THE MUSIC OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES AND THE BEGIN NINGS OF EUROPEAN MUSIC.1 By WILLY PASTOR. More than once have we heard in this hall, by means of the phonograph, an echo of the sounds which to primitive peoples are the height of all musical beauty. To us it seems a strange music. The repetition of certain very short motifs, noisily executed and profusely and weirdly accented by cries, clapping of hands, the droning, or striking of percussion instruments-all that gives expression to moods as foreign to us as though it came out of another world. Even educated musicians are perplexed by such acoustic phenomena. They can hardly perceive the difference between quite distinct motifs. At the outset, however, we can hardly distinguish between one negro and another, and it is a question of persistence if we are to understand in all their diversity the religious songs, dances, and folk-songs of the lower and lowest peoples. Of course a real understanding of sensation will never be possible. Two different worlds are reflected in the music of primitive peoples and in our own, and each must have had its own peculiar character for more than 3,000 years. Let us try, in order to form an antithesis, to translate from sound into sight. For such an experiment, the differentiation suggested by Hornbostel is very important. He proposed to separate music into horizontal and vertical music. Horizontal music is the monotony of those exotic motifs compared to which the most insignificant of our intervals can signify so much. A single one of our chords is like a precipice when we think of the monotonous music of primitive peoples. If we compare the primeval Pan's pipes and their thin tone with the great richness and plastic power of our organ, we shall then have a classic example of the difference between horizontal and vertical, or, if you prefer, between the music of two and three dimensions. The horizontal or two-dimension music has become so foreign to us that we must try to bring it back to our hearing again. In this we shall succeed quickest if we concentrate our minds on the manner of playing and the sound character of a group of instruments 1 Translated by permission from the Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, Berlin, vol. 42, 1910, pp. 654–675. which have become to us of secondary importance, but which to the primitive peoples are of infinite significance. These are the percussion instruments. We might here extend our investigation from the circle of primitive peoples to the entire territory of living orientals. The Orient has done remarkable things in the invention of percussion instruments, and it is astonishing how capable of modulation are even the drums and kettledrums that are in use in the Orient. They can crash like a fanfare or sound as dull and hollow as a dirge. The monotonous rattling of a pair of castanets, when correctly. played, can suggest whole melodies. The cymbal and also the gong originated in the Orient. There is no sharper contrast than the strong voluptuousness of the cymbal, which so well accentuates the sensuous moods (for example, the Venusberg scene in "Tannhäuser"), and the dull, hollow vibration of the gong. But we will confine ourselves to the primitive peoples. A favorite classification recognizes two groups of percussion instruments in the meager scores of these peoples: The percussion instruments proper, and the rattles and clappers. In the first group we have three subdivisions: (1) Sticks, which are struck on the ground, or against primitive sounding boards, such as hollow trees, shields, and the like; (2) suspended sound plates to strike against; and (3) the great and most important group of the drums. In our folk music the percussion instruments hold an important place, to give a firm structure to the music. The drums, cymbals, and kettledrums of our military and dance music compel the melodies to proceed in an orderly manner; they mark the rhythm to an extent often almost comic to persons of fine sensibilities. Thus it happens that in many books on music the percussion instruments are simply entered under the heading of "rhythmical instruments," a designation in which, for example, the department of the German Museum at Munich, which is concerned with them, acquiesces. The effect of music characterized by the unpretentious percussion instruments is unmistakable. A strong rhythmical music helps with work and with play; if we may make use of a modern expression, it is "Schrittmacherdienste." It is used effectively in activities which require regularly recurring movements of the body, in marches, in dances, in special kinds of work, such as threshing and hammering, or, to choose a somewhat less definite example, in the old-time spinning rooms. The output of power will be regulated through the rhythm. A certain common atmosphere, a mass spirit, will be produced which will react on the individual. This purely rhythmical value of the percussion instruments is so highly developed and dominant in the melodies of savage tribes, that we appear already to have reached the center of all archaic and folk music. We only occasionally use hand clapping for emphasizing the rhythm, while they employ it systematically for the dance. Working songs dominate over a wide sphere of human activities. We need think only of the boat songs, in which the oars are operated precisely like a musical instrument. Bücher has collected much valuable material in his "Arbeit und Rhythmus," in regard to this. But in such rhythmical values the significance of percussion instruments to the savages is by no means exhausted. Indeed, the deeper we search the clearer it becomes that the whole of the purely rhythmical music of this kind represents a second and later stratum which we must remove if we would reach the actual beginnings of human music. I have shown how the orientals can get expression out of the mere noise of percussion-instrument music. So do we also, in that we constantly use our kettledrums in symphonies, for example, not only as a purely rhythmical instrument but as one capable of great expression. When we come to look closer we find that the savages also knew very well the twofold character of percussion instruments and that they were very much used. Even unmusical travelers have noticed what a variety of pitch there is in the percussion instruments of native peoples and particularly in drums. They may be gigantic instruments, whose sounding body is a single, hollowed-out tree trunk and whose sound hole is merely a narrow slit; or small portable instruments covered with skins and hides, approaching the form of our bass drums and kettledrums. A hypnotic power, such is the universal opinion, comes from such drum playing. The benumbing of the senses arises in part from the sound quality of the vibrating instruments, and in part from.the peculiar method of execution. The roll of the drum which is used in our military music is not characteristic. Much more so is the monotonous succession of similar strokes, which continue unceasingly until the ear is entirely filled with the sounds and the mind becomes confused. The enthralling effect produced by the peculiar rhythm, and the elemental character of the sound, explains the often repeated observation that in the mystic festivals of secret societies and in funeral ceremonies the drums prove to be the most important means of expression. Often have we heard of the horror caused by the giant drums of the Ashantis or on Tahiti, when they gave the sign for the beginning of human sacrifice. Some drums are such sacred instruments that their mere sound scatters the unprivileged, the women and children. Thus in Africa the drum is often a fetish to which the highest veneration is given. There is another group of instruments which equal the most venerated drums in magical power-the whirring instruments. One of these instruments, the Waldteufel, we have all swung in our childhood. . In children's play, old traditions are often kept alive, and so we may well consider whether the Waldteufel is not likewise brought down to us from olden times, when magic was the highest world philosophy. The name, alone, appears to indicate that the sound of this simple instrument can cast a spell over an entire forest, and this demoniac power the Waldteufel still has to-day among some savages. In their buzzing sound they hear the voice of a supernatural being. In New Zealand whirring instruments were used until recently for weather magic and in Western New Guinea they are indispensable in the ceremony of circumcision and in the gatherings of men. "Through the whole of Australia," says Howitt, "the Waldteufel is one of the most sacred and most mysterious of objects which is used in relation to the sacred ceremonies. Neither women nor children-I might even say, in general, no uninitiated persons-dare see it, or they would be threatened with death. Novices are enjoined that in case they acquaint the women and children with it, death will be their lot either through violence or in consequence of magic. The reverent awe with which the initiated regard one of these instruments, when it is sent about to authenticate a message which calls them to a ceremonial gathering, is very striking." We will introduce an illustration here which has a psychological significance. Lenz gives it in his "Sketches from West Africa" regarding the influence of tom-toms: During the dance of the medicine men in Aschuka several young people became ill from the sound of this instrument and the whole exciting scene. They rushed suddenly out of the circle, ran around in the field on all fours like animals, and began to rave; only with difficulty could they be overpowered and taken away. But here in the village, in the horrible dances of the Oganga, there is scarcely any end to these occurences; wherever one looked one of these unfortunates was writhing on the ground, and the old men and women had much to do in order to bring them into their huts. We are accustomed to find rhythm somewhat of a stimulant and inspiration, and the number of work songs also goes to establish such an opinion of it. But examples like those mentioned above show us that, besides the stimulating rhythm, there is also a paralyzing soporific one. The stimulating rhythm may be derived from any regular sound, even such meaningless noises as handclapping and the stamping of feet. For the hypnotic rhythm, on the contrary, the quality of the tone and its mode of expression are of the utmost importance. The stimulating rhythm belongs with a more developed melody, which is either foreign to the hypnotic rhythm or destroys it. We have in the former an art of tones, in the latter the art of tone. In thinking of the strong contrast between these two kinds of music, no doubt can exist that they are derived from entirely different stages of development; the question also arises as to which of the two kinds is the older-the stimulating music or that of hypnotic |