Read Ebook: Music and Its Masters by Boise O B Otis Bardwell

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The masses, in company with prisoners of war and slaves from Central Africa, were mere servitors to the monarchs and priests in executing their ambitious schemes. Although their labor built up indubitable testimony to the greatness of their masters, the burdens imposed upon them century after century finally wore away their fealty; therefore the decadence and downfall of great Egypt. There could not possibly have been anything like art enthusiasm among a people so oppressed. Despite this vital lack, ancient Egypt did more, directly and indirectly, to foster music, and to give it an onward impulse, than all other agencies of the first era combined. This was somewhat attributable to the fact that then, for the first time, tone expression was associated with rhythmic texts; still, I infer that their music was merely an accessory to euphonious declamation,--subservient to poetry,--for had their melodies possessed independent import, those resourceful people would have found some way of recording them. These relations between music and poetry were perpetuated in Greece; indeed, our art was not accorded equality as a contributive element in song until in quite modern times. There have been several distinct epochs in this relationship,--viz., that in which tone expression, because of its little understood capacities was held in vassalage to her sister art; music's equality , during which she greatly extended and beautified her forms; her ascendency, which characterized the vocal works of the early part of the present century; and now the Wagner school, in which the two are again made to collaborate on equal terms.

The ancient Egyptians employed pan pipes, flutes, horns, instruments of percussion, and small harps. Mural pictures of the fourth dynasty represent players blowing upon pipes of different lengths, and consequently of different pitches, which is a dumb declaration that at least some principles regulating the simultaneous use of tones had been recognized. Outside this pictorial record, we can find no intimation that anything analogous to modern harmony was known and practised by this people. In the absence of specific data we are forced to predicate the condition of music in that stupendous, though exclusive, civilization, upon the elements of the atmosphere from which it drew its impulse. As the more prominent of these elements were profound religious feeling, scientific learning, insatiable ambition, and a clearly pronounced lyric tendency, their melodies must have been coherent and expressive.

ARYAN RACE

As the instincts and capacities of the Aryan race have always been unique, it may prove instructive to glance at those features of its prehistoric existence in Asia which have been brought to light through comparative philology and mythology. In the first place, these sciences establish the fact that we of the West and the Hindoos of the East are of common origin. Our ancestors listened to the same legends, ballads, and mythical tales while gathered as children about one and the same mother, and they have handed them down to this generation of the descendants of each so little changed as to furnish ample proof of family relationship. Many of the more important words of the various Aryan languages are suggestively similar, and this in spite of the five thousand years of transmission, and of the diverse conditions incident to the growth of widely separated clans into great nations.

The Aryans were worshippers of Nature in her more spectacular and heroic forms and moods,--in storms, fire, sunset, and dawn, but looked upward for their Supreme Deity. The sky, with its fathomless depths of blue and its star mysteries, was their Zeus. From this it will be seen that they were, in a way, idolaters, but their idolatry was not degrading; it was, indeed, ennobling. They contemplated Nature, and in her processes saw the hand of an all-pervading, beneficent power,--a God. They worshipped the God thus, and in no other way, revealed to them through His works.

Their conceptions of family and community organization have served, and still serve, as models to civilized nations. They were paternal, the clans being large families with patriarchal heads, and elected councillors. They were pastoral, cultivating the soil and herding cattle, sheep, horses, and pigs; but they were at the same time good warriors. They wore leathern shoes, garments woven from wool, and they had at least a rudimentary knowledge of the sciences.

From all this I infer that the early Aryans were a race of freemen, not subject to the class discrimination that ruined Egypt.

Their appreciation of nature, and their reverence, ambition, and pertinacity fitted them to become the especial guardians of the arts, and their comparative class equality enabled them to fulfil the requirements of my theory that music can only flourish in a widely diffused interest and knowledge. It must breathe a genial and suggestive atmosphere.

Our main business is with Aryan music after it came under the influence of Egyptian culture, but it may interest my readers to flash, for a moment, the light of analogy back upon its earlier period. We have found the early Aryans less learned than the Egyptian scholar class, but also less superstitious and less pedantic. They were normal human beings in their occupations, susceptibilities, and social life. With such a picture in view it is quite natural for our imaginations to hear its complement in expressive sounds,--peaceful lullabies, songs of praise and love, and sonorous rejoicings.

In remote times the region which is supposed to have been the original home of the Aryans must have been fertile, for early poets were enthusiastic in describing its charms. The climatic changes that made the soil arid as it is to-day may have suggested, or may even have necessitated, migration; still, what condition or combination of conditions induced the Aryans to abandon Central Asia can never be positively known; but it is certain that they, like irresistible tidal waves, rolled westward and southward, destroying, carrying before them, or absorbing and dominating all peoples and institutions in their course.

One of the streams of Aryan migration flowed towards the south and formed the Hindoo and Persian nations, and another came into Europe by way of the Hellespont and took up its abode in Greece and Italy. Three others, the Celtic, Teutonic, and Slavonic, followed in the order named, passing to the north of the Black Sea, and occupied respectively Western, Central, and Eastern Europe.

Of all the nations who have developed from these original nuclei, the Hindoos show least evidence of close intercourse with the world's great teacher, whereas the Greeks, perhaps because of their proximity to Egypt, were led to avail themselves of her tuition to the fullest extent.

The ancient Hindoos were less scientific than the Chinese or Egyptians, and isolation has prevented them from advancing with modern civilization. Their music is less the fruit of theories than it is of natural Aryan impulse. They do not look upon it as a science, but as a matter of the emotions, the result of, and intended to quicken, the imagination. I have seen Hindoo melodies which exhibited a correct appreciation of rhythmic adjustment, still their accomplishments do not entitle them to a place among the potent factors in musical evolution.

Now we come to the climax of our first era. Such a true conception of beauty, such perfect symmetry, and such far-reaching imagination and lofty aspiration as are present in, and have made ancient Greek art and literature luminous for all time, bespeak conditions that would have carried music to fruition during their continuance had she not been so intangible, and therefore necessarily slow in developing. Had her nature been less coy, we might have ancient Greek music as monumental as the Iliad or the Parthenon.

The Greeks were quick to recognize the virtues of Egyptian learning, and Greece soon became great Egypt's greater pupil. Still, we should accord Egypt first place among the factors that built up modern civilization and led to the formulation of musical art, for she originated the vital impulse.

That period of Greek culture supremacy dispensed no laurels to its mothers, wives, and daughters. Woman was regarded as an inferior being, and she took no honorable part in intellectual social life. Boys were exhaustively educated, while girls were neglected. This was the one blot on the glory of those times, and we, besides deprecating the injustice it involved, must regret that these ancient art-workers denied themselves that highest earthly source of inspiration, intercourse with the delicate enthusiasm, the keen perceptions, and art instinct of educated and loved womanhood; for to what heights might their achievements have attained but for this misconception of woman's nature and capacities!

One would think that Sappho's lyrics, which induced Plato to call her the "Tenth Muse," would have suggested the existence, in woman's purer and more sensitive nature, of a subtle vein of beautiful intellectuality, but such was not the case. Judging from what we have seen of early Aryan family life, this unpractical and debasing idea of suppressing woman must have been imbibed with Egyptian learning.

Music was taught in the Greek schools, and youths were thus fitted to join in the sacred choruses, and to appreciate the significance of poetry. The immortal bards sang their creations, and they often remained unwritten for generations. The drama developed from songs and dances. Music was a prominent feature of their symposiums, the lyre being passed from guest to guest, each contributing of his best to the intellectual feast. Banquets were brought to a close by singing hymns. Music pervaded each function of Hellenic life.

Greece succeeded Egypt as the world's teacher, and her precepts gain significance as advancing culture enables us to better comprehend the fine adjustment of imagination to nature which they embody. Her sculpture, architecture, and literature are the highest models that we have, and those of our architects who appreciate the import of monumental buildings look to ancient Greece for appropriate inspiration.

Is it not reasonable and logical to assume that the spirit of Greece's unwritten musical forms has been preserved, passed from nation to nation, and from generation to generation, and that it underlies our present classical school? I say spirit in speaking of musical transmission, for music's resources and outward forms were, in the Homeric period, and still are, in course of development.

It would be a waste of space to discuss the musical doings of other European nations during this period. Those that did least to prepare the way have been most active since our art took shape. As great as Italy's services have been since the sixteenth century , she did little for music previous to that time. St. Ambrose, of Milan , and St. Gregory, of Rome , ordained rituals, prayers, music, etc., but there is no detailed record of their achievements, therefore no authentic Gregorian chants.

The Old Testament is a chronicle of the growth, movements, physical and mental habits, and religious status of the great Jewish race. Its religion with one Godhead, whose immediate presence was often felt, its music addressed to this presence, and its family, tribal, and racial organizations were all Jewish. The great moving lever of Jewish existence was a religion whose creed prohibited the making of "graven images," so painting and sculpture were not cultivated; it recognized the direct agency of supreme will in moulding daily events, and prescribed oft-repeated praise and prayer, and thus created the atmosphere of exalted devotional feeling which we find recorded in many of the books of the Bible, and which climaxed in David's Psalms.

The ancient Hebrews were in no measure a scientific people. Their one intellectual aspiration found vent in beautifying the worship of God. They were religious teachers, who have directly or indirectly shaped the creeds of the civilized world.

According to the conditions upon which I have thus far based my theories of musical evolution, early Jewish songs could not have been equal, in artistic merit, to the texts with which they were associated, for there was an utter lack, in this race, of such general culture and art sense as we found prevailing in ancient Egypt; but the Hebrews were a race apart, and their unique instincts may have made their music an exception to all rules.

Their song-impulse was confined to one line, but it was so strong that it projected itself from conception, in religious enthusiasm, to a high grade of fulfilment without touching the low plane of their general culture; nevertheless, the above-mentioned short-comings and the subsequent decadence of race nationality relegate Hebrew music to a low place as an influence upon the world's song.

They had men who devoted themselves to the playing of instruments as an accompaniment to song, and the Bible mentions more varieties of instruments than can be found in profane history of those times. Worship was such an important feature of Jewish life, and praise was so essential an element in their worship, that the masses must have learned and sung those great lyrics which to-day represent the culmination of human awe, reverence, prayer, and thanksgiving. It is impossible to imagine David singing his psalms to crude or inadequate musical settings.

Here we have a situation apparently full of vital contradictions. Most of the influences which have proven themselves necessary to the development of music were wanting, and still there is evidence that it had grown to be an expressive means. The Jews were actuated by profound religious feeling and by an exquisite sense of nature's forms. No poet has yet equalled David's simple but beautiful appreciation of the universe, and of its influence upon mankind.

The Jews of Poland, Spain, and Germany have diverse musical settings of the Psalms, so there is no traceable line of inheritance from David. This line has been obliterated by the changes incident to generations of unassisted memory. That there may be rare exceptions to this rule of change in form during extended oral transmission was abundantly proven recently by a German Hebrew musician and scholar. He played me an unwritten Passover hymn which his father had always sung at that festival time, and told me that he had not long before been entertained by a Spanish Hebrew, who sang the same melody tone for tone. This gentleman's hearing and memory are so absolute that there is no question to be raised as to this case; but as far as my investigations have gone, it stands alone.

The composer of the nineteenth century can nowhere else find such earnest and suggestive texts as in the Old Testament. They voice the hopes, sorrows, despair, reverence, and joys of our hearts just as aptly as they did those of the Hebrew bards who wrote them thousands of years ago. Their natural and direct method of expressing the emotions, and their incomparable elevation of spirit, make them appeal especially strongly to the musician, whose flights of imagination start from these emotions.

Some writers have endeavored to solve the problem presented by Hebrew music in the midst of incongruous conditions by attributing its development to the influence of presumable intercourse with prehistoric Egyptian civilization. This does not appear logical, for Hebrew music seems to have been little, if at all, affected by the continued direct contact during the long sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt.

The Jewish and Egyptian characters were so diametrically opposed that their emotional forms of expression could not possibly have followed common lines.

Intercourse with Egyptians did not impart even a scientific impulse to the Hebrew mind. It is therefore safe to conclude that my previously mentioned hypothesis--that the force of their impulses carried Jewish music and poetry to unique positions, as compared with those of their other arts and branches of learning--is worthy of credence.

The first mention of music is made in Genesis iv. 21. Jubal, the son of Lamech and Adah, is described as the "father of all such as handle the harp and organ." Jubal was of the seventh generation of Adam's descendants, and the world was, according to Biblical records, in its second century of existence. These "harps and organs" were doubtless similar to those depicted in pictures painted in the fourth Egyptian dynasty. The first named were frames upon which one or, at most, a very limited number of strings were stretched, and the "organs" were pan-pipes . The pan-pipes were probably played in unison with the voice, whereas the primitive harp was used, with the existing instruments of percussion, to mark rhythms only.

All historians agree in their deductions as to the order in which the several classes of instruments made their appearance on the musical stage. As rhythm is the heart pulsation of music, it naturally took hold of the first singers of in any measure formulated melody, leading to swaying of the body, clapping of the hands, stamping of the feet, and quickly suggested the employment of other resonant means for marking its progress. Our drums were at first only hollow pieces of wood, our cymbals, triangle, and gong may have had double duties,--musical and culinary,--and our harp and piano were anticipated by single strings stretched to yield a sonorous tone regardless of pitch.

Next came the wind instruments,--at first single reeds blown to mark rhythms, then pan-pipes, and much later single pipes provided with finger-holes like the unimproved flute. Last of all came the instruments from which the tones are drawn by passing a bow over the strings. The idea of adapting the vibrating length of strings to a desired pitch, through pressing them down upon a fingerboard, is comparatively modern. These general classes took on numerous forms and were made from various materials.

The existence of Jubal and his musical line of descendants bespeaks a wide-spread interest in and use of song, but Genesis yields no further enlightenment, no texts, nor any other allusions to the subject of music.

Exodus xv. furnishes the next mention. The treacherous quicksands of the Red Sea having swallowed up the Egyptians, Moses and the children of Israel join in a song of rejoicing and thanksgiving to God, to whose direct interposition they ascribe their deliverance. The song as recorded is too circumstantial to have been spontaneous. Moses, in writing his account of the occurrence, doubtless embodied the sentiments which burst forth from the hearts of his people in the presence of the event in a more orderly and more amplified form. The sentiments are lofty, and the effect produced by the singing of that vast chorus of just rescued was, beyond compare, the grandest focus of human enthusiasm that the world has witnessed; for Moses had six hundred thousand fighting men alone.

"Miriam the prophetess," after the song, or during lapses in the singing, to incite the throng to renewed efforts, "took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dancing. And Miriam answered them, Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea." The timbrels were drums, probably much like our tambourines in size and shape.

The trumpet is mentioned three times in the nineteenth and twentieth chapters of Exodus in connection with the delivery to Moses of the Commandments. The last occasion is after the consummation of this universe-shaping ceremony,--viz., "And all the people saw the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking."

The thirty-second and thirty-third chapters of Deuteronomy contain one of the Bible's most sombre lyrics. Moses, whose life has been devoted to the welfare of the Israelites, who has for forty years struggled to overcome in them the demoralization incident to centuries of bondage, sings there a parting song to his people, for they are about to enter into possession of the promised land, which happiness is denied him. Could a sadder picture be imagined than this good man, so little confident in the fruits of his past teaching, exhorting the Israelites for the last time?

It would make my sketch tiresome to burden it with the less important musical events chronicled in sacred history, like the songs of Deborah, Hannah, etc., so I shall skip four centuries, the musical exercises of which seem to have been marked by no extraordinary occurrences, unless we accept the fall of Jericho as a musical phenomenon.

There is in much earnest music a substratum of "ecclesiastical tone," for the deeper strings of cultivated human responsiveness are attuned to worship. Our relation as creatures to God, the Creator, is the prime factor in inducing this condition, but next to it Biblical song most influences the trend of high musical aspiration. These influences are insidious, and their fruits do not necessarily betoken design on the part of the composer, who may be not at all devout; but he, having imbibed, in common with civilized mankind, the spirit of religion, it permeates, and to some extent characterizes, his highest efforts.

As long as man continues to write music David will not cease to be one of the moving levers in shaping his conceptions. This ecclesiastical tone, when present, does not usually manifest itself in themes, nor in their contrapuntal development, but in the harmonic outlines upon which these elements rest. David is supposed to have written the larger number of the one hundred and fifty Psalms that have come down to us, and it may be interesting to trace some of the musical colors suggested by his more clearly manifested moods. They mirror the deepest recesses of his God-fearing and paternal heart.

The thirteenth Psalm is a wail of sorrow, which is saved from sinking to despair by David's memory of past mercies. This latter element is analogous in this case to the major harmonies in our modern minor keys, which lend suggestions of coming brightness to our darkest tone pictures.

The twenty-third consists of pastoral similes, which follow each other with quiet but ever-increasing intensity. It is as full of restful confidence and self-contained energy as the slow movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. It is too sustained in its sequential progress to afford the contrasts so essential to composers of mediocre ability, which may account for the desecrations of which it has been the subject. Nothing so tests the calibre of a musician as logically growing continuity. This Psalm would have found an ideal setting in Bach's lofty serenity.

The spirit of exultation in the praise of the Almighty, which is present in even the sadder moments of David's song, flashing light through its doubts and sorrows, breaks into effulgent glory in the ninety-eighth Psalm, which has probably received more attention from composers than any other Biblical text. It has inspired much wonderful music, but a misconception of the spirit which prompted the last verse has become traditional.

The psalmist did not invoke the floods to clap their hands, and the hills to be joyful together before the Lord, in order to propitiate God, but to express the joy he felt in anticipating the advent of Him who should "judge the people with equity." To be consistent, the composer should set this sentiment in broad grandeur, as the culmination of his musical scheme.

These examples will suffice to illustrate, in a superficial way, the suggestive richness of David's Psalms.

Isaiah, in chapter v. 12, says, "And the harp and the viol, the tabret and pipe, and wine, are in their feasts;" indeed, the prophet makes repeated references to music, but not in such manner as to endow his chronicle with special import to us.

I will close this chapter with two instances from the New Testament. The first occurred in connection with the Lord's Supper,--viz., after the administration of the sacrament, and when they had sung a hymn they went out into the Mount of Olives. This quiet hymn will not cease to echo through the universe until we are enabled to realize St. John's vision of heavenly music, which as described in Revelation would form a fitting climax to earthly musical effort.

The sweep of events in this new era has been so grand in its cumulative momentum and high tendency, that one is quite as much embarrassed by its richness in data as by the poverty of the older period.

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