Critical and Historical Essays
principal sound. For example:
[Figure 13]
Hungarian folk music has been much distorted by the oriental
element, as represented by the _zingari_ or gypsies.
The Hungarian type of folk music is one of the highest, and
is extremely severe in its contours, as shown in the following:
[Figure 14]
The gypsy element as copied by Liszt has obscured the folk
melodies by innumerable arabesques and ornaments of all sorts,
often covering even a "one-note" type of melody until it seems
like a complicated design.
This elaboration of detail and the addition of passing and
ornamental notes to every melody is distinctly an oriental
trait, which finds vent not only in music but also in
architecture, designing, carving, etc. It is considered by many
an element of weakness, seeking to cover a poverty of thought
by rich vestments. And yet, to my mind, nothing can be more
misleading. In spite of Sir Hubert Parry and other writers,
I cannot think that the Moors in Spain, for instance, covered
poverty of thought beneath superficial ingenuity of design. The
Alhambra outdoes in "passage work," in virtuoso arabesques,
all that an army of Liszts could do in piano literature;
and yet the Arabs were the saviours of science, and promoted
the greatest learning and depth of thought known in Europe in
their time. As for Liszt, there is such an astounding wealth
of poetry and deep feeling beneath the somewhat "flashy,"
bombastic trick of speech he inherited, that the true lover
of music can no more allow his feelings to be led astray by
such externals than one would judge a man's mind by the cut
of his coat or the hat he wears.
Thus we see the essence of folk song is comprised in the three
elements mentioned, and its aesthetic value may be determined
by the manner in which these elements are combined and their
relative preponderance.
One point must be very distinctly understood, namely, that what
we call harmonization of a melody cannot be admitted as forming
any part of folk song. Folk melodies are, without exception,
homophonous. This being the case, perhaps my statement that the
vital principle of folk music in its best state has nothing in
common with nationalism (considered in the usual sense of the
word), will be better understood. And this will be the proof
that nationalism, so-called, is merely an extraneous thing
that has no part in pure art. For if we take any melody, even
of the most pronounced national type, and merely eliminate the
characteristic turns, affectations, or mannerisms, the theme
becomes simply music, and retains no touch of nationality. We
may even go further; for if we retain the characteristic
mannerisms of dress, we may harmonize a folk song in such a
manner that it will belie its origin; and by means of this
powerful factor (an essentially modern invention) we may even
transform a Scotch song, with all its "snap" and character,
into a Chinese song, or give it an Arabian flavour. This,
to be sure, is possible only to a limited degree; enough,
however, to prove to us the power of harmony; and harmony,
as I have said, has no part in folk song.
To define the _role_ of harmony in music is no easy matter.
Just as speech has its shadow languages, gesture and expression;
just as man is a duality of idealism and materialism; just as
music itself is a union of the emotional and the intellectual,
so harmony is the shadow language of melody; and just as in
speech this shadow language overwhelms the spoken word, so
in music harmony controls the melody. For example: Imagine
the words "I will kill you" being said in a jesting tone of
voice and with a pleasant expression of the face; the import
of the words would be lost in their expression; the mere words
would mean nothing to us in comparison with the expression
that accompanied them.
Take away the harmonic structure upon which Wagner built his
operas and it would be difficult to form a conception of the
marvellous potency of his music. Melody, therefore, may be
classed as the gift of folk song to music; and harmony is its
shadow language. When these two powers, melody and harmony,
supplement each other, when one completes the thought of the
other, then, provided the thought be a noble one, the effect
will be overwhelmingly convincing, and we have great music. The
contrary results when one contradicts the other, and that
is only too often the case; for we hear the mildest waltzes
dressed up in tragic and dramatic chords, which, like Bottom,
"roar as gently as any sucking dove."
In discussing the origin of speech, mention was made of those
shadow languages which accompany all our spoken words, namely,
the languages of expression and gesture. These were surely
the very first auxiliaries of uttered speech, and in the same
way we find that they constitute the first sign of advance
in primitive melody. Savages utter the same thought over and
over again, evidently groping after that semblance of Nirvana
(or perhaps it may be better described as "hypnotic exaltation")
which the incessant repetition of that one thought, accompanied
by its vibrating shadow, sound, would naturally occasion.
It was also stated that the relative antiquity or primitivity
of a melody is invariably to be discovered by its degree
of relationship to the original type, one note, one rhythm,
the emotional, the savage howl, or, in other words, the high
note followed by a gradual descent. To confirm this theory of
the origin of folk song, we need only look at the aboriginal
chants of widely separated peoples to find that the oldest
songs all resemble one another, despite the fact that they
originated in widely separated localities.
Now the difference between this primitive music and that
which we call folk song is that the latter is characterized
by a feeling for design, in the broadest sense of the word,
entirely lacking in the former. For we find that although
folk song is composed of the same material as savage music,
the material is arranged coherently into sentences instead of
remaining the mere exclamation of passion or a nerve exciting
reiteration of unchanging rhythms and vibrations, as is the
case in the music of the savage.
Before proceeding further, I wish to draw the line which
separates savage from folk music very plainly.
We know that the first stage in savage music is that of one
note. Gradually a tone above the original is added on account
of the savage being unable to intone correctly; through
stress of emotion the fifth and octave come into the chant;
the sixth, being the note above the fifth, is added later,
as is the third, the note above the second. Thus is formed
the pentatonic scale as it is found all over the world, and
it is clear, therefore, that the development of the scale is
due to emotional influences.
The development of rhythm may be traced to the words sung
or declaimed, and the development of design or form to the
dance. In the following, from Brazil, we find a savage chant
in almost its primitive state:
[Figure 15] etc.
The next example, also from Brazil, is somewhat better, but
still formless and unemotional.
[Figure 16] etc.
Let this be danced to, however, and the change is very marked,
for immediately form, regularity, and design are noticeable:
[Figure 17] etc.
On the other hand, the emotional element marks another very
decided change, namely, by placing more sounds at the command
of the singer, and also by introducing words, which necessarily
invest the song with the rhythm of language.
Thus the emotional and declamatory elements heighten the
powers of expression by the greater range given to the voice,
and add the poignancy and rhythm of speech to song. On the
other hand, the dance gives regularity to the rhythmic and
emotional sequences.
In the following examples we can see more clearly the elements
of folk song as they exist in savage music:
Three or four note (simple)
South America [Figure 18]
Nubia [Figure 19]
Emotional (simple)
Samoa [Figure 20]
Emotional and Composite
Hudson's Bay [Figure 21]
Soudan [Figure 22]
Howl and Emotion
[Figure 23]
Dance. Brazil
[Figure 24]
Simple [Figure 25] or
Dance [Figure 26]
The fact that so many nations have the pentatonic or five-note
scale (the Chinese, Basque, Scotch, Hindu, etc.), would seem to
point to a necessary similarity of their music. This, however,
is not the case. In tracing the differences we shall find
that true folk song has but few marked national traits, it is
something which comes from the heart; whereas nationalism in
music is an outward garment which is a result of certain habits
of thought, a _mannerism_ of language so to speak. If we look at
the music of different nations we find certain characteristics;
divest the music of these same characteristics and we find
that the figure upon which this garment of nationalism has
been placed is much the same the world over, and that its
relationship to the universal language of savage music is very
marked. Carmen's song, divested of the mixture of triplets
and dual rhythms (Spanish or Moorish) is akin to the "howl."
Nationalism may be divided into six different classes:
First we have what may be broadly termed "orientalism,"
which includes the Hindu, Moorish, Siamese, and Gypsy, the
latter embracing most of southeastern European (Roumania,
etc.) types. Liszt's "Second Rhapsody," opening section,
divested of orientalism or gypsy characteristics, is merely
of the savage three-note type.
Our second division may be termed the style of reiteration,
and is to be found in Russia and northern Europe.
The third consists of the mannerism known as the "Scotch snap,"
and is a rhythmic device which probably originated in that
trick of jumping from one register of the voice to another,
which has always had a fascination for people of simple
natures. The Swiss _jodel_ is the best illustration of this
in a very exaggerated form.
The fourth consists of a seemingly capricious intermixture
of dual and triple rhythm, and is especially noticeable in
Spanish and Portuguese music as well as in that of their South
American descendants. This distinction, however, may be traced
directly back to the Moors. For in their wonderful designs we
continually see the curved line woven in with the straight, the
circle with the square, the _tempus perfectum_ with the spondee.
This would bring this characteristic directly under the head
of orientalism or ornamental development. Yet the peculiarity
is so marked that it seems to call for separate consideration.
The fifth type, like the fourth, is open to the objection that
it is merely a phase of the oriental type. It consists of the
incessant use of the augmented second and diminished third,
a distinctively Arabian characteristic, and is to be found
in Egypt, also, strange to say, occasionally among our own
North American Indians. This, however, is not to be wondered
at, considering that we know nothing of their ancestry. Only
now and then on that broad sea of mystery do we see a half
submerged rock, which gives rise to all sorts of conjectures;
for example, the custom of the Jutes to wear green robes and
use fans in certain dances, the finding in the heart of America
of such an Arab tune as this:
[Figure 27]
or such a Russian tune as this:
[Figure 28]
The last type of nationalism in folk song is almost a negative
quality, its distinguishing mark being mere simplicity,
a simplicity which is affected, or possibly assimilated, by
the writer of such a song; for German folk song proper is a
made thing, springing not from the people, but from the many
composers, both ancient and modern, who have tried their hands
in that direction.