÎNÂ PLAYER

For further details see page xv.

(b) A BURMESE ORCHESTRA, SAING TYPE

For details of instruments see page xv.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

215

fantastic male râgas with five wives each, as shown by its name (taken

from the technique of an instrument imported from Persia). All the

same it has striking affinities with the universal south Indian system,

that of the melakartas which may be said to be a modified continua-

tion of the ancient arrangement in jâtis.

Melakartas, of which there are seventy-two, are divided into two

exactly parallel groups of thirty-six each, identical but for the cir-

cumstance that the first group uses natural fourths, the second aug-

mented fourths from sa. The râgas follow one another according to

their gradually increasing number of accidentals in the two tetra-

chords. The names are arranged according to a definite plan, so that

anyone who knows the codeword can tell at once which notes have

to be sung in a particular râga and also what place the râga occupies

in the melakarta scheme.

North and south use different names.1 The thap based on notes

corresponding to our major mode is called Bilâval in the north and

is the melakarta ‘Sankarâbharana’ in the south. The north Indian

Bhairavî that (our medieval Phrygian mode) is Hanumantodi in the

south, and so on. On the other hand, one finds that identical names,

such as Hindola, denote different râgas in north and south. All the

same, there is no basic difference between the two systems; one may

regard them as two dialects of the same language. Generally speaking,

the classifications as well as the system of south India as a whole are

more logical and bespeak a more mathematical intellect than the

pronouncedly emotional northern traditions.

As mentioned above, accomplished musicians establish the ethos

of the râga they are going to perform in the âlâpa. This unaccom-

panied prelude in free time may last for an hour or more. Each detail

of the râga that is being presented is minutely illustrated from all

possible angles. The accompanying drum comes in fully only when the

actual composition begins. In general a complete composition con-

sists of the following four divisions: asthai (the theme), antara (the

second subject), sañcâri (development), and âbhog (coda) which may

be replaced by a return to the asthai. The corresponding south Indian

divisions are pallavi, anupallavi, caranam, and pallavi.

For teaching in schools, the râgas are somewhat simplified and

instead of the improvised âlâpa, the children are taught a short song

which incorporates all the characteristics of the râga in question, as,

for instance, the following song, meant to illustrate the pentatonic

(audava) râga called Bhûp or Bhûpkalin (Ex. 293).

1 Fox Strangways, op. cit., p. 139, footnote.

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THE MUSIC OF INDIA

Ex. 293

Râga Bhûpkalin

In this song ga, the third note of the scale, quite clearly has the functions of graha, amsa, and nyâsa. According to Fox Strangways1 this represents the Poona tradition, as Bhûpkalin when sung according to the tradition of Gwalior has ri, the second note of the scale, in these functions. Ma, the fourth note, and ni, the seventh note, are missing, but the former is touched on once in the first bar, which is permissible. The way in which phrases have to be constructed in this râga is exemplified as succinctly as possible. Such an example differs from an âlâpa in two aspects: it has time (tâla) and it has words. The words, in this case, are a reminder of the real function of music. They say:

Oh Sádhu (wise man), notes open the realm of Heaven.

This râga is pentatonic according to the laws of music: —sa, re, ga, pa, dha, sa, dha, pa, ga, re, sa—. The notes can be sung in a topsy-turvey way, can’t they?

Tâlas

As for the time (tâla) of Ex. 293, this is one of the irregular time-divisions of Indian music, the time of ten, consisting of 4+2+4 beats, the strong beats being one, five, and seven. Consequently this is not a doubling of quintuple time, which also occurs and consists most commonly of 3+2 beats, though sometimes we find 2+3.

1 Fox Strangways, op. cit., chart facing p. 151.

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

217

Ex. 294

(a)

3 + 2 (Tagore)

je dhru-vö pö-dö di-ye-cho ba - -ndhi

(b)

2 + 3 (Tagore)

prö ti - di - no a - mi.

Just as the time of ten is not composed of twice five, so the time of fourteen does not consist of twice seven. The time of seven is composed of 3+2+2, that of fourteen may be 4+4+2+4.

Ex. 295

(a)

3 + 2 + 2 (Kirtan)

pe - khö - lun 'sya mo - ru

dam go pe - kho - lun syam

Kaṭadōshkhushi (Kirtan)

(b)

bha - lo - hi cha n - do - no

bin - du bha - lo - hi cha

Both these examples are taken from the Kirtan music of Bengal, the devotional music of the Vaishnavas. This time of fourteen bears the name of kaṭa-dōshkhushi (the small dōshkhushi) and, as the name leads us to expect, we find also a madhyam (middle) and a bŏṛŏ (large) dōshkhushi. The madhyam-dōshkhushi consists of twice a kaṭa-dōsh-khushi and has twenty-eight units in a period. The accents in the second half are an exact replica of those in the kaṭa-dōshkhushi: 1 2 3 4, 5 6 7 8, 9 10, 11 12 13 14, 15 16 17 18, 19 20 21 22, 23 24, 25 26 27 28. The bŏrōdōshkhushi is again the madhyam dōshkhushi taken twice and consists consequently of fifty-six units. Both derive the right to be called separate tālas from the fact that their whole length is occupied by one musical phrase. The conception is the full period, not the component parts. Bar lines would give an entirely wrong emphasis.

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Such long periods give an ideal scope for interplay between drum and solo instrument, each making its own variations on the underlying rhythmical scheme and both landing triumphantly together on the first beat of the next period which is therefore called sam (together). This contest is followed with breathless attention and suspense by a well-trained audience, who heave a sigh of satisfaction when the tension is over. This enjoyment presupposes an extraordinarily well-developed sense of rhythm and a passion for cross-rhythm which seem to be inborn. Even quite small children are observed beating intricate rhythmic patterns when they get hold of an empty tin or anything that gives sound when beaten. On the other hand, keeping time as we feel it, progressing from stressed beat to stressed beat, seems to be difficult for Indians; one often sees boy scouts being drilled to march in step, but even when marking time they invariably lose the regular swing very soon.

The classical system of tālas embodies both the regular and the irregular times. As a matter of fact, the system is based on the binary principle. The smallest recognized duration in musical time is the anu-druta. Two anu-drutas make a druta. Two drutas make a laghu. Two laghus make a guru, but three laghus a pluta. The laghu is taken as time-unit and is also called mātra or mātrikā (measure).

The pluta1 is said to embody the Hindu Trinity with Brahma presiding. Thus the system embodies the ternary as well as the binary principle. This fact is further borne out by the inclusion of the virāma (rest) in the scheme of calculations. The virāma adds half the value to the note again. The complete list of time-values is thus sevenfold: the anudruta, the druta, the druta with virāma (three anudrutās), the laghu, the laghu with virāma (three drutās), the guru and the pluta (which is equal to the guru with virāma or three laghus).

This system has been preserved almost intact in south India, where it forms the mathematical basis of the current system of music. From the exposition given by Professor Sambamoorthy of the University of Madras,2 it appears that the unit is the anudruta and no longer the laghu. This anudruta equals the time-duration of a hand-clap. The druta consists of a hand-clap and a sideward movement of the right hand. The laghu consists of a hand-clap and two or more finger counts (i.e. putting the thumb against the different fingers). The laghu varies in duration according to whether it consists of a clap and two or more than two finger-counts, but in one and the same tāla not more than

1 SR, v. 258a. SD, vi. 50b: dipte trayo virincyādyā devatāḥ munibhiḥ smr̥tāḥ.

2 P. Sambamoorthy, The Musical Time Chart (Madras, n.d.).

THE CLASSICAL SYSTEM

219

one species of laghu may occur. Five different kinds of laghu occur, equalling 3, 4, 5, 7, and 9 units, in other words, a clap with two, three, four, six, or eight finger-counts. It appears that the fifth category is not in very frequent use.

The terms guru and pluta seem to have fallen out of use. With the remaining anudruta, druta, and laghu seven principal tālas are constructed:

1. Eka, consisting of one laghu.

2. Rūpaka, consisting of a druta and a laghu.

3. Jampa, consisting of a laghu, an anudruta, and a druta.

4. Maṭya, consisting of a laghu, a druta, and a laghu.

5. Tripuṭa, consisting of a laghu and two drutas.

6. Aṭa, consisting of two laghus and two drutas.

7. Dhruva, consisting of a laghu, a druta, and two laghus.

Owing to the five different values which a laghu can have, these seven basic tālas immediately grow to a set of thirty-five principal tālas. The basic tāla, called Eka, consisting of one laghu only, can thus represent the times of three, four, five, seven, and nine units to a bar. The first variety of the basic tāla called Dhruva, consisting of a laghu, a druta, and two laghus, gives a total of eleven units to the bar, 3 + 2 + 3 + 3. The second variety of the same basic Dhruva gives fourteen units, 4 + 2 + 4 + 4, a general scheme not very different from the above quoted kaṭadōshkhushi of Bengal.

The time of ten of Ex. 293 would be defined as the second variety of Maṭya. As a matter of fact, the north and south Indian system of tālas again differ not in kind but in degree, the southern system having drawn the logical consequences of the underlying principles in a much more consistent fashion.

It is clear that this system of musical time has its roots in prosody. None of the irregular times could have sprung up independently of the recitation of poetical metres. Seen in this connexion they present no difficulty. An instance is provided by the Buddhist metre Buddha-priya of nineteen syllables, in which, contrary to the strict classical Sanskrit rules for metres of this class, one long may be dissolved occasionally into two short syllables, and even one short syllable into two ultra shorts:

– υ – υ υ / – υ – υ υ / υ υ υ – υ υ – υ – /

– υ – υ υ / υ υ υ – υ υ / – υ – – υ – /

If this metre is recited with a short note to a short, and a long note to a long syllable, with a lengthening of the last syllable of the line

220

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

in accordance with the general custom, we see that the time of seven emerges naturally.

Ex. 296

Considering the intimate connexion of the classical theory with the system of Vedic chanting, and the prevalent custom of never reciting but always chanting poetry, the influence of the metres on the formation of musical times is hardly surprising.

There is little doubt, however, that influences from popular customs, for instance ordinary dances and working songs which demand a strong and regular beat, have also contributed to the actual development of tálas. Sometimes perhaps the musical tradition of invaders has made its contribution as well. Fox Strangways attributes the incidence of the lilting 6/8 time, called dâdra, in the north of India, to Muslim influences1.

In any case it would be surprising, in a country like India where drumming is so ancient and has reached such an astonishing degree of perfection, if there had not been a strong contribution from the purely instrumental side to the system of musical times, quite independently of, and side by side with, the pronounced vocal and literary bias expressed in the official formulation of the system in the classical texts.

CLASSICAL INSTRUMENTS

That instrumental music as a whole retains its character of a secondary art—at least in theory—in spite of the flowering of a very distinct and elaborate solo instrumental style, is proved by the defini-

1 Fox Strangways, op. cit., p. 300.

CLASSICAL INSTRUMENTS

221

tion given as late as the seventeenth century in Saṃgītadarpana:1

'lending charm to both vocal music and dance.' At that time instru-

mental technique was actually at its zenith, and already for centuries

before that the voice must have been striving to imitate the intricacy

and speed of ornaments devised for solo instruments like the vīṇā. The

treatment of the voice in modern days is first and foremost a purely

instrumental one. In several of the most applauded styles the agelong

connexion between word and melody has been greatly weakened and

replaced by a show of instrumental agility in which words have no

importance, or hardly any, but which for perfection of speed, neat-

ness, and precision of intonation has perhaps no equal anywhere in the

world.

The Indian texts divide the instruments into four classes: ghana,

avanaddha, suṣira, and tata.

Idiophones (Ghana)

Under the first heading fall the percussion instruments which we

call idiophones: vibrating pieces of metal, like cymbals, which are

beaten together to produce sound. Ghana means body, according to

the texts,2 but it also can mean iron and pewter and anything com-

pact. Its mental association with the root han (to strike) probably

plays its part in the denomination of this class, but it is not mentioned

by way of explanation.

These instruments must have existed in a variety of shapes and

forms at a very early date. Even nowadays they have a strong con-

nexion with religion, being employed at religious ceremonies and

during processions on account of their spiritually purifying proper-

ties. Purely musically, they have no great value although they can

have a very important rhythmical function in supporting and accen-

tuating the development of figurations on the drum, whether played

solo or as an accompanying instrument. In Kathiawar the playing of

cymbals has developed into a separate art requiring great technical

skill.

Drums (Avanaddha)

The drums are grouped together under the heading avanaddha:

instruments which have their openings covered with stretched hides.3

This class is also very old and comprises a very great number of

1 SD, v. 1: vādyam nirūpyate gītaṛtayor anurañjakam.

2 SD, v. 4b: ghano mūrtiḥ.

3 SD, v. 3a, 4b: carmāvanaddhamvadanam vādyate paṅahādikam

avanaddham ca tat proktam.

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THE MUSIC OF INDIA

different forms. Anything in India may on occasion serve as a drum,

from an earthenware pitcher to a carefully tuned pair of drums like

the tabla, used for court-performances, or the large metal battle-

drums placed on the back of an elephant or a camel to lead troops

in battle or to head processions. The last mentioned kind is beaten

with sticks, but drums in India are generally played with the fingers

and parts of the palms of the hand with such delicacy and skill that it is a

joy to listen to a solo performance. In all its refinement the technique

takes years of strenuous practice to master. The different strokes of

the right and left hand are defined and named, and the combinations

and variations of the right- and left-hand strokes, together and separ-

ately, give an almost unlimited scope to the artist, especially within

the long phrases which the more intricate tālas present.

Prominent in our days are the pakhawaj and the tabla. The former

is a descendant of the classical mrdanga, still its present south Indian

name, and has a clay body of irregular cylindrical shape, tapering

slightly towards the left hand, with a large surface of parchment tuned

to the note chosen as a drone for the performance. It tapers much

more markedly towards the right hand, with a smaller stretch of parch-

ment, tuned to the fourth or fifth above the drone. The tuning is very

accurate and is effected by tightening or loosening the leather straps

which hold the parchment in place.

Even more prominent perhaps is the tabla, a pair of drums, really

the pakhawaj divided into two. The drum played by the left hand is

made of metal (brass) and is semi-spherical. The drum for the right

hand is made of wood and is cylindrical, only the top being open and

covered with parchment. The tuning, regulated by blocks between

the leather straps that keep the parchment in place, is the same as that

of the pakhawaj and carefully and painstakingly adhered to. In this

way the drums provide not only the rhythmical backbone of the per-

formance, but also a firm basis on which the singer can rely for his

pitch, and against which he can build his contrasts.

Considering the variety of indigenous drums, one would not sup-

pose that there was any need for importation; nevertheless names like

naqqârah and even tabla point in that direction, as they are of Arabic

origin.

Wind Instruments (Suṣira)

Among the suṣira (wind instruments), too, we find autochthonous

as well as foreign species. The different kinds of bamboo flutes cer-

tainly belong to India from time immemorial and also the snake-

CLASSICAL INSTRUMENTS

223

charmers' pipes, based on the principle of the bagpipes and, most probably, some kinds of real bagpipes such as are found in Kashmir.

The conch also, which plays an important part in the majority of religious ceremonies and on all auspicious occasions as well, very likely belongs to the country and travelled from there into Buddhist lands such as Tibet, where it serves the same important religious ends.

Among the imported wind-instruments we may count the different varieties of the oboe class, such as the shannai (surnahi) which spread from the Near East across continents and to the far islands of the Indonesian archipelago.

In this class only the flute—apart from the conch—has definite religious associations, being the beloved instrument of Krishna.

There are numerous varieties of metal horns and trumpets, such as the sringa (horn) and sarpa (snake).

In modern times the clarinet has been introduced and is played happily in Indian style, to which it lends itself extremely well.

Stringed Instruments (Tata)

The fourth class, tata (stringed instruments) from the root tan (to stretch), again provides a great variety of indigenous and imported species.

The most revered of all is the vînâ, a fretted plucked instrument.

In its most primitive form the vînâ consists of a hollow bamboo stave with a gourd attached to the underside at both ends.

The strings run parallel to the body on the upper side, passing across very high frets fixed to the body with wax.

They are attached to the tuning pegs at one end and to a fixed tailpiece at the other.

It is played either resting on the ground on its gourds, or held upright against the body, the upper gourd resting on the left shoulder.

In another form of vînâ, popular in south India, the lower gourd has coalesced with the bamboo stave, which now rises out of it; the second gourd is loosely attached to the top near the tuning pegs.

The frets are fixed in this form, too.

The playing is usually done with a triangular plectrum of silver or steel wire slipped over the nail of the index finger of the right hand.

The melody is played on the four chief strings.

Three more strings run along the right side, tuned to the drone, the fifth (or fourth) and the octave respectively, and are struck intermittently with the other fingers of the right hand to provide the accompaniment.

This instrument is capable of giving a wide variety of tone-colour, but its quality is extremely delicate and intimate, so that it is best enjoyed in a small room in which the finely spun ornamentation does not get lost in space.

One way of creating these ornaments is to pull the string sideways with the fingers of the left hand after it has been

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THE MUSIC OF INDIA

vigorously struck, and thus to vary the tension, producing various

śrutis as long as the vibration lasts.

The vînâ is one of the constant attributes of the Goddess of Learn-

ing, Sarasvatî, and in olden times it was one of the indispensable

objects in a decent home for the welcome of a guest.1 In the course

of history the vînâ has had many forms, and it is not at all certain

that the vînâ of the centuries B.C. looked like the vînâ of our days. It

seems probable that vînâ was originally a generic name for stringed

instruments; from ancient sculptures it is certain that a form existed

with a boat-shaped body from which an arched neck stuck out, look-

ing very much like the Egyptian harp. That form has now completely

disappeared, but kindred forms had until recently survived in Burma.

In the texts we find mention of vînâs with one, two, three, seven, nine,

and twenty-one strings. (See pl. 7 (b).)

The kinnarî has three gourds, one in the middle, fixed sideways.

The tambura has only one gourd, incorporated in the body, and has

four strings but no frets. It is always played with open strings as an

accompaniment, either by the singer himself or by one or two assis-

tants immediately behind him. The tuning is the drone, the fifth

(or fourth) and twice the octave, and the strings are sounded

uninterruptedly to create an unchanging background for the chosen

râga.

Another favourite plucked instrument is the setar, of Persian

origin. It has movable frets which can be adjusted to the varying

arrangements of notes within the octave according to thât. It has a

layer of sympathetic strings tuned to the notes of the octave, vibrating

in consonance with the notes struck on the main strings, which gives

a pleasant diffuse echo-effect. The technique of the setar has great

affinity with that of the vînâ.

The sarod, played with a plectrum held between the fingers, has no

frets. It has a balalaika-like tone-quality and a greater carrying power

than most Indian instruments.

A bowed instrument is the sarangi, an instrument with a most pleas-

ing tone-quality and good carrying power, but not in great social

favour on account of its association with dancing-girls, in our days

not a socially acceptable class. A peculiar legato quality is achieved

on this instrument by pressing the nails of the left hand against the

1 Mahâbhârata Udyogaparvan, 40, 10-11;

ajokṣā candanāṁ vīnā adarśo madhusarpiṣṭ

viṣam audumbarāṁ śaṅkhaḥ svarnanabho gorocanā

(10)

śreṣṭhāpayitavyāni dhanyāni manur abravīt

devabrāhmaṇapūjārtham atithīnāṁ ca Bhārata.

(11)

CLASSICAL INSTRUMENTS

225

melody string—not the tip of the finger on it—and sliding them along

the string to the next note.1 The dilruba and the esraj—almost

identical in appearance and technique—are two more bowed in-

struments, each with a layer of sympathetic strings. Both are socially

acceptable, and both are of Persian origin.

In the villages there is a kind of very primitive small violin, made

of half a coconut-shell with a bamboo neck attached to it, and played

with a very arched bow. Skilled players extract a plaintive, but not

at all unpleasant, sound from this toy. The European violin has been

adopted with enthusiasm and serves its new masters very well, since

it has a much more powerful tone than any of the indigenous instru-

ments and is capable of producing all the refined shades of intonation

essential to proper Indian music. It is so much at home in India now

that it is counted as their own by many Indian musicians, especially

in the south.

Unfortunately the Hawaiian guitar has also made its appearance

and makes a powerful appeal, probably through its excessive slurring

power, a continuous tone always being sought after in Indian music.

Unmitigated harm has been done to Indian music by the introduc-

tion, probably through missionaries, of a miniature form of portable

harmonium which, by its fixed keyboard and haphazard tuning—

earnest but not altogether successful attempts at the European tem-

pered scale—plays havoc with the delicate tonal differences essential

to the system of rāgas and rāginīs and with the accurate aural percep-

tion of the Indian musician. The cheapness and the ease with which

one can master its technique—up to a point—have added to its

dissemination. It can be found in the most isolated and otherwise

unspoiled villages. It is mass-produced in India itself, and it seems

unlikely now that the evil can ever be eradicated.

MODERN DEVELOPMENTS

Indian music is passing through a critical period. The impact of the

West has shaken its foundations more drastically than foreign in-

fluences have ever done before. Mistaken attempts to foist the finished

Western system of harmony on to the perfect modal system of Indian

monophony have been made for the last hundred years, not only by

missionaries but also by enthusiastic Indian admirers of European

culture. In this process the delicate structure of Indian music is

crushed out of existence. Lately the music of the films, and jazz

with its coarse appeal, have not beckoned in vain.

1 A specimen of sarangi music is recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i,

side 12.

B 3608

Q

226

THE MUSIC OF INDIA

In this unfortunate development the radio plays an important part, but it also gives the champions of the severe classical style an opportunity to reach the ears of a great many more people than would have had the opportunity to hear this music in olden days. The medieval attitude of a master teaching only a few chosen pupils and not divulging his best to the uninitiated is still strong. Music for the masses is a very recent trend, and music teaching now tends to move away from the intimate teacher-pupil connexion towards class-teaching in schools and colleges. A certain amount of standardization has been unavoidable in the course of this development. Eminent men such as the late Pandit Bhatkhande—a Mahratta by birth but with enormous influence over the whole of north India, and founder of the Marris College of Music of the University of Lucknow—have striven to find a common denominator of the different current traditions of rāgas and rāginīs and fix them by means of notation, which had not been done systematically in the past. Yet the basis of the present system of notation is very ancient. It is a tonic sol-fa system in which the names of the notes, sa and so on, are used to indicate the melodic line with its time divisions.

This is a very strongly supported movement strengthened also by the growth of nationalistic feeling. But new developments, breaking away from the traditional system, are not lacking. The very perfection of that system precluded further development, and adventurous spirits have had to look for new avenues for their creative impulses. They have but rarely understood that the new developments must have their roots in Indian music itself to be viable, yet there are indications that that understanding is dawning. After a period of Western influence, Rabindranath Tagore turned to the folk-melodies of Bengal for inspiration, and all over India isolated poets and musicians are drawing their strength from the music of the people, often with very felicitous results. For Indian folk-music, which ranges from the primitive two-note sing-song of the Chencus of the jungles of Hyderabad to the stirring war-ballads of the bards of Rajputana and the mystical longing of the princess-saint Mirabai, is an expression of the whole life of the people, with their joys and sorrows. It is the depository of their traditional wisdom and their religious yearnings as well as of the pleasures and pastimes of everyday life.1 Side by side with this hopeful trend of a group of poet-musicians to get their inspiration from folk-music, classical musicians are

1 Six examples of Indian folk-music are recorded in The History of Music in Sound, i, sides 10 and 11.

feeling their way to a widening of tonal expression along polyphonic lines, but starting from Indian premises. There is nothing in the Indian system which would prevent a natural development in that direction, provided that the impulses spring not from intellectual curiosity, but from inner necessity.

V

THE MUSIC OF ANCIENT MESOPOTAMIA

By Henry George Farmer

INTRODUCTION

So far as our present knowledge goes, the earliest civilization was that

of Mesopotamia, where an amazingly advanced stage of society existed

in the fourth millennium B.C. at the very latest. The centre of this cul-

tural elevation was in southern Mesopotamia, a land often called

Babylonia, between 30° and 34° north latitude. In the upper part of

this land, later called Akkad, was a linguistically Semitic group, while

in the lower part there may have been other Semites. Before 4000 B.C.

the latter were supplanted by a people called Sumerians, who spoke

a non-Semitic tongue so strange that we cannot even say from whence

they came. Their land was known as Sumer. The culture of the new-

comers is generally considered to have been far in advance of that of

the land of their adoption, so much so that it soon influenced both

Akkad in the north and contiguous territories. In spite of this, it

seems unwise to refer to the people of either Sumer or Akkad, per se,

as the creators or stabilizers of this culture, since we know little or

nothing of the earlier history of either.

If we view the movement of history in the light of the conditions

which increase men's knowledge, it seems that the most potent results

are to be found where the greatest number of culture-contacts meet.

For this reason, it is of Mesopotamian civilization that we speak,

rather than of Sumerian or Akkadian. Thus we are compelled to look

beyond strictly geographical limits in our survey of Mesopotamian

music of the distant past, for indeed all peoples on what Breasted

calls 'the fertile crescent' and its periphery must come within this

purview, because it was by reason of admixture of stock, contrasts in

habits, diversities in religion, and even friction of interests, that cross-

fertilizations of ideas were produced, which made the supreme great-

ness and vitality of Mesopotamian civilization possible.

Nowadays, when scarcely a month passes without some fresh

archaeological discovery, or a new philological deduction being regis-

tered, it is difficult to speak with any chronological certainty. That

being so, many of the early dates that will be posited in what follows

must be considered simply as helpful stepping-stones, placed temporarily to accommodate the eye and mind in their stride across the stream of history, until a more durable bridge has been erected. The readjustments so ably determined and summarized by Albright1 have persuaded us, with some latitude, to draw up the following table which enables the reader to appreciate why certain dates do not synchronize with those of Dr. Curt Sachs and the late Canon F. W. Galpin who have contributed so much to our knowledge of the music of the peoples of the Mesopotamian past.

Fifth Millennium B.C.

The Sumerians in Babylonia

Fourth Millennium B.C.

Al-‘Ubaid, Warka, and Jamdat Nasr periods

Third Millennium B.C.

Early Dynasty I . . . . Twenty-eighth century

Royal Tombs of Ur. . . . Twenty-fifth century

Akkad Dynasty . . . c. 2360–2180

Guti Dynasty . . . c. 2190–2065

Ur Dynasty III . . . c. 2070–1960

Second Millennium B.C.

Babylonian Dynasty I . . c. 1830

Babylonian Dynasty II (Sea Kings) . c. 1675

Babylonian Dynasty III (Kassites) . c. 1600

Assyrian Hegemony (Shalmaneser I) . c. 1270–606

First Millennium B.C.

Chaldaean Dynasty . . . 626

Achaemenid Dynasty . . . 538–331

Seleucid Dynasty . . . 312–65

THE PRIMITIVE ELEMENT IN MUSIC

What first presents itself in early Mesopotamia is a well-established culture already far advanced, the more glittering features of which have the appearance of an origin elsewhere. Although the older literature of Sumer, such as the Gilgamesh Epic, offers vague hints

1 Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, nos. 77, 78 (1940), 88 (1942).

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THE MUSIC OF ANCIENT MESOPOTAMIA

of what an earlier culture may have been, we are not able to experience so interesting a panorama as the gradual passage from that community of reed huts at Ur to the civitas. There is, however, abundant evidence of the survival of primitive culture in Mesopotamian civilization, not merely at the dawn of history in this land at the turn of the fifth millennium B.C., but even down to the Christian era.

When we observe that Assyrian bells are embossed with symbols of Ea, the divine Patron of Music, it may be assumed that it is a relic of the animistic past.1 The skin head of the Babylonian drum (balag) was made from the hide of a bull, and as late as the Seleucid era (312 B.C.) the Temple of Ea (Lumḫa) was the place of an elaborate ritual at the fixing of the skin head on this sacred instrument.2 The image of a bull was also a prominent feature on the sound-chest of the grand kithara (? algar),3 so that its resonance would be amplified in mind if not in ears. Like those animals who play instruments in Mesopotamian art remains,4 and those gods, kings, priests, and mummers, dressed in animal or fish-like garb, they recall earlier totemistic conceits.5 Yet we must not interpret these semeio-lineaments wholly by this cause, since there must have existed a purely naturalistic raison d'être sometimes. There are two or three well-known art remains which show animals listening to, or in the presence of, music, in what might readily be considered bucolic scenes.6 The Mesopotamian psalms and lamentations continually voice complaint against the gods for searing and flooding the land, for the thoughts of the people were ever with their herds and harvests,7 and they considered the bull in the animal world and the reed in the vegetable world as antithetical. Their psalms tell of strength in the ‘gigantic steer’ and weakness in the ‘crouching reed’. This symbolism of puissance and docility, force and persuasion, was reflected in the deafening roar of the drum (i.e. the bull) and in the plaintive sigh of the pipe (i.e. the reed), for they were the ‘outward visible sign’ of an ‘inward spiritual grace’. Being a highly imaginative people they resorted to symbolism in many ways, but none is more intriguing than their use

1 M. Jastrow, Bildermappe zur Religion Babyloniens und Assyriens (Giessen, 1912), fig. 70.

2 Revue d'Assyriologie, xvi (1919), pp. 145 ff.

3 F. W. Galpin, The Music of the Sumerians and their immediate successors the Babylonians and Assyrians (Cambridge, 1937), pl. vii.

4 Ibid., pls. iv, v, vii, viii.

5 C. J. Gadd, History and Monuments of Ur (London, 1929), pp. 36 ff.

6 Galpin, op. cit., pls. ii, 2; iv, 1; viii, 6, 7.

7 S. Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies (Paris, 1913), pp. 1 ff.

THE PRIMITIVE ELEMENT IN MUSIC 231

of sound for this purpose, as Heuzey,1 King,2 and Thureau-Dangin3

have observed.

A close connexion between gods and music in Mesopotamia is

significant. One of the most ancient of the gods, Ea, the ruler of the

deep, had his name written with a sign which stood for drum (balag),4

the dread sound of which was the personification of his essence. Then

there was Ramman, who commanded the thunder and the winds. He

was conceived as the 'spirit of sonorous voice',5 which was in keeping

with the ancestor of Thor, although it was probably because of its

wind-like tone that the reed-pipe (halhallatu) was likened to his

breath.6 One of the names of the goddess Ishtar, the virgin mother,

was 'the soft reed-pipe', and her partner, Tammuz, was the 'god of

the tender voice',7 while the name 'singer' (zammēru) was given to

another of the immortals.8 It is such fantasies, 'nothing but vain'

perhaps, in which sound, as the anima of all phenomena, was used

to adjure and conjure benevolent and malevolent nature, that were

the foundation upon which the later elaborate temple services of

Mesopotamia were built.

THE MUSIC OF THE TEMPLES

All the cities of the Mesopotamian plains had their temples in the

fourth millennium B.C. Within their sacred precincts were worshipped

the many gods of their pantheons. Here, priests and liturgists, mathe-

maticians and astrologers, passed their lives in quiet seclusion,9 for

the temple was the centre of the intellectual and cultural life of the

day.10 First among the liturgists was the precentor, known in Sumerian

as the gala (Akkadian kalū). Unlike the priest, he was not a con-

secrated functionary, although it was his duty to intone the liturgic

cantillation.11 There seem to have been three classes of precentor in

the Sumerian period, the higher, intermediate, and lower, the last

being counted in a menial grade. That many a kalū was only a part-

time official is borne out by several contracts, but the existence of the

1 Revue d'Assyriologie, ix (1912), pp. 85 ff.

2 A History of Sumer and Akkad (London, 1910), pp. 74 ff.

3 Sumerische und Akkadische Königsinschriften (1907), pp. 118 ff.

4 Hastings' Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, ix (Edinburgh, 1917), p. 14.

5 Langdon, Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms (Paris, 1909), pp. 26 ff.

6 C. Virolleaud, Astrologie chaldéenne (Paris, 1908), Adad. xi.

7 Langdon, op. cit., p. 301.

8 C. Virolleaud et F. Pélagaud, in Lavignac and La Laurencie, Encyclopédie de la musique, 1re partie, i (Paris, 1913), p. 45.

9 Langdon, Tammuz and Ishtar (Oxford, 1914), p. 184.

10 M. Jastrow, Aspects of Religious Belief and Practice in Babylonia and Assyria (New York, 1911), p. 273.

11 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, pp. x ff.

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Sumerian galamah (Akkadian kalamahhu) or chief precentor, who held the highest position in the city, reveals the sacred significance of his office.

These precentors were formed into guilds and they were housed, seemingly, in the temple college,1 just as were vicars-choral in Christian Europe.2 Here they were taught the mysteries of their sacred office, including a precise knowledge of the cantillation (kalūtu) which, like the prae-cantus of the Christian Church, was an art requiring a long training. The Sumerian language, like the Latin in the Roman Church, was the language of the liturgies although, later, an interlinear Akkadian version existed. As in Christian lands, these precentors of Mesopotamia were well versed in the sciences, and we have an astrological report signed by a precentor. Yet their most important work in this respect was as copyists and editors of the temple liturgies, so many of which have been preserved together with the names of the copyists.

The ordinary temple musician was called in Sumerian the nar (Akkadian nāru), the Semitic word being also used, probably, for 'musician' in the generic sense.3 We cannot be sure of the nāru's actual duties, but he was possibly a chorister who, with others, made the responses in the liturgies. That the 'chorister' also played upon an instrument is well attested. Langdon says that his frequent connexion with private penitential services, especially those connected with magic, led to his ultimate dissociation from public services. At burial services it was the nāru and not the kalū who contributed to the penitential psalming and wailing.4 It is certain that the nāru was later seen quite frequently in the secular sphere. Equally important was the Sumerian ilukaka (Akkadian, zammēru), whose specific function is not easy to determine since the term often equates with nāru. Virolleaud and Pélagaud opine that while nāru signifies the generic term for 'musician', zammēru stands for 'instrumentalist'.5 Yet he was definitely a singer also, and took part in the liturgies. Even Langdon does not help us except to say that the zammēru sang to an instrument and that he was distinct from the nāru.6

1 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, p. xii.

2 H. G. Farmer, A History of Music in Scotland (London, 1947), p. 55.

3 Langdon looks upon the nāru as one who 'leads the congregation' in public worship, just as the Presbyterian 'uptaker of psalms' did in the Scottish kirk; the same authority identifies 'the familiar figure on seals, who leads a penitent to his god' as the nāru. See Langdon, Babylonian Penitential Psalms (Paris, 1927), p. v.

4 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, pp. xxvii ff.

5 Op cit., p. 44.

6 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, p. xxvi.

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The place in the temple and the duties in general of all these temple and extra-mural musical functionaries are nowhere definitely described. One imagines that the precentor specialized in the cantillation (kalūtu) and sometimes, if not generally, accompanied himself on an instrument. It is prescribed in some texts when ‘he shall sing’ (izamur) and when ‘he [the patient] shall recite’ (imannū). The chorister's business, whether he was a nāru or zammēru, was the chant called in Sumerian sir (Akkadian širḫu). Deimel (447b),1 however, cites the Akkadian šēru as ‘a section of a song’, a word cognate with the Hebrew šīr. Then there was the penitential psalm (Akkadian zamāru), which has a derived name in the Hebrew mizmōr, and it is possible that the Akkadian zamar tušgi (√šigū) and the zamar šēri can be matched in the Hebrew mizmōr šiggaiōn and the mizmōr šīr (Psalms, vii, lxvii, lxviii).2 Lamentation proper in Akkadian was inḫu, and its character is preserved in the neḥī of Micah (ii, 4) and the nauḥ of the Arabs. The cult wail may have been known as alālu, although Deimel says ‘shouts of joy’. If correct it may have given rise to the name of the sixth month (elūl), which was the time of wailing for Tammuz,3 still kept by the Jews.

Of the actual music of the Mesopotamian temples or elsewhere we know but little, although the vehicle by which it was expressed has come down to us in vast treasures by way of liturgies, breviaries, psalms, and songs, edited by Langdon, Reisner, Ebeling, and others. Indeed Langdon has said that a full index of this musical material ‘would rival that of the Roman or Anglican books of devotion’.4 These public services date back to Sumerian days, at which date they consisted of but a single psalm or hymn, generally a lamentation, termed in Sumerian an eršemma, which strictly meant ‘a psalm or hymn set to a reed-pipe. Yet other instruments were also used to accompany the psalm—the flute (tig), drum (balag), kettledrum (lilis), and tambourine (adapa)—and in the course of time the music came to be known by the name of the complementary instrument.5 This one-psalm service passed away before the time of the first Babylonian dynasty (1830 B.C.), when the eršemma was supplanted by a complete liturgical service called a kišub. These new services had been compiled by the schools of liturgists who had combined several of the

1 Akkadisch-Sumerisches Glossar (Rome, 1937).

2 Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, (1921), pp. 175 ff. Cf. Revue d'Assyriologie, xviii (1921), p. 41. Deimel (479b) gives tešqū and teškū.

3 Hastings' Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, ix (Edinburgh, 1917), p. 14. A. Deimel, op. cit., p. 13. Cf. the Greek ἀλαλά.

4 Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms, p. x.

5 Ibid., p. ix.

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eršemma type of psalms or hymns which had a common appeal.

‘Here’, to quote Langdon, ‘we have extremely long services com-

posed of a succession of melodies characterized by changing refrains

and musical motifs.’

Each liturgy was now called a ‘series’ (iškaru), and it is found with

as few as five psalms or hymns and as many as twenty-seven. At a later

period the term eršemma was revived as an intercessional hymn at the

end of a kišub.1 According to Langdon, our foremost authority on

the subject, when the public services began to develop in this way, the

music, which had hitherto been confined to a single instrument, now

became based on what seems to be a wider instrumental conception.2

We read for example, in an addendum to the series called Exalted

Heaven:3

The precentors a chant to the drum (balaggu) shall sing.

To the sacred kettledrums (uppu and lilissu) shall sing.

To the reed-pipe (halhallatu) and tambourine (manzû) shall sing.

Liturgies now came to be known by their first lines,4 and so perhaps

their melodies also. Many of the latter are frequently mentioned, and

Langdon says ‘that a certain tune was associated with all passages

characterized by this refrain’.5 One might be reading an early English

psalter when we see a rubric which says: ‘A song to the tune “Thou

wilt not cast me down”.’ That the kišub was attended by processional

movements on the part of the choir is also stressed by Langdon, who

suggests that a ‘choral march’—‘a real recessional’—came at the end

of the litany.6 Interludes are also found in lengthy litanies, and one

may perhaps see in these an explanation of the much discussed selah

of the Old Testament.

That the antiphon (gišgigal) was fairly common seems to be ac-

cepted by Langdon,7 Cumming,8 and Galpin,9 and it may be men-

tioned that in later days the Akkadian word enû meant ‘answer’,

‘repeat’. It may have been derived from the Sumerian en (Akkadian

šiptu).10 There is a Babylonian antiphonal lamentation in Akkadian

1 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, p. xli. Cf. his statement in Babylonian Penitential

Psalms, p. v.

2 Ibid., p. xlii.

3 Langdon, Sumerian and Babylonian Psalms, pp. 70–71; Babylonian Liturgies,

pp. viii ff.

4 Langdon, Sumerian Liturgies and Psalms (Philadelphia, 1919), p. 325.

5 Langdon, Babylonian Liturgies, p. xxxv.

6 Ibid., p. xlviii.

7 Babylonian Liturgies (Paris, 1913), p. 1.

8 The Assyrian and Hebrew Hymns of Praise (New York, 1934) pp. 72 ff.

9 Op. cit., p. 62.

10 Langdon, Babylonian Penitential Psalms, pp. vii, 48–52.

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235

of a late period.1 which is a copy of a Sumerian original of the

time of Narām-Sin (c. 2280 B.C.). In this the women of various towns

participated. Sidney Smith suggests that they were divided into two

groups and that ‘each half-chorus sang alternately’ the lines which

were appropriate to themselves in the destruction of their lands by

the Guti.2 Perhaps a more moving example of an antiphon is the

Liturgy and Prayer to the Moon God, which dates from the time of

Dungi (twenty-first century B.C.). It is an appeal to the god Sin to

care for flocks and harvests, with twin recurring refrains, seemingly

responsory.3

In addition to the instruments mentioned as being used in the

kišub services, the harp (zagsal) also had a recognized place.4 Further,