1. BkE-FoxStrangways-MusicofHindostan-0025

LIBRARY OF

WELLESLEY COLLEGE

GII

SED D MINI INIST nci Vita pit Nova RANE NON MINISTRAR

187

PRESENTED BY

The Watumull Foundation

1.36

Chuat Ile

THE MUSIC OF HINDOSTAN

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW NEW YORK

TORONTO MELBOURNE BOMBAY

HUMPHREY MILFORD, M.A PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY

1495

Kalindranath Jagore

THE MUSIC OF

HINDOSTAN

BY

A. H. FOX STRANGWAYS

OXFORD

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS

1914

2590.4

PREFACE

HINDOSTAN is, technically, the Indus and Ganges basins; and it is with the music of that part of India that this book primarily deals. It contains reference also to the system of the Carnatic, though that has been more fully treated of in C. R. Day's Music of Southern India and the Deccan. The study of Indian music is of interest to all who care for song, and of special interest to those who have studied the early stages of song in mediaeval Europe or ancient Greece. For here is the living language of which in those we have only dead examples. It is hardly possible in the case of modern European Folk-song to study melody pure and simple, for we have no large body of such song of which we can certainly say that it was not influenced at all by the current conception of harmony. But here is melody absolutely un- touched by harmony, which has developed through many centuries tendencies which have the force of laws; and the examination of these enables us to some extent to separate the respective contributions of melody and harmony to the final effect in our own music. Those to whom this aspect of the subject appeals are recommended after glancing at Chapters I and II to look at Chapters VI, VII, VIII, and XII. Others may be more interested in that technical side of the art which tabulates the facts of song, and their taste has been consulted in Chapters IV and V; others, again, to whom the main charm of the music lies in the memories of India which it revives, may find more of what they would care to read in the Introduction and the first three chapters. In the hope of being useful to those who may wish to make further investigation into the subject a large number of technical terms has been admitted into the text. These have almost always been translated where they occur, and they

vi PREFACE

appear also in the Index. It would, however, take more than one volume to do justice to all the details, and they have not as a rule been elaborated except to illustrate some principle. Two branches of the music have been left untouched-the instruments and the notation. About the latter there is very little to say except that it is a Tonic Sol-fa notation of which the various local scripts and special signs are easily mastered. The typical instruments have been admirably described and illustrated by Day; the more interesting part, the technique, can, of course, be communicated only orally, with the instru- ment in hand. But India is now, instrumentally, at the same stage as mediaeval Europe, with a great variety of means of supporting the voice but absolutely no sense of orchestration ; and though a close study of its instruments would probably reveal more than one ancestor of those which our orchestra employs, it would hardly throw much light on any principle of art, and has therefore been omitted. Exception has, how- ever, been made in favour of the drum, the treatment of which is possibly unique. The India Society have done this book the honour of pur- chasing copies for distribution to their members for the year 1913. If Indian readers should open it and should be sur- prised to find the facts given differently from the way to which they are accustomed, they are asked to remember that as there is no one system which is applicable to the whole country, so the circumstance that one set of facts is quoted rather than another need not vitiate the argument; and it is hoped that they will look with a lenient eye upon many solecisms in spelling which are due to sheer ignorance. The author offers his sincere thanks to many who have helped him in all sorts of ways to gather materials for this book. It would be impossible to make a complete list of them, and he hesitates to give an imperfect list. He hopes that the dozens of English men and women who offered so much hospitality and so many facilities in the winters of 1904 and 1910, the ruling princes and their conrt officials who arranged oppor- tunities, the private gentlemen who organized concerts and

PREFACE vii

who were ready to discuss their music technically or generally, the numerous musicians who answered with patience and courtesy many questions or who played and sang for many hours, down to his various 'bearers' who knew what he was going to wear before he knew what he was going to do, who caught his trains before he had decided by which one to go, who produced food and transport under the most unlikely and a smiling face under all circumstances, will believe that he has not forgotten their kindness; and that some of his benefactors may even find in these pages enough to make them think it was not wholly wasted. It would be sanguine to hope that the book could be free from errors both of fact and of proportion. To sift discrepant statements and to get the main features into the proper per- spective would have demanded a longer sojourn than twelve months. If it is comparatively free from minor blemishes this is due to the kindness of several who have read the proofs-to Dr. Coomaraswamy for Chapters I and II, also for several illustrations; to Mr. Abdy Williams for Chapter VIII; to Mr. Walter Ford and Mr. E. D. Rendall for some musical illustrations and suggestions; to Dr. A. A. Macdonell, Dr. L. D. Barnett, Mr. F. W. Thomas, Dr. Felber of Vienna, and Dr. Simon of Munich for Chapter X; and to the readers of the Clarendon Press for their very careful supervision of the whole. Grateful acknowledgement is also made to Mr. William Rothenstein for the loan of the copyright of his portrait of Rabindranath Tagore (see p. 92). It was decided to include this portrait before the poet's name was known to Europe; and now, although the need of making it known no longer exists, the portrait is still retained as the frontispiece. The appearance there of one who, more than any other, may be said to personify Indian music in its broadest sense, may serve to remind us of what is surely the truth, that music does not reside in those designs and devices which can be imprisoned in symbols and committed to paper, but that it comes and goes only upon the lips or the fingers of men who are able to feel it or to create it.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

The understanding of music as affected by national characteristics, 1, 2; by an antiquated system, 3; by the absence of harmony, 4, 5; by difference of content, 6, 7. Causes of the particular form taken by Indian music due to the conservatism of India, 7; to its size, 8; to its climate, 9, 10. A concert, 11-13. The future of Indian music, 14-16.

CHAPTER I

A MUSICAL DIARY

Conditions under which these songs were collected and caution with which they should be received, 17, 18. Chanties and labour songs, 19-21. Occupation songs, 20-7. Nagpur, Central Provinces, 29-31. West coast, 32-8. Travancore, 39-45. Maratha bards, 46, 47. Conclusions, 48, 49.

CHAPTER II

A MUSICAL DIARY (continued) Garhwālīs, 50-6. Gurkhas, 57, 58. Panjābis, Cuttack dance, 59. Bhavnagar, 60, 61. Lullabies, 62-7. Children's songs, 68. Conclusions, 69-72.

CHAPTER III

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY Absence of the historical sense, 73, 74. Legend, 75-82. History, 83-5. The present day, 86-90. Subbanna and Seshanna of Mysore, 86. Rama- chandra of Trivandrum, 88, 89. Sourendro Banerji of Calcutta, 88. Chandra Prabhu of Bhavnagar, 90. Rabindranath Tagore, 92-9.

CHAPTER IV

THE SCALE The facts of folk-song and folk-instruments, 100-4. List of Sanskrit authorities, 105. Technical terms, 106-8. The gramas, 109-12. Bharata, 113. Date of his system, 114. His twenty-two śrutis, 115-18. South India, 119, 120. Transilient scales, 122-6. The śruti in practical music, 127-9; and in European music, 130-3.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ix

CHAPTER V

MODE

Scale and mnode, 134-6. Indian conception of mode, 137-9. The Greek parallel, 140-3. Mode in actual practice, 144, 145. Appoggiatura, 146, 147. Absolute pitch, 148. Grāma and Rāg, 149. Ancient and modern mode, 150.

CHAPTER VI

RĀGA The table of Rags, 151, 152. Appropriate times and seasons, 153. Sources of Raga, 154, 155. Tessitura, 156. A Rag is not a tune, 157; but it conforms to law, 158, 159. Conjunct motion, 160-2. Harmony and harmonization, 163, 164. Instances of Rāg, 165-9. Re-entrant Rāgs, 170. The drone, 171-3. Comparison with European melody, 174-6; and with the ecclesi- astical modes, 177, 178. Imitation, 179. The intervals chosen in melody have no basis in harmony, 180.

CHAPTER VII

GRACE

Grace is inherent in the note, not an appendage to it, 181, 182. Two main kinds of grace, 183. Comparison with Scotch graces, 184, 185; and Hungarian, 186. Grace in the Sanskrit theory, 187. The Mohammedan Tappa, 188, 189. Grace may be traced to Sanskrit pronunciation, 190.

CHAPTER VIII

TĀLA

Stress and quantity, 191, 192. Sanskrit metres, 193-200. The transition from poetical to musical metre, 201-3. Metre in music, 204-8. The Carnatic system of Time, 209-14. The Hindostani system, 215, 216. Comparison with the European system, 217-24.

CHAPTER IX

DRUMMING Indian and European drumming, 225, 226. Drums, 227. Drum-words, 228, 229; drum-phrases, 230; and drum-variants, 231, 232. Instances, 233-40. Augmentation and diminution, 241; and 'convergence' and 'cumulation', 242. The drum used ornamentally not structurally, 243-5.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER X

THE SĀMAN CHANT The Rgveda accent, 246-8. The Samaveda, 249-52. Its 'form', 253, 254; its rhythm, 255, 256; its scale, 257-9; its original nucleus, 260. Consonance, 261, 262. The Gāndhāra grāma, 263. The Saman scale as transilient, 264. The musical hand, 264, 265. The early Greek scale, 266. Instances of Saman chant, 266-73. Notation, 273. Some technical terms, 274-6. A vocal scale, 276-9.

CHAPTER XI

FORM

Amsa and drone take the place of our dominant and tonic as the basis of form, 280, 281. The Kirthanam, 282-5. Other forms, 286. The Khyāl, 287-99. Subsidiary forms, 299, 300. Specimens of Rāgs, 301-16. The cycle of Rags, 317-19.

CHAPTER XII

MELODY Melody is homogeneous, 320-2. Conjunct and disjunct motion, 322-8. Climax, 328-30. Tessitura, 330-4. Rhythm, cross-metre, 334-6. Analysis of a European, 337, and of an Indian melody, 338. Their characteristics contrasted, 338-42.

PAGE APPENDIX I 343

APPENDIX II 345

BIBLIOGRAPHY . 346

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 353

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Rabindranath Tagore. From a drawing by W. Rothenstein Frontispiece PLATE 1. Music party. Detail from a picture (seventeenth century) in the collection of G. N. Tagore . To face p. 14 PLATE 2. Māria Gonds. Circular dance Gonds and Kanwars. Slow dance, with anklets Malyas dancing Malayan women dancing To face p. 30 PLATE 3. Kashmīri bīn-player Nāgasaram-players, Tanjore .To fuce p. 46 PLATE 4. Ragi-grinding Pāņans Schoolmistress, Tanjore To face p. 63 PLATE 5. Musicians. Detail from an eighteenth-century Rajput cartoon in the collection of A. K. Coomaraswamy To face p. 73 PLATE 6. Detail from a picture of the Surrender of Kan- dahar in the collection of Sītaram Lal of Benares. Seventeenth century To face p. 77 PLATE 7. Mughal drawing, seventeenth century, of a bīn- player, from an original in the collection of G. N. Tagore To face p. 78 PLATE 8. Dancing girl, South India To face p. 80 PLATE 9. Portrait of Numa Khan Katawant, a musician of the court of Jahangir, from a picture in the collection of A. K. Coomaraswamy . To face p. 83 PLATE 10. Seshanna, vīņā-player, Mysore Aiknāth Vishnu Paņdit, vīņā-player, Poona To face p. 86 PLATE 11. Ranganna, drummer, Mysore To face p. 225 PLATE 12. Bhai Santu, drummer, Amritsar . To face p. 227 PLATE 13. Group of instruments. From the collection in the Museum, Bangalore . To face p. 228 PLATE 14. Sāmagaļ, Madras Sāmagaḥ, Bangalore To face p. 264 TABLE 1. Hindostani Rāgs . To face p. 151 TABLE 2. Folk-song variants To face p. 154

2 INTRODUCTION

were under sentence of death ? A piece of scenery is truly enjoyed only in proportion as a man knows what he is looking for and realizes what he has found. It is a synthesis, but it is analysable, even if we do not consciously analyse. It is the same with music. Another difficulty in hearing music consists not in the departure from the old-established methods so much as in the substitution of new and strange conventions and associations. Cosmopolitan as the music of Europe is, we still feel the distinction of nationality. In a song by a foreign composer, whether the words are translations from his language or are originals in our own, we are conscious of passages in the music itself which to us, do not seem, to be quite the natural expression of the sentiment of the song. A German hardly seems to get at the conciseness nor a Frenchman at the dignity of what we feel. And it is a true instinct which leads singers to employ the language of the foreign composer rather than a translation, even when it is by Paul England at his best, or than the original English, even when the words are by Scott or Burns. Again, it is difficult for us to seize the point of thought of a Monssorgsky or a Ravel, not merely because they are new, but because they select and develop special aspects of our common heritage of European music. We might summarize such distinc- tions by saying that music which is to move the listener must be for a German solid and profound, for a Frenchman pungent and antithetical, for a Russian poignant and elemental, while we our- selves find our account best perhaps in humour verging on irony. At the same time the modifications of the general trend of European musical thought, as it is taken up into this or that national mind are slight, and the differences of idiom hardly more than dialectical ; we are still travelling in the mother country, but, for the moment,- in an unfamiliar part of it. But when we look beyond the 'intense cultivation ' of Western democracies, away from the spirit of com- petition, the method of science, and the claims of ' efficiency', to the calm of the East, where a man's life is his own or at most his family's concern, rather than the State's, where there is time to live it, where truth is found neither in analysis nor compromise, and spiritual food is not contained in tabloids, we do not know what to make of music which is dilatory without being sentimental and utters passion without vehemence. Another kind of music which has for us an unfamiliar convention

INTRODUCTION 3

is the polyphony of the Middle Ages. Here it is not the place but the time that is unfamiliar; we have suddenly thought away four centuries of our civilization. We step aside from the battle of the styles to contemplate achieved beauty. We wonder where now there are such workmen as those who built these melodies, what their secret was, and what the life of which these were the expres- sion. They move us like forlorn hopes and lost joys, like the places we knew when we were children, like the land to which Blake hurried home from Santa Cruz. They appeal by their freshness and strangeness, but still more by an intimate familiarity. As an Englishman who happened to see for the first time the slope of a Sussex down would feel, apart from its intrinsic beauty, that it was the most English thing that he ever saw, so from these, apart from their intrinsic beauty of tone, the man of religion gets best at that truth which is beyond all limit and condition. Here the different convention helps rather than hinders him; just as his deepest intimations of those thoughts which are beyond words are conveyed to him more casily in Elizabethan language and in Hebrew phraseology than in any other form. It is this strange familiarity, which we are conscious of in Indian melody, that makes us sure that "though our language is different and our habits are dissimilar, at the bottom our hearts are one". But more imagination is needed to place ourselves at the point of view from which we may enjoy the method of early folk-song, that is, of melody conceived apart from harmony; and it is very difficult for those who have thought all melody with an under- lying harmony, tacit or explicit, to accept it without harmony, except after long practice. Consequently they are seldom asked so to accept it; except for specialists, no folk-song is published with- out accompaniment. The problem is a difficult one, for if a harmonized folk-song, like a restored cathedral, is a persistent lie, yet a folk-song without harmony seems, at any rate for most of us, to fall to pieces, like a picture without perspective. There is another connexion between harmony and melody more intimate still, whereby harmony is no longer a mere adornment to melody which can be added or not, at will, but a vital factor influencing the actual structure of the melody itself. We may harmonize, if we please, 'Green Sleeves' or 'Walsingham' or the 'Agincourt Song' without doing them much harm; but if harmony, as we understand B 2

4 INTRODUCTION

it, had been in the air these tunes could never have come to birth. A tune is just a mnsical sentence, paragraph, or chapter. And a sentence consists of important and unimportant words, and is not a string of dictionary words. In the same way a tune consists of important and unimportant notes, and depends for its convincing- ness upon a judicious management of these. But the principles upon which this 'importance' depends are different for melody and for harmony. The most obvions thing about harmony is that certain combina- tions are more euphonious than others; the more euphonious are dwelt upon, and the less euphonious skimmed lightly over. The essence of harmony lies in 'substantive' and ' passing' notes, and its progress consists in a training of the ear by which more and more 'passing' notes become 'substantive'. The very various 'chords' that arise in this process give a distinet colour, i. e. im- portance, to the note to which for the moment they are applied. On the other hand, the most obvious thing about melody, a succession of single notes, is that the tune 'lies' high or low, that it has, as we say, a high tessitura or the reverse. This implies a level on which as a whole the song rests, and in comparison with which its salient passages are high or low. 'Laws' of melody spring into existence as the distance between these two levels, and the manner of passing from one to the other, come to be established and, later, stereotyped-as, for instance, in the ' Final' and ' Recit- ing' notes of Ecclesiastical music. In the process the intervening notes, and others beyond these two salient points, acquire varying 'importance' subsidiary to that of the two principal notes; and the whole of unharmonized song is laid out with reference to this variety of importance. But since harmony gives importance, at will, to this or that note of the tune, the 'harmonic' tune will in its turn tend to travel along the most telling points of the harmony and to reinforce its crises; and the significance of such music will be the result of the conflict between melodic idiosyncrasy and harmonic necessity. The compromise between these two impulses will lead to closeness of structure and make for unity, because each checks the tendency in the other to free improvisation. 'Melodic' tune, on the other hand, contains its law in itself, and it has merely to display that law, not to conflict with some other. Provided the 'laws' of melody

INTRODUCTION 5

are not transgressed, one particular structure seems no more desir- able than another; and this leads easily to a variety and elaboration of detail, which blunts the sharp outline of tune and throws the weight rather upon definition of mood. The beauty of harmonic music is that of tilth and culture; of melodic music, that of the briony and the gossamer. In Europe the conventions of folk-song do not land us in any great difficulties. There is nothing in them which a good artist who is content to eschew conceits and lay aside all preciosity cannot as a matter of fact sing. There are few unsingable intervals because, with the exception of a few people, like the Greeks and Hungarians, the scales in use are the common property of the whole continent. There are few melodic ornaments or eccentric rhythms; they do not thrive when voices are much used in concert. But beyond Europe, at any rate in India, with which we are now concerned, it is very different. An enormous amount of convention, the growth of centuries, stands between us and the reproduction and therefore the appreciation of their melodies, for we understand little of any music we can take no part in. And yet no true musician would turn his back on it if he were convinced that the conventions were interesting in themselves; still less if he felt that there was real art behind the conventions. Music in India, as elsewhere, is of varying excellence ; and it is as rare perhaps to hear the best there as it is in Europe. If we look away, however, from the less worthy kind, which is apt to deal in cheap contrast and to indulge in personal display, to the noblest which is to be found there, our chief difficulty is to feel the religious element in it which an Indian feels. To hold any intelligible language about the emotional content of music is difficult; it is still more difficult when the content is that subject which ' every sensible man keeps to himself'. The range and depth of religious feeling varies in different countries, in one land it rides close, in another it sits loosely, to ethics, and the manifestations of it look different as they proceed from the intellectual or animal extremes of our nature -from the Vedantists or the Tantriks, from the Fourth Gospel or the Song of Solomon. Without questioning the spirituality of the religion of Europe or India, we may call the former practical and the latter contemplative; though it is difficult to say even as much as that without seeming to assert that the

6 INTRODUCTION

converse is never true, which would be absurd. But Europe, certainly England, thinks poorly of a religion that does not result in a good life : while India fixes its attention on the quality of the religion, the amount of realization and of vision it contains, and leaves the good life to follow as a natural consequence. India is still living the age of Faith. It is no accident, therefore, that the nearest analogue we can find to its music is that which culminated in the work of the Cinquecentists. Why it is that the Gregorian Tones portray a self-surrendering faith we can no more explain than we can say why it is that we agree with Heine's description of Ein' feste Burg as the Marseillaise of the Reformation, or that we recognize an undemonstrative pietism in Charles Wesley's tunes and an undeniable suitability for their purpose in the hymns of the Salvation Army; but we easily feel that none of these can be divorced from their age or occasion. And though we may be unable to point to definite characteristics in Indian music which are due to its impregnation with a most spiritual form of religion, yet its extraordinary correspondence in detail both of time and tune with the music of Ecclesiastical Europe justifies the view that a peculiar outlook on the world, such for instance as the specifically religious outlook, does bring as a result a peculiar form of music. The best Indian feels towards his music, as perhaps the best of us do towards ours, like the Devout Lover : Wheresoe'er my fancy would begin Still her perfection lets religion in. I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, And come unto my courtship as my prayer. Of this song, given me by S. M. Maitra, the tune is one commonly sung by boatmen in Bengal; the Bengali words are by Indu Bhuśan Ray, the translation by Maitra. The mad woman wandering about hugging a bundle of rags she has collected, with village urchins snatching at them, is a common sight; what is not common is the poet's use of such an image to portray the soul's close communion with God. Thou art my tiny bundle of old torn rags, my dearest lord; and I am thine own little mad woman holding thee always on my heart. When I am tired I lay myself down under the tree by the river-side, and sleep in peace, resting my head on thy bosom. In the streets men point the finger of scorn at me; they laugh at me, they throw dust on me.

INTRODUCTION 7

Some try to pluck thee from my heart, some tell me to cast thee away. Ah! but how could thy mad woman live without thee, my love ! Pressing thee to my breast I go on my way, and neither fear nor falter; this mad mind of mine cannot be touched by any troubled thoughts. Long, long years have come and gone, but thou art still the one sweet thing that never grows old. With what talisman holdest thou this mad, mad soul of mine, my love ! My translator said "Men weep when they hear this song".

BHATIAL (BOATMAN'S SONG) (Bengali Words) Andante. d= 72. 1 Ex. 1.

Srān-ta ho- le no-di tir to - ru tal pa tor bu-ke

mā-tha re - kha ni-schin-ta ghu .. mai re Che-ra

3 na krar pu tu - li . . tu - i mor Ban - dhua-re

Che-ra na - krar pu - tu - li tu- i mor, &c.

There is, it is said, no statement which will apply to the whole of India except the geographical one that it is east of Suez. But three statements can be made about it which no one will be dis- posed to deny-that it is old and large and hot. India has had time to forget more melody than Europe has had time to learn. The elements of tone and rhythm have been combined and recom- bined, and have left the theory a tangled mass of forgotten systems and the practice an ineradicable instinct. The veneration for the past because of its remoteness, the mental attitude which looks away from the categories of time and space and turns its attention upon the essence of the thing itself, the faith which links the present closely with the time when the gods walked the earth and still points to the visible imprints of their feet-all these have united to personify every element of their music, and piously to

1 The reason for this way of writing grace-notes is explained in Chapter VII.

8 INTRODUCTION

preserve names and attributes which have long lost their meaning; so that much of the theory is clear only to those who can read myth. Nor on the practical side has extemporization, as it is there under- stood, been learned in a day, nor even in the lifetime of any individual; it is, just as much as their fluent public speaking, an inherited instinet of the race. This is, of course, bound up with another peculiarity, the disinclination to spoil a good memory by reliance on the written word or note. The writer heard two girl violinists at Tanjore play by heart in unison for five minutes, and they never once betrayed by a wrong note or by false intonation the fact that they were two and not one. But it is age-long practice rather than memory which has placed at the command of the best singers that inexhaustible wealth of variation with which they make a melody their own, that gift of improvisation which takes on an epic quality, as all crafts do that are handed down from father to son. To walk on the Old Trunk Road is, it has been said, to step into a chapter of Genesis; and in the same way we catch, in these immemorial cadences, the very spirit of the rhapsodists of Homer. Their musie is old, but with an age like the eternal youth of Greece, not with a second childhood like the stereotyped formulas of the Troubadours. The size of a country is to be reckoned not in square miles but by its travelling facilities or their absence. The Norwegian valleys of Helgedal and Lejra Elv are ten miles distant at their nearest point; but as far apart praetically, and as different linguistically, as Devon and York. Indian dialects have been variously computed at 141 and 183; it is probably within the mark to say that India comprises 50 peoples, each ranging from thousands to millions, who are mutually unintelligible. If it cannot at present be shown that music and language follow geographically the same lines, it is patent that in each the means of expression is based upon the same general principles of phonetic decay, antithesis, exegesis, and so on, and that both deepen in secluded communities and broaden upon the stream of a universal currency. And the hundreds of names of Indian Rāgs, and many more if we count all the variants which, coming from different parts of the country, are included under the same name, are there to show that 'mood' behaves in all respeets like dialect. This isolation of the village or the tribe has been repeated in the isolation of the court. The method of Gwalior has been firmly marked off from

INTRODUCTION 9

that of Lucknow or Indore, and these from the methods of Mysore and Tanjore and Trivandrum. Such places formed centres in which local usages were summed up and tabulated; and music that was born in secluded valleys and in trackless deserts was there nursed by royal patronage. If it is too soon to say that the patronage is withdrawn, there are signs that it is rapidly diminish- ing; and, as for the seclusion upon which this reflective music has so largely thriven, there can be little pride in his profession left to a singer when gramophone records of his best songs can be bought in any large town. In spite of all this it is difficult to believe that Music will lose heart and depart from the earth, least of all from so poetical a race. Alter erit tum Tiphys, et altera quae vehat Argo Delectos heroas. Lastly there is the climate, the effect of which is twofold. Since life is lived under the simplest conditions and much in the open air, day being turned into night and night into day, all times of the twenty-four hours are available, to somebody, for making music. And the character of the music is felt, far more than in Europe where the conditions are more formal, to depend closely upon the hour and season of its performance. It is difficult to gauge the strength of this feeling, since those who believe that the beauty of the music depends on its being heard at the appropriate time are about equal in number to those who do not. The belief is strongest where the music is purest, where it is performed for its own sake rather than for display, and, like every other musical belief, is very old. Another result of the climatic conditions is seen in the sim- plicity of the instruments. The Vina, the most elaborate and the oldest, has not a tithe of the complication of the piano; for the tension of the strings being low, the framework can be simple, and the fingers being on the string, all mechanism is dispensed with. Nor are the gradations between the best and the worst specimens so subtle as in the violin; for the tone is not exposed so much to criticism on plucked as on bowed strings. Neither, of course, is there any comparison in the cost; ten pounds will buy a good instrument for the player's purpose, and the many tens more that may be spent on it are lavished, though not wasted, upon its ornamentation. Meanwhile, for simpler requirements, nature pro- vides the bamboo, out of which an hour's work will fashion a service- able flute, and man provides the water-pot (chatti) over which

10 INTRODUCTION

a skin may be stretched to furnish a quite sufficient drum.1 It is not the great heat that matters-the difference between midsummer and midwinter is no greater than in Europe-but the all-pervading damp of the rains after the searching hcat of June. This swells the wood and softens the glue and so breaks down the tone of elaborately constructed instruments such as we employ. We have spoken of some difficulties of understanding music which are due to an unfamiliar convention of time or place, or to the absence of a convention to which we are accustomed, or to the presence of a content which appeals less forcibly to us; we have also considered the effect on the particular music which is under dis- cussion, of the conservatism, the broad expanse, and the climate of India. One more cause of the particular form which this music has taken is to be found in the language of the country; for speech is logically, if not also historically, prior to song. Sanskrit, with an infusion of Persian in the north, and in the south incorporating relics of still older tongues, is the basis of all Indian languages. Its pure resonant vowels and clear-cut consonants present the least possible obstacles to good vocalization. The fact that quantity counts for more than accent in its pronunciation has made metre rather than rhythm the decisive element of musical time. The com- bination of resonant vowels and a metrical language has led to the development of vocal rather than instrumental music. And since the voice employs equable force of tone rather than violent dynamic changes, its deficiency in this respect has been made good on the drum.

That is perhaps as far as the printed page can go in presenting to the eye what can only be apprehended by the ear. To suggest the effect of that which even musical notation only faintly shows, we may borrow a device from the poets. When Homer wanted his reader to feel that Helen's beauty was worth all the ten years' agony of Troy, he made him listen to the old men on the walls talking about her ways as she had moved amongst them in their youth. In that spirit we may read the diary of Pierre Loti in the fifth chapter of his L'Inde; and those who have never heard what he speaks of may divine what he means, while those who have heard it may take pleasure in his accuracy of observation and truth of feeling. 1 Mrdanga, the general word for drum, means ' clay-body'.

INTRODUCTION 11

"About four o'clock in the afternoon, when the midday heat has passed, the musicians of the Maharajah's orchestra, who have been placed at my disposal for a few hours, enter with noiseless steps, bow ceremoniously, and take their seats on the carpet which has been spread for them in the verandah. "In the clear-cut profile and dainty features you recognize at once the artist. Gold tinselled turbans are on their heads, and diamonds in their ears. A fold of silk, touched here and there with gold leaf and disposed in the classic style, is thrown over the shoulder and leaves free one side of the body and an arm covered with bangles. From their light drapery steals a faint scent of rose-water. "They have brought large instruments with brass strings; giant mandolins and overgrown guitars with the scroll of the finger- board ending in the head of some monster. These guitars differ con- siderably from one another and are intended to produce very different effects ; but they have all of them large sound-boards, and occasionally, at the ends of the finger-board, hollow globes looking like fruit on a branch. They are painted, gilded, inlaid with ivory ; they are old, well seasoned, and valuable. The mere sight of these queer shapes awakes in me a feeling of mystery-the mystery of India. The musicians smile as they show me them. This one is to be caressed by the finger, that to be stroked by the bow, a third to be plucked with a mother of pearl plectrum, and there is one which is to be played actually by rolling along the strings a little oval piece of ebony. Refinements, these, such as our Western musicians have never known. Then there are drums tuned to different notes and child singers sumptuously dressed. A pro- gramme specially printed for me is put into my hand containing the melodious polysyllables of the performers' names. "By five o'clock they are all there, a score of them, seated on the carpet in the growing twilight while the punkah swings languidly overhead. And now the monster at the end of each guitar has reared its head and the concert is going to begin. What devastating sounds will issue, doubtless, from instruments of such a build, and what a din from the drums! I wait, nerving myself for much noise. Behind the players is an archway standing out against a white porch through which a group of the Maharajah's soldiers are seen standing in the rays of the setting sun, their tur- bans glowing in the red light to a deeper red, while the musicians

12 INTRODUCTION

form a dim eluster in deep shadow. The sight of their serious faces, and the fixed look with which they regard each other rather than any actual sound, tells you that the concert has begun. " A note is held on pianissimo, almost too high for the ear to distinguish, like the opening phrase of Lohengrin, and then through several and various developments passes into a rhythmie move- ment without any increase in the body of sound. Astonishing it is, this almost silent music issuing from such powerful strings! It is like the buzzing of a fly imprisoned in your hand, or the rustle of a moth's wing against a window-pane, or the death struggle of a dragon-fly. One of the players holds in his mouth a little steel im- plement, and by the vibration of his cheeks produces the sound of a whispering fountain. Another, on one of the largest of the guitars, coaxed by the hand as if the player were afraid of it, keeps up on the same notes a prolonged Tuwhoo! like the blurred note of an owl, whilst a third instrument, muted, gives the sound of the surf on a distant beach. Then there are taps on the edge of the drum- head with the finger tips which your ear ean hardly detect. Sud- denly jerks and jolts, utterly unexpected, introduce a mad fit of two seconds duration ; the strings vibrate at their full length, and these same drums, struek differently, utter deep, dull sounds like the lum- bering stampede of elephants over hollow ground, or the rumbling of a subterranean torrent in some boiling chasm. Then in a moment all grows quiet again, and relapses at last into the whisper with which it began. "Seated cross-legged on the ground a young Brahman with wonderful eyes holds between his knees an objeet whose lack of finish eontrasts strangely with the refinement of the rest. It is a rongh earthenware jar containing pebbles, and its large opening fits closely to the convex of his bared chest. The volume of tone inereases or diminishes aecording as he leaves the jar open or eloses it by pressing it to his body. His extraordinarily agile fingers draw from it sonnds now twittering, now booming, or again, when the pebbles rattle inside, hard and dry like pattering hail. "When the melody of one of these guitars makes itself felt above this clamorous silence, it is with a sort of wail by which the sound is dragged from one note to the next, an intense and passionate moan of rising grief, and the sobbing melody instead of being drowned is reinforced by the tumult of the unearthly drumming.

INTRODUCTION 13

All this brings the listener into closer touch with the poignancy of human suffering than the supremest moments of Western music ever do .... The melodies do not, however, speak to us of sorrows so remote or so unintelligible as those of a Mongol or a Chinaman. If not at home in them, we seem at least to understand them. They depict the pain of a highly wrought nature which, though it has travelled down the centuries by another path, is yet not radically different from our own. . And the gipsies, though through the medium of a less civilized music, have made us to some extent familiar with these forlorn and feverish accents. "The human voice had, I found, been kept for the end. One after another tiny fragile-looking boys in rich attire, with eyes almond-shaped and over-large, executed bravura passages with bewildering rapidity. The voices they once had were now broken -already dying, as it were. A man in a gold turban conducted them, to the sound of a truly awe-inspiring prelude, by holding them with his eyes, his head lowered like that of a snake fascinating a bird; and you knew that he was mesmerizing them and could, if he pleased, force to breaking point the delicate structure of their frail organs. The words they articulated to their minor cadences were a prayer to appease an angered goddess. "Last of all came the turn of the primo uomo, a handsome man in the prime of life. He sings and acts for me the laments of a young girl deserted by her lover. Seated like the rest on the ground he is at first buried in thought; his brow puckers; his eye darkens. Then his voice breaks out with the incisive wail of an Eastern bagpipe. In his extreme high notes you are still aware, by its harshness, that the voice is a man's; but in the heart-broken tones I hear-and it is a revelation to me-the very song of anguish; and his play of feature and the tense motions of his tapering fingers accentuate the agony of his despair. "These players and singers are the servants of the Maharajah. They are to be heard every day within the guarded stillness of his palace walls, while menials pass to and fro with a cat's footfall, or stand with hands joined in supplication. How far other than onrs must be the thoughts of this Monarch's heart; how different his outlook upon the sorrow of life, and of love, and of death! But music like this, uncommon in character and distinguished in per- formance, reveals to me one little corner of his soul better than did

14 INTRODUCTION

our short and formal interview, spoiled by its tiresome punctilio and by the constraint of a language not my own." Not all Indian music is at this level; and one who determines to hear the real thing must be content to pass hours of boredom and traverse tracts of philistinism, ignorance, and want of skill before he has his reward-as, indeed, may be the case nearer home. But when it comes there is no mistaking it. No doubt there is often that added charm which we get, for instance, in reading poetry in a foreign language, in which the unfamiliar words contain a poetry of their own apart from the poetic use of them; the very naïveté of the melody and the old-worldliness and other-worldliness of the setting in which it is heard often compel our feeling for beauty even in very humble specimens of the art. We lose, perhaps, by not understanding the words, but less than we might expect. All their burden is the simplest desires and the simplest fears-the unwearied iteration of Miserere Domine, and the unwearying tale of human love.

Causes have been here assigned for this music being what it is ; and it would seem that the music will not change until the causes change. Of these the language and the climate are two constant factors. It is shown in Chapter VIII that language, especially verse, has had a determining effect upon the rhythm of the music ; and the climate, besides affecting the question of instruments, diminishes the enterprise which is necessary for concerted music. So far, then, it may be predicted that the music will remain metrical rather than rhythmical, vocal rather than instrumental, and in- dividual rather than concerted. The other two factors were the conservatism and the large area of the country. This large area has already been somewhat contracted, and is likely to be still more contracted in the future, by easier and cheaper means of communi- cation ; the effect of this, musically, should be to reduce the variety of Rāg and Tāl, and to make the 'dialects' conform to some common standard. The conservatism will, no doubt, die hard. It seems to many as if all hope for music lay in recovering the tradi- tions and the knowledge which made it so fine in the past. They believe that art can only prosper under munificent patronage, and that when that is removed art must die. In that they may be right; but when they go on to say, or to imply, that the materia technica of the art, its precise formularies as they existed in those

PLATE 1

Music party. Detail from a picture (seventeenth century) in the collection of G. N. Tagore.

P. 14

INTRODUCTION 15

days, must be sought out and quickened into life, as the only means of awakening an interest which has fallen asleep, they are on more debatable ground. Music cannot stand still. Its whole essence consists in finding short cuts to old routes. In the process it does many things that are afterwards seen to be regrettable; they die off, that is all, and tle art lives on. The whole of our musical history is full of instances of this. We can appreciate the pope's prohibition of the sharp leading note or Mendelssohn's annoyance at the methods of Berlioz by considering the sort of reception we gave to Wagner's 'substantive' sevenths and chromatic harmony, now become commonplaces, and are giving to French whole-tones and to German pure dissonance. Life is too short to spend wholly in living in the past, and human needs are too imperative to be satisfied by proxy. It is inevitable that the multiple means of expression which Indian music has at its command will be reduced in number, that the fine edges of them will be worn down, and that the real needs will be expressed more simply. For, after all, a man sings because it is a splendid thing to do, and because he cannot help it; and when that is really the case he is not going to be fettered by obsolescent rules. The process of simplification has already begun. The Carnatic system frankly ignores the niceties (examined in Chapter IV) of intonation. In northern India a number of songs are described as 'in a mixed Rāg' or 'not in a Rāg' and yet are accepted and enjoyed. The preponderance of common time (Adi, Tintal) and of a (Rüpak) over all the other kinds put together can hardly have been as great in the days when the system of thirty-five Tūls was invented. The ' new style' of drumming ignores the 'drum-words' and tends to simplify the elaboration of cross-rhythm. It is all very sad; but there can be only one remedy-to accept the conditions and to make music first in spite of them, and after- wards on the strength of them. Music which is not built upon the immediate instincts and needs of the people is no music at all; they must make the formal details of their music just as they make their language-by actually singing and speaking. It is as far from the truth to say that 'modes' and 'times' must remain in their primitive condition as to say that poetry of the twentieth century must be in Chaucer's English, or a Bengali love-song in Vedic Sanskrit.

16 INTRODUCTION

But there are other eonditions which need not be accepted. If the rulers of native states realized what a death-blow they were dealing at their own art by supporting or even allowing a brass band, if the clerk in a government offiee understood the indignity he was putting on a song by buying the gramophone which grinds it out to him after his day's labour, if the Mohammedan 'star' singer knew that the harmonium with which he aceom- panies himself was ruining his chief asset, his musical ear, and if the girl who learns the pianoforte could see that all the progress she made was as sure a step towards her own denationalization as if she erossed the blaek water and never returned-they would pause before they laid sueh sacrilegious hands on Saraswatī. Excuses may be made for such praetiees, but there is one objection fatal to them all; the instruments are borrowed. We do not hear much about Roman musie because it was so easy for them to get Greek slaves; and the importation of the gavotte and the minuet killed the English morris-daneers. To dismiss from India these foreign instruments would not be to cheek the natural, but to prune away an unnatural growth.

CHAPTER I

A MUSICAL DIARY

THE following pages give an account of musical experiences during a tour through India extending over half a dozen months of 1910-11. The route, determined by other than musical reasons, lay through the Central Provinces, Madras, Bangalore, Mysore, Trichur (exhibition), Travancore, Tanjore, Calcutta, Allahabad (exhibition), Dehra Dun, Lahore, Jhelum, Bhavnagar, Poona. It is hoped that the reader will excuse the use of the first personal pronoun to distinguish a traveller's actual experience from infor- mation otherwise obtained. It must be understood that though many of these melodies were in queer scales, no attempt has been made, beyond an occasional superscript #, b, or b,1 where the effect was characteristic, to represent niceties of intonation. Where such signs are not ap- pended it does not necessarily mean that the songs were in the normal scale; perhaps the singers were finding their voice and the initial vagaries were not worth recording, or the tune only came once or twice-though generally it came a great many times-or perhaps I was not attending. It would have been good to have been able to note the exact pitch in each case; but the absence of the proper means made this, except in a few instances, impossible. A phonograph cannot be carried on the person or unlimbered and brought into action in half a minute, like a camera ; there are also conditions, such as distance of the sound, or movement of the producer (e. g. in dancing) with attendant dust, which preclude its employment altogether. Secondly, as it is impossible for the European reader to reproduce the local colour which is imparted by curiosities of grace-note or of intonation, it is unnecessary to trouble him with them at this stage. And, lastly in attacking

I They mean in each case an alteration of less than a semitone, and they are in force, like ordinary accidentals, only till the end of the bar. 1495 C

18 A MUSICAL DIARY

a new subject, as for Europeans, in spite of Captain Day's excellent book, this must be called, it is better to treat intonation by itself (see Chapter IV). It is but little, in any case, of language, whether spoken or chanted, that symbols can recreate for us ; and when, as here, the choice lies between symbols which falsify but are under- stood and symbols which tell the truth but are not readily intelligible, there is no doubt which must be adopted to convey a first general impression. The very simple melodies here recorded may seem to some too trivial to have been worth while. But if art is 'doing common things in an uncommon way', it seems clear that we must be familiar with the common things before we can appreciate the uncommon way of doing them. It is just for lack of this, of familiarity with such simple things as nursery rhymes and games, that we often fail to understand the poetry of a foreign country. It does not, however, occur to us that the same is true of music, because European music, which is all that most of us know, is cosmopolitan, and to understand a foreign composer it is seldom necessary to study the Folk-song of his country. He is using a familiar language, but doing unfamiliar things with it. But as soon as we leave Europe the language of music is not familiar to us, and our first object must be to learn it. We have to be humble, and begin with a ' simple exercise' book. One caution with regard to these tunes. It would be a mistake to play them on a keyed instrument : they should be played on the violin, or sung, or whistled, or merely thought. Not only because there is then a hope of their being rendered in natural intonation and of getting the sharp edges of the tones rounded by some sort of portamento, but also because the temperament of a keyed instru- ment, in Europe the piano, in India the harmonium, has a unique power of making an unharmonized melody sound invincibly com- monplace. In all the melodies the tonic is C unless otherwise stated. It may be asked what decided in each case which note was the tonic. At the time of hearing the song there was seldom any doubt about it, and the doubtful cases are those for which no special note of the tonic was made at the time. What exactly decided the point at the time is a little difficult to particularize : it was something almost personal-just as when we read a book written by a man

A MUSICAL DIARY 19

whom we actually know we get a better idea of his meaning than others would who do not know him. Tonality depends upon such things as the particular turn of phrase, the repetitions, the accom- panying words, and these may, of course, be reproduced on paper. But it is, further, suggested in the extent to which particular notes are made essential or accidental, the exact amount of strength given to a leading note or to an appoggiatura, the emphasis in the accom- panying percussion, minute retardations and anticipations, grace- notes at particular places, even the mere expression of face and hand-and most of these defy notation. The sum total of all these guides us, without our quite knowing how, to the general plan of the music, and thereby to its tonic. For a tonic is a tendency rather than a fact. All we could say of our own music is that in propor- tion as it exists for its own sake, and not for the sake of some other thing-words, or situation, or programme-it has a tendency to centre round some one note. Harmony can mark this note with exceptional precision; and we are apt therefore in looking for the tonic in an unharmonized melody to supply those harmonies mentally, and so to bring what we hope to find. In the Arab tunes, Nos. 52-4, for instance, it is impossible to say without having heard a good deal of Arabian music what they would regard as the tonic.

Except in street cries and sailors' chanties-the former in order to make the voice carry and to secure prompt recognition, the latter to ensure precision of movement-we hardly know in Europe that melodic impulse which finds vent in the occupation songs 1 of the East. The contrast of the two worlds is epitomized for us even before we actually land at Bombay. The A.B. seaman jolts out in a gruff practical voice his Líghts are bríght and áll's wéll! and the Lascar follows with a smooth, dreamy J=80. b Ex. 2. Khūb dekh-ta hai (Good watch is kept) It is an allegory. On the one hand, the essentials in the fewest possible words, with stress and energy, in matter of fact tones; on 1 See Karl Bücher, Arbeit und Rhythmus, Teubner, Leipzig, 1909. C 2

20 A MUSICAL DIARY

the other, pitch substituted for stress, a generalization for a state- ment of fact, and through it all a suggestion that Time has no meaning as opposed to Eternity, with the implication that we are in Eternity all the time, though we are apt to forget it. Neither street cries nor chanties are common in India in the sense in which we understand them. The typical mode of selling wares is not to take them to the customer, but to let him come to them, sit down, and open an interminable bargain. A small amount of coolie labour requires concerted action it is true, and that some- times necessitates rhythmical motion : but the typical method of work is individual-innumerable baskets, buckets, bamboo poles, contribute their quota, but severally; many shoulders lift the dhooly (palanquin) or many heads the grand piano, but the feet break step; many hundreds of hands man the ropes of the god's car, but the effort, at the instigation of voice or even whip of perambu- lating priests, is spasmodic. At any rate, I heard very few songs intended as rhythmical accompaniment to effort, and seem only to have recorded one. Six men were on a roof lifting a block of building stone. The foreman sang the solo.

Solo. Chorus. Ex. 3.

Ar ju - re ja-na-wa-ra jā Ar ju - re ja-na-wa-ra jā 1

The pull was on the last note of the chorus. A common use of song is to give words of command to domesticated animals. At a well at Poona the water was drawn by a skin let down by two ropes. When the skin reached the water one rope was slacked and the mouth of the skin opened. The cattle marched slowly down an incline, pulling on the ropes, and, as soon as the contents of the skin had been emptied into the trough which carried the water out over a neighbouring field, backed again up the incline a little slower still. When the well-man started them down he sang Ex. 2

1 The spelling is phonetic. 3 When the superscript accidental is in brackets it means that the note was sung sometimes one way, sometimes the other.

A MUSICAL DIARY 21

and when, after a minute's interval he backed them up again, he sang Ex. 5.

This process went on to my knowledge for three hours, and probably many more. In the neighbourhood of Madras the wells are worked by the picotta. A bamboo pole is balanced crosswise on another; at one end is a weight, at the other a bucket. A man stands at the junction of the poles and throws his weight against the full bucket. Here there is no rhythmic motion to emphasize, and there are no animals to direct; it is merely a question of half a dozen hours and hundreds of bucketfuls. I was unable in a short stay to find a man actually working and singing; so one was persuaded to come to me and sing, a very different thing. This was his melody. The C was slightly sharp; the intervals C-B and B-A seemed to be about equal. d .= 60. Ex. 6.

Get up on the picotta, Pillaiyar1 made of cow dung, Pillaiyar made of mud. I offer rice, cocoanut, cake, wheat, grain. (counts buckets) . . 9, 10, 11 .. Have I come here, O maiden, only to sleep ? The fields all wet are ready to receive seedlings. Get bullocks ready to plough, Reddish brown, with white horns, The central bullock black, with white horns. Harness four together, Drive them over the wet fields ; After the ground is prepared The seedlings will grow on the bank of the lake. (counts) . . 27,28 The river is dammed, There are vegetables in the gardens And mangoes on the trees ;

1 Pillaiyar = Ganesh, the belly god.

22 A MUSICAL DIARY

I mix these with wheat and curd. I have a long distance to go, But I am happy with you here my dear. Where is your husband ? (counts) . . 63,64 He is not to be found here. He married me and went on board ship. If I am a chaste woman, The ship will return with my husband. (counts) . . . 101, 102 My beloved had sore eyes, He was jealous and avaricious, (counts) . . 116, 117, &c., &c. Melodies like these are appropriate to particular occupations, and new words are fitted to them from time to time. For the tradi- tional occupations a new tune is seldom invented. The tune for each occupation has a special name. In Behār, every mill-song is a jatsār, every cowherd's song a chāchar, and so on.1 But one comes across tunes in the making from beggars, fakirs, reciters. Some boy acrobats at Bombay gradually formed their petitions into

Ex. 7. We have played and sung to you ; let our words be heard.

On tour with an Indian civilian we inspected a village school. After the boys had gone throngh their gymnastics, the ' monkey- leap', the ' crocodile crawl', and the like, we received the pungent and in my case vicarious tribute of marigold wreaths, and the school- master recited a Sanskrit poem of his own composition in honour of the presiding dignitary. Beginning with a mere rise and fall of the voice it settled gradually into a set melody.

Tonic G. ? Ex. 8

Fakirs at the annual fair at Allahabad, the junction of the two rivers, evolved :

1 See an article by G. A. Grierson in the J. R. A. S., vol. xviii, p. 210.

A MUSICAL DIARY 23

d = 60. Solo. 1 EX. C 9. Gan-gā Ja-mu-nā tī - ra - the ka- ra - le Rām-ghāta as-an- ān Ha-ri

Chorus.

Rā - ma mi - la Rām-ghāta ās - an - ān Ha - ri Rā - ma mi-la.

To the Ganges and Jumna pilgrimage make; at the Rämghat bathing the name of the god Rāma you have got (i.e. if you bathe you will get).

A beggar woman one hundred yards off had a variant of this:

Ex. 10.

A little further on some boy beggars sang :

Ex. 11.

This turned out however to be, apparently, a rendering of a song which was being sung at the time by a celebrated singer at the exhibition, of which two versions were:

(1) 0= 56. Ex. 12.

(2) =150.

and further developments :

3 0 .= 48.

(4)

so that it does not do to be too sure that every beggar is a composer also.

1 The italicized a's are inorganic; they are freely inserted for vocalization.

24 A MUSICAL DIARY

Half a mile away two beggar girls were singing words of which I only made out Sārīnā, at the beginning and end :

J=100. Ex. 18

Sā - rī - nã Sā - rī - nã

Sā - rī - nã

Two coolies at Mussouri, driving ponies up the hill with loads, answered cach other with

d=90. Ex. 14

80 Ex. 15

There is a slight resemblance in these, as regards melodic figure, to a tune sung by some boys coming home from their work across the Maidan at Caleutta-though that was rather a song from lack of oeeupation : d=75. Ex. 16.

At Bangalore men and women were pulling a roller over a new made road. The voices were rough; the solo enthusiastic but of poor tone, and the chorus consequently took some time to settle down to the tune. Several of the men punetuated the first of the songs with boos and poohs to represent the drum at the places marked *; they were started by the man who seraped the mud off the roller. (Alternate four and six-bar sections.)

J .= 60. Solo. Ex. 17. &c.

A MUSICAL DIARY 25

Chorus.

= 84. Ex. 18.

2bn

Women.

Men.

Chorus.

Solo. Chorus.

Ex. 19. &c.

The words of No. 19 were: Draupadī, wife of the Pändava king, disguised herself as a beggar to get paddy seed for her race to plant in the wilderness. She was afraid of her enemies and cousins, the Kauravas. If she was caught her race would have to spend another twelve years in the wilderness. If gods fare so, what shall we poor mortals do ? The next day, after much searching and delay, I found a woman who was famous for her songs at rägi-grinding. She sat with a friend on the ground before a large mortar, and each stirred with her pestle sometimes in time with the song, sometimes not.1

Ex. 20

(Tamil.) Think of Rama. Do not waste time. It is short. Always sing of Rāma. 1 See illustration, p. 62.

26 A MUSICAL DIARY

Ex. 25-5 21.

About Krishna. He used to plague the girls. They complained to his mother. His mother told him to be better behaved.

Ex. 22

Sin not; or you will go to hell (Naraka).

Ex. 23.

(Sanskrit.) Rama is the only true God whom every one thinks of.

Ex. 24.

(Canarese.) We have several avatars. This is a world of pain, there is no happiness here. Therefore do meritorious deeds.

Ex. 25

A Rajah's son sees a beauty in the street and offers her a lakh of rupees.

Ex. 26

About a wicked Brahman who married a Pariah girl.

With the last dozen songs or so we have begun to cross the rather shadowy line which divides Occupation Songs from ordinary Folk-song. It was not till I had been some months in India that I found the opportunity I had been waiting for of overhearing a folk-melody. I awoke at Madras, about 5.30 a.m., to the sound of singing; it was next door, and seemed to come from a woman about her house- hold duties. In the dim light I scribbled down the following :

A MUSICAL DIARY 27

Ex. 27 3 3 3 3

3

W

(b)

3

Most of the phrases were repeated many times, as many as ten ; a few only once or twice. The variations were introduced piece- meal; both sections were seldom varied at the same time, though they are shown so here for brevity. The flattening of the D appeared to take place only when there was no mordent, and not always then. I don't know how long she had been going on; what is given took about half an hour to sing. This humble melody, improvised without shyness on the one hand or any idea of showing off on the other, may serve as an introduction to the tribal songs which follow. It shows the way in which they were varied and expanded, or would have been if there had been time; and the bare themes which are set down in the following pages must be imagined as having been so treated. The rapid succession of variations made it often difficult to note the tune at all, especially as regards that very elusive point, rhythm. The earlier melodies may, like eldest sons, be to some extent experi- ments; but nothing has been given that I did not satisfy myself was substantially correct. The question of quarter-tones will be dealt with later; any conclusions that may be drawn from these examples as to the general structure of folk-melody will not be

28 A MUSICAL DIARY

vitiated by assuming them all to have been as they are written, and as in fact many of them appeared to be sung, in the (untempered) tones and semitones of the European just scale. From Nagpur, where my tour began, I went to Warsa, a few hours distant by train, where a party of Maria Gonds were to march in from Moholi, a couple of dozen miles away. Owing to some misunderstanding they failed to appear that day at all, and arrived only at nine the next morning at the station, our train, the only one in the day, being due at ten.1 We found there a erowd of twenty- two under Rainu Patel of Chingli (east of Moholi), a man of fifty, with a striking faee full of humour and charaeter, the flat nose and thiek lips of the Gond, and a thiek-set figure on bow legs. He marshalled his pupils and divided them for singing into two parties of ten and twelve. These songs, being the first of the kind I had heard, could not be noted with any aceuracy. The words of three of them were:

1. The bird is crying. Why is the bird crying? It is crying with grief for its mate. Nowhere can she find her mate. The friend is in grief for the friend. She does not find the friend here. In this country he is not found. She must go to the lower country and seek him. If she will go far then she will find him. 2. Quickly, sister, make the pej (gruel). For twenty or thirty years you have not asked me to make the pej: why do you ask me now ? Where are you going ? I am taking the black bullock to the bazar. If you go I will go too. No, you must not go. If you go they will say ' See, the brother and sister go together'. It is like a man and wife going together, and that will be a scandal. No, you must not come. 3. The clonds look like rain. There are big drops falling. Rain has fallen in the upper country; the nalas are full. Everywhere there is rain. Dhīmār (boatman), bring quickly your boat. What pay will you give me ? I will give you the bracelet on my arm. I am not married ; what use is a bracelet to me ? I have no money in my hand. I will go with (i. e. marry) you. Launch your boat. They next arranged themselves in a close paeked circle for

1 I mention this not to reproach themn or the Malguzar (village headman) who organized the meeting and no doubt did his best, but to show by a typical instance the sort of difficulties, over and above the mistakes one made oneself, which have rendered these records necessarily imperfect.

A MUSICAL DIARY 29

dancing, with Rainu sometimes in the middle, sometimes prowling round outside and exhorting individuals. In the second dance they linked hands behind each others backs; in the third they broke from their circular into a serpentine movement, and looked like a section of a giant centipede crawling about. Most of the dancing consisted, here as elsewhere, merely in revolving slowly 'widdershins' with a shuffling gait, bending their bodies towards the centre and clapping their hands in rhythm. The interesting point in the dancing was the treatment of the blank beat (khāli). Thus, putting R for right foot, L for left, F for forwards, and B for backwards, the ordinary rhythms were danced thus : Three time 1 2 (3), 1 2 (3), R F LF R B, LF R F LB Four time 1 2 (3) 4, 1 2 (3) 4, R F LF R B LF, RF LF R B LF Five time 1 2 (3 4 (5), 1 2 (3) 4 (5), RF LF R B LF R B, LF RF L B R F L B

And similarly with Six time 1 (2) 3 (4) 5 6 (our 2, not §) Seven time 1 2 (3) 4 (5) 6 (7) Another dance of which I was too busy noting the tune to watch the feet was in slow tripleted seven rhythm.

W Ex .= 28.

It was full of grace notes of course, but as most of the performers chose their own graces, and their own moments to apply them, it was impossible to distinguish more than two which enjoyed a consensus of opinion. Then followed an interval for putting rice on their dhols. These are barrel-shaped drums with terminal diameters of seven and eight inches respectively. Boiled rice mixed with wood-ash was applied to the larger end,1 thereby giving more resonance to the tone and lowering the pitch by anything up to an octave. They did not tune the dhols to the same note by tightening the braces, nor did they aim at any definite interval between the two ends of the dhol, 1 The lump so affixed is generally made of flour (ātā), and goes by that name. Iron filings are added when obtainable, for greater resonance.

30 A MUSICAL DIARY

by the application of the rice. They brought no wind or strings; they would have played the bamboo flute, but ' would have had to makc one', and there was no time. They then formed in a large circle, each with his drum slung, with two peacock feathers rising straight up from his pagri, and a bunch that looked like grass with beans or pods at the end hanging down behind. Between man and man was a distance of two feet, which each kept accurate by touching his right-hand neighbour during the silent beats of the rhythm, beating in fact the silent beat on him. Rainu now danced amongst his men, shouting directions every now and then. He was distinguished not only by his absence of ornament, but by his abundant good humour and zest. The dance began with a wild prolonged shriek; this was followed by a steady monotonous beat on the drums as they walked round, apparently to settle themselves at their proper distances. Next they adopted a stealthy crouching step, all eyeing the centre, to a four-rhythm. The next dance, in three-rhythm, six beats, with the fifth and later on the sixth also omitted, or rather supplied only on a single drum, showed a limping gait. These were wedding dances, and without singing: the only sound beyond the pattering and shuffling of feet in the deep sand being an occasional whoop after the manner of Scotch reels. Then there was a funeral dance : nine men facing another row of nine and advancing as they retreated, and vice versa, with linked arms. This should have been at night; and they protested that it was 'a foolish dance' in the garishness of day. They chanted, without drums. At Raipur a Gond played the bamboo flute (bansri), an instrument with the tone of the clarinet, and blown at the end but without reed : it had six holes covered by the left finger tips and right knuckle joints. A characteristic of these tunes was the very long crescendoed tonic. Assuming the C to be in tune the higher notes were all a little flat, the F most so, and the lower one a little sharp; the C itself sharpened a good deal under the overblowing of the crescendo.

Phonogram. Allegro. Ex. 629345- 29. 04444

b b b b

P.30 PLATE 2

Maria Gonds. Circular dance; central figure, Rainu. Gonds and Kanwars. Slow dance, with anklets.

Malyas dancing. Malayan women dancing.

A MUSICAL DIARY 31

b

b C

b

Ex 80.

A Kanwar also played the singara, a sort of attenuated kit. It had two strings which the player tuned to C and F#, and then began to play. I asked if they were right, and he altered them with a smile to C and G and said they were right now. The G was used as drone, so that the tune was below it; each section closed on two G's. They had also a slow dance with bells fastened below the knee like morris-dancers. (See illustration, preceding page.) At Trichur (west coast) there was an exhibition of local indus- tries, and tribal musicians had been brought in. The Malyas, from the spurs of the neighbouring hills, sang :

Ex. 81.

3 3

'A handsome girl makes her appearance with joy.'

and two of them alternately :

Ex. 82. &c. r

'A handsome maiden became a mother and had a son. She had a dream' -but it appeared to pass the wit of my interpreter to say what manner of dream it was.

In this there was one short passage in fourths which however only occurred once, and was gone before I could note it. It is impossible

32 A MUSICAL DIARY

of course to get any particular passage repeated unless you know and can ask for the words of it: they repeated the whole song by request, but the passage did not recur. In their dance the left foot, slightly advanced, came on the beat, and the weight of the body, a little bowed, was placed on it. Then the leg, and with a serpentine movement the whole body, straightened again.1

Ex. 33.

Towards the end there was more action; the feet flung higher, the right foot turned out, the body facing alternately right and left, and so on. Then a pas seul. The dancer could not get his accompaniment (a single singer) to his satisfaction for a long time, and they wrangled as to how the tune went. The Kadars who were to sing next were sitting by; and one of these broke in with a wildly different tune as a suggestion ; but the Malya was not in the least put out, and got his way in the end, which was this,

Ex. 34

sung alternately by himself and his accompanist. It was now the Kadars' turn. One played the kuzhal.2 He had great trouble in getting his reed to speak the tonic (C) properly, and cut several before he was satisfied; the Malya dancer did not fail to note his distress. It is curious how hard it was to arrive at the scale of this instrument. The player had no notion of playing a single note by itself, he invariably played a grace with it, showing how inseparable grace is from even the simplest phrase. It was achieved at last by my holding down his fingers in succession. A phrase which frequently occurred in his playing was :

Ex .= 35.

1 See illustration, p. 30. 2 Pronounce, küral. Kurāl is the name in Tamil for the first note of the scale (Sa).

A MUSICAL DIARY 33

Two Kadars sang :

Ex. 36.

'A maiden chewed betel nut, and walked gaily round the streets of Coimbatore.'

Ex. 37

Maddale.

A wedding song : the drum was the maddale of p. 42. Next came the Boatmen of Ernakulam, called Velans.1 First a long song with six variations-' seven ways' of singing, he called it, I. Ex. 38.

II.

III.

Hand- clapping.

IV

VI

VII.

the first four minor, the last three major. No. VII got faster at each repetition. The general sense was : Invocation to a deity to inspire the singer ; description of a town ; of a palace; of a temple;

1 Vel- rhymes with 'pale'. 1495 D

34 A MUSICAL DIARY

in praise of the Rajah of Cochin (who had opened the exhibition); rowing in a boat. Fragments of other boatmen's songs were:

Ex. 39.

Ex. 40

Two Panans now appeared. This tribe formed in old days the band of the Rajah, but has sunk now into the position of an inferior caste. They are recognized magicians. An astrologer settles what is the form (murti) of the demon, and the Panans are called in to exorcise it. They perform the exorcism (teyattam) with drum and pipe; occasionally they wear masks. Their pollution distance, that, namely, within which they may not approach a Brahman, is 36 feet. The usual time of year for exorcism is July and August, when demons are apt to be specially prevalent and malicious, when in fact the rains have developed a certain amount of malaria. A man and his wife sang alternately with a chakravādya1 and a triangle, which divided the eight quavers respectively as 3+2+3 and 2+2+4, thus:

Ex. Drun. 4 41. Triangle. 4

Two other of their tunes are these: Two Pāņan men. (Phonogram.) Tala. p Chorus. Sol Ex. 42.

Dr.

'Circular tambourine', 9 inches diameter, 2 inches deep; the laces cross the back, and are held in the left hand; see illustration, p. 42.

A MUSICAL DIARY 35

Chorus. Solo.

(Phonogram ends.)

Panan woman. (Phonogram.)

Ex. 43. 2

D 2

36 A MUSICAL DIARY

They are quite different from the neighbouring tunes; both have a large compass, ten or eleven notes, and both oscillate from tonic to dominant, each section closing on the tonic. The woman also definitely closcd her tune on the tonic, making a pause, which an Indian seldom does; and it is rare to find instances of such disjunct motion as in bar 4, where the dominant chord is distinctly formed twice. Lastly the arrangement of bars in Ex. 43 is elaborate-4+ 3+4+2+3+3+3+3; and the quick tripleted rhythm unusual. Next day I started for Paddikad, ten uncomfortable miles by ekka. Malayans (different from Malyas) were to come in to the Traveller's Bungalow and receive their annual present from the Sirkar of cloth, rice, coco-nuts, coco-nut oil, chilis, and tobacco. They sang, with drum. First a boy of ten as solo with a chorus of men and women :

Ex. 44

Ex. 45.

Ex. : 46

Ex. 47.

Then the men alone :

Ex. 48.

Maddale.

EX. C 49.

Lastly the women danced. Alternate feet were placed behind, the body inclined to that side, and the corresponding hand made a motion as if sowing paddy 1: meanwhile the men sang

Ex 50.

Of course all these skeleton themes were considerably varied. Asto the thirds, though they oscillated a good deal between major and 1 See illustration, p. 30.

A MUSICAL DIARY 37

minor, there was little doubt by the time the tune was finished as to which was intended. Most of the tunes quickened towards the end. The performers clapped the time; but as they differed from one another it was not easy, on one or two occasions, to make out whether they were beating 2+2, 2+3, or 3+3. Probably Ex. 44 was intended for 2+3, but the drag of the chorus soon settled it into a 3+3. At Alleppey, further down the coast, there were Hindu boatmen landing Arabs at the pier. The boatmen sang :

Ex. 51.

The Arabs Tonic? Ex. R 52.

b b

Tonic ? Ex. 53

Tonic ? Ex. Chorus. Solo. Chorus.

54

quite a different scale. These were short phrases between the strokes. From Quilon to Trivandrum is a series of lakes and canals formed by the silting, in early times, of the alluvium of five rivers. Alleppey is about half way ; and the method of cultivation there is this. The fields, surrounded by low banks, are, during the rains, inundated, and coated with fresh soil. The water is then pumped out, and paddy sown. Practically a large part of the country is most of the year under water of shallow depth, and locomotion is almost entirely by boat. This lends itself to singing. I had two opportunities. Once, in an open boat with four men. I was innocent of their language and had no interpreter, so that I was unable to tell what view they were taking of their passenger, who is usually the topic of their song. I had merely armed myself with the Malayalam for 'sing' and 'repeat'.

38 A MUSICAL DIARY

Ex 55

Ex. 56. -0

h Ex. 57.

Most of these began with a short colloquy in monotone between a soloist and a chorus. The abrupt ending of Ex. 58 was character-

Chorus. Ex. 58.

istic. Sometimes, not always, the chorus would come in with the last phrase, snapped out with emphasis. In Ex. 59 the B and E

Ex. 59.

were distinctly flat, the D appreciably so. The whole gave the impression of three approximately tones, with tonic C. Other tunes were :

EX. O 60.

Ex. 61.

Ex. 62.

The other opportunity was on a night journey by valam1 from Trivandrum to Quilon. A ralam is a covered boat in which you may balance yourself during the day on a semicircular roof and watch a slowly moving panorama of palms, Chinese fishing nets, wheel pumps, and naked children, and at night recline inside making such aecount as you may with heat, smells, and mosquitos, or other inmates. There were two boatmen, punting; one in the bows with a bass, the other in the stern with a tenor voice. Each kept his own pitch aecurately : their tonies were a fourth apart, though for readiness of comparison all are given here with the same tonic. 1 Pronounce, wăllăm.

A MUSICAL DIARY 39

Ex. 63.

Ex. 64

Ex. = 65.

Ex. 66.

Ex. 67.

Ex. 68

Ex. 69.

Ex. 70.

Ex. 71.

The songs were difficult to catch as they were seldom repeated, and wcre apt to be broken off suddenly and frequently with an 'illa !' as a boat loomed ahead in the darkness, or an 'irava !' as it glided past. In Ex. 66 the three D's, so marked, and these only, were distinetly sharp every time. The songs are given in the order in which they were scribbled down by candle light, the different voices being shown by the clefs. Later on I heard two Negapatam boatmen. As I had succumbed to the climate I was obliged to have them to my bedside, in a railway waiting-room; the novelty of the place acted unfavourably on the singers, and the whistling and shunting on the listener.

40 A MUSICAL DIARY

Solo.

Ex. 72. Chorus.

Coda (in unison.)

When the sails are spread we pray to Allah and Mahomet.

There is an interest attaching to this. In Bourgault Ducoudray's Mélodies de Basse-Bretagne on p. 21 is a tune ' Le Sabotier'.

Solo. Chorus. Solo. Chorus. Ex. 73.

It seems possible that, since French sailors are chiefly Bretons, these boatmen may have heard this tune at the French port of Pondicherry which is not far from Negapatam; if so, their treatment of it is interesting; they have smoothed out the articulations of its rhythm, and bridged the leaps of the melody.

Ex. 74

Lifting by derrick.

Ex. 75.

Carrying passengers through the surf.

Ex. 76

A MUSICAL DIARY 41

Unloading cargo. The superfluous fifth bar in No. 76 which dislocates the rhythm was really there.

Ex. 77.

Sung in honour of the captain when he comes to Singapore. The streets of the town have been cleared for him.

Trivandrum. A caste of Trivandrum, the Pudarans, sang the following, called Kavidachindu, in praise of the god Subrahmanya, otherwise called Skanda or Murga.

Allegro. Ex. = 78.

Ex. 79.

1st 2nd. Ex. 80.

The two versions of Ex. 81, of which the first is like the overture to Zampa, were from the same lips. The three omitted bars, thirteen

42 A MUSICAL DIARY

1st version. 1st 2nd.

2nd version. 1st. 2nd.

instead of sixteen, gave a lift to the melody of Ex. 82. The two

Ex. 82.

1st version. EX

83

2nd version.

-6-

versions of Ex. 83 were from different singers. They are probably in seven-rhythm, but in the absence of any clear indication only what appeared to be the time values of the notes has been given. The At sounded more piquant than the Ab; as the flattening is obviously only a case of Musica ficta it does not appear in the signature. Two Pulaiyar women, shy and tearful, sang

Ex. 84 &c.

The second woman began invariably by skipping a beat. This was the only song they knew. It was what they sang when they were tilling paddy, to this effeet :- 'We were onee slaves. There was a fire on the estate and the landlord stopped it with a spear. The fire got into the fort, and the landlord's men stopped it with their

A MUSICAL DIARY 43

pistols and shields. His women came out and stopped it with their broomsticks.' Next two Sudras1 from the Maharajah's brass band sang

Ex. 85.

'in the Pulaiyar style', whatever that may have meant (the scale is tonal). They spoke English, and one of them gave me some information about ' two-four and six-eight' time. They also sang some Sopanam songs, i. e. those sung on the steps of the temple : Voice.

Ex. 86. Udukku.

Talam.

EX 87.

The udukku is a small drum, shaped like an hour-glass, held in the right hand so that the squeeze of the fingers tightens the braces and sharpens the tone within the limits of about a sixth. A pea at the end of a string swings from the middle and strikes either drum-head. The tālam, lit. time-instrument, was a pair of shallow eups of bell metal, about three inches in diameter. This song bears marks of genuineness, and the three rhythms and the sug- gestion of harmony are interesting; but the other is not very distantly related, except perhaps for its seven-bar rhythm, to the strains of the Salvation Army, which I heard that evening outside in the bazar. A regular Sopanam singer also came. He sang in some of the five Rāgams peculiar to Travancore : 1 The fourth of the four castes of India-Brahmans, Kshatriyas, Vaisyas, Sudras.

44 A MUSICAL DIARY

Padi. Puraniva. Ex .: 88.

Indisha. Indulam.

Kanakurinchi. h b b

As far as the mere notes go, there is nothing in these that might not be heard elsewhere in the peninsula, except that, whether intentionally or not, he sang the F, G, and upper C (especially the F) decidedly flat. The 'predominant' notes (see Chap. IV) are distinguished by semibreves. The two commonest were said to be Indisha and Padi. This group of modes special to one place is interesting as proving, what the names of many Rāgs also bear witness of, the strictly local origin of all Rāg, just as the harmonic minor is very common in Swedish songs, the Lydian in Icelandic, and the Aeolian and Mixolydian in Irish songs. The most primitive tribe I came across were the Kānikas. A company of fifteen or so had marched in over night from two villages twenty miles away in the Ghäts. Small, wiry, pictures of men. They had had no food since the previous morning, as the shops were all closed when they arrived late at night. They brought with them bows and arrows and kokkaras. This is a flat piece of metal, eight inches by six, with serrated edges, rolled into a cylinder with the edges turned up. Along these a tenpenny nail is rubbed furiously. I offered one of them four annas if he would hit a tree twenty-five yards off; he missed it by a yard. Apparently they shoot hares, not at such distances, but by lying in wait near the hare's form. They told me, 'we live among tigers and elephants. We are not afraid. We say "shoo" to a tiger, and he goes away. We speak the truth, there is no need to tell a lie.' They are loyal subjects of the Maharajah. They address him as ' thou ', and would do anything for him. They live clean lives and treat their women well : there was not a degraded face amongst them. After they had been fed they gave their performance. Seven of them took part, each provided with a kokkara. On this the tunes

A MUSICAL DIARY 45

Ex. 89.

were accompanied in trochees. The headman of the village picked up his kokkara, bowed his head over it, and murmured a prayer. Another, likewise, and another followed, scraping them up and down with growing excitement. The leader recited a list of twenty or thirty divinities,1 in no particular order, repeating some more than others. After five minutes or so one of the men began to tremble violently, and holding his kokkara with both hands straight out in front of him tapped it rhythmically on the ground. The leader was the next to tremble, and his access was more violent. He flung himself about, his pagri fell off and his hair fell down. A third leapt, when the fit was on him, from his sitting posture about three feet into the air, and dropped again into his original cross- legged position. The whole service was interspersed with shouts and yells from individual performers. When it was over the mantizomenoi bent forward sobbing vehemently, and took a minute to recover. One felt ashamed to have been merely an interested spectator amongst so much sincerity. At Tanjore I heard some 'bandy'2 men. They sing at night, as they drive along, to let the dacoits, of which there are plenty there, know that they are awake (and in a position therefore to return blow for blow). One of them had been beaten, and showed a mark on his forehead in proof of it : the other said he had been stoned. The feature of their tunes (Exs. 90, 91) was the long note Ex. 90.

Ex. 91.

of indefinite length; the words were not given, as unfit for pub- lication. In the temple at Madura I heard the nāgasūram (N.

1 Some of the names were Rāma, Hari, Harichandra, Shiva; and local deities, Sāsthan, Amman, Amcala. 2 Covered cart.

46 A MUSICAL DIARY

India shahnai), a kind of oboe with a very loud tone; it was unbearable close, but sounded majestic and rather awe-inspiring at a little distance in the long galleries, as it did blown on the breezes from the top of the Trichinopoly rock. The illustration is of two players at Tanjore; they took it in turns to play chanter and drone. When the second was asked to sureease from droning, the first said he felt 'like a ship without a rudder'. At Caleutta I heard a Maratha gipsy, from the Circus. He belonged to Tasgaon in the Kolhapur district. These gipsies are the bards of the Maratha empire, now thrown out of employ. This man was an aerobat. He sang two Povādas:

Porāda (chivalric song of 1795). (In tempo and style of Bonnie Dundee.) Ex. 92. By his fate the Ni-zam of Hy-der . a - bad Be-thoughthim to march a-gainst

Poon - a. His wives'and his cour-ti - ers' fa - ces were glad, They said,' You will con-quer it

soon' - a So he sum-moned his gen - er - als all And his tall cam-el-mes-sen-gers

count-ed, His gen-er-als came at his call And his cam-els were ve-ry well .

mount-ed. And he said 'Be-fore this year is old . If it may not well be

W

soon - er, With our guus, men, and hors-es and gold We shall march and cap-ture

Poon -a.' With his guns and his gold his hors . es and men did their du -ty.

The ti - ger - Ma - ra . tha can kill at a blow, And man and horse lay

ral En tan do. 144 2

low. And his guus and his gold were our boot - y.

PLATE 3

Kashmīri bīn-player. (Taken by Ananda K. Coomaraswamy).

Nagasaram-players, Tanjore.

P. 46

A MUSICAL DIARY 47

Povāda. Tonic C. Ex. 93.

Tonic Eb.

Tonic C.

Concerning the expedition of Pendreh, military officer of Kolhapur, who marched against Pasgaon and was defeated by a Brahman, Patwardhan.

This should be compared with Ex. 99. The change of key is most unusual, and does not appear to be recognized at all in the art-music. It is possible to suppose the tonic is the same through- out-Eb in Ex. 93 and C in Ex. 99. But against this is the very definite close in C of Ex. 93, and the exact correspondence of the two sections of Ex. 99. They must stand, therefore, as rare instances of a change of tonic; in which case the mode also changes in Ex. 93 from Doric to Lydic,1 but remains the same in Ex. 99.

1 The terminations -ic and -ian are used here to denote the Greek and Ecclesiastical niodes respectively. Appended is a list of them with their Carnatic and Hindostani equivalents.

As on the white From C, Greek Ecclesiastical Carnatic Mela- notes of with mode. mode. kurta (mode). Hindostani Thūt (mode). the piano.

B-b· 5 flats Mixolydic Locrian] (Saman chant) E-e 4 Doric Phrygian Bhairavī 3 Aeolian Hanumatodi A-a Hypodoric Nātabhairavī Sindhubhairavī D-d 2 Phrygic Dorian Karahāraprīya Kāfī G-g 1 Hypophrygic Mixolydian Harikambogi Jhinjoti C-c 0 Lydic Ionian Dehraśankarā- Bilāval bharaņa F-f 1 sharp Hypolydic Lydian Kalyānī Imankaliān

The Saman chant is discussed in Clapter XI. The Saman may be sung in Hindostan too, but I could hear of no Sāmagäs (singers) there. The place of other mucl more elaborate modes is discussed in subsequent chapters.

48 A MUSICAL DIARY

I got the singer to clap his hands-a thing it was generally im- possible to persuade him to do, though he would sometimes do it of his own accord-so that there was no doubt about the changes of rhythm in both these songs.

On these seven dozen melodies some generalizations are possible. 1. The further we get from civilization the more limited the compass. In cities, seaports, and the like, the compass is anything up to, or even beyond, the octave. Among the Gonds and the west coast tribes it is not more than four or five notes; among the Malayans and the Travancore boatmen, and the Todas,1 not more than three or four; among the remote Kānikas only two or three.2 2. The tonic is sometimes locally as well as logically central, i.e. the tune 'takes off' from some note below the tonic, and ranges through some two or three notes above it. Cf. Exs. 29, 44, 45, 47, 62, 66, &c. 3. But a larger number have the lowest note for tonic. Cf. Exs. 27, 31, 33, 36, 38, 80, &c. 4. There is a tendency for the melody to begin in the upper part of the voice, reaching it perhaps by a leap, and to settle down upon a tonic. Cf. Exs. 27, 28, 36, 38, 63. 5. A small number of the tunes employ conjunct motion ex- clusively. Cf. Exs. 17, 37, 56, 59. 6. In others, when two notes are taken by leap they have some- times previously appeared as taken by step. Cf. Exs. 39, 48, 58, 61. 7. Real transilient scales are not found here; see, however, Exs. 44, 45, 46. 8. The pivot on which the melodies turn is the interval of a fourth with the lower note as tonic (see pussim). 9. Imitation at different levels is rare. Cf. Exs. 47, 63, 66, 81. 10. Two-time is common, three-time rare.

1 Collected by Mr. Thurston, whose phonograph records are at present in the hands of Dr. Myers of Cambridge. 2 See Chapter XIII (by Dr. C. S. Myers) of Dr. Seligmann's Veddahs of Ceylon, where the melodies of two or three notes are classed as 'more archaic' than others of four or five.

A MUSICAL DIARY 49

11. A mixture of these takes three forms : (a) Two counted as three, or three as two. Cf. Exs. 27, 37, 38 II-V, 92. (b) Two and three, or three and four are alternated. Cf. Exs. 21, 24, 28, 36, 63, 67, &c. (c) Cross rhythm of song (Exs. 58, 66) and drumming (Exs. 42, 48).

149 E

CHAPTER II

A MUSICAL DIARY (continued)

AT Allahabad I came across some Garhwalīs who had bcen got down from Mussouri in the Himalaya for the Exhibition as riksha- walas because they would be in good training, and because they were cheerful and honest. They said they could not sing in the day- time because they were thinking about their work, so we had a very merry evening in a hot tent from nine o'clock to past midnight. There was great competition to sing into the phonograph and have their performance given back to them; but unfortunately only one phonogram has survived the railway journey. The subjects of their songs are given for what they are worth; I was able to get them only at fourth hand. The men sang in Bāli; this was translated by one of them into bad Hindostani, retranslated into good Hindostani by a bystander, and from that a version was given me by a (most patient) English boy of fourteen who spoke Hindostani like a native; his actual words are given here. Ex. 94.

(He and she on opposite banks of a river). She. If God gave me wings I'd fly to you. He. If God made me into a bullet I'd reach you so. She. Are your father and mother well ? He. How are all the village people, &c. Ex. D 95

Make me the best instrument in the world. What will you give ? I will give you four annas a day and as much dāl (maize) as you like.

Ex. 96.

A man had a daughter and sold her in marriage to an old man (aetat. 36) She protests :- 'Why did you marry me to such an old man ?' An old woman says :- 'It was your fate; don't be sad about it.'

A MUSICAL DIARY 51

'Still, I'm not happy. I'll go away and get married to a young man.'- for she had many lovers. But they say-'You have chosen an old, old man and now we won't have you '.

Tonic G. Ex. = 97.

(Не). 0 give me those pret - ty eyes, And I'll (She). And if I give you my pret - ty eyes, 0th - er (He). Then 0 let me bor - row them And (She). For six montlis you shall bor - row them; Pro - mise (He). What word is this of a bar - gain-ing ! I will

make you the gift in re - turn of my own, dear. lov - ers '11 laugh and '11 leave me a - lone, dear keep them safe till you need them a - gain, dear. tru - ly you'll give me them back then a - gain, dear. keep your eyes and your heart and your soul, dear.

Ex. 98.

A Gurkha song. He deserts his sweetheart.

Tonic B. Ex. 99.

1. Mo-ther, send to the dho - bi to bring back my li - nen. 2. Nev -er mind where I'm go - ing if you'll send to the dho - bi. 3. Oh I'm go - ing to get me a new wife, pret-ty Hi - ra. 4. Oh I'm wea - ry of Chhai - la as you know, lit-tle mo - ther. 5. For the love of your son, moth - er, my Hi - rawill leave him. 6. For five hun -dred ru-pees I can make good the de-ceiv - ing. 7. He shall cease from his griev -ing for I'll dou - ble the ran - som. 8. Some new ear - rings of pearl and a long neck-lace of ru · by.

Tonic G

1. 0 where will you go if I back your li - nen? 2. You must say where you go be - fore I send to the dho - bi. 3. Lit - tle Chhai - la is yours and will you mar - ry an - o - ther? 4. But her hus - band 'll kill you if you get pret-ty Hi - ra ! 5. He will fol - low with fif - ty if you dare to de-ceive him. 6. For five hun - dred ru - pees he will not cease from his griev - ing. 7. And what gems will you get to a - dorn Hi - ra thehand-some? 8. You have said where you're go - ing and I'll send to the dho - bi.

E 2

52 A MUSICAL DIARY

Ex. 100.

A postman and his sweetheart. 'Since we were at school we have loved each other. I have spent all my money on you; and didn't you love some one else ?' 'Up to now you haven't married me!' 'I'm so busy all day; I've no time to speak to you.' 'If you loved me you'd find time ; you'd leave all your work.' I'm being transferred to another village; I hope you'll be well.' 'You're going ? I feel lonely.' Tonic F. Ex. 101.

Jagalī wanted to go to a flour mill. Her uncles and brothers said, 'Don't go, else the police will catch you, and pinch you, and kiss you, &c.' But she,-'Never mind, I want to be caught, and pinched, and kissed, &c.' 1st version. (b) +5

Ex. 102. 2nd version.

Called Jonu's song : I could make no story out of the words. It was accompanied by a graceful two step, with a drag on the second. Phonogram. Ex. 103. 1. Two pret - ty boys there were Un - der a gu - ru's care. 2. One day the Ra - jah came, Asked of their house and name. 3. In daysthatare now no more They sojournedin Ab - bot - pur. 4. Their moth-er, Con-sī-la fair, To Das-rat their fa - ther bare. 5. The names of the chil-dren are Rā - ma and Laksh - ma - na. 6. Forth they were cast from home, Far in the woods to roam. 7. Mes - sen - gers came, but they Would not the word o - bey. 8. But when they grew to men Home they re - turned a - gain, 9. Marched to the Ra-jah's throne, Slew him that sat there - on. 10. Now by high God's de - cree, At their re - turn, I see.

1-9. 0 God, hear me in Thy great kind-ness, All 10. Thou God hear - est me in Thy kind-ness, Tliou

see - ing God light - en my blind - ness. God hast light - ened my blind - ness.

A MUSICAL DIARY 53

Ex. 104. No words available.

Ex. C 105. Bachhi married Devali; but she only bore him a daughter ; so he expelled the former, and exposed the latter.

There was also a recitative song from Bhotan :

Ex. 106.

The long note was of indefinite length-as long as the breath lasted. These Garhwalts had come from the hills : I went next to Dehra Dūn, a few miles below Mussouri, and met with some more of the same tribe. Their songs follow below. Most of the words were, I was told, mere snatches of sentences, often in the wrong order, learnt by heart without understanding, interspersed with tags for the sake of the rhyme. The first half dozen were sung by a small boy. The intervals between the verses he occasionally filled up by a com- bined smack of the lips and clack of the tongue to represent the thud, or rather the squeeze (see Chap. IX) of the drum, which would at that place have a solo, in order to give the singer time to recover his breath. The other songs were given by men soli, or by women in chorus. Tāra Padhāne. (b) Ex. 107.

Sovkin Biwāri.

Ex. -3

54 A MUSICAL DIARY

Būji Dhānpuria.

Ex. = 109.

Tānko.

Ex. 110.

Chhaila.

Ex. 111. Must you go, my Chhai-la, now, Leav-ing me a - lone, my Shall I live, my Chhai-la, say, Like a wa - ter-mill, my

dar - ling ! Tell me, Chhai-la, how I shall live when you are gone ? dar - ling! Stand-ing all the day des-o- late up - on a hill ?

In this song two bars are taken as the unit, and the rhythm is 2+3+3+2; it would have been more correct to write it 1°, but more difficult to read. No method of writing it will reproduce the charm of the original. (Chhaila=darling.)

Hyun Pārio Gād.

Ex. = 112. 1

Ranwain Bāja.

Ex. 113.

Biglitār.

Ex. 114 In the moun - tains of Ne . pāl Lives a And on Sim la's high hill Is the A - long the hills, near and far On ma - ny In the home of the tall pine Is the

A MUSICAL DIARY 55

might king; And his peo - ple one and Lāt Sahib's 1 camp ; And when mount Me ru is . poles hang wires ; Is not that a fair Dar - Lāt Sahib seen ; But in Mat - tra's ho ly

all To his feet hom ag bring. still . You may hear his Si - pa - his' tramp. . bār Lit by a thou sand fires ! shrine Is Ne pa - lī - ya queen.

Chhaila. 3+2 Ex 115.

Men. Women. D.C.

(The spelling of the titles in Exs. 107-115 is merely phonetic.)

D.C Ex .: 116,

Tonic C?

Ex. 117.

Ex. 118.

Ex. 119.

Ex. 120

Ex. 121.

' Viceroy's.

56 A MUSICAL DIARY

These were sung by women, tile-layers. They clattered their wooden trowels on the floor, in an approximate rhythm, and ' felt shame' because there was no actual roof to work on.

Women. Men.

Ex. 122.

Ex. 123.

EX 124.

This came from Dharmsala1; and the Rāg was given me as Behäg. That its singer knew so much about it as that, not to mention its carefully balanced sections (the same as in our National Anthem), removes it from the category of folk-song proper. In many of these Garhwalr songs, and still more in the Gurkha songs which follow, I noticed, instead of the usual slide or vibrato on the emphatic notes, a sort of luscious squeeze, a glutinous warble -quite incommunicable.

1 An officer of the 1st Goorkha's at Dharmsāla gave me these two tunes that his men sung on the march. Zakmi Dil (the wounded heart). 1st 2nd. Ex.7 125.

Ist 2nd. ..

D.C

O Sadhu. Ex. 126.

N.B .- The tonic of this is probably C, but may be F. The third bar begins with what may be the 'warble' noticed below.

A MUSICAL DIARY 57

To such tunes as 2 3 C Ex .- 127.

1 1 2 0

128

four men, A, B, C, D, danced, lifting the foot to the level of the knee, their movements corresponding to the four beats of the bar [0 stands for the silent beat]. (1) All clap hands. (2) B, D touch right palm to A, C's left palm, the fingers pointing upwards. (3) Clap hands. (0) D, B touch left palm to A, C's right palm. All step back- wards (instead of forwards) on this beat. One night during my stay a sing-song was kindly organized for my benefit among the men of the 2nd Goorkhas. They were in more than their usual good spirits over a successful hockey match with the 9th. There was no gene in the presence of their officers, and the performance was in no sense 'to order'. The songs followed in such quick succession that there was no time to get down any words: most of them were danced to. One man, or perhaps two, stood out in the midst of an admiring crowd, and whirled round and round; bent knees and elbows, palms of the hands upturned, arms extended. At regular intervals a couple of bars, or four, were danced in a crouching position. At the end of a chorus there was occasionally a grunted ' Ha! Ha!'

Ex. 129. Right. 6 Drum. Left. 8

Solo. Chorus. W

Drum as before.

Ist version. Ex. = 130.

2nd version.

58 A MUSICAL DIARY

3rd version.

4th version.

1st version. Ex. 131.

2nd version.

1st version. Ex. 132.

2nd version.

3

Ex. 133.

1st version. Ex. 134.

2nd version

Ex. 135.

1st version. Ex. 136.

2nd version.

Ex. 137.

The following two melodies were given me by an officer of the regiment.

Andante. ..= 100. Ex. 188.

A MUSICAL DIARY 59

D.C.

CODA. ac cel

al

presto.

This is a Chitralr dance (the regiment spends its time between Dehra Dūn and Chitral). It is played loud, soft, staccalo, and staccatissimo. The final notes are blown with all the fingers off the holes, the acciaccatura being got by overblowing.

Ex. 139.

A Kafir song. The three-crotchet cross-rhythm of bars 2, 3, 4 is noteworthy .. At Jhelum the station was entertained one evening by the 20th Punjabis with a Cuttack dance. About one hundred men grouped themselves in a double circle round a bonfire, which shot up into bright flame at intervals in response to libations of kerosene. They advanced towards and retreated from the fire with swoopings, punctuated by sudden crouchings, twirlings, and pirouettings ; waving their arms, with handkerchiefs in their hands; sometimes pausing suddenly by bringing one leg sharply down on the ground. Later on some picked dancers substituted swords for handkerchiefs. Then two swords, one in each hand; and one man dangling a third sword held in his teeth by the sword knot. The surnai (or shahnai), a sort of oboe, or bagpipe chanter, and the dhol were employed. The dance tunes were : d=110. Ex. 140.

60 A MUSICAL DIARY

Surnai. =92.

Ex. 4 141.

Dhol

Surnai. =165

Ex.

Dhol. 6 8

• &c.

At Achilgarh, near Mount Abu, women climbing up to the temple, with waterpots, stopped by request and sang,

Ex .: 143.

At Bhavnagar (Kathiawar) some khawas (maidservants in the royal household) sang :

Ex. 144.

Ex. 145.

Ex. 146.

Ex. : 147.

Ex. 148. 28

A MUSICAL DIARY 61

Ex 149.

Ex. 150.

3

Ex. 151.

D.C

Ex. 152.

The first eight of these were danced to, the silent beat (the khāli) being marked by a retrograde step. The last, Sitaji na mahina, is a well-known and popular song, describing the twelve sorrows1 of Sīta, one for each month.2 Dasrat, king of Ayodhyā, had two sons, Rama and Bharata, by two wives. Bharata's mother had a promise from Dasrat that he would give her anything she liked. She demanded nothing till Dasrat was on the point of abdicating, when she asked that Bharata should succeed, and Rama go into retirement in the jungle with his father for fourteen years. Bharata was away at the time; the claim was honoured, and Rama retired. Bharata on his return refused to accept the situation, and tried to induce Rama to return ; but he 1 For other (Bihari) forms of the 'Twelve Sorrows' see J. R. A. S., xvi, New Series, pp. 203, 207, 213, 216, 218. 2 Thé Indian months are :

Kartik Nov. Dec. Vaishak May

Magashir Jeth June

Posh Jan. Ashā'i July Aug. Megh Feb.

Phalguna March Shravan

April Bhadarva Sept. Oct. Chaitra May Aso Nov.

62 A MUSICAL DIARY

said he was bound by his promise. Bharata then placed his padūka (wooden shoes) on the gaddi (throne) and dressed like his half-brother in jungle clothes to show sympathy. Meanwhile Sītā, Rāma's wife, was carried off by Rāvaņa, with a view to marriage. In her captivity she laments to her friend. 'O girl, with the month of Kartik my beloved went away. This month is the harbinger of winter, when cold is fierce like lightning. My beloved has left me, and the night which is my enemy begins to increase in length. I wonder why my soul does not leave my body. Magashir is full of emotion. It is difficult for a woman to pass her days apart from him who loves her ; so her condition is very unhappy. The rooms of the house look empty, and Sīta is grieving with tears in her eyes. Will any one bring a letter from my beloved, or carry one to him? In Posh, here in the court of Rāvana, my home comes to my mind : this Sita says with tears. In Megh the wind from the Himalaya blows, and my body trembles. To whom can I open my heart, O friend, that heart which is attached to Rama alone? In Phalguna the flowers bloom; but what are these to her who has not her lover. The Rag Basant is being sung, but how can she care for such songs. In Chaitra my mind has become anxious and confused, and the absence of a letter from him pains me. All the leaves return to the trees, but not my lover to me. In Vaishak grapes and mangoes are ripe, and the hot wind is blowing, and the body of one who has not her husband breathes fire. In Jeth it is the custom to go to the tanks with friends to bathe; but he is not here, and my heart does not permit me to do so. Why bathe, or dress, or put on orna- ments; I will none of them. In Asha'i when the rains have begun, and birds are singing in the trees, I envy them. In Shravan the tanks are full and the rain falls in streams. My gay clothes are wet with rain and tears. One who has once loved can never change; but for all this I must not lose heart. In Bhadarva all kinds of corn are ripe, but they please me not. It is now Aso, and I have heard, O friend, that Rama has con- structed a bridge to carry an army from India to Ceylon.' [Rama brought his army of monkeys from Ramesvaram across ' Adam's bridge', Rāvaņa was killed, Sītā was brought back to Ayodhyā (Oudh) to the great joy of her people, and Rama embraced Bharata.] 'I Rämayya, the poet, and whoever will sing my song, shall obtain heaven, and all his desires will be fulfilled by God, and all his accumulated Karmas will be exhausted.'

Cradle Songs. There is one special class of song, lullabies,1 of great interest and beauty. They seem not to be much known in the Punjab, where Mahommedan mothers croon only The Name, Illah-il-illāh, over their babies. But in any part of the peninsula they may lurk 1 Is it too daring to offer 'Lali', I rock, or cradle ('Lālo' in Kashmir), and 'Bai', baby, as an alternative to Skeat's not very convincing derivations of 'Lullaby'-brought from India possibly by gipsies ?

PLATE 4

Ragi-grinding.

Pāņans.

Schoolmistress, Tanjore.

P. 63

A MUSICAL DIARY 63

unsuspected, as the difficulty of persuading a woman, except of the lowest class, to sing before a man, and especially before a European, is almost insuperable. Those I got were chiefly in the south, and from 'enlightened ' women. At Trivandrum I obtained 1 the song with which His Highness the present Maharajah of Travancore is said to have been put to sleep as a child. =50. Ex. 153.

Is this sweet babe The bright crescent moon, or the charming flower of the lotus, The honey in a flower, or the lustre of the full moon, A pure coral gem, or the pleasant chatter of parrots, A dancing peacock, or a sweet singing bird, A bounding young deer, or a bright shining swan, A treasure from God, or the pet parrot in the hands of Iśvari, The tender leaf of the kalpa tree, or the fruit of my tree of fortune, A golden casket to enclose the jewel of my love, Nectar in my sight, or a light to dispel darkness, The seed of my climbing fame, or a never-fading bright pearl, The brilliance of the sun to dispel all the gloom of misery, The Vedas in a casket, or the melodious vinā, The lovely blossom put forth by the stout branch of my tree of enjoyment, A cluster of pichaka buds, or sugar-candy sweet on the tongue, The fragrance of musk, the best of all good, A breeze laden with the scent of flowers, or the essence of purest gold, A bowl of fresh milk, or of sweet smelling rose-water, The field of all virtue, or an abode of all duty, A cup of thirst-quenching cold water, or a sheltering shade, A never-failing mallika flower, or my own stored up wealth, The auspicious object of my gaze, or my most precious jewel, A stream of virtuous beauty, or an image of the youthful Krishna, The bright forehead mark of the goddess Lakshmī, Or, by the mercy of Padmanābha, is it the source of my future happiness, Is it, in this beautiful form, an Avatār of Krishņa Himself ? The next five examples were obtained from a schoolmistress in Tanjore. 1 The songstress wanted to accompany herself on the inevitable harmonium, until I pointed out that it would be much in her way when she pulled the string of the cradle, and that the sound of it might prevent the baby from going to sleep.

64 A MUSICAL DIARY

Rarāro. d=90. Phonogram. Ex. 154. 3

Lālishrīta. Phonogram. Adagio. J= 70. Ex. 155. 3

Ba by mine, light of my eyes, Here . . Sri - ran - gam is land ri ses fair Where The gol - den nails no lon ger move On

rall.

3

in thy cra dle bright with flowers Through the di vi ded Kā - ve rīs meet I which my ba by's cra dle swung ; The

rall.

3

sun - ny hours I bring thee sleep, I rock thee and lay thee there down at His feet, At Srī - ran - ga song is sung ; my ship is borne Safe home, my

rall.

sing thee to sleep On the wings of my me lo dies. rā ja's feet Full sure of His ten . der care. ship is borne Safe on the - cean of love.

The rhythm of the first of these is obscure even on the phonograph; it was probably some z rhythm, but the melody floated away so easily on a tempo rubato that it seems better to leave it barless. It is evidently a variant of Ex. 155.

Lāli Keshavuda. =100. Phonogram. Ex. -10 156. -16

Lā - li Kesh - a - vu - da lā 1i Go - vin - da lã - li

Mad - ha vu - da lā li lā - li

A MUSICAL DIARY 65

chu-ta lā - li . . Ha-ri Ha-ri Rā-mu-di-ki Rā-ma lā - li .

Lāli pardare. Phonogram. Allegretto, J. = 80. EX. 157.

Lā - li Bā - la-krish-ņa lā - li lā - li lā - li

la - li Lā - li Go - pā - la-krish-ņa . li lā - li.

A Gan-dhar-va wovethycra - dle And a white Ap -sa-ras sang, And the For my hand that rocks is wea-ry, And my voicethat singsis dry, And my

courts and the halls of In - dra at thy birth with wel - come rang : lã - work waits till my ba - by falls a - sleep by and by.

Bā - la - krish - na lā li. lā - li lā -

li. Lā - . li Go - pā - la-krish-ņa lā - li.

The words are borrowed from Ex. 162.

Ex. 158.

The next two examples

Andante. = 90. Ex. 10 159. 3

3 3

1495

66 A MUSICAL DIARY

Adagio. J=80 Ex 160.

1st. 2nd.

were gathered from an unmusical ayah on board the steamer; she lost her key a good deal, and the songs were difficult to piece together. My interpreter could make nothing of her particular dialect (of Hindostani). Ex. 159 is evidently a distant variant of Ex. 156. The slide gave a wonderful ' value' to the close and the half-close of Ex. 160. The three following are Maratha songs; the first two, lullabies, and the third, an epithalamium. They were kindly sung to me by a Hindu lady in Calcutta.

Rāma's lullaby. Adagio. J=80. Ex 161.

In A - yo - dhyā, the land of kings, It was Vish - nu's For the cra - dle is wrought of gold, And a Child there- In thehand-hold of Kau - shal - yā Is the cra - dle - And the De - vis1 are strew - ing flowers From the high - est

self That was born on the lap of - in, Of the wholo world the Lord and cord, And the cord is the thread of heaven, And with each flower bless - ing

Kau - shal-yā. Lit - tle babe sleep up - on my knee! Mas - ter, sleeps. Lit - tle babe sleep up - on my knee ! Bod - ha - na.2 Lit - tle babe sleep up - on my knee ! on the Child. Lit - tle babe sleep up - on my knee !

Nirguna's3 lullaly.

Ex. 162.

1 Goddesses. 2 Knowledge. $ The supreme being-'without qualification'.

A MUSICAL DIARY 67

8 3

Celestial carpenters have fashioned thy cradle. My hand is tired of pulling the string. My throat is dry with singing. I cannot go about my work because my baby is not yet asleep. The cradle is covered with flowers, &c.

Epithalamium. Andante. J. = 92. Ex. 168.

O daugh-ter of Bhī - ma, queen Da-ma- ya - ntī, The

rall a tempo.

-o

hour is come; 0 bride of Na-la, the hour of your woo-ing, The

ral a tempo.

hour of your choice, O daugh-ter of kings. For ma - ny

kings are come to the ce-re-mo-ny And here a - wait your voice, To pro-

rall.

nounce their mak - ing or un - do - ing, Their sal-va - tion or their

a tempo.

doom. 0 daugh-ter of Bhī - ma, queen Da-ma-ya - ntī, The

W rall. a tempo.

hour is come, O daugh-ter of kings. Up-on those lus-trous eyes put

an - ti-mo - ny Lay on these jew - els rare Min - gle the F 2

68 A MUSICAL DIARY

scent of the pān with the scent of the flowers in your

hair O daugh-ter of Bhī - ma, queen Da-ma-ya - ntī, The

rall

is come, daugh - ter of kings. O hour

In another class, not exactly Folk-song because conscious nor Art- song because unsophisticated, are children's songs. The following were sung to me at schools at Jhelum in the Panjab. The boys ranged from ten to eighteen, and one of those who sang was married.

Boys' songs.

Ex. 164.

There is no place like one's own country. If you would know, ask the inhabitants. The Bulbul knows. The wind blows purer there; the water is clearer; the very dust is an elixir. The name of our country refreshes us. Its mountains are higher than heaven. It is a garden of Eden. Every corner has deeds to tell.

Ex. = 165.

Children must not wear ornaments. There is a fear of losing person or property. [Boys as well as girls wear ornaments, and are not infrequently kidnapped and robbed, possibly even murdered to prevent detection.] How can parents be at ease when their eyes are constantly riveted on their children, watching their necks or wrists.

d = 100. Ex. = 166.

A MUSICAL DIARY 69

No words obtainable. The following is a love song, which the boy would not have sung before his father or elder brother for fear of being beaten : d=100. Ex. 167.

My love is gone a way, A - lack - a . day 1

Where can I find . one sO con - stant and sO kind !

My lone - ly heart is throb bing and ach . ing with

fear ; Wher - e'er I go I wcep to know she

is not here ; May Shi - va's power de - fend my dear !

Girls' song. Ex. 168.

The song that women sing at marriage, speaking of the deterioration of women nowadays, how that they know nothing of the housewifely duties which made the name of Sītā famous.

In two particulars the Garhwali and Gurkha songs here given (Exs. 94-128 and 129-139) stand out from the rest. They were in true intonation; the salient intervals, the Thirds and Fourths, unmistakably 'just'. And they are in transilient scales; even if the scale is complete the notes follow each other in such a way as clearly to show that the melodies have a pentatonic basis (cp. Exs. 117 and 139), and it is probably correct to regard such hexatonic (shādara) and heptatonic (sampūrņa) scales as 'spoiled ' forms of the pentatonic (odava), as in the more familiar Scotch songs.

70 A MUSICAL DIARY

The Gurkhas are Mongolians of Nepal, and the Garhwalis one of many Indian tribes of the Himālaya, and their use of this odava scale differs. The typical Gurkha form is GA-CDE (Exs. 129, 130, 137, plagal; and Ex. 135 authentic). The typical Garhwalī form is GA-CDE (Exs. 94-7, 103, 107-9, &c.), though there are instances also with C (Exs. 110, 127), D (Ex. 103), and E (Exs. 99, 123) for tonic. The Gurkha use is what the books represent as the typical Chinese scale; and it seems not impossible that the Garhwali melodies present the form which that scale took on Indian lips, and that the transilient element of Indian song comes from the East (see Chapter IV). The harmonic basis of this scale is of course the Fourth, and a melody is a succession of partly filled Fourths; the backbone of the song, what gives it its strength, is this leap of a Fourth through a passage note. In the Gurkha songs this passage note is adjacent to the lower note of the tetrachord,

in the Garhwalr to the upper

and this makes their general character very different. The passage note cleaves to the sound which is being left, not to the one which is being approached. We may see this in the melodic figure so common in the Cinquecentists

for instance, in the close of Palestrina's Motet, Tribus Miraculis :

Ex. 169.

A MUSICAL DIARY 71

b b b b

That it should do so is natural because the leap of a Fourth is a leap to the known through the unknown, and the 'unknown' is taken primarily as a melodic, i. e. an adjacent interval. Hence the Garhwāli figure, even though taken in ascent, is essentially a falling figure, and the Gurkha, even in descent, essentially a rising one; and the character of the latter is accordingly more jovial and exhilarating. Added to this there is in the Gurkha songs a strong rhythm, recalling the Scotch 'jerk', and an ab- sence of complicated cross-rhythm. As we are upon the subject, another very common way of filling the tetrachord may be mentioned

There do not happen to be any instances of it in these chapters, but the scale which is taught to children as the 'easiest' is composed of two such phrases, and there is no doubt that it is a favourite and most characteristic locution. It has the appearance of bcing a transilient passage from G to C, but the origin is probably a different one; it will be discussed in Chapter IV. A natural result of ' transilience' is the tendency to build harmonic phrases

Ex. 115. Ex. 117. Ex. 170.

Ex. 94. Ex. 111. Ex. 103.

Ex. 98. Ex. 104. Ex. 99.

otherwise rare in Indian song; Exs. 115 and 99, indeed, get very near to implying a definite change of harmony, which would be quite foreign to the spirit of the music as a whole (cp. also Ex. 43).

72 A MUSICAL DIARY

Imitation at different levels may be seen in Exs. 117, 140, 141, 142, 163. Cross-rhythm occurs in Ex. 161 where the third line wavers betwecn two bars of 3 which suits the words of the first and third stanzas, and three bars of 2 which suits those of the others : a device of frequent employment in the cadences of Handel's time. Another instance is in Ex. 167 where the 'throbbing and aching' is to be accented as triplets, but in strict time, not 'three in the time of two', giving a pleasurable shock analogous to that felt at the beginning of Brahms's third Symphony. The Indian may be disposed to think these melodies too trivial to be dignified by the name of song; he will say his art begins where these stop, and will hardly recognize in them any of the real spirit of his music. The European may protest that they are too fragmentary to be of real use, and that there are too many gaps in the information about the occasion and the subject of each. Both charges are justified; but the object has been not so much to present complete and finished specimens, as to get close down upon those natural instincts of song-makers which, when followed out in the domain of art, cause their music to take one form rather than another; to get behind the conventions, of which all art is full, to the things themselves of which those conventions are the outcome.

PLATE 5

Musicians. Detail from an eighteenth-century Rajput cartoon in the collection of A. K. Coomaraswamy.

P. 73

CHAPTER III

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

'It is the most distant course that comes nearest to Thyself; and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter sim- plicity of a tune.'-Tagore.

THE Indian does not make or read histories, and does not appre- ciate the value of chronological record. It is the custom to smile at this; but it would be well to understand his point of view first. A whole people is not generally mistaken about its real needs. In the first place, Brahman philosophy draws no real distinction between what a thing 'is' and what it 'signifies'. Time and place, so integral a part for the Western of what a thing is, are for the Hindu accidents, not essentials. It is not that he cannot conceive or manipulate their divisions ; astronomy, for instance, has been one of his strong points; but that they do not, for him, add to the significance nor therefore to the nature of the phenomenon. Secondly, whereas chronologically ordered history enables us to compare the present of a nation with its past and so to predict its future, and to compare one nation at a given moment with another, neither of these motives appeals to the Hindu. His past is like his present and throws little light upon it. If we look at the sculpture of a thousand years ago from Ellora, or the painting from Ajanta, or the carvings of Amravati and Sanchi another thousand years earlier, we see the same mothers carrying babies on their hips, the same graceful little movements of the hands, the same methods of grinding corn, the same kinds and shapes of musical instruments, the same antimony for the same almond-shaped eyes, the same dress, the same symbols of rank. Life in Europe during such space of time has been subject to gusts of fashion or revolution, and we have looked up between the whirlwinds and gratefully murmured ' e pur si muove'. We thank God that we look before and after; the Indian contemns mushroom growths, and thinks

74 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

methods of such recent origin and subject to such constant change hardly worth the trouble of acquiring. And it does not interest him to compare one nation with another, or to take a side in or strike a balance between competing activities. His life is in the family rather than the state, in idea rather than fact, in the soul rather than the mind. His knowledge is of revela- tion more than of science; his truth contemplative rather than practical. Compromise is for him not so much the media ria which emerges from the battle of two forces, as the philosophic calm which without despair can hold in solution two diametrically opposed statements. Lastly, he is like Macaulay's Puritan, the man of a book. That he believes in his Sāstras may be argued from the surprising number of cases in which he is prepared to undergo incon- venience and unpleasantness in deference to them. That, further, he believes them may be seen from the way in which the typically Indian mind turns, courteously but peremptorily, from any attempt to impugn them. For such reasons as these, and possibly others, the one conspicuous gap in an Indian library is the history shelf. We find it natural, therefore, in the Hindu to ascribe remote antiquity-in point of fact, eternity-to his earliest memories. He does not know any author for his Vedas, but speaks of such and such a Rishi as being allowed to 'hear' them the last time they were revealed. He does not discriminate between one antiquity and another, or take much interest in the development of ideas, for all development is poten- tially included in the original revelation, which was either 'heard' (śruti) or 'remembered' (smrti) by the human agency to whom its record was entrusted. Thus he holds that four Vedas have existed from all time, although the Buddhist Jatakas1 never speak of more than three. And what concerns us more particularly here, the Nātyaśāstra (circ. A. D. 500), the Ratnākara (1220?), the Rāgavi- bodha (1609), the Sangīta Darpaņa (1625 ?), and Parijāta (early eighteenth century) are all quoted as ' scriptures ' of practically equal value ; while the undated Nāradaśiksa, whose system shows a con- siderable advance on that of the Nātyasastra, is held, apparently on the strength of its name alone, to have been put forth by that mythical sage himself. 1 Circ. 300 B.c. Stories of the former incarnations of the Buddha.

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 75

LEGEND

On the shore of this eternal past lie fragments of the living rock rounded into pebbles. History's sic ibat, sic sedebat is denied us ; but in the legends we may gather some impression of what the reflective mind made of the daily happenings of the life around it. 'Once upon a time the great anchorite Narada thought within himself he had mastered the whole art and science of music. To curb his pride the all-knowing Vishnu took him to visit the abode of the gods. They entered a spacious building the inmates of which were numerous men and women, who were all weeping over their broken limbs. Vishnu stopped short and inquired of them the reason of their lamentation. They answered that they were the Rags and Rūginis of music, created by Mahādeva; but as one anchorite of the name of Narada, ignorant of the true knowledge of music and unskilful in performance, had sung them recklessly, their features were distorted and their limbs broken, and that unless Mahädeva or some other discreet and skilful person would sing them properly, there was slender hope of their ever being restored to their former state of body. Nārada, ashamed, kneeled down before Vishnu and asked to be forgiven.'

So an unnamed Indian treating of undatable personages writes history and criticism in one. Believe, he says, in the divinity of the elements of your art, and know that your carelessness and ignorance will maim them, and you will not murder a song ; and it may be doubted whether the well-weighed epithets and refined distinctions of musical 'appreciations' do the thing any better, or indeed achieve their object so well. With Narada, the Rishi who first 'heard' the laws of music, are associated Tumburu, the first singer, and Bharata, the first to draw up ruies for the drama, of which music formed a large part. Of Tumburu it is said that he increased the scale in which the Sāma- reda was chanted from five notes to six or seven. The treatise which purports to record the doctrines of Nārada, the Nāradasīksā, is probably of late date1 and gives no clue whatever to the achieve- ment of the Narada of legend. The treatise which bears the name of Bharata, the Nātyaśāstra, is similarly an eponym. One or other of these three names appears probably in every book on music that has been written, and the existence of the authors is held, though in complete absence of any specific.doctrine attributed to them, as a pious belief; the belief is equal to that which the Greeks pro- 1 The stage of the art which it describes is identical with that referred to in the Pañcatantra, the text of which may be dated circ. A.D. 1000 (see p. 82).

76 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

fessed in Olympos and Thamyris, the latter of whom some greatly daring philologist has connected with Tumburu, and the piety is something more than that which we accord to Jubal. The locus classicus for this posthumous fame is in Dandin's Mrcchakatikā (sixth eentury A. D.), where a servant says : 'I wish every one to take notice that the harder it rains the more thoroughly do I get ducked, and the colder the wind blows down my back the more do my limbs shiver. A pretty situation for a man of my talents- for one who can play the flute with seven holes and the vind with seven strings, can sing like a jackass, and who acknowledges no musical superior except perhaps Tumburu and Nārada.' The musical inhabitants of Indra's heaven were Gandharvas,1 Apsarāsas, Kinnaras, and Nāras. The original Gandharva, in the singular, dwelt in the fathomless space of air and stood erect on the vault of heaven. He was the guardian of the nectar of the gods (soma). In later Vedic books the Gandharvas2 are many, and espouse the Apsarasas, whose name describes them as 'moving in the waters' (sc. of the clouds). In still later Vedas these frequent the earth, and inhabit especially trees ; their mission from Indra is to blunt the edge of human virtue which else, through abstinenee and prayer, had grown too overweening ; and one of them, Urvaśi, who hovers thus between earth and heaven, is the heroine of Kalidāsa's Fikramorvasi (fifth century). The Kinnaras and Nāras, possibly the same, are classed with the Gandharvas as celestial musicians. Their name 3 implies a superhuman form, said to have been a man's body with a horse's head. In company with them appear, in the Gandhara sculptures and elsewhere, Nāgas (snakes) with musical instruments, whose melodies are represented as coiling themselves about the hearts of men. But music in its highest, most emblematic form moves to the sound of Krishna's flute (murali) and dances to the pulsations of Shiva's drum (damaru).4 With Shiva, who enters the celestial

1 An etymological connexion between Gandharvas (who, besides being musicians, had to do with horses) and Centaurs (of whom Cheiron is said to have been a musician) is not impossible. 2 In the second book of the Rāmāyaņa there are summoned to Bharadvāja's feast the Gandharvas, Hāhā, Huhū, and 'the sweet' Viśvāvasu, and the Apsa- rāsas Alambusā, Ghrtāchī, Viśvāchī, Hemā, Bhīmā, and Nāgadantā, with Tumburu 'to lead the strain'. Alambusā is the Apsarāsa chosen out of 25,000,000 handmaids to 'make a breach in the virtue' of a Brahman of Kāśi. 3 Kim-nāra, 'what sort of man ?' 4 See Chap. IX, Udukkai.

PLATE 6

of Sitaram Lal of Benares. Seventeenth century. Detail from a picture of the Surrender of Kandahar in the collection

P. 77

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 77

hierarchy in the Brahmanas and wrests the supremacy from Indra and Brahmā, enters too the eternal becoming and ceasing to be of evolution, and to the woven rhythms of his dance the whole creation moves. And in the Rāmāyana it is Krishna sporting with his Gopis ' qui fait le monde à la ronde'.

In Hindu legend other instruments can scarcely be heard for the din of the drum. It beats the night watches, heralds proclamations, and preludes the sentence of death. Porus (Purusha) posts the drummers with the infantry and archers behind the elephants, who are accustomed to the sound and not in the least alarmed by it1; and Dionysos in his turn uses cymbals and drums instead of trumpets in making signals, in order to deceive the Indians.2 A king of Kanauj progresses accompanied by several hundred men with golden drums, called ' music-pace-drums', beating one stroke to each step.3 Of another it is said 'When king Devānāmpriya practises righteousness the call of his drum (bheri) has become a snmmons not to war but to righteousness'.4 There are many allusions to the 'five great sounds' (pañca mahā sabdā), an honour conferred by kings on the greatest of their servants, in which the drum (nāgara, tammața, damaruka) is associated with various forms of horn, gong, and cymbal. These were ' sounded in front of a chariot which is occupied, but behind one which contains no occupant. The car went solemnly round the palace and up the kettledrum road. They sounded the hundreds of instruments-it was like the noise of the sea.'5 Brahmadatta finds a mountain hermit who is annoyed by elephants, and presents him with a drum: 'if you beat upon this side your enemies will run away, if upon that they will become your firm friends.'6 The following remunerations are interesting :- ' One mattar for the sacrificial vessel, two to the horn- blower, four to each of the five courtesans of the temple, twelve to the skilful Pollama who built the temple, and fourteen to the drummer.' 7 In the Tamil Pura-Nannuru (first centuries A. D.) the drum, kept

1 Quintus Curtius, 1st cent. A. D. $ Hiouen Tsang, A.D. 629. 2 Polyainos, 2nd cent. A. D.

4 Aśokan inscription (circ. 250 B. c.), Western India. 5 Mahājanaka Jātaka. 6 Jātaka, bk. ii. 7 Canarese inscription, A. D. 975.

78 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

in every chieftain's palace, was treated almost as a lesser divinity.1 It reposed on a luxurious couch, was constantly cleaned, rubbed with perfumed earth, and garlanded. When used as the prelude to one of the ruler's proclamations it was carried on an elephant. The poet, Nośikaranār, relates how one day he had wandered into the courtyard of the palace and saw the ornamented and cushioned couch on which the royal drums were usually placed. The drums had gone to be cleaned and anointed, and he threw himself on the unoccupied couch and fell fast asleep. The king came by with his courtiers who expected to see the intruder meet with condign punishment. But the king took up a fan and cooled the sleeper's forehead with it till he awoke; and the poet's comment is : Surely 'twas not to win applause from earthly bards But that the deed might echo loud in higher worlds. With the drum (dundubhi) of the Vedas are mentioned the flute (rana), which is heard in the abode of Yāma (death), the lute (vīņā), often called 'seven-stringed' (saptatantri),2 which, in the Sūtras, is played at the sacrifice to the Manes, and the cymbals (āghāta, lit. something struck), to accompany the dance. In spite of the fame conferred upon it by Krishna's performance among his Gopis, the flute seems to fade out of Indian music; at least there are few references to it, and it is seldom to be heard nowadays. Perhaps its mellow tone is not of the kind which appeals to Indian ears; at any rate the shahnai and nagasāram (both reeds) which have ousted it are stridently nasal; and the buzzing of the tambura strings, effected by the insertion of a piece of silk (jivala), the jingling of the fifth string of the satar, called laras, and made, for this very purpose, of twisted brass, and most of all the nasal tone of voice which is deliberately cultivated for singing, seem to show that so mild a sound as that of the flute- tribe is not thought to be piquant enough. To the riņā, the national instrument, there are so many references, both direct and allusive, that it is difficult to choose. Perhaps one story, from the Jātakas, will be enough. A feeble musician, Mūsila of Ujjain, whose music on the rina was 'like scratching on a mat', came to learn of Guttila of Banāras (the Bodhisatta in an

1 See also Macdonell, Sanskrit Literature, p. 200. 2 Cf. Pindar's heptatonos phorminx. The modern instrument also has seven, four on the fingerboard, three as the drone.

PLATE 7

Mughal drawing, seventeenth century, of a bin-player, from an original in the collection of G. N. Tagore.

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LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 79

earlier birth). Guttila's parents when they heard him said, ' Shoo ! Shoo! the rats are gnawing the vinā to pieces.' Guttila who, as Bodhisatta, was 'skilled in discerning from the lineaments of the body' said, 'Go, my son, this art is not for you.' But Mūsila got his way; and Guttila Bodhisatta, who 'did not stint his know- ledge', at last pronounced his pupil perfect. Mūsila pressed to be taken into the king's service. This was done; but the king awarded Guttila twice as much as his pupil. Mūsila protested, and forced matters to a contest, of which proclamation was made to tuck of drum. The Bodhisatta reflected that he was old, and that 'if he beats me, death in the woods is better than the shame which will be my portion'. So to the woods he went; but 'kept returning through fear of death, and going back to the wood for fear of shame', so that 'the grass died as he walked and his feet wore away a path'. In his trouble Sakka, the king of the gods, appeared. Guttila was to break, in the contest, one string after another, beginning at the ' beestring', and the music should be as good as before. 'Then you shall go on playing with nothing but the body ; and from the ends of the broken strings the sound shall go forth and fill all the land of Banaras for the space of twelve leagues.' All happened as was foretold, and the scholar, beaten out of the field, was stoned and torn in pieces by the populace. The rest of the picture is filled with horns (sringa), conchs (sankha), gongs (jayaghanta, lit. bell of victory), cymbals (jallali), pipes (kurāl), and various other instruments not identified. We get a glimpse of the scale on which ecclesiastical music was planned from an inscription (A.D. 1051) on the Rājarājeśvara temple at Tanjore : 'Apart from the priests the following musicians and attendants are to have a daily allowance for the recitation of the Tiruppadiyam (a form of service) calculated in shares of 3 karuni of paddy, as follows: Number Shares employed. each. Title.

ORCHESTRA. 66 .5 Men 'engaged in drumming'. 32 75 Musicians. 1 1.0 Large drum. 1 1.0 Small drum. 2 1.0 Large drums (kotti mattaļam). 48 1.0 Musicians. 2 1.5 1.5 Small drums (udukkai). 3 Pipe players (vangiyam). 2 1.75 Vīņā players.

80 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

Number Shares employed. each. Title. CHOIR. 4 1.0 Singers (Tamil). 1.5 Singers (Sanskrit). 5 1.5 Singers (male).

OTHERS. 10 Parasol holders. 7 Lamplighters. 8 1.0 Clerks. 5 1.0 Heralds. 400 1.0 Dancing girls. 6 1.5 Dancing masters. 2.0 2-0 Female superintendents. 4 Accountants.

NOT ASCERTAINABLE. 4 1.5 1.5 4 2.0

About music and dancing there are two views, the puritan and the utilitarian. In the Anugita, among the ' actions of the quality of passion ' and ranked with the sins prohibited in the Ten Command- ments are ' devotion to dancing, and instrumental or vocal music'. And in the laws of Manu,1 ' a student of the Veda must ... avoid ointments, collyrium for the eyes, shoes, carrying an umbrella; lust, anger, and greed, dancing, and music': and again, 'the sound of the Samaveda, which is said to belong to the Manes,2 is impure.' In Cāņakya's Arthašāstra ( Politics'),3 on the other hand, 'song, instrumental music, recitation, dancing, acting, writing, playing on the viņa, flute (venu), and drum (mrdanga), knowing the mind of others, making scents, and garlands, shampooing, employing alluring words-those who know all these and can teach them to courtesans and actors should be provided with livelihood by the state.' The power of song is a favourite theme ; here is the story of the Indian Arion. The minstrel Sagga in search of Queen Sussondi came across certain merchants of Bharukachha (Broach) who were setting sail for the golden land. He said, 'I am a minstrel (magadha). If you will remit my passage money I will be your minstrel.' They agreed. When the ship had set sail they called to him to make music for them. 'I would make music,' he said, 'but the fish would be so excited that your vessel would be wrecked.' 'Fish',

1 Circ. A.D. 200. 2 A strict Brahman purifies himself after seeing a dead body. 3 Circ. 400 B. C.

PLATE 8

Dancing girl, South India.

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LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 81

they said, 'will not be disturbed by what mortals do. Play on.' Then tuning his lute and keeping perfect harmony between the words of his song and the accompaniment of the lute-string he made music for them. The fish wcre maddened, and a certain sea- monster leaping up upon the ship broke it in two. And again, purity of singing. A hunter of Banāras captured in the Himālaya a brace of fairies (kinnara). He presented them to the king, who said, ' Hunter, what kind of creatures (kim-nāra) are these?' 'My lord, these can sing with a honey voice, they dance delightfully; no man can dance or sing as they can.' The king bestowed great reward on the hunter and commanded the fairies to sing and dance. But they thought, ' If we are not able to convey the full sense of our song, the song will be a failure, they will abuse and hurt us; and then, again, those who speak much, speak falsely.' So for fear of some falsehood or other they neither sang nor danced. Then the king said, 'Kill these creatures and cook them and serve them up to me, one for supper and the other for breakfast.' Then the fairy dame thought within herself, ' Now the king is angry, without doubt he will kill us. Now is the time to speak'; and she sang : A hundred thousand ditties sung all wrong All are not worth a tithe of one good song. To sing ill is a crime; and this is why The seeming-foolish fairy would not try. Then the king commanded to let her go, but to have the other one cooked for to-morrow's breakfast. But the other fairy thought, 'If I hold my tongue surely the king will kill me; now is the time to speak'; and he recited a couple of stanzas to make it clear that they had been silent not from unwillingness to obey the king's word, but because they saw that speaking would be a mistake. And the king said, ' He speaks the truth; 'tis a sapient fairy.' And he had the two fairies put in a golden cage, and sending for the hunts- man made him set them free in the same place where he had caught them.I A fine appreciation of good singing is to be found in the Mrccha- catika (sixth century). Two friends have just come from a concert ; 'Excellent, excellent indeed; Rebhila sang most excellently.

1 This and other stories from the Jataka are taken from Prof. E. B. Cowell's translations. Cambridge University Press, 1905. 1495 G

82 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

Smooth and sweet were the tones, articulate, full of emotion, delicate and mind-pleasing. What do I say ? Some girl seemed to be hidden in the sounds. I can hear him still; his notes are well-ordered,1 his song is soft, and the sound of the strings of the vna is in tune with the voice. The upper notes which are intro- duced into the middle of the rise and fall of the Aria have a soft close.2 He sings it as easily as a child plays with a toy. Although the music is finished, I seem still to hear it as I move.' And this scene is relieved by one in Kalidāsa's Mālarikāgnimitra (fifth century) of a medioere performanee, where two musicians are rivals, and one brings forward a pupil who performs a great feat in singing-a piece in four-time (caturpada rastu) and Andante (madhya laya)-the 'young lady of Rio', in fact, fifteen centuries ago. Pedants are dealt with in the Pañcatantra (fifth century) in the story of the musical ass, who gets out at night into the cucumber fields and joins the jackal in hedge breaking and other delights. Waxing fat and kicking, his joy takes a vocal form, and he asks the jackal in what Rag he shall sing. 'Why sing at all ?' said the jackal; 'people with coughs don't steal. Besides, your voice is about as good as --- '. 'What? I don't know how to sing? Listen to the theory of it. There are seven notes (svara), three scales (grama), twenty-one modes (mūrchana), forty-nine melodie figures (tāna), three time units (mātrā), three tempi (laya), three voice registers (sthana), six ways of singing (āsyani, lit. mouths), nine emotions (rasa), thirty-six rags (varsma), forty languages (bhāsa). This sort of singing when well performed embraces all the 185 (?) parts of song.' 'My friend,' said the jackal, 'if you must have your way I will take up my position at the gate and look out for the farmer and his boy.' They were not long in coming, and the musician learnt what it was to be an ass. The mass of legend relating to music, of which this is a mere handful, does not perhaps prove anything very definite about the state of the art in past times. But we get, in reading, an im- pression that wherever we look the attitude of the writers and the storytellers towards song and instrument, towards the purpose of music and the general praetice of musicians, has for a long time

1 Sankrama ; calculated to display the Rāga. 2 He is speaking of the return from the Antara to the Astaï; see chapter on Form.

PLATE 9

Portrait of Numa Khan Katawant, a musician of the court of Jahāngīr, from a picture in the collection of A. K. Coomaraswamy. P. 83

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 83

past been much what it is now : and if datable documents were to come to light showing that music, in the form in which we read of it in Bharata, existed many centuries before his time we should not be at all surprised.

HISTORY And now, leaving legend, the first musician we meet with who is anything more than a name is Jayadeva (circ. A.D. 1100) the author of the Gita Govinda. He was a native of Kindavilva in Bengal. He assigns to each of his poems a definite Rāg and Tal,1 which are named after the Bengali fashion. There is no musical notation; and it is open to any musician, now as then, to make or mar them by his treatment. In a poem of such delicate texture as the Gita Govinda the musical scheme could hardly fail to be a thoughtful one. The names of Rag and Tal which would be full of association to a Bengāli may connote little to us; but we may see from the mere titles how they have been used as an element in the design. The song of 'one of Radha's maidens' in praise of love with which the Gita begins is echoed by the 'Hymen o Hymenaee' at the close; both are in Rag Vasanta and Tal Yati. The voice of one 'fair, but not so fair as Radha' consoles and breathes hope which finds its fulfilment in Radha's triumphant song of reconciliation (Ramagiri; Yati). The slighted Rādha and the flouted Krishna utter their sorrows in the same accents, and in these accents they afterwards forget them (Gurjjari ; Yati). Krishna's assuring message is met by Rādhā's jealousy ; and the messenger, who is persuading her to relent, draws forth only a pitiful plaint over his neglect, to which the 'chorus' gives a new turn after Krishna's home coming (Deshivarādi ; Rūpaka). Again, Rādhā rebukes Krishna in the moving tones of Bhairavi, and his answer, when she has yielded, is in the ecstasy of Bibhās. Akbar, late sixteenth century, is reported to have loved music as much as Aurungzeb, late seventeenth, hated it. He is said to have been a good player on the Nagqārah (a drum, used in pairs) and to have composed more than two hundred melodies. He invited Miyan Tansen the pupil of Haridas Swami from the court of Rājah Rām

1 The Rāgs are Gurjjari, Deshivarādi, Mālava, Bhairavi, Rāmagirī, Mālava- ganda, Karnāța, Deshāga, Gondakirī, Vasanta, Varādi; and the Tāls Yati, Rūpaka, Ekatāli, and Astatāli. They are given here in the order of frequency of occurrence for the seventeen songs. G 2

84 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

of Baghelkhand, and loaded him with honours and gold. The Mohammedan Ain-i-Akbari says of Tansen, 'a singer like him has not been in India for the last thousand years.' The Hindus, how- ever, hold him principally responsible for the deterioration of Hindu music. He is said to have falsified the rags, and two, Hindol and Megh, of the original six have disappeared since his time. Of Tyagayyar or Tyagaraja or Thiaga Iyar of Tanjore (early nineteenth century) more is known. He was revered by his con- temporaries as a perfectly sincere and selfless man; he was an ascetic in the original sense of the word, one who 'prepared' his heart for the reception of truth. In Mudaliar Chinnaswami's Oriental Music sixty of his songs (Kritis) are printed in staff notation, accompanied by adequate indications of scale, time, and tempo. There is a list also of eight hundred more, and this is probably not exhaustive. They are all in Telugu, the most musical language of the south, as Bengali is of the north. They exhibit considerable sense of balance, as may be seen from the structure of the song, Ex. 379. They refrain from abusing the ear with ex- cessive compass, and eschew cheap contrasts, both of which are to be found in the compositions of less able musicians. He signs his songs; that is to say, he ends them with words such as 'This is the last counsel of Tyagaraja' or ' You who are the treasure of Tyaga- rāja's heart '. This is a common practice in the mediaeval songs of Germany, and may be compared with Dufay's signature ' Karissime Dufay vous en prye ' or occasionally ' Du I y', and with Palestrina's incorporation of the titles of the 119th Psalm (Aleph, Beth, &c.) into his Lamentations. Two of the syllables of Tyagarāja's name (ga-rā) would have admitted of the same treatment; but there is no instance of his adopting it. It was also a practice of his time to set the syllables of the song to the notes which they name,1 as as in the example quoted by Day, p. 72:

Sa - ra - sa sa-ma-muk-ha Pa-ra Ma-va Ma, &c. and the Indian form of ' Ut queant laxis' is (putting Ra, Ri, Ru for Db, D, D#, and Ga, Gi, Gu for Ebb, Eb, E, and so on) : 1 These are called Svarākshara's (note-syllables).

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 85

Rāgam Dhīraśankarābharaņa. Tālam Matya. (4+2+4.) Ex. 10 172.

Ri - pu-ba - la khaņ-da-nu - re Gu -ru-gu - na . . ka-ru -re

Ma yā pa - ra ta - ru - re Pa ri pā - li - ta bhu-va - nu - re

Dhī - ja - nā - ra ksha-ņu - re Nu - ta - cha ri trure

Sa - ra - sā . gre - sa - ra Sri Ra ma - chan dra

(Signature.)

pa - ri - pā - la - ya mām.

But the practice does not appear to have attractions for Tyaga- raja; he resists them at any rate in a song beginning Nidāsānu, a word which would have suggested four notes of the scale.1 Neither does he seem to be particularly in love with Svaras. Svara in the South, Sargam (i.e. Sa, Ri, Ga, Ma) in the North, means a rapid passage in which the notes are sung to the sol-fa names instead of to words as an amusing feat of skill. It takes the place of our cadenza, and like that was occasionally added by another hand. Scaras occur in only four of his sixty songs. There is a pretty story about Tyagaraja's meeting with ' Shatkāla' Govinda Mārār, a fine musician of Travancore. Shatkala means 'six-time', and 'time' is here used in the sense of 'diminutions', i. e. that a piece that had been in crotchets was now sung in quavers; and the point is that he could ' diminish' six times over, i. e. begin with his theme in semibreves and end with it in semi-demi-semi- quavers. He used to sing to a Tambura with seven strings-the ordinary Tambura has only four; and this instrument seems to have been a sort of bow of Ulysses to inferior singers; in token of which, apparently, it was adorned with a flag. They met at Tya- garaja's house at Tiruvaiyyar near Tanjore in 1843, where the 1 B, A, C, H, to be accurate.

86 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

great man was sitting with his diseiples. Mārar, after listening to the disciples, expressed a wish to hear Tyagarāja himself. 'Who is the man', said Tyagarāja in Telugu, 'that can ask me to sing?' Apparently the audience were to hear him only when he sang of his own aecord. He asked who was the man, pointing to Mārār, who sat with a flagged Tambura in his hand; and was told that Marar could sing a little. A Pallavi was then sung round, and when it eame to Govinda Mārar's turn the other instruments had to be laid aside and his Tämbura only used, so high was the pitch of the musie. He sang it in Shatkāla, and Tyagarāja, after remon- strating with the understatement of Marar's powers, improvised on the spot a song in the Śri Ragam, which is the Ragam sung at the close of performanees, of which the burden was, 'There are many great men in the world, and I respect them all.' This contrasts well with the many stories there are of professional jealousy, whieh are too unlovely to repeat here.

THE PRESENT DAY

A few notes may be added upon so mueh of the present-day music as a hurried traveller might hope to hear. In a land not blessed with eoneert advertisements or coneert notiees, it is difficult for a stranger in the first place to find the best musie, and in the second to know what the inhabitants themselves think of it. He can only remember with gratitude some of the good things it was his fortune to hear. There was some beautiful vīņā-playing at Mysore, where the general standard is high. The erisp and expressive touch and imaginative improvisation of Subbanna con- trasted well with the smooth tones and solid teehnique and exact intonation of Seshanna, of whom it was said that he eould ' put Sabbanna in his poeket and shake him about', a critieism the truth of which I was not in a position to gauge. They got by heart at my dietation 'Ye banks and braes', seleeted beeause it is in the Mohanna Rāgam, and were to improvise upon it next day, when a eoneourse assembled to hear the result. They quite entered into the spirit of the thing; Subbanna played the tune more as if he cared for it; Seshanna produeed the more ingenious variations. Afterwards they played the following in unison with the utmost accuraey :

PLATE 10

Seshanna, vīņā-player, Mysore.

Aiknāth Vishnu Paņdit, vīņā-player, Poona.

P.86

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 87

Rāgam Mohanna (Rāg Bhupkaliān). Tālam Adi. J = 120. Allegretto cantabile.

Ex 173.

83 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

Sra

Ramachandra of Trivandrum, who was suffering from rheumatism, could not play for long together. He had the expressiveness of Subbanna without his invention, and the smoothness of Seshanna without his execution. He used the lower strings more than either of them; his fingers went down firmly on the strings and gave a clear and precise tone. His favourite 'grace' was the ' Slide', whereas Seshanna's was the ' Deflect'.1 Next to the expressive vina comes the dignified surbahar, which I heard only in Calcutta, where it was played by Sourendro Banerji. Its lower strings, which are freely used, have to be struck hard in order to produce the after effect of gamak

Ex. 174.

which is a favourite opening; and this gave it a rather ponderons sound. Its frets are but slightly, it at all, moved; and there are no 'settings' (that) for the different modes as on the satār. Con- sequently much more is left to be done by gamak, especially the 'Deflect' (mnd, called in Bengal mīrh), and this contributes to its grave and dignified tone. There is also a mandolin stroke, double, with the forefinger and little finger each armed with a plectrum (misrab), which, though no less irritating as a continuance than the mandolin itself, provides a good occasional contrast. Banerji was fond of contrasting his gamakked and his fretted note, as a violinist likes to contrast his open and his stopped E. The chanterelle is away from the player's body, i. e. nearest his fingers (it is the other way on the rind), and this seemed to give better opportunity for the Deflect. Altogether there was much more mystery in the sound of this instrument than in that of the rather commonplace satār or 1 See Chapter VII.

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 89

the thin-toned North Indian lin, although I certainly did not hear these so well handled. Good drumming is commoner, perhaps, than any other form of music. It is said to take a lifetime to become a good drummer, but the comparative failures manage to give much pleasure. The most interesting exponents of this art I heard at Trivandrum. One was a boy of seven who had won a medal at Ernakulam for his skill, and who played on a drum bound with silver. He played with great solemnity, with funny little poses of the head to right or left as if he were thinking of anything else but what he was giving his whole attention to. His drumming was in the 'new style', which seemed to consist of flurry, silence, flurry, silence. After his per- formance he went to sleep during the rest of the music, and was ordered off to go and play in the verandah. The other was a man of sixty, Somaji Bhāgavatār, who ranks with Rāmachandra as a foremost musician. He was most careful about the tuning of his Mrdangam (in two F's like the Scherzo of the Ninth Symphony, but an octave higher). The upper F (right hand end) was adjusted by wedge and hammer, and gave the most trouble; the lower, on the left, by application of more or less flour and water to form the karane (Hindostani āțā). There were no antics; it was all pure drumming. A good deal of it was a quiet tapping of the time with the forefinger of the left hand; then little points appeared, and a climax, and a solo or two, and the general effect was that of reserve power. The difference between Mohammedan and Hindu singing is more easily felt than described. One's general impression, which a longer stay would no doubt have corrected in detail, is that the Moham- medan prefers the more cheerful Rāgs-Khamāj, Kāfi, and the Kalians; and the simpler rhythms, such as Titāla and Dādra; and the Rondo to the Variation form. With these he takes a consider- able amount of liberty, concealing the rhythm, especially, by inter- spersed rests, and broken phrases that run counter to it, so that it would be unintelligible sometimes without the drummer. He has the performer's instinct ; he rivets the attention of the audience as a whole, and the less able singer is apt to tear a passion to pieces rather than not challenge their admiration. The performance of the best musicians (Ustads) has a wonderful fascination in spite of the language difficulty. The phrases are finished off and fit so well

90 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

into their place, there is so much variety and so much telling gesture, that the time goes quickly by, although you may find that, with the help of another singer perhaps, he has sung for at least half an hour continuously. All this the Hindu can do too, but he does it in a less vivacious way. He is at his best in the quieter Rags like Bhairari, or the more characteristic such as Vasant or Bilhas or Todi, and in the more irregular rhythms such as Surphakta or Adachantāla. His singing is less broken up with rests, and he luxuriates in cross-rhythm. His song gives much more the impression of coming from the heart, and of reaching out for sympathy rather than for applause. You can more easily fancy him singing over his work, or her over her household duties; and, as has been mentioned, the Mohammedans have no cradle songs. There are some fine Mohammedan religious songs; they seem to treat religion more deeply and less imaginatively than the Hindus, and to produce it on occasions rather than as the natural expression of their daily life : the two songs, ' Hadi e illah ' and ' Cherarāvade- mirā', Exs. 268, 379, seem typical of the two peoples. The singing that appealed to me most was that of Chandra Prabhu at Bhavnagav. She compelled respeet at onee by refusing on any account to be phonographed ; perhaps she thought, amongst other things, that if she committed her soul to a mere piece of wax it might get broken in the train-and my subsequent experience showed that this was only too likely. She sang for an hour, three songs. The most striking of them was in 'a sort of' Bhairari, upon a theme of the Maharajah's : Ex. 175. 3

(with the drum at E, of course, all the time). The others were in Imankaliān, to which the descending F# gives an indescribably light-hearted touch, and in Bageshri (a Dorian). She used gamak sparingly, and therefore effectively; she detached the notes eleanly without making them too staceato. There was something most satisfying in the sweep of the periods, apparently haphazard but really conforming to strict law. A voice with good tone, as we understand tone, is a rarity in India; but Chandra Prabhu sang with full round notes and variety of quality in addition to the extraordinary flexibility of all her nation. But the musicianship of her song was the most notable thing about it. She never seemed to come across technieal difficulties-as that friend of

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 91

Assheton Smith's never could 'think where the young men found all these big things-he never met with them'. It is impossible to measure this sort of song by any European standards, the problem is so entirely different. With us, as with them, a singer concentrates into a single song all his knowledge and past experience, and has taken years to learn what it takes a few minutes to sing; but he is only interpreting. It seems a fresher and more convincing thing when, after an equal or perhaps larger number of years training, the song is created there and then ; when its message has never been given in quite the same terms before and never will be again. The greatest European singers are apt to be voice-producers first and musicians afterwards; the Indian singer is before all things a musician, who may happen to have a good voice, but seldom has a good tone. And it secms possible to overrate good tone; at any rate, it is surprising how much art can be heard behind a poor one. Then, too, in the absence of orchestration and of counterpoint-except such as the drum pro- vides, and of harmony-and, with that, of a certain terseness of structure, the voice has unaided to supply all the interest and to spread it over a certain lapse of time. To maintain this interest recourse is had to all those things of which a description has been attempted in the chapters on Rāga and Grace. The result is a kind of full-throated utterance quite unlike the elaborate tremolos of our singers, which often seem to resolve themselves into a battle between the voice and the accom- paniment. The nearest analogy we have is perhaps Mr. Henschel playing his own accompaniment, where the whole is under the direction of one mind and it is difficult to say whether voice or instrument is contributing most to the result. Again, the form of the song is wholly diverse: we can hardly imagine a composition without a main climax and perhaps a coda : an Indian simply stops when he has sung enough. It seems as if climax too can be over- rated as it certainly is sometimes overdone. Still, though there are plenty of minor crises in the course of the music, this absence of any convincing close remains a difficulty for us. A different kind of interest and a still greater pleasure was afforded by a visit to Rabindranath Tagore, the Bengali poet. In accordance with the best Indian tradition he is poet and musician in one. His poetry is beginning to speak to us for itself : even in a few scattered translations it is possible to hear the voice of a man

92 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

who thinks deeply and truly, who sees things as they really are, making invisible things visible as florescence does in optics, and touching them with tenderness and reverence. To hear him recite his poems is to be reminded of the way in which Tennyson is said by his biographer to have recited Maud; and indeed such a line as 'Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere' has something of the ring of Bengäli verse about it, while the terseness, the inheritance of the Sutras, of a language which is the descendant of that compact wonder, Sanskrit, we could hardly parallel short of Horace. To hear him sing them is to realize the music in a way that it is seldom given to a foreigner to do. The notes of the song are no longer their mere selves, but the vehicle of a personality, and as such they go behind this or that system of music to that beanty of sound which all systems put out their hands to seize. These melodies are such as would have satisfied Plato. 'I do not know the modes,' said Socrates, 'but leave me one that will imitate the tones and accents of a brave man enduring danger or distress, fighting with constancy against fortune; and also one fitted for the work of peace, for prayer heard by the gods, and for the successful persuasion or exhortation of men.' The portrait of Mr. Tagore which forms the frontispiece is by Mr. William Rothenstein, who has most generously lent the copy- right of it for this book. It was drawn one afternoon while the words and the songs were being transcribed; and perhaps the sympathy and fidelity of it may be taken as some compensation for the limitations imposed by a foreign language and for the inability of musical notation to convey the tones of the living voice. Mr. Tagore's translations of his own poems are given in Examples 176-180. Rāg Bhairavī, Tāl Tevra (3+2+2). +=100. Adagietto. Ex. 176. Ji - ba - ne ja - ta pu - jā ha - la - nã sā rã .

Jā - ni he jā - ni tā - o ha - i - ni hā - rã Je phul nā phu-ti - te

jho-re-chhe dha-ra-ni-te Je na- di mo-ru pa - the hā-rā - lo dhā - rā

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 93

Jā - ni he jā - ni tā - o ha - i ni hã - rã Ji - ba - ne ā - jo jā - rā

ra - ye-chhe pi - che . . Jā - ni he jā - ni tā - o ha - i - ni mi-che

Ji - ba - ne ā - jo jā - rā ra - ye-chhe pi - che Jā - ni he jā - ni tāo ..

ha - i - ni mi - che Ā - mār a - nā - ga-ta ā - mā-r(a) a - nā - ha - ta

To - mā-r(a) bi-nā tā - re bā-ji-chhe tā - rā Jā-ni he jā- ni tā - o

ha - i - ni - hā - rā Ji - ba-ne ja - ta pu - jā ha - la - nā sa - rā

Jā - ni he jā - ni tā - 0 ha - i - ni hā - rā

Jibane jata. The pujas that have not been finished in this life I know that they are not altogether lost. The flowers that have shed their petals on the dust before being full blown, and the rivers that hid their streams in the desert sand, I know, I know they have not been altogether lost. Those that lag behind in this life I know, I know that even they have not lived uselessly. All my unformed thoughts and all my unstruck melodies are still sounding on the strings of thy vinu, and I know that they have not been altogether lost.

Ba'ul tune, Tāl Dadra. .= 90. Andantino. mp Ex. 177.14

Ja - di tor dāk su - ne ke'u ná se Ta - be

mf

a - klā cha-lo re a - klā cha-lo, a - klā cha-lo, a - klā cha-lo,

94 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

a - klā cha - lo re Ja - di ke'u ka-thā nã kai 0

re, kai . 0 . re . bhā - gā ke'u ka-thā nă .

Ja - di sa-bā'i thā -ke mukh phi-rā - ye Sa-bā'i ka - re ..

bhai ta - be pa-ran khu-le 0 tui mukh phu-te tor D.C. al Fine.

ma - ner ka - thã a - klā ba - lo re

Jadi tor dāk. If no one responds to your call then go on alone. And if there is no one to speak out, and if they turn their face and are afraid, then open your heart and speak only you. Speak alone, speak alone. If every one goes back and none accompanies you in the difficult path, then tread the thorns with bloody feet alone. Tread alone, tread alone. If there is no one to light the lamp, and if every one shuts his door in the stormy dark night, then burn the ribs of your heart with the thunder fire and burn alone, burn alone.

Rag Khambāj, Tāl Ektāla. =60. Andante.

Ex. 178. Ā -mā-r(a) ka-ra to mā-r(a) bi nã la-ha go la-ha tu-

le. A - mā-r(a) ka - ra to - mā - r(a) bi nā.

1st. 2nd

U-thi-be bā - ji tan - tri tan -tri rā - ji Mo-ha - na an - gu- .

le. A - mā - r(a) ka - ra to - mā - r(a) bi nã. . .

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 95

Ko-ma-la ta- ba ka-ma-la ka-re pa-ra - sa ka-ro pa-rā - na pa-re.

U-thi - be hi- yā gun-ja - rĩ - yã ta - ba sra-va - na mu-le .

Ā - mā - r(a) ka - ra to - mā ra bi nā

Ka - kha- na su- khe ka- kha- na . . du-khe kān - di - be

cha-hi to - mã - ri mu - khe Cha-ra - nā pa-rhi ra - be ni . . ra - be

ra - hi - be ja - be bhu - lo Ke - ho nā

jā - ne ki na-ba tā .. ne U-thi-be gī - ta shu - nya pā - ne

D.C. al ..

A - nan - de - ra bā-ra -tā jā-be a nan -te - ra ku - le . .

Āmār kara tomāra binā. Make me thy vina; lift me in thine arms. All the strings of my heart will break out at thy finger-touch. With thy tender hands touch my life, and my heart will murmur her secrets in thine ears. In happiness and in sorrow she will gaze on thy face, and cry; and shouldst thou neglect her she will remain silent at thy feet. None knows in what new strains her songs will rise up to the heavens and send a message of joy to the shore of the infinite.

Rāg Jhijhit, Tāl Ektāla. J. =60. Andante. Ex. 179. = Ā - mi chi -ni go chi - ni to - mā - re 0 go bi - de shi-

96 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

ni Tu - mi thã - ko sin - dhu pã re 0 go bi - de - shi-

ni To-mā-ye de-khe-cchi sha-ra-da prā - te to-māy de-khe-cchi mā-dha-vi

rā - te to - mãy de - khe - cchi hri - di mā - jhã

re hri-di mā - jhã re 0 go bi - de shi -

• ni A-mi ā - kā-she pā - ti - yā kān su-ne-cchi su - ne - cchi to-mā - ri

f

gān ā - mi to - mā-re sam-pe-chhi prān 0 go bi - de - shi-

ni Bhu-ba-na brah-mi-yā se - she A - mi e - se - chinu-ta-na

de - she A-mia - ti-thi to - mãre dwā - re, O go bi- de - shi-ni.

Āmi chini go chini.

I know, I know thee, O thou Bideshini1; thou dwellest on the other shore of the ocean. I have seen thee in the autumn, I have felt thee in the spring night. I have found thee in the midst of my heart, O thou Bideshini. Putting my ear to the sky2 I have heard thy music, and I have offered to thee my life, O thou Bideshini. I have roamed all through the world and have come at last into the strange country. Here I am a guest at thy door, O thou Bideshini.3

1 O thou stranger lady ; perhaps, Intellectual Beauty. 2 Ákāśa, space; the source of all sound and speech. 3 Mr. Tagore writes :- 'I heard when I was very young the song "Who dressed you like a foreigner?" and that one line of the song painted such a strange picture in my mind that even now it is sounding in my memory. I once tried te compose a song myself under the spell of that line. As I hummed the tune I wrote the first line of the song "I know thee, thou stranger", and,

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 97

Rāg Kāfi. Tāl Ektāla. = 80. Andante. Ex. 180.

Ma-ma jau - ba - na ni - kun - je gã - he pā - khi Sa-khi

jā - go, jā - go, jā - go Ma-ma jau-ba - na ni - kun - je gā -he

pā - khi Me-li rā - ga a - la - sa ān - khi Me-li rā ~ ga a - la - sa

ān - khi Sa-khi jā - go, jā go Ma-ma jau - ba - na ni -

• kun - je gā - he pā - khi Ā - ji chan-cha-la é nih-shi - té jā - go

phā-gu-na gu - na gī . té a - yi pra-tha-ma pra-na-ya bhi - te Ma-ma

nan-da-na a - ta-bi - te Pi-ka mu-hu-mu - hu u-tthe dā - ki Sa-khi

if there were no tune to it, I don't know what would be left of the song. But under the spell (mantra) of the tune the mysterious figure of that stranger was evoked in my mind. My heart began to say, "There is a stranger going to and fro in this world of ours; lier house is on the further shore of an ocean of mystery. Sometimes she is to be seen in the autumn morning, sometimes in the flowery midnight; sometimes we receive an intimation of her in the depths of our heart, sometimes I hear her voice when I turn my ear to the sky .... One day, long afterwards, some one went along the road singing, "How does that unknown bird go to and away from the cage ? Could I but catch it, I would put the chain of my mind about its feet !" I saw that that Ba'ul song too said the very same thing. Sometimes the unknown bird comes to the closed cage and speaks a word of the limitless Unknown. Then the mind would keep it for ever, but cannot. What but the tune of a song could report the coming and going of this unknown bird? Because of this I always feel hesitation in pub- lishing a book of songs, for in such a book the main thing is left out. To set forth the music's vehicle and leave out the music itself is just like keeping the mouse and leaving out Ganapati himself.'

1495 H

98 LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY

jā - go, jā Ma-ma jau - ba - na ni - kun - je gā - he

pā - khi Jā-go na - bi - na gau -ra - be Na - ba ba - ku-la sau - ra-

bhé Mri-du ma- la - ya bi - ja - né . . jā - go ni-bhri-ta nir - ja-

• nó Jā- go ā - ku - la phu-la sā - jé jā - go mri-du kam-pi - ta

lā - jé Ma-mahri-da-ya sha-ya-na ma-jhé shu-na ma-dhu-ra mu-ra-ia

bā - jé Ma-ma an · ta- re thā-ki thā - kỉ Sa-khi jā - go jã

go Ma-ma jau - ba - na ni - kun - je ga - hé pā - khé.

Mama jaubana nikunje. In the bower of my youth a bird sings, 'Wake, my love, wake! Open thy love-languid eyes, my love, and awake.' There is a tremor in the midnight darkness to-night, and the air is resonant with the praise song of spring. O timorous maiden, thrilling with the mysteries of first love, listen ; in my grove of paradise a bird sings in a repeated rapture, 'Wake my love, wake!' Wake in the first fullness of thy youth, wake in the lonely stillness of starry night, fanned by the ardent breath of spring drunk with the perfume of bakula. Wake in my arms my love, a-tremble with a tender shyness, decked in a wreath of blushing rose. O listen to the sweet piping in my heart, 'Wake, my sweet love, wake.'

The rhythm of Indian song is more fluid than that of European. It seems to cost us more, so to say, to be perpetually altering the accent; it produces a certain instability which has to be made up for in other ways. But there is no feeling of instability in these songs. Such a line as,

LEGEND, HISTORY, AND THE PRESENT DAY 99

Ex. 181.

Jā-go ā - ku - la phu-la sā - jé jā - go mri-du kam - pi-ta

&c.

lā. . jé Ma - ma hri-da - ya sha-ya - na ma - jhé

flows quite as naturally as the close of Brahms's Minnelied :

Ex. 182.

Dass mein Herz. gleich die - ser Au, mög in Won - ne

blü - hen, mög' in Won ne blü hen.

These, and some others of his, show a securer balance and a stronger sense of rhythmical proportion than many Hindostani songs, and, without doing violence to the principles of the music, bind it in a closer grip.

1I 2

CHAPTER IV

THE SCALE

You can work it out by Fractions or by simple Rule of Three, But the way of Tweedledum is not the way of Tweedledee. The Jungle Book.

THE subject now to be discussed is complex. To do justice to the problems which it involves would require a large book; all that is attempted here is to state them, and to give a possible reading of the available data. Scales are a tabulation of the facts of song. In a country of the size of India these facts are very various, and that there should be one parent scale is hardly to be expected. From the facts given in Chapter I for the south, and in Chapter II for the east of that country, we should perhaps draw the following conclusions : (1) that the compass increases with the state of civilization ; (2) that there are two broad tendencies in scale-building: to step melodically to the 'next door' note, and to leap harmonically to one which is not 'next door'; (3) that the 'steps' are of various sizes, viz. anything up to, not as a rule beyond, a whole tone-although the means of defining the exact intervals was not at hand; (4) that the 'leap' from a given note is to a note which is consonant to it-for instance, an upward leap through F would generally be to A if the preceding note was E, to Ab if the preceding note was Eb ; (5) that the 'steps' seem to prevail in the south, the 'leaps' in the east ; (6) that whether 'step' or 'leap' is in use, the melody pivots on two notes which are a Fourth apart, much more rarely a Fifth. It may be observed in passing that this distinction between step and leap, between a 'melodic' and 'harmonic' scale, lies at the bottom of all music. It appears in our music in the form of 'passing' and 'substantive' notes; in two successive chords 1 the constituent notes of the second of them can be, and can only be, justified as melodic steps or as harmonic leaps from those of the first, however much the current conception of what is melody and what is harmony may grow. But, just as in our music the two

1 Chords are compressed arpeggios, and arpeggios are, or may be, skeleton scales.

THE SCALE 101

ideas were held apart to some extent and ticketed as Counterpoint and Thoroughbass respectively, but afterwards fused in Harmony, so, (7) together with the 'melodic' and 'harmonic' scales, we find every- where in India the 'complete ' scale-a scale, that is, which extends beyond the small gamut of adjacent notes, or which fills up the gaps left by the sparse notes. No melodies have been noted in India until quite modern times, so that we have no direct means of determining what those songs were of which the scales were later tabulations. But we may perhaps take remoteness of local origin to be an efficient substitute for antiquity of record; and these seven 'conclusions' may therefore not be without value as a guide to the constitution of the early forms of scale. At any rate no reading of the theory would be satisfactory if it did serious violence to the practice. Another guide is to be found in the tunings of local instruments. These are, if we can interpret them, a record of the essential notes of the melodies of the district to which the instrument belongs. Essential, because other subsidiary notes are got, or are always there to be got, by special fingerings and by varying pressure of lip or finger. We will examine some of these Ludwig Riemann1 has given, from observations made on Indian stringed and wind instruments, with the help of an Appunn's Tonmesser-scales correct to an eighth of a tone. His results for stringed instruments may be neglected because the frets undoubtedly shift by lapse of time, by handling, and by the shaking of the journey, and also because such instruments as those of the vina aud satār tribes, from which his examples are mainly taken, belong to civilized, i. e. modern, music. There is more help to be got from the wind instruments, because niceties of intonation obtained by fingering and overblowing belong rather to a fully developed art, whereas these rustic flutes would tend to be pierced in accordance with the accepted local scale, so as to save trouble in performance. The following table divides the Semitone into four parts. It will be useful to remember that the Tone2 is here 8 of such parts, the minor Third 12, the major Third 16, the Fourth 20, the Tritone 24, the Fifth 28, and the Octave 48 : 1 Über eigentümliche bei Natur- und orientalischen Kulturvölkern vorkommende Ton- reihen. Essen, 1889, pp. 3, 27-30. 2 The true relations of major Tone, minor Tone, and Semitone would be best expressed (in single figure integers) as 9, 8, and 5.

102 THE SCALE

Flute scales.

Approxi- 0 8 16 20 28 36 44 48 mate Name and Europeau 8 8 origin of Just scale. 8 8 4 8 C D EF G A BC instrument. Riemann's numbering.

1. 770 Flute, Lahore. 253 55

2. 1 74 Flute, Lahore. 4 3 5 8

Fourth. 3. 77 Flute, Lahore. 4 6 4 6 6

4. 780 Flute, Lahore. 6 6 4 4 7

5. 76 Oboe, Ceylon. 4 4 3 4 8 8

6. 75 Double flute, 4 4 4 6 4 Ludhiāna.

7. 66 Flute, Jaipur. 4 4 4 5 6

8. 7 81 Reed flute, 13 6 8 10 9 4 South India. Fourth Tritone

9. 676 Bansri flute, Tritone. 6 S 10 Mathura.

10 1 80 Flute, Kandha. 13 8 9 15 Fourth

11. 67a Bansri flute, 8 7 8 8 Mathura.

12. 766 Bansri flute, 10 1 7 8 Ludhiāna.

13. 95 Bansri flute, Fifth. 9 8 10 12 10 4 Sovala.

14. 76a Bansri flute, 6 8 6 8 Ludhiāna.

15. 65 Flute, East 8 8 8 4 8% (₣) 8 Bengal.

16. 73 Thumri doublo Fourth 8 8 8 4 10 8 10 flute, Lahore. and Fifth. 17. 70b 8 8 4 8 8 (A) 8 10 Nai flutes, Kashmīr. 18. 70a

8 4 8 8 8 (A) 8 9

THE SCALE 103

We have no hint as to which note is to be regarded as the tonic, though it would be a reasonable guess to consider the lowest note to be so as a rule, bccause the large majority of Indian melodies are authentic, not plagal. Ignoring any suggestion of that sort, the arrangement adopted here is to group together those scales which respectively make (1) the Fourth, (2) the Tritone, (3) the Fifth, or (4) the Fourth and the Fifth, their basis, placing between the groups those which show approximations to these intervals. Where there might be doubt as to which interval was intended, a slur, or if an approximation a dotted slur, has been added. We must not argue from these eighteen scales to any preference for a particular size of interval, for neither do we know how repre- sentative this list, a merc handful of the flutes of India, may be, nor can we hope to base anything upon the sporadic list of ' origins'. But a given scale tends to consist, on the whole, of one size of interval, showing that there was an average feeling, varying of course locally, of the sort of distance it was to the 'next door' note. We see, however, that in no scale is this distance uniform. The scale is conceived 'diatonically ', that is to say, mixing up large and small intervals. This throws light incidentally on a statement of Aristoxenus that 'it is impossible to hear three next door notes in succession '.1 The interest of this table centres in the basic intervals (Fourth, Fifth, &c.) and the way they are filled up. So far as this small list may be considered to be representative, we find in it the largest group based on the Fourth, the next largest on the Fourth and Fifth together. This corroborates the conclusions from the Folk- songs given above. But more interesting is the appearance of the Tritone as a base, and of the various approximations to it. There was a fairly large number of songs which employed this interval in Chapters I and II; so that it must be taken as an important factor of scale.

1 His name for them is 'passage-note' (diesis). Gevaert (Musique de l'Antiquité, vol. i, p. 285) thinks that there is a tinge of exaggeration in this statement ; but it is possible to believe that Aristoxenus meant what he said. He always sub- scribes to the musical not the acoustical view, and his words must be taken to mean not that the mind cannot think these intervals in the abstract, but that the voice will not sing them in the concrete; that they are what we should call 'unvocal'. This may be observed whenever a village choir wrestles with three or four semitones in succession.

104 THE SCALE

Also, in no case (until the last four examples, where the scale is thoroughly established) is the basic interval filled in in exactly the same way. There are signs, indeed (especially in Nos. 1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, and 12), that the process was to supplement a chosen melodic interval by a residue. In No. 1, for instance, the general scheme involves large semitones (5, 5, 5). But the tetrachord begins with a quarter-tone (2), and to this there is a residue in a larger quarter- tone (3). There are also signs of a practice which is familiar to us,1 of sharpening the higher intervals. In No. 7 the semitones get larger as they ascend ; in No. 13 the tones. In Nos. 8 and 13 the octave is sharp; in Nos. 16, 17, 18 the eighth note is considerably sharp on the octave. In No. 10 the octave is the first harmonic. In no other case is the octave true. This shows that the octave was not con- sidered a basic interval in the sense in which the Fourth, Tritone, and Fifth were; and this again accords with what we find in the songs. There is no accounting for this Tritone: it must be accepted as a fact.2 It may have been arrived at by a series of Tones, as Nos. 9-12 would seem to suggest; or it may be the result of a shift of tonic-e.g. B-E becoming C-F, with a resultant interval B-F-in support of which view some arguments will be adduced later. But in any case it is a fundamental fact of Indian music. The Carnatic system classifies the Ragams into those which employ the Fourth and those which employ the Tritone as basic interval (Śuddhamadhyama and Pratimadhyama), and it will be seen that the same principle underlies the Rāgs of Hindostan. It might be supposed that F# (in C-F# G) was felt as a leading note to G merely, were it not that it is used in many Rāgs with obvious pleasure in descent also; and we must conclude that Indians value the Tritone for its own sake. We turn now to the theory. There are in all about three dozen Sanskrit musical works which may be dated with varying degrees of confidence; they are, with the exception of half a dozen (marked with an asterisk), as yet unpublished, and the MSS. are scattered 1 Pianoforte tuners have found by experience that the English public likes to have the upper octaves tuned sharp, as being more brilliant. The rise in pitch since Handel's time is said to be due to the desire to secure greater brilliance by tuning brass instruments sharper than normal. 2 Cp. the Kanwar's tuning on p. 31, and the progression of the bass in Debussy and Stravinsky.

THE SCALE 105

about in various Indian and a few European libraries. A list, extracted from Aufrecht's and other catalogues, is here given, in case it should be of use to future students of the subject :

LIST OF SANSKRIT AUTHORITIES

Title. Author. Date. Nāțyaśāstra* Bharata First seven centuries of our era; there is a slight probability that it belongs to the late 5th cent. Sangītaratnākara* Sārñgadeva. 1210-1247. Sangītopanishad Sangītopanishadsāra Sudhākalāśa 1324.

Rāsikapriyā Sangītamīmānsā Rāna Kumbhakarņa Mahi- circ. 1450. Sangītarāja mendra Sangītaratnākaratīka* Kallinātha . 1460 (or 1560). Sangītasāra Harināyaka (?) 1500, or earlier. Anandasanjīvana. 1528. Rāgamāla Madanapāladeva

Svaramelakalānidhī* Kshemakarņa 1570. Tīmamatya Sangītaratnākara. Bhanuraka Nartaņanirņaya Rāgamañjarī Cighrabodhinināmamāla Şadrāgacandrodaya Pandarīkavittala Second half of16th cent.

Rāgamāla Sangītavrttaratnākara Rägavibodha* 1609 Hṛdayaprakāśa Somanātha . Hrdayanārāyaņa Early 17th cent. Sangītānūpānkuśa Bhavabhatta circ. 1640. Sangītadarpana* Sangītasărasangraha* Dāmodara Miśra 1560-1647.

Sangītabhāskara Rājah Jagajjyotirmalla circ. 1650. Anūpasangītavilāśa Muralīprakāša. Nastoddistaprabhodaka- - Bhavabhatta circ. 1680.

dhraupadatīka Sangītamakaranda Veda . End of 17th cent. Sangītadāmodara. Subhankara Before 1700. Sangītanārāyaņa Purushottama Mishra 1730, or before. Sangītanārāyaņa Nārāyanadeva Before 1765. Sangītaparijāta* Ahobala Pandit 18th cent. Sangītasārāmritā. Rājah Tulajī circ. 1770.

These catalogues contain references also to thirty-eight more of which the author and the locale of the MS., but not the date, is known; fourteen of which the author only is known; and seventeen of which the locale of the MS. only is known. Total 103. The twenty-eighth adhyaya of Bharata which is concerned with musie (the subject of the work being the drama) has been translated into French by Jean Grosset. Mr. Clements's Introduction to the Study of Indian Music, 1913, gives extracts from Bharata and Sārngadeva.

106 THE SCALE

The Ragavibodha of Somanatha is in course of translation in the Indian Musical Journal, Mysore. It will not be possible to speak with confidence about Indian theory until all the important books have been adequately translated. What is here said is taken from Grosset's translation of Bharata.

We begin with the explanation of a few technical terms. Grāma, lit. 'village', as opposed to jungle (aranya), means a civilized as opposed to an unsophisticated scale.1 The name has been applied specifically only to three scales-the Sa-grāma, our major with a sharpened Sixth, the Ma-grama, our major C-c, but intended presumably to be used as an F-f scale with a sharpened Sixth, and the Ga-grama, possibly intermediate between these two, long obsolete. That, lit. 'array', is used in Hindostan for the setting of the frets of a string instrument (especially the satār or surbahar) for the purpose of playing in a given mode. But, as one setting will do for several modes, That, which takes the name of one typical mode- e. g. Bhairarī That, or Kafi That-has a classifying sense. The South Indian term for this classificatory sense is Melakarta, lit. 'group maker', because it groups together several Ragams ; though it does not seem to be applied to 'setting', and, indeed, I never met with a Satar in the south. Murchaņa (Sanskrit), murchhana (Hindostani), from a root murch, ' to increase', means primarily the ' swelling of sound' and seems to have been applied originally to high and low pitch and to have meant the rise and fall of the voice in song. Then it came to have the technical sense of (1) a rise and fall from and to a particular note of a specific scale, and in this sense is accurately translated by 'mode'. (It may be worth mentioning that the mūrchanas are always given as a descending series.) But since the note on which they started was the most important and was generally ornamented with a grace note, murchhana has come to mean (2) grace note as applied to a particular Rag. When grace is otherwise applied, i. e. not to single out the predominant note of a Räg, it has either the general name Gamak or the particular names Mind or Ghasit. These are treated of in a later chapter. In the old sense of the word the 'mode' consisted of seven notes, i. e. two tetrachords, so that 1 The usual explanation is that the notes are arranged in a scale as mankind are in a village, which gives rather a poor sense.

THE SCALE 107

murchana may (3) be held also to translate the Greek harmonia (heptachord). Rāga, from a root rañj, 'to be dyed, to glow ', means ' colour'; hence colour of mind, i. e. emotion. Its European analogue will therefore be whatever gives colour to a piece of music; and since this may be according to circumstances melody, harmony, counter- point, or instrumentation, but most of all harmony, we have no real equivalent for a word which applies technically only to melody. Rāga is connected with Rakti, 'affection'. Rāga is Sanskrit, and is used in this book when the general sense is intended; Rāg is North Indian, and Rägam South Indian. The same is the case for Talu, Tal, and Tālam (time). Its usual translation is ' melody-type', or ' melody-mould', or even 'tune'. If it must be translated, perhaps 'Mood' would convey as much as is compressible into one word. Its definition is rather long, and will not mean much until the chapter on Rāga has been read :- An arbitrary series of notes characterized as far as possible as individuals, by proximity to or remoteness from the note which marks the tessitura, by a special order in which they are usually taken, by the frequency or the reverse with which they occur, by grace or the absence of it, and by relation to a tonic usually reinforced by a drone. Although Indians never confuse the masculine Rāg with the feminine Rāgiņī 1 the attributes of these are indistinguishable. Saptaka, a 'set of seven', takes the place .of our word ' octave'; the saptaka contains seven svaras, i. e. not notes, but intervals between them; and all Indian notations assume three saptakas, a higher (tāra), middle (madhyu), and lower (mandra), arrived at as the average compass of the human voice (in their art songs). Svara, from root srri, 'hear', is also a degree of the scale, or a dia- tonic note. It may be natural (śuddha) or chromatic (vikrta). 'Natural' means not a 'white' note, but 'proper to the scale', whatever the scale may be. Vikrta notes are sharp (tīvra) or flat komala), Very sharp (atitīvra) or very flat (atikomala). F is the only note which is sharpened, and it has three degrees of sharpness -F (ma ticra), F# (ma tīvratar), FE (ma tivratam).2 F being

1 ' Rag' means strictly one of the Six Original Rāgs; all others are considered to be descendants of these, and are called Rāgiņīs. 2 -tar and -tam are the Greek -teros and the Latin -timus (e.g. finitimus, optimus, &c.).

108 THE SCALE

rarely used the names are more often moved on one place, so that Fi is ma tivra and FE ma tivratar. Three degrees of flat- tening are sometimes wanted for D, E, A, B: Db is Ri atikomal, Dh Ri komal, and D is sometimes called Ri madhya (middle).1 b

Tivra and komal are, literally, 'strong' and 'tender'. Divine attributes are assigned to all the svarus. Their full names are- C, śadja; D, rśubha; E, gāndhāra; F, madhyama; G, pañcama; A, dhaivata; B, niśada; and their abbreviations Sa, Ri, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni. In South India D5, D, DE are called Ra, Ri, Ru (as the Tonie Sol-fa system names them Ra, Ray, and Re) and the others analogously. In old music the svara names the interval; when it names the note it names the note above the interval; thus, Ga means the interval E-F, and in old books the note F, in modern parlance the note E. Śruti, from root śru, 'hear', is the (smallest) 'audible sound'. Like the svara it names both the interval and the note. The twenty- two śrutis have special names, and specific attributions of divine qualities lie no doubt concealed in these. The first of them, i. e. C-Db, is called Tivra (sharp) ; the other names are obscure. Vādī, samvādī, anuvādī, vivādī (translated 'sonant', consonant', 'assonant', 'dissonant') are survivals of a theory of consonance (samvāditva) now forgotten. Samvādī definitely means the con- sonance of Fourth or Fifth, as we should say ' Perfect consonance'. Vādi is the note to which it is so related. Vivādē is applied by Bharata to the Semitone. He speaks (verse 24) of notes being vivadi to one another when they are at the distance of twenty srutis. This is the same thing as two śrutis (22-20), which reading actually appears in another manuseript. Anuvadi is the name for 'all other relations which are not vādī, samrādī, and vivādī'. These three relationships belong to the tetrachord, and presumably anuvādī does too. Current tradition makes anuvādī the major Third. But Bharata says 'all other' (sesha), as if more than one relationship was anuvādi. If it is possible to suppose that in the term anuvādī he ineluded the major and minor Tone (which together make up the major Third) all the determining elements of Bharata's scale (see below) would be accounted for. In discussing the seale (grama) the first difficulty which confronts 1 ' Intermediate ' between Ri suddha and Ri komal, D and Db.

THE SCALE 109

us lies in the double meaning of svara, 'note' and 'interval'.I Does the Sa-gräma, for instance, begin with the Sa-interval, or on the S-note? In the former case it will begin on what we should call C (the Indian N), in the latter on our D (the Indian S). Bharata gives some colour to the latter view in verse 25, where he says the arrangement of the śrutis in the Sa-grāma is 3, 2, 4, 4, 3, 2, 4-i. e. that they begin with the svara Ri, which is of three śrutis, and therefore on the S-note (our D). But if we reflect that the scale is always spoken of as a 'set of seven ' (sc. intervals), whereas it consists actually of eight notes, that these seven are always given as beginning with Sa, and that a scale so taken (from N-note or Sa-interval) satisfies the demands of the practice (in Chapters I and II), we shall not be disposed to attach too much importance to this obiter dictum of verse 25, even supposing that were the only way in which it could be interpreted. We assume, therefore, that the Sa-gräma begins with the Sa-interval, on the N-note (our C). But there is a second difficulty, which Mr. Clements's recent book raises. Was the grama a scale beginning on a definite note at all, or was it not rather a gamut, a continuous series, which might be started at any point, but which differed from some other grāma by having one place where the series diverged? But there is the difficulty of the names. Why were they called Sa-grāma, Ma-grāma, unless they had some obvious connexion with Sa and Ma? And what could that connexion be except that they began there? The distinction between grāma (scale) and mūrchaņa (mode) may well be, essentially, that between genos and harmonia (scale and mode), only that the Indian grama did and the Greek genos did not begin on a particular note. In assigning the śrutis thus, for the Sa-grāma, Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni 4 3 2 4 4 3 2 Indian theory is indicating the relative sizes of the major Tone (4), the minor Tone (3), and the Semitone (2) with accuracy sufficient for its purpose. Complete accuracy would demand 4-08, 3.64, and

1 Bharata speaks of two sraras (notes) being samvādī when they are nine śrutis (a Fourth) or thirteen śrutis (a Fifth) apart. Again, he speaks of Sa (one of the svaras) as 'of' four śrutis, meaning the interval from the note N to the note S. [Sa is hereinafter used for the interval, S for the note.]

110 THE SCALE

2.24 respectively.1 The Ma-grama is formed from this by the interchange of the śruti-values of Pa and Dha; 'Dha takes one śruti from Pa'-thus: Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Ma-grāma 4 3 2 4 3 4 2

But the Ma-grama is so called, we must think, because it begins on the note Ma. Hence the scale intended is : Ma Pa Dha Ni Sa Ri Ga 4 3 4 2 4 3 2

But there is a third scale, the Ga-grama, which is not mentioned by Bharata. It is said by Srñgadeva to have 'retired to Indra- loka' (heaven). In spite of this, however, he knows how it was formed. When (a) Ga takes one śruti from Ri and one from Ma, (b) Dha takes one śruti from Pa, (c) Ni takes one śruti from Dha and one from Sa, then this arrangement is what Narada taught us as the Ga-grāma. The process is as follows : Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Sa-grāma 4 3 2 4 4 3 2

(a) 4 2 4 3 4 3 2

(b) 4 2 4 3 3 4 2 (c) 3 2 4 3 3 3 4 Ga-grāma begiuning 4 3 3 3 4 3 2 on Ga The three gramas, put for comparison together, are : Sa-grāma 4 3 2 4 4 3 2

Ga-grāma 4 3 3 3 4 3 2

Ma-grāma 4 3 4 2 4 3 2

and the notes of which these are composed may be represented by :

Sa-grāma C D E F G B C

Ga-grāma C D E B C

Ma-grāma CDE F# G B C

1 That the numbers 4, 3, and 2 do represent these intervals is usually taken for granted. It appears to depend ultimately on the current tradition that anuvādi means the major Third; that is to say, that early theory recognized the major Third and not the Ditone, i. e. the major and minor Tone and not two major Tones.

THE SCALE 111

In favour of this explanation, which is in principle that adopted in Mr. Clements's book, it may be said (1) that the Ga-grāma is thus made a true grama and differs from the Ma-grama (as that did from the Sa-grama) by the alteration of one śruti only; and (2) the difference between the three gramas lies in the treatment of the F, and this is just the difference we were led to expect by the Folk-songs, and still more by the flute tunings. Against it, however, it must be said (1) that this explanation is based on a solitary passage of a thirteenth-century writer, and that the scheme of the other two grämas, given in full by a writer of the fifth century A.D., the principle of which can be traced to the fifth century B. c., makes no mention of a third grāma; and (2) it is difficult to imagine so much prestige 1 as belongs to the gāndhāra scale attaching to a series of notes which makes the principal interval (the Fourth) break the law of consonance by consisting of ten śrutis instead of nine. The Ga-grama must, one would think, have been some series of notes which is as fundamental a part of Indian music as the other two grāmas arc. But the directions of the Ratnākara may be taken in another way. The Ga-grama may be intended there to be derived not from the Sa-grāma, but from the Ma-grāma. Thus :

Ma-grāma 4 3 2 4 3 4 2

(a) 4 2 4 3 3 4 2

(b) 4 2 4 3 2 5 2

(c) 3 2 4 3 2 4 4

This is the scale A B C D E F G Ã, which is open also to the objection of having the Fifth A-E consisting of twelve instead of thirteen śrutis. But in an early, i. e. a vocal, scale the Fifth is not nearly so important as the Fourth ; and that is perfect (3+2+4 = 9). We notice also that, though derived here from the Ma-grāma, it is a mode of the Sa-grama (and not a distinct grama), and with that we leave it for further discussion in Chapter X.

1 The Harivamsā (fourth century A. D.) speaks with enthusiasm of music com- posed in the āgāndhāragrāmarāga, 'the scale which comes down to gāndhāra,' i.e. which, if taken upwards, begins on Ga. The Mahābhārata speaks of ' the sweet Gāndhāra', and this implies a mode or scale, since no note is sweeter than anotler until it has a context.

112 THE SCALE

The Å of the Sa-grama and Ma-grama differed from A by the

Comma of Didymus ( Major Tone 81 Minor Tone = 80 = 22 Cents). Bharata calls this comma the 'indicative' (pramāna) śruti. He uses it for the tuning of the rīņā. Take two rinās, he says, alike in all respects, and tune them both in the Sa-gräma. On one of them diminish Pa [i.e. lower the note P so as to form our Al instead of A] by this pramāņa śruti, but in such a way that the Pa of the Sa-grāma can be put back again. This is the diminution of one śruti. By a second dimi- nution Ga [on one vīņa] becomes Ri [on the other], and, similarly, Ni becomes Dha. [The second śruti, then, is the difference between the pramana śruti and the Semitone, and the śrutis were therefore not equal in size.] By a third diminution D and R of one rīnā coincide with P and S of the other; and by a fourth diminution P, M, and S coincide with M, G, and N. This scheme shows the twenty-two śrutis of the two grāmas. The only thing this establishes is that the śrutis were not equal in size. They are of three sizes: (1) the difference between the major and minor Tone, the pramāna śruti, twenty-two Cents; (2) the difference between the minor Tone and the Semitone, seventy Cents; and (3) the difference between the Semitone and the pra- māņa śruti, ninety Cents. He does not tell us in what order these diminutions are to be made; and if we took him literally, and made them successively downwards from each note we should get quite a wrong idea of his scale. What that scale is we discover from his account of the jātis. There are seven modes (mūrchaņā) of each of the two grāmas, i. e. fourteen in all; but only seven of these fourteen are in practical use under the name of jatīs, species. In the following table each mode is given as from a common tonic. The constituent units of the Sa-grāma (4 3 2 4 4 3 2) are successively added, and each mūrchana begins on a different one of these notes. The same is done for the Ma-grama, giving another set of seven mūrchanas, each of which differs in one note, and only one, from some mode of the Sa-grāma.

BHARATA'S Mūrchaņas AND Jātīs.

1495 Mūrchana. Jātī.

Abhirudgatā D mode 0 5 9 16 18 22 Arsabhi.

... ... 3 ... ... ... 13

... ... ... ... ...

Aśvakrāntā E mode 0 2 6 10 13 15 19

... ... ...

... ... ... :

Matsarīkṛta F mode 0 4 8 11 13 17 20 22

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... .

Šuddhaśadjā G mode 0 4 7 ... 9 13 18 22

... ... 16

... ... ... ...

: :

Uttarāyatā A mode ... ... ... 18 Dhaivatī.

O 3 5 9 12 14 22

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

... .

Rajanī ode O 2 6 9 11 15 19

... ... 22 Nisādinī.

... ...

... :

:

• Uttaramandrā (C mode) O 4 7 9 13 17 20 22 Şadjī.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sa-grāma C b F

Db Db D Eb FR Fr b, Ab Ab A A Bb Bb B C

Suddha- Ma-grāma, i 0 4 7 9 13 16 20 22

... ...

:

... ... ... ... ... ...

:

madhyamā (C mode) D mode 0 3 9 12 16 18 22

Kalopannatā 5

.. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

... .

Harinaśvā E mode 0 2 6 9 ... 13 19

... ... ... 15 22 Gāndhārī.

... ... ...

:

... ... ... ...

: 7 11 13 17 20 ... 22 Madhyamā.

Sauvirī F mode o ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ...

: :

:

:

(Ma-grāma, ii)

Hṛśyakā G mode 0 3 7 9 13 16 18 Pañcamī.

...

.. ... ... 22

... ... ... ...

0 6 10 13 15 19 22

4

Pauravī A mode ... ...

:

:

B mode 0 9 18

... 2 6 ... 11 15 22

...

Margī : :

:

114 THE SCALE

We will now digress for a moment to record an important date in this connexion. The scheme as a whole is much earlier than Bharata. The theory of consonance (samvaditva), or at least the terminology which that theory uses (samvādī, anuvādī, vivādī), is alluded to in the Mahābhārata (14, 14, 19). The date of the Mahabhārata is generally considered to be 400 B. c .- 200 A. D., and the fourteenth is a late book. The author gives as the 'ten elements of sound' the seven notes of the scale (Sa, Ri, Ga, &c.), and three others, ista, anista, and samhata (lit. 'agreeable ', 'disagreeable', and ' struck to- gether'). These last are described as 'classificatory' (pravibhāgavān) ; and it is tempting, therefore, to see in them the terms 'assonant', 'dissonant ', and ' consonant' with which we are familiar. But a much more important passage is to be found in the Rkpratiśākhya, which is probably not later than 400 B. c. It is there said that there are twenty-one notes in all, seven for each voice register (sthana)-the lower (mandra), the middle (madhya), and the upper (uttama).1 These seven notes (of the octave, or of course twenty-one of the three octaves of the gamut) are described as twins (yama). 'Each twin is separated from its fellow by such a small distinction that from one point of view the diffcrence is hardly perceptible; yet, from another, the two are distinct things.' The metaphor of 'twins' describes so accurately the pairs of scales we have been discussing, which are identical in six notes and differ in the seventh by an almost imperceptible interval, and puts the finger so nnerringly upon the salient point of the system, that there can be little doubt as to the reference. This highly elaborate system may, then, be dated back beyond the time of Aristoxenus, to the fifth century B. c., and, like his, points to a long antecedent period of development.2 It appears from the table of murchanas that all the twenty-two śrutis except the first and twenty-first are accounted for. These two are inserted, by analogy, in the next diagram in square brackets as consonant notes from the eighth and tenth śrutis respectively. If we take account of the jatis only, we find that these two, the eighth and the tenth, are not in use; they are accordingly placed in

1 The modern name for the upper register is tāra. 2 See Weber's Indische Studien, the eighth volume of the Beiträge für die Kunde des indischen Altertums, pp. 262 and 271.

THE SCALE 115

round brackets. No. 11 is arrived at in two ways, with different results. In the following diagram column I gives the constituent elements of each note in terms of the major Tone (a = g), the minor Tone (b = 1.°), and the Semitone (c= 1§). Columns IV and V give the representative fractions, distributed into ' quintal' (those derived from the Fifth (2) alone), and ' tertian' (those derived jointly from the Fifth and the Third (4)). Column II gives the equivalent of these in cents,1 and Column III their differences (or, speaking

1 Cents are a set of slightly modified logarithms of fractional ratios between 1 and 2, and represent musical intervals within the compass of an octave (2) correct to the hundredth part of a semitone. The system is explained in Appendix XX of the second edition of Ellis's Translation of Helmholtz's Sensations of Tone. (This appendix is not in the first edition.) For the following statement of the theory, and of practical rules for finding cents, the writer is indebted to the kindness of Mr. T. B. W. Spencer, of Wellington College : The number of cents corresponding to any musical interval must satisfy two conditions, namely, that the addition and subtraction of cents should correspond to the product and quotient of the intervals they represent ; and also that 1200 cents should correspond to the interval 2, that is the interval between a note and its octave. The first condition is satisfied by representing any interval by its logarithin to any base; the second, by mnltiplying these logarithms by some factor. Using common logarithms, the logarithm of 2 is .3010300. As the number of cents corresponding to this interval is 1200, the factor that the logarithms

must be multiplied by is 1200 -3010300 that is by 3986.

The rule, then, to find the number of cents corresponding to any interval is as follows : Find the common logarithm of the ratio, and multiply the result by 3986. Example. If the ratio is g, the logarithm of g is .0511525. Multiply this by 3986, and the result is 204 to the nearest whole number. The above is the only accurate rule, but as it is intelligible only to those who are acquainted with logarithms, we proceed to obtain a rule for calculating cents by means of elementary arithmetic. The common logarithm of any fraction ") is given by the formula 1 (m-n)5+ ... } 113 +5(m+7 which is proved in every book on Higher Algebra. The number of cents is 3986 times this expression, that is, number of cents corresponding to - is n 3986x2x .43429 m-n 1 (m-n) 13 5 T3 m+n/ + 5 m+n + ...

that is, 3462 x +1154 x +692 .m+ m +7 + ....

I 2

116 THE SCALE

in ratios, their quotients). Columns VI and VII are adjust- ments proposed by Mr. Clements on the strength of observations taken by Mr. Deval of Poona on a dichord : his two tertian intervals are a Fourth apart, and his two septimal, a Fifth. [Septimal inter- vals are derived from the septimal seventh ; % = 969 cents.]

If we take - less than 4 m-^ is less than - and 692 (m-") is less than n 3' m+n .04; therefore this term and all those after it may be neglected. Also

1154x is less than 1154 x =3, that is, less than 3.4; hence to the nearest

whole number this term is either 0, 1, 2, or 3. It is therefore simpler to calculate the number of cents, corresponding to , m

from the formula 3462 x m-n m + n' and add 1, 2, or 3 as required.

No simple rule can be given which will always give the correct result. The following, although slightly more complicated than that given by Ellis in his article on 'The musical scales of various nations' in the Journal of the Society of Arts for March 27, 1885, has the advantage of being more accurate. (a) If the ratio is less than 4, multiply 3462 by the difference of the numerator and denominator, and divide by their sum, obtaining the quotient to the nearest whole number. If this quotient is over 262 add 1, 378 448 2, 2, 3. (b) If the ratio is greater than § and less than 2, multiply the larger number by 3 and the smaller by 4 and proceed as before, and finally add 498 to the result. (c) If the ratio exceeds 2, multiply the larger number by 2 and the smaller by 3 and proceed as in (a), and add 702 to the result. Examples : (a) The ratio is 10. Multiply 3462 by 1 and divide by 19. Result, 182. (b) The ratio is 45. Multiply 45 by 3 and 32 by 4, giving 125, difference 7, sum 263. Then 3462×7 263 = 92.

Add 498 and the result (in cents) is 590. (c) The ratio is 2. Multiply 7 by 2 and 4 by 3, giving 14, i. e. g. Then 3462 13 = 266.

Since 266 is more than 262, add 1 as well as 702. The result is 266+1 +702 =969, the cents required.

Fractional ratios. Adjustments.

Constituents. Cents. Differences. Quintal. Tertian. Cents. Ratios.

I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII.

( 22. 3a+26+2c 1200 90 2 2 C

... ...

Ni. (21. [Samvādī to No. 8] [1110] 29. [243:128] 1108 256:135

... (tertian)

20. 3a+26+c 1088

21. 3a+b+2c 1018 70 15:8 B

...

Dha. 9:5 Bb

...

18. 2a+2b+2c 996 22 b

16:9 Bb

... ...

90

( 17. 3a+b+c 906 27:16 ... A

16. 884 22

2a+26+c 5:3 A.

... ...

Pa. 15. 2a+b+2c 814 8 :5 Ab

... ... THE SCALE

14. 22 b

a+26+2c 792 128:81 787 63:40 Ab

13. 2a+b+c 702 90 (septimal)

3:2 G

... ... ...

a+26+c 680 22

12. 70 40:27 F#

... ... ...

Ma. 11. a+b+2c 510 20 64:45

... 45:32 S 610 64:45 F#

2a+b 590 ... (tertian)

10. (2a + c) (520) 70 (27 :20) F

22

9. 198 4:3 F

...

Ga (2a) (408) 90

8, (81:64) E

7. 386 22 ... 5:4 E

...

6. a+C 316 6:5 Eb

... ... ...

Ri. b

5. b+c 294 22 90 32:27 Eb

...

4. 204 9:8 D

... b

22

Sa. 3. 182 70 10:9 D

... ... ...

2. 112 16:15 Db 117

... ... ...

90 b

1. [Samvādī to No. 10] [22] [81:80] 85 21:20 Db

... (septimal

--

N. 0. () 1

118 THE SCALE

It may be noticed that since the Ma-grama (43 2 43 4 2), which is identical with our major scale, can be treated in the same way, it would have been open to Europeans to divide the octave similarly into twenty parts. Having a different object in view we have preferred to do two things. First, we have ' merged' nearly iden- tical intervals; that is, we have made one note do duty for two. Thus, Eo is 204+112 = 316, and Di is 386-112 = 274; and we have made 316 do duty for both notes. And secondly, since we wished to have all the relations of the successive notes of the key the same, on whatever note the key began, we have 'tempered'; that is, we have made the major Tone, minor Tone, and Semitone expressible in terms of each other by adopting a compromise. Thus 204, 182, and 112 have been altered to 200, 200, and 100. With these particular intervals the falsity of intonation does not seriously matter; but since it involves reducing the Fifth, 702, to 700, and increasing the major Third,1 386, to 400, the falsity on some instruments and in certain connexions is very apparent. There are purists who regret this, and others who do not appreciate the reason for it-that we have an ample compensation in Harmony, which it alone makes possible. If India were ever to adopt Harmony it would be driven eventually to the same or a similar device; there is not, permanently, any half-way house.2 Bharata's is the North Indian theory of grama, though, as we have seen, it touches the South Indian theory also in one point, the division of Raga into two classes, those which have the Fourth and the Tritonc respectively for basic interval. But in other points the South Indian theory diverges. First, the Carnatic system 'merges'; it recognizes not twenty- two, but only sixteen nominal and twelve real sub-divisions of the scale :

MODERN CARNATIC SCALE. C Sa (śuddha) B Ni kākali A# Bb Dha shatśruti Ni kaiśiki A Bob Dha catuhśruti Ni śuddha Ab Dha śuddha

I The ear perceives these relations immediately, but those of the Tone, &c., mnediately. 2 See Appendix.

THE SCALE 119

G Pa (śuddha) Fi Prati-madhyama F Śuddha-madhyama E Ga sādhāraņa Di Eb Ri shatśruti Ga antara D E52 Ri catuhśruti Ga śuddha Db Ri śuddha C Sa (śuddha)

N.B. Suddha, natural, normal. Catuśruti, of four śrutis. Shatśruti, of six śrutis. Antara, interval. Sādhāraņa, twilight. Prati-, mock-, counter -. Kaiśiki, hair's-breadth. Kākali, low, quiet. The Hindostani system ran :

śrutis 4 5 6 7

D b E E 204 294 316 386

The Carnatic system, by calling the D#-Eb note shatśruti 1 (6-sruti), selects the 316 rather than the 294. The second point which is peculiar to the Carnatic, or Dravidian, system is the designation śuddha as here applied. It will be seen that the śuddha notes taken by themselves form the scale C Db D-F G Ab A-C whereby each tetrachord is filled by two semitones and a 'residue'. This is identical in form with the ancient Greek chromatic. Not only is this chromatic scale apparent in the nomenclature, but Rāgams in this mode (or scale) were once popular, though now somewhat neglected. In the scheme of Grāmarāgas in the Ratnā- kara and rhe Svaramela-kalānidhī (both of the sixteenth century) the first on the list, by name Mūkhārī, is in this scale, and is plenti- fully filled with Rägams, showing that it was popular and was

1 The nomenclature of this scale has a long history behind it, much of which will be found in Mr. Clements's book. Some of the names are transferred from the Hindostani system, e. g. Kākali, Kaisiki, Sādhārana, Antara, where they had a precise meaning which they have here lost.

120 THE SCALE

considered the natural one to put first.1 [Grāmarāga is an early name for melakarta.] Popular favour has now, however, been transferred to another scale, Māya-Mālavagaula : C Db-E F G Ab-B C It looks as if the second of these two scales had developed from the first by way of modal shift of tonic. These five notes Māyamālavagaula. Ex. 183. ba

Mūkhārī.

show the characteristic tetrachord of each chromatic scale. The two complete scales compare thus : Authentic Māyamālavagaula. Ex. 184.

Plagal Mūkhārī. This would sound too ingenious to be true were it not that a strictly analogous thing has happened with Greek music. The modern form of Greek chromatic is : C Db E F Gb A Bh 2 and the two, ancient and modern, complete scales are therefore Modern Greek (plagal). Ex. 185.

Ancient Greek (authentic). The Carnatic scale has, then, a chromatic basis; and the Greeks held that the chromatic preceded the diatonic.3 The latter we found in Hindostan taking shape in three, according to one explana- tion, but at any rate in two gramas which differed from each other by one śruti, precisely as the 'hard' and 'soft' varieties of the Greek diatonic differed by one diesis. Here we have analogues,

1 It is still put first in the modern system under tle fancy name of Kānakangi (part of an elaborate memoria technica, see Mudaliar's Oriental Music, p. 17). 2 See the examples in Pachtikos, Aismata Hellenica, Athens, 1905, passim. 3 South Indians claim that the Dravidian system (that of the Carnatic) is older than the Hindostani. It may be remembered also that Tamil (the prevalent language of southern India) has the oldest datable literature of any Prakrit.

THE SCALE 121

therefore, for two of the Greek genera. We may even trace the third genus, the enharmonic, in Rāgs like Todi, Multāni, and others. The Greek enharmonic scale, expressed in śrutis, appears thus b Ex .= 186. 2 be

1 1 7 4 1 1 7 (= 22)

The scale of Todi is : Todi . b b b b H Ex. = -9

187. ba

7 1| 1 4 7 1 1 7 1 11

They meet, like the old and new South Indian chromatic scales, in two overlapping tetrachords : Greek enharmonic. b Ex. : 188. be

7 1 1 7

Todi .

E b G Ab A C1 The Greeks called the three notes which are separated by one diesis (sruti) the cluster (pyknon), and recognized three forms of tetrachord according as the lower note (barypyknon), middle note (mesopyknon), or upper note (oxypyknon) 2 of the cluster was made the tonic, i. e. the terminal of the tetrachord. If this ever formed a part of Indian theory, no trace of it has as yet been discovered ; but the fact is here -the Greek enharmonie with the barypyknon and the enharmonic Todi with the orypyknon. Further, Todi and its congeners are really distinct from other Rägs, because, as has been seen, there is no place for them in Bharata's jatīs, which do not provide for the first and twenty-first śrutis which Todi involves. They may therefore point to a different basic principle of scale. It is not suggested that the three genera, to borrow the term, are confined respectively to different parts of India, although the en- harmonic seems to be opposed in principle to the Carnatic system. 1 These notes are given for the sake of clearness one quarter tone higher than they stand in Ex. 187. 2 Aristoxenus did not recognize the latter two; he held that the pyknon must always be at the lower end of the tetrachord.

122 THE SCALE

The diatonic is ubiquitous (though the sharp Sixth is not found in the South), and the chromatic is quite as popular in the North under the name of Bhairau as it is in the South as Māyamālavagaula. Neither is there any suggestion that Greece borrowed from India, or vice versa; their musical systems, like their languages, were no doubt part of their common Aryan inheritance-with enough likeness and unlikeness to make the comparison convincing.

We turn now to the other class of scale, the transilient, which proceeds by 'leap' to the Fourth, with a bridge note. It might seem at first glance as if these were not very different from the chromatic scales, since in both there is as a rule a leap of a minor Third. But there is a great difference in the melodies which embody them. A 'chromatic' melody tends to centre in the cluster of semitones, and to treat the leap as an occasional excur- sion. A 'transilient' melody moves more freely, and the leap is the most important material of the song. We found a hint in the Gurkha and Garhwalī songs that these transilient scales had their home in the east of India. Although they are to be found everywhere, they seem to be especial favourites in Bengal; and the Bengali system especially insists on heptatonic (sampūrņa), hexatonic (shādava), and pentatonic (odava) as a primary division of Rāga, whereas the other systems, while recognizing these, draw no special attention to them. Of these names there is something to be said about odava. It is always understood to mean 'a set of five'; but the word is neither Sanskrit nor Prakrit. What the connexion is, if any, with Audarī (an unlocated place- name) or the Odras (who inhabited Orissa = Odra-desha) or with odrapushpa (the Chinese rose) must be left to others to determine. No Indian language owns odava, and, if the name is foreign, the scale may have been imported. That it is foreign is further sug- gested by the form shādava, 'a set of six,' formed on analogy, for which the proper Sanskrit would have been shashtaka. Indian theory, which is nothing if not complete, has names also for scales of fewer notes. Scales of one note, which seems a little Irish, are called Arcika (i. e. belonging to the Rigveda). This is curious since the Rk was by common consent chanted to three notes. Of two notes, Gāthika; Gāthas were religious non- Vedic songs. Of three notes, Sāmika, belonging to the Sāmaveda.

THE SCALE 123

(Incidentally, the Sāman chant involved from five to seven notes.) Of four notes, Svarāntara (= hiatus); this seems to be a con- fession that the tabulation had broken down. Still, the list as a whole may be read to mean that a small compass connotes antiquity, as we found it connoted also remoteness of locality. No one doubts, either, that pentatonic scales precede, what indeed may be considered 'spoiled' forms of them, hexatonic and heptatonic. They are, logically, older because they are innocent of the Semitone, which comes into the scale only when the ear can appreciate the

major Third. Fourth Major Third = Semitone). Melodies in these scales

have extraordinary strength and sweetness, but not much variety. It remains to bring these different scale formations into relation with acoustical fact, on the one hand, and with musical fact on the other. When primitive man-and he is to be heard in London streets as well as in Otahiti or in the glacial epoch-begins to articulate his upward whoop or downward wail, he uses his 'musical ear'. It is this ear which is in a low state of development when he 'loses his key' or 'sings out of tune'. What is it, then, to sing in tune ? It is to be able to hear, with a given note, certain other notes which are present in it at various pitches and intensities. 'The' note is known as the 'fundamental', and the 'other' notes as 'upper partials': the latter diminish in intensity as they rise in pitch. Intensity of sound has not yet been measured, and the amount of average diminution is not known. The following series omits octaves (as mere replicas), and hints at the average diminution by time-values :

Ex. 189 & c.

1 3 5 7 9 11 &c. The 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, 10th upper partials are omitted as duplicates. The Bb is & tone flat, the F is 4 tone sharp on notes of the same name which are derived from lower partials, and which therefore in certain connexions have precedence. Human powers of hearing vary a good deal, and still more the power of defining and naming what is heard; so that individuals and tribes may be classified according as their powers extend to the 3rd, 5th, or even 7th upper

124 THE SCALE

partial; there is no certain record of powers that have exceeded that. These upper partials are present on all sound-producers ; poorest on the tuning fork and flute, richest in the human voice. But they are present in different intensities,1 and this fact gives its 'character' to each sound-producer. But, secondly, it seems to be a law of music (not of acoustics) that no tonal fact can be realized at all without its entering at once into all the relationships of which it is capable ; and we must now consider this series in another way : 1 2 3 4 5 678 9 10 Ex. &c. 190. 10 &c. 54 Each partial forms with its neighbour in the series an interval represented by a 'super-particular'2 fraction, and these intervals are the ultimate facts of music. They immediately combine to form new intervals as quotients : thus, 2 - = §, that is, the power of hearing the Octave and Fifth carries with it the power to hear the Fourth as well. Further, 2 -$ = g; that is, the hearing of the Fourth and Fifth involves the appreciation of the major Tone. This means that in order to discriminate the major Tone it is not necessary to have an ear fine enough to hear the 8th and 9th partials, which also give it (because they are partials of the 2nd and 3rd partials), but it can be apprehended directly as the 'difference' between (strictly, quotient of) an Octave and two Fifths. The power of hearing up to the 3rd partial provides a scheme of notes which is known as 'quintal' harmony; and since this is infinite, it would be possible to plot a scale in this harmony alone of twenty-two or any other desired number of degrees in the octave. But the relationships would begin soon, after the first half-dozen or so, to be remote and practically unintelligible. For instance, the obvious relationship of C to Bb is that Bb is a minor Third (316 cents) from G, and G is a Fifth (702) from C; total 1018. It is possible in quintal harmony also to reach B5 from C,

1 The 2nd partial is prominent in the flute, the 3rd in the clarinet, the Srd and 5th in the human voice, the 7th in bells, the 11th in the trumpet. Piano- forte makers cause the hammer to strike the string at a place which eliminates the 7th, which is not wanted. 2 Of the form a+ 1 a

THE SCALE 125

but only by calculating upwards in major Tones (5x204=1020), and this process confuses the ear. It does not matter that 1020 is not the same as 1018; for the difference is only 3'6 of a semitone, and it requires a good ear to distinguish even tenths of Semitones in an interval which, like C-Bb, is derived, and not a matter of im- mediate perception like, for instance, C-G, or C-E. What matters is that the ear cannot make so elaborate a calculation as five successive major Tones-as, indeed, Aristoxenus, quoted above, suggested. The ear, therefore, takes by preference the intervals derived from the 5th partial, the major Third, which form 'tertian' harmony. As 'quintal' harmony was derived from the Octave and Fifth, so tertian harmony is derived from the Octave, Fifth, and Third; and ' septimal' harmony, if it is ever used, is derived from these three and the 7th partial. In tertian harmony the series is again infinite, as indeed any of these series must be, since no basic interval is an exact power (or root) of another basic interval. But since there are three basic intervals instead of, as before, two, it is found by experience that a larger number of derived intervals, about eight, are easily intelligible in tertian harmony. We have no experience of septimal harmony, and it is impossible to say what intervals the ear would here accept. And this is important. With the acoustical material available, many and diverse scales might be constructed, and they would all look equally well-or ill-on paper. Whether Indians have modified the ancient Hindu theory of strietly quintal and tertian intervals by the introduction (due, Mr. Clements suggests, to Mohammedan influence) of sep- timal intervals, can only be established on evidence. If any people hears septimal intervals, the Indians and Greeks, with the fine ear which practised and the fine discrimination which recorded the niceties of the genera and the gramas, would have been among the first to do it; but to establish the fact it requires, in the complete absence in their theoretical works of any hint that they did so, a broader basis of observation than is provided by the performance of a single singer. With regard to the transilient scales, I received from the melodies sung in them a strong impression that they were in just intonation -that a major and minor Tone made a major Third, that the Sixth was just and not sharp. There is no reason, however, why tertian intervals (which this implies) should not have been accepted in

126 THE SCALE

pentatonic scales later, and yet the origin of these have lain origi- nally in pure quintal harmony. An argument may be found to support this. Quintal pentatonic scales are based on a series of five Fifths- say, C-G-D-A-E. Reducing these within the limits of an Octave, and relating them to a common tonic, we get the following scheme for the five pentatonics : CENTS. RATIOS. ic Scale on 'white' notes, as from G D C A C 1200 2 C c E C b b b Bb 996 16:9 Bb Bb Bb ... ..

A 906 27:16 b Ab 792 128:81 AL ...

G 702 3:2 G G G G ..

F 498 4:3 F F F F

408 81:64 ... b b Eb 294 32:27 Eb Eb ... ... ...

D 204 9:8 D D D ... ...

C 0 1 C C C C C

The worst scales-the least euphonious, those which involve the more abstruse fractions-are those of C and E; that of D is the best. This D scale

Ex. = ٩

191. be

D E G A C D

is the type, which goes under the name of Sarang, of a favourite form of pentatonic Rag. We saw also (p. 70) that there was a decided preference in the Garhwali songs for the A scale : b Ex. 192.

A C D E G A

though not to the exclusion of the C and E scales.1

1 In the Journal of the English Folksong Society (vol. xvi), Miss Gilchrist records her belief that the typical Scotch pentatonic is the G scale. A cursory glance at the first hundred or so in Petri's collection suggests that the Irish favourites are the G and A scales. (A song may be in a pentatonic scale although more than five distinct notes are touched in it, if it has only five substantive notes and the other one or two are used as passing notes.)

THE SCALE 127

But the D and A scales (and G) are the best of the five only if the intervals are taken as strictly qnintal; if tertian intervals are substituted, i. e. if ' merging' takes place, the five scales are equally 'good'. If, therefore, these particular scales are found to be the favourites in a country, it is an argument that all the pentatonics were in that conntry taken as strictly quintal, at any rate origi- nally, though tertian intervals may have crept in later.

The śruti enters into music as one of three definite intervals. Just as there are three diatonic intervals (svaras), so there are three enharmonic intervals (śrutis). The diatonic intervals we have seen to be Major Tone, g, 4 śrutis Minor Tone, 40, 3 srutis Semitone, 1§, 2 śrutis and the enharmonic intervals are such intervals as correspond to a difference of one between the śrutis of the svaras (or are the various quotients of the fractions which answer to those svaras). The numbers 4, 3, and 2 may be handled in three ways so as to produce a difference of one ; thus : (a) 4-3 = 1 śruti g=87 = 22 cents. This is the 'indicative' śruti, the ' Comma of Didymus'. (b) 3-2 = 1 śruti 10.18 = 25 = 70 cents (strictly, 70.6). This is the ' small semitone'. (c) 3 + 2-4 = 1 sruti 10.18.8 = 25 = 90 cents. This is the ' Pythagorean Limma'. But these intervals as such remain theoretical. They are actually sung only as increments of other larger intervals.1 There is no case in any Rag where two notes are separated, for instance, by the Comma of Didymus. That interval represents the difference between the two major Sixths (A and A), or between the major and minor Tone (D and D). But both notes (A and A, &c.) do not b

appear in the same Räg; the Räg contains the one or the other. 1 'Heterotone' would be a better name for śruti than the usual translation 'microtone'.

128 THE SCALE

We may notice in passing that this principle extends to the sraras also. A Rag, Pilu for instance, has an E and an Eb with a D and a F on either side of them; but in a given passage either E or Eb will occur, but not both as a rule. And the principle, though not so strictly carried out, may be traced with tones as well as semitones. It is not at all uncommon for a Rāg, especially in southern India, to omit a note in ascent, but its next door neighbour in descent. Two notes, A and Bb, being 'in' the scale an ascending passage will employ by preference G A-C, a descending C Bb-G; though quite possibly both notes will be used occasionally. The same thing is common enough in our own Folk-song :

Abroad as I was walking.1 1 3 Ex. 4 2

8 10 11

12 13 14 15 16

Here the salient notes are clearly C, F, and Bb,2 and it is interest- ing to see how the tetrachords C-F, F-Bb are filled. In bars 1 and 13 we have the equivalent of

Ex .= 194.

though both notes (D and Eb) are present in ascent and descent in bars 2 and 3. In bar 7 occurs

Ex. 195

and in bars 9 and 11 Ex. 196.

1 From the Journal of the Folksong Society, vol. iii, p. 124, No. 40. The reader may wish to add G. But 'modes' are tetrachordal ; the tetra- chord hangs about them like the 'shame of the swaddling-clothes'; and the tetrachords are certainly not D-G, G-C.

THE SCALE 129

In these instances a non-modal writer would be more likely to have employed 7 11 Ex. Ex. 197. and 198

and he would probably have sharpened the F's. The principle is, then, broadly that between two salient notes modal melody tends to employ only one of two alternatives, and, for choice, that alternative which is nearest to the note which is being left, not to that which is being approached. It is difficult to show this convincingly with regard to the śruti; but it may be seen in the grace-notes which occur like ' enclitics' in many Indian melodies, i.e. they belong to the note which is being quitted, not to that which is being approached : Ex. 199. &c.

They are on the principle of the violinist's slide. In passing from C to G he does not use all the intermediate notes, but only the first few : Ex. 200.

Hence comes no doubt the statement that for southern India the quarter-tones (śruti) are ' confined to grace' (Day, p. 30). But that is not the usual acceptation of the word in the South. Sruti there means keynote. A singer has 'lost his śruti' when he sings out of tune; the drone strings of the rina are called the sruti, and so on. This is clearly a transference of meaning from 'a nice distinction of pitch' to 'that which determines the pitch'. But in the North śruti has retained its original meaning, nice distinetion of pitch. There, however, its nature has been sometimes misapprehended. Stress has been laid on there being twenty-two of them, and the scale has come to be regarded as an octave with twenty-two stopping places. Consequently theoretical musicians are to be found who are prepared to sing from C to C, stopping at twenty-one places on the way. We have seen that this is wrong artistically, because melodies rarely use two of these, and never three, in succession. But it is wrong scientifically also. For the śruti did not arise as a division, equal or unequal, of the semitone. It has no independent existence. It is only a difference between 1495 K

130 THE SCALE

two intervals considerably larger than itself. Thus the A which we reach from C through D, and the A reached through F or E differ by the interval Å-A ( ?? x ?= g1) the 'Comma of Didymus'.

A A Ex. 201. x x 4 x

5

So also with Small Pythagorean Semitone. Limma.

Ex. 202.

the sruti is not an independent interval, but an increment of, or a defalcation from, some larger one. We get in this a suggestion which will reconcile the North and South Indian connotations of the word. A śruti is not, as it has hitherto been understood to be, the smallest audible sound, but the accurately audible sound-that which is 'heard' in accurate relationship to some other. This position throws some doubt on Helmholtz's 1 account of the Greek quarter-tone (following Plutarch2) as a division (32 x 31) of the semitone (1§). It seems possible, at least, that as the Greek and Indian systems were alike in so many other respects, they were alike also in deriving their 'enharmonic' tones from a persistence in just intonation and a refusal to compromise, i. e. to temper. It is hard for Europeans to realize the state of things here de- scribed; but we have occasional glimpses of it. The major Sixth, Ex. 203.

Be-hold your God

for instance, tends to be sung as a larger interval (since the B is forced up by the harmony to be a major tone from A) than that in 1 Sensations of Tone, English translation, 1875, p. 407. 2 De Musica, chap. viii. He says the old players ' took the semitone as simple (A-Bb), not a compound interval (A A Bb). Later the semitone was divided.'

THE SCALE 131

Ex. 204 Nor did'st Thou suf-fer

where the interval E-F# is a minor tone. The first of these is, in fact, what we have been speaking of as the interval C-A, the second the interval C-A. The distinction between these two is also made use of in Schubert's Ganymed for a particular effect : Ganymed. SCHUBERT. Ex. 205. Hin - auf strebt's, hin-

cres

auf hin - auf strebt's, hin-auf ! es

ff

schwe - ben-die Wol - ken ab . wärts

Here the harmonies of the third and fourth bars wrench the melody K 2

132 THE SCALE

up a major tone,1 whereas the scale would demand in the third bar a minor tone; so that for two whole bars-the words ' strebt's hinauf ! hinauf'-the voice is travelling at a pitch a fraction higher than normal, and admirably illustrates the meaning of the text, while at 'es schweben' it drops back (again owing to the har- monies) to normal pitch. This example shows also the other two srutis. The Comma of Didymus and the Pythagorean Limma are correlatives; the two together make up the diatonic semitone (22+90=112). The latter occurs, thereforc, in the fifth bar of Ex. 205. The 'small semitone' appears also in the accompaniment of the next bar. The locus classicus for this interval is the Elizabethan madrigal, in which a minor Third is frequently, and with beautiful effect, substituted for a major Third, as a deliberate ' False Relation':

Phil - lis hath sworn she loves the man, WEELKES, 1598.

Ex. 206.

Phil - lis hath sworn, Phil ~ lis hath' Phil - lis hath sworn L

Phil - lis hath sworn she loves the man,

sworn, Phil - lis hath sworn, Phil - lis hath sworn she loves the man,

she loves the man, or, by the reverse process, constitutes the peculiar charm of the 'Tierce de Picardie'. There are also other 'śrutis' in European employ. (1) The difference between an Octave and three major Thirds (1200-386

1 C, the sixth of the scale, is normally a minor tone from Bb, the fifth. But the basses Eb and F in the third and fourth bars are a major tone apart. And therefore the melody which they bear (the Bb and C) must here be separated by a major tone. Similarly, in the fourth and fifth bars, where we have modu- lated to F minor, the F and the G (and therefore the C and the D) are a major tone apart.

THE SCALE 133

x 3 = 42 cents). It is present wherever, for instance, G# is taken as Ab. A fine example of this forms the climax of the introductory bars to the second Act of the Walküre. (2) The difference between four minor Thirds and an Octave (316x4-1200 =64), of which a rather wooden example is to be found leading up to an entry of the C major subject in the overture to Smetana's Bartered Bride. (3) The difference between twelve Fifths and seven Octaves (702× 12-1200×7=24). This occurs in a descending form in the six bars which follow Wotan's words 'So küsst er die Gottheit von dir' at the end of the Walküre, and, ascending, in the five bars which close the first of Vaughan Williams's Five Mystical Songs : poco rall. Ex. 207.

ppr =

And the same fact is present, of course, whenever the whole tone scale is played (204× 6-1200=24), the musical effect of which is closely comparable to that of the Pratimadhyama scales of India. Then there is that magnificent mounting bass which compasses a Fifth in seven semitones (112x7-702=82) towards the close of the Finale of Schubert's C major Symphony; and there are no doubt instances of other such intervals. The point is that we use enharmonic intervals for precisely the same reason as the Indians- for their jubilant or pathetic effect; only we do it in a different way. Equal temperament has nothing to do with this matter-we hear the effect in the orchestra and imagine it on the piano ; though it has a great deal to do with the vocalization of a melody.

CHAPTER V

MODE

THE terms 'scale' and 'mode' are frequently used as synony- mous, because it is often unimportant to insist on the distinction between them. But in their essence they name two primary musical instincts. Scale is the expression of the melodic impulse, mode is ultimately the outcome of the rhythmic impulse. They are relative, not absolute terms; and in two ways. First, any given series of notes may be in a scale, or it may be in a mode, according to the moments of it which we are taking to be impor- tant. And, secondly, it can seldom be said that at any given point in a melody a change of mode or scale has taken place; the change requires to be 'established', and that is a matter of degree. There is a sense also in which scale 'is' established mode. We propose shortly to discuss these points. A change of scale is a change in a prescribed order of notes brought about by the melodic impulse. It is a more or less violent change in pitch of some one note which results in musical ' effect', exhilarating, pathetic, &c. In the following Song of Somerset, 'Sovay, Sovay,' the pathetic flattening at (a) is a purely melodic Sovay, Sovay. Ex .: 208.

(a)

effect. It causes the melody to droop a little at that point, and so to give value to the F# when it is restored later on. The ear has been chcated for the moment of the major scale it expected, and has been presented with another, the major scale with the flat seventh. It is owing to this species of deception which they involve that such devices are known as Musica ficta, feigned music. They come in the first place as vocal accommodations, but they stay as musical effects. They do not establish, they only suggest a new scale. If in this song the Ft's had been the rule and the

MODE 135

F#'s the exception, we should have said the melody was in another scale (of G) or in a mode (of C). For our present purpose, since we are discussing G not C, it is a change of scale. A change of mode is a change in the relative importance not of one note, but of all, brought about by a shift of the rhythmic centre of gravity. The following Folk-song,1 'A sailor's life,' shows in its three versions a change both of scale and of mode. We may take the germ of the song to be contained in the pentatonic form marked I, which is placed for comparison between two derivatives, II and III. A sailor's life.

Ex. 209. I.

I is a pentatonic ' Dor-aeolian' on D. II and III are only slightly veiled pentatonics, but two important changes have taken place. In II the notes of the scale have not been altered, but, by the rhythmical stress which is thrown upon it, G has become the tonic, and the mode is now a Mixolydian on G. In III, though the rhythmic points are not quite the same as in I yet they are not vitally different; but the addition of an F# implies a change of scale, which is now a Mixolydian on D.2 It is the custom to consider the C-c scale to be the primary 1 From the Journal of the Folksong Society. 2 A really beautiful instance of the musical process here involved is a shifting 'Ground' of Purcell's quoted on p. 176 of E. Walker's History of Music in England, 1907.

136 MODE

series of notes from which others (D-d, E-e, &c.) are derived, and of which they are modes. But it would be logically as defensible, and historically more correct to consider C-c as a mode of the D-d scale. The fact is that a mode when it is thoroughly established anywhere becomes the scale of that country, or countryside; thus, some of England sings by preference in the Mixolydian, some of it in the Dorian, and so on, Ireland in the Mixolydian and Aeolian. There can be little doubt that the difference between the Sa-grāma and the Ma-grama, though it figures as a difference of scale, Sa. CDEFGA B CJ or CDEFGÅBC Ma. C DEFG ABCS CDEF#GA BC) was originally a difference of mode Sa. CDEFGÅBC

Ma. FGABCĎEF Thus when mode is thoroughly established it comes to be regarded as scale. This distinction between mode and scale is commonly thought to apply only to an antiquated style of music. But the thing is per- fectly well known to us in modern music whenever modulation1 takes place, as a familiar melody from Brahms's First Symphony shows : Andante sostenuto. (a) Ex. = 210.

(b)

The modulation comes at (a) in the form of a pathetie flattening of the obvious note, and at (6) as a heightening of the meaning by a shift of the melodic centre of gravity. Every musician feels the effect at (a) to be quite different from that at (b); the first is a difference of scale, the second of mode, and both involve a tem- porary change of key; the first is like a mechanical, the second like a chemical change. Without some such connecting link as this with our own music we are apt to look on unusual scales and modes, especially when they display such intricacy as the Indian scale (grāma) and mode (mūrchaņa) and individualized mode (rāga), 1 i.e. modification, taking another ' mode', or way of doing things.

MODE 137

as merely weird and fanciful. They are, however, formulas which are doing all they can to express the facts of unharmonized melody, if we will let them ; and we should approach them in that spirit if we were not hindered by our harmonic preconceptions. For we have to forget a good deal before we hear the beauty in such as this : Allegro. d=92. Ex. 211. 1 A-la-ka-la - lla lā-da-ga-ga-ni A - la - ka-la - Ila la-da-ga-ga-ni

A - la-ka-la - lla la - da-ga-ga-ni Yā rā - mu-ni rī.

My heart rejoiced, seeing the locks on the forehead of Rama wave, when he with ease and grace put down the pride of the giant, Mārīcha, and broke the bow of Siva at the beck of the sage, Viśvamitra. If we could treat it as in D minor, with a mere D drone without harmonies, we should be happier; the last bar would then have finality. But the drone is G, and for us this leaves the tune in the air. It takes a long time before we become accustomed to this queer way of looking at things, and can take it as it presents itself. We keep wishing to accommodate the tune by appropriate har- monies at this or that point, and do not easily realize that these introduce subsidiary modes (which we can, however, in virtue of those harmonies, subsume under the main one), but that a change of drone (without harmonies), by introducing a subsidiary mode, merely destroys the principal mode. As a preliminary to the consideration of Indian modes we may review our own (omitting the F-f and B-b modes as obsolete) :

Ex. 212.

They all consist of similar tetrachords; those on C, D, and E being arranged as disjunct to one another, those on G and A as conjunct.1 1 This is not a mere piece of theory. It will be found that melodies in the G and A modes (the Mixolydian and Aeolian) throw much emphasis on the seventh note, the terminal of the second tetrachord, which those in the other modes do not, at any rate to the same extent.

138 MODE

The mode of D was, we said, the historically prior of all these modes. Its tetrachords are disjunct and similar. We may keep them disjunct, but make them dissimilar; in which case we get, for instance, the A mode transposed down to D :

Ex. 213.

Also in these two forms of the D scale we may sharpen the leading note, in which case we get respectively the ' ascending' minor :

Ex. 214.

and the 'harmonic' minor :

Ex. 215.

By these three methods, (1) similar tetrachords, (2) dissimilar tetra- chords, and (3) scalar alteration, we can account for all the modes we know. There are of course other ways of accounting for them, but this is the plan on which the Indians have worked; only they have carried it further and included every practicable combination of both tetrachords. With them modes are 'pure' (suddha), or 'mixed' (mishra, san- kīrņa), or 'altered' (chāyālaga, sālanka). They are 'pure' when the two tetrachords of which they are composed are similar. In theory every note of a Rāg should be consonant (samvadi) to some other, and the effect of this would be to make the tetrachords similar, as we have seen that they are in the European modes. But they are similar in others also, such as Bhairau. Ex. 216.

where every note is consonant to some other, and C doubly con- sonant; and Todi. H Ex. = 217.

b in which not C, but Ab is doubly consonant. Modes are 'mixed' when the tetrachords are dissimilar, as in

MODE 139

Bilāskhānī Todī. Ex. = 218.

in which C and Ab are doubly consonant, but B has no consonant. The Greeks also knew these modes, called them by the same name, tonoi miktoi, and defined them in the same way. ' Altered' modes. The words chāyālaga and sālanka mean different things. Chāyālaga, lit. ' shadowy', is used in the Panjab, and prob- ably elsewhere, to mean a mode in which the B has been flattened (or the Bb sharpened). Salanka is not a Sanskrit word at all. It is a piece of memoria technica.1 The seventy-two melakartas are divided into thirty-six with Fh, Śuddhamadhyama, and thirty-six with F#, Pratimadhyama ; and Salanka is the first melakarta of the Pratimadhyamas. It therefore came to be used as a general term for any Rag that had the F sharpened. At present Chāyālaga seems to be used in Hindostan for both the adventitious Bb and F#, and Sālanka similarly in the Carnatic. Simple instances would be :

Jhinjoti. Ex. = 219.

Behāg. Ex. 220.

in these the Bb and F# are alternative, not additional. The principle is extended to other notes, Eb, for instance, in Desh. Ex .= 221.

This does not account, however, for all the varieties, and the subject needs more investigation; still it carries us some way. All three kinds ('pure', 'mixed', and 'altered') are known to Bharata, though he names them differently. The 'mixture' of dissimilar tetrachords he calls the 'twilight of the Rāg' (jāti- sādhāraņa). For the 'altered' Rāg he gives no name, but he

1 The high-sounding names of the seventy-two South Indian melakartas are arranged on a plan so that those who know the key of it can tell at once from the name what the constitution of the particular melakarta is.

140 MODE

explains1 that the Ma-grama can be formed directly, as we should say ' modally', from the Sa-grāma CDE|FGÅBC FGABCĎEF and also by reckoning (samkhyena), as we should say ' by scale', CDEF GÅBC CDEFGABC He speaks also of the lower tetrachord (mandragati, lit. low-going) and upper tetrachord (täragati, high-going), but he does not explain, apparently, how the ' twilight' jatis were put together. He tells us, for instance, that the compound (vikrta) jātī, sadjakaišikī, is made up of Şadjī. Ex. 222.

and Gāndhārī. Ex. 228.

but he does not explain which elements of the simple jātis were taken to form the compound. A knowledge of this would con- tribute a good deal to the history of Rāga. Students of ancient Greek music agree in this, that there came a time when the Harmonia was replaced by the Tonos. The change may have taken centuries; it was placed on record by Ptolemy (A.D. 150). The Harmonia2 (lit. joint, union, apposition), which was a section of the gamut consisting of two conjunct tetrachords, was not associated with any definite pitch, but adaptable according to the singer's needs. The Tonos (lit. tension, pitch) was likewise a section of the gamut, but consisted of two tetrachords plus the disjunctive tone (which might be between them or beyond them) and formed a complete octave, each Tonos being calculated from the same pitch. There seems to be no record in the ancient writers of the Tonoi having been sung upon a drone-note; Gevaert makes no

1 Nātyašāstra, adh. 28, śl. 35. 2 Monro explains this as 'adjustment' in the sense of 'tuning'. It seems not impossible that it names the 'joining' of two tetrachords to form a hepta- chord.

MODE 141

mention of it, and to ison, the modern word for drone, is not in Liddell & Scott. But Pachtikos1 speaks of the drone as being 'an indisputable relic of the original musical system'. And though the silence of so observant a people as the Greeks is diffi- cult to get over, it is just possible that they took so obvious a thing for granted.2 In the Harmonia the notes were related according to their 'functions' (kata dunamin); the extremes of the tetrachord were 'fixed ' (hestekotes), the intermediate notes were 'movable' (kineisthai pephūkotes, or kīnoumenoi) and were distributed within a certain prescribed 'locus of variation' (topos tēs kinēseos). The 'functions' of the intermediate notes meant therefore, apparently, their relations to the extreme notes (of the tetrachord). In the Tonos, on the other hand, we see a segment of a stereotyped scale (of two octaves) in which the 'functions' of notes within the tetrachord are, though they still exist, no longer of importance, but the individual notes of the scale are related according to their 'position' (kata thesin) with regard to some one of the notes of this scale taken as tonic and, in India certainly-in Greece perhaps- supplied with a drone. Unfortunately it is not possible at present to give such a detailed account of the Indian Mūrchana (the equivalent of Harmonia); more will perhaps be possible when Bharata's Nātyaśāstra has been adequately translated. He speaks of the Predominant (amsa) as the foundation and source of musical charm (rāga), as determining the tetrachord (anga) above (tāra) and below (mandra), as distinctly perceptible in a combination of different notes, as a prominent (balin) note provided with consonances (samvādi) and assonances (anuvādī), and as giving birth to the initial (graha) and final (nyasa) and to three other notes of which the meaning is not given 3 (vinyāsa, apanyāsa, and samnyāsa), but which help in some way to constitute the tetrachord. The initial and final are definitely said to begin and end the tetrachord, and the initial is always a Pre- dominant. Finally, the Predominant may, according to the par- ticular mode, be any one of five notes; and this seems to fix the meaning of Predominant definitely as 'the note of conjunction of 1 Aismata Hellēnica, Athens, 1905, Introd., lviii. To ison touto, hoper anantir- rētōs einai bebaion leipsanon prohyparchousēs harmonikēs mousikēs, ēcheitai, &c. 2 There is no mention of the drone in the Sanskrit theorists either. s But at least it is clear that they named relationships to the terminal (nyāsa), and are therefore analogues to the Greek kinoumenoi.

142 MODE

two tetrachords': for if modern Indian ragas are analysed they will be found, if 'pure' or 'mixed', to contain from one to five possible points of conjunction ; if ' altered', more. So that the amśa 1 seems to take exactly the place of the mese in Greek music, and has the same sort of satellites round it. Mad- hyama, 'middle,' accurately translates mese, and it is on the face of it likely that they named originally the same musical fact. We must digress for a moment to discuss madhyama. It is noticeable that only two notes of the scale have names with an assignable meaning-madhyama, middle, and pañcama, fifth. Śadja (born of six') might make a similar claim; but the ex- planations of it have hitherto been fanciful.2 Madhyama and pañcama are next door neighbours, and of these madhyama appears to be the older name, i.e. to be applicable to an earlier state of the scale; for (1) they can hardly be contemporaries, otherwise they would have been called caturtha (fourth) and pañcama, and (2) since no other note is named by an ordinal number this particular note pañcama appears to be so named for distinction, possibly from the madhyama (with which it constantly disputed the hegemony). From the earliest times the scale is quoted as consisting of seven notes, the eighth being a repetition; and the madhyama divides these seven, in the same way as the mese, into two tetrachords. It may be added that as the other four notes of the scale (Rsabha, Gāndhāra, Dhaivata, and Nishāda) are all apparently place names, they may have been adopted into the scale as the local way of passing from one end of the tetrachord to the other, and hence are of the same nature as the Greek kinoumenoi; and this survives also in the modern scale, for it is these notes, and no others, which are liable to be made flat (komal) and very flat (atikomal). But by Bharata's time all the eight notes are clearly defined; they are, as we should write them, (C) D E F G A B C, becanse the old theory names the upper extremity of the svara. The madhyama is the note G in a scale C-C, not, as before, in a heptachord D-C; and he has a great deal to say about it. It is the ' eldest' (pravara), the ' imperishable' (anasin), the 'note fixed by the singers of the Samaveda in the Gandharvakalpa' (musical treatise), the ' note 1 The word means a 'part' of a whole. Since it appears in manuscripts indifferently with anga ('part'), which is a name for the tetrachord, amsa may originally have meant tetrachord (i.e. 'part' of the whole murchana), and later the note on which the tetrachord started. 2 See Chapter X.

MODE 143

which would still subsist though all the other notes of the mode should disappear'. This last delightful hyperbole could not have been applied to the amsa, which, though it regulated the notes in its tetrachords, was itself liable to be shifted, and the tetrachords with it. In modern music Pa is the 'imperishable' note, i. e. it is never sharpened or flattened as are the other notes, with the exception of Sa. So that we see here perhaps the transition from the hepta- chord consisting of two conjunct tetrachords meeting at the ma- dhyama, to an octachord based on the Fifth-relationship of Sa and Pa (the new madhyama) with the movable amsa doing the work of the old fixed madhyama. In other words we have the transition from the Harmonia to the Tonos. An instance will make this clearer :

Ex. 224 Ma.

is a murchana with two similar tetrachords and with its madhyama at A. A, then, is the note of greatest emphasis. Songs sung in this mode came to have a certain character whatever it might be; let us say, sombre. They would then lie on the whole in the upper part of the compass of the mode-not necessarily in the upper register of the voice, for the mode might be taken at any pitch- and the Predominant note (early madhyama, later amsa) would con- sequently lie low in the song. In order that the low position of the A, on which the character of the song depended, should be effectively felt, a note about the position of F, let us say, assumed the character of fundamental note-the mūrchana had of course, as such, no fundamental-and if instrunients were used, this funda- mental was furnished with a drone. Thus the mūrchana (Harmonia) passes into the Rāg (Tonos) :

Ex. 225. Dr Am.

and the madhyama (A) of the murchana, the meeting point of two similar tetrachords, becomes the amsa of the Rag, the central note of the tessitura, while a new note, C, is now the ' imperishable', &c., madhyama of the Rag. But in the new Rag there was no need to

144 MODE

have the tessitura always in one place, since the character of songs that might be sung in it varied; and it might be moved, without doing much violence to the Rag, to any note except Bb and E (of this particular Rag), because at neither of these points could the amsa be the meeting point of two tetrachords. If it was moved to cither of these points, Bb for instance, there was a tendency to flatten the E and so to develop a different Rāg. Let us try to realize this in a melody :

Shardula-vikridita.1 Ex .= 226.

If we put away all thoughts of a tonic as we understand it and simply pick out the most prominent notes of this tune, we should probably say that in the first eight bars they were :

Ex. ? 227.

in the next six : Ex. 228.

and in the last six : Ex. = 229.

i. e. G and A twice, and D, E, F, and high and low C once each. The scale therefore might be written :

Ex. 230.

It is difficult for us not to attach more importance to the low C than is here shown; both because the tune appears to end there, and

1 Shardula-vikridita is the name of a Sanskrit metre ; and the rhythmical aspect of this melody is discussed in Chapter VIII.

MODE 145

because, if we emphasize that note, the tune is in our major mode, i. e. in one of the only two that we know. But the tune is, like most Folk-song, circular; after the end it goes back to the begin- ning and finishes there-in this case probably with the phrase,

Ex. 231.

though the D is not thereby made the tonic either; in fact, there is no tonic exactly in our sense. Also, we do not easily put our- selves into the frame of mind of a person who knows not two modes, but from 62 to 162, and are not so easily content to leave off up in the air, so to say. But though there is no tonic as we understand it, there is a Pre- dominant (G at the beginning, A in the middle, and either G or A at the end of the song). So that the song is conceived as in one of two modes (mūrchaņa).

I Ex. 232. Ma. or II Ex. 23 Ma.

Now Indian songs, and probably other non-harmonic songs, are seldom sung twice in the same way, however small the variation each time. Some singers would tend to give prominence to the G of I, some to the A of II. There would also be many songs similar to this one which might be considered to be in mode I or mode II according to the particular singer. These would form a class; and the class would depend largely on the character of the words-sad songs in one class, merry in another, and so on. The words of this particular song are of a reflective nature. And reflection is associated with a low 'lie' of the voice. So that songs in these modes might well keep the G, or the A, for their Pre- dominant if jubilant, but if reflective might drag it down to the consonant (samvādi) note D, or E. Next, if we suppose that with the progress of music this general tendency to have a high Predominant for some songs and a low 1495 L

146 MODE

one for others becomes more defined and scientific, the need would arise to determine precisely how high or how low; and a note would be taken and enforced from which to measure the height of the Predominant. This would be done solely for the musical reason of giving more decided character to the tune, of making explicit what was before implicit. If then a low 'lie', such as D or E, was required by the character of the song, and C was chosen as the measuring note or drone, its 'mode' would now become a Rag (particularized mode) of the form

Ex. 234.

or Ex. 235. Am.

The Rag of this particular song is stated to be Mand, a Rag used in the late evening (a possible time for reflection), and it will be seen on turning to the list on p. 151, No. 12, that the Predominant of Mand is given in one part of India as D and in another as E.

A musical purpose of importance is served by this Predominant and its consonant. One of the most effective resources of melody is appoggiatura, i. e. the delaying of a note, the raising of pleasing expectations. This melody from Tristan, for instance,

Ex.a 236.

owes almost its whole force to the enhancement by appoggiatura of some simple scheme such as :

Ex. 237.

The essential condition of appoggiatura is that the delaying note should be felt to be only transitory and the delayed note to be relatively final or permanent. This is effected in our music by the harmony, expressed or implied, which moves on from sub-

MODE 147

stantive to passing chord and forces the delaying note to yield. Thus (substantive chords (a) and passing chords (6)) :

a b a b a b a EX 238

&c.

And the same is true when the harmonies are only implied, as in the first four bars of this passage from the Ninth Symphony :

a

EX. 239

h b a

h a

Here the harmonies, implied in the first five bars and expressed in the last five, are :

Ex. 240

and at every place marked b the melody gets a purchase on one of the constituent notes of these. But when there are no chords at all in question the substantive nature of the delayed note has to be established in some other way. In Indian, as no doubt in ancient Greek and probably (see Chapter VI) in the ecclesiastical melodies, this is done by the Predominant (amsa, mesē, reciting note); notes receive the force of appoggiaturas as they delay this. Thus, in the melody with which we are dealing, D being Predominant and G its consonant (both estab- lished by long association) and C the drone (generally expressed), we have appoggiaturas (b) L 2

148 MODE

Ex. 241.

&c.

leading to a substantive note (a) which is either the amsa (D), or its consonant (G), or the drone (C). This is a particularly easy Rāg for us, because C, G, and D are notes we should have no difficulty in feeling to be important; but when, in other Rāgs, D and A, or Eb and Ab, are amśa and samvādī it is not so easy to feel the musical impulse, though it is not hard to understand the principle. As we have been tracing points in common between Indian and Greek music, we may notice two more. One, that the salient distinction between the two gramas is found in the four notes, F G A B of the Sa-grama and F G A Bh of the Ma-grama; and this was precisely the distinction between the Greek 'lesser complete' and ' greater complete' systems. Only the problem presented itself differently. In Greece the scales were :

Ex. 242.

and

Ex. 243

and in India

Ex. 244 and

Ex. 245

The other point of resemblance lies in an apparent recognition of absolute pitch. The lowest note of the Greek systems (the proslambanomenon) was of the pitch,

Ex. C 246. and the lowest note of the vina, the oldest instrument of India, is that same A. It is difficult to say how far Indians were ever, or are

MODE 149

now, conscious of absolute pitch. There is an interesting com- parison of the notes of the scale to the cries of animals. Sa is the note of the peacock. Ri, of the chataka, the bird of the rainy season. Ga, of the goat. Ma, of the crane. Pa, of the kol, generally translated cuckoo, but bearing no resemblance in its vocal achievement to our bird; it hammers out a single note when making love in the spring, and its mate joins in, invariably at the distance of a tone, and perhaps a rival lover at the distance of a semitone. Dha, of the frog. Ni, of the elephant. This has been quoted as showing that the scale was conceived as a matter of absolute pitch; and there is some evidence that the cries of animals always keep the same pitch. It may be so: it would require special knowledge to decide this point. On the other hand, the musicians of to-day have no name for and no means of deter- mining absolute pitch; and they are not usually backward in coining names for, or in devising simple methods of putting into operation, any ideas they may possess. The theory of grāma has remained barren, just because it was a mere scientific tabulation and did not sufficiently take account of the whole musical fact. It is true that the system of the Carnatic is arranged in accordance with it, and that the musicians of Hin- dostan hold it as a pious belief. But the musical science of South India is sadly over elaborated; and that of the North has followed quite another classification (see Chapter VI). The essence of the modern music lies in its numerous and intricate Rāgs, which, being modes calculated from one tonic and having the compass of an octave, correspond in so far to the Tonoi; but which again are very unlike them on account of their being sections not of one scale common to all, but of a variety of scales which practically refuse to be co- ordinated in Northern India, though not so much so in the South. Indian music has in fact retained in full force what, after the introduction of the Tonoi, Greek musicians only faintly felt, that distinctive ethos of which Plato and Aristotle spoke so enthusi- astically.1 Broadly speaking this transition from the heptachord (mūrchana, 1 This may explain why, even to a foreigner, the Rägs in the North seem to have more individuality, and why the tone of voice in which natives of Hin- dostan speak of Carnatic music sounds a little apathetic, whereas Southerners, though for the sake of association they like their own Rāgams best, always seem interested in a Hindostani singer.

150 MODE

harmonia) to the octachord (rāg, tonos) is the passage from the domination of the Fourth to that of the Fifth, from vocal to instrumental music. The voice discovers the consonance of the Fourth before that of the Fifth. Its upper notes are the more powerful, and the overtones accordingly more audible. Conse- quently it is in singing the upper notes that the desire to reach a consonant note chiefly makes itself felt. A bass voice, for instance, is singing The E above it sounds clearly in his ear: but it is beyond his compass; he therefore takes the lower E as the most obvious consonance. With instruments, how- ever, the case is reversed. It is the lower notes that are the most powerful and yield the clearest overtones; and with these the Fifth comes to be appreciated more than the Fourth. In this respect, besides that mentioned above, the music of the Carnatic shows signs of greater age-of having begun earlier that is, and lived longer, and reached a further, not necessarily a higher, point of development. The amśa is there less a vital element of Rāgam; musicians often cannot tell you which note is amsa, and the songs make little account of it. This shows that the consonance of the Fourth, which the principle of amsa emphasizes, is less keenly felt there. And again the songs tend to close on the tonic or the Fifth, whereas in the North there is no such preference; they may end anywhere, but do, for choice, on the first note or with the first phrase of the song, on whatever note it may bring them to rest. Here, for instance, is a typical Carnatic phrase (cp. Ex. 379) :

Ex. 247.

with the tune ranging down and up and down again over a Fifth and closing with some pomp on the drone note; as against this Hindostani phrase (cp. Ex. 380) :

Ex. 248. &c.

which closes, it is true, on the same drone, but seems to pretend that it has reached it by an accident, and strongly emphasizes the Fourth (C) of the mode which is in this Rag (Malkos) the Pre- dominant.

HINDOSTANI RĀGS

Gwalior Poona Bhupkalian Ny 5th watch. quiel, goy Bhûp Gujar&h Calcutta W Gwalior Poona o Bheirav Gujarāt Ny. 1watch. tender Calcurta Bhairovi morning, sad [Shud] 32

Bibhas dawn, adorahion Bibhasa [Shud W Vibhäsh. morning, gay (anada Shud] midnsght, colm, mysterious Darbarı Kinadb 33 Kānara mghr, wondering

[Shud] Deshkar Shud] 2Mwatch adoration, [Shud] 34 6 Blaskhani Tod Bılāsakhānī Todı [Shud]

Ny 2 watah calm, mysherioue Meghe W W Jog 35 1"walch. adorahon aya ogi (Jrlha bhairavi

y noon,calm [Chayo) 55rang Sura sarangs Shud] Ramka [Shud 5 36 . dawn, sdoralion [Chaya] Ramashri (Gunkam) Ramkeli, morning, tender W pl Brindavani S Brindabani saranga Bhairav (Shud) Shud

37 dawn, quieł, fear, herr Bhairava (Jilha Kalangda) morn, reverent, (festive)

Madhumads Sarang Ny noon, calm Badahansa Saranga W Kalingda Kalangada 8"warch.love,loughfer Kglangde Jilha SankJ Kölangra, morn, chemrful

Shuddha-bilāva Ar 2ndwatch. love, laughter Desh W 39 Gaur ,[Shud] 4"watch, love, laughher Goudi Gauri. sunset, happy

o Pancham 8watch. love, calm [Sank] Panchoma [Shud W Tod 2º watch. adorahon [Shud] Todi hu

40 -WA (with Bb.Gure Tor

o Shankarabharana (Narayani) Ny. dawn, quict Shankarābharano W twatch love, calm [Shud Mulran Shud 9 6 o Multani Multan, afternoon, weary 41

„ Alahiysbilāval Aliabilava Sank Alahıya morning, gay Lala 8twatch. tender Shud Lala [Sank] alit. morn, soothing 10 42

tham6 Anyhme quiet, love Khamācha [Sank] Khambāj evening, goy Sohon 8" watch. love Shud ₩ Sohen =

Mãnd Nu 6watch. lova Sank Shud Shud

12 Para 8"watch quiet, love [Shud] Paraja Paraj night, wistful 446

ilang Tilak.8"watch, quiet Mallär gay, evening Purvi Chayaj Sankl Gr. wvening, quiet, mysherg. Puravi. sunset, soothing 3 13 45

r night,anytime, quief, love [Shud] Jhijhit night, gay Basanh 8watch. laughler [Shud] asant Sank vakrj

14 466

, Desh (Soral) Wy Desh.3" walch calm,mystery Sorala w Desh mght, gay ShrT 4 hwatch love, quiel Shud Shr [Shud Shri. sunset, mysterious 47 E6 Soral 3"wałch calmhye) Sank Sura night, gay w Pūriadhanāshrī [Shud] Puria (Renaki) Sank] W 48

Gārā (Panjab) Chāya] Sank Marava (Dipak) 4'watch. love, quiel Dipaka 49

Sindore Pūriakaliān evening, love, caim Pūrıyakalyāna (Varāh) 17

, Ānanda-bharavi ony hme, love Hindol B"walch. love,calm 18 Hindola 51 6

Adana Jy 7"watch. calm, myshery Sınd Kānadā (Jlhakāfi) Maleshr [Chaya] Mālavashrī 19 6 52 6

o Myāchā Malhāra Ny 3~watch Gr. colm,fear, love Miaki (Tansen's Malhar) Joyjayanhi (Shuddha) Kaliān 5 watch merriment Iman. evening, gay 53

o Bahar 8"watch. love, laughter a yo [5ank] Bahāra (Bageshrikānads) Bahar night, feshve Yaman Kalıan 5"watch. merriment [Shud] Yamana Kalyāna man Kalian. evening, festi ve 21 54 6

Shahana Ny 7"watch quret, mystery Sahāna Kānadā (Jılhakāfi) Sahana. nght, festive g Kamod Kaliān Ny Gr ChayaJ Kamode (KambodIank vakr 22 [Chāyā] [Sank vakr] Gaudsarang [Cháyā] Goudh Saranga [Sank] any hme, lave Kafı. morning, mpassioned 23 56 6

Bāgeshrī [Sank] Bagishwari. night, sad Sham Kahan [Sank vakr.] 8" watch love 24 65 57 6

Bhimpalas 4'h warch love, quier Ny [Shud] 8himpalas Chhayanāta 6"watch merry, alert 58

Malkos p Malkauns tor8"watch low, laughe Malkos (Malava) [Sank vakr) Hamır Kalıan Hambır 59 6 Ny- Gr.

Dhanashri Ny 4"watch love, qulShud] Dhanashri Beha 5"watch, love, fear Ny Or Bhyaga [Sank vakn) Bibag night, wistful

276

Ásavari Brdwatch tender [Chayā] Āsavarī (Jilhabhairay,Sank) Shankara [Chayā] [Sank]

28 61

y Prlu watch tender [Shud] [Sank] Gandhara [Sank] W Yamanbilaval 29 6 62

Bhairobahar [Sank] Kedārā Kaliān Kedārā Kedara evening, gay 306 63 To watch merry, alert Saokl Shud] Sındhubharavi 2 wałch. tender Sindhu night, sad 31 Gy Sank] To face p. 151. See alno App II.

CHAPTER VI

RĀGA

I'll take my pipe and try The Phrygian melody ; Which he that hears Lets through his ears A madness to distemper all the brain ; Then I another pipe will take And Doric music make To civilize with graver notes our wits again. RANDOLPH.

THE Rags of Hindostan vary1 so much with the locality (those of the Carnatic less so) that there seemed to be no better way of showing them than to place in parallel columns the Rāg as given by different authorities (see the Table of Rags, opposite). In the first column appear sixty-three Rags as given me by Ashreka Ganga Ram, whose teacher was Balwant Rao of Gwalior, a state which has a high reputation for music. Ashreka seemed to be particularly sure of his knowledge; and from no one else was I fortunate enough to get any certain information about the Rags which employ quarter-tones (see Nos. 2, 26, 33, 35, 36, 40, 41, 49 in App. II). The second column is taken from the Bālsangit-bodh (Juvenile Singing Tutor) of T. B. Sahasrabuddhe, of the Poona Gayan Samaj (singing school). The third column is extracted from a list of eighty-three Rags in B. A. Pingle's Indian Music (Bombay, 1898);

1 All the same, a Räg is one thing, not several. It is, as will be seen, so sharply characterized that although in this or that respect one Rāg trenches on the domain of another, yet it never does so in all respects, and therefore a change of one of its constituent notes does not obscure its individuality; just as a man through all sorts of not easily definable varieties of vocabulary or pronunciation, or even grammar, may yet be speaking pure English. This is what an Indian believes, although he will tell you in the same breath that the Rāgs are to be found in their purity only in the school of music to which he belongs. The true Rag, of which all those with which the traveller meets are manifestations, is stored up in the heavens-or in the bosom of the most educated musician, whoever he may be.

152 RĀGA

the mordents show where he places the mūrchhanas (grace notes), and the mūrchhana comes as a rule on the amsu; as these murchhanas are generally a Fourth or a Fifth apart the list confirms the view that the amsa was placed at the limits of the tetrachords. The list in the fourth column was given me, in response to a request for the thirty commonest and most popular Rāgs, by Upendrakisor Ray of Calcutta; and of these he named Nos. 2, 10, 11, 14, 32, and 60 as quite the commonest of all. 'This list', he writes, 'was obtained by analysing a collection of more than one thousand songs. But its value is somewhat im- paired by the fact that most of these songs were popular, not classical. Writers of popular songs are not always good musicians, so their opinion as to the rgas has to be accepted with some reserve; the "popular" Behag, for instance, is C D E F G A Bb C, popular Lalit is C Db E F G Ab B C, popular Multan is C D Eb Et F G Ab An Bb Bt C' (as compared with Nos. 60, 42, and 41). With regard to the descriptive epithets, which are interesting to compare, and which on the whole agree with those of the second column, he says-'I give them with a good deal of diffidence; in fact I am not very sure about the majority of them. The quality of restraint is a predominating feature of Indian music, and this precludes any free exhibition of the emotions. Our gaiety and sadness often merge into each other: our most impassioned passages fail to stir anybody up. There is any amount of enjoyment of the deepest kind, but it is undemonstrative and reposeful; it leads not to action but to abstraction.' In these lists the notes shown by a crotchet head are those which are comparatively lightly touched; which are (1) used in ascent only or descent only, as the Bh and Bb in No. 11, or (2) are more or less optional, as the F and F# in No. 63. In this Rāg the usage is E F E and G F# G, never, as a rule, E F# E or G F G ; while in the passage from E to G, or the reverse, either an F or an F# may be used, but F# more commonly is used. This is very much the same as the mediaeval Musica ficta. And (3) some Rāgs are on their way from being transilient to being complete; though all the notes are potentially there, some of them are as a rule jumped. This is the case in No. 60, where the D and the A are occasionally heard, but never dwelt upon. It did not seem worth while to go into the details of each Räg in this matter, even if sufficient and

RĀGA 153

accurate knowledge had been forthcoming; but these three principles throw a good deal of light on the conception of Rag. The b or # over a note means the lowering or raising by some kind of śruti, see p. 117. The mark [=] under a note shows the Predominant (amsa). Graha [Gr] and Nyāsa [Ny] are respectively the notes on which a melody is supposed to begin or end; this rule seems not always to be obeyed.1 The final note has nothing like the importance it has in harmonized music. Śuddha [Shud] means 'pure'; Chāyālaga [Chāyā] means ' tran- sitional' (from Chāyā shadow); Sankirņa [Sank] means 'mixed'; and vakra [vakr] is literally ' crooked' and means that the notes are taken not in direct order from Sa to Sa, but that the Rag has certain melodic figures as characteristics. The twenty-four hours are divided into eight watches, beginning at 6 a.m. The Hindus attach much importance to, and are wonderfully unanimous as to, the ascription of a Rāg to a particular hour of the day or season of the year,2 although 'advanced' musicians may be found among them who say it has no meaning. A musical distinction, however, may be extracted from the Rāgs themselves, independently of the melodies sung in them or of the words to which these are set. Taking column 4, an analysis shows that if we may divide the Rags into 'sad' and 'merry', the 'sad' have an average of three flats to an average of two flats in those which are 'merry'. Again, if we divide them into morning and evening Rāgs, the morning have an amsu ranging about G, the evening about E. And the same thing, though in a less marked degree, may be deduced independently from the second column.

1 And this makes it probable that it is not the true explanation. There is another, quite different. The Graha is the note which an individual singer chooses for his Sa. Thus if a bass voice chooses C, a tenor would take F, and a soprano Bb. The Graha is therefore the 'clef'. And this seems to be in com- plete agreement with the statement in Bharata that the Graha is identical with the amsa. It seems probable that graha originally meant the upper and nyāsa the lower extremity of the tetrachord (anga), and that these meanings have been forgotten. 2 The first thing, sometimes the only thing, that an Indian who is not very familiar with the science of music can tell you about a particular Rāg which is being performed is that it is a morning, or that it is an evening Rag-though this perhaps does not prove more than that the Rags are as a matter of fact confined in their performance to the appropriate time of day.

154 RĀGA

So that there is a real musical basis for this ascription of time of day and of ethos. The ascription of time of year is possibly more fanciful. But the truer explanation of this deep-seated feeling is more likely to lie in the history of Rāga, as far as we may hope to know it. What is antecedently probable, and, indeed, is evident from the data in the first two chapters of this book, is that songs were sung long before Raga as such was formulated. The Hindu account is that there were four sources of Rāg: (1) local tribal song, (2) poetical creations, (3) the devotional songs of the mystics, and (4) the labours of the scientific musicians. The principal ground for this belief is, no doubt, that all four causes are in full operation in India to-day, and are evolving the Rags of the next thousand years ; a secondary reason for thinking it to be the case is to be found in the names of Rāgs such as (1) Kānadā, the Carnatic; (2) Hindol, a swing; (3) Jogi, a mystic; (4) Sārang, from Sārañgadeva, a musician of the thirteenth century. The most important of these sources, because the most constant and widespread and unconscious, is the first-tribal song. Unfortunately, we do not yet possess nearly sufficient data to enable us to trace the actual formation of Rāga from this source, for India; but we may get an idea of it from our own Folk-song. The fourteen versions of a song variously called ' The seeds of love', 'The sprig of thyme', &c., given in the annexed example, have been taken from the volumes of the English Folk-song Society's Journal, and one of them from Sharp's Folk-songs of Somerset. When the English counties have been thoroughly explored, there will prove to be not fourteen, but very likely forty or four hundred of such versions. The first seven of these are, however, enough to show how a melody may take various shapes and yet centre in a common mode; and also how by a slight shift of the centre of gravity, brought about by the battle of its several phrases for supremacy, the melody slips from one mode to another. At the end of each melody is set the scale in which it appears to lie, with the strong (balin) and weak (alpa) notes marked, and after these the name of the Rag to which in principle, though not, of course, in detail, this scale corresponds. Supposing a variety of scales to have been brought into use by tribal song from various sources, next comes the poet and weaves

FOLKSONG VARIANTS

Border Melody

i. 288 (2) Deskar. 3.

The garden well perfumed

1.86

1 sowed my seeds of love Hamirkalıān 59

i88

1 sowed the seeds of love ii. 24(3)

I sowed the seeds of love Kamodkaliān. 55

i. 23

Sovay Sovay

F.S.S. Kamodkaliān

So the soldier was seen alone ii. 24(1) Pancham. 8

1 once had a sprig of thyme ji. 288 (1)

The seeds of love i.209(3)

The seeds of love i.209(2)

The bailiff's daughter of Islington i.209(1) Plagal major mode

Come you lads and lasses gay i. 210(1)

My old thyme It is all gone i. 210(2)

I sowed the seeds of love ii. 24(2)

Ex. 249. To face p. 154. N.B "Sovay Sovay", the sixth of these variants, has in the "Folksongs of Somerset-" a piquant mixlure of Iwo-lime and three-time, which is neglecled here for the purpose of comparison (cp p 134)

RĀGA 155

his mythology round them. He speaks of six original Rāgs which were suddha (pure). The six are variously given. The six of the Ragavibodha, as authoritative as any, are, though under other names, Nos. 13, 26, 37, 47, 49, 51. Of these, modes were taken, sometimes called mūrchaņa (rise and fall), sometimes jātī (species). The next step was to cross the jātis and produce hybrids 1 (Chāyālaga, Sankirņa, Sālanka, Miśra, &c.). The poet speaks also of the six original Rags having wives (bhārya) and sons (putra), and it seems hardly worth while to translate these into the plain prose of 'mode' and 'hybrid'. The exact pedigree of the putras seems to be irrecoverable: their names are all there (though no two lists give them alike), but not a trace of form or feature. Meanwhile the philosopher has been at work upon the psychology of the music, and, without any special theories as to the emotional value or the 'mental effect' of this or that note or combination, determines on general grounds the ethos of the Rāg, its appropriate- ness to occasion or to circumstance, or its effect upon the body, or its affinities with the various affections of the spirit or aspirations of the soul. These views linger in some of the names of the Rāgs : Dīn-ka-(pūria), of the day', Shām-(kalian), 'evening', Basant, 'spring', (Gaurī-)mano-hāri, 'pleasing to the mind'; or in the legends about them, as of Dīpak (=Māravā, No. 49), which en- flamed not only the mind, but the body of the singer so that even the Jumna could not put out the fire. Descriptive names of this kind were commoner and more elaborate in old days. The famous Mahā-ryut-patti (Sanskrit-Tibetan vocabulary, seventh century or later) has a list of sixty Rāgs, the translations of a few of which are-'with a voice like the thunder-cloud', 'like the trumpeting of the elephant', 'like a sparrow', 'like the serpent king', 'like Indra', or again, 'smooth', ' refined', 'making fully to comprehend', 'not puffed up', 'delighting every organ', 'having the chief voice in all sorts of sounds', and so forth. Last of all, when by these three processes the number of Rāgs had reached hundreds or thousands, came the mathematically- minded musician who tabulated the scales as deviations from a normal scale (grama), calculated the departures in quarter-tones (śruti), and rung the 13678 changes (prastāra) on the seven notes

1 I have been unable, however, to find any explanation of the way in which this was done.

156 RĀGA

(svara) ; reduced the 108 traditional ways of counting time by syllable (aksara), i. e. a development from the longs and shorts of poetry, to thirty-five ways of counting it by time-unit (mātrā,1 lit. syllable) which are rhythms (tala) ; and provided both Rāg and Tal with an intricate memoria technica to which not every one possesses the key.2 This kind of musician is commoner in the Carnatic than in Hindostan, where theory has reared a less imposing edifice. The aesthetic effect of the amsa is important. Whatever may have been its origin-and there is every probability that it was the tonic in the same sense as the Greek mese-its present function is to define the tessitura. With harmonized melody we are not accustomed to think much about this-until perhaps we have to consider what sort of song we shall be able to sing when we are tired.3 But in unharmonized music very much, more than any- thing else, depends on the general level in which the song lies. A song with a high tessitura has quite a different character from a song with a low one. It was in this very point that in Greece the ' plaintive' modes (e.g. the Mixolydic) were distinguished from the ' soft and convivial' (e.g. the Lydie), according to Dr. Macran (Harmonics of Aristoxenus, 1902, pp. 39-81). An example of the plaintive kind of Greek song with a high tessitura (and the Mixo- lydic fifth) may be seen in Pachtikos (Aismata Hellēnica, Athens, 1905, No. 133), a funeral dirge circling about B, Bb, and A, and descending to a tonic E. There is no doubt also of the low position of the amsa in the convivial Kalians (Nos. 50-59), or of its high position in the serious Bhairavi (32) and Bhairav (37). Similarly, the theme of Mozart's Clavier Sonata in A major owes perhaps some of its alertness to its high, and that of the Choral Symphony something of its restraint to its middle tessitura; but we can hardly be said to have erected this into a principle of our art. An English-speaking Indian habitually chooses the word 'tune' to translate Rag. And the fact is he does not attach much impor- tance to the tune of a song. A song may be sung in many ways- the more the better, as a rule-so long as it is within the well- 1 It is noteworthy that both mātra and aksara are terms of prosody. Cp. the early reckoning of musical time in Europe, Oxford History of Music, vol. i, p. 168 seq. 2 See Chinnaswami Mudaliar, Oriental Music, pp. 16 and 25. 3 Aristotle spoke of modes with a low mese as 'old men's scales'.

RĀGA 157

defined limits of the Rag; on the other hand, the least departure from the prescribed notes surprises us, not always pleasurably. This has one advantage, at any rate, that it is unnecessary to record Indian tunes in notation. The names of the Rägs to which the Gita-Govinda (eleventh century) was sung have been preserved, and even in the absence of a notation it is open to any musician of to-day of sufficient skill to sing them as expressively as Jayadeva himself. On the other hand, the absence of definite melody precludes concerted music. Several rehearsals are necessary in order to get a dozen people to sing a hymn in unison, and to overcome the lust for 'grace' and contrappunto alla mente. When some years ago Bande Mataram was being sung there were probably six different versions at half a dozen different street corners of Calcutta, of which the following, taken down from the lips of a blind man in Dalhousie Square, and sung at the top of his voice without causing a single passer by even to turn his head-so little did the mere tune convey anything-is one : Maestoso. Ex. 250. Ban-de mā-ta-ram su-ja - lām su-fa - lām Ma la - ya-ja-shi-ta-

• lam Sho-shya shyā-mala khe - trām Ban - de mā - ta - ram

Ko - ti ko - ti kan-the Ka-la ka-la ni - nā - de Di sap - ta

ko - ti Bhu-je shob-he ka-ra - bā . le

I bow before thee, O mother, who art washed clean by rivers, by rain- drops, by oceans. By the help of thy life-giving waters and the free breezes born in the Malaya mountains thy crops yield and thy fruit-trees bear. A thousand thousand nurtured on thy lap are making prayer to the Almighty Father and to thee. O mother Durga, in your ten hands you have as many weapons always ready to protect your children. But because we have lost our devotion therefore you have no sympathy for us.

We have seen nothing in the facts of Räga so far with which to meet a possible suggestion of the frivolous, that if you were to put

158 RĀGA

the phonogram of an Indian melody on to the cylinder fore part behind and hear the tune backwards it would sound just as well. One answer to this would be that in that case all the ascending passages would come out as descending and vice versa, and that many (not all) Rägs have a distinct form for ascent and descent. And this in two ways, or at least as two manifestations of the same instinct. The pentatonic (odava) and hexatonic (shādava) modes are often pure (as in Nos. 1 and 24), but sometimes mixed (as in Nos. 4 and 11): in the pure mode the 'leap' is taken abso- lutely; in the mixed mode it is taken with a subsidiary grace- note, or in a sort of tentative way. In descent the 'leap' is bridged by a passing note :

Ex .= 251.

in ascent, if it is not taken absolutely, the voice climbs up to it, as it were Ex. 252.

If we refer back to Ex. 226 (Śardula-vikridita) for a moment we shall find an example of this. The scale is

Ex. - 253.

and the weak note is B; the gap A-C has to be negotiated, and this is done thus : Ex .= 254.

Behāg (No. 60), for instance, is divided into tetrachord (B C-E) and pentachord (E F G-B) with the gaps occasionally filled. We will take the tetrachord Ex. 255

The B usually, but sometimes the E, is given as amsa; they are at any rate about equally prominent notes. Next in importance is the C, and least important the D. In effecting the passage from B to E such phrases will occur as

Ex. 256.

RĀGA 159

while the descent from E to B may be by leap, but will generally be by step : Ex. 257.3

In most Rags, even if heptatonic (sampūrņa), there is still a feeling that some notes are strong (balin) and others weak (alpa), and these weak spots tend to be negotiated in this 'crooked' (vakra) way. And if the Rags are actually transilient (varja) they are apt to be vakra in ascent, and to have the gap filled in descent-rather than the other way. So that to turn ascent (arohana) into descent (avārohaņa), or vice versa, would be completely to falsify the Rāg. Other answers to the 'frivolous' person could be made on the grounds of Time and of Form (see Chapters VIII and XI). Similarly other Rāgs have typical phrases :

58. Kaliān. Ex. 25 258.

59. Yaman-kalian. Ex. 9 259.

60. Kamod-kaliān. Ex.a 260.4

61. Hamir-kalıan.

Ex. Da 261.

57. Shām-kaliān is not vakra.

But it must not be thought that every melody necessarily contains the typical phrase of the Rag. In India, as in Europe, the rules are ' the obedient humble servants' of the composer; he obeys them, of course, but in the spirit, not the letter, just as the best sculptor's work approximates most nearly to, but never exactly coincides with, the nine-unit or ten-unit or other system which the case may require; or, as we ourselves should maintain, while a given chord has its typical resolution, yet that music is chiefly to be prized which in obeying this 'rule' manages still to say something new that, when closely examined, really disobeys it.

160 RĀGA

What surprises us most in this music is its predominantly con- junct motion.1 Leaps of all sorts are taken, including those which do not appeal so much to us-the tritone and the augmented second. But if small they still have the character of being a, if not the, next door note; if large, they seem to be merely a means of getting quickly to some other contrasting register. They do not seem to be used for the pure pleasure of the interval itself, as in many examples we might quote from our music : HANDEL. Ex. : mf

BEETHOVEN. WAGNER. f

3

R. STRAUSS.

&c.

Contrast with these such a melody as the following : Brahma Samāj hymns. Dhrūpad. Jhil2 Surphakt. +=110. Ex. 263. 10 8

Pra-ti - di-na ta - ba gā - thã gā - ba ā-mi shū-ma-dhur

Tu-mi de - ha mo - re ka - thã tu - mi de - ha mo-re sūr

Tu-mi ja-di thā -ka ma - ne bi-ka-cha ka-ma-lā - sa - ne 1 So little is there any idea of the possibility of disjunct motion that there seems to be no distinctive name for it. The leap of a Third is called Abhyucchraya, 'pressed together' ; of a Fourth, Prastara, 'extension'; and of a Fifth, himkāra (making the sound Him or Om, the syllable of the sacred name; the application is obscure). A singing exercise in mixed leaps is also called rārida (?). The old words nigraha, 'subduing' (sc. suppressing the intermediate note), and pravesa, 'binding together' (sc. the neighbouring notes)-disjunct and conjunct motion -seem now to be forgotten. · 2 A Jhil is a Rag without grace-notes.

RĀGA 161

Tu - mi ja - di ka · ra prān ta - ba pre-me pa - ri - pūr

Tu- mi de - ha mo-re ka - thã tu - mi de -ha mo-re sūr

Tu - mi- sho - na ja - di gān ā - mā-ra sa - mū-khe thā - ki

Su - dha ja - di ka- re dan to - ma - ra u - da - ra āṋ ki

Tu-mi ja - di du-kha - pa - re rā-kha ka-ra sne-ha - bha - re

Tu - mi ja - di su - kha ha te dam - bha ka- ra - ha dur

D.C.al ..

Tu - mi de - ha mo . re ka - thã tu -mi de - ha mo -re sur.

Upendrakisor Ray's translation .- Day by day shall I sing thy sweet song. Give thou me the words, give thou me the tune. If thou abidest in my heart in the full-blown lotus seed,1 if thou makest my soul overflow with thy love, if thou hearest my song, seated in my heart, if thy noble and beautiful eyes lend me the nectar of their glance, if thou on my sorrows placest thy hand pitifully, if thou from my happiness chasest away pride- give thou me the words, give thou me the tune.

It is true this is a Folk-song, to which words have been added by Rabindranath Tagore, and a Jhil (i. e. without grace-notes); but it will do as well as one in a formal Rāg to show the general preference for step over leap. Another thing which completely baffles our ears is the way even the conjunct motion is taken. The following hymn of the Brahma Samāj:

1 God abides in the innermost recesses of the heart in the form of a lotus seed. The lotus is the type of purity; it may be offered, even when not fresh (as other flowers may not) unless previously offered to another. Hence 'lotus lips', 'lotus feet', &c. 1495 M

162 RĀGA

Brahma Samāj hymns. Rāg Sohani; Tal Surphakta. 'Prathama aditāla.' =130. Music and words by Astaï RABINDRANATH TAGORE. Ex. =210 264. 12-8 (4+2+4) Antara.

a Sanchari.

a

Abhog. (a)

N.B .- Crotchets or minims would have been more appropriate; quavers are used in order to suggest the rhythm better.

Upendrakisor Ray's translation .- Thy power is from all time; from all time is thy supreme radiance in the skies. Thine is the first word. Thy joy lives in each new year afresh in the heart. In the firmament of thy mind glisten the sun and the moon and the stars. The wave of life vibrates in the atmosphere. Thou art the first poet; the master of poems art thou. Thy deep-voiced utterances find voice in praise and prayer which ascends from all the world.

sung as I heard it on their anniversary (January 25) with a choir of twelve voices supported, in unison, by a small organ and two violins, with drum, was extremely impressive. In particular the phrase marked (a) at the end of each section seemed to give it that sort of sublimity which we recognize in those chords that smote on Samuel Butler's ear on his entrance into Erewhon. Both these peculiarities, a preference for conjunct over disjunct motion, and unusual sequences in conjunct motion, are made possible and almost demanded by the absence of harmony. They are demanded as a means of contrast. Motion through the notes of a chord, when there is no idea of forming chords at all, does not give enough contrast; E and G say more or less the same thing as C. And again, when the ear has become accustomed to the sound

RĀGA 163

of F# G Ap-a note with an upward and downward leading note- to pass direct from F# to Ab is a very striking divagation from the normal, and gets a higl value from the consciousness of the norm behind it. The claim is occasionally made that this music has harmony, or a 'sort of' harmony, in it. Such feeling for harmony as is involved in the construction of a scale at all, especially of such an elaborate and balanced scale, or in the appreciation of the greater sonority of C G C over the simple C in the drone, it has. But of harmony, in the sense either (1) of the sequent intervals in melody being chosen for their consonance, or (2) of two notes being sounded simul- taneously for the sake of the consonance, there is none; therc is less even than among the North American Indians whose music,1 as far as at present investigated, is at a very early stage. And it seems impossible that there should be any. Hindu music, though it has enormously refined the detail, has not advanced beyond the principles of Greek music. This may not seem an inducement to deny them harmony to those who still think that the Greeks had harmony. But at least this is true that harmony in the sense of the Organum and of Dufay did not become possible till the Greek modes had long lost any feeling of the mese (amsa) and of the functions (dunameis) of the other notes.2 And the first thing that harmony would do, if now applied even tentatively to Indian music, as some advocate, would be to get rid of that feeling and those functions, and with them of the grace-notes and all that makes Rāg worth having. As the Räg now is, its notes are like the pieces on the chess-board; harmony, by investing them all equally with powers of its own, would make them like the pawns. Hence the serious menace to Indian music of the harmonium, which has penetratcd already to the remotest parts of India.3 It dominates the theatre, and desolates the hearth; and before long it will, if it does not already, desecrate the temple. Besides its deadening effect on a living art, 1 There is one curious point of contact, the more curious that any direct con- nexion is unthinkable : the Chippewas draw a picture of a tune, by the help of which another man can sing it, and the Hindus set store by their Ragmālas, sets of paintings of gods or men affected by the passion which the particular Rāg expresses. See also Ex. 457. 2 That in virtue of which they took their part in the mode as vādi, samvādi, &c. 3 I was present for an hour at a concert in Trivandrum at which this appalling instrument never ceased, and I found in the Salt Range (Northern Panjab) a 'Teacher of Song and Harmonium'. M 2

164 RĀGA

it falsifies it by being out of tune with itself. This is a grave defect, though its gravity can be exaggerated; it could also be lessened by a revised tuning. A worse fault is that it is a borrowed instrument, constructed originally to minister to the less noble kind of music of other lands. It has taken a century to invent and perfect the pianoforte; if she must have the fatal facility of a keyed instrument, India could well spare a century or two for inventing something that should do justice to her music. The question as to what foreigners are to make of this musie is still more difficult. To add harmony to it is to kill it; and yet it is impossible for Europe to understand melody except in terms of harmony. Harmony has been successfully added to songs whose musical thought is nearer our own in Stanford's Irish Songs or Bourgault Ducoudray's Chansons de la Basse Bretagne. But are the Chansons de la Grèce et de l'Orient a complete success? And is the' problem quite so simple as Herr Polak1 supposes; though he exhibits the curiosities of Indian music, does he convey the art ? It is quite possible to select, as Lady Wilson 2 and others have done, those songs which have definite cadences-and there are a few-or even to invent cadences for those which have none, to give then a frankly European dress, and to suggest the kind of mood in which a foreigner listens to Indian music. That is a definite thing well worth doing; but it does not bring one any nearer to an under- standing of the indigenous art. The best authorities on Bengali say that it is untranslatable, and one has heard the same of Sanskrit; and there seems to be no way of understanding the music except to set to work and learn its language. We now examine a Räg in practice, and for this purpose take one of the commonest-Yamankalian. Of the three instances here given : Yamankaliān. (1) Ex. 263

D.C. al :S:

1 Die Harmonisirung indischer, türkischer und japanischer Melodien, Leipzig, 1905. 2 Five Indian Songs, Paterson & Sons.

RĀGA 165

D.C. al S

D.C. al S:

the first is a Svarūvarta, an exercise sung to the Svaras (Sa, Ri, Ga, &c.) used as a teacher's model of the Räg; the other two are simple songs for children. We learn that the E is made prominent by the melody circling about it, or stopping there; that the passage E-G or G-E may be taken as a leap, but that if the movement is slow an F# is inserted as a grace-note (not an Fh); on the other hand, an F between two E's is always made natural. Of the following songs, 'Dukhera beshe' is a hymn of the Brahma Samāj; I do not know why the mode is called mishra (mixed). ' He mora debatā' is a poem. Both are Khyals, and by Rabindranath Tagore. ' Hādi e illah' is a Thumri from Benares. It was sung to me by a Mohammedan in Bombay with very genuine feeling. The words are Hindostani. The Rāg Kalyānī does not differ much in this particular melody from Imankaliān, except that occasion might arise, but does not, for Fh's.

Brahma Samāj. V. 40. Mishra Imankaliān. Jhampa. Tonic D. (3+2.) = 125. Ex. 266 Du-khe-ra be-she e - se-chha ba- le to-mā-re nā-hi da-ri - ba he. D.C. al

Ye-khā-ne bya-kha to-ma-re se - khā ni - bi - ra ka-ri kha - ri - ba he

166 RĀGA

Ān-dhā-re mūkh dhā- ki - le swā-mī to-mā-re ta-bu chi-ni-ba ā - nu

Ma - ra - na rū-pe ā - si - le pra-bhū cha-ra-ņa kha-ri ma - ri - ba he

D.C. al .

Ye man ka- re dāo - na de-khā to-mā-re nā-hi da-ri-ba he

Na-ya - ne ā - ji jha-bi-ccha ja - la ja - ru- ka ja-la na- ya-ne he

ba -ji-ccha bu-ke bā - jūk - ta-ba ka-thi- na bal- ri bau-kha-ne he

Tu-mi se ā-chha ba -kshe kha-re ba-da- na tā - hā jā - nāk mo - re

Chā- ba-ņā ki-cchā ka - ba- na ka-khā cha-hi - yā ra - ba ba- da-ne he

D.C. al

Na-ya - ne tā - ji jha-ri-cche ja- la jha - ru - ka ja - la na-ya-ne he.

(The translation of ' Dukhera beshe', by Upendrakisor Ray.)-Though thou comest in the garb of war, yet shall I not fear thee; rather shall I hold thee tight to the place where it hurts. Though thou hidest thy face in darkness, yet shall I know thee. If thou comest as Death I shall clasp thy feet and die. In whatever manner thou showest thyself to me, I shall not fear thee. Tears fall from my eyes to-day : let the tears fall from my eyes. My hurt aches in thy hard embrace : let it ache. Let that pain tell me thou hast me held to thy breast. Nothing shall I want, nothing shall I say, but simply keep my gaze fixed on thy face. Tears fall from my eyes to-day : let the tears fall from my eyes. Imankaliān (Tonic F). Ektāla. J = 70. Astaï. CrES. Ex. 267.4 He mo-r(a) de ba-tā bha-ry - a e de - ha prāu .

RĀGA 167

sf

Ki am - ri - ta tu - mi chā-ha ka- ri - bā - re pān

Antara.

he mo - ra de - ba - tã A - mā - ra na - ya - ne

to - mā - ra bī - sa chhā - bi De-khy-a la - i - te

sadh jai ta - ba ka - bi Ā - mā - ra mu gdha

sra - va - ne ni -ra - be ra - hi Su - ni-ya la - i - te chã - ha

. pa - nā ri gān He mo-r(a) de - ba - tā

Sanchari.

Ā - mā-r(a) chi tte to - mā - ra sri - shti khā ni

-0

Ra-chy-a tu - li-chhe bi - chi tra e - ka ba - ni

Abhog.

Tā - ri sā - the pra-bhu mi - li - ya to - mār prī - ti

Jā - gā - ye tu - li - chhe ā - mār sa - kal -(a) gī . ti

Ā - pa - nā - re tu - mi de-khi-ccha ma-dhu-ra ra - se

168 RĀGA

Ā - mā-ra mā - jhā - re ni - je - re ka - ry - ã dān

He mo-r(a) de - ba - tā. (The poet's, and composer's, own translation.) -What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this overflowing cup of my life! My poet, is it thy delight to sec thy creation through my eyes, and to stand at the portals of my enchanted ears silently to listen to thine own eternal harmony ? Thy world is weaving words in my mind, and thy joy is adding music to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love, and then feelest thine own entire sweetness in me. (Gītānjalī. No. 65.)

Kalyānī. d=40. p Molto adagio. EX 268.

Hā di e il - lah Hā

di e il . lah Sa - hi - ba Sa hin se

ta . ra - ka Ri - ma ra - hī ma a -

kī ma hã - li-man hā li-man Pā - ka bī

f

ne a - je pā - ka la - ti . fa pā ka - jā -

pp Sotto voce. D.C

ta par - de po sa dā na - bi - na.

Mighty is God the Lord. O Lord God, from thee cometh salvation. Mighty, Almighty, All-knowing, All-loving! Day by day thy holy presence is nearer to us : in the darkness thou art near us.

The melodies ' Dukhera beshe' and ' Hadi e illah' do not lose so mueh as some others in notation : if they are sung with a little faith

RĀGA 169

and goodwill some impression at least will be conveyed of their sin- cerity and quiet fervour. ' He mora debata',is perhaps more difficult ; the melody will strike a European at first as running up hill only in order to run down again. There is a great temptation to regard the close as in A minor and to supply a G harmony to the fourth bar; and these temptations must be firmly resisted. The fourth bar rises to the tonic (not the seventh of G) through the 'strong' notes A and E (not C); and an F pedal must be held on in order to get the plaintive character of the close

Ex. = 269.

tā (not at all unlike that of the Sixth Ecclesiastical Tone) which is on the 'strong' note and therefore in a sense a 'full' close, but which is not the tonic, and therefore points away, as it were, to something beyond it. Also the rhythm of the ninth bar is difficult. The eighth and ninth bars are taken as one sweep of melody and in strict time, but with the prosody of the words crossing this time in the ninth bar, as if it were Ex. = 270. kc.

Sadh jai ta-ba ka bi Ā-mā-ra It offers just that sort of pleasure which we get in lines of blank verse -Dúncan is in his gráve; After lífe's fítful féver he sleéps wéll ; Treáson has done his wórst ; nor steél, nor poíson, Málice doméstic, fóreign lévy, nóthing Can toúch him fúrther .- where the assertiveness of the individual words fights against and yields to the compelling calm of the metre. The next thing is to consider the list of Rags as a whole. We notice that they are re-entrant: that is, they return upon them- selves after making the full circle as, by an accepted adjustment, our keys do, but as our modes do not.1 The order here adopted is to show this; it is not the order of the native treatises. Any point might have been, and the simplest form of our major scale is, taken as the point of departure. Nos. 1-5 are transilient, and modes of

1 These refuse to admit the Locrian, so that there is a gap between the Lydian at one end and the Phrygian at the other.

170 RĀGA

each other. Nos. 6-8 transitional. No. 9, the major scale. Nos. 10-14 substitute Bb for Bh. Nos. 15-21 flatten the E as well. Nos. 22-5, the Bb and Eb are fully established. No. 26, anoma- lous. Nos. 27, 28, A flattened. Nos. 29-31, though they seem to show a good deal of licence, are really transitional between the two- flat and the four-flat. seale.1 Nos. 32, 33, Db (of some sort) established. At this point the European circle of modes stops, because the next modal shift would flatten the G. This mode with a flat Fifth will be discussed later under Saman chant. The Rāgs proceed, after reaching four flats, by sharpening the leading note to the tonic and then the leading note to the Fourth as well.2 No. 34, Bh. Nos. 35-8, Bh, En. No. 39, a tentative sharpen- ing of F, as the leading note to the Fifth. Nos. 40, 41, the F sharpened instead of the Eb. Nos. 42-8, all three leading notes sharpened. Nos. 49-52, after a little remaining hesitation over the Ab and Db we get back in Nos. 52-63, through the Kalians, to the place we started from. These sixty-three are only the best known out of some hundreds of Rägs; but to have shown them all would only have taken the principle of re-entrance to another place of decimals, as it were. The Rags have been arranged in this way not merely to obtain a symmetrical system, but also to bring out an essential point. They fall, in the first instance, into nine or ten groups, of which the centres are perhaps : 1. Bhūpkaliān. 32. Bhairavi. 9. Shankarābharaņa. 37. Bhairav. 14. Jhinjoti. 44. Basant. 23. Kāfi. 50. Pūriakaliān. 28. Āsāvarī. 53. Kaliān. But secondly, each group consists of an average of seven Rāgs (out of a total of sixty-three; out of a total of 500, an average of fifty or sixty). And a Rāg gets its special flavour not so much from its being just what it is, as from its not being something else, closely allied to it, which is present all the time in the musician's con-

1 There is the same sort of hesitation about our Aeolian mode which frequently shows a Dorian sixth and a Phrygian second. 2 What has hitherto been described as successive flattening might, of course, have been taken in reverse order and described as sharpening. The two are the same thing looked at from different points of view.

RĀGA 171

sciousness. Any one can hear the difference between, say, Jhinjoti and Bhairav; but the more of a musician a man is the more he can hear and enjoy the subtler distinction between, for instance, Jhinjoti and Desh, or the still subtler between Jhinjoti and Tilang. It might appear that as a given Räg is taken so differently (see Nos. 27-9, 46) in different parts of the country these distinctions do not much matter; but it must be remembered that the distinc- tions are accurately adhered to in any one district, or by any particular school; and that it is of no use to test the songs of Bengal, for instance, by the system of Gujarāt. And some of these characteristics are so strikingly beautiful as not easily to be missed, or to be forgotten, even by a foreigner : the strong legato from F# to E in Imankalian, for instance, or the pentatonic sug- gestion of Behäg, or the plaintive alternation of the two B's in Khamaj, or of the two E's in Kafi, or the old-world sound of the scale of Kānadā. In No. 59, Hamīrkaliān, the sharp Sixth (A) appears. It is sounded very likely in others, but I could get no certain information. Similarly, the eight Rags with exceptional intonation given in Appendix II is probably not a complete list; they are merely those of which the true intonation has been preserved in one part of the country, Gwalior; at Calcutta, for instance, I heard of Āsāvarī (No. 28) as being of exceptional tuning, but of none of these; and Mr. Clements gives other instances from the Deccan. Express mention is seldom if ever made in the books of the Drone. It is taken for granted of course; though, to those who have never heard it, it is not at all an obvious concomitant of melody. In fact, at first it is a little confusing, even irritating; but one gets to discount it as readily as one does the hammering of the pianoforte keys or the scraping of the violin bow. It is there not only because without it, especially with quarter-tone scales, the singer would feel, as a Benares musician said, 'like a ship without a rudder,' but in order to consolidate the melody. Not that a song cannot be sung without it; a ryot returning from his work, or a mother nursing her baby, does not have first to go and fetch a tambura; but, as the boy said when asked why he had godfathers and god- mother at his baptism-'because, I suppose, it makes it a sweller thing'. The drone may be a drum, carefully tuned, or two drums, in unison or at the octave, or the drone strings of the vīnā; but is

172 RĀGA

as a rule, and with the best singers, a tambura, a large rīna-shaped instrument, with one gourd (sound-board) instead of two, and with open strings-two or three Sa's and one Pa. The drone strings of the vīņā and satār or of the surbahar, a large satār common in Bengal, often have amongst them one tuned to Ma, and there is, curiously, no objection to the Pa and the Ma sounding together. The effect of this may be heard in the ' wilderness' part of Granville Bantock's Omar Khayyám.

Turkomani melody. Chorus. Tenors and Basses. GRANVILLE BANTOCK.

EX. 271.

&c.

RĀGA 173

But they avoid putting either of these notes on the drone if the Rag which is being sung omits it. Thus, for Bibhas they would tune the Ma to Ga, in spite of the 'thick' effect of a major Third so low in the compass; for Malkos, in which there is no Pa and the b Ga is an E, and neither this nor E would be available on the drone (which must be as consonant as possible), the Pa string would be tuned in unison with the Ma string; and it is only for the Euro- pean that the re-inforced Fourth of the scale upsets the tonality. The strings of the tambura are long and sonorous, and the Fifth overtone (Ga) comes out very clearly from the fundamental what- ever the other strings may be; and this still further adds to the dissonance of the Fourth. It is curious, too, that the Bh and Db of Bhairav, and the B and Dh of Todi should be sung, and evidently b

with special pleasure, against a C drone1; it recalls the cadence of the Organum : Ex. 272

(except that it is the C which is stationary, and the D comes down to it); and the dissonance upon a strong beat of Descant : Ex. 278. &c.

(except that it is much more common than that apparently was). Thus the drone is of considerable use too in foreing a strong appog- giatura, which is the peculiar, perhaps the only, melodic point of the snake-charmer's pipe :

Ex. 274

About the simultaneous presence of Ma and Pa in the drone a word more may be said. It is interesting that the 'consonance' of the whole tone which appeals to the Hindus was one which the Greeks recognized too,2 and we see that it is the logical outcome of quintal harmony. That the appreciation of the whole tone is historically prior to that of the major Third may also be gathered from the form of the pentatonic scale which may be pronounced typical. This is not 1 Cp. the last chord of the Matthew Passion. 2 See Gevaert, La Musique de l'antiquité, vol. i, p. 98, and Westphal's edition of Plutarch's De Musica, p. 46.

174 RĀGA

Bhūpkaliān Ex 275.

but Sarang Ex. 276.

or Arabhi Ex. 277

and these entail no harmony except that of the Fourth and its derivatives, among which the whole Tone. Indeed the construction of the Sa-grama and Ma-grāma (see pp. 109 foll.) point to a stage of Indian music when the Pythagorean Third (derived from the Fifth) was being exchanged for the harmonic Third (heard directly) which has left its impress in this and other ways on the national art. There is of course no hesitation about this interval (the harmonic major Third) nowadays. A singer when preluding often touches the common chord of the key note, and will do this even when the Third of the Rag he is about to sing is minor. What, then, are the main differences, if we consider melody alone without rhythm for the moment, between this music and ours? First of all the song is cast in one definite mood throughout. This mood calls up associations, unnameable, but yet distinct, of similar song heard under similar circumstance; so much so that to tell an Indian what Räg a singer chose on such and such an occasion is to tell him a good deal about the song. We have no similar classifi- cation. We have plenty of ' mood' in our music, but we use it to articulate the balance of the song, not to differentiate one song from another. Secondly, in the chosen 'mood' (Rag) the notes stand out from each other as clearly as the faces of our friends do to the mind's eye. One of our systems describes the Third of the scale as the 'restful' note, the Fourth as 'awe-inspiring', another note as 'desolate', another as ' enterprising'. But in this music any given 1 Miss Gilchrist also (Folk-song Society Journal for 1911) makes out the original Scotch pentatonic to be

On the other hand, Frances Densmore (Chippewa Music, Bureau of American Ethnology, 1910, p. 9) shows the typical North American Indian scale to be what is here called Bhupkalian, and next to that Miss Gilchrist's form. (These two are Helmholtz's 'Fourth' and 'Second' form of the pentatonic.)

RĀGA 175

note of the scale may be any or all of these according to the ' mood' in which it occurs. Its character depends not on its pitch relation to a tonic only, though it does so depend partly, and on its relation to the tessitura of the song, which we also feel to be part of its essence (though the, to us, more important distinctions of harmony largely cut across this), but also on the extent to which it is ex officio a sub- stantive or a passing note. The whole scale is made up of a hier- archy of notes; so that the passage from G to Ab, let us say, is not merely an exaltation of pitch, nor merely an exchange of the perfect consonance C-G for the imperfect C-Ab, but a passage from a stable to an unstable note of the scale (for Ab may under certain circumstances become A) and from a permanent to a tem- porary (for the Ab may be altogether omitted, or omitted in certain conditions), or from a note of universal application to one which requires special treatment (for the Ab may be used in descent, but not in ascent). An instance, Rāg Kedāra, Ex. 278

as used in the following melodies, slightly different from the version given in the list of Rägs. The A is lightly touched, the E still more so. The F is predominant (amsa), the F# is used in Musica ficta, i. e. between two G's. In the first melody the Bh, in the second the Bn, is adopted. In both the E has a special treatment ; it is used only as a pendant to the F. The scale is seen to be a filled up Sarang, Ex. 279.

but with the amsa at F instead of D.

Rāg Kedāra. Metre, Vasantatilaka Tal. Mant. Andantino. - = 92. Ex. 280. Ha chan - dra mā u - ga - va lā ga - ga - nā pra - dī - pa

A - he - ta shu · kta, gu - ru, man - ga - la jyā sa - mi - pa

176 RĀGA

Tyã - chã pra - kā - sha bha - ra - tā ga - ga - no da rā nta

To an - dha kā - ra la - pa - lā gi - ri - ga - vha - ra - nta.

Rāg Kedāra. RABINDRANATH TAGORE.

Ex. 281. ++

Ke di - la a - bār ā - ghāt A mā-ra du-

re Ke di - la a bār ā - ghāt

E ni - shi-tta ka - le Ke a - si dar - ā le Khan-ji - te a -

si - le ka - hã re Ke di - la a - bār ā - ghāt

Ba - hu kãl ha - l ba - san . ta di - na e - se thi - la

ā - ka pa - thi - ka na - bī - na A - ku - la ji - ba - na

Ka · ri - na ma - ga - na A - ku - la pu - la - ka pā

thã l'e Ke di - la a - bār a - ghat. . .

Ā - ji e ba - ra - sha ni - bi - ra ti - mi - ra Jha-ra jha - re

ja - la - jir .. na (ye) ku - ti ra Ba - da - le · ra

RĀGA 177

bā . . ye pra - di - pa - ni bā .. ye Je - ge bo - she

a . chhi a kā re A - ti - thi a - jā - na

ta - ta gi - ta su - ra la - gi - te - chhe kā - ne .

bhi - sha - na ma - dhu - ra Bha - bi - te - chhi ma - ne

IT

ja - bo ta - ba sā . ne A - che - na a - si - ma

an dhã - re Ke di - la a bār ā - ghāt.

N.B .- Basanta = spring; Megha = the rains.

It seems possible that closer investigation may one day discover in the European mediaeval modes, i. e. in the melodies which were sung in them, the counterpart of this distinction between 'strong' and 'weak' notes. When Luther, discussing the Church tones, said ' Christ is a gentle Lord and His words are lovely ; therefore let us take the sixth Tone for the Gospel; and since St. Paul is a grave apostle, we will set the Epistle to the eighth Tone', we can hardly believe that the peculiar flavour which he was conscious of in these tones proceeded merely from the substitution of the notes

Ex. 282.

for Ex. 283.

Each tone, or mode, must have had its individual notes charac- terized far more than appears from the mere formal statement of them. In this statement the relation of the amsa (Reciting note), marked (=), to the drone note (Final), marked (x), is the only

1495 N

178 RĀGA

discernible characteristic. But the other notes must have had felt relationships analogous to those of Indian Räga. Amongst these one or two may be mentioned. It is common to find Dorian melodies with the sixth of the mode flattened; a common beginning was

Ex. 284. This is, of course, Musica ficta, a B flattened between two A's. But why did Musica ficta confine itself to one or two special positions of the scale like this? We should not find, for instance, Ex. 285

or Ex. 286 * It can only have been because in the Dorian the B was felt as a 'weak' note, one which was touched lightly, or was alterable, or alterable under certain conditions. Again, modal melodies will be found to slip easily into the C major triad, making C a 'strong' note. Many Dorian melodies drop accordingly one place below the tonic at a close :

Ex. 287.

or Aeolian melodies begin naturally with a minor third :

Ex. 288 * and Phrygian substitute a C for a B as the ' dominant' :

Ex. 289. * Of course the theoretical rules about Dominants and Participants state all this, but they do not make the point clear that the under- lying feeling of the mode proceeds from the fact that each indi- vidual note has a character of its own and that a melody takes a certain tinge or flavour from the cumulative effect of these. We can see also why the C major mode was out of favour : it did not supply what was most valued in a mode, the antithesis of the Final (in this case C) with the 'strong' note (which was, in all the modes, C). It is interesting to find that in India the major mode

RĀGA 179

pure and simple is at a similar discount. Still the Indian Rags are not so closely parallel to the Ecelesiastical modes as to the Greek ; for the former lay much more stress on the Fifth, whereas in the latter the Fourth is the principal factor of consonance : in the Ecclesiastical a rather firm line is drawn also between authentic and plagal modes, a distinction which is on the whole foreign to Indian music. Thirdly, as a result of this individualizing of the several notes of the scale to form a Rag, repetition at different levels, 'imitation', is rare. Exact imitation can only take place in similar tetrachords. And though the majority of Rags are composed of tetrachords of which the constituent notes are similar in pitch-both are of the form tone, semitone, tone, or both of the form semitone, tone and a half, semitone, and so on-the two tetrachords are seldom identical in the character of their constituents. In the instance just given, Ex. 281, if the A is touched lightly its corresponding note, E, is touched still more lightly; the F is a substantive note and the F# a passing note, whereas the Bb and Bn which correspond to them are equipollent alternatives. A piece of imitation, therefore, in the two corresponding parts of the scale would not really be correspon- dent; hence we meet with only a very limited use of imitation at different levels. Again, our melodies tend to circle round the notes which are harmonically related to a tonic, as we see if we take melodies which have more or less the same motive-here, a downward passage through the scale : Andante. S. S. WESLEY. Ex. 290.

Andante moderato. BRAHMS.

Adagio. BEETHOVEN.

Allegro. BEETHOVEN.

Moderato. 'Hey boys, up go we.'

N 2

180 RĀGA

Allegretto ma non troppo. BEETHOVEN.

Andante con moto. 1st. 2nd. SCHUBERT.

Largo ma non tanto. BACH.

Adagio. THOMÉ

Allegro vivace. MENDELSSOHN. tr

Allegro. MENDELSSOHN.

An Indian melody sets no store whatever by any progress through notes which suggest harmony; on the contrary, it moves as far as possible by step, and notes which are harmonically related come quite indifferently upon the strong and the weak places of the rhythm. Another point in which the tunes just given would be un-Indian is the progression through the whole octave. An Indian melody confines itself to one part of the scale, and 'establishes' that- generally the lower part-first, and follows this by a passage in the upper part of the scale. Ex. 12 (1 and 2) is exceptional enough to prove the rule. On the whole, then, Indian Räg and mediaeval mode are inter- esting, as human beings are who consist of 'strong' and 'weak' points, so that we often do not know which we like them best for, or whether it is not rather for the interplay of both.

CHAPTER VII

GRACE

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it : if I do it let the audience look to their eyes. Midsummer Night's Dream.

MUsIc has been called a universal language, and no doubt, in the deepest sense, it is. But just as no one language can really be common to all peoples because it will be pronounced differently in different mouths, so the very same notes will be sung by different throats in such a way as to be unrecognizable to us. This is con- spicuously the case with Indian singing, in which all the distinctions of colour which we should get from notes in simultaneity has to be extracted from notes in succession. A note, G, has for us hundreds of different colours according to its harmony, such as, for instance :

Ex. 291. &c.

not to mention the cases where Eb is not the bass, or G not the treble, or the parts are more or less than four; while the passage from G to F admits of only a few variations,

Ex. 292.

and the like, singly or in combination. In Hindu, and probably in all purely melodic music, the single note as such is itself and nothing else, while the passage from one note to the next has a number of possibilities by way of grace-note. We think of grace-notes as something which may but need not be added to the note, not as something actually inherent in it. If cultivated for their own sake or used at all in excess they are regarded by us as meretricious. We remember with a smile Mendelssohn's trombone-player who announced the theme of the Lobgesang Overture as

182 GRACE

Ex. 293.

or we laugh with Spohr at his Italian horn-players who supplied obvious omissions in his score by their contrappunto alla mente, or on our own account at an occasional festival singer who ornaments penultimate notes into consecutive Fifths with the bass. The trills of the voice leave us cold, the 'turn' in 'Rienzi's prayer' spoils a rather dignified tune, and the family of double appoggiaturas in harpsichord music enjoys at best a sort of succès d'estime. Indian 'grace' is different in kind. There is never the least suggestion of anything having been 'added' to the note which is graced. The note with its grace makes one utterance. The object of grace is, of course, to add importance to the particular note; but there are such varying degrees in which this may be done that the whole system of gamak,1 the general term for the thing, becomes an elaborate vehicle of light and shade. It brings the notes of a melody, as surely as the various light and shade of a picture brings the contours of the face, from the flat into the round; which again is precisely what harmony does for them, by assigning to the successive notes varying degrees of consonance. There are nineteen 2 forms of gamak, or, omitting minor dis- tinctions, a dozen. For practical purposes these may be referred to two main types, on stringed instruments. The first sort is formed by sliding (gharsana, 'rubbing') the finger along the string, in either or perhaps in both directions. It differs from what we are accustomed to on the violin only in being more frequent and more spontaneous. The other sort is unknown to us and is not possible nowadays on our instruments.3 We set store by a rich, full-bodied tone; and for that and other reasons we prefer a comparatively thick string at a high tension to produce a note which in India is produced on a thin (and longer) string at a low tension.4 A lateral deflexion of any appreciable extent would set one of our strings out of tune by forcing the tuning peg

1 Pronounce 'gummuck'. 2 See the Ragavibodha in R. Simon's Notationen des Somanatha, Munich, 1903. 3 Except on a small scale on the practically obsolete clavichord. 4 A long thin string is divisible into a large number of nodes, and the corre- sponding upper partials give, incidentally, to a note which is somewhat deficient in body a peculiar glitter and brilliancy.

GRACE 183

from its position ; indeed, we often see a violinist taking advantage of this fact when tuning his instrument. But an Indian string can be deflected a good deal without disturbing the peg. The stopping finger of the left hand ' makes' the note, which the right hand then plucks; and while it is still vibrating the left hand deflects it and, of course, sharpens the note. If the note is stopped near the nut, only a slight sharpening, a semitone or two, is possible ; but if it is stopped in the middle of the string, a sharpening of as much as four or five or even seven semitones may be got. A good vīnā-player prefers to get his notes in this way, much as a violinist would rather play in the third position than in the first. To get an E, for instance, he will ' stop' at the B or the C or the C# fret and instantly deflect the string, so quickly, in fact, as almost to deceive both the eye and the ear of the listener. The 'deflect' as we may christen it (the Sanskrit word is dolana, ' swinging') imparts a wonderful flexibility to the execution, and demands, of course, an accu- rate ear for its successful performance. The ' slide' and the ' deflect' are known in Hindostan as Ghasit and Mind, in Bengal as Ash and Mirh, in the Carnatic as Dhara and Varek, and by other local names. But the vina, with its congeners the satār and surbahār, is only a younger brother of the ' vina of the body', the voice. It cannot rival the voice in one notable respect, the passage at will from loud to soft or from soft to loud. It is true that Indian singers do not make so much use of this advantage as they might, or rather they do it in a different way from what we might have expected. Crescendos are but seldom spread over several bars so as to lead to a climax; they are used rather to assist the grace-notes in their work of rounding the edges of the notes of the melody. In this, as in other ways not confined to music, Indian art aims rather at elaborating detail than at corroborating the lines of structure. It is in the grace-note that the unusual intonations, which were once no doubt commoner in the Rāgs than they now are, still survive. A grace seldom consists of the diatonic notes of the Rāg, as is obvious from the description just given. Consequently it is impossible without a very elaborate notation to give a true picture of it. There is the less need to do so since, even if it were faithfully presented, it would be impossible for European throats or fingers to perform it. Still an attempt has been made to hint at it. In the

184 GRACE

following example the crotchet heads representing the grace are attached to the substantive note by a slur. They are, indeed, placed upon a definite space or line, but must be taken only to suggest the place where the auxiliary notes begin and the sort of course they take. The heads without the tails of the notes are given because the time is variable and entirely at the will of the singer, which is influenced by the context in which they occur; but also in order to remind the reader that they are subordinate in a special sense to the substantive note. They occur after the note as well as before it : Rag. Bhairau. Tal. Tevra. (Seven crotchets, 3+2+2.) RABINDRANATH TAGORE. Lento. J= 70. (Hymn.) Ex. 294

The music of the Scotch bagpipe, the general effect of which is not at all unlike Indian pipe tunes, is, however, graced on a radi- cally different principle from that of Indian gamak. The scale of the bagpipe has preserved an unusual intonation, similar to, but not the same as, the Indian. This scale is described in Grove's Dictionary as : Scotch Bagpipe scale.

Ex. b

i.e. as, practically, a three-quarter tone scale (which is decidedly rare in India, and as Ellis1 points out is very nearly the same as, 1 'Musical scales of various nations,' Journal of the Society of Arts, March 27, 1885.

GRACE 185

and is probably intended for, the Arabian Zalzal's scale, Meshaqah). But its grace-notes are entirely diatonic; and, what is more signifi- cant, they are used not to soften the transition from note to note of the melody, but, principally, to intensify them by a rudimentary harmony. This may be seen in the 'Cock o' the North', taken from McKinnon's Collection of Pipe-music :

The Cock o' the North.

Ex. 296.

More accurately, for those who are interested in such matters, the bagpipe scale may be given in cents (i. e. Tdoths of a semitone). C C# F F#

From G (Just scale 0 204 386 498,590 702 884 996, 1088 1200

Bagp. scale 191 388 532 686 894 1044 1200

G A B C D E F G A

From A . (Bagp. scale 0 197 341 495 703 853 1009 1200

Just scale 0 204 316,386 498 702 814, 884 996 1200 C Cr F

186 GRACE

The true representative of the Indian instinct is found, in Europe, amongst the Magyars, as we should expect, of course, from the close connexion between the Romany and Hindostani languages. And if the Magyar grace-notes have, in their native purity, the microtonic intonation, some of their figures Ex. 297.

might, with a little less insistence on the rhythm, pass for Indian ; and their favourite metre, = e P , is quite in the Indian style, and an example of it is to be seen in the song 'Akla chalo' on p. 93, Ex. 177. At the end of the Ragavibodha are given fifty examples of the use of gamalc in fifty separate Rags, and with the help of Herr Simon's book (p. 182, note) and a knowledge of the Hindostani Rāgs it is possible to decipher these. The time, however, presents difficulty. The indication, and the only indication, for all the examples is the word dinmatra, which means 'general time', and refers, no doubt, to the Alapa or 'preluding in the Räg'. But time- less music is unappetizing and difficult to read ; so bars have here been added, and the crotchets and quavers arranged on the assumption that a graced note is longer than one ungraced. It must be clearly understood, however, that these time-values have no warrant in the original. The example chosen is in the Rag Vasanta (=spring). This Rag is endeared by its associations, which, whether they arise from it or not, are those of its name. It has also a strongly marked character. It is the F-f scale with the G flattened : the C is lightly touched, and the salicnt notes are A and E, which it will be noticed alone bear the trill; the D of this Rāg is generally held to be natural, but is sometimes given as flat (see the list of Rägs on p. 151, though it differs in some particular from each of the versions there given). Perhaps it may be pos- sible to realize some of its strange beauty by playing over the notes without the graces three or four times till they are familiar,

GRACE 187

and then singing or whistling it with the graces; but until it is heard in its native land the strangeness will probably remain more credible than the beauty :

Vasanta. (i.) Tonic F.

Ex. 298

The example of Vasanta was selected mainly because this par- ticular one was curiously misinterpreted in Sir William Jones's article in Asiatic Researches, and has been so reprinted by others. It was written out in an ordinary major key (A major); no hint was given of a gamak from beginning to end; and on the strength of its rhythm (as not given in a book of 1609) it was suggested as the melody of three of the songs in the Gita Govinda of the eleventh century (whose musical rhythm was not established by the poetic metre). Thus :

(Pseudo-) Vasanta (ii). Ex. 299. La - li - ta la - van - ga la - ta pe - ri - sī - la - na

ko - ma-la ma-la- ya sa - mī re ma-dhu-ka - ra ni - ka - ra ka-

ram - bi - ta ko - ki - la kū - ji - ta kun - ja ku - tī re

188 GRACE

vi - ha-ra - ti he-ri-rī ha sa-ra-sa va-san - te nṛt - ya-ti yu-va-ti ja-

ne - na sa-man sa - ci vi - ra -hi ja - na - sya du - ra nte.

The typical form of composition which exhibits ' grace' in all its glory is the Mohammedan Tappa, in which melodic flow and rhyth- mical structure are so veiled that it has seemed worth while to give them in a simpler statement in the stave below :

Tappa. Rāg Khamāj. Tāl Tintāl. Andante con moto. d = 70.

Ex. 800. 10

1

FINE.

9

3 1 2

6

3 1

6

10

GRACE 189

5

Dal S: al Fine.

Tappa. Rāg Kāfī. Tintāl.

Ex. 801.

FINE

Dal :S: al Fine.

The numbers over the bars of the skeleton tune represent the beats (see Tal). The graces are here written out in full, because abbre-

190 GRACE

viations would have been confusing, and on the diatonic notes so as the better to be taken in at a glance. But if the grace of bar 3, for instance, were put, as it were, under an aural microscope the real sounds would appear something like this :

Ex 302 13

with other passage notes in between which can be mentally supplied. Grace is so natural an accompaniment of any non-harmonic music that it may seem idle to search for a reason for it. Yet in the music of India it is so elaborate and so integral a part of song that it is tempting to try to account for it in some way. It seems as if the language may have been at least a contributory cause. When two vowels meet in Sanskrit, except in a few special cases they coalesce ; and the compound thus formed was marked in the Rigveda with the cireumflex accent called Svarita ('sounded'), which had half a dozen or more names according to the particular vowels which were in question. When the Rigveda accents (there were two others) were employed in the Samaveda, that is, in the chants to which the Rigveda was sung, they took the form of musical notes ; and the Svarita in particular was a high note with 'grace' attached to it. It is natural to conclude, therefore, that the 'deflect', as we have called it when it appears in instrumental music, represents that 'grace' and is traceable to this peculiar treatment of the vowels. When two consonants meet one is assimilated to the other so as to slide into it almost imperceptibly. Accommodations such as those in orthodok-sy and dog-ma, younk-ster and blag-guurd, Sut-ton and Sud-bury, eks-tra and egz-ample, and the like, have their counter- parts in Sanskrit, not only in the interior of one word, but quite as commonly between the end of one and the beginning of the next. It is the tendency to weld words together in these and other ways that gives perhaps its importance, as between notes, to that other class of grace, the ' slide'.

CHAPTER VIII

TĀLA

LANGUAGE, VERSE, MUSICAL TIME

From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. GRAY.

MUSICAL time is in India, more obviously than elsewhere, a development from the prosody and metres of poetry. The insis- tent demands of language and the idiosyncrasies of highly charac- teristic verse haunt the music like 'a Presence which is not to be put by'. The time-relations of music are affected both by the structure of the language, and by the method of versification which ultimately derives from it. Without pretension to any minute acquaintance with these, a sketch of their bearings upon musical time is here attempted.

I. LANGUAGE Those who spoke and speak Sanskrit have shown the delicate appreciation they had of minute phonetic changes. They have introduced modifications of the word to suit every emergency of context, and have recorded these with a precision to which Europe is a stranger. We may acquaint ourselves theoretically with the characteristics of the language, but it requires an effort to feel their effect and therefore to realize the force of the music which suits it. What we find difficult is to make a syllable long without putting a stress on it, or to put a stress at will on any short syllable ; we do not easily imagine the effect of a language which is quanti- tative and not (or only slightly) accentual. In setting such a word as Ălăkălāllă, an Englishman would certainly put the fourth syllable on the musical accent, because he would think at once of Abracadábra, confusing duration with stress. It has been set in an Indian song :

192 TĀLA

Tāl Rūpak. Ex. 808. A - la - ka - lā - lla lā - da -

and could no doubt have been set in other ways provided the fourth syllable were longer than the others; and we notice that it does not disturb the singer that the first syllable, which is short, comes on the accent, while the two long syllables (la) come one of them off and the other on the accent; but both are kept long, and all the short syllables are kept short in the music. It is moreover set not in §, as the sound of the word would have suggested to us that it should be, but in 2, which further throws a slight emphasis on the syllable ka-, because, as we shall see, the beat comes there. Not that a long syllable invariably has a long note, especially if two or three of them come together; but it does as a rule. In our poetry we do not know long and short, only stressed and unstressed syllables. When Keats writes : Upon the sodden ground His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred ; there is hardly a syllable that we can call longer than the others, unless perhaps 'ground'. But there are several places where we pause between the words, making up a kind of imaginary musical time. We lengthen out the last syllable of 'sodden' because of the next word. If that word had been 'earth', 'sodden' would have gone quicker. As it is, a little more emphasis is laid on 'sódden ground' than would be the case in ' sodden earth'; and the same thing happens with 'nerveless, listless', where the difficulty of pronouncing one word after the other makes us pause a little at the termination and so throw a slightly greater emphasis on the root of the word. All this is unlike Sanskrit. If we could imagine these syllables to occur in their poetry they would all be long by position- soddēn groūnd. 'Nerveless, listless, dead' would be altered to ' nerveleh, listleh, dead', the whole idea of the line being to run smoothly on as if it were one word, and not to aim at what we prize, the variety imported into it by the irregular stresses. Consequently rests are seldom written (except in order to break up

TĀLA 193

the metre intentionally in a dramatic way) in any of their songs, at any rate not, as we should, on account of the words : Tāl Ādi. Ex. 304% &c.

En - ta mud-dô . . en - ta - sö-ga - ső . . En - ta - A European would probably have put a rest at the end of each word. They appear to take breath when they want it, not at the end of words; but it would require an intimate knowledge of the various languages to be sure of this.

II. VERSE. Sanskrit metres fall into two main classes: (1) those which consist of quarter-verses (pada) of a given number of syllables, and (2) those which consist of verses of a given number of feet, each foot having a given time-length which is reached by equivalence. The first are called ' syllable-fixed' (varnavrtta), the second ' time- unit-fixed ' (mātrāvrtta). In the first class (varnarrtta), when the pada does not exceed eight syllables most of them are of optional quantity; when it exceeds eight the quantity of every syllable is fixed. The typical metre of this class with an eight syllable pāda is the śloka, the 'flowing' measure. The following lines constitute the first two ślokas of Bharata's Nātyašāstram (28th adhyāya) : tătām caīvāvănāddhām că | ghănām sŭșirăm ēvă că cătūrvīdhām tŭ vījñēyăm | ātodyām lākșănānvītăm (1) tătām tāntrīkřtām jñēyam | avanāddham tŭ paūskărăm ghănām tālās tŭ vījñēyăḥ | śŭșiro vāmśă ēvă că (2) The first two lines make a verse marked off into quarter-verses. Though the normal verse is a distich, an occasional tristich or three-line unity is, as in Scott's ballad metre, not excluded. The sense ends with the couplet, which includes, as in Pope's heroic metre, both the subject and the predicate of the sentence. Out of the sixteen syllables in the line only four are fixed by rule as regards quantity. These are marked below the words in the example; the quantity of the other syllables is optional; and the two lines of the śloka are independent of one another as regards this distribution. But it is difficult to realize the prosody of a language which is not familiar. The scansion may therefore be illustrated in any 1495 0

194 TĀLA

language which, like Latin, distinguishes quantity. The quantity of these particular lines is accordingly reproduced in the following rule for the versification of the śloka: Hăbēnt pērnīcītātēmquě : pědūm modūmquě cārmīnă. Modīs brěvēsquě lōngīquě : mīscēntūr vērsīpēllībŭs. Brěvīs quīntūs locūs, sūmmo īn : pědě dūplēx īāmbŭs ēst. Brěvī longāvě momēntă : sonāntūr vocě cāetěră.1 Even this, however, is not quite satisfactory, as Latin does not convey the sonority of the ubiquitous a sound in the Sanskrit, or the final thud of such a word as laksananvitam, which is more heavily stressed than the final of, for instance, pedum.2 The śloka, or anustubh (' with regular stops') is the most famous of all Sanskrit metres. There are two other typical examples of a pada with 8, or less, syllables-the gayatrī (singing') of 3x 8=24 syllables, and the uśnih ('hymn') of 4x7=28, which like the śloka have a large number of optional quantities and only a few fixed. When the pada is of more than 8 syllables-as in the tristubh (' with three stops') and the jagati ('lively'), of 11 and 12 syllables respectively, and various others up to 21 or more syllables-all the quantities are fixed. Couplets of these greater lengths are usually written in stanzas of four lines, and the lines are in modern poetry rhymed. Here is an instance of the tristubh genus (11 syllabled) ; it has the poetical name of ' the thunderbolt of Indra' (Upendravajra), and is in Marathi (rhymed) : Nă-hēn năbhō-māņdălă, vārī-rāśī, Nă tārăkā, phēnsăcī hā tăyāśī, Nă cāndrăhā, nāvăcī cālătāhē, Nă ānkă tō, tīvără sīdă āhē. Metre, Upendravajra.

Not this the sky - vault, - but a li - quid o - cean ; Not stars we see span gle, but flecks of sca - foam ; No moon a - loft glides, İ but a ship; and those spots Masts, that the wind bends as she runs be - fore it.

Ex. a 305.

Na hen na-bho - maņ - da-la vā - ri - rã - sT

1 'The verses contain feet which are at once measured and flowing. Longs and shorts are mingled by chameleon-like measures. The fifth place is short; there is a di-iambus in the last foot. The other syllables are sounded either long or short.' 2 When sung, the note to which it is set is hummed on the m and not vocal- ized on the a.

TĀLA 195

Na tā . ra - kā, pheņ - sa - ci hã ta - yā - śi

Na can dra hã, nā - va - ci câ la - tā - he . .

Na an ka to tí va - ra śī da ā - he.

It will be noticed that the line is composed of the first half of an Alcaic (- -- ) and the second half of a Sapphic (vv - v - v). And there is a pretty story of Alcaeus having sent Sappho a line which began, similarly, in his metre and ended in hers : Alcaic.

Ī - ō - plěk' āg - nã mēl - lĩ - cho - mēi - dě Sāp - phõi1 1 Sapphic. which, but for the fifth syllable, is exactly the metre Upendravajra. It does not spoil the grace of the valentine if we fancy that its metre was one of many Aryan memories that lingered on in the Hellenic consciousness. Upendravajra is read thus : Nă-hēņ năbhō- | māndălă | vārī-rāsi as the arrangement of the words in the four lines of Marathi shows This is of the form a +6+ a', in which a' is a taken backwards, and b is a well-contrasted member of the line. This suggests an interesting reading of the scansion of Alcaic and Sapphic stanzas, both of them forms about which it is difficult to make up one's mind : Sapphic. Iam satis ter | rīs : nīvs 1 atque dirae a+b+a Grandinis mi | sīt Pater, | et rubente a+b+a Dextera sa | crās : iăcă | latus arces, a+b+a

Tērrīt | urbem. b+g Alcaic. Vides ut alta | stēt nīvě cāndīdŭm c+d Soracte, nec iam | sūstněant onŭs c+d Silvae laboran (c+c antes, geluque | overlapping Flūmīnă cōnstītě ) 1d+c stiterint acuto. overlapping 1 Dark tress'd, chaste, dimpled Sappho ! 0 2

196 TĀLA

where the masculine element, as it were (in the Sapphic - v - -, in the Alcaic - - v - -), balances the feminine (in the Sapphic one dactyl, in the Alcaic two). The caesura, shown in the Sapphic by the dotted line, and coinciding with the other division in the Alcaic, is at the corresponding place after the fifth syllable in the true Sanskrit form of Upendrarajra,

and it is this clash between the formal and the free manner of reading it that gives it much of its charm. Meanwhile, Indians themselves scan the lines on a different plan. They have a useful memoria technica :

Yă-mā-tā-rā-jă-bhā-nă-să-lă-gām. Taking these syllables in threes they arrive at names for all feet of three syllables composed of longs and shorts :

Yămātā bacchic. Mātārā molossus. Tārājă antibacchic. Rājăbhā cretic. Jăbhānă amphibrach. Bhānăsă dactyl. Năsălă tribrach. Sălăgām anapaest.

The first syllable of each word is all that is generally used. The last two syllables of the line (not necessary for that purpose) repre- sent the words laghu (short) and guru (long). Accordingly four more feet of two syllables can be named :

Lălă Lăgā pyrrhic. iambus. Gālă trochee. Gāgā spondee. and the line Nă-hēn năbhō-māndălă, vārīrāśī, is scanned Jăbhānă, Tārājă, Jăbhānă, Gāgā. or, for short, jatajagau 1

1 Gau is the dual of ga. There is a similar memoria technica for the 24 = 16 varieties of four-syllable feet, - - -, - - - -, &c., used in the sloka and else- where.

TĀLA 197

There are many dozens of metres with fixed length of syllable like Upendravajra. Here are two or three more which are in common use :

Vasanta-tilaka. 14 syllables. Caesura not given. (ta-bha-ja-ja-gala) V- Ha chandra ma ugavalā gaganā pradīpa A - he - ta shukta, guru, mangala jya samipa Tya cha prakāśa bharata gagano daranta To andha kara lapala giriga - bharanta. (Cp. Ex. 280.)

Śikharinī. 17 syllables. (ya-ma-na-sa-bha-laga)

,- Bhalyacya sangenen avaguna ase toguna dise Khalyacya sangenen suguna tari to lopata ase Jaseņ khareņ pani piuni ganateņ goda kariti Phani dugdha teņci : piuni garala teņci vamati.

Metre, Sikhariņī.

1 A good man's our firm friend, 2 A bad man's our false friend, 3 For so clouds drink salt brine 4 And so snakes drink sweet milk, 1C 1 and ev - 'ry lit - tle fault soon will be for - got; 2 and ev 'ry bud - ding vir - tue will droop and die. 3 from ev - 'ry lit - tle wave - crest, and make it sweet; 4 and ev - 'ry drop be - comes poi - son at the last.

Rāg Bhūp. Tal Tevra. (3+2+2.) Ex Ay 306.

Bha-lyā - chyā san - gā neṋ a -va-gu-na a - se to

gu-ņa di se. Kha-lā chyā san - gā . nen

su-gu - na ta - ri t 10 - pa-ta a - se . .

Ja - sen khā-reņ pā ņī . . pi - u - ni gha-na-teņ go - - .

198 TĀLA

da ka-ri - tī. Pha-nī du - gdhā - ten - hĩ.

. pi - u - ni ga-ra - lā - ten . . chi va-ma - tĩ. .

Śārdula-vikrīdita. 19 syllables.

Dolyanniņ baghatoņ dhvani parisatoņ - kaniņ padoņ calatoņ Jivheneņ rasa chakatoņ madhura hi vace amhi bolatoņ Ha taņniņ bahusala kama karitoņ viśranti hi dhyāvaya Gheton jhompa sukheņ phiromi uthatoņ hi iśvara cadaya.

Metre, Sārdula-vikrīdita. - 1. Dõ - lyan - nin ba - gha - ton dhva - ni pa - ri - sa - ton Sweet these sounds in our ears, and sweet the ma - ny sights

• 1 1. ka - niņ pa - doņ ca la ton that greet our eyes voy - a - ging. Ex. 807. (Cp. Exs. 226, 253, 254.)

1 & 2

Do - lyān nīn ba-gha-tōn dhva-nī Hã tān pa - ri-sa - nīn ba -hu-sā - la kā - ma ka- ri -

Sweet these sounds in our ears, and sweet the ma-ny

2

Sweet these u ses . . of hands and feet and ev'-ry

1 & 2.

ton kā nin pa - dōn chã la - tōn vi . shran - ti hī dhyā va -

sights that greet our eyes voy

2

limb, and sweet to lie . . . . . . down to

TĀLA 199

3

1 & 2.

tōṋ Jī - vhe nen yã Ghẽ - tön jhôm

l.

a-ging; Sweet this taste on the

rest . Al these gifts are our 0 O . .

1 & 2.

ra - sa chā - ka ton ma-dhu-ra - hĩ - pa su-khēņ phi - ro mi u-tha toi

tongue, and sweet the rea-dy power .

own, and His who in our souls, dwells

1 & 2.

vã ch am - hĩ bo la - tôn. hĩ va - rã - chā da - yā.

of SO ci-able col lo - quy

im ma-nent, life giv - ing.

The characteristic of the other great class of Sanskrit metres, those measured by time-unit (mātrāvrtta), lies in the principle of equivalence, that is, in the fact which we are familiar with in the hexameter, that two shorts take the time of one long. Mātrā means instant, or unit; what the Greeks called ' Chronos protos',

200 TĀLA

the 'first' or smallest 'duration' from which you start reckoning. Each foot contains four mātras, and its prosodial possibilitics are : Proceleusmaticus Amphibrach Dactyl Anapaest Spondee -

The general effect of the Arya, which is the typical metre of this class, is much that of hexameters or elegiacs, though the details are very different. Poetry, then, bases the verse on the unit of (1) the syllable (aksara1), less or more fixed, and (2) the time-length (mātra) treated as the basis of equivalent combinations. Music similarly has two clearly defined stages, when time was reckoned (1) by aksara and (2) by mātrā. Reckoning by aksara, that is, by the number of notes in a period (parran). The parvan, as we shall see in the chapter on the Sāman chant, is the amount that can be conveniently sung in a breath, and the aksaras which fill it are there of two kinds-long (dīrgha) and short (hrasva)-and occasionally the long note is intensified or lengthened, or both of these, in which case it is called vrddhā (increased). Secular music similarly starts from a long (guru) and a short (laghu) note, and adds on one side the prolate note (pluta) and on the other the quick note (druta, from dru, to run). The laghu is then taken as the unit (mātra), and the four notes have relative value, thus : Druta z mātrā o

1 Laghu 1 mātrā

S Guru 2 mātrās Pluta 3 mātrās

To these is added the rest (virama), which is the equivalent of the druta,2 and is marked thus: 6, and f. It does not occur with the guru (s) or the pluta (3 ).

1 Lit. 'imperishable', in the sense perhaps of the 'irreducible minimum'; Sanskrit syllables are, of course, one consonant (simple or compound) plus one vowel (simple or diphthong). Cf. Aristot. Met. xiii. 1. 7, p. 1087 b, Basis hē syllabē. Aristoxenus knows nothing of the syllable as a unit of rhythm. 2 Day says that its value was not definitely stated by his authority. It seems

TĀLA 201

The Ratnākara gives 120 examples of such periods as may be formed by combinations of these four values, varying in length from one note to nineteen notes. Another authority gives 108. It is clear that this list is not meant to be exhaustive, for it does not reach a millionth part of the possibilities; and it is also clear that the four measurements of music (or five including the virama) cannot directly represent the two dimensions (long and short) of poetry. So that not all of these can represent poetical metres (though some may) and that for others there must be some other explanation. A list of forty-two specimens is given in Day; but as that book is now scarce a few typical ones taken at haphazard are given here :

No. of syllables Name. Indian and European notations. or notes.

1 Ekatālī

3 Pratāp L

5 Rangapradīpakaļ S

10 Layah

19 Miśravarnaḥ

(An instance of Ì is not included here because its value is not certain.) The names do not help us. They are often merely picturesque appellations. Where they have a recognizable meaning it is some- times refuted by the accompanying signs; thus Jhampa tāla and Marnt tāla both occur, but the signs show them to be quite different from the modern Tals of those names. Possibly the explanation, but it can only be a guess, may be that the longer tälas represent the rhythm of good recitation of well-known verses or mantras. It is clear that in our own poetry, for instance, longs and shorts do not represent to be defined in the Ratnākara where (adhy. 5 sl. 258) ' a druta followed by a rest is a detached mātra' (i. e. laghu); though if this can be held to imply that the laghu followed by a rest is a detached guru the value of the rest is relative to that of the note which it follows.

202 TĀLA

all the distinctions we make in good reading. When we read aloud : 1. Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit 2. Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 3. Brought death into the world and all our woes 4. With loss of Eden, till one greater man 5. Restore us and regain the blissful seats, 6. Sing heavenly Muse. our voice travels somewhat as follows :

and such clusters of notes have a sort of family resemblance to those we are discussing. This may account for the longer groups given in our list, but not for the short ones; it may account for layah, for instance, which is much like the cadence of a Saman (or of one of our mediaeval hymns), but not for ekatālī. We will examine some of these shorter ones. The first five in the list given in the Ratnākara, and these alone, are named by the first five ordinal numbers-Adi, dvitīyah, trtīyah, caturthah, pañcamah-just as the notes of the Säman chant were named prathamah, dvitiyah, trtīyah, caturthah. It is possible that they were felt to represent more fundamental distinctions than those talas which have what we may call a fancy name. They are :

Name. Indian symbol. European symbol.

āditālaļ

1 dvitīya 1 tṛtīya

1 caturthaḥ

pañcamaḥ

1 These are given differently by Day. But the Ratnākara is a good authority, and there is no doubt as to the meaning of the text.

TĀLA 203

If the explanation of the longer groups as typical examples of recitation was correct, the time-values of the several notes may well have been somewhat indefinite; we do not feel in the example from Milton that the musical notes present our style of reading more than approximately, nor that we should invariably read it so. In reciting a whole sentence the structure of one word reacts imperceptibly on the pronunciation of the next and interferes with the time-value. But these short groups cannot be sentences; they can at most be single words, and there is every probability that they represent exact time-values. And in passing from those to these we may be passing from the Cola, Commata, Membra, Incisiones, Distinctiones, &c., of the tenth century in Europe to the Modi, Proprietates, Perfectiones, and so forth of the fourteenth- from music which regulated its time-values by the words, to music which evolved its own values. What makes these five groups interesting is that they offer a connecting link between the prosodial feet given on p. 196 (ya-ma- ta-ra, &c.) and some of the fundamental principles of Indian musical time. In the second, third, and fourth of them we have all the eight three-syllable feet. Dvitiyah represents, according to the note you begin upon, three of them, v u -, u - u, - uu; trtiyah two more, v v v and - - -; and cuturthah the remaining three, - - v, - v -, and v Puñcamah similarly represents u vand - -; and, according as one or other note is dwelt upon, v - or - also. That this is the true view is made more likely by the position of pancamah after the others; for the two-syllable feet follow the three-syllable in the memoria technica. Aditālah is placed first, as much as to say ' this laghu (crotchet) you are to take as your unit (matra) throughout the list'. We see also the genesis of the rest ('): for, stress-accent being foreign to this versification, there would, without it, be nothing in a series of trtiyahs to mark that they were to be taken in sets of three. This is borne out also by the comparative rarity of genuine Hindu songs which are in three time (it is commoner with Mohammedan); what we should call g and g are not unknown, but they are not favourite rhythms. But caturthah introduces us suddenly to a five rhythm, instead of, as we should have expected, a three rhythm. It is interesting to see how this comes about. Since the earliest, and by far the most prevalent metre is the śloka, which primarily counted the

204 TĀLA

syllables and only secondarily weighed them also, the number of syllables in a unity of any sort came to have a greater importance than we should naturally have attached to it. Hence, when only three syllables were taken together (leaving aside v u v and - - - which we have already disposed of), the trisyllabic forms - v u and - - v, for instance (of four and five mātrās), seemed to be more nearly related to each other than the trisyllabic - v v and disyllabic - - (each of four mātrās). Similarly, it being possible to proceed from - v v (four mātrās) to - - (five mātrās) or to - v (three mātrās), the former step which kept the number of syllables seemed more natural than the latter which changed it. This may give a hint as to the hitherto unexplained delight of the Greeks in five rhythm ; but it would be going too far to assert that it is the origin of five rhythm in general; for this appears quite independently in places as remote, in more than a geographical sense, as Finland and the Malay Archipelago, and others. Reckoning by mātra, that is, by the time unit and its multiples, or the principle of ' equivalence', launches us into the domain of III. MUSICAL TIME. The simplest unity after the solitary beat (āditālaḥ) is, as we saw, dvitīyah (0 v -, v - v, - v). This gives us the three ordinary distributions of the longs and shorts (crotchets and quavers) within the four-unit foot (beat), a certain number of which, generally four, make up the bar (ävard) or section of common time. The name Ādi is used for common time (transferred from the solitary beat). Further development within the beat takes place by resolving any long or short into any one of these feet. Thus:

and similarly with

and

So that such a combination of notes as 1 2 3

TĀLA 205

the look of which frightens us and the sound of which does not particularly appeal to us, appears to an Indian as quite an ordinary distribution of his accepted metrical units

in an avard1 of Ādi tāla. In fact, the main difficulty of realizing and enjoying the nice distinctions of Indian rhythm is that we have not acquired the habit of resolving mentally every unit into any distribution of its constituent elements so that we could sing them at a moment's notice or that they would instantly appeal to us when we heard them sung. Here are some instances of Ādi :

Tāla Ādi. Rāg Jhinjoti. (1) Ex. 308

&c.

(2) Rāg Dhīrasankarābharaņa.

Ma - ri - yã da gā - du-rā

Ma - ri - yā da ga du-rā

&c.

Ma - ri - ya da gā -

This word is translated by 'bar' or 'section' as the context seems to require : its literal meaning is 'enclosure'. The smaller unit, or bar or half-bar, is a vibhāg (lit. division). Sanskrit, āvarta and vibhāga.

206 TĀLA

(3) Rāg Dhīraśankarābharaņa.

&c.

Do-ru-ku-na yi-tu vaņ - ti śe va Do-ru-ku- na

(4) st. 2nd.

O Ran-ga śā - yi . . śā - yi . .

Tālam Ādi. This Rāgam has E and A omitted in descent. (5) 0 = 72. Vivace.

Nin nē bha - ja - na

se yű . . vā da - nu Nin nē

. bha-ja - na se yu .

vā da-nu Nin nē · bha-ja - .

• na But the section (ävard) need not synchronize with the bar (vibhag); it may begin in the middle of the ribhag, though, as with us, it seldom does. A more usual place for it to begin is on the last unit of the four. This kind is called Desadi (foreign Adi) :

Deśādi Tālam. (1) Ex. 309.

De - va - di De - va sa - dā - śi - va De - vā - di

-&c.

De . va sa-dā - śi - va .. di - na - na - tha su - dhã

(2)

4

Che - ra - rā va - de . mi - rā Rā - ma - yya che . .

TĀLA 207

2nd half.

ra - rā va - de . mi - rã Me - ra -ga - du - ra i - ka ma

&c

hã . Me - ra-gā du - ra

Or it may begin on the second unit of the four, and is then called Madhyādi (middle' Ādi). As the Avard of Desadi beginning on the fourth unit ended on the third, so here beginning on the second it will end on the first :

Madhyādi Tālam. (1) Ex. 310. =

Vi-du - la -ku mrok-ke-da vi - du -la-ku mrok - ke-da .

vi-du - la-ku mrok - ke-da

Ka - li - na - ru - la - ku ma - lu ma - lu de - li

pe . mi Ka-li - na-ru .

En na - du zū - tu no in - ku - la

&c

ti - la - ka En - na-du

These are South Indian names; the things are common enough in Hindostani song and probably have specific names, though I was unable to make sure of them. A different interest attaches to the trtiyah, . This is also common time. But this peculiar form has left its mark, not in any special metrical form, but in the way a bar of common time is counted, in whatever metre. A short explanation is necessary first.

208 TĀLA

When three notes of neighbouring pitch and no more are sung without any particular emphasis on any one of them, the voice tends of itself to emphasize and the musical consciousness to give pre-eminence to the middle one. Thus in the scale of the Andaman islands, which (in some parts at least) consists only of three notes separated by some very small interval, it is recorded that the middle note is made the tonic. Again, in the snake-charmer's pipe (see Ex. 274) the middle note of three is made the drone. Similarly, if three equal units of time are repeated and an accent is put on one of them, it will gradually determine to the middle one of the three : cv,uéu(or, if the commas between them represent rests : 24 It is difficult to prove this, because it is so hard to make the experi- ment fairly. But, for some reason best known to the builders, the wheels of railway carriages commonly beat out a tripleted rhythm, and the reader may have noticed that if he is not particularly attending to them (and so making the experiment a fair one) these take the form o u, and not & o o nor o C. However that may be, here is Indian verse on the one hand employing three equal syllables in succession followed by a rest 1, and Indian music on the other counting a bar of common time with three equal beats (tāl) and a blank, or empty (khālī) beat; and the curious fact that this blank beat comes invariably on the third of the bar which gives the exact effect of prosodical feet: | v 'v'| v <'|1 Common time is, accordingly, called in the North invariably ' three- beat' (tintal), the fourth beat being 'empty'. The first of the bar, which bears the musical accent, is called sam2 ('complete', or 'total'), because at that point the two independent rhythms of

1 Cp. the first four bars of Tristan, of which the main accent is on the second bar and the fourth is blank. 2 Pronounced like, and accidentally having the same meaning as, our word 'sum'. It is important to be clear about this conception. The sam has no such stress as we place on the first of the bar. It gets its pre-eminence over the other täls (beats) owing to the cross-rhythm (either with some other instrument or in the melody itself) being adjusted at that point. Or if there is no cross-rhythm, still the sam is pointed out by its distance from some typical or recurrent phraso elsewhere in the ävard (or vibhäg); as the quaver triplet of Tschaikowsky's Scherzo tells us how far we have got each time in the series of crotchets. It is true that when singer and drummer coincide at that point their united triumph at having got it right after all does result in a little more tone, i.e. in stress, but this in no way necessary to the rhythm of the music.

TÄLA 209

singer and drummer from time to time coincide. Time is ordinarily beaten with the hand upon the thigh (the singer is invariably seated), emphasizing the sam slightly, and beating in the air with upturned palm for the khali. This method of beating is also applied to other times besides common time in a way which will appear presently. These other times, various forms of three, five, and seven rhythm for the most part, are often regarded as intricate and unaccountable ; but in the light of prosody they have a simple explanation. They are best summarized in the Carnatic system, which enumerates thirty-five different kinds as typical; but the principle which underlies them is of indefinite application, and as a fact I saw a book at Bhavnagar which enumerated some hundreds of them. It will be unnecessary to give the names of these thirty-five rhythms, because their names are only a piece of memoria technica,1 or the picturesque ruins of titles whose meaning is long forgotten, and would only confuse us. It will be enough to arrange them in seven ranks and five files, lettering the ranks and numbering the files. Counting by mātrā (Carnatic). I. II. III. IV. V.

Eka. A. 3 5 7 9

B. Rūpaka. 3 2 4 2 5 2 7 2 9 2

Jhampa. C. 31 2 4 1 2 51 2 71 2 91 2

D. Triputa. (Ādi). 3 22 4 22 522 722 9 22

Mātya. E. 323 4 2 4 5 2 5 72 7 9 2 9

Dhruva. F 3233 4 2 44 5255 7277 9 2 99

Ata. G. 3322 44 22 5522 7722 99 22

N.B .- Rank A is usually given in the order 4, 3, 7, 5, 9; the point being that 4 and 3 make 7, and 4 and 5 make 9 (9 is never treated as 3×3). 6, 8, and 10 are obviously omitted as being multiples of three numbers which are already there, and 9 is, as we saw, not considered to be a multiple. Those in heavy type are in common use. The names refer to the whole rank (Eka, for instance, to the whole of rank A, Triputa to D, &c.), but are confined in practice to those files to which they are here assigned. 1 See Mudaliar's Oriental Music, p. 25.

1495 P

210 TĀLA

In rank A are the different values (in mātras) given to the bar (vibhäg) when it is counted as a complete whole, that is, when it is not composed of various beats (tal).1 This merry little tune is an instance of the five-unit bar. Four bars make a section, as usual :

Khaņdajātī Laghu. Rāgam Mohāna (=Rāg Bhūpkaliān). J=96. Ex. 311.

&c

A common way of counting the uneven numbers is by continuous syncopation :

3 J &c. L

5 &c.

7 J &c.

The name of this is Chapu Tala. File V is rarely used.

Rank B has two beats to the bar, C, D, and E three beats, and F and G four. It is not difficult to see in these the two, three, and four-syllable feet of poetry. B gives various forms of the trochee (- v) and iamb (v-), according to the beat with which the rhythm begins. The five files allow for different proportions between the long and the short beat. We may arrange the ten possibilities of iambs and trochees in a graduated proportion to a scale of 100, and it will be seen that a large number of ways of dividing a bar into two beats has been reached by very simple means :

1 In this chapter Tāl is used for 'time' and tāl for 'beat'.

TĀLA 211

RANK B. 0 10 30 40 01 20 50 60 70 80 90 100 -

V 2 18 9

IV 2 22 7

iambs III 2 28 2

II 2 33 4

2 I 40 3

I 3 60 2

II 4 66 2

trochees - III 5 72 2

IV 78 2

V 9 82 2

We see from this diagram that just as the scales took account of srutis of different sizes, so here the rhythms take account of different sized units (mātrā) and embody them in a system ; and it is charac- teristic of Hindu practice to tabulate ten species of a thing and to make practical use only of one of them. The other ranks may be taken in the same way, and these thirty-five are seen to include by implication one hundred varieties of Tāl:

ABCDE F G 5+10+15+15+15+20+20 = 100

To continue: C and D give five varieties of dactyl, amphibrach, and anapaest (- vv, u-v,v-). D. II is the normal dactyl, &c .; the rest of D lessens or increases the proportion of the long to the two shorts. C is our old friend the 'cyclical' dactyl1 which modern theory has criticized out of existence, for Greece at any rate, but which made a considerable stir in its day. Here at any rate it has five separate values of its own. E gives the cretic (- v-), bacchic (- -), and antibacchic (- - v). Of the four-syllable feet (four beats in the bar-F and G) there are sixteen possibilities (for two things taken four together). Only eight appear here. Thus: F. I gives 3 2 3 3, and implies 2 3 3 3, 3332, and 33 2 3. G. I, similarly, four more.

1 The cyclical dactyl is one in which the middle syllable is shorter than the lạst. P 2

212 TĀLA

The other possibilities are : 2223 2232 2322 > rare in the śloka. 3222 2323 3232 C. IV is used if wanted.

3333 2222 already accounted for by āditālah.

So that ranks F and G fairly represent the chief possibilities of the śloka. But it will be more interesting to see how the most characteristic of these work out in practice. We will take: B. II. 2+4 Rūpaka (iamb). D. I. 3+2+2 Triputa (dactyl). C. IV. 7+1+2 Jhampa (cyclical dactyl). and as a curiosity G. III. 5+5+2+2 Ața (ionicus a majore). Rūpaka Tālam. (2+4.) (1) Ex. 312.

Vi-na-ve 0 ma-na-sā vi - na -ve 0 ma-na - sa

&c.

vi - va - ram-bu - ga ne . del pe da vi -va-ram - bu - ga '2)

A - la-ka - lā - lla lā - da ga-ga - ni A - la - ka - lā . lla

&c.

lā - da-ga - ga-ni A - la - ka - lā . lla lā -

(3)

Su - gu - na-mu-le - jep-pu koņ - ți sun - da-ra ra-ghu

&c.

Rā - ma Su - gu - .

TALA 213

Rūpaka is in idea Saraband rhythm. It is quite one of the com- monest Tāls, and presents no difficulty, as, in practice, it is a simple 2. Triputa is harder. The secret of all these Tals is that the units are taken as sums, not multiples. And though seven is not a multiple of anything, yet the European having counted three, finds it very difficult not to expect another three. The only way is to take a fresh lease of counting with each beat. It will be found quite easy to realize all these Tals if one does as a native does-count out each beat 1, 2, 3, &c., and tap at every '1'.

Tripuța Tālam. (3+2+2.) (Telugu words.) Adagio. =100. tr Ex. 313. - -8:

En - du - ku da - ya - rã du - rá śri

tr tr tr

rā - ma-chan-dra nī - ken-du . . ku da - ya rā du-

ra . rā - ma - chan - dra nī ken -du ku

da ya . ră du - ra

Jhampa Tālam. The 'bar' (Avard) is from one double bar line to the next. The single bar lines show the beats. Though it is counted 7+1+2, it is thought as 2+3+2+3 quavers.

Andante. =144

Ex. 314 2

Am - ma rā vam - ma Am -ma rā vam - ma

Am - ma ra vam - ma Am - ma rā vam - ma tu - la -

sam - ma na-nu pā lim - pa - ram-ma sa - ta - ta - mu pa - da-mu

. . . nam - mi - na nam - ma rā vam ma.

214 TALA

Āta Tāla. 5+5+2+2. (The Rag omits E and A in ascent). Molto vivace. J = 160.

Ex. 315. I. II 1 2 3 4 5 1 2

Antara.

&c.

Āța is one of the more difficult rhythms. This particular example seems to us almost impossible. We lose our bearings in the course of fourteen crotchets divided into semiquavers, especially at such a tempo as this, and with all sorts of cross-rhythms in the 'bowing'. The slurs really represent the syllables of words; and this tune is actually sung, and sounds very puzzling but very interesting. The Avard is divided into four groups (marked I, II, III, IV), and the phrase, which is the same length as the Avard but does not coincide with it, begins and ends at the third beat of the first group. (Mind the flat !) Later on in the Svaras of this song another sort of rhythm is in- duced upon this. Every second crotchet of the melody ends on the note Sa, which occurs in the words at the same moment. This would have the effect of combining

Triputa 1 3T 1 2

Āța 12345 12345 12 12

But the last two Sa's come one unit late. The original tune began, we saw, on the third beat, and the Svaras begin on the first beat; as there is a Da Capo at the end of them back to the tune, there will be two beats to make up; and this is the ingenious and effective way in which it is done.

TĀLA 215

III IV. 4 5 1 2 1 2

N.B .- The slurs represent the syllables of the words. The avard finishes at the end of each line. The phrase begins on the third of the fourteen beats.

Svaras (patter words). I. 1 2 3 4 5 Ex. 316.

A - lu - ka - va la - du-sa ma-ja -ga - ma-na-ku - sa ti - la ta-ga I. 1 2 3 4 5

la - du - sa ra - sa - śa - ru - du - nu - sa ha - sa - mu -na - su - ma - sa III. 2 IV. 1 2 I. D.C.

ya-ka mu-lu ha-ra-pa-ga - sa ra- sā - kshi be - da ri-na-di-ra-sa mi-ga

The Hindostani Tals are very much the same in practice as those of the Carnatic. The usage in different parts of Hindostan varies a good deal, as it does with the Rägs, and it is difficult to be at all sure of more than the commonest. But as these are remark- ably like those described as the commonest in the Carnatic, there is little doubt that the underlying idea is the same in both-the poetical metre. The following table gives them as corresponding to the Carnatic list :

216 TĀLA

Counting by mātrā (Hindostan).

I. II. III IV V.

2 4 3 4 [Madhyamāvati]

A. Ekka Ektāl S 2 34 [Matta] 4 2 3 [Khațț tāl]

2 3 2 4 B. [Rūpak] Rūpak

2323 C. Jhampa or Jāp

32 2 4 2 2

D. Tevra Titāla Tīntāl Tritala

2 4 4) 4 2 4 E. Surphakta Sulaphakata Mant

4 2 4 4)

F 2 4 4 4 ( Āda-chautāla

3322 4 4 2 2 5522

G [Jhampa] Chautāla Dhamār 2 2 4 4 [Farodast]

Amongst these the only Tal which is commoner than in the Carnatic is G. II Chautāla (i.e. Char-tāla, 'four-beat'). It is used especially for Dhrupads (see Chapter XI). The three names of Titāla (D. II) all mean ' three-beat'. Some of the other names are descriptive-Jhampa, 'jumping'; Surphakta, 'zigzag'; Ada-chautāla, ' crooked four-beat'; Dhamar (for dha-matra), having a high number of time-units'. But there is one Tal peculiar to Hindostan which entered it apparently with the Mohammedans-Dadra, 6. It is the only rhythm which is treated as a multiple (and therefore cannot be Hindu), and it is in very common use. Most of these Tals which give the rhythm of one bar (vibhag) can be taken in pairs of vibhags, and are then counted as one bar of common time (Tintāl), thus :

TĀLA 217

3+2+2 3+2+21 two bars of Tevra | J. counted 1 2 0 3 like Tīntāl. Or even a single Tal is so counted : 2+3+2+3 Jhampa counted 1 2 0 3

Surphakta, however, has two blank beats (khālī) : 4+2+4 Surphakta counted 1 0 2 3 0 and Chautāla has four beats (tāl) and two blanks (khālī) : 4 + 4 + 2+2 - Chautāla counted 1 0 2 0 3 4 Ada-chautāla, again, four beats and three blanks : 2 + 4 + 4 + 4 Ada-chautāla counted 1 2 0 3 0 4 0

Indian rhythm, then, moves in ävards broken up into vibhāgs, each of which contains one or more tals.1 We can equally say of ours that it moves in sections broken up into bars each of which contains one or more beats. In what does the difference between the two systems consist ? It may be answered that theirs is derived from song, ours from the dance or the march. That both are based on the numbers 2 and 3, but that they add and we multiply in order to form com- binations of these. But the answer which goes deepest is that their music is in modes of time (as we saw also that it was in modes of tune), and that ours changes that mode at will by means princi- pally of the harmony. In order that rhythm, an articulation of the infinite variety of sounds, may be upon some regular plan, the plan must have some recognizable unit of measurement. India takes the short note and gives it for a particular rhythm a certain value as opposed to the

1 It is unfortunate that the word is also used in the sense of vibhāg to mean the 'time' of the music.

218 TĀLA

long; Europe takes the stressed note and gives it in a particular rhythm a certain frequency as against the unstressed, and graduates its force. We find the unity of the rhythm in the recurrent bar (which is always in duple or triple time, just as our two melodic modes are either major or minor), and have to look elsewhere for the variety; they find variety in the vibhāg whose constitution is, as we have seen, extremely various, and must look elsewhere for unity. Both of us find what we want in the larger spaces of time; they find unity in the avard, we find variety in the sections. The avard is a constant. In slow time there may be only two vibhags in it, in quick time there will certainly be four. And this series of four is unbroken, except at the end of the verse or the song, that is, where the singer breaks off temporarily or altogether. We can see why this must be so. Suppose the song is in Rūpak J |, &c.). Unless there were some accepted number of vibhägs to the ävard it would be impossible to know that the music was not in the larger ävard (i. e. in fewer vibhāgs) of Tevra ( J , &c.) or of Jhampa (. J. J |, &c.).

Rūpak (one āvard). Ex. 317.

Jhampa (} arard).

Tevra (§ avard).

If the length of the avard were not certain, the rhythmical 'mode', which has a connotation of its own just as the melodic 'mode' has, would not be clear, and all cross-rhythm, a corner-stone of this music, would become impossible; for this presupposes a constant against which something else is inconstant. The 'section' in Europe is often, too often, also of four bars; it is this fact that makes much of our church services musically un- attractive. But the section can have, and in the best music it has, a varying number of bars. Its length is altered, either really or apparently; it is either actually shortened or lengthened, or else

TĀLA 219

two equal sections are made to overlap so that one seems shorter than the other. Any work on large lines will supply examples of this ; here, for instance, in the passage for flute and bassoon out of Leonora, No. 3:

Ex. 818. FL Passage begins.

2 4

Bn.

Bn.

FI.

& c. Overlap ; bas-

3-bar seetion. FI.

soon scale suppressed.

4 3-bar section.

Overlap ; last bar of previous flute

phrase suppressed.

220 TĀLA

4 42

Str.

&c.

Passage ends in which the sections are twice shortened from four bars to two, and the phrases twice overlap so as to produce the effect of two three-bar sections. It would be clearer if our music were printed as Handel wrote (though not consistently) his Messiah, with bar- lines running all through the staves at each new section, and between these places only through the single staves; it would have the effect which punctuation has upon the written word (and would be as difficult to get right). An instance of the judgement he exercised in this matter may be seen in the two versions, given in the auto- graph score, of the opening symphony of ' But who may abide'. There is one case, however, which puts the thing in a nutshell. In 1893, when 5 rhythm was less familiar to Europe than it now is, Tschaikowsky felt it necessary in his Sixth Symphony to do two things. He kept the metre free from complications; the Scherzo is almost entirely based on the crotchet, and the Trio on the minim. He also kept the sections uniform; they are in four-bar rhythm throughout except in two places-at the return from the Trio to the Scherzo, and at the Coda-the very places in which, as we saw, liberty was allowed in the avard. It was only there, in fact, that he felt his rhythm so securely established that he could play with it. But now that it no longer piques our curiosity to see how § is ' beaten', and that the problem of counting it accurately no longer provides us with a painful pleasure, the monotony of the sections comes back upon us with fatal force. But the four-bar section would not have this effeet if, like the Hindus, we had a large assortment of variously characterized rhythms to fill it. It is harmony which puts it in our power to prevent this fre- quently changing length of the phrase or section from upsetting the unity of the rhythm. In this Adagio from Haydn's First Quartet :

TĀLA 221

Adagio. a b d

Ex. 319. &c.

the phrases are made to stand out from each other by means of the harmony : a and d taper towards the end, c steals in unawares, and b contrasts firmly with its neighbours a and c; and that such insistence upon the rhythm was necessary is shown by the base form into which the melody has relapsed by the constant use which has ignored it. In the Menuetto which follows it :

Menuetto. 5 1 2 3 4 6 Ex. 820.

4

8 9 10 11 12

2 2 1 2

the harmonies by their postponement to the second bar clearly mark the beginning of a section there, and tell us that the phrase of the first bar is to be regarded as extra sententiam. Then by entering at the normal place in the sixth bar they proclaim that that phrase is now taken into the sentence. They are not responsible for the assertion that bars 6, 7 and 8, 9 each make a section ; that is made clear by the balance of the phrases they contain-the phrase of 8, 9 is an inversion of that in 6, 7. But the harmonies again compel us to take bar 10 as a section all to itself, for they exactly repeat those of bar 9, only a place higher. This somewhat intricate arrangement of sections would be confusing but for the fact that they make up in all a period of twelve bars-that is, the time

222 TĀLA

length of three normal sections-and so their excessive variety is unified. Very similarly in Chopin's Sixth Nocturne a twelve-bar unity is reached by a different distribution :

2 3 4 7 Ex. 321.

1 2 4

8 9 11 12 A

&c.

2 2 1

and this is the work of the harmony, more especially of the tenor part :

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ex. 822. Preliminary. overlap with new phrase. But these two examples are the opening phrases of two several compositions where a certain clearness of balance is necessary and some gencral unity (here twelve bars) is indispensable: in the course of a composition (as we may conclude from Ex. 318) no such higher unity need be or is aimed at; the sections may be as various as the composer pleases. It is needless to give instances where the harmony graduates the stress of the rhythm, as every page of music is full of them. This is a distinction which Indian music is also fully alive to, as wc shall see in the next chapter. It is sometimes thought that these uneven times-5, 7, 10, 14, and so on-are full of suggestion for European composers. This on the whole may be doubted, because duration is not the same thing as stress. All these Indian rhythms have their raison d'étre in the contrast of long and short duration, and to identify these with much and little stress is to vulgarize the rhythms. The only

TĀLA 223

genuine instance we have of their method is Saraband rhythm, and we see instantly how in

Ex. 323. La - scia ch'io pian - ga mia cru - da sor - te

the effect is lost if the second minim in addition to being lengthened is also emphasized. Stress pulses, and demands regularity ; duration is complementary, and revels in irregularity. In order to get the true sense of duration we have to get rid of stress, and this would mean that we must find some other means (as the Hindus do) of marking the beginning of the bar than by accenting it. Tschai- kowsky's Scherzo and Trio do this. The Scherzo is in elongated trochees (7+3 instead of 6+3): 1

Ex. 824 10 4-4 &c.

instead of

Ex. 825. &c.

Both these phrases are characterized; the first by crotchets with an incidental triplet, the second by the dotted minim. This rhythm pervades the whole, although the units are afterwards slightly varied. The Trio is a truncated Saraband, and by its figuration appears as a contracted iamb (2+ 3 instead of 2+4) : 1

Ex. 326.

instead of

Ex. 327. The way the composer has defeated the stress is by a variety of devices; in the Scherzo by the cross-bowing, running quavers, and syncopation of the accompaniment, in the Trio by the crotchet drone bass. And if the conductor would now lay down his stick for this passage there would be nothing to distinguish it from Indian rhythm. But the fact remains that we feel these things as elongations and 1 The two movements (Exs. 324 and 326) correspond practically to C. IV (7+1+2) and B. I (2+3).

224 TĀLA

truncations of rhythms which are familiar to us, and they could hardly be naturalized. Perhaps this is why in his variations on a Hungarian air in 2 (Tevra) Brahms drops in the fourth variation into common time beginning on an off-beat, in the fifth and sixth into a beginning on an off-beat, in the seventh into overlapping phrases, and continues from the ninth onwards frankly in 2 and 6. Perhaps he felt that he could best explain the nature of this rhythm by showing that it was like all these things which we have, but was not the same as any one of them. But considered as forms of our rhythms gone mad they have a definite use, as, for instance, in Tristan's delirium (Act III, sc. ii), where fragments of melodies, his whole past in fact, come thronging disjointedly into his mind. Only these are not Indian rhythms. They are European rhythms distorted to suit the state of his bodily pulse; it is precisely the pulsation of them that is insisted upon. The modern use of these unusual rhythms is again different. The constant changes of time-some half dozen perhaps, 3, 8, 2, z, g, å, &c., occurring in not more than twice six bars-are part of the striving of the last twenty years after realism and away from formalism. Composers aim at substituting the rhetorical accent of prose for the metrical accent of verse, at imitating in instru- mental music the broken accents of the speaking voice. As such their music has nothing in common with the systems we have been discussing where metrical law prevails. They appear to defy law; and they are justified, but only by success in the particular instance. Thus, of two such instances, we may say that Cyril Scott's Sonata, Op. 66, is less convincing rhythmically than Stravinsky's Petrouchka. For the latter has large tracts of uniform time which enable the vagaries to be felt as contrast, whereas in the former there is no such contrast-because it is all contrast.

PLATE 11

'Tin'. The second finger rises as the first falls.

'Nan'. 'Ga'.

Nan . 'Ghe'. Ranganna, Mysore. P. 225

CHAPTER IX

DRUMMING

Monsieur le Grand knew only a little broken German, only the really important words-Bread, Kiss, Honour-but he could always make his meaning clear on the drum. If I wanted to know, for in- stance, what was meant by ' Liberté ' he would drum the Marseillaise -and I understood. If I did not know the meaning of ' Égalité' he would drum Ca ira, ça ira ... les aristocrats à la lanterne-and I understood him. If I did not know what 'bêtise' was he would drum the Dessau march-which we Germans, as Goethe records, used to drum in the Champagne-and I understood him. He wanted once to explain to me the word 'L'Allemagne', and he drummed that old, old tune, simplicity itself, the tune that you can hear on fair days outside the booth where the dancing dogs are-Dumb, dumb, dumb. It made me very angry, but I understood him .- HEINE.

THE drum is used not, as with us, to assert the accent at special moments, or to reinforce a crisis, but to articulate the metre of the singer's melody, or to add variety to it by means of a cross-metre. There are four main elements in drumming : the quality, the inten- sity, the pitch of the sounds, and the time-intervals between them. We do not, on the whole, use percussion much. When we do, we value it, perhaps, chiefly for the graduated intensity with which it points the rhythm. We look a little askance at varieties of quality ; we recognize the drums (grosse caisse or tympani), the cymbals, and the triangle; but we are not quite sure how far the tambourine, castanets, and Berlioz's flannel-headed drumsticks are legitimate music. Of the pitch we only demand that it should not clash with the pitch of other sounds, it is in no way a vital constituent of the harmony, which is almost invariably complete without it. The time-intervals of the drum-notes reinforce as a whole those of the other instruments; they seldom cross them, and only produce a certain amount of confusion when they do, which, however, may be a useful resource upon occasion. 1495

226 DRUMMING

In Hindu music the graduated intensity of the sound is very little regarded, either in singing or playing or drumming, because their whole scheme is not accentual, but quantitative. It is true that the first of the bar (the sam) is louder than the rest often, not always; but this is not in order that it may, as with us, stand out against other accents, but because two quantitative schemes are apt to coincide there, and two sounds are louder than one. The time-intervals are with them all-important, and show great variety ; it is seldom that more than a few bars, out of hundreds, are drummed in exactly the same way. And the drumming is practi- cally continuous; it is only oceasionally silenced for special contrast. The pitch, again, is all-important, for it is invariably the keynote, and frequently the drum is the singer's only aecompaniment. Lastly, a maximum of variety is got into the quality; and this not mainly by the variety of the instruments. For though there are scores of shapes for drums, tambourines, cymbals, triangles, and so forth, they are not usually assembled together, because concerted music is the exception, not the rule. The variety is got out of the drum, or the pair of drums themselves. They are played with the full hand and the fingers, rarely with stieks; there are half a dozen strokes for the right hand and three or four for the left. Of these Lady Wilson's 1 drummer said, ' The beat (with the left hand) is like the seam of my coat-that must be there; the other notes (with the right hand) are like the embroidery I may put according to my own fancy over the seam.' These ' notes' are differentiated not by pitch, but quality. They are also articulated by great intricacy of time-interval. For neither of these two things has our music any real analogues; and the Bengalis do not overstate the case in their saying ' Yantrapatir mrdanga' (the drum is the father of instruments). It is proposed now to examine Indian drumming under these two aspects : quality and metre.

TONE-QUALITY. Under a multitude of names there are two main types of drum. The mrdänga played at both ends with the hands (or if with sticks, called dhol); and the pair of drums, tabla, the right hand daina and the left hand bayan. Both kinds are tuned in the ordinary way by braces (diwal), between which and the wall of the drum (chattu) tuning blocks (gatta) are wedged. In the 1 A Short Account of the Hindu System of Music, by A. C. Wilson, 1904.

PLATE 12

'Ta'. ' Na' (borrowed from the right-hand strokes).

Both hands, 'Dha'; Ghe + Ghe.

'Ka' Bhai Santu, Amritsar.

P. 227

DRUMMING 227

mrdānga the driving in of these wedges sharpens both ends simul- taneously. When, as in the better class music, it is desired to have both drumheads (warka) in tune with each other, another device is adopted. A mixture of flour (ata) and water is worked on to the middle of the larger drumhead to lower the tone to the desired amount. The two heads are commonly tuned an octave apart. The plaster also adds to the resonance, and seems to be valued for that reason. It is therefore retained in the tabla, although it was not necessary here for the tuning, because each drum has only one head, and the braces do all that is wanted. On the mrdānga the plaster is fresh made whenever the drum is used ; on the tabla it is applied once for all, and has frequently been mixed with iron filings to add to the resonance, and is then black. It is called sīyahi (blackness) or ak (eye); the rim of the drum-wall over which the skin is passed is called kanar, and the drumhead, which is visible between that and the ak, is known as warka (lit. leaf of a book). On the left drum the 'eye' is in the middle; on the right it is eccentric, in the 'north-west' corner, lying under the tip of the forefinger.1 The different tone qualities are obtained by striking with the full hand, or the several fingers at different places, and by damping or releasing. They are distinguished by names (bol). The tabla are generally tuned in unison, occasionally at a Fifth from each other ; but there is no idea whatever of 'dominant-tonic' in this tuning. The alternation of sound between the two drums is incessant and instantaneous, so that the two notes merge; and they are ob- viously there for the same reason as they are upon the drone strings of the rina or tambura, only as an enrichment of the tone. The note of the drum is also altered by way of 'grace'. There is a special hour-glass-shaped drum, especially in South India, small enough to be held in the hand, which can then squeeze the braces and sharpen the note. On the tabla too there is a special stroke (called ghe) which can be made with either hand; after a blow from the full hand the ball of the thumb is slid forward across the drumhead. This raises the pitch slightly and produces a sound like a galosh leaving the mud, curious, and by no means unattractive. The mrdanga and dhol are respectively barrel-shaped and cylin- drical. The tabla, left and right, are of the shape of a giant tea-cup and coffee-cup respectively ; the left is tucked into the crook of 1 Sometimes the 'eye' of the right drum is called siyahi and that of the left āk. Q2

228 DRUMMING

the knee, the right is propped against a cloth. For the other varieties of percussion, any one who has not access to Captain Day's excellent illustrations may get a rough idea of them from the photograph opposite of some South Indian specimens. The kara- divadya, udukkai, and budubudike are three sizes of the same make, the smallest being squeezed in the hand, the longest under the arm. The karadivadya is beaten with a padded drumstick. Against it leans a kokkara, a metal tube with serrated edges, which are rubbed, to produce a grating sound, with the metal pin on a chain, which hangs down over the tambourine (kanjari) below it: it is used by pariahs, especially by the Pulaiyars of Travancore, for casting out devils. The goblet-shaped udupe is used by Lingayets in temple worship. Below are the nagari, seventeen inches in height and diameter, for use on an elephant and in the temple, with seventy turns of lacing : the maddale (mrdanga-shape) hollowed out of a tree, and the Mohammedan dolu (dhol) of copper. The dhol is played with hands or sticks; if open at one end, as occasionally, it is played with sticks at the other end. In a Panjabi regiment a drummer (Miranbaksh, see p. 237) was pointed out to me who sometimes wielded his sticks till his hands bled. Confining ourselves now to the tabla-the mrdanga is played in the same way-we will examine the different strokes (bols) given with either hand or both hands; singly, successively, or simul- taneously ; with one or more fingers or with the whole hand; upon the 'black', or the 'rim', or upon the 'white' between them; damped, or partly damped, or undamped. Indian fingers are extraordinarily supple. The forefinger, as pianoforte players know, is one of the weakest; but its stroke as it comes down flat with a whang on different parts of the drum is curiously powerful, and inimitable by Westerns. It is said to take half a lifetime to make a good drummer, and it will be seen in the following pages that there is much to learn. There is considerable difficulty, short of the only true way-by learning to drum oneself-in finding out what these strokes really are. Not only do both strokes and names vary in the North and the names differ entirely in the South, but the drummer regards his strokes as a synthesis, and is not accustomed to analyse them. Also if too many questions are asked, the victim begins at last in sheer desperation to say the first thing that comes into his head.

Udupe Udukkai

Udukkai Karadivādya

Budubūdike Tambourines Kokkara

P.228 PLATE 13

Xì

Tambourines

Maddale Nāgarī Dolu (From the collection in the Museum, Bangalore).

NANNE KHAN'S bols (BHAVNAGAR).

Bol Hand. Degree of complexity. Fingers. Part struck. Damping. Remarks.

ý 1st on rim

Ta Right Single others on white damped The normal right-hand stroke.

Na 1st rim released Gives a short, matter of fact sound, easily reeog- nizable.

Nan Ist rim 4th damps Gives the upper octave as overtone when the stroke dies away.

Tin 1st black 3rd damps Metallic. and releases

Ti or Tin 1st black released The 2nd and 3rd damp lightly. DRUMMING

Di 1st three black released Heavier than Ti, more resonant.

Ka Left whole hand black damped lightly The normal left-hand stroke.

Ga finger tips white released Struck lightly; dully resonant.

,9

Ghe whole hand whole moderately The ball of the thumb follows across the drum,

surface damped pressing and sharpening. This stroke is alse used by the right hand.

Ke whele hand whole completely The hand rests on the surface after striking.

surface damped

Titi Right Successive j 4th on black

1st on rim released = Ta + Ta. The 1st follows the 4th quickly.

Gidi Both = Ghe + Di.

Gina = Ghe + Na.

Dhã Simul- = Ghe + Ta, or Ghe + Ghe. The normal stroke for both

taneous hands. It eccurs generally at the 'sam', though not exclusively. 229

Dhi = Ga + Di.

Dhin, = Dhi + Na = Ga + Di + Na.

230 DRUMMING

Nor is much help to be got from the books; the author takes for granted that a thing which he sees and hears every day will be familiar to his reader, and accordingly omits to differentiate the strokes in words, and he does not always state their duration, which is of vital importance for the normal drum-phrases (theka) and their variants (parand) which we shall examine later. The list on p. 231 was obtained from the court drummer, Nanne Khan, at Bhavnagar (Gujarat), and is supplemented by statements of various others at Calcutta, Bombay, Allahabad, Lahore, Jhelum, and other places, and checked by the list in T. B. Sahasrabuddhe's book (in Marathi) and A. B. Pingle's Indian Music, the only full account of the matter in English. The list is not complete, although the most important bols are probably there. Those of the right hand begin with dentals, those of the left with gutturals,1 and those of both hands simultaneously with aspirated dentals. There are a variety of other 'successive' and 'simultaneous ' strokes. A few of the 'single' bols are shown in the photographs of two drummers (at Mysore and Lahore) facing pp. 225, 227.

TIME-INTERVAL. These drum-words (bol) are distributed in drum-phrases (theka), which constitute the drummer's memoria technica for the particular Tal, and in drum-variants (parand) 2; the former's duty is to 'keep up' the tal, the latter's to 'swell' it (Pingle). In the next diagram are exhibited thekas of tintal from different localities. The first six of these are genuine thekas : the alteration of d to t in the first thekas and the trikara in the sixth is intended to distinguish the blank (khali) section of the bar (marked 0) from the others. The eighth (from Jhelum) is an instance of four bars of Surphakta treated as one of Tintal. The seventh (from Calcutta) is of the nature of a parand, that is, the drumming of the various beats is contrasted. The six parands from Bombay are continuous. At the end of the fourth line, at ' ta ta ghinna' begins a new rhythm in three time, whicl comes to an end just as the singer, going on in four time, reaches his sam at the beginning of the seventh line. This is a simple instance of a thing which is often enormously complex, We use k and t for double tonguing on brass instruments similarly, because of their distinctness. 2 Pronounce 'pürrnd'.

Tintāl. The ordinary theka.

2 0 3

1 tin dhin

dha dhin dha tin ta lha dhin dha Lahore (Degambur).

ha dhin dhin dha dhin dha

dhi dhi na na dhi dhi na na dhỉ dhi n1a Jhelum.

na dhi dhi na na Gujarāt (Pingle).

na dhin dhin na na dhin dhin n1a na tin tin na na dhin dhin na

dhin na dhin na tin dhin Amritsar.

na dhin na dhin ta tin na na dhin na̱

ta dhin dhin ta dhin dhin tin ta Allahabad

na dha tin na dhin dhin na Pind Dadan Khan,

na dhi dhin na na dhi dhin na na trikara dhin 113 na dhi dhin Punjab.

dage tete kota gadi gene Calcutta.

det tage

det dene nag drege tete kete tag greden Compound time; 4 bars (vibhag) of 5 units (matra) to make one section (avard) of Tīntāl.

dhag dhag dhag Jhelum.

din dhag din dhag dhag din

dhag dhag din

1 Six parands.

dhikata dhatri gadi naga

dha trika ka dhikita dhage tita kiridha tita gina diga diga naga

1

3 3 dhikita dhan dha ta na dha ta dha gadigina ha

na krita dhagina dhage trika na

L

3 3

dhi ta gan dhit dhit krita dhita kri dhit ta dhit dhit dita tita giga tita

ta ghin

dhin krita dhikita ghin dhage ghitira kitataka ta ta na

giga dhin dhin Bombay.

0 ta dha

L

dhī ta kita tha kita tutu kitataka gadigina dha ta ghin na dhi kita

tntu kitataka gadigina dha kita dha tutu

kita ta ghin na dhi ta kita kitataka gadigina

dha trika dhikita dhatri (&c. as in the first line.)

3

232 DRUMMING

which is very common, and which gives great pleasure to an Indian audience, who invariably greet it with appreciative acchcha's ('good'), It is rare in our music, though instances are to be found, as of most things, in Bach; here, for instance, is one from the first movement of the Violin Concerto in E major : f Ex. 328.

&c.

in which the violin breaking into three bars of 2 arrives at the reprise of the theme simultaneously with the piano, which continues in common time. Another instance is the common Handelian close :

2 3 1 2 3 123

Ex. 329.

Sweet is plea-sure af ter pain

DRUMMING 233

which, though a still simpler device, is used for the same purpose of clinching the final note. (Cp. Int. Mus. Mouthly Journal, Oct. 1913, pp. 3-7.) What appear in the parands given above to be a number of new bols, are really those we have already met with subjected to phonetic decay. Thus (in alphabetical order) : dene = dhi + na det = dhi+ ta dhäg(e) = dhã+ ghe dhan = dhã + na dhikita = dhi+ka+ ta gadi = ga + di gidi = ghe + di gina = ghe + na ghitira = ghe + ti + ta greden = ghe+ta + dhi + na kiridha = ka + ti + dhã kṛita =ka+ ti + ta trika = ta + ti + ka trikara = ta+ti + ka + ta tutu ? The time-value of the stroke is not implied in its name, though the compound bols naturally take longer than the simple. These values have to be learned by watching and noting performance; and those given here have no more authority behind them than a few mornings devoted to that rather tedious occupation. But without inducing a climax, parands in a different rhythm are often introduced just for fun. The singer and drummer like to play hide and seek with each other; and the audience watch the contest with amusement. The drummer is worsted in the contest in the following (phonographed) passage :

Rāg Sārang. Tal Adachautāla. Phonogram. = 110. a tempo. rit. 3 Ex. 830

A -= 130.

234 DRUMMING

B J = 150

C

D

J = 170.

E

DRUMMING 235

= 220.

simile

= 230.

= 260. G Han

The last few notes are inaudible because the player took his reed out to utter the Han.

in Adachautāla,1 between shahnai (oboe) and tabla. They were asked to begin with four thekas and go on with parands. The section (avard) is marked off by the double bar. Down to the first double bar, however, is ad libitum. It is the Alap (prelude) with which the music always begins, in order to establish the Rāg, and it is not in strict time. But the drummer is trying over his Tāl too, and though he gets the same number of beats as the singer they did not, as a matter of fact, exactly synchronize. From A onwards it is in strict time, and after the four thekas, the parands begin at B. Here the drummer breaks into an eight-rhythm (instead of seven) for variety. The oboist also varies. His phrase should have ended at C, but it ends a bar before. He ends the

1 Properly one bar of 14 crotchets ; here given for convenience as two bars of 7.

236 DRUMMING

next one, however, correctly at D. Then he has a short one of two bars; and then, at = 170, a long one of six bars and an extra minim. At this point the pace becomes furious, and, shortening his phrase by that extra minim, he ends it up with Han (yes) at G. Meanwhile the drummer, about D, has dropped his cross-rhythm, and seems to be plotting something a little more interesting. When the oboist begins his six-bar phrase, the drummer varies the little figure with which he started at B; thus :

Ex. | =170.

E

The figure is dislocated to give a subsidiary cross rhythm.

which now becomes three-quaver rhythm : Ex. 332.

F

and so through an orgy of triplets, accented on the middle note, to the end. Whatever the reader may think of the melody, he will not deny the oboist a firm grip of a difficult rhythm. (His name was Panna, and he was said, incidentally, very likely with truth, to be the 'best Shahnai player in Hindostan'; the axis of the earth sticks up, however, in every city of India just as visibly as Heine said it did in Germany.) It is probably not accidental that the tempo ends up at = 260, exactly twice as fast as it began, and the phono- graph leaves no doubt about the fact. The drummer is not so strong. He drums throughout in Tintal; and there is nothing in his parands which shows that he feels the rhythm of Adachautāla at all. He ought to arrange to meet the player at one or other of the sams (A, B, C, &c.), and he does not do so in any case, although he manages to get a general sense of climax towards the end.

DRUMMING 237

The next is a Panjabi ghazal, on two Shahnais (Havildar Rashu and Naik Nawab) and dhol (Sipahi Miranbaksh) : Ghazal (Dorian). Tāl Dhamār, 5+5+2 +2 quavers. 33rd Punjabis. Two Shahnais in unison. J=140. Phonogram. Ex. 333. =

1st time. L. Dhol. 2nd time. 7 (3rd time.

LLL LLL L 1 L L L

LLL L ..

r Phonogram ends.

.. .. P L7 ד ר

238 DRUMMING

The two oboes, always nearly and never quite in tune with one another, produced 'beats' which in the phonograph are heart- rending. Afterwards the Havildar played alone these two bars of Chautal, which the drummer ornamented at different places :

Rāg Sindora (Dorian, hexatonic). Tāl Chautāl. (4+4+2+2 quavers.) 0=80. Phonogram. Ex. 334

(inaudible.)

(inaudible; probably regular crotchet beats, pp.) (3+3+2)

These give but a slight idea of the intricacy which is sometimes attained by a really good drummer. They are given because the phonograph guarantees their accuraey. Unfortunately it is difficult to get both player and drummer into the phonograph, and I could only manage it when both, as in these cases, were very loud. In the case of song and drum, the song, and in the case of rīņa and drum, the drum alone is audible. In this last specimen at the places marked ' inaudible' the drum was quietly tapping the regular beats of Chautal. Drumming of this kind is in fact the substitute for counterpoint; it serves the same purpose as that does of carrying on the interest of the music over the 'dead' points, or of converging on a crisis. We are familiar with just such cross-rhythms in fugues; in the following example the voices are never all in the same rhythm, and throughout bars 80 and 81 they are all in different rhythms :

DRUMMING 239

The 46th of the forty-eight Fugues.

Ex. 335.

78 79

81 82

&c

N.B .- The numbers are placed at the end of the bar to which they refer.

A few thekus of other Tals than Tintal may be added in order to give an idea of the kind of thing; the one or two new bols they contain will not offer any difficulty :

240 DRUMMING

Ex. Rūpak. 2+3 =5 units. 336. Tin trikad dhī 1 2 (no khālī) nana

Rūpak. 2+4 = 6 units. 1 2 0 1 2 0 Dhīga nana tunna | dhinna nana tunna

Tevra. 3+2+2=7 units. 1 2 3 1 2 3 (no khālt) Kadhina dhina dha katina tina ta

Gajala. 4 +5=9 units. 1 2 (no khālī) Tin taka dhin nana

Surphakta. 4+2+4=10 units. 1 0 2 3 0 Dhagi tita dhagi dhagi tita

Jhampa (Jhap). 2+3+2+3=10 units. 1 2 0 3 Dhin dhatuna katta dhatuna

Chautal. 4+4+2+2=12 units. 1 0 2 0 3 4 Dhadhadhinta kitadhadhinta titakita gadigina

Adachautal. 2+4+4 +4 =14 units. 1 2 0 3 0 4 0 Dhitrik dhinatuna kattadhindhin nadhindhinna

Dhamar. 5+5+4=14 units. 1 2 3 (no khāti) Tadhe dhe dha takita kitataka

The above is the method, or it would be better to say a method, at Poona. The last two contain a cross-rhythm. They end respectively dhindhinna dhindhinna

and taka takita taka

DRUMMING 241

PACE (lāya) AND 'SPEED' (kāla). There are three degrees of tempo; slow (velambit), moderate (madhya), and fast (druta). In whatever tempo, the music has a normal speed-unit, i.e. it is in crotchets, as we should say, or else in quavers, and so on. Doub- lings and halvings of this unit (matra)-as we say, augmentation and diminution-are common, and have names. The normal speed is called the ' time of the time' (bārobārī), or it is named dha from the average length of the principal drum-beat of that name. The alterations of this speed are, taking the crotchet as the unit :

d Thã (lit. a loud sound). J Dhā, or Bārobārī (the time of the time). Dviguni (Dūni, Digan), 'twofold'. Caturguni (Chaugan), ' fourfold'. A 'sixfold' speed is known ; but this generally not the E, but the

triplet-semiquaver as in We need only concern ourselves with Duni (twofold). This principle of doubling the speed is at the root of the curious form the thekas have assumed; it results in 'convergence' of the Tal, either (1) in itself, or (2) with some other Tāl. CONVERGENCE of one Tal. A bar of a Tal is beaten with one hand while two bars of its Duni are beaten with the other. Using Ta for the right-hand stroke, Ka for the left, a for the empty beat, and Dha for both hands, Tintal may be converged :

1 2 0 3 1 2 0 3 Right, Ta 1 2 0 3 Left, Ka Dha ta ka ta ta ta ka ta

or Surphakta. 1 0 2 3 0 1 0 2 3 0 Ta 1 0 2 3 0 Ka

Dha a ta ta ka ta ka ta ta a

or Chautal. 1 0 2 0 3 4 1 0 2 0 3 4 1 0 2 0 3 4

Dha a ta a dha ta ta a dha a dha ta

or Tevra 1 0 0 2 0 3 0 1 0 0 2 0 3 0 1 0 0 2 0 3 0

Dha a ta a ta ka ta a a dha a ta a

1495 R

242 DRUMMING

Similarly one Tal may be ' converged' with another :

Tīntāl 1 2 0 3|1 2 0 3|1 2 0 3 Right Chautāl 1 0 2 3 4 Left Dha ta a ta dha ta a ta dha ta ka ta

or,

Tintāl |1 2 0 3 |1 2 0 311 2 0 3|1 2 0 3|1 2 Surphakta 1 0 2 3 0 |1 0 2 3 0 1 0 2 3 0|1 0 2 3 0| Dha ta ka dha ta dha a dha dha ta ka ta dha dha a dha ta dha ka ta

We have confined ourselves to three bols-ta, ka, and dha. But when all the bols are used we see that the application of this principle of convergence might, if we happened to know the details of the process, result in the concrete examples of the thekas already given. We see, at any rate, that dha comes to be a long beat (dhã) because it is generally succeeded by a; and the prevalence of tirakira (trikara, trikad, trika, trik) in the thekas is accounted for there by the prevalence of such forms as takata and tatakata here. CUMULATION. There is one other principle of disposing the beats and silences which accounts for a few out of the way Tals, and which must be mentioned for the sake of completeness. It consists of cumulating the beats and punctuating these by blanks. Thus :

one one two two four (a) 1 0 | 2 0 | 3 4 0 | 5 6 0 | 7 8 9 1001

one one ŧwo three four (b) 1 0 | 2 0 |3 4 0 |5 6 7 0 | 8 9 10110|

one two three four five (c) 1 0 | 2 3 0 | 4 5 6 0 | 7 8 9 10 0 | 11 12 13 14 15 0|

In all these the cumulative element tends to throw stress upon the final beat (in a, 10; in 6, 11; in c, 15). This, accordingly, becomes the first of the bar, and these three Täls are received into music, with special names, as follows :

[=10] one one two two four (a) Savāri 1 0 | 2 0 | 3 0 | 4 5 0 | 6 7 0 | 8 9 10 . . | >

[=11] one one two three four (b) Brahma 1 0 | 2 0 | 3 0 | 4 5 0 | 6 7 8 0 | 9 10 11 . . | V

[=15] one two three four five (c) Rudra 1 0 | 2 0 | 3 4 0 | 5 6 7 0 | 8 9 10 11 0 |12 13 14 15 .. |

DRUMMING 243

The striking thing about these Tals is their length : 15, 16, and 20 units respectively. There may be a reason for this. It will be noticed that a is in geometrical, c in arithmetical pro- gression. (On those principles the cumulations might have been variously arranged, but it will be found on trial that other arrange- ments are not so satisfactory.) We are told that Savāri (a), 15 units, in this its true form, is no longer in use, and that in its modern form it is simply taken as Tintāl (16 units); and we can see that fifteen units is difficult to count, and that Brahmatāla (b) of sixteen. units is an adulteration of it and a substitute for it. It was clearly necessary in these progressions to take a reasonable number of cumulations in order to display the principle; but there are other reasons for not taking a lower number of them than has been taken. In (a) 'one, one, two' would not have shown the progression, and 'one, one, two, two' would have been too symmetrical, and Hindu Tāl loves variety. In (c) 'one, two, three' produces nine units, which is seldom wanted; and 'one, two, three, four' produces fourteen units, which there are quite half a dozen other ways of counting. However, no doubt both these could be used, and probably are somewhere, and under some name or other. Indian drumming, then, varies the quality rather than the quantity of the tone. It practically ignores accent for its own sake. Such accent as there is on the first of the bar is due to the fact that two rhythms diverge from that point and converge at the beginning of the next or a later bar. It is the accent induced by the juxtaposition of opposing metres, as in the Rondo of Beethoven, Op. 22

Ex. 337

(Subject.)

that pleases the Indian; not the accent which is sought for its own sake as a means of contrast, as, in the same movement, between the subject and the episode : R 2

244 DRUMMING

tr Ex. 338.

sf st

Here is a piece of rhythm that he would delight in (Brahms, Second Symphony) :

Ex. = 339.

3 3 2 2 2 11 4

21 2A 22 2 11 2k

4

31 3 = 21

5

2 3 3 2 2 2

4

..

3 3 2 CI

N.B .- The small numbers refer to crotchets, the large to bars.

3 2 =5

He would not have devised it exactly in this way, since, in the

DRUMMING 245

absence of harmony (which he does not mentally supply, as we do) and in the disregard (4+4+5+4+5) of the fixed section (4+4, &c., or 5+5, &c., which he demands), there is nothing to hold it together. But he would be in sympathy with the metrical scheme :

3+3+2+2+2) 2+22+22+22 + 2 = 12 crotchets (4 bars). 2+2+3+3+2) 2 를 +3 를 +2 를 +3 를 +3 2+2 3+3+3+2 = 15 crotchets (5 bars).

It is this kind of variety which he gets from his drumming (dardara).1 He uses the drum ornamentally, and not as we do (with the exception of certain dramatic passages) structurally.

1 Dardara = da-da-da-da, a word formed from the name of the principal drum- beat, dha. d and r have practically the same sound.

CHAPTER X

THE SAMAN CHANT

It is a bemoanable pity to consider how few there are who know, but fewer who consider, what wonderful- powerful-efficacious Virtues and Operations Musick has upon the Souls and Spirits of Men Dirinely-bent. THOMAS MACE.

AN inquiry into the ethos and structure of some of the oldest music of which there is any record is not a mere piece of antiquarianism; it throws that sort of light on the music of modern India which a knowledge of the geology of a country throws upon its scenery. Before coming to the Samaveda itself it will be necessary to glance at the recitation of the other Vedas, especially the Rgveda. For the Samaveda has borrowed the large majority of its text from the Rgveda, only altering or expanding the actual words so as to make them suitable for chanting; and much of the grammatical and prosodical determinations of the Rgveda has been given in the Sāmaveda a musical meaning. The Rgveda is recited now, as it has always been, to three tones; for the accent was originally a mark of musical pitch, and became a mark of stress only after the beginning of our era. The 'raised' (udātta) and 'not raised' (anudatta) sounds represent the two main pitches of the speaking voice; this is the prose accent of the Brähmanas; and there is nothing to show whether these two prose accents had any musical relationship. In addition to these two there was, for the reciting voice, the ' sounded' tone (svarita), which is shown on philological grounds to have been originally between the two others in pitch, but which is in the Rgveda above the udātta. No explanation is given as to what is exactly meant by 'sounded',1 although it seems clear from the treatment of svarita that it means 'graced'. The svarita is in effect ' a falling accent of a dependent nature, marking the transition from an accented to a toneless 1 Haug (Ueber das Wesen, &c., p. 74) appears to accept the view that svarita from Svara (like getönt from Ton) means 'accentuated'. But (1) this looks like a false analogy from the double meaning of Ton, and (2) svarita must surely be connected with svära, which meant, technically, a downward slide through the svaras, i.e. the svarita was that note to which this slide was attached.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 247

syllable. It regularly follows the udatta, to the rise of which its fall corresponds in pitch.1 But also, ' the first part of the svarita sounds higher than the udātta' (ibid.), so that the svarita is practi- cally an ornamented udätta falling to an indefinite pitch below it. This indefinite pitch is called pracaya ('throng'), in allusion to the number of unaccented syllables which occur there in succession; the pracaya is toneless, as distinguished from the udātta and anu- datta, which are toned.2 Before the rise from the pracaya to the next udatta or svarita, the voice descends to a ' lower' (sannatara) or 'more lowered' (anudāttatara) note, which is below the anudātta. That is the original theory of the recitation; it will be seen, however, that it is modified in practice. This example, from Haug, p. 52, shows the svarita marked with a perpendicular line over the syllable, the anudatta with a horizontal beneath 3; the udatta and pracaya are unmarked :

U S A U A U S A S Ex. 340. 72

śam 1 1 no de - vīr a - bhi sta ya po .

P A U S P A U S P

72

&C. - bha-van - tu pī - ta -ye . . śam yor a - bhi sra - van - tu nah

This is the Poona form of recitation taken down by Haug from the lips of Maratha Brahmans.4 Only one form of the svarita, the

1 A. A. Macdonell, Vedic Grammar, p. 77. 2 It is tempting to see in the pracaya the counterpart of the pyknon. The pyknon was the cluster of three notes at intervals of a diesis (quarter-tone) which occurred in the Enharmonic genus (or of a semitone in the Chromatic). Thence there was a leap to the mese just as there was a leap from the anudātta, or pracaya, to the udātta. But the pyknon was not an amorphous cluster; one of its three notes stood out from the other two, was in fact of the nature of a tonic. This is closely analogous to the toneless pracaya in which the toned anudātta stood out. And this 'toneless tone' may, further, be in principle the forerunner of the drone, frequently relegated to the drum, which might be called from one point of view toneless, from another, toned. The formation of the svarita tells us that the interval which was taken as a leap in ascent was bridged in descent; and this is borne out by the practice of modern Rāga, which prefers on the whole disjunct motion in ascent and conjunct in descent. 3 Devanāgari letters are surmounted by a continuous horizontal line. A per- pendicular line stands out well against this, and a horizontal line against the tails of the letters below. 1 Haug (loc. cit.) gives four more of these stanzas.

248 THE SMAN CHANT

appoggiatura F È, is here employed. But the noticeable thing is that the pracaya (marked P) is the same note as the udatta, not as the anudätta; if in a chant of only three notes it is to be distin- guished from the anudatta, it could not well have any other place ; still, this change appears to await explanation. In the following specimens 1 from Madras the svarita appears as a single note (F) and as an upward appoggiatura, E F.

S S S

Ex. 341.

a - gni-mi le pu -ro - hi-tam ya - jña - sya de - va-mrt - vi -

S P S P S

• • jam ho - tā - ram ra - tna-dhā - ta-mam

A A A P F Ex. 842.

Co - da-yi - trī sū - nṛ-tā . năm ce - tan su - ma-tī - nām

In the second of these examples the syllables Co-da obey a rule that 'when more than one anudātta precedes an udātta, all but the last are sounded lower'. Dr. Erwin Felber's book, which has lately appeared, Die indische Musik der vedischen und der klassischen Zeit, contains (p. 106, No. 433) an example of recitation of the Rgreda 'in the style of the old Rsis', which is more florid and of larger compass than any of these.

The Yajurveda is also recited on the notes D, E, F; although in the half dozen times I heard it D, E, F#2 was quite as common. The following is from a Mysore singer :

Ex. 848

Ka - yā na - ści - tra ā bhu - vad ū - tī sa-dā - vṛ-dhaḥ sa-

khã ka-yā ša - ci-stha-yā vr- tā

1 See M. Sesagiri Sastrī, Descriptive Catalogue of the Government Oriental MSS. in the Madras Library, vol. i, pt. 1, pp. 3, 4. 2 Noted here for convenience as C, D, E; I made no note of the absolute pitch.

THE SÃMAN CHANT 249

but the passage is too short to show the compass. At any rate, Dr. Felber1 gives two specimens of Yajurveda on pp. 108, 116, which show a compass of a Fourth and a Fifth respectively; his example (p. 106) of the Rgveda reaches a Sixth. This is perhaps only one more instance of what is so common in music, the ' official' rules lagging decades or centuries behind the practice. His three examples (of both Vedas) show a foundation scale D, E, F, though one of them begins in E, F#, G, and continues in E, F, G.1

The Atharvaveda does not appear to be recited, at least not in accordance with rules. But all reading of the sastras is recitation. Students read, i. e. recite, in the same room. Children are taught to read so. A boy read me some of the Rgreda, employing the accents correctly, but stopped when he reached a certain page 'because he had not learned any further'. It will be noticed in these examples that with the exception of an occasional grace-note or appoggiatura-and a great many more grace-notes are put in than appears in the text, for seldom is a note ever sung, as we should say, clean-the syllables are allotted one note each; there are no melodic figures like the ligatures of Gre- gorians. For these we turn to the

Samaveda. The symbol round which the elaborate ritual of the Samaveda gathers is that sacrifice of which the drinking of the juice of the Soma plant was the central point. The virtues of this juice are recapitulated in the ninth book of the Rgveda, from which mainly the words for the Saman chants are taken.2 Soma is translated ' moon-plant'; and the Samaveda is specially connected with the worship of ancestors, whose abode was the moon. Great care was taken not to deviate from the original melody-types and rhythms, and the religious efficacy of the hymns was held to depend largely on the right application of directions contained in the Brahmanic explanations (Brahmana, not later than the sixth century B. c.) of the Vedic text (Samhita). The expense of the full 1 The names of the notes throughout this chapter indicate relative pitch only. They are chosen at any absolute pitch which is suitable, as fragments of the Sāman scale, which is explained, or at any rate discussed, later. 2 There is nothing to show that the chants are later than the words ; in fact, since Sämans are often mentioned in the Rgveda there is a probability, beyond the intrinsic likelihood, that they are older.

250 THE SĀMAN CHANT

ceremonial was not small; the Soma sacrifice involved days in perform- ance and months in preparation. A full description of its elaborate and gorgeous ritual is to be found in the Aitareyabrahmana of the Rgveda, translated into English by Martin Haug, 1863, and its close connexion with the fire-worship of the Zoroastrians is there detailed. Other creeds have now swept across India and buried that of the Vedas in oblivion. The memory of the words and chants, and possibly of parts of the ritual, lingers chiefly in the South. Even there the true Sama-singers are few, and impostors are beginning to flourish. The body of hymns is divided into two sections, which may be centuries apart-the early, according to the latest authority,1 the Uttarārcika, and the late, the Pūrvārcika. The early hymns are divided into (1) the 'investigated' (Uha), and (2) those which are 'to be investigated' (Uhya) or which are ' secret' (Rahasya). The later hymns are in three divisions, addressed to Fire (Agni), the Rain-god (Indra), and Soma Pavamāna.2 These are arranged inter- nally according to their metres, and according to the ' jubilations' (stobha) and the doxologies (the parts of the hymn which are genuine Saman). Only seventy-five verses, out of many hundreds, are not borrowed from the Rgveda or other source; such borrowings are known technically as yoni (womb). A distinction is also made between those verses of the Rgveda which have one melody (eka- sami) or many (bahusami), showing that Saman is, properly speaking, music, not music and words, nor words for music. In fact the conception is the reverse of ours. We speak of setting words, that is, putting music to them; but the Saman is a melody for which words were found (chiefly in the Rgveda). This is the case too with modern poets; Rabindranath Tagore says that when the general idea of the poem comes into his mind, he first thinks of the melody (generally his own) and then writes words to it. We are reminded of Burns's two manful attempts to find words for that 'crinkum-crankum tune, Robin Adair', with its 'cursed, cramp, out of the way measure', and of his better success with Duncan Gray, 'in Scots verse'. The rhythm is, as in Plain-song, determined by the words, which decide where it will be appropriate to take breath. The two versions of the first hymn of the Samaveda which follow are from A. C. Burnell (Ārseyabrāhmaņa, Introd., p. xlv) and Śeșagiri Śāstrī (loc. cit.); and 1 Caland, Jaiminīya-samhitā, p. 4. 2 Paramāna, clarifying.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 251

the notation is in accordance with the directions of the Ganas (the Samaveda text as actually sung) as they understood them, checked in the first case by the verification of a musician, and in the second by the usage as the writer knew it : Burnell, Ārseyabrāhmaņa, p. xlv. Ex. 344

0 - gnā - i ã - yā hi vo - i - to - yā - i gr-ņā - no ha- esagiri Śāstrī, Cat. Sanskr. MSS., Madras.

0 - gnā - i ā yā - hi ī ve - i - to yā ā i gr - nā - no ha-

V

• vya-dā - to - yā - i to - yã - nā - i ho - tā sā

• vya-dā to yã ã i to - yā - ā - i nã - i ho - tā sã

A A

• tsã . bā au ho bã - rhī - shĩ

tsā - ā · ī bā - ă ā ā au ho bā - rhī - i - I - I · shī

Here, and elsewhere, a long mark over a vowel sometimes represents musical, not prosodic, length.

The actual words of the hymn are : Agna āyāhi vītaye grņāno havyadātaye | Ni hotā satsi barhiși || 1 The bar-lines (given by Burnell only) are breath marks. The last note of each 'bar' (parvan) is accented (vrddha).2 The next two examples have no such authority. They are merely the versions of two gurus, whom I heard in Mysore and Bangalore, of an identical verse, and represent possibly two different sects 1 Translation : 'Come, Agni, praised with song, to feast and sacrificial offering ; be seated as Hotar on the holy Kuśa grass.' 2 Lit. augmented. It appears to be occasionally augmented in time-length also, counting 3 to the 2 of the long (dirgha) and the 1 of the short (hrasva). Later theory (see p. 256) has added lengths between these. We are reminded of the Greek time-unit (chronos protos), 'two-time long' (disemos) and 'three-time long' (trisēmos).

252 THE SÃMAN CHANT

(sakha). The tonic is D in both cases; that of Mysore ' closes' by means of an unusual leap (C, E, C, D), and that of Bangalore by the device of an 'Alleluia' (stobha) : Mysore. Ex. 845.

Ka ya na - ś ca - i tra bhūd

Bangalore.

Ka - yã na - á ca ay tra bhūvad ū

• tī sa - da - vr-dhaḥ sa-khā au . u-ho - o - hai ka-yā ..

• tī - sa-dā - vr-dha sa - khā au . ho - hai ka-yā

ša - ci - stha - yo ha

sa - ci - stha-yo . ha him 1 - a vr - to . . hai 1

There was, not unnaturally, great difficulty in inducing priests to sing these chants, and one man, at Bangalore, offered in lieu thereof 'Sanskrit in the style of Saman'. But the unusual content of the words shows its influence in the more or less rhythmical phrases induced by the prosody, which take the place of those vocal phrases and melodic figures which flow naturally from the liturgical use of the words in the Sāmaveda :

Bangalore. Sanskrit in the style of Sāman. Ex. 346

He jih-ve ra-sa-sā - ra-jñe sar - va - dā

• ma-dhu-ra-pri - ye - nā - rā - ya-ņā khya pī - yū

sam pi - ba jih-ve ni-ra-nta - ram

THE SĀMAN CHANT 253

On the other hand, at Tanjore a man got up of his own motion and sang Säman before a roomful of people, and, what was more surprising, before a European in their presence. It appeared that he had a theory of his own as to how Saman should be sung, and was seeking converts. He has evidently taken the scale of the Nāradašikșā (see below, p. 259) as if it were in the modern notation, F-G, instead of the ancient, G-A, and the mode is therefore changed. Further, the essence of the Saman chant is that it circles about one note, F (or E, or D), and only leaves that to form a downward cadence. His version draws attention away from the E to the A below, which in the true Saman is quite a subsidiary note, and it begins, therefore, to be in a regular Rāg, which Sāmagās assert positively that their chants are not. Moreover, he has forgotten after the first line to put in those characteristic prolongations of notes by vocalizing syllables which add so much to the solemnity of the chant :

Tanjore. Ex. 847.

In - dra ho vaiś - va - sya rā ja - ti ho va -

ho i na Kr - pā sa - mu-dram su - mu-kham

tri - ne- tram ja - tā .. dha- raņ pār - va - tī . . vā - ma - bhār-yam

sa - dā · si - vam ru-dram a - na - nta - rū pam ci-dam-

ba - re - śam hṛ-di bhā va ya mi

The words are spelled phonetically ; his original text is not available.

Form. The Saman is divided into five parts : (i) Prastāva, introductory ascription of praise, preceded by the syllable hum, sung by the prastotri, or assistant priest. (ii) Udgītha, preceded by om, sung by the udgātri, or priest.

254 THE SĀMAN CHANT

(iii) Pratihāra, the joining in, preceded by hum, sung by the pratihartri, who 'joined in' at the last syllable of the udgitha. Sometimes the pratihara is divided into two, in which case there is- (iv) Upadrava, the recession, formed out of the last few syllables of the pratihara, sung by the udgūtri. (v) Nidhana, the coda, consisting of one or at the most two syllables, sung by all three priests, followed in some cases by om.1 The following are the first two sections of the first hymn of the Sāmaveda :

Burnell, Ārseyabrāhmaņa, p. xIv. I. 1. 1. Prastāva. Udgītha. Ex. 848.

0 - gnā - ī ā yā - hi .. vo - i - to - yā - i

I. 1. 2.

A-gna ā yā - hī vī - ta - yā - i gṛ - ņã - no ha-vya - dā -

.1 gr - ņã - no ha - vya-dā - to - yā to - yā i

• tō yā - i

Pratihāra. Upadrava.

na . ho tā sa tsā i

ni ho - tā sa - tsi bā - rh i - si bā - rhã i

Nidhana.

vā au he bā - rhī

si au ho va bā - rhī si ʻ . .

1 These five bhakti (see p. 255) are the subject of Dr. Simon's latest work, Das Pañcavidhasūtra, Breslau, 1913.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 255

The verse, āgna āyāhi (. gveda VI. 16. 10), is sung three times over to form a stoma (group) ; Burnell only gives two of the three, and they are arranged here under one another for comparison. Of the remaining nine verses of this particular hymn, eight are from the Rgveda, and the last, which forms a doxology, belongs exclusively to the Samaveda. Besides the first verse, the fourth and fifth also form stomas; the sixth, seventh, and eighth are sung twice, and the other four only once1; in all, nineteen sections (bhakti). The usual number was fifteen. Mention is also made of nine and twenty-one bhakti; so that a basis of three or five or seven stomas is implied, varied probably in any particular case. The practical directions for the singing of these hymns are given in the Ganas. These give the text of the Sāmaveda (which has been culled, with modification, from the Rgveda chiefly) with the syllables vocalized (i. e. with prolongation and modification of vowels) and farsed (i. e. with insertion of vocal syllables between those of the text). These insertions (stobha, praises) are the exact counterpart of the jubila interpolated in Plain-song in the ninth and tenth centuries, out of which 'tropes' were developed in the eleventh,2 as the bhakti of the Samaveda are also of the ' strophes' of Plain-song, which, like them, were of indefinite number; the idea, too, of singing the hymn in stotras (stanzas) and stomas (groups) is reproduced in the sometimes single, sometimes repeated performance of the strophe.

Rhythm. The metres of the hymns are six (later eight) chief ones, in which the governing factor is the number of syllables, varying from twenty-four to forty-four for the stanza. Quantity of vowel is taken no account of except at the cadence. These need not detain us now, as the rhythm of the chants ignores the poetical metre entirely. In the true Saman there are only three time-units : a short (hrasva) note for a quantitatively short syllable, a long (dirgha) for a quantitatively long ; syllables made long 'by position ' count as short. An occasional important syllable still further lengthened or, especially at the end of a phrase (parvan), stressed, or both lengthened and stressed, is called augmented (vrddhi) or prolate (pluta). This also finds its analogue in Plain-song.

1 These are called stotras. 2 See W. H. Frere, Winchester Troper, Introduction, p. xxxii seq.

256 THE SĀMAN CHANT

The system of the Mātrālaksana (date?) is an advance upon this, and is placed here for comparison beside the modern South Indian scheme of time-values :

MĀTRĀLAKȘAŅA. MODERN SYSTEM (S. India). 1. Anumātrā, 'under '-mātrā ANUDRUTA, 'under'-quick. 2. Ardhamātrā, half-mātrā DRUTA, quick. 3. Druta virāma.1 4. HRASVA short, or MĀTRÃ, unit LAGHU, light. 5. Laghu virāma. 6. Adhyardha, additional half2 Laghu druta. 7. (sc. mātrā) Laghu druta virāma. 8. DĪRGHA, long GURU, heavy. 9. Guru virāma. 10. Ardhatisrah, third halt Guru druta. 11. Guru druta virāma. 12. PLUTA, prolate, or VRDDHA, PLUTA, prolate.

13. augmented. Pluta virāma. 14. Ardhacatasrah, fourth half Pluta druta. 15 ... Pluta druta virāma. 16. KĀKAPĀDA, crow's foot.3

These interminable theorizers also subdivided the anudruta. The anudruta is the equivalent of :

2x 2= 4 Kalā syllabic instant.4 4x 8= 32 Nimesha moment. 8x 32= 256 Kāșthā z2g of an hour. 16×108= 1728 Lava 32x512=16384 Kaņa 2006 of an hour. atom.

The use of astronomical subdivisions is interesting, though hardly illuminating (there are other explanations of the kastha and lava). The only one of these terms in practical use is the kala, which properly means 16. The kalā is T6 of the Laghu (their unit) as the semiquaver is 716 of the semibreve (our unit). Cp. the German Sechzehntel and the American 'sixteenth note'.

1 Virāma appears to be used indifferently for a rest or a dot with the time- value of an anudruta. The word means in general 'stop' (of punctuation); and is used in particular to show that a consonant is not followed by the a which is inherent in it. 2 Cp. German anderthalb = 11, dritthalb = 24, &c. s The sign in one modern notation for the longest note is x. ' The syllable ka has two 'instants'-k and a.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 257

Scale. In the accompanying list of authorities for the Saman scale the first six are ancient, the last four modern; the two sets are separated by something like twenty centuries. The list is probably not complete; there is no indication of place of origin. They are collated on two assumptions : (1) that the words krusta, prathama, &c., name the same note wherever they occur, that is, that krusta, for instance, was not at different periods applied to two different notes, and (2) that the two identifications of the Sūman names with the notes of the secular scale by authorities III, VII, VIII, and X are to be trusted. If either of these assumptions should be shown to be wrong the evidence would have to be recon- sidered. Names of the Sūman notes. As extensions of a nucleus-prathama, dvitiya, trtīya, caturtha (first, second, third, fourth)-occur three others-krusta, mandra, atisvārya. Krusta. In more than one of these authorities the order in the original text is prathama, dritīya, trtīya, caturtha, mandra, krusta, atisvārya. Krusta is used of the highest note; and as the sixth in a downward series this word has given trouble. Burnell proposed to read krsta, 'that to which karsana has been applied.' He did not, however, explain why karsana should be applied in the sixth place especially, and it appears now that it is typically applied to the highest note. But there is nothing to show that the order of the names is the melodic order; and it is at least possible that in the order given above the first five name the ordinary notes of the scale (see p. 258, 1. 12) and the last two the extraordinary ones (which happen to be at either end of the five). Meanwhile, if order does matter, that of No. III, in which krsta actually occurs, is the order of the original. Moreover, No. V alludes to the seven svaras as krustādi, 'beginning on krusta'; so there is little doubt that the krusta is above the prathama, and that another statement of Burnell's that krusta and prathama are the same note is not universally true. There is another interest attaching to the word krusta, 'highest.' It shows us, as do also the ordinals prathama, caturtha, that the Hindus regarded the treble as high and the bass as low; as we do, and as the Greeks, who named the lowest note hypate (highest), did not. This reminds us that high and low in music are merely a metaphor, though a very natural one. In a somewhat similar way Europeans regard the harmony of a song as 'underneath' the 1495 s

258

AUTHORITIES FOR THE SAMAN SCALE.

I 12

Rkprātišākhya. prathama dvitīya caturtha mandra

At least fourth cent. (also, astama, sama, and śukra)

B. C. krusta prathama dvitīya trtīya caturtha mandra atisvārya 3

II head palate brow ear nose chest (formed by 4

Brhaddevatā. karsana

At least fourth cent. from the mandra)

III krsta prathama dvitīya tṛtīya caturtha mandra atisvārya 5

Taittirīya- udātta svarita Ri pracaya anudātta 6

Prātisākhya. Ga Sa Ni

At least fourth cent. kṛsta prathama dvitīya tṛtīya (Āhvārakas) 7

caturtha 8

dvitīya mandra (Taittirīyas) 9

IV Sāmavidhāna- krusta prathama dvitīya tṛtīya caturtha mandra atisvārya 10

brāhmana. pañcama atisvāra

Later than I, II, anusvāra

III sastha antya

V Puspasūtra. Fifth to second cent. Alludes to the whole series as 'krustādi', that is, beginning with krusta. 11

VI Sāmatantra. g1 ji di di bi 12

Prob. not modern. VII prathama tṛtīya caturtha 13

Sāmaparibhāsā. krusta dvitīya mandra atisvārya

Quite modern.' Ni C Dha | (F#) Pa A Ma G a | (C) Ri E Sa D 14

(R. Simon.) 1 (B) a | (A)

VIII Māndūkisiksā. Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha 15

'Quite modern.' svarita anudātta udātta 16

(R. S.) first finger pracaya

first third fourth (root) fourth (tip) 17

IX Dhāranalaksana. krusta prathama dvitīya trtīya caturtha mandra 18

'Quite modern.' thumb (tip) thumb (root) second finger third fourth (root) fourth (tip) 19

(A. C. Burnell.) X krusta prathama dvitīya trtīya caturtha mandra atisvāra 20

Nāradaśiksā first note of the second = Ga third = Ri fourth = Sa fifth = Ni sixth = Dha seventh = Pa 21

' Quite modern.' scale = Ma

(A. C. B.) crane goat bull peacock elephant horse koïl 22

svarita udātta anudātta svarita udātta anudātta svarita 23

S 2 krusta prathama

thumb (tip) thumb (root) 24

Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha

first finger second third fourth (root) fourth (tip) 25

krușța prathama tṛtīya (Āhvārakas) 26

prathama dvitīya (Tandibhallavins) 27

prathama dvitīya tṛtīya (The Rgveda) 28

dvitīya trtiya caturtha mandra (Taittirīyas) 29

Relative pitch of the notes. Ma Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha 259

Ma Ga

260 THE SÃMAN CHANT

melody; whereas the Maoris think of the song as 'here, down below', and the harmony as going up to the roof under which they are singing and 'coming down' to them. Mandra, low. This is the usual name for the sixth note; it is once (No. IV) called pañcama, in continuation of the ordinals. That it was a substantive note of the scale we see perhaps in No. I, where it appears even though the trtiya is omitted. But that it was on a different footing from the five notes above it is indicated in line 4, where they are all head-notes as opposed to the mandra, a chest-note. It gave its name also to the lower octave in the secular scale as opposed to the middle octave (madhya, or madhyama) and the upper (tāra, or uttama). Atisvārya, extremity of the cadence. This is a curious name for the lowest note of the full scale, to which we should naturally have attached some idea of a tonic. But it is obvious that it is not a substantive note of the scale at all. In line 4 it only exists by permission of the mandra; in line 10 there is an uncertainty about the pronunciation of its name (atisvārya, atisvāra, anusvāra), and alternatives are suggested-sastha (sixth) and antya (last); in lines 17, 19, and 25 the ' musical hand' does not provide for it, and line 4 does not appropriate to it an organ of the body. It is clearly an 'extra' note; and it may be observed that the Greeks similarly regarded their scale as stopping normally at the B, while they called the note A below it ' extra' (proslambanomenos).

Tetrachords. There are indications that the nucleus of the scale was, successively perhaps, the tetrachords :

Ex. 849. and

The tetrachord E-B. In line 9 this is the usus of the Taittiriyas, confirmed by line 29. In line 16 these same notes are appropriated to the four Rgreda accents. Lines 1 and 2 are very difficult because we do not know how to place the three notes of line 2. Astama (eighth) in a scale of seven notes is surprising. But it will be seen at the foot of the diagram that the scale actually contains eight notes, and it is just conceivable that astama, which is obviously extra to the accepted seven, names the F#, which is alternative to the Ft. This leaves sama (level) and śukra (bright) to fill three places; and all that can be said is that atisvārya, the 'additional'

THE SĀMAN CHANT 261

note, is the most likely of the three to have been left unfilled. In line 1, where we can place the notes, it is remarkable that trtiya should be omitted in the series of four; and this may be an indi- cation that the D was not on the same footing with the others, and that in this treatise, at any rate, the real nucleus of the scale was held to be F E-C B, i. e. composed of the Fourths F-C and E-B. The tetrachord F-C. On the other hand, the fact that the four ordinals (first to fourth) are assigned in every treatise to the notes F, E, D, C, and that in line 6 the Rgveda accents are appropriated to these notes, makes it clear that the tetrachord F-C has an equal claim with that of E-B to be considered the foundation of the scale. The hesitation between these tetrachords is reflected in the 'musical hand' of line 17, where F and E are both assigned to the first finger, and C and B both to the fourth; and the hesitation remains, in respect of C and B, in lines 19 and 25. It is clear also that the scale consisted normally of only five notes for a considerable time. In the Puspasūtra (9. 26) we find that 'the Kauthumas sing the majority of their chants to five tones, a few to six, and two of them to seven tones'. In line 12 we find Sol-fa names for five notes only. That no more than five were con- templated may be seen from the choice of consonants. They are the medials of the five classes of consonant (guttural, palatal, cerebral, dental, and labial) proceeding in regular order from throat to lips. Lines 17 and 25 are a further indication that the normal scale consisted of five notes. All this lends some support to the interpretation given above of line 1. The scale was increased to six by the addition of krusta. That this was an afterthought is seen in the fact that it is independent of the nomenclature by ordinals, in the hesitation as to krusta or krstu, and in the confusion introduced into the musical hand (lines 19 and 25). Finally, a seventh note was tentatively admitted in the atisvārya.

Consonance (samvadita). The consonanee which was suggested by two tetrachords, F-C and E-B, is carried out furtler in line 23, where the seven notes are divided into two similar tetrachords. This consonance holds whatever the intervals may be between the notes within the tetrachord. For the intonation of these we depend on the identifications in lines 14 and 21 of the Saman notes with

262 THE SĀMAN CHANT

those of the secular scale, which, as we saw (p. 114), was at least as old as the oldest of these treatises. In lines 6, 15, and 21 Sa is identified with trtīya, and this gives the Sa-grama in a plagal form from N(i). In line 14 Sa is identified with atisvarya, and this gives the Ma-grama in a plagal form from N(i), or the Sa-grama in an authentic form from M(a). But S(a) and P(a) are samvadī; therefore the notes are D and A (not D and A). The two scales are therefore Sa-grāma.

Ex. 350. and Ma-grāma.

Ex. 351.

We saw in Chapter IV that the Gandhara-grama was, according to one explanation,

Ex. 352

and it is possible that the Saman scale may throw some light upon it. That scale is reckoned downwards, and therefore the note E is called R(i); but the gramas are reckoned upwards, and therefore E is G(a). If the Ga-grūma begins on E, it has for its upward tetrachord E, F, G, A, that is, a semitone and two major tones. These make more than a Fourth, therefore either the semitone is the Pythagorean comma (25§, 90 cents), or one of the tones is a minor tone, as in the lower tetrachord, E, D, C, B. The upper tetrachord would in the first case be the same as the early Greek Doric, and would contain the ditone, instead of the major Third. It seems likely that in some way of which we cannot now trace the history, the gūndhara-grama is a relic of this old tuning. The Comma of Didymus (81) has to be negotiated somewhere in the scale. We, in Europe, put it between the A and the D (major tone, semitone, major tone), the Indians between the E and the A (semitone, major tone, major tone). In so placing it, it is possible that they reduced an original È 25s, F g, G g, A to a later E 1§,

THE SÃMAN CHANT 263

We have other hints which point to a correspondence between the Greek and Indian scale. The Aryans came into India from the North. Gandhara is the same word as Kandahar, which as late as Alexander's time (fourth century B. c.) included Afghanistan and the Panjab, with a capital near Peshawar. The Gāndhāra-grāma is the oldest of the three gramas, and may preserve an early Aryan tradition. The Aryans spoke Sanskrit, which is closely allied to Greek. Evidence of the correspondence of the Greek and Indian systems has been accumulating in these pages; and that the fundamental scale of Greece, the Doric tetrachord, should be iden- tical in form with the oldest form of Indian tetrachord would be more striking evidence than any. But it is unfortunately not more than circumstantial. The Gandhara scale gave its name no doubt to the Gandhāra note. The names Madhyama and Pañcama have been discussed in Chapter V. Of Rsabha, Dhaivata, and Nisāda nothing is known; they may be place-names, like Gāndhāra, or fancy names, like the majority of the śrutis. Of Sadja there is something more to be said. Referring once more to the list above we find in line 4 the seventh note left without an assigned organ of the body. In line 14 that same note is called Sa. We remember also that the atisvārya is not a regular note of the scale, but is introduced into it as an extension of the other six. Elsewhere, in the Sangīta-sāra- sangraha, for instance, sadja, which undoubtedly means 'born of six', is said to be produced from six organs of the body, viz. nose, throat, chest, palate, tongue, and teeth. Putting these together we see that the name sadja is merely the mythological expression of the musical fact that the atisvārya was an 'extra' note on a different footing from the others. There is, however, another tradition as to the intonation of the Sāman scale. M. Seșagiri Sāstrī (Descriptive Catalogue, pp. 3, 4) gives the scale as Ma, Ga, Ri, Sa, Dha, and says that the sound is that of the Rag Abhogi. That Rāg is :

S D S R G M D Ex. 853.

Drone D 1 (which does not matter here, the drone being a later

1 The European note (not the svara).

264 THE SĀMAN CHANT

invention), amsa E, omitted notes C and A. This is an old tradition, as may be seen from three passages : (1) in an early book of the Mahabhārata the notes of the secular scale are given as Sa, Ri, Ga, Ma, Dha, Pa, Ni; (2) in the Nāradaśiksā (I. 2. 16) the order is Ma, Ga, Ri, Sa, Dha, Ni, Pa; and (3) in I. 7. 4 it is Ma, Ga, Ri, Sa, Dha, Ni (Pa omitted). In all three passages the first five notes are the same, and the last two are out of order; this looks as if the first five were substantive and the last two optional, thus : S R G M D P N 0 Ex. 854

and this is the scale of Sesagiri Sastrī and of the Rag Abhogi; and since the amsa of Abhogi is at E, it divides thus :

D S R G M D Ex. 855.

and its lower tetrachord is similar to the usus of the Ahvārakas given in line 26 of the list. We must accept this transilient scale, there- fore, as a collateral form of the Saman.

The musical hand. The basis of numeration is in some countries five, in others a dozen (England) or a score (France); in India it is four. Rupees, for instance, are frequently counted by placing one finger on each and sweeping them into the hand. Bearing this in mind, it may be possible to introduce some method into these dis- crepant accounts of the musical hand. The root idea of this 'cheironomy' is that the thumb touches successively the tips of the four fingers. This is seen in the svara, or cadence, where the hand is held 'in the shape of a cow's ear' (see the second of the two illustrations opposite), and the thumb passes over the four fingers in succession. Line 17 may accordingly represent two systems of . counting : Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha (a) 1st [2nd] [3rd] 4th (b) 1st [2nd] 3rd 4th (line 17) 1st 1st 3rd 4th 4th

Similarly line 19: Ma Ga Ri Sa Ni (b) [1st] 2nd 3rd 4th (c) thumb [1st] 2nd 3rc 4th (pentachord) (line 19) thumb thumb 2nd 3rd 4th

PLATE 14

Sāmagaḥ, Madras.

Samagab, Bangalore.

P. 264

THE SÃMAN CHANT 265

Lines 24 and 25 combine these. We have therefore :

Ma Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha

(a) E D C B (tetrachord) (b) F E D C (tetrachord) (c) G F (F#) E D C (pentachord) as bases, perhaps successive bases, of the Sāman scale.

The accents.

Ma Ga Ri Sa Ni Dha Pa (i) line 6 P A " 16 | U S S A U P (iii) „, 23 S U A S U A S

There was a doubt, as we saw, about the relative position of udatta and svarita: in the Rgreda the svarita is above, but there is reason to think it may originally have been below the udatta. This doubt, reflected in (i) and (iii) above, is natural if we consider the nature of the svarita, which started on the udātta, rose a little above it, and fell much below it. It was natural that in recitation, where the question of exact pitch did not come up, the fall should be the conspicuous thing, and in its general effect the svaritu come to be considered below the udätta; but that, when the pitch came to be defined in chanting, the rise should rather attract attention, since a fall or cadential phrase took place for other reasons than the fact that the syllable had a svarita accent, whereas the rise was peculiar to the svarita note, and therefore in its particular effect the svarita was above the udātta. That in (i) the pracaya is above the anudatta and in (ii) below it need cause no trouble, since, as the pracaya is 'toneless', there is really no sense in assigning it to any particular tone. The position of the anudātta above the udātta in (ii) is more difficult. Perhaps we are justified in calling Ga (in ii) udātta on the analogy of (i) and (iii). This would fulfil all that is required of the pracaya and anudatta, that they should be somewhere below the svarita (and the upper udatta). The lower udātta then appears as the other terminal of the tetrachord, with the svarita above it. In (iii) the accents appear to lose their grammatical meaning entirely and to be given a musical meaning. The udātta is now the terminal of the tetrachord, at Ga and Ni, with the svarita above it and the anudātta below it. The udātta is 'raised' above the others not in pitch, but in musical eminence. The svarita loses its

266 THE SĀMAN CHANT

sense of 'graced' note, and becomes a note of certain relative pitch. The anudatta is no longer of indefinite 'low' pitch, forced under certain conditions 'lower' (anudāttatara), but becomes definite. The theory of consonance thus determined has its counterpart in Greek music : svarita G lichanos udātta F parhypate anudātta E hypate svarita D lichanos udātta C parhypate anudātta B hypate [ atisvārya A proslambanomenos ] These are quite different from Hucbald's excellentes, superiores, finales, graves, with which Burnell compares them, and which involved a series of disjunct, not conjunct, tetrachords.

An example of the chant as sung by a Samagah in Madras shows the general musical effect. The breve at the beginning shows the actual pitch of the first note (a Fifth higher); the chant itself is given at the pitch which suits the scale just discussed. The fragmentary syllables are merely phonetic spellings of the apparent sounds of the phonograph, with gaps where the words are inaudible. It was extremely difficult to get even this short specimen. Sāman chant. Madras. (Phonogram.)

Ex. 356

Au - di - ba in-dra da - ve - ba ā

(b)

da-ve-ba yan de rā drī . .

rā lri dar .

yā - da ā i - yā - dã ā ma rvā

&c

ā . au au ā ri - i - ī .

THE SĀMAN CHANT 267

Herr Felix Exner was far more successful in 1904. His results have now been worked out by Dr. Erwin Felber, provided with text and translation by Herr Bernhard Geiger, and were published in 1913 under the title Die indische Musik der vedischen und der klassischen Zeit as a contribution to the history of recitation. Dr. Felber has very kindly given permission for their transcription here. The actual pitch is given, as before, by the breve at the beginning of each example. The Samaveda notation with which each of his examples is supplied is omitted here, because it is probably the notation of a different sect from that to which the singer belonged, who has, at any rate, taken no account of it except in a very general way. Felber's numbers are given for reference. He discusses the melodic structure of these chants in his third chapter (pp. 38-43). No. 427. Sung by a Brahman priest in Calcutta, forty-two years old, born in Jodhpur. Original text : Mahi trīņām avar astu dyuksam mitrasyāryamņaḥ | duradharsam varu[ņasya] | Translation : May the mighty aid of the three gods be ours-the help of Mitra and Aryaman and the invincible Varuna. Felber. No. 427. J=79. Sempre glissando, piano.

Ex. 857.

ma-hā - i - trā i - nā

ma a vā ra-stu dyuk-sam mã

i trā sya ya-ma-nāh

du -r -ā dha sa . ma

va va - rau-ho vā syo -

268 THE SĀMAN CHANT

Molto allegro.

hã ma - hi t-rī - ņām a - va - ra - stū -

3

e dyuk - şam-mi-tra - syā · rya - m - ņāh

du -r - ā - dhã r - sã m va-ra-u .

This example (No. 427), and three others (Nos. 428-30) which it has seemed unnecessary to transcribe, shows, like the Madras example just given, little more than the scale of the Rgveda (see line 28 of the diagram on p. 259):

Ex 358.

the F being, on the whole, the most prominent note.

Felber 443. Sung by two Brahmans of Tanjore aged forty and seventeen-a priest and a student in Madras.

Original text: punānah soma dhārayāpo vasāno arșasi | ā ratnadhā yonim rtasya sīdasy utso devo hiraņyayaḥ ||

Translation :

Purified, O Soma, by drops, thou movest concealed in the waters; rich in treasure thou residest in the womb of the sacrifice, a golden fount divine.

Felber. No. 443. =106. Agitato.

Ex. V

pu- nā na - h SO . ma dhã - rã . . yā

1G3 po vasā . na - ā sā si .

rā . t - na dha - h yo ni mṛ-tā ..

THE SÃMAN CHANT 269

sya sa dã sĪ ut-sā h dā - i-vo ... .

hi - rā nyā yā - h.

Felber, No. 444. Another version of 443, sung by the Madras priest alone.

Original text of the second verse : duhāna ūdhar divyam madhu priyam pratnam sadhastham āsadat | āprchyam dharuņam vājy arșasi nrbhir dhauto vicakșaņa ||

Translation : Milking the honey he loves from heavenly udders, Soma took his seat on his ancient throne. Mightily thy stream empties itself into a vessel of honour, and purified from the touch of men thine eyes behold what is far away.

Felber. No. 444. d=116-149. Agitato. Ex. 860. f pu-nā-nah so .. mā . dhā - rã . yā . . accel.

ā po - sā - no a - r - sa - syā ra - tna-dhã yo .

a tempo.

ni - mr ta - sya sā i - da - sã - i .

hã u - vā ut-so de - vo hi - rā hā - i .

0 - hã u - vā nya - yā au - ho - vā

ut-so de - vo hā i - ra ņyā yā - h

270 THE SAMAN CHANT

accel a tempo.

ūt - so de-vo hi-ra-ņya-yo du-hā-na ū-dhardi-vi-yam ma-dhū - - pri-yām

0 hã u - vā prat-nam sa-dha-stha-mā hã

0 hã u - va sa - dā t au ho

ST

va prat-nam sa-dha-stham sā dā - t

accel.

prat - nam sa-dhā-stham ā - sa - da - dā pr - cchya-ndha-ru-nam vā

a tempo.

• ji - yā r - sa - sa i 0 hā u - vā

nr-bhir dhau-to vi-cā hā - i 0 hā u - vā

ksa - ņā au ho - vā ..

The scale of these two (Nos. 443 and 444) is the same :

Ex. 361.

the melodies pivot on F and D. The chromatic beginning of No. 444 is quite common in secular singing, from which it seems to have been imported here, in order to establish a tonic. The two which follow show a different scale :

No. 426.

Ex. 362.

No. 425.

Ex. 368.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 271

The F# is essential in No. 425 and accidental in No. 426; in both it is used chromatically, which is on the whole unlike secular song. I heard something like it in Madras, but was unable to note it. Two chants were sung: one distinctly chromatic, described as ucca (high); the other as distinctly diatonic, described as nīca (low). I was more than once asked by the singer whether he should sing in the ucca or the nica voice; and it seems possible that he may have been referring to a difference of scale rather than of pitch- ucca G F# Ft E, &c., nica (G) F E D, &c.

No. 426. Sung by a boy of fifteen in the Sanskrit College, Calcutta. The text is not from the Rgveda, but a stobha, i.e. composed not of verses but of jubilations consisting of sentences and alleluias. (ho-i, &c.). In the Pada form : ut nayāmi ādityam ādityam prāñcam yantam ut nayāmi ahorātrāņi ahaļ rātrāņi aritrāņi dyauḥ nauḥ tasyām asau ādityaņ ādityah īyate tasmin vayam īyamāne īyāmahe [. . .].

Translation : I bear aloft the advancing sun, I bear it aloft; days and nights are the oars, the sky is the ship. On this fares forth the sun; and with it we are borne to that well-loved spot whose name consists of three letters. Note. That which is named in the adoration of om (spelled a+u+m), which is an image of the world of Brahma.

Felber. No. 426. =88. Sempre accel. Ex. 364

un - na-yā - mi ho - i un - na - yā - mi ho - i

un - na - yā - mi ho - i ā - di-tyam prāñ-cam tam un - na -

• yā-mi ho - i ā - di-tyam-prāñ-cam tam un · na-ya - mi ho - i

a - ho - rā - trā - trā - nya-ri ho - i a - ho - rā - trā - trā -nya-ri ho - i

272 THE SÃMAN CHANT

dyaur - na -ru hā - u dyaur-na-ru-hā - u dyaur - na-ru-hā - u

tas-yām - a - sāv - ā - di-tya .. i · ya - te hã - u

tas-yām - a - sāv ā di tya ya - te - hā - u

tas-min va-yam ī - ya - mā - na ī - yā - ma-he ha - u

tas-min va - yam ī - ya-mā - na i - yā - ma-he hā - u J=120.

i - yã - ma - he hā - u ī - yã ma - he hā - u.

No. 425. Sung by a boy of twelve, a Brahman, in the Sanskrit College, Calcutta. The original text is: mūrdhānam divo aratiņ prthivyā vaiśvānaram rta ā jātam agnim | kaviň samrājam atithim janānām āsan naņ pātram janayamta devāḥ || The translation : The chief of heaven, the lord of the earth, Agni Vaiśvanara born of the sacred truth, wise, almighty, the guest of man-him it was whom the gods created as our chalice for their use. Note. The sacrificial ghee is poured into the fire (Agni) which bears the gift up to the gods, that is, the fire is the vessel which conveys it to the mouth of the gods.

Felber. No. 425. = 731. Ex. 865.

hã u hã hã - u ā - jya - do - ham - ma

ā - jya - do - ham-ma ā - jya - do-ham - ma mūr - dha-nan-dā - i

THE SÃMAN CHANT 273

va - ra - tim pr - thiv - yã - h vaiś - va-na - rā - ma

3

r - ta - ā jā · ta - ma - gnī · ma ka vi - m sam-rā

jā ma - ti - thiñ - ja - nã - nã ma san nah pā

trā - añ - ja - na-yan - ta de - va - h hā - u hā - u hā - u

ā - jya - do-ham-ma ā - jya - do-ham-ma ā - jya - do hā - u - vā

e ā - jya - do - ham - ma e ā - jya - do - ham - ma

e ā - jya - do hā ham - ma. 0

NOTATION. The various systems are all modern-of the last few centuries, perhaps; and that followed in one MS. would not help to the elucidation of another. The signs employed are sometimes letters which appear to be abbreviations of technical terms, some- times numerals which bear some as yet unexplained relation to the ordinals of the Saman scale. They are written over the syllables of the text to indicate the substantive (prakrti) notes, between them to indicate grace-notes (vikrti), practically the 'ligatures' of Plain- song. Secular music has also till quite lately, the last century, dispensed with notation ; and it must be remembered that a written notation would be a hindrance rather than a help when everything was learned by heart 1 or extemporized. The form of the chant is recalled in its proper order by the aid of

1 I saw in Mysore a guru who had received 10 for his life's work of com- mitting to memory the text and the melodies of the whole Sāmaveda. 1495 T

274 THE SĀMAN CHANT

half a dozen sticks a span long, arranged much as we might arrange matches to mark whist-points.1

TECHNICAL TERMS (taken from R. Simon's Puspasūtra) : atikrama (transilience), disjunct motion, i.e. Thirds, Fourths, and Fifths in ascent and descent. The actual intervals prescribed by the Sāma-paribhāșā (quoted by Simon, p. 516) are shown in white note-heads; those actually employed in. Exner's examples in black.

Sāmaparibhāșā (S. Indian notation). Ex. 366.

Calcutta examples.

Ascent.

Madras examples.

Sāmaparibhāsā.

Descent. Calcutta.

Madras (none). N.B .- It will be noticed that leaps are commoner in ascent than in descent and in the Calcutta chant than in the Madras.

udūha (upper completion) is the name for the upper consonant (samvādi). 1 See Haug, Ait. Br., vol. ii, p. 185, note, and p. 238, note; also Burnell, Ars. Br., pp. xxviii and 105.

THE SĀMAN CHANT 275

roha is a general name for ascent of one or more notes. The modern term for an ascending passage is ārohaņa, for a descending, avārohaņa. . svāra (lit. relating to sound), the cadence, used whenever the last syllable of the final section (nidhana) has the svarita accent. Examples : Ex. 367

karsana (lit. dragging, rubbing), the lengthening of a syllable by interpolated notes, is applied only to long or augmented (vriddhied) syllables. The most usual forms, though there are other varieties, are : Ex. 368

abhigita (approaching note). Usual form :

Ex. 369.

udghāta (elevation). A downward appoggiatura, e.g.

Ex. 870.

vinata (crooked), a special case of abhigīta

Ex. or karsana Ex. 871. 372.

pratyutkrama (attack, initial step) is a progression to the next note above. Eight cases are given : 1 Ex. 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

The definition does not appear to state, what seems evident, that in this progression one syllable is sung to two notes, that it is, in fact, the podatus of Plainsong.2 No. 8 of these plays a great part in Rāga (see p. 158). These examples clearly presuppose the tetrachord E D C B, not F E D C. gati (gait, passage). The lengthening of a syllable by the vowels i or u, e.g. ho -- hoi-hoyi. 1 We recognize in this semitonal elevation or depression the law of the mediaeval Musica ficta, which substituted a rising and falling semitone for a rising and falling tone. 2 A good many of these figures find, of course, their analogues in the Neums, a list of which is given on p. 24 of H. B. Briggs's Elements of Plainsong, 1895. T 2

276 THE SĀMAN CHANT

atihara (extremely long syllable, prosodial term). The carrying over of a syllable by means of a jubilum (stobha), e.g. ba- (auhova)-rhīșī. parran (division). The smallest unity of a verse; practically, what can be sung in one breath, hence, musically, a phrase. rirama. The caesura at the end of a phrase.

MELODIC FIGURES. Mention should also be made of a method of handing down the traditional manner of singing. Melodic figures which constantly recur are directed to be sung after a certain well- known pattern. For instance, the cadence to the first line of the first hymn (given above) is :

Ex. 374

ba-rhī sI Other syllables, then, which have this particular cadence are said to be ' done like hīsī'. Thus :

Ex. 875.

jā yi sā yi bhã yir

Herr Simon gives about 100 examples; but until the Sāmaveda notation has been exactly interpreted it would be misleading to transcribe them.

If the cumulative effect of this evidence, chiefly circumstantial, may be said to have established any conclusion as to the original scale of India, we have found there, as in Greece, a starting point in a tetrachord of the form :

Ex. 876

E D C B (A G F E)

It is interesting to ask what is the musical justification of this particular series of notes, and of their development. The music is purely vocal; no instrument is employed : and vocal scales are conceived downwards. They are so conceived because the telling notes of the voice are in its upper register, and this presents

THE SĀMAN CHANT 277

itself therefore as the starting point1 for a vocal scale. In its search for consonance the ear hears in the first instance only quintal, not tertian, harmony, as was explained on pp. 123 foll. Quintal harmony provides only Fifths, Fourths, and major Tones. It has been shown on p. 150 that in looking for harmony to a given note the Fifth occurs first in an upward series, but the Fourth in a downward. A vocal scale, conceived downwards, establishes therefore the Fourth before the Fifth, the tetrachord before the pentachord. The intermediate notes can only be filled up by major Tones, for no other interval is as yet present to the ear. As soon as the major Third is heard it corrects no doubt one of these major Tones into a minor Tone. In proceeding beyond this tetrachord there is nothing, apparently, in the nature of things to decide whether the F above should be first added, as consonant to C, or the A below as consonant to D. The F was, as a fact, added first. This is seen to be a result of the circumstance that the E was a graced note. It was, if we may judge from the modern secular usage (see Chapter VII), seldom sung pure; an upper note was, so to say, inherent in it; and this deter- mined to an F rather than an F# owing to the C below. The A was added also; but, as the interest of the chant lay at the other end of the tetrachord, this A became more or less atrophied, and a G was never added below it. Meanwhile the F inherited the musical importance which had attached to the E, and the tetrachord F-C competed with the tetrachord E-B for supremacy. It was here that the Greeks parted company; and the reason for their doing so is instructive. They continued their tetrachord A-E upwards through a Bb and downwards through a D, but we do not make out that the tetrachord Bb-F ever attained any sort of eminence in their song. The Bb did not come into their scale as a 'graced' A, as the Hindu F was a graced E. For they aimed at singing their notes pure, as Aristoxenus tells us.2 They regarded

1 The Hindus named the upper terminal of the tetrachord graha (beginning) and the lower nyāsa (end). 2 He is contrasting (Harm., ch. 10) the continuous (syneche) motion of the speaking voice and the motion-by-interval (diastēmatikēn) of the singing voice, and says, 'In speaking we avoid bringing the voice to a standstill (i.e. a pure note) unless we force it to that in moments of feeling. But in singing we do the opposite; we avoid continuous motion, and aim at making the voice, as far as possible, stationary '-i. e. we sing our notes not 'graced ' but 'clean'.

278 THE SÃMAN CHANT

their Bb therefore merely as a consonant to the F below, not also as a kind of heightened A. To return to the Hindus. The F, having inherited the prestige of the E, took on grace in its turn. But here a difficulty arose : should the grace-note have the same relation to the F as the F had to the E, and determine to a Gb (F#), or should it be consonant to the D below, and appear as a G? Both notes were taken in; and the scale had now two distinct sections : that from E downwards which was formed diatonically, and that from E upwards which was formed by grace, i. e. chromatically. These had distinct characters, and were distinguished as we saw by the names nīca and ucca (p. 271, and Exs. 362, 363). Moreover, the chromatic (ucca) style of singing is peculiar to the Smaveda, where it had, as we see, an efficient cause, and is not found in Rāga, where that cause is absent. A purely vocal scale is so foreign to our music that, though we may understand it, we have difficulty in feeling its musical force. The following melody from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book (i. 144) appears to be in such a scale; and its constituent notes happen, curiously, to be exactly those of the Saman scale :

The woods so wilde.

Ex. 377.

Those writers on the modes who insist that the last note of a song must be the tonic would be delighted to find in this a rare- probably the only-instance of a Locrian (Mixolydic). But a tonic F gives a much better sense; and indeed Orlando Gibbons has harmonized it, if it was he, like a bagpipe tune on F and G pedals, though it must be confessed that harmony of any kind sadly impairs its delicious inconsequence and irresponsibility, and a calcu- lated close on B does much to clip the wings of its fancy. There is an abundance of tunes, too, which seem to have no definite tonality and to be divided in their allegiance to different tonics. Here is one from Böhme's Altdeutsches Liederbuch, p. 729 :

THE SAMAN CHANT 279

St. Ursula, Königstochter von England.

The essence of the melody is that E is the predominant note; that it closes in A minor rather than C major is of the nature of an accident. In both these melodies we see the marks of a vocal scale not only in the high tessitura and the indefinite tonic, but in the way they tend to ascend by leap and descend by step.

CHAPTER XI

FORM

THAT principle of balance by which the several parts of a song, whether it lasts half a minute or half an hour, stand out from one another in strong contrast and yet help, each of them in its way, to build up the general sense of unity-that ordered disposition of its component parts by which music travels to an inevitable climax, neither postponing it nor anticipating it, and thence to a close- that variety which gives flesh and blood to the bare bones of struc- ture-all this is 'Form'. Form is, however, rather an instinct than a principle, and it is dangerous to follow it too much into detail, because a composer may at any moment wrap his principle in new detail and justify it by success, and then analysis is apt to boggle. Still, even instinct must work in elements of design which make on the whole either for variety or for unity, or which can be so used as to do the one or the other. The primal unity of our system is the tonic chord, and in a larger scheme the tonic key; and the sense of contrast reposes primarily in the dominant and subdominant chords and keys. These again can become unifying forces with related keys supplying contrast. It would be impossible for our music to get away from this as long as it continues to be harmonic, since all these chords are by implication in the triad itself (major or minor), and, by extension of its meaning, many others. The primal unity of the Hindu system is similarly the tonic note, or drone; and the sense of contrast is supplied primarily by the amsa, that note in which the lie of the song, its tessitura, centres, and the notes which are related to this (1) as consonants, samvādī, (2) as passage notes (anuvādī, vivādī) between the consonants. But whereas the dominant was implied in the tonic, and while con- trasting with it still made for unity, the amsa stands out against the drone (kharaj1) as a matter of choice, and so makes for contrast ; and yet since the varying relationship (in the different Rags) of the 1 Kharaj is a vernacular form, througl sad(a)j, of sadja (Skr.).

FORM 281

amśa to the kharoj, its relative distance from it, is what gives its special character to the song, this very contrast may be said also to impart unity, the unity, namely, of that particular Rāg ; and thus the general unity of the song proceeds not from intrinsic necessity, but from freedom of choice. The first thing in a song is to put this relationship of the amsa and kharaj beyond doubt. This is done by the Alāp (prelude). The notes of the Rag are sung not in strict time, but in a loose kind of rhythm regulated by the convenience of the breath and by the amount of ' work' that is to be got on to the notes, and sung not to words, but to vocalizing syllables-Na, Ma, Ta, Ra, La, &c. The 'work' consists in elaborate graces, calculated to make the most of the important notes of the Rāg; and in order that these may be given with due impressiveness the Alp is taken at a slow or a moderate pace. Grace thus used to put the important notes in inverted commas is called mūrchhana. It is obvious that the Alap is a real necessity both for performer and listener; without it the listener would spend his time for some part of the song in ignorance of its tonal centres, and the melody would be for him an aimless running up and down hill, while the performer would, with- out a little preliminary practice, very likely play a note or two which was out of the Rag, and that would upset the 'unity' altogether. The scheme of the song proper, in its full shape, is as follows : S. INDIA. N. INDIA. 1. Pallavi, 'germ', 'sprout'. First 1. Astai or Sthāyi, 'at home'. subject, focussed on the amsa. 2. Anupallavi, 'after-germ'. Second 2. Antara, 'interval', meaning per- subject, focussed on the 'con- haps change of voice-register. sonant', generally the upper consonant. 3. Caranam, ʻ moving about '. 3. Sancāri, 'alternation'; our 'de- Phrases taken from the Pallavi velopment'. and Anupallavi to which the extra stanzas, if any, are sung. 4. Return to the Pallavi and close on 4. Return to the Astai, and close the tonic (śruti) or Fifth above. with the first note or phrase of the song, and for choice on the tonic (kharaj) or amśa. This re- turn is sometimes called Ābhōg, ' coda'.

282 FORM

This is the form in South India for the full-fledged Kīrtanam (Vkr, celebrate). The Kriti (perhaps from the same root) has no caranam, and this seems to be the more usual form in North India. The theme of the following is a repeated three-bar passage (Cherarūvademira) with a link phrase (Rāmayya). In No. 3 variation the first bar of this is expanded to four, and in No. 4 to eight bars. The original theme is then dropped, and taken up again in No. 9. In Nos. 11, 12 comes a suggestion of the theme of the anupallavi, which follows at No. 13 at the upper consonant Bb, the pallavi having cireled round the amsa, Eb. Indian theory would not of course allow that the At of the anupallavi involved a change of Rag. That note is introduced only to form the 'strong' tetrachord (see Chapter XII), but the effect is indistinguishable from what we should call a key contrast. The caranam begins with phrases of the pallavi and ends with those of the anupallavi, and is preceded and followed by the cadenza. Words. A girl is singing :- Pallavi. Why do you not come to me, O Rama. Anupallavi. O infinite God, strong as Mount Meru, I can no longer bear (to be without you). Caranam. A fatherless and motherless child I pray to thee, I call on thee, I beseech thee, my own Lord. Again and again I cry in my sorrow to thee, my own dear Lord. Ah! with what yearning I gaze upon thy face, fair as the lotus. I send my petition to thee in strains that Tyāgarāja has made. Cherarāvademirā, by Tyāgarāja (worđs and musīc). Rāgam Rītigaula. (Aeolo-dorian.) Tālam Deśādi (2, beginning on the up beat). Devotamente. J = 72. Ex. 379.

Che - ra - rā - va - de mi - ra . Ra - ma-yya Che - ra-rā - va -

de mi - rā Che-ra -rā - va - de mi -

3

ra &c.

FORM 283

4

6 5

8

10

L.

11

12

284 FORM

FINE. A Anupallavi. 14

Me-ru-gā - du-rā i - ka ma - hã

15

16 Svarā.

ga-ma pa-da-ma pa-ga ma ga-ri-sa ni sa-ni

ga - ri-sa ga-ga ma-ma ni-da-ma ga-ma ni-ni - sa ni-sa ga-ga-

ma ga-ri ga-ga-ri-sa ri- sa ni da-ma-ga-ri . ni sa-ga ga-ma Che

ra - rã va - de mi rā Ra-ma-yya Che-ra-rā - va-

Carana.

de mi - ra Ta-lli tan-dri le ni bā . .

17 18

la

19

FORM 285

20

21

22

23

24 25

26

27

ga - ma pa - da - ma pa - ga

ma-ga-ri-sa ni - sa-ni ga - ri-sa ga-ga ma-ma ni da-ma-ga-ma

ni - ni - sa ni-sa-ga-ga ma-ga-ri ga-ga - ri - sa ri - sa - ni da-ma-ga - rl

ni-sa- ga ga-ma Che - ra rā va de mi D.C. al Fine.

ra Ra-ma-yya Che-ra - rā - va - de . . mi - rā .

A few particulars of the different styles of song, collected chiefly from books 1 are here given. The distinction between them seems

1 Pingle's Indian Music, Rajah S. M. Tagore's Reprints from various Authors and Universal History of Music.

286 FORM

to rest principally on the words, secondly on the time, hardly at all on the tune, but a good deal on the general form. The oldest forms of Hindu song are the Pada and Bhajana. The Pada is generally some pithy saying taken from Sanskrit verse and enlarged upon. The Bhajana, 'adoration', is connected with Bhakti, 'faith in a personal God', 'love for him as for a human being, the dedication of everything to his service, and the attainment of moksa (emancipation) by this means rather than by knowledge, or sacrifice, or works'.1 The Bhajana specialized in the Krishna literature ; and as the Bengali Kirtana does the same they may be classed together. The former is a religious recital in which the congregation sing all the time under a leader, Bovā (' man of piety '), and takes place between sunset and sunrise. In the latter the leader has a long story to tell, of a dramatic nature, and the con- gregation act as chorus. Its invention is ascribed to Chandīdās, a native of Birbhaum, the birthplace of Jayadeva; it is mentioned in the Ain-i-Akbari. With it is associated the mystery play, Jāttrā, which circled round the love of Krishna and Rādhā. The typical form of Hindu song, a development of the Padu and Bhajana, untouched by Mohammedan influence, is the Dhrūpad (Dhruva-pāda-dhruva, 'firm', 'enduring'; pāda, 'quarter-verse'; Dhruva is a name also for the 'constantly recurring verse' or 'burden' of a song). The Dhrūpad has a free masculine character ; its words are religious, but not exclusively so. It is in slow time, and in selected Tüls-Surphakta, Chautal, and Dhamar-the ionic and anapaestic metres in fact; and since to perform it requires a good command of the breath, there is a saying-'The man who has the strength of five buffaloes, let that man sing Dhrūpad'. When there is any doubt about the exact form of a particular Rag, appeal is made not to the Sanskrit authorities, but to the traditional form of Dhrūpad. In that the Rag is to be found in its purity with its mūrchhanas (the 'consonant' notes ornamented); a Rāg without these is called hil or Dhun. But the Dhrupad is free from other grace-notes; and since these are considered essential to Hindu song, the Dhrupad is somewhat at a discount ; it is considered, for instance, unsuitable for public performance. Further, since most songs demand a compass of two and a half octaves, and since this can only be attained by falsetto, this kind of voice is prized 1 L. J. Sedgwick, in the Journal of the B. B. R. A. Society for 1911.

FORM 287

for its 'liveliness', and the natural (dhruva) voice neglected; so that Dhrupad singers are apt to form a special class. The great representative of the style was Rajah Man of Gwalior (died 1518). Another old form is the Katha, or sermon in song. A text from the Rāmayana or the Mahabharata is intoned (in about an octave of notes) and then expounded in the speaking voice and in the vernacular by a Kāthaka. Another is the Kabi, a song of question and answer, such as the Garhwāli songs, pp. 50, 51. It is a popular form in the villages, and became in the eighteenth century a favourite in higher circles, when question and answer were elaborately prepared instead of being impromptu. The commonest type is the Khyal, a later form of Dhrūpad, supposed to emanate from Mahmud Sharqi of Jaunpur (1401-40). It is a song (Chija) or an instrumental piece (Gati) constructed of variations on, or rather episodes relieving, a short phrase; a Rondo in fact. The Khyal ranges from a very simple little song to the following, which with its compass of three octaves probably repre- sents the extreme of elaboration. Its highest development belongs to the Mohammedan period ; this, Kaba ho kapī, is from the Panjab, where there are few but Mohammedan singers. The theme is variously treated on its three or four dozen appearances, and is not so monotonous to listen to as it is to write or to read, and the playful sweep of the episodes (tāna, 'divisions' in our eighteenth- century sense of the word) has nothing clumsy about it. The Khyāl is generally a love-tale and supposed to be sung by a woman; the procedure of love-making is in India, as so many other things are, the reverse of ours. It is the typically pathetic . form of song. Malkos. Velambit. Tīntāl. Ex. 380.

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pī ra gho ..

w

wen - ge Ka-ba ho . ka - pĪ .. me - re

na nā tī - ba se rā . . . cha-ko- ra pī

288 FORM

kā śa - śī mu - kha de kha - na . .

wen ge Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī .

A A Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī

A A

W

Ka - ba ho .. ka - pī . A A

Ka-ba ho . . ka-pī . . A

A A

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pi A

A A

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pi .

A A

FORM 289

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pi A

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī . A .

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī .

Ka-ba ho . ka - pī

Ka-ba ho ka-pi

Ka-ba ho . ka-pī A

1495 U

290 FORM

A

Ka-ba ho ka - pi Ka-ba ho .

ka - pi rā gho wen

Ka-ba ho ka-pī ra- gho a - wen - ge

w

Ka-ba ho ka - pĪ Ka-ba ho .

ka - pī . .

W

rā - gho a - wen - ge . Ka-ba ho . ka - pī .

A

FORM 291

Ka-ba ho ka - pī A

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pī A

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī A

Ka-ba ho ka - pī A

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pi

Ka-ba ho . A .

W

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pi . . me -re nai nā A. .

me - re nai nā . . A

me -re na ná . .

W

IST

A A

me - re nai . nā . . .

U 2

292 FORM

me-re na na cha-ko - ra pi -

ti - ba se ra . .

Ka - ba ho . ka - pi

. .

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pi .

Ka-ba ho ka - pī rā - gho ā - wen ge

FORM 293

Ka-bahoka-pī rā-gho ā wen-ge . Ka-ba ho . ka - pī .

Ka-ba ho ka - pī rā - gho ā . wen - ge

Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā-gho ā - wen-rā - ge

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī

Ka - ba ho ka - pī rā gho ā wen - go

Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā-gho ā-wen-ge Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā-ghoā - wen - ge

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pī . . Ka-ba ho ka - pī

rā gho wen - ge

Ka-ba ho ka-pī Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā - ghoā wen -

3

ge Ka-ba ho ka - pī .. rā - gho ã - wen - ge

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pī . . . . . . . . . .

294 FORM

.

3

Ka-ba ho . ka pī

2 3

. . .

3

Ka-ba ho . . ka-pī .

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pi

. .

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pl ..

Ka-ba ho ka-pī

FORM 295

rā-gho ā wen- .

ge Ka - ba ho .. ka - pī rā . . gho ā

wen - ge Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī . .

Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā - ghoā-wen-ge .. Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā - gho ā - wen - ge.

3

Ka-ba ho ka - pī Ka-ba ho

ka - pī rā gho ã - wen-ge

Ka-ba ho ka-pī .. rā gho ā - wen - ge . Ka-ba ho . . ka - pi .

A . . . .

Ka-ba ho ka - pī

A .

. Ka-baho .. ka-pī . . . .

296 FORM

Ka-ba ho Ka-pī .

ra gho wen-ge Ka-ba ho ka- pī rā-

gho ā - wen ge Kaba ho kapī rāgho āwenge Kaba ho kapī rā - gho āwen-

ge Ka-ba ho ka - pi ka - pĩ rā - gho .

wen . ge Ka-ba ho ka- pī rā - gho ā - wen-

ge Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā-gho ā - wen-ge Ka-ba ho ka-pī rā-gho ā-wen-

3

ge .. Kabaho kapī rā-gho ā - wen - ge A

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī A

.

.

FORM 297

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī .

rã gho wen-ge

Ka-ba ho ka-pī .. rā - gho

wen ge . . .

.

. .

Ka-baho .. ka- i.

1

298 FORM

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī A

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī

3

. . .

.

Ka-ba ho .. ka-pī

FORM 299

Ka-ba ho ka - pī

Ka-ba ho . ka - pī .

Ka-ba ho . . ka - pī .

Ka-ba ho .. ka- pī .

Ka-ba ho . ka - pī

Ka-ba ho . .

Ka-ba ho .. ka - pĪ.

Three other Hindu forms are the Sargam (for Sa, Ri, Ga, Ma), called also svarāvarta, or surāvarta, and in the South Svara, a passage sung to the Sol-fa names instead of to words, taking the place of our cadenza; the Tarana (Tillana), the same thing with drum-words instead of Sol-fa syllables, and the Trivata, the same thing to nonsense-words; and lastly the Caturañga ('in four sections') con- sisting of Khyāl, Tarāņa, Sargam, and Trivața. The Thumri, love-song, is of Hindu origin. It is in the Vraj bhasa. Vraj is the district round Agra and Mathura, the scene of Krishna's juvenile adventures. The music is lively and adapted to

300 FORM

pantomime or dancing. The subjects of Thumri's are : (1) beseech- ing the lover to be propitious, (2) lamentation over his absence, (3) imprecation of rivals, (4) laments over the watchfulness of the mother-in-law and sisters-in-law who prevent meetings with the lover, and over the tinkling bells of anklets imposed by jealous husbands to prevent clandestine visits, (5) appeals to female friends (Sakhīs) for help to secure an interview, (6) Sakhīs reminding their friend of the appointment and exhorting her to persevere. The typical Mohammedan song is the Tuppa, see pp. 188, 189. The trill (Hindost., mūrki; Urdu, zamzama), considered to be suitable to the female voice, of which the Tappa is full, and the marked rhythm are the Mohammedan contribution. The Mohammedan invasions did for India what the dissolution of the monasteries and the Civil War did for English music (see p. 84). The Tappa is exclusively in Hindi and Panjabi. It recites the loves of Hir and Ranjha. It was brought to perfection by the songstress Shori (reign of Mahmud Shah, circ. 1700). It consists, like most Hindostani songs, of two movements (tuk), the Astai and Antara. The Rekhtu, another form of it, contains up to a dozen couplets. Other Mohammedan songs are the Ghazal (words Urdu and Persian) and the Dadra (confined to the lower classes). Both are in § time, but commonly syncopated, J J. In the Ghazal the lover makes a woful ballad to his mistress's eyebrow : Why not praise your moles more than the stars ! Those are the ornaments of the cheeks of my beloved. The white of early dawn radiates from your cheek ; The darkness of the night is a part of your waving hair. Since I was fated to moan in separation, O God, Why did I fall in love with one so beautiful ? Your eyes with their long lashes were quite enough, Their side glances were not necessary for my annihilation. Do you not understand that you will be alone after killing me ? Yet even the dust of my grave will cleave to you in my stead. The times are such that, in spite of all that I have said and sung there is no justice in this world. There are also songs of local fame such as the Abhangas, Omvis, and Povadas of the Maratha Tuka Ram, the first two religious, the last warlike; and the Karkhas, the war-songs of the Rajputs. The Kirtanam and the Khyal that have been given above represent the highest flights of the professional musicians (Ustads). Ordinary

FORM 301

singers are content with humbler songs; and the following have been selected, out of twice their number in the books of the Poona Gayan Samaj (singing school), many of them for their beauty, others in order to give an idea of the principal Rāgs and Tāls.

SPECIMENS OF RAGS.

Lydian. Hypolydic. Hindol. Rupak. 2+4. Ex. 381. Astaï.

Antara.

Kalyāna. Tevra. 3+2+2.

Ex. 382. Ast

Ast.

Bhūp[kaliān]. Rūpak. Ex. 38

Ast.

Ant.

302 FORM

Hamirkalian. Rūpak.

Ex. 384

Ast.

Ant. Ast.

Ionian. Lydic.

Shankarābharaņa. Tevra.

Ex. 385. Ast. Ant.

Ast.

Nārāyaņī. Tevra. Ex. 386.

Ast.

Ant.

FORM 303

D.C.

Bilāvala. Titai. Ex. 387.

(The girl I left belind me.)

Kedara. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 888. Ast.

Ast

Kedāra. Tīntāl.

Ex. 889.

Ast.

Ant.

Kedārā. Eka Trisra. Slow. 1st. Ex. 890. Ast.

2nd.

Ant.

304 FORM

Kedāra. Dhamār.

Ex. 391.

Ast.

Ant.

Kedāra. Rūpak.

Ex.

Ast.

Ant.

Mixolydian. Hypophrygic. Jhinjoti. Eka Trisra. Ex. 893.

Ast.

Ant.

Desh. Eka Trisra. 1st. Ex. 394

Ast.

2nd.

Ant.

FORM 305

Desh. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 395

Ast.

Ant.

Sorat. Tital.

Ex.

Ast

Ant.

Sārang. Rūpak. Ex. 397.

Ast

Ant.

Khamāj. Adi.

Ex. 398.

Ast.

Ant

1495 X

306 FORM

Dorian. Phrygic. Kāfi. Dhamār.

Ex. 399.

Ast.

Ant.

Kāfi. Rūpak. Ex. = 400.

Ast.

Ant.

Bahār. Rūpak. Ex. 401.

Ant.

Bageshrī. Rūpak. Ex.

Ast.

Ant.

FORM 307

Myachā Malhār. Chautal. 4+4+2+2. Ex. 403.

Ast.

Ant.

Malhār. Tevra. Slow. Ex. 404

Ast.

Ant.

X 2

308 FORM

Bhimpalāsī. Chautal.

Ex.

Ast.

Ast.

Ant.

Bhimpalāsi. Tintal.

Ex.

Ant.

Aeolian. Hypodoric. Malkos. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex.

Ant.

Dhanāshri. Rūpak.

Ex. 408.

FORM 309

Ant.

Dhanāshri. Tital. Ex. 409.

Ant.

Āsāvarī. Rūpak.

Ex. 410.

Ant.

Āsāvarī. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 411.

Ant.

Āsāvarī. Dhamār.

Ex. 412.

Ant.

310 FORM

Darbarī Kānadā. Chautal.

EX. 413.

Darbāri Kānadā. Rūpak. Ex. 414

Ant.

Darbāri Kānadā. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 415.

Ant.

Kānadā. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 416.

Ant.

FORM 311

Pilū. Rūpak.

Ex. 417.

Ant.

Pilū. Rūpak. lst 2nd. Ex. 418.

Ant.

Phrygian-Doric.

Bhairavi. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 119.

Ant.

Bhairavi. Rūpak. Ex. 420.

Ast.

Ant.

Ast.

312 FORM

Bhairavi. Rūpak. Ex 421.

Ant.

Special Indian modes. Rāmkalī. Tital.

Ex. 422.

Rāmkalī. Rūpak

Ex. 428.

Kalangada. Tital. Ex. : 424.

Jogi. Jhamra. 3+4+3+4

Ex. : 425.

FORM 313

Bhairau. Chautal. Ex. = 426.

Todi. Rūpak. Ex. 427.

Todi. Chautal.

Ex. 428.

314 FORM

Multani. Jhamra.

Shrīrāg. Rūpak. Ex. = 430.

Shrīrag. Surphakta.

Ex. 431.

Pūrvi. Rūpak.

Ex.

Gauri. Eka Trisra. Slow.

Ex. 438.

FORM 315

Sohani. Tital.

Ex. 434.

D.C.

Paraja. Rūpak. Ex. 435

Lalat. Dhamār. Ex. 436

316 FORM

Lalat. Rūpak.

Ex. 437

Maravā. Rūpak. Ex. 438

Māravā. Tintal.

Ex.

Pūriakaliān. Triput. 3+2+2. Ex. 440.

FORM 317

A European has great difficulty in giving himself account of these queer modes, because of the enormous difference between having the tonality condensed into a few contrasted chords and having it spread over a melody in successive notes which are epi- tomized as a scale. There is, however, a step between chord and scale in the arpeggio, as we may observe when immature pianoforte players sound the left hand before the right. It is useful some- times to consider chords as scales, and scales as chords. Our harmony has gone through three ehief moments in its history: the diminished seventh, the augmented triad, and now the whole tone scale, or chord,1 have successively been regarded as the limit of permissible dissonance. Their double nature, scale and chord, becomes clear if we write them out as arpeggios :

Diminished Seventh. Augmented Triad. Ex. 441.

Whole tone chord.

From this point of view the modes too may be considered. The three chords just mentioned are practically statements that new notes are taken into the major scale (of C): the diminished seventh introduces Ab, the augmented triad D#, and the whole tone chord Eb and C#. Other chords have, as they have appeared, introduced these or other notes.2 The tonality of a scale may be quickly shown by taking all the constituent notes which are not part of the tonic chord, putting them upon the dominant note, and resolving them into the tonic. We will treat the principal modes thus in succession :

1 The writer is indebted for this word to Dr. Walford Davies. 2 The first eleven bars of Tristan introduce into C minor F#, G#, C#; A4, Et; D', and Cb.

318 FORM

Lydian. Kaliān. Alahīya. Ionian. Jhinjoti,

Ex. 442.

Khamāj. Ionian. Mixolydian. Kāfi. Malhār. Dorian.

Asāvari. Pilu. Aeolian. Bhairavi.

Ramkali. Phrygian Non-European (Bhairavi). (Rāmkali). Todi. Paraj.

bo ----

Shrī. Gauri. Pūrvi.

Lalat.

Then Kaliān again.

FORM 319

In this kinematograph of the modes they are seen to be each an isolated moment in the whole musical experience; or, to reverse the picture and the metaphor, the modes make a kind of stellar photograph of our harmony. The notes that give us difficulty are the F# and the Db; the former yields freely, the latter persists surprisingly. In our scales we know two leading notes, upward to the tonic (Bt) and downward to the dominant (Ab). These modes show the other two, downward to the tonic (Db) and upward to the dominant (F#). But the whole of our harmony is based, of course, on the fact, which the ear, however, only gradually endorses, that any note may be treated as a leading note in either direetion. It is in the same way that the ear endorses these extreme modes; to plunge suddenly into one of them is to be completely baffled. We have to take them as the native ear does, as extensions of some other more familiar mode, as accentuations of its poignancy, or as heightenings of its exhilaration.

CHAPTER XII

MELODY

He will put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes and forget to mention the fact, but he may weep at the breaking of a pencil point. And as his poems come he knows not whence, so he is content to let them fly he knows not whither. You ask for yesterday's masterpiece, and it is not to be found. 'Did I write that,' he asks with Shakespearian negligence, 'and was it really good ? Never mind, l'll do you another.' The Perse Playbooks.

AND now if some one should assert, and we were inclined to humour him, that the Hindus, having worked at the laws of melody for at least 3,000 years, must have something to teach us, what eould we say in his support? 1. First that melody, both time and tune, is in a mode; that is, that it must be homogeneous, and that nothing can be allowed in it which would destroy that homogeneity. We also recognize this in our tunes, though it would not in every case be easy to say how or why. We realize that a melody is good in proportion as every- thing in it is in keeping ; we at least feel that something is wrong if we patch two melodies together, thus: BEETHOVEN. Ex. 443.

MOZART.

Here the second half seems to defeat rather than to supplement the first, because the descending thirds, though they balance, do not develop the ascending, and the repeated quaver motion is mono- tonous. Or, if we reverse the process, MOZART. BEETHOVEN. Ex. 444

MELODY 321

the one note we do not desire after the first section is the high Eb ; but we get it three times, and the climax consequently drags. Also the sixth bar going over exactly the same ground as the third at half the pace forms an anticlimax. The homogeneity of a melody is based differently with them and with us. The musical sentence is in both cases made up of salient and abeyant notes, just as the verbal sentence is made up of nouns and verbs in prominence, and the other parts of speech in subordi- nation. But with them the salient notes are fixed by long associa- tion; with us they are made such by the momentary impulse of the harmony or counterpoint. The distinction is not unlike that between verse and prose as the chosen vehicle of a people's litera- ture; poetry fills a form which is brought to it, and the words assert their value by fighting against it, though they yield to it; prose creates its own form in the process of uttering itself, and this form emerges from the conflict and balance of phrases rather than of words. In the same sort of way individual notes have in modal music their value as filling out with detail a form already supplied, while for harmonized music points of structure, such as melodic figures, have value as creating and articulating form as the music proceeds. In the first it is the note, in the second the cluster of notes that is to be true to 'mode'. Still, phrases after all are made of notes; and just as the notes of Hindu melodies must be 'in' an assigned mode (of tune or time), so must the notes of ours, if they are to be strong, have a firm diatonic and rhythmic basis. Chromatic notes easily become sentimental-become 'weak forms of strong things'-when they are unduly dwelt upon and distract attention from the big words of the sentence (as in the march of the Persian soldiers in the Fall of Babylon), not when they are there only to make intelli- gible the big words which without them would be too startling (as in 'O du mein holder Abendstern').1 Diatonic is, of course, an expansive word. The diatonic scale is not the same to one generation as to the next, any more than modes are stereotyped

1 But we may fancy how, when later on these startling words had become commonplaces to him, Wagner may have smiled contemptuously at the greasy effect of the chromatics, as perhaps the mature Browning may have regretted the false note struck by the first word in the pretty jingle of ' Menace our heart ere we master his own'. 1495 Y

322 MELODY

for every time and place. But inside the accepted diatonic the notes must move as a compact whole, or the melody become hetero- geneous. Again, they must have a firm tread along some high road of rhythm whatever flowers they may stay to gather by the wayside or whatever excursions they may make to points of interest. Rhythmic strength lies in subordinating the attractive figures to the steady march of the whole, not in pursuing them for their own sweet sake (as in some of the more dreamy episodes of Mendelssohn's Fugues), nor in hunting them to death (in the various forms of Rosalia). These principles, which we recognize as the foundations of our melody, we find more naïvely formulated in the systems of Rāg and Tāl, much as we read in Plato simple statements of the eternal problems of ethics and politics. These systems lay it down that chromatic alterations can only take place on the weak (alpa) notes of the scale, that is, in unessential places; and that, though any amount of cross-rhythm is permissible, it must justify itself by resolution at a particular point (the sam). 2. Melody proceeds by step (conjunct) or by leap (disjunct). In Indian melodies the disjunct intervals amount to 10 per cent. and the conjunct to 90 per cent. We will deal first with the 10 per cent. The surprising thing in Indian melodies is their frequent use of intervals which appear difficult to us. We consider, for instance, such intervals as : Augmented Diminished Third. Augmented Second. Fourth. Ex. 445.

to be unvocal, but they employ them quite commonly. What makes intervals vocal is the fact that the note to which the leap is made is familiar. For us, it is made familiar chiefly by its forming some intelligible harmony with the note which is quitted. We can realize this in the phrase at the end of Brahms's Mainacht:

Ex. 446.

Und die ein - sa - me Thrä ne bebt mir

heis - ser, heis - ser die Wang . her - ab

MELODY 323

The leap 'die Wang'' is peculiarly dissonant; it consists of two diatonic semitones, which are greater than, a whole tone by 20 cents; but it is made intelligible for us because it is a passage from the Neapolitan Sixth to the dominant chord, which is a perfectly familiar sequence. The other leaps are all justified to our ear as harmony notes. But if we look at an Indian melody, one in Bhairavi, for instance :

Bhairavi. Ex. 447.

of which the sixth of the scale (Ab) is amsa, with Eb for its con- sonant, we see that the leaps are mainly to those notes, or round them, but not anywhere else. The tune swings between these two, generally in conjunct motion but with an occasional leap to one or other of them, and comes to rest between whiles on the tonic. Intervals as constituent parts of chords hardly ever occur, because chords form, for an Indian, no intelligible relationship. The explanation of the augmented Second and diminished Third is that they are felt as conjunct intervals, not disjunct. The augmented Second is familiar to us in this sense in the ' harmonic' minor scale :

Ex. 448. Neh-met hin mei-nen Leib, Neh-met hin mein Blut

auf dass ihr mein ge-denkt.

The Bh has here a melodic appropriateness after the Ab which the harmony immediately seizes upon and justifies; the harmony by itself (on double basses and drum) forms but a weak link. In Indian melodies the augmented second occurs also when the note Y 2

324 MELODY

between is transilient, that is to say, omitted not merely on that occasion but as a regular thing. The following instance in Sohani :

Sohani. Ex. 449.

Sā vi - ra - he ta - va di na mā - dha-va

Sā vi - ra - he ta - va dī nã .

mā - dha - va ma - na - si - ja vi - śi - kha bha - yā di - va

bhã - va - na - yā tva - yi nā . .

Scale.

consists almost entirely of conjunct motion. The G is transilient, and the F# optionally Fh. (This is the Poona form; elsewhere the Ab is also At. Cp. Ex. 264.) It contains therefore, as conjunct intervals, one diminished Third (F#-Ab) and two augmented Seconds (Db-E and Ab-B); there is also a disjunct interval, the diminished Third, B-Db. The amsa is E, the consonant B, and the melody swings between these two, making a pause on or otherwise empha- sizing the tonic, C, on occasion. Hindus have said to me more than once that they like Wagner best of our music, and one sees perhaps in these two melodies a point of contact. The augmented Fourth and diminished Fifth, which we avoid, are common with them. Although any sequence may be justified by its context, yet we consider on the whole the first interval slightly vulgar, and the second a little mawkish as melodic pro- gressions, perhaps because they emphasize unduly the notes of a rather trite harmony. Where harmony is non-existent there can be no such feeling, and they are freely used in the following melody between the amsa, Db, and the Fifth of the scale, G :

Gaula.

Ex. 450.

MELODY 325

No less surprising than the presence of intervals which seem to us unvocal is the comparative absence of what we should call vocal intervals-the Thirds, Perfect Fourth and Fifth, and the Sixths. All these occur, but again are limited, as a rule, to leaps which approach a salient note. Such a passage as :

SCHUBERT. Ex. 451.

Das Wan-dern ist des Mül - lers Lust, das Wan - dern.

would be very unlikely to occur in their music. There would be no way of hitting the diminished Fifth ('ist des') unless the D were the amsa; and if it were, it would be impossible that so important a note should occur only once, and at such an insignificant point of the phrase. The intervals at ' Müllers Lust' would be practicable if C# were amsa, but they would not be at all typical, as the Third is which immediately follows ('Wandern'). A Third, in fact, is habitually taken as a changing note :

Ex. 452.

or a grace-note : Ex. 453,

or, especially in ascent, in a sort of tentative way :

Ex. 454

indeed, in any way but as a harmonic interval :

Ex. 455

326 MELODY

To continue Schubert's tune :

Ex. 456.

Das muss ein schlech - ter Mül - ler sein, Dem

nie-mals fiel das Wan-dern ein.

Here there is nothing unvocal from an Indian point of view, but the phrase repeated totidem verbis at different levels is not in their manner. A reason for this may be that their melodies swing from salient note to salient note, and that if the salient notes were in the important places in the first phrase they would not be so in the second, and vice versa, so that the point of the contrast would be lost; it would be like reading poetry thus :

The young men march before him in all their strength and pride, The tender little infants they totter by his side.

It is conjunct motion that Hindu practice, rather than theory, accounts the stronger. It has been maintained 1 that melody tends to be developed along the line of the common chord. This appears to be the case in some parts of the world, among the Chippewas, for instance :

Ex. 457.

but it is emphatically not the case in India. The reason may be that there is more real contrast to be got out of step than leap; because the step must often be to a consonant interval, and in that case the second note repeats to some extent what has already been said by the first. It has often been noticed that Beethoven's melodies are full of conjunct motion-the great tune of the Choral Symphony, for instance, which matured during half a century with Goethe's Faust; and perhaps this motion was what he admired in our national anthem when he undertook to 'show the English'

1 See Oskar Fleischer, Ein Kapitel der vergleichenden Musikwissenschaft, in the first quarterly volume of the International Music Society, p. 17.

MELODY 327

what a fine tune they had-though they have hardly been as grateful as they should have been; perhaps, too, the injudicious use of disjunct motion accounts for some of the insipidity of the tunes of Shield, Henry Bishop, and T. H. Bayly, and the judicious admixture of both kinds of motion for the virility of Arne and Purcell. Conjunct motion, too, is eminently suited to the speaking voice, which makes small changes in pitch; moreover small intervals seem to be more effective than large against a drone, as may be seen in Schubert's Leiermann. The song has contained plenty of disjunct motion, but in the last line :

Ex. 458. Und sein klei - ner Tel - ler bleibt ihm im - mer leer.

where the maximum of effect is to be produced, it becomes suddenly conjunct. Before we leave this point there is one thing that their songs have in common with our Folk-songs which seems worth mention. When a rising or falling Fourth is bridged by a passage note, this is usually nearer to the note which is being quitted than to that which is being approached. Thus :

Ex. 459.

are commoner than

Ex. 460.

The fact that the former kind is preferred suggests that such motion is really the stronger melodically of the two; and this seems to be borne out also in our music. We realize how much is lost by the not infrequent substitution of an A for the second note (G) in 'The bonny banks of Loch Lomond '.

Ex. 461.

328 MELODY

We feel also that Beethoven's

Ex. &c. 462.

is better suited to a reflective Andante con moto, but Brahms's

Ex. 463.

to an austere ' first movement', and Mozart's

Ex. 464.

to a robust Allegro molto. 3. This leads to another point. The typical forms of ascent and of descent are apt to differ in one and the same Räg, which is then called ' crooked' (vakra). The Hindus are most strict about the observance of the type. Its origin probably lies in this tendency which we have been discussing-the tendency to choose, between two consonant notes, the note of passage next to that which is being quitted, thus :

Ex. 465.

Its effect certainly is the avoidance of tautology and anticlimax. There are plenty of instances in our melody where this principle of contrast is not employed, because the harmony can supply all the contrast which is required : Ein' feste Burg. Ex. 466.0 ¢ P P Upper tetrachord of tonic. Lower tetrachord of dominant.

BEETHOVEN. Quartet, Op. 18, No. 5. Ex. 467.

To dominant. To tonic.

But there are others in which a different form is adopted for ascent and descent, and consequently the contrast which harmony offers can be dispensed with :

MELODY 329

SULLIVAN.

Ex. 468.02

Take a pair of spark-ling eyes

The whole of this departs but little from tonic harmony, and the main contrast lies in the scale :

Ex. 469.

But a large number of these ' crooked' forms of Hindu Rägs con- sisted in creating gaps in ascent to be filled up in descent, or vice versa. This not only avoids anticlimax, but induces climax. To pass over a note immediately creates a desire for it, and it then becomes a fit note to bear the climax :

BACH. Ex. 470.

BACH. Ex. 471.

BACH.

EX. = *

BACH. Ex. 478.

In the first three cases the notes marked (*) have only been heard as passing notes, and now they are made substantive; in the last case three of them have not yet been heard at all. There are special reasons, no doubt, for constructing the theme of a fugue in this way, but incidentally it has great melodic point. Two notes are similarly kept in reserve in the tune of Sullivan just given, and they (F and Ab) are the making of it. Similarly also in the 'Swanee River' the 7th and 4th of the scale are kept in reserve, in 'Come lasses and lads' the 4th, in 'Farewell Manchester' the 7th; whereas the 'Vicar of Bray' and the 'Bay of Biscay' put all

330 MELODY

their goods in the shop window. The last line of Schubert's 'Wandern', again, Ex. 474. das Wan - dern, das Wan - dern. where the D, hardly heard previously, now comes by its full rights, is a peculiarly grateful instance of this, and gains by the repetition of the phrase. 4. What gives its peculiar flavour to a melody, what defines more than anything else the character of a particular Rag, is the position of the amsa. Round it, and round its consonant or correlative (samvādi)-a note at the distance of a Fourth or a Fifth from it -- are grouped the phrases of the song. They derive their meaning, their point, from their relation to it. It is easy to see that the character of a phrase would completely alter according as the amsa, the salient note of the scale, were made the salient note of the phrase, or not. The amsa may be at any place in the scale, not excluding the keynote or drone note. The first section (astai) of the tune usually circles round the amsa and the second (antara) round its consonant. The aesthetic effect of a high and a low amsa is quite different, and in this respect the amsa and all that it implies may be compared with what we know as tessitura, though that is rather a 'range' of notes, whereas the amsa is a single note. Over against the amsa stands the drone note, or keynote (kharaj). These two notes divide between them the functions of our tonic. Hindostani music is apt to begin on the amsa, and to end, if not there too, on whatever was the first note, or the end of the first phrase, of the song. This leaves the melody, to our ears, in the air. In the Carnatic music it is the rule, rather than the exception, for the melody to end on the drone note, or its Fifth. Yet, even so, the drone note has not the finality of our tonic. When the amsa is at F, for instance, any meaning that we could attach to a tonic is utterly driven out of C. The purpose of the drone is rather to maintain a steady level by comparison with which the amsa appears as high (and the tune spirited) or low (and the tune reflective). This is a conception which is and must remain foreign to our music as a whole; it is impossible for us to put any note besides the tonic in this position of ' central' except the Third or the Fifth; and to build tunes only on that principle would limit the possibilities

MELODY 331

enormously. Still we may realize the idea of this centre in those of our tunes in which the Third or the Fifth is so treated. Many of Mozart's circle round the Fifth and gain their sprightly character from that fact : Andante. Sonata.

Ex. 475.

and

Andante. Eb Symphony. Ex. 476

Allegro. Quartet.

EX 477.

All our composers have been fond of the Third as ' centre', in slow movements especially; it will be enough to look at the melody of the Finale of the Choral Symphony :

Allegro assai. BEETHOVEN.

Ex. 478.

The ' central' note is F#; and there is a skill in the way in which it is made central without being monotonous. It is central both

332 MELODY

because of the frequency of its use, and because, though the tune lies mainly above them, this is balanced by the dramatic drop to A at the climax. But it is not monotonous because (leaving aside repetitions of phrase, which are not strictly repetitions of note) it is never treated twice exactly in the same way although it occurs eight times; either the note is on a different beat of the bar, or of a different length, or it is an ascending instead of a descending phrase. And these are exactly the principles-position of central note, variety of metre, and contrast of ascent and descent-which India says are at the bottom of good melody. The amsa need not, and frequently does not, occur in a melody any oftener than other notes; nor indeed need any of the other salient notes. But their presence is felt in the appoggiatura, which they render possible. It is difficult to imagine any system of music which did not give an important place to this the most emotional element of tune; the Chinese tunes seem, indeed, to show small trace of it; but we have not yet, perhaps, very trustworthy records of them. The Hindu tune to be quoted presently shows half a dozen instances of appoggiatura, and the poignancy of

Adagio molto. BEETHOVEN, Rasoumoffsky Quartet. tr

the tender grace of BRAHMS, Aeolsharfe. Ex. 480. Ihr kom - met, Win - de, fern her - ü - ber, ach, von des

Kna-ben, der mir so lieb war, frisch grü - non-dem Hü - gel.

and the impetus of BRAHMS, Magelone Lied. Ex. 481. Wie soll ich die Freu - de, die Won - ne denn tra - gen?

are closely bound up with this device. We may learn of this possibility in an Indian tune too, but we cannot instinctively feel it, because the Räg is not ringing in our

MELODY 333

ears. We do not know, we have to be told, that in Behäg, for instance, B and E are strong and A and D weak notes, before we feel the force of the appoggiatura in :

Ex. 482.

But if we cannot select any other than these two notes (the Third and the Fifth) for ' central' note, because to do so would upset our tonality, and if to confine it to these two notes and insist upon it in every tune would cramp our harmony without securing for our melody any compensating variety, yet, on the other hand, harmony can establish a 'centre ' anywhere and everywhere in a tune at will, and some of the most exciting tunes are built entirely on this change of centre (not of tonic); as, for instance, Brünnhilde's apostrophe to Grane at the end of the Götterdämmerung,

Espressivo. Götterdämmerung. Ex. 483 f ₽

f f

cres cres f where, though the tonic, E, is clearly felt throughout, the ' centre' moves upwards to a climax,

Ex. 484.

and in so doing forms a broad 'inner' melody of its own, upon which an identical figure is carried up, and by its identity gives to the tune its unity. This cannot be done in Indian melodies because each note has a fixed meaning, not, as with us, one assignable by the harmony at will. In them an identical figure, when it is transferred to another

334 MELODY

part of the scale, takes on a new meaning, because its relationship to the amsa has been altered. Consequently a principle of structure is then lost to Indian music. The Hindu melody has to get what symmetry of structure it can-and it will be seen presently that this may be a good deal-in spite of the fixity of the note values. As a result their melodies have, apart from the fact that they are of an extempore nature, less cohesion than ours. 5. With regard to rhythm Hindu melodies tell us two things. First, that variety of metre is more important than variety of accent, and secondly that cross-metre greatly enhances the interest. With us, too, variety of metre is a sure mark of a strong tune. There is the often cited violoncello sonata of Beethoven : Allegro ma non tanto. BEETHOVEN, Op. 69.

Ex. 485.

in which no two bars have the same metre. An even better instance pcrhaps is : SCHUBERT, Wanderers Nachtlied. Ex. bb 486. 4 Ü - ber al - len Gip-feln ist Ruh.

Other themes attain the variety by syncopation : BACH, Wohltemperirtes Clavier, No. 43.

Ex. 487

But the truth is that we have not attached much importance to the breaking up of metre. One reason for this may be that, both for the sake of clinching the tonality and also because of the variety which is thereby obtained, we love to contrast different levels of pitch; and the best way of making this difference of level felt is to

MELODY 335

keep the melodic figure constant. This may easily degenerate into a mannerism.1 But the most infallible and effective way of lending interest to a theme is by cross-metre. PURCELL, 'I attempt from love's sickness to fly.' b EX 488.

d

c d

The pairs of phrases overlap. In each case the ictus of the phrase is shifted, thus : (a) (b) (c)

Ex. 489.

At (a) and (c) the reply arrives a beat late, at (b) half a beat early, and at (d) it is prolonged; and the result of it all is a flowing five-bar rhythm, a wonderful instance of art concealing art.

1 The greatest sinner in this respect is Tschaikowsky who, in examples too numerous to need quotation, works some poor little rhythmical figure literally to death ; and the same is also true of a large number of Franz's songs, of Für Musik, for instance : FRANZ, Op. 10, No. 1.

Nun die Schat-ten dun - kel, Stern an Stern er - wacht:

Welch ein Hauch der Sehn - sucht flu - tet durch die Nacht!

336 MELODY

In the Andante of Brahms's 3rd Symphony the whole theme is built on a subtle cross-rhythm : BRAHMS. 3rd Symphony. Andante. (Expanded.)

Ex. 490

(Expanded.)

(Contracted.) Expanded. )

(Still more expanded.)

The slow movement of Beethoven's seventh violin sonata may be simplified thus :

Adagio cantabile. Ex. 491.

b

d

The four phrases marked a, b, c, d have this in common, that they all make the high or the low F the climax of the rhythmical figure (it might almost be called the amsa). They also increase in sweep and complexity. But the point here is that they are ' strettoed' -- that the F in c and d increasingly antedates its arrival, and that the cross-metre which this involves does much to heighten the interest. We will now put side by side a good specimen of each system, for comparison of method, not of merit. For it must be remembered that the Indians do not make 'tunes' in our sense; all they do is to display Rāg and Tāl. Still, most of those given in the last chapter are tunes with a beginning, middle, and end, though it may be doubted whether a Hindu would consider them to be typical of his music at its best. Florestan's air from Fidelio eompresses the

MELODY 337

maximum of point and balance into four bars, and a singularly beautiful tune in Rāg Kānadā attains with curious felicity a more ornate symmetry in sixteen :

BEETHOVEN. I II III IV

Ex. - 492.

i iii iv

Following the skeleton given below the tune, the four sections are of equal length (practically three crotchets) but iii begins one quaver late, and iii and iv overlap. The A in iv is an appoggiatura for G, and is to be considered as a long G. The semiquaver in III corresponds to the acciaccatura in II. Then, ii repeats i in double time, at a higher level, preceded by a link note; iii reverses ii; iv repeats ii at the level of i, doubling the time of ii (quadrupling the time of i) and lengthening out the link note. Again, I is unadorned, II adds a semiquaver (acciaccatura), in III this becomes two semiquavers, and in IV three semiquavers. There is not a single note which is not doing duty. What makes this closeness of structure possible is that harmony allows of any note being taken at any interval; in an Indian tune, for instance, if the leap in II were possible that in IV would be less possible, and vice versa, and that in III would be impossible in any case; or again, if the downward progression in II were possible the upward in III would very likely not be so in that particular Rāg. Now we will take this tune in Rāg Kānadā, which is obviously well balanced; but before it is dissected and its beauty explained away the reader is recommended to turn back to p. 310, Ex. 416, and enjoy it. It is set to a delicately constructed Omvī (a Maratha form of verse), of which the English is unfortunately not forthcoming. The words are :

Māgo sān gītălēņ | lākșănēņ Mūrkhā ān|gīņ cātăļryă bānē Ātēņ ē|kā săhāļnē ăsō- nă mūrkhă

1496 Z

338 MELODY

and the scansion : Ma Ra Ra Ma Ta Ya Ma Ra Ra [Ma Ta] Ya (see p. 196.)

The bars in the music follow this scansion roughly, the first and second lines being farsed with a ' jubilation ' (see p.255); but beyond this the music pays, as far as its structure is concerned, no attention, as indeed our best melodies do not, to the poetical form; it only sees that a long syllable is provided with a long note as ours see that a stressed syllable comes on the musical accent. The tune has 16 bars; 5+5 in the astai, and 6 in the antara. There is thus a suggestion of cross-metre (4 time and 5 time) in the general plan. The astai ascends to a climax for three bars and descends for two (twice over); the antara does the same for three and three bars, enlarging the intervals for its downward sweep from the second (the higher) climax. The amsa of Kānadā is Eb, with consonant note Bb above and below ; and at these places the most conspicuous figure (marked ) is introduced. The astai is con- cerned only with the lower tetrachord, the antara (until the final cadence) only with the upper, according to rule. Kānadā is one of the Rags with a queer intonation (see App. II); but though that makes it more difficult (and more beautiful) it does not affect the question of structure :

Astai. Ex. 493.

Mã - go san - gl ta - līn la - kśa - neņ B

B

Mūr - khã an gin cā - tū - rya bã -

Antara. a

• ne à - tãn e - kā . śa - . . . . B .

MELODY 339

B a

hā ne a SO na mūr kha.

The main interest here centres in the metrical plan. This is based on a contrast of what we may irreverently call pot-hooks and hangers. They are marked a throughout, placed for the former below the stave and for the latter above. A succession of these makes up a section which is understood to be A in contrast to B. B is itself an expansion of a; it is a trisyllable as against a disyllable, an opposition which we saw to be important in verse. But for fear the a's and B's should become monotonous they vary in length; the a's are of 2, 3, or 4 quavers, the B's of 6, 7, or 8. The ' pot-hooks' have on the whole the best of it in the astai, but the 'hangers' drive them off the field in the antara; B acts as an impartial umpire, giving decisions in favour now of one side now of the other. The ingenious way in which in the first five bars the last note of the ascending metre is made the first note of the descending melody is worth notice. It will be seen here too that, though on quite different principles, not a note is idle. It is true no doubt that these tunes could be analysed in quite other ways, and equally true that their respective composers never thought for a moment of this or any other analysis. But it is only by analysis that those of us who are not composers can realize such a complex thing as the act of composition. The point is that a tune is not a tune at all until it has something that we must call closeness of structure. It might seem as if nothing could be less fettered or more impulsive than melody ; beauty is there-wherever it is that tunes come from-and the composer has only to stretch out his hand and seize it. Man's will is free, no doubt; but he is bound by his own past-in a tune, as in anything else; his tune must be a related whole, just as his life must be a consistent one. That is what is meant by structure. The closer the structure, the more lasting the pleasure which the tune gives; and to make such tunes is art, through whatever conventions. These two tunes epitomize for us the music of West and East. On the one side a repression of what is petty, a rejection of what is transient, a soberness in gaiety, an endurance in grief. On the Z 2

340 MELODY

other a vivid insight, the eager quest after wayside beauty, the dexterous touch that turns it to account. The one seems to say- Life is puzzling, its claims are many, its enthusiasms hardly come by ; but we will hammer out a solution not by turning away from ugliness but by compelling it to serve the ends of beauty. The other-Life is simple, and beauty close at hand at every moment whenever we look or listen or wherever we go; the mistake is in ourselves if we do not train our eyes and ears and hearts to find it. Who would wish to decide which way was the best? Both are human. There is no need to decry one in favour of, or to exalt one at the expense of the other. Are those Europeans who smile at 'tomtoms' sure that they understand the grounds of their faith in their own musie? And are those Indians who scoff at Equal Temperament, at the dullness of European song and the screaming tones of the European voice, able to reach the governing prineiples of their own art through the mass of tradition and imagery in which it has become involved ? Art expresses. It finds words or tones for what was hitherto unnamed; it actually calls into being an experience which has not previously existed; it does not communicate to us, or acquaint us with, an antecedent experience. And what it expresses is the fact of emotion, not particular feelings. It is not that words or tones cannot indicate these, but that directly they do so the result ceases in so far to be a work of art. That music can, as most would agree, express emotion more immediately than other arts, depends on the fact that 'in its ideal, consummate moments, the end is not distinct from the means, the form from the matter, the subjeet from the expression; they inhere in and completely saturate each other ; and to it, therefore, to the condition of its perfect moments, all the arts may be supposed constantly to tend and aspire'.1 But if music at its best obliterates those distinctions, it will be at something less than its best when it maintains them. Thus both the 'popular' music which exalts matter at the expense of form, and extreme 'absolutism' in which the form dwarfs the matter, depart, to some extent, from the ideal. Indian music knows perhaps less than ours of this falsehood of extremes. It seldom descends to the merely popular because it refuses to eompress itself into a square tune, something that you can earry away with you like an 1 Pater, The Renaissance, 1904, r. 139.

MELODY 341

umbrella, and, as Corney Grain used to add, 'it doesn't much matter if you never bring it back'. Nor has it the deadly insistence of the cook's song in the We're Here, which was ' like something ever so bad but sure to happen whatever you did', because it is never sung twice in the same way. Nor is the tune a mere adjunct to the words, as rhyme or alliteration are to an advertisement, for the words are set to the tune, not the tune to the words. On the other hand, it seldom runs riot in absolutism. Since it is vocal rather than instrumental, melodic and not harmonic, it seldom travels far from those broad human requirements which gave, in song, the first impulse to musical expression, and which, through whatever subsequent developments, still form its ultimate justifica- tion.1 Since concerted song is rare the personal element is not put in commission, and the appeal of the music is therefore more immediate. At the same time it never ceases to be a purely musical appeal. For whereas in our songs development has pro- ceeded increasingly on other lines than those of pure melody,2 in India the singer's tones can still carry all the artistry which his mind can conceive. And while in England, especially, concerted music has always been highly prized, and rightly so, for its social element,3 it is apt to fall short of the highest ideals, since it is never so easy to find an artistic crowd as an artistic individual. Again, the fact that in India the composer and executant are one and the same person, brings it about that he sets, as composer, no problems which he cannot, as executant, himself solve, and that mere academicism is non-existent and that his songs 'come off'.

1 A string quartet, for instance, which may be taken as our highest achieve- ment in absolute music, still finds its final justification in the fact that the instruments individually or collectively 'sing', that is, are employed upon phrases which are thoroughly 'vocal' in all but the grace of words. Modern composers seem increasingly to ignore this fundamental of their art and to forget to 'sing'. If they will not take warning by the fate of Spohr's saccharine harmonies and of Berlioz's evasion of the main issue, they can expect no immortality. 2 Since Schubert the centre of interest has been more and more transferred from the voice part to the accompaniment. To hear the accompaniment alone would give a better idea of the composer's thought than to hear the voice part alone. The latter would, in fact, be wholly unintelligible in a large number of modern songs, especially in those which aim at creating atmosphere or at elaborating niceties of declamation. 3 And there is something, therefore, to be said even for the Crystal Palace and other monster concerts.

342 MELODY

When all composition is improvisational, and when notation is rarely employed for recording music and never for performing it, there can be no such thing as 'visual' music-music which makes a pretty pattern to the eye but disappoints the ear; and of this we have a surprising number of examples in the madrigal period, and it is by no means unknown in later times.1 The Indian practice, described on page 85, of setting the syllables of the words to notes which bear the same Sol-fa syllable, is quite as childish; but it appeals, at any rate, to the ear, not the eye. Are there not singers amongst us who have felt a desire to break loose, if it were possible, from the trammels of our tonality-from its ' closes' and ' half closes', its ' conceded modulations', its 'unity of design', its rhythmical rigidities and its fussy logic-and to let the melody bear them along on light wings of fancy; to find, in fact, a music which is free like that of the woods in spring-time, where, without rule, the uncouthest tones like the crudest colours all harmonize, where, unguided and unthwarted, sound and silence answer one another, where the inchoate and incomplete are made good by the motherly bounties of Nature, and ' unbroken perfection is over all'? Something of this is in the careless profusion and the unstudied rapture of Indian song : Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.

1 See an article by Alfred Einstein, Monthly Journal of the International Musical Society for October, 1912.

APPENDIX I

THE scale of twelve notes, as given on p. 86 of the Introduction to the Study of Indian Music, is here written out, distinguishing the notes derived from quintal harmony by capital letters and those from tertian harmony by small letters, and placing above them the available commnon chords : G ab C ab D eb e F a Bb b C Major.

G b C e eb G ab C Minor.

C db D eb e F gh G ab a Bb b C This scale is the plagal form of the Sa-grama beginning on F; hence the notes are g, a, and B>, instead of (as from C)f#, A, and b. F was chosen as a more convenient starting point than C because then all the 'black' notes can be called flat, instead of one of them being an fr. Taking the scale as it appears above, it will be observed that no chord but a first or second inversion can stand on D, e, Bo, or b; so that none of these notes could, if harmonized, be used in a prominent or a final sense. The writer suggests, however, that these 'natural' harmonies would be sufficient for the harmonization of Indian melodies. With regard to this suggestion, attractive as it sounds, there are several difficulties. In the first place, there is no such thing as natural harmony. Nature 'gives' a note, with its Fifth a good deal fainter, and its Third much fainter still. We make the three notes of equal loudness, and call them a chord. But Guido d'Arezzo did not get so far as that. Adam de la Hale did not hear the Third as a satisfactory note. Josquin des Prés could not endure the minor chord as final. Palestrina inserted the minor chord at that place, but surreptitiously altered it to major. Bach, in the first part of the forty-eight Fugues, prefers on the whole the Tierce de Picardie. Beethoven's favourite ending is in the unison-like Guido's-which, indeed, is all that can truly be called 'natural'; and that is not a 'chord'. With- out wishing to press the word ' natural' too far, the argument goes to show that the employment of the very first chord is the knell of modal melody. Secondly, the modes (Rāgs) all have an amsa, and this amsa is seldom the drone note. In the many Rāgs in which the amsa is at e, or a, the melody would have to close on a minor chord; when it is at e the final note, which the amsa as a rule is, could only bear a second inversion ; when at b (as in Behăg) it could have no chord at all. It would not be possible to end the melody (in this last case) on b with an e minor chord below it, for that would make the e really final instead of the b, and so falsify the Rāg.

344 APPENDIX I

Again, is there not at the bottom of this suggestion a misunderstanding of the nature of harmony ? That was not a fortuitous thing, but directly necessitated by what went before it. There had been melody, with some notes salient and others in abeyance, upon a drone (explicit or implicit). To support the salient notes better the drone took other positions, and so, breaking up, became an independent part, long before any 'chord' was invented. To these two parts another drone was added, to form what was called the Triplum, which similarly broke up; and another, to form the Quadruplum. There is no thought of chords in all this; only of concurrent melodies, of whose successive moments chords were later generalizations. A chord cannot be used in music for its own sake, any more than can a word in language ; it has a before and after, and that is its only reason for existing. It would be a rash thing to say that the European method of harmony is the only possible one. All that can be said is that it is perfectly logical. This breaking up of the drone is, at bottom, the moment when the desire arises to contrast not one note with another, but one whole passage of the song with another passage, and that is the way in which music has always advanced. We saw something that looked very like this in Exs. 93 and 99. All that really happens in the second of these examples is that the mother and son sing the same tune at different pitches. But it reminds us of a stage in our own art when, as in the times before Tye and Tallis, in whose music there are still traces of it, the soprano and tenor parts had a flat less ' in the signature than the other two parts. And, lastly, would not this suggestion defeat its own end-the preserva- tion of just tuning-and lead after all straight to the accursed thing, Equal Temperament ? For as soon as harmony came to be valued for its own sake it would be impossible not to feel an enormous difference between, say, a major and a minor chord. If then, closing on a (in Imankaliān), the composer had nothing but an a minor triad and a second inversion at his disposal, could he resist the forbidden a db e, which is so near and yet so far? And if the db would not do, would it be long before he altered it- and then chaos ? Still, it is conceivable that a step in the argument could be jumped, and that a nation should go straight to harmony without first having felt the impulse which led to it, just as it is possible that Esperanto will become a living language although it is based on a different motive from that of all other languages on earth. The possibility depends on the actual achievements of composers in one case and of authors in the other, and it is vain to attempt to prophesy. But this question of harmony is only a side issue in a book whose main purpose is to establish the true principles of Indian intonation-a purpose which it excellently fulfils. And every one who is interested in the music of India will look forward eagerly to another by the same hand, which is perhaps hinted at on p. 4, containing a 'census of Indian Rāgas' grouped 'according to the principles of correct intonation'. If such a book appeared, written with authority, it would supersede all the books on the subject.

APPENDIX II

IT was not noticed until after the plate containing the Table of Rags had been set up that of the eight scales, which according to Ashreka (see p. 151) exhibit quarter-tones, the intonation had been correctly given only for the first two. The intonation for all the eight is as follows : G b 2. Bibhās C A C b b b b 26. Mālkos C E F Bb C b b b 33. Kānadā C D E F G A Bb C b b 35. Jogi C D Eo F G A B C b c b 36. Rāmkalī D E F G A B C

40. Todi b b G b 41. Multānī C D Eb Ab B C b 49. Māravā C b D E F A B C

BIBLIOGRAPHY

OF WORKS IN EUROPEAN LANGUAGES

GENERAL. 1. C. R. Day, The music and musical instruments of Southern India and the Deccan, London, 1891, pp. xvi, 173; 17 coloured plates,

S. Índia. gives a good general introduction to the subject as regards

2. A. M. Chinnaswami Mudaliyar, Oriental Music in European Notation, Madras, 1892, 36 pages of Introduction, 106 pages of musical examples. The Introduction contains much useful information. The ex- amples are carefully done, provided with marks of tempo and expression, and with words (Tamil, Telugu, and Sanskrit, which are often transliterated). Relates to S. India. 3. Bhavanrav A. Pingle (of Wādhwān, Kāthiāwār), Indian Music, Byculla, 1898, pp. xviii, 341, Index xxii; 2nd edition, is a mine of information on many details of performance; it suffers from obscurities of style, and the few musical examples are not altogether intelligible; it is the only good account in English of the music of N. India. Nos. 1 and 3 have long been out of print : a few copies of No. are possibly procurable. See also Nos. 5, 9, 13, 14, 15, 50, 52.

DESCRIPTIVE. 4. A. K. Coomaraswamy, Essays in National Idealism, Colombo, 1909, has twenty pages on music. 5. Mrs. Maud Mann, Some Indian Conceptions of Music, Proceedings of the Musicul Association, 1911-12, p. 41, gives an account of the S. Indian system. 6. Pierre Loti, L'Inde (sans les Anglais). Paris, n. d. 38th edition. Chapter v describes a concert. (See p. 11 of this book.) 7. Anne C. Wilson, A Short Account of the Hindu System of Music. London, 1904. pp. 48. See also Nos. 1, 3, 16, 44, 53, 54.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 347

SANSKRIT THEORY. 8. J. Grosset (Lyon), Contribution à l'étude de la musique hindoue, place and date not given, gives the Sanskrit text of the twenty-eighth adhyāya of Bharata's Nātyasāstra, with translation and notes. The date of Bharata is probably the fifth century A. D. 9. The Indian Music Journal (monthly), editor, H. P. Krishna Rao, Mysore, of which ten numbers have appeared, is translating Somanatha's Rāgavibodha (A. D. 1609). See also Nos. 20, 22, 23, 27, 41, 42-46.

MUSICAL EXAMPLES. 10. Max Wertheimer, Musik der Fedda, Journal of the International Music Society, Year XI, pt. 2, p. 300. 1910. Phonograms of songs of the Ceylon Veddas, closely analysed. 11. Charles S. Myers, Vedda Music, chap. xiii (pp. 341-65) of The Veddas by C. G. and B. Z. Seligmann. pp. xx, 463. Cambridge, 1911. Phonograms, closely analysed. 12. O. Abraham und Erich M. von Hornbostel, Phonographirte indische Melodien, Journal of the International Music Society, 1903-4, pp. 348-401, ignoring Indian theory, treats twenty-eight tunes simply as musical phenomena. 13. Ratan Devi, Thirty Indian songs, with texts and translations by A. K. Coomaraswamy. London, 1913. 7 illustrations. From the Panjab and Kashmir. This with its excellent transla- tions gives a better idea of the song as a whole than any other collection. 14. Rajah Sourindro Mohun Tagore : (a) The seven principal musical notes of the Hindus, with their presiding deities. Calcutta, 1892. pp. 51. 15. (b) Six principal Ragas with a brief view of Hindu music. pp. 88, App. xvi. 6 plates. Calcutta, 1877. 16. (c) The eight principal Rasas of the Hindus, with tableaux and dramatic pieces illustrating their character. pp. 161. 8 plates. Calcutta, 1880. 17. (d) The musical scales of the Hindus. Calcutta, 1884. pp. 118. N.B .- There are thousands of specimens (words and music) to be found in books in the vernacular; and, no doubt, hundreds could be transcribed by any musician who possessed a working knowledge of Urdu, Panjābi, Hindi, Gujarāti, Tamil, Canarese, or Malayālam, but more especially of Marathi, Bengali, or Telugu. Those which have been drawn upon for the present work are Vishnu Degambar's books

348 BIBLIOGRAPHY

(Panjabi), the books of the Poona Gayan Samaj (Marathi), and the hymns of the Brahma Samäj (Bengali), although it has not been thought worth while to print more than a few dozens of them. Even a smattering of Indian languages helps; it is useful to be able to recognize under the forms Dhol, Dholka, Dholaka, and Dolu the same instrument, and under Saurashtra, Surati, and Sorat the same Räg, and to be able to check to some extent the vagaries of proof readers. A great number of songs are contained in Sangita Prakasika, vols. i-viii, in progress. Calcutta (in Bengāli notation). See also Nos. 1, 2, 9, 22, 40.

SCALE.

18. Alexander J. Ellis, On the musical scales of various nations, Journal of the Society of Arts, March 27, 1885, pp. 485-527. The results for India are based on insufficient data, but the article is valuable as a conspectus of scale in general. 19. Ludwig Riemann, Über eigentümliche bei Natur- und orientali- schen Kulturvölkern vorkommende Tonreihen und ihre Bezich- ungen zu den Gesetzen der Harmonie. Essen, 1899. pp. 133. Gives full particulars as to the apparent scales of various instru- ments found in European museums. pp. 27-41 relate to India. 20. Krishnaji Ballal Deval, The Hindu musical scale and the twenty- two shrutees. Poona, 1910. pp. viii, 49. A careful study of intonation, based on the Sanskrit prescription and the practice of living musicians. 21. E. Clements, Introduction to the Study of Indian Music. London, 1913. pp. ix, 104. See also Nos. 1, 8, 11, 34, 42, 50, 52.

GRACE.

22. Richard Simon, The Musical Compositions of Somanatha critically edited with a table of notations [Lithographed MS. in Nagari]. Leipzig, 1904. pp. ii, 33. 23. Richard Simon, Die Notationen des Somanatha. A reprint from the Sitsungsberichte d. Königl. Bayer. Akad. der Wissenschaften, 1903. Heft III. 2 plates [facsimile]. Munich. These give the system of grace-notes adopted in the Rāgavibodha, with full explanations. The great authority on this subject (and on much else) is said to be a book in Telugu by Subrama Dikshitar of Ettyapuram, Tinnevelly; and there is a work in Bengali by S. M. Tagore, Yantraksetradipika, Calcutta, 1872, on grace as performed on the Satar, 317 pages with many musical examples. See also H. P. Krishna Rao, First steps in Hindu music. 1906. Weekes & Co. pp. 52.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 349

NOTATION. 24. O. Abraham und Erich M. v. Hornbostel, Forschlüge für die Transkription exotischer Melodien, Journal of the International Musical Society, Year XI, pt. 1, p. 1. Leipzig, 1909. 24 pages. 25. Charles S. Myers, The Ethnological Study of Music, in Anthropo- logical Essays presented to E. B. Tylor, pp. 235-54. Oxford, 1907. These two contain useful suggestions for investigators and col- lectors of songs in extra-European systems. 26. S. M. Tagore, Victoria-Sāmrājyan. Sanskrit stanzas on various dependencies of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Empress of India. Calcutta, 1887 [30 plates of unnamed instruments]. The melodies purport to belong to the various countries, and they are noted according to the Bengali system, in Nāgari characters and also in staff notation. See also Nos. 23, 42, 43, 46.

POETICAL METRE.

27. Albrecht Weber, Indische Studien, the eighth volume of the Beiträge für die Kunde des indischen Altertums. Berlin, 1863. pp. xii, 468, and index. A critical study of the earliest authorities, contains quotations from Sanskrit works relating to the earliest forms of the scale. 28. Rudolf Westphal, Allgemeine Metrik der indogermanischen und semitischen Völker. Berlin, 1893. pp. x, 502, and index. 29. Monier Williams, A practical grammar of the Sanskrit language, pp. 392-7. 4th edition. Oxford, 1877. 30. H. T. Colebrooke, Miscellaneous Essays. 1st edition. London, 1837. 2nd edition. Madras, 1872. 2 vols. I, pp. x, 419, 23. II, pp. 531, 31.

28. S. H. Kellogg, A grammar of the Hindi language. 2nd edition. pp. xxxi, 584. London, 1893. An account of Hindi metre at the end of the book gives examples (in Nagari) of the Dhrupad, Thumri, and others. 32. Hermann Oldenberg, Zur Geschichte der vedischen Anustubh. Zeitschrift d. d. morg. Gesellschaft. Vol. 54. pp. 181-94. 33. Josef Zubaty, Der Bau der Tristubh- und Jagati-Zeile im Mahā- bharata. Zeitschrift d. d. morg. Gesellschaft. Vol. 43. pp. 619- 52.

350 BIBLIOGRAPHY

34. Hermann Jacobi, Uber die Entwickelung der indischen Metrik in nachvedischer Zeit. Zeitschrift d. d. morg. Gesellschaft. Vol. 38. pp. 590-619. Leipzig, 1884. 35. Hermann Jacobi, Zur Kenntniss der Arya. Zeitschrift d. d. morg. Gesellschaft. Vol. 40. pp. 336-42. 36. Charles S. Myers, A study of rhythm in primitive music. Re- print from the Journal of Psychology, vol. i, pt. 4. pp. 10. Cambridge, 1905. 37. Hermann Oldenberg, Die Hymnen des Rigveda. Berlin, 1888. Bd. I. pp. vii, 545. Chap. i (pp. 1-190) deals with Vedic metres.

HARMONIZATION. 38. A. J. Polak, Die Harmonisierung indischer . .. Melodien. Leipzig, 1905. pp. 107. The first forty pages deal with India. 39. Abraham and Hornbostel, Uber die Harmonisierbarkeit exotischer Melodien. Journal of the International Musical Society, vol. iii, p. 138. Leipzig, 1905-6. 3 pages. An answer to No. 38. 40. A. C. Macleod (Lady Wilson), Five Indian songs. Edinburgh [1912]. The accompaniments have atmosphere. See also No. 17.

SĀMAVEDA. 41. Martin Haug, Ueber das Wesen und den Werth des wedischen Accents. Munich, 1874. pp. 107. Gives particulars about accents, notation, and the musical hand. 42. A. C. Burnell : (a) The Arsheyabrahmana (being the fourth Brahmana) of the Samaveda. Mangalore, 1876. pp. li. The introduction of fifty-one pages is in English. 43. (U) The Samhitopanishadbrahmana (being the seventh Brahmana) of the Samareda. Mangalore, 1877. pp. xx. Introduction in English. 44. Friedrich Chrysander, Uber die altindische Opfermusik, Viertel- jahrsschrift für Wissenschaft. Leipzig, 1885 [14 pages]. Describes ritual and form.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 351

45. Oskar Fleischer, Neumen-Studien, Abhandlungen über mittelalter- liche Gesangstouschriften. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1895. pp. 128 + 136. Index to each volume. Details of musical hand. See also No. 3.

46. Richard Simon, Das Puspasūtra. Abhandlungen d. K. Bayer. Akad. der Wiss.,1. Kl., XXIII. Bd., III. Abt., pp. 484-779. Munich, 1909. Pages 510-526 give lists of the various forms of ligature (Tontypen) and of technical terms. This is the latest and most authoritative work.

47. A. A. Macdonell, Vedic Grammar, being vol. i, pt. 4, of the Grundriss d. indo-arischen Philologie. Strassburg, 1910. Pages 76-9 give a succinct account of the musical character of accent, and its marking in the Sāmaveda.

48. Martin Haug, Aitareyabrahmana of the Rgveda. A full account of the Soma ritual.

49. M. Sesagiri Sāstrī, Descriptive Catalogue of the Government Oriental MSS. in the Madras Library, vol. i, pt. i, pp. 3, 4. The only account by an Indian in English.

50. Erwin Felber, Die indische Musik der vedischen und der classi- schen Zeit. Sitzungsberichte der Kais. Akademie der Wissen- schaften in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse, 170. Band, 7. Abhandlung. 1912. pp. 189. Indian recitation and chant. Contains forty-six Phonograms taken by Felix Exner in 1904, of which eight are Saman chants, provided with Rgveda text and Sumaveda text and notation critically edited. See also No. 27.

51. R. Simon, Das Pañcavidhasūtra. Breslau, 1913. pp. 82.

INSTRUMENTS.

52. Victor-Charles Mahillon, Catalogue descriptif et analytique du Musée instrumental du Conservatoire de musique de Bruxelles. Gand, 1893. pp. 535. Indices. 2nd edition. Pages 99-158 (about one illustration to a page), together with the description and illustrations in Day's book (No. 1), give a fairly complete idea of the principal instruments. See also No. 54.

35.2 BIBLIOGRAPHY

MUSICIANS AND STYLES. 53. S. M. Tagore, Universal Iistory of Music. Calcutta, 1896. pp. 345, XXxiV. Has a good deal of information about Bengali musicians and styles. 54. S. M. Tagore, Hindu music from various authors. Calcutta, 1882. pp. 423. Reprints of articles by Sir W. Jones, Captain Willard, and others. See also No. 9.

MUSICAL ANALOGIES. (a) Religion. See No. 5. (6) Colours and Castes. See No. 53 App. and No. 17. (c) Pictures. See Nos. 15, 16. ((l) Medicine, Astrology, &c. See No. 53 App. (e) Drama. See No. 16.

GLOSSARY AND INDEX

NOTE .- Individual Rags and Tals, Tribes, Localities, and Indian and European Musicians are indexed under those heads. The spelling of the Index is to be preferred whenever it differs from that in the body of the book.

abhañga, Maratha song, 300. abhigata, upward appoggiatura, 275. anticlimax avoided, 328.

abhog, section of song, 281. anudatta, 'not-raised' sound, 246,

'Abroad as I was walking', 128. 258, 259, 264.

absolute music, 341 and note. anudāttatara, comparative of anu-

absolute pitch, 148, 149, 249 note. dātta, 247, 266.

accelerando, Ex. 330. anudruta (quaver), and its subdi-

accent and quantity, 191, 192. visions, 256.

accidentals, loosely used, 17, 27. anupallavi, section of song, 281.

ada = crooked, 216. anustubh, 194. See śloka.

adi or tīntāl, common time, 15, 204- anuvadī, imperfect consonance, in

17,231. 114. particular the major third, 108,

āditālah, 202, 203. appoggiatura, 146-8, 248, 275, 332 ; aeolian, 136, 178 Ex. 274. aeolo-dorian (change of mode), double, 182. Ex. 379. Appunn's Tonmesser, 101. Ahvārakas, 258, 259, 264. Ain-i-Akbari, 84, 286. Apsaras, nymph, 76 and note. Arab music, 19, 37, 185. āk, eye, see sīyahī. Akbar, 83. arcika, of the Rgveda, 122. Aristoxenus, 103, 114, 121 note, 125, akşara, syllable, 156, 200-4. 200 note, 277 note. ālāp(a), prelude, 186, 235, 281. arohana, ascending passage, 159, 275. alcaic, 195, 196. alpa, weak (note), see balin. arpeggios as chords, 317.

amśa, predominant note, 150, 177, āryā, a metre, 200. 'ascending' minor, 138. App. I. āsh, the 'slide', 183. central note of tessitura, 330 seq. association, its part in music, 1-3. in Bharata, 141. astai, section of song, 281. graced, 152 aesthetic effect, 156. astama (eighth), a note of the Säman scale, 260. contrast to drone, 280. ata, or dhamār, a rhythm (5+5+2 = mesē, 142. +2), see Tāl. see graha. Andaman islands, 208. ūta, flour, used for tuning drum, 29, 227. uñga, tetrachord, 141. Atharvaveda, 249. = amsa, 142 note. atihara, farsed syllable, 276. animals, sense of pitch, 149. anista, disagreeable; identified with atikomal, very flat, 107, 142. atikrama, transilience, 274. vivādī, 114. atisvārya, seventh note of Sāmun antara, interval, 119 scale, 260. section of song, 281. atitīvra, very sharp, 107.

1495 A a

354 GLOSSARY AND INDEX

augmentation and diminution, 241. Chandīdās, Bengali poet, 286. Aurangzeb, 83. chanterelle, 88. avard (āvarta), section, aggregate of chanties, 19, 39-41. bars, 205 note, 218 chapu, syncopated, 210. avarohana, descending passage, 159. character of sound, 124.

bagpipe, see Scotch. chartāla, 'four-beat' (six unit) time, 216. bahusāmi, having many melodies, 250. balin, strong (note), 154, 159, 177, 178. chattu, wall of drum, 226.

Bande Mātaram, Ex. 250. chaugan, see caturguni. chautāla, see chartāla bansri, bamboo flute, 30, 102. chāyālaga, 'altered', 138, 139, 153, 155. bārobāri, normal time, 241. barypyknon, lower note of a cluster, cheironomy, see musical hand. children's songs, 68, 69. 121. bayan, left hand (drum), 226. Chippewas, 163, 174 note; Ex. 457. chords, 100 and note, 317, 318. beating time, 209. 'bee-string', or drone, 79. chorus, see solo and chorus. chromatic scale, 119, 120. beggars, &c., 22-4. notes, 271, 278, 321. Behär, its folk-song, 22. Clements, Mr. E., 105, 111, 116, 119 Bengal, language, 84, 92. note, 125, 171, App. I. musical system, 122. climate, its effect on music, 9, 10, 14. tune, Ex. 1. climax, 329. see Tagore. and anticlimax, 320. bhajan(a), kind of song, 286. bhakti, faith, 286. close, 36, 57, 342.

bhakti, section of Sāman, 255. cluster, see Greek. Cock o' the North, The, Ex. 296. bhāsā, dialect, 82, 299. bhatial, boatmen's song, 7. comma of Didymus, 127, 132, 263

bīn, North Indian vīnā, 89. compass of songs, 123, 286.

boatmen, 33, 37-41. of Rgveda, 249. of Sāmaveda, 257 seq. boat-songs, Ex. 1, 51-77. Böhme, Altdeutsches Liederbuch, Ex. of Yajurveda, 249. concerted music, 14, 341. 378. conjunct motion, 48, 160-2, 322-7; bol, drum-stroke, 227, 229, 233. Ex. 72. braces of drum, 226, 227. brāhmana, 246, 249. consonance, 108, 141, 261.

Brāhma samāj, 162. consonants, 280. convention, its part in music, 1-3, 5. Breton song, Ex. 73. 'convergence ', 241. brhaddevatā, treatise, 258. budubudike, hand drum, 228. counterpoint, 101, 238.

Burnell, A. C., 250, 251, 254, 257, 266. cradle songs, 62-7, 90.

Burns, Robert, 250. crescendo, 183.

Butler, Samuel, 162. cross-rhythm, 72, 99, 169, 236, 240, 334 seq .; Ex. 41, 42, 48, 86, 129, 139, 333, 334, 336. C major mode, 178. 'cumulation ' (of time), 242. cadence, see close. Cuttack dance, 59. cadenza (svarā), 282. 'cyclical' dactyl, see Greek. caranam, section of song, 281. Carnatic system, the, 15, 47 note, 139, cymbals, āghāța (Vedic), 78.

149 and note, 150, 209 see also tālum.

catuhśruti, of four śrutis, 118, 119. dūdra, form of song, 300; Ex. 177. caturañga, form of song, 299. caturguni, double diminution, 241. daina, right hand (drum), 226.

caturtha, note of Saman scale, 257 seq. dancing, 17, 29-32, 36, 52, 57, 59,

of time, 203. 61, 80.

cents, 115, 116 note, 185. dardaru, drumming, 245.

chakravūdya, tambourine, 34; cp. 228. Day, Captain, v, vi, 18, 200 note, 201, 202 note, 228, 346, 351.

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 355

day, periods of, 153. ethos, 20, 153-6. 'deflect', 88, 183, 190. descant, Ex. 273. Sce dolana. European drumming, 225.

Deval, Mr., 116, 348. European folk-song, 128, 134. 135, 154 and Table opposite; Ex. 193, 208, deranagari, accents in, 247 note. 209, 461. dha, drum-beat, see bol. European mediaeval songs, 84. dhū (of time), see bārobāri. European modes, 47 note, 137, 138, dhaivata, note of the scale, 142, 263. 169 and note, 177, 178. dhara, the ' slide', 183. Thūranaluksana, musical trcatise, 259. European music, 2, 18, 339, 340. European musicians : dhol, drum, 29, 59, 226-8; Ex. 141, Adam de la Hale, 343. 142, 333, 334. Bach, 173 note; Ex. 290, 328, 335, (lhrüpad, old Hindu form of song, 160, 470-3, 487. 286. Bantock, Ex. 271. diatonic intervals, 103, 321. Beethoven, 343; Ex. 239, 240, 262, scale, see Greek, nīca. 290, 318, 337, 338, 443, 444, 462, Didymus, see comma. 467, 478, 479, 485, 491, 492. digan, see duni. Berlioz, 341 note. diminution, see augmentation. Brahms, 136, 224; Ex. 182, 290, diñmūtrā, general, i.e. indefinite 339, 446, 463, 480, 481, 490. time, 186. dirgha, long (prosody), 200, 251 note, Chopin, Ex. 321. Ducoudray, 164. 255, 256. Dufay, 84. dlisjunct motion, 35, 36, 158, 322. Franz, 335 note. tetrachords, 266. Gevaert, 103 note, 173 note. dissimilar tetrachords, 138. Guido d'Arezzo, 343. diwal, braces (druni), 226 Handel, 220; Ex. 262, 323, 329. doluna, the 'deflect', 182, 183. Haydn, Ex. 319, 320. dolu, see dhol. Henschel, 91. dominant, 178, 317. Hucbald, 266. 'dor-aeolian'. pentatonic, 135. Josquin des Prés, 343. dorian, 136, 178; Ex. 333. Luther, 177; Ex. 466. doric, 47 note. See Greek tetrachord. Mendelssohn, 322; Ex. 290, 293. Dravidian, see Carnatic. Mozart, Ex. 443, 444, 464, 475-7. drone, 31, 79, 137, 141 note 2, 171-4, Orlando Gibbons, 278. 208, 263, 330, 344. Palestrina, 84; Ex. 169. drum and drumming, 10, 15, 24, 53, Purcell, Ex. 488. 76-9, 83, 89, 228, 230; Ex. 330-5. Schubert, 133, 341 note; Ex. 290, druta, quick note, 200. 451, 456, 458. 474, 486. quick tempo, 241. Scott, Cyril, 224. duni, diminution, 241. Smetana, 133. duration, see stress. Spohr, 182, 321, 341 note. aviguni, see duni. Stantord, 164. dvitiya, note of Saman scale, 257 seq. Strauss, Ex. 262. of time, 203. Stravinsky, 224. Sullivan, Ex. 468. ecclesiastical music, 3, 4, 6, 70, 147, Tallis, 343. 169, 179, 255, 266, 275 note. Thomé, Ex. 290. ekasami, having one melody, 250. Tschaikowsky, 208 note, 220, 223, Ellis, A. J., 115 note, 184 note. 335 note; Ex. 324, 325. emotional content of music, 5, 6, 155. 340. See ēthos. Tye, 343.

English verse, reading of, 202. Vaughan Williams, Ex. 207.

epithalamium, Ex. 163. Wagner, 12, 133, 182, 208, 224, 321 and note ; Ex. 236-8, 262, 448. equal temperament, 118, 344. 483 equivalence, 199, 200. Weelkes, 206. Erewhon, 162. Wesley, Ex. 290.

1495 Aa 2

356 GLOSSARY AND INDEX

European rhythm, 218 seq. Greek absolute pitch, 148, 260. European songs and singers, 340. chromatic scale, 120 note. evening, see day. chronos protos, 199, 251 note. Exner, Herr F .. 267. consonance. 266 cyclical dactyl, 211. fukr, a begging ascetic. 22, 23. diatonic scale, 120. false relation, 132. diesis, 103 note. falsetto, 286. drone, 140, 141. feet in Indian versification, 196. enharmonic scale, 121. Felber, Dr. E., 248, 267. harmonia, 140, 141. Fifth, see Fourth. hypatē, 257. Finland, 204. mesē, 142. Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, Ex. 377. five-rhythm, 203, 204, 222 seq .; Ex. modes, 47 note, 179.

339. musicians, see Aristoxenus, Didy-

flnte, bamboo, 9, 78. See bansri. mus, Olympos, Plutarch, Ptole- my, Pythagoras, Thamyris. scales, 101-4. pyknon, 121, 247 note. folk-song, see European. form (in melody). 337, 338, 339. rhythm, 204.

four-bar section, 218-20; Ex. 339. singing, 277 and note.

Fourth (the interval), 25, 31, 48, 69. tetrachord, 140, 262, 263, 266, 276.

70, 103, 124, 150, 173, 277. tonoi miktoi, 139. tonos, 140 seq. Gurkhas. tribe in the Himālaya, ga-grama, 106, 110, 111; Ex. 352. Ex. 94-124, 127, 128. gamak, see grace. two kinds, 182, 183. guru, long note, 196, 200.256.

yana, text of Samareda as sung. 251. priest. 251.

255. gāndhūra, note, scale, locality. 142. han, yes, 235; cp. 57. hand clapping, 33, 48. 262, 263. Gandhurras, 76 and note. hurmonia, see Greeks. harmonic minor, 138. yathika, non-Vedic, 122. harmonium, 16, 18, 63 note, 163 and yati, farsed syllable, 275. note. yatta, tuning blocks (drum). 226. harmonization, 3, 4, 31, 164, App. I. yūyatrī, a metre, 194. harmony, 4, 19, 101, 163, 180, App. I. gesture, see singing. Haug, 246 note, 247, 250. gharsana, the 'slide', 182. Hindostani music, 47 note. 139, 149 yhasit, the ' slide', 183. and note, 150, 216 ghazal, form of song, 300; Ex. 333. history, Indian, see India. ghe, one of the drum-strokes, 227. Gilchrist, Miss, see Scotch music. hrasva, short (prosody), 200, 251 note.

gipsies, 13, 46, 62 note. See Magyars. 255, 256.

Gita-Govinda, by Jayadeva, 157, 187. Hungarians, 5. See Magyars.

Gītānjuli, by Tagore, Ex. 267. Goorkha regiment, first, 56 note. iambs and trochees, 211. imitation, 48, 72, 179. second, 57-9. Gopis, Krishna's houris, 78. India, climate, effect of, 9. Indian history, 73, 74. grace, 17, 19, 22, 27, 32, 56, 59, 90. 181-90, 227, 281. Indian instruments, 9-13, 77-80, 88. 89, 101, 228. graduated scale of trochees. 211. Indian music, 11-13, 75-86, 340-3. graha, initial (note), 141, 153 and note, 277 and note. Indian musicians : Ashreka Ganga Ram, 151, 345. grūma, 82, 106, 109, 148. See su- Balwant Rao, 151. grama, ma-grama, gu-grūma. māmarūga (see melakarta), 119, 120. Banerji, Sourendro, 88. Bhāgavatar of Trivandrum, 89. gramophone, 16. Greece. 8. 122 Bharata, 105, 112-17, 139, 347. Deval, Krishnaji Ballal, 116, 348.

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 357

Indian musicians (continued): Jayadeva, author of Gita-Govinda, 83, Jayadeva, 83, 157, 286. 157, 286. Man, Rajah, 287. jayayhanta, gong, 79. Mārār, 85, 86. jhil or dhun, ' ungraced' melody, Miranbaksh, 228, 237. 160, 286. Mudaliar, Chinnaswami, 156, 346. jubilum, 'jubilation' of Plainsong, Nanne Khan, 230. 250, 255, 276. Nārada, 75. Panna, 236. kubi, song of question and answer, l'ingle, 151, 230, 285 note, 346. 287 Prabhu, Chandra, 90. kaiśiki, hair's-breadth, 119. Ramachandra of Trivandrum, 89. kakali, flat, 119. Ray, Upendrakisor, 152, 161, 162, kalā, 1 of anudruta, 256. 166. kala, speed-unit, 241. Sahasrabuddhe, Trimbak Balwant, kanar, rim of drum-wall, 227. 151. kanjari, tambourine, 228. Sar(a)ňgadeva, 105, 154. karadivādya, arm-druin, 228. Seshanna of Mysore, 86, 87. Sharqi of Jaunpur, Mahmud, 287. karane, see āta (of drum). karkh, Rajput song, 300. Shori (songstress), 300. karsana, ligature, 257, 275. Somanāth, 105, 347. katha, form of song, 287. Subbanna of Mysore, 86, 87. Kauthumas, a sect, 261. Tagore, Rabindranath, vide sub voce. Keats, 192. Tagore, Rajah S. M., 285, 347 seq. khali, the blank beat, 29, 30, 57, 61, Tansen, Miyan, 83, 84. 208, 209, 230. l'iagaraja, 84-6; Ex. 379. Tuka Rām, 300. lharaj, drone, 280. khyal, a kind of song, 165, 287. Tumburu, 75, 76. kinnara, stringed instrument, 76 and Indian mythology, 76. note, 81. rhythms in European music, 223, 224 kīrtaņa, song (Bengali), 286. kīrtanum, song (South India), 282. singing, 13. kokkara, instrument of percussion, infinite series, 125. 44, 45, 228. instrumental, see vocal. komal, flat, 107, 108, 142. instruments, see Indian. Krishna, 26, 76, 83, 286. intensity of sound, 123. eersta, 'graced', supplied with ligature intervals, the Fourth, 31, 44, 327. (karşana), 257. mediately and immediately per- lrti, song (South India), 84, 282. ceived by the ear, 125. krusta, first note of Sūman scale, 257, quarter-tone, 108, 113, 117 seq. 261. septimal, 125. lerustūdi, 'krusta, &c.', 257. sharpened, 104. kuzhal (kural), South Indian pipe, 32 the Third, 36, 325. and note. three-quarter tone, 21, 38, 39, 184. tone and semitone, 101 and note, laghu, short (note), 196, 200, 256. 109, 110 note. laraz, fifth string of satūr, 78. vocal and unvocal, 322 seq. lascar, sailor, 19. intonation, 17, 18, 27, 100-33. Irish pentatonic, 126 note. luya, tempo, 82, 241. legend, see India. ista, agreeable, identified with anu- limma of Pythagoras, 127, 132. vādī, 114. Localities : Achilgarh, 60. jagatī, a metre, 194. Allahabad, 231; Ex. 9-13. jātaka stories, 74 and note, 78, 80, 81. Alleppey, Ex. 51-4. jāti, species, Bharata's name for Rāg, Amritsar, 23J. 112, 113, 140, 155. Bangalore, 251, 252; Ex. 17 26. jūttra, mystery play, 286. Bhavnagar, 60, 90, 209, 229.

358 GLOSSARY ND INDEX

Localities (continued) : Bombay, 231; Ex. 3, 7. mandragati, lower tetrachord, 140.

Calcutta, 24, 88, 91-9, 231, 267, māndūkisiksā, treatise, 259.

271, 272; Ex. 16. mantras (spells), recitation of, 201. Maoris, 260. Dehra Dun, 53-9. Maratha songs, see localities. Dharmsāla, 56. mūtra, time-unit, 82, 156, 211, 256. Gandhāra, 262. mūtrūlaksuna, treatise, 256. Gwalior, 8, 151. 287. Jaunpur, 287. mūtravrtta, 'time-unit-fixed', 193. mediaeval Europe, 203. Thelum, 59, 60, 68, 69, 231. Lahore, 230, 231. melakarta, group of Ragams, 47 note,

Madras, 86, 87, 248, 251, 266, 269 ; 106, 120 note, 139. melodic figure, 70, 158, 159. 276. Ex. 6, 27. Maratha songs, Ex. 92, 93, 161-3. melody, 4, 48, 49, 69-72, 100, 174. Chap. XII. Mussouri, Ex. 14, 15. Mysore, 9, 86, 230, 251, 252.273 note. memoria technica, 120 note, 139, 209. merging', 118, 119, 127. Nagpur, Ex. 28. mesē, see Greek. Negapatam, Ex. 72, 74-7. Peshawar, 262. mesopyknon, 121. middle note of three, 121, 208. Pind Dadan Khān, 231. Milton, 202, 203. Poona, 247, 324, 340; Ex. 4, 5. Raipur (C. P.), Ex. 29. 30. mind, the 'deflect', 183. mirh = mind. Tanjore. 8, 9, 46, 84, 85, 253, 268 ; Ex. 90, 91. miśra, 'mixed', 138, 155.

Trichur, and neighbourhood, Ex. misrab, plectrum, 88.

31-50. mixolydian (hypophrygic) mode, 135. 136 Trivandrum. 88, 89; Ex. 78-89. Vraj, 299. mixolydic, see locrian.

locrian (mixolydic) mode, 278. mode, see scale and mode, European

long by position (syllables), 255. modes, and 217 (of time). modulation, 136, 137. Loti, see Pierre. Mohammedan, see Mahommedan. lotus, its connotation, 161 and note. lullabies, see cradle songs. mood, 5, 8, 107, 174.

derivation, 62 note. mordent, see grace and 152. mnorning, see day. morris dancers, 16, 31. maddale, cylindrical drum, 228; Ex. 37, 48. mrcchukatika, play, sixth cent., 76, 81.

mudhya, middle (octave), 107, 114. mrdanga, drum, 10, 89, 226, 227.

middle (śruti), 108 and note. miochana, mode, 82, 107, 113, 141.

of tempo, moderato, 241. mūrchhana, grace note, 106. 152, 281. 286 madhyādi, a form of common time, 207. mirki, trill, 300.

madhyama, 142 seq. musica ficta, 42, 134, 152. 175. 178, 275 note. ma-grama, 106, 110, 136, 140; Ex. 351. Magyars, 186. musical Ass, the, 82.

Mahābhārata, 114, 264, 287. musical hand, the, 260, 261, 264.

mahūvyutpatti, dictionary, 155. Myers, Dr. C. S., 48 note.

Mahommedan music, 16, 62, 89, 90, 125, 203, 287, 300. nūgari, kettle-drum. 228.

Maitra, Mr. S. M., 6, 7. nūgasaram (South India) or shahnai

major Third, see interval. or surnai (North India), oboe of strident tone, 46, 59, 78, 236, 237. major Tone, see interval. malavikagnimitra, play, fifth cent., 82. naqgārah, see drum.

Malay Archipelago, 204. Narada, patron saint of music, 74, 75, 76 mandra, low, 114. lower octave, 107. narudasiksā, treatise on music. 74. 75. 259, 264. note of Saman scale, 260. nasal tone, see singing.

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 359

nātyašāstra of Bharata, 74, 75, 105, 193. 154-7. 330, 333, 334, 356, 357, 359, 360, 364, 365. See pp. 48 nīca, low, diatonic, 271, 278. nidhana, coda of Saman, 254, 275. uote and 348

nişāda, note of scale, 142, 263. phrygian (doric) mode, 178, 276-8.

North American Indians, see Chippe- pianoforte, 16, 18. picotta, water-raisingapparatus, 21, 22. was. Pierre Loti's L'Inde, 10-14. notation, vi, 83, 157, 267, 273. notes kept in reserve, 329. plagal tunes, rare, 48.

nyūsa, final (note), 141, 153, 277 note. Plain-song and Saman, 250, 255, 275

pluta, prolate (prosody), 200, 255, 256. note.

'occupation' songs, 19-26. Plutarch, 130, 173 note. Olympos, 76. Polak, Herr, 164. omvi, Maratha song, 300, 337. 'popular' music, 152, 340, 341. organ, 162. Organum, 163; Ex. 272. povāda, chivalrie song, Maratha country, 46, 300. oxypyknon, 121. pracuya, 'drone ' note of Saman, 247, 258, 265. Pachtikos, 141, 156. pada, song, 286. prakrti, substantive (notes), 273. mrumana, indicative, determining pūda, quarter-verse, 193, 286. (śruti), viz. the comma of Didy- pallavi, section of song, 86, 281. mus, 112 seq. pañcama, fifth note of secular scale, prastāra, ehanges (as in bell-ringing), 142 155. fifth note of Sumun seale, 260. of time, 203. prastava, introduetion, 253.

Pañcatantra, fables about the fifth prathama, note of Saman scale, 257 seq. prutihara, seetion of Sāman, 254. eent., 82. prati-madhyama, 'false' madhyama, parand, drum-variant, 230. 231. 119, 133, 139. partials, see upper partials. participant, 178. pratyutkrama, acciaecatura, 275.

parvan, what can be sung in one prosody, 196, 203.

breath, 200, 251, 255, 276. Ptolemy, 140.

passing notes, see substantive. purvarcika of the Sūmaveda, 250.

Pater, Renaissance, 340. puspasūtra, treatise, 258, 261, 274.

pentatonic scales, 122, 123, 126 and pyknon, see Greek. Pythagoras, see limma. note, 135; Ex. 353. perfect consonance, see sumraditva. Petrie, 126 note. quantitative language, 191.

phonograph, 17, 50, 90. quarter-tones, 129, 130, 151, 345.

phonographed tunes, Ex. 42, 43. 103, quintal harmony, 124, 173, 277. quintuple, see five-rhythm.

Rāg Instances Discussion

Alahiya Examples Pages 318 Asāvari 410-12 Bāgeshrī (Bageshvarī) 170, 171, 318. 402 90. Bahär 401 Behāg (Bihāg) 220,482 Bhairau (Bhairo, Bhai- 216, 294, 426 50,152,158,171,App.1. 122, 156, 171, 173. rav) Bhairavī Bhimpalās(ī) 175, 176, 419-21, 447 83, 90, 156, 170, 318.

Bhūp(kaliān) (= Mo- 405,406 306,383 170, 174, 210. hanna Rāgam) Bibhās(a) 83, 90, 173, App. 11.

360 GLOSSARY AND INDEX

Rāg Instances Discussion Examples l'ages Bilāskhānī Todī 218 Bilavala 387 Darbārī Kānadā 413-15 Desh 221,394,395 171. Dhanāshrī 408,409 Dīnkapūria 155. Dīpak (= Māravā) 155. Gaula 450 Gauri 433 318. Hamīr(kaliān) 384 159,171. Hindol(a) 381 154. Jhinjoti (Jhijhit) 179, 219, 308, 393 170, 171, 318. Jogi 425 154. App. II. Kafi 180, 301, 399,400 89, 170, 318. Kālangadā 424 Kaliān(ī) 268,382 89, 156, 159, 170, 318. Kamod(kalian) 159 Kānadā 416, 493 154, 171. App. II. Kedārā 278-81, 388-92 175. Khamāj (Khambāz) 178,300,398 89, 171, 318. Lalat(a) 436, 437 318. Lalit(a) 152. Mālkos (Mālavakauņs) 380.407 150, 173. App. 11. Mallār(a) (Malhār(a)) 404 318 Mand 226,307 Mārava 438,439 App. 11 Multān(ī) 429 121, 152, App. Il. Myāchā Mallār 403 l'araj(a) 435 318 Pilu 417,418 128, 318. Pūria(kaliān) 440 170. Pūrvī 432 318. Rāmkalī 422, 423 318, App. II. Sarang 330,397 126. 154, 174, 175. Shām(kaliān) 155, 159. Sindora 334 Sohanī 264, 434, 449 Sorat 396 Srī-(rag(a)) 430,431 318. Tilang(a) (Tilak) 171. Todī 217, 427, 428 121, 173, 318, App. 11. Vasant(a) (Basant) 298,299 83, 90, 155, 170, 186. Yaman(kalian) (Iman- 265-7 90, 159, 171, App. I. kaliān)

Rāgam (see p. 107) Instances Discussion Abhogī 353 Ārabhī 174. Gaurī-manohari 155. Mayamālavagaula 120. Mohanna 173 86,210. Mūkhārī 119, 120. Nārāyaņī 386 Ritigaula 379 Sankarābharaņa 308, 385 Srī(ragam) 86.

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 361

raga, particularization of mode, 8. 14, 15, 44, 56, 82-4, 89, 90, 107 sanvataru, lower than onudātta, 247. Sanskrit language, 10, 190-3. and note, 112. 282. and Chap. poems recited, Ex. 8, 346. VI authorities, 74, 80, 105. ragavibodha, treatise by Somanātha, 74, 105, 106, 155, 182 note, 186. sapphic, 195.

rūgmāla, 'picture' ofa Rūg, 163 note. saptaku, octave, 107.

Rūmūyana, the, 287. saraband rhythm, 213, 223. Saraswati, goddess of music, 16. ratnūkara, treatise by Šārňgadeva. 74, 105. 110, 111, 119, 201 and sārdūla vikrīdita, a metre, Ex. 307. sargam, see srara. note, 202 note. Ray, Indu Bhūsan. poet. 6. satūr, musical instrument, 78, 106, 172. recitation, 201, 267. scale, Chap. IV. See Greek and reckoning by aksara, 200, 201. Sāman. by mātra, 204 seq. scansion, 193-200, 338 rekhtu, form of song, 300. schools of music, 9. religious basis of music, 5, 6. Scotch music, 71, 126 note, 174 note, resonance of drum, 29, 227. 184, 185. rests, 192, 193, 200. Scott's ballad metre, 193. Rgveda accent, 246 seq., 260, 265. 'Seeds of Love', the, 154. recitation, Ex. 340. rhythm, 27. 29, 49, 72, 98; Ex. 34, Seligmann, Dr., 48 note.

42, 72, 129, 141; see Chap. VIII. semitone, see interval. septimal interval, see interval. rkprātisakhya, treatise, 114. 258. roha (= ūrohuna), 275. Sesagiri Sūstrī, 248 note, 250, 263.

route through India, 17. shadara, hexatonic, 122.

rsabha, 142, 263. shahnai or surnai, see nagasarai. Shakespeare, 169.

sadja, 'born of six ' (note of the scale). sharp and flat, 107, 108. sharp Sixth, 122, 125, 127. 142, 263. shatkala, six-fold speed (treble dimi- sa-grūma, the, 106, 109, 136, 140, nution), 85, 86, 241. 343; Ex. 350. shatsruti, of six śrutis, 118, 119. 'sailor's life, A', 135. Sikharinī, a metre, 197. sālanka, 'altered', 138, 139, 155. Salvation Army, 6, 43. similar tetrachords, 138. singaru, stringed instrument, 31. sam, the first of the bar, 208 and note. 226, 230, 231, 322. singing, 89-91. Sir William Jones, 187. sama, applied to a note of the Saman siyahī, black plaster on drum, 227. scale, 260. ·slide', 66, 88, 190. See gharsuna. saman, hymn melody, Chap. X. Hoka, 'flowing ' metre, 193, 194. scale, 258, 259, 263. chants, see Ex. 344-8, 356, 357, snake-charmer, 208; Ex. 274.

359, 360, 364, 365. solmization, 84, 149; cp. the musical hand. sūma-paribhāşū, 258, 274. Sāmaveda, 80, 142, 190, and Chap. X. solo and chorus, Ex. 3, 9. 17, 18. 42, 54, 58, 72, 73, 74, 76, 77, 115, samhata, struck together = samvādi, 122, 129. 114. soma, plant, 249, 250. samhitu, text of Veda, 249. song, 78, 80-4, 341. samika, of the Sāmaredu, 122. sopanam, temple songs, South India. sampūrņa, heptatonic. 122. 43. samrūdī, perfect consonance, 108,114, South Indian scale, see Carnatic. 138, 145, 266. . Sovay, Sovay ', 134. samvaditva, theory of consonance, śriñgu, horn, 79. 111, 261 seq. sruti, enharmonic interval or note, 112, sañcari, section of song, 281. 113, 117, 127 and note, 132, 133. sañkha, conch, 79. sthana, voice-register, 82, 114. sañkirna, 'mixed', 138, 153, 155. sthayi, see astai.

362 GLOSSARY AND INDEX

stobha, jubilation, 250, 255, 276, 338. srara (sargam, srarāvarta, surāvartu), stoma, group, 255. sol-fa syllables to form cadenza, stotra, stanza, 255. 84 and note, 85, 299, 314, 315, stress and duration, 192, 223. 342. 'strong', see balin. svara, cadence, 264, 275. structure, 337-9. sraramela-kalanidhi, treatise, 105, 'substantive' and 'passing' notes, 119. 4, 100; see 141. srarantara, of four notes, 123. śuddha, pure, natural diatonic, 107, 118, 119, 138, 153, 155. scarita, Rgreda accent, 190, 246. 'sounded' or graced note of Samun, sukra, applied to a note of the Saman 258, 259, 265, 275 scale, 260. 'super-particular' fractions, 124. symbols of notation, 18, 200, 201.

superscript accidentals, 17, 108, 109. tabla, pair of drums, 226, 227. surāvarta, see svarā. Tagore, Rabindranāth, of Calcutta, surbahār, instrument, 88, 172. 91-9 surnai, see nāgasaram. his melodies, 92, 99. surphakt(a) (sulafakata), 'zigzag' time, 216, 241; Ex. 111. See his songs, Ex. 176-80, 263, 264, 266. his portrait (frontispiece), 92. Tāl his method, 96 note, 250. srara, diatonic or chromatic interval Tagore, Rajah S. M., 285 note, 347, or note, 82, 107, 109 note, 142. 348.351.

Instances Diseussion

Āda-chautāl(a) 330 Examples Pages 216,217. (=Dhruva) Ādi (=Tīntāl) 173, 308,398 209. Ața (=Dhamār) 315, 316 209. Brahma 242. Chautāl(a), or Char- 334, 403, 405, 413. 426, 216, 217. tāl(a) 428 Dadra (=Eka Trisra) 177 Deśādi 309,379 Dhamār 333, 391, 399, 412,436 216. Dhruva 209 Eka (Ekka, Ektāl(a), 178-80, 267 209, 216. Ekatālī) Eka Trisra 388, 390, 393-5, 407, 411, 415, 416, 419, 433 Jhampa (Jhap, Jap) 266, 314 201, 209, 216, 217, 218. Jhamra 425, 429 Khaņdajātī Laghu 311 Khatt 216. Madhyādi 310 Madhyamāvatī 216. Māņt (=Mātya, and 280 201. Surphakta) Matta 216 Māțya 172 209. Rūdra 242 Rūpak 312, 381, 383, 384, 392, 209, 216, 218. 397, 400, 401, 402, 408, 410, 414, 417, 418, 420, 421, 423, 427, 430, 432, 435, 437, 438

GLOSSARY AND INDEX 363

Tāl Instances Discussion Examples Pages Savārī 242. Surphak(a)t(a) (Sula- 263, 264, 431 216, 217. fakata) Tevra (Teora) (=Tri- 176, 294, 306, 382, 385, 216-18. puta) 386,404 Tīntāl (Tītāl(a), Tri- 208, 216. tāla, Trivața) 300, 301, 387, 389, 396, 406, 409, 422, 424, 434,439 Tripuța 313, 440 209.

tūl, beat, 208, 217 note. Tribes : tāla, time, 14, 83, 89, 90. Arabs, 37. tāla(m), cymbal, Ex. 42, 86. Chitrālī, Ex. 138. tambūra, stringed instrument to Garhwāli, 50-7. accompany voice, 78, 85, 171, Gond, 28-31. 173, 227. Gurkha, 56-9. Tamil, 120 note. Kadar, 31. tāna, fioriture, melodic figuration, 82, Kāfīr, Ex. 139. 287. Kānika, 44, 45. tappa, form of song, 188, 300. Kanwar, 31. tāra, high (octave), 106, 114. Malayan, 36. tāragati, upper tetrachord, 140. Malya, 31, 32. tarāna (tillāna), form of song, 299. Pāņan, 34. Telugu, 84. Pāndaran, 41. tempering, 118. Pulaiyar, 42. tempo, see druta, madhya, vilambita, Velan, 33. kāla. tertian harmony, 125, 277. tristubh, a class of metre, 194. tritone, 103, 104. tessitura, 4, 107, 143, 279, 280. trivata, form of song, 299. tetrachord, 70, 71, 121 note, 128 and Troubadours, 8. note, 141, 260. See Greek. teyāttam, exorcism, 34. trtīya(h) = third, of time, 203, 207. note of Sāman scale, 257 seq. tha, augmentation, 241. Thamyris, 76. tük, movement (of song), 300. tuning of drum, 227. that, setting, 106. twelve sorrows, the, 61, 62. theka, drum-phrase, 230, 231; Ex. 330, 336. Third, see interval. thumri, form of song, 165, 299; Ex. ucca, high, chromatic, 271, 278. udātta, 'raised' sound, 246, 258, 259, 268. 265, 266. Thurston, Mr. E., 48 note. 'tierce de Picardie', 132, App. I. udghāta, downward appoggiatura, 275. tillana, see tarāna. udgītha, section of Sāman, 253. time, see Tāl, Tāla, tāl. udukku or udukkai drum, shaped like time of day, see day. hour-glass, 43, 228. tīrra, sharp, 107, 108. sharper udupe, goblet-shaped drum, 228 tīvratar, tīvratam, and upadrava, section of Saman, 254. sharpest, 107. tonality, 19. upendravajra, metre, 194-6.

tonic, 18, 19, 36, 48, 144, 145. upper partials, 123, 124. uśnih, a metre, 194. tonos, see Greek. transilient scales, 48, 122-7, 128, 152, ustād, professional musician, 89, 301. ut queant laxis, 84, 85. 158, 263. uttama, see tāra. tribal song, 154. uttarārcika of the Sāmareda, 250.

364 GLOSSARY AND INDEX

vūdī, unison, i.e. starting point of vocal and instrumental, 150. consonance, 108. vocalizing syllables, 23, 280. rakra, crooked, 153, 328. vocal scale, 276-9. valam, covered boat, Travancore, 38, vrddha, increased (prosody), 251, 255, 39. 256. varek, the ' deflect', 183. variation form, Ex. 12, 27, 38, 42, 43. varja, transilient (q.v.). wrrka, drumhead, 227. watch, see day. rarnavrtta, 'syllable-fixed', 193. 'weak', see alpa. rasanta-tilaka, a metre, 197; Ex. whole tone consonance, 173. 280. Wilson, Lady, 164, 226. vibhāg, see arard. 'woods so wilde, the ', Ex. 377. vikrta, chromatic, 107. words of songs, 14, 50, 53. passing-note, 273 rilambita, adagio, 241. Yajurveda, 248. vinā, stringed instrument, 9, 78, 79, 88, 112, 148, 171, 172, 183, 227. yama, twins, 114. Yāma, death, 78. vinata, lengthened appoggiatura, 275. the Ryveda, violin, 8, 162. yoni, a borrowing fro 250. virama, rest (in music), 200 and note, 256, 276. 'visual' music, 342. Zakmi Dil, Ex. 123.

vivadī, dissonance, in particular the Zalzal, Arabian musician, 185. zamzama, see mūrki. semitone, 108. Zoroastrians, 250.

Oxford : Horace Hart M.A. Printer to the University

Date Due

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Library Bureau Cat. No. 1137.

781.7 F83m MUSIC

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Fox Strangways, A. H. 1859- 1949.

The music of Hindostan

ERNEST E. GOTTLIEB BOOKS MUSICAL LITERA JRE Beverly Hill.