or whistle as bird catchers. Just as clever magic pictures of the primitive hunting art consisted of the drawings in caves and on rocks the sound magic art was represented by the celebrated animal pantomimes, in which the animal voices were reproduced with much

exactness.

A word may be said regarding these pantomimes. It was formerly a favorite idea of the culture theorists, that in the animal pantomime something like a foreshadowing of a universal art work was to be seen and hence an uninteresting art performance. As a result of the observations of Lichtenstein, Catlin, and Reade that view is no longer possible. Yrjö Hirn in his book on the origin of art remarks quite correctly that "the pantomimes have in reality just as practical a purpose as the lifelike pictures of animals with which hunters in all parts of the world endeavored to attract their game within reach. în accordance with the theory of sympathetic magic it is merely a selfevident fact that the representation of a thing at any distance can influence the thing itself, and that in this way a buffalo dance, even performed in the camp, can compel the buffaloes to come within reach of the hunters.

The deceptive appearance of an absence of utility, which in this case could lead to the error of mistaking a mere example of hunting magic for a display of pure dramatic art, makes one cautious about regarding any performance of primitive men as purely esthetic.

Sound magic, however, also arrived at a mystic stage in which it no longer sought to exorcise visible beings but demons. We have learned to recognize some of the phenomena of this stage, for example, the use of "bull roarers" by weather magicians. In the same manner the Basutos employ their rain flutes in times of drought. Other primitive peoples by whipping the water imitate the sound of rain which they may thus bewitch. Very instructive as regards this psychology is an anecdote which Mason relates of the Pueblo Indians. In making a sounding vessel the women imitate with their voices the sound of a well-burned vessel in order that these good qualities may be carried over to the unfinished piece.

A noteworthy sound-magic phenomenon which is reported of the Arabs gives us a clew as to how the originally so naturalistic belief slowly changes into the animistic. To the Arabs whistling is somewhat sinful. In whistling sounds they hear the "whispering of the spirits." The sound of the wind is to them the voice of the departed. It follows, therefore, quite properly that the spirits which are, however, feared are called by whistling. When the traveler Burckhardt whistled before the Hejazis they believed that he spoke with the devil.

The sound magic finally became fully mystic and occult in the fetish drums and their curious manipulation. This mystic sound

magic is related to the natural magic of primitive times just as in Egyptian art the strongly stylistic form of the new empire is to the realistic natural form of the older. If we compare with the crudely simple rhythm of an incessantly beaten fetish drum, the dramatically presented complexity of a swiftly moving animal pantomime, the later state of musical development displayed in the drumming appears as an almost incomprehensible impoverishment. But there also Egypt is to be remembered. The rigid style of the new empire only appears cruder when we separate the works from their environment. In the cultural entity it is shown that what is historically later is also higher as regards development. The richest animal pantomimes themselves in all their complexity do not go beyond the imitation of noises, but the rudest fetish drumming itself offers, instead of noise, tone. Here music first takes its beginning as art. In the monotony of a tone-art realized by the shaman the hearing found its first methodical schooling, and so here also the later is the higher from an evolutionary standpoint in spite of all apparent degeneration.

In the magical and mystical fetish drumming we observe for the first time how that element comes forth more strongly which in the following epoch dominates the whole musical development—namely, rhythm. The next problem as regards culture history would be then to determine how from this rhythm, which is strange to us, could spring the one we know.

I believe here a significant remark of Livingstone's which is found in the books is of great importance. Livingstone said that in his caravan he had been able easily to pick out the former slaves from all the rest. The sound of the drums and of the kudu horns appeared to call up a kind of "esprit de corps" in all those who were once slaves. It is not a very pleasing idea to think of a music which passes threateningly over the heads of the natives like a whip. But the tone-art has also gone through this metamorphosis.

To repeat, there are two kinds of rhythm for us to recognize; the free and refreshing rhythm of a later time and the doleful, disquieting rhythm of an earlier day. In the doleful rhythm of the sacred percussion instruments, like the drums, there was given to the shaman a power from the influence of which only those with the strongest wills could remain sheltered. Bücher is opposed to the supposition that such a will can be practiced as a power only by a ruling cast, by a stronger stock, which dominates over the weaker and presses them into its service. It may be that more extensive data must be collected as a foundation for this assertion. The probabilities even to-day, however, point toward the truth of the two-class theory, as applying to the distant antiquity of the Old Stone Age. This is certainly true, that the development of the tonal-art, as long as music

consisted of rhythm, derived all its essential qualities, not from the conflict between shaman and layman, but that between lord and slave, between command and labor.

The history of the refrain shows us how this rude rhythm disappears more and more, and how music as melody constantly gains in extent and significance. The oldest refrain divides the work songs measure by measure with the precision of clockwork. Their rhythm is as monotonous as that of the drum, and they themselves are so completely mere sound, and not melody, that Bücher designates them as mere animal cries-the groans of labor become, as it were, tone. In the strange conflict between the little interspersed particles of melody and the recurring dull rhythm of the refrain ethnologists are able to read many things. The free style of the leader is an expression of the dominating and compelling caste, which is more mature as regards development. The rigid regularity of the refrain, however, forced upon the chorus, is the whip-rhythm of Livingstone. It is that hypnotic music which was taken from the shaman by the secular power, and by this the secular power held the masses in bondage.

We have seen how the beginnings of music as an art lay enthralled, and have sought the outlet which led from this condition of captivity to greater freedom. No savage people, so long as they remain uninfluenced, can rise above a certain grade of horizontal, twodimension music. It is Europe, and the dominating races of the north of Europe, that have rendered this decisive service. This possibility arose from the purer, more intellectual atmosphere, which developed the gloomy death cult of earlier times into the freedom of the sun cult. From the cave cult of the south and of the less developed races has come the high cult of the north. The thought and feeling of the northern races was joined to a freer and broader cosmogony, and to this greater freedom we owe the beginnings of our European music.

so,

EXPEDITION TO THE SOUTH POLE.1

By ROALD AMUNDSEN.

The plan of the third Fram expedition was twofold: First, the attainment of the South Pole, and, second, the exploration of the north polar regions. This evening I have the honor to report to you on the accomplishment of the first part of this plan.

I can only briefly mention here the expeditions which have worked in the region which we had selected for our starting point. As we wished to reach the South Pole, our first problem was to go south as far as possible with our ship and there establish our station. Even the sled journeys would be long enough. I knew that the English expedition would again choose their old winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, South Victoria Land, as their starting point. From newspaper report it was known that the Japanese had selected King Edward VII Land. In order to avoid these two expeditions we had to establish our station on the Great Ice Barrier as far as possible from the starting points of the two other expeditions.

The Great Ice Barrier, also called the Ross Barrier, lies between South Victoria Land and King Edward VII Land and has an extent of about 515 miles. The first to reach this mighty ice formation was Sir James Clark Ross in 1841. He did not dare approach the great ice wall, 100 feet high, with his two sailing ships, the Erebus and the Terror, whose progress southward was impeded by this mighty obstacle. He examined the ice wall from a distance, however, as far as possible. His observations showed that the Barrier is not a continuous, abrupt ice wall, but is interrupted by bays and small channels. On Ross's map a bay of considerable magnitude may be seen.

The next expedition was that of the Southern Cross in 1900. It is interesting to note that this party found the bay mentioned above at the same place where Ross had seen it in 1841, nearly 60 years before; that this expedition also was able to land a few miles to the

1 Lecture delivered in German by Roald Amundsen before the Berlin Geographical Society on Oct. 9, 1912. Translated and reprinted from the Zeitschr. der Gesell. für Erdkunde zu Berlin, 1912, No. 7, pp. 481-498. Here reprinted by permission from Bulletin of the American Geographical Society, vol. 44, No. 11, November, 1912. New York, pp. 822-838.

2 All values have been changed from the metric system to English equivalents.

1

east of the large bay in a small bay, named Balloon Bight, and from there to ascend the Ice Barrier, which heretofore had been considered an insurmountable obstacle to further advance toward the south.

In 1901 the Discovery steamed along the Barrier and confirmed in every respect what the Southern Cross had observed. Land was also discovered in the direction indicated by Ross, namely, King Edward VII Land. Scott, too, landed in Balloon Bight, and, like his predecessors, saw the large bay to the west.

In 1908 Shackleton arrived there on the Nimrod. He, too, followed along the edge of the Ice Barrier. He came to the conclusion that disturbances had taken place in the Ice Barrier. The shore line of Balloon Bight, he thought, had changed and merged with the large bay to the west. This large bay, which he thought to be of recent origin, he named Bay of Whales. He gave up his original plan of landing there, as the Ice Barrier appeared to him too dangerous for the establishment of winter quarters.

It was not difficult to determine that the bay shown on Ross's map and the so-called Bay of Whales are identical; it was only necessary to compare the two maps. Except for a few pieces that had broken off from the Barrier, the bay had remained the same for the last 70 years. It was therefore possible to assume that the bay did not owe its origin to chance and that it must be underlain by land, either in the form of sand banks or otherwise.

This bay we decided upon as our base of operations. It lies 400 miles from the English station in McMurdo Sound and 115 miles from King Edward VII Land. We could therefore assume that we should be far enough from the English sphere of interest and need not fear crossing the route of the English expedition. The reports concerning the Japanese station on King Edward VII Land were indefinite. We took it for granted, however, that a distance of 115 miles would suffice.

On August 9, 1910, we left Norway on the Fram, the ship that had originally been built for Nansen. We had 97 superb Eskimo dogs and provisions for two years. The first harbor we reached was Madeira. There the last preparations were made for our voyage to the Ross Barrier-truly not an insignificant distance which we had to cover, namely, 16,000 nautical miles from Norway to the Bay of Whales. We had estimated that this trip would require five months. The Fram, which has justly been called the stanchest polar ship in the world, on this voyage across practically all of the oceans proved herself to be extremely seaworthy. Thus we traversed without a single mishap the regions of the northeast and of the southeast trades, the stormy seas of the "roaring forties," the fogs of the fifties, the ice-filled sixties, and reached our field of work at the Ice Barrier on January 14, 1911. Everything had gone splendidly.