Indian Story And Song Part 8

_p.a.w.nee._

Transcribed from Graphophone record and Harmonized by E.S. TRACY.

Ho o Kawas ta wha-ka ra-tsa we Kawas ta wha-ka ra-tsa we Ah he-wi! wha-ka ra-tsa we, Kawas ta wha-ka-ra tsa we.]

The words are in the nature of a prayer, the music has the swing of a lullaby.

Kawas, thy baby is crying!

Grieving sore, wailing, and weeping.

Aye, forsooth! wailing and weeping, Kawas, thy baby is crying!

Then the bearers took up the "calumets" and moved with slow rhythmic steps toward the crying child, singing as they went and swaying the sacred symbols to the measure of this song. Its meaning was explained to me as follows:--

"Hah-ars (a contraction of the word meaning father) signifies Ti-ra'-wa, the power that animates all things, all animals, all men, the heavens, and the earth. Ti-ra'-wa is represented by the Hako (the 'calumets'), and it is this power which now approaches to console the child."

In the music one hears the coming of Ti-ra'-wa in the footsteps of his creatures, both great and small.

Thy father is coming, E'en now he is near thee; Cry no more: the mighty one, Thy father, is coming!

[Music: THY FATHER IS COMING.

_p.a.w.nee._

Transcribed from Graphophone record and Harmonized by E.S. TRACY.

Ho Hah-ars si-rah ti we-ra, Hah-ars si-ra ti we-ra Re-ko ji!

He ti we-ra, Hah-ars si-ra ti we-ra.]

Upon reaching the child, the golden eagle "calumet" was gently swayed above it, while in the background the other "calumet" was waved to ward off disturbing influences, and the priests sang this song. It is said that on hearing it "the child always looks up and ceases its crying."

The caressing, almost playful rhythm of the music twines about the deep religious feeling expressed in the words, like the arms of an infant about the neck of its thoughtful, reverent parent.

Lift thine eyes, 'tis the G.o.ds who come near, Bringing thee joy, release from all pain.

Sending sorrow and sighing Far from the child, Ti-ra'-wa makes fain.

Ah, you look! Surely, you know who comes, Claiming you his and bidding you rise, Blithely smiling and happy, Child of Ti-ra'-wa, Lord of the skies!

[Music: LOOK UP!

_p.a.w.nee._

Transcribed from Graphophone record, and Harmonized by E.S. TRACY.

Ho Ha!

Is-te wa-ta si wi-ta ha, Ha! Is-te wa-ta si wi-ta ha Hah-ars hi re wa-ha-ki, Ha! Is-te wa-ta si wi-ta ha.]

MUSIC IN INDIAN LIFE.

Music enveloped the Indian's individual and social life like an atmosphere. There was no important personal experience where it did not bear a part, nor any ceremonial where it was not essential to the expression of religious feeling. The songs of a tribe were coextensive with the life of the people.

This universal use of music was because of the belief that it was a medium of communication between man and the unseen. The invisible voice could reach the invisible power that permeates all nature, animating all natural forms. As success depended upon help from this mysterious power, in every avocation, in every undertaking, and in every ceremonial, the Indian appealed to this power through song. When a man went forth to hunt, that he might secure food and clothing for his family, he sang songs to insure the a.s.sistance of the unseen power in capturing the game. In like manner, when he confronted danger and death, he sang that strength might be given him to meet his fate unflinchingly. In gathering the healing herbs and in administering them, song brought the required efficacy. When he planted, he sang, in order that the seed might fructify and the harvest follow. In his sports, in his games, when he wooed and when he mourned, song alike gave zest to pleasure and brought solace to his suffering. In fact, the Indian sang in every experience of life from his cradle to his grave.

It would be a mistake to fancy that songs floated indiscriminately about among the Indians, and could be picked up here and there by any chance observer. Every song had originally its owner. It belonged either to a society, secular or religious, to a certain clan or political organization, to a particular rite or ceremony, or to some individual.

Religious songs were known only to the priesthood; and, as music const.i.tuted a medium between man and the unseen powers which controlled his life, literal accuracy was important, otherwise the path between the G.o.d and the man would not be straight, and the appeal would miscarry.

In every tribe there were societies having a definite membership, with initiatory rites and reciprocal duties. Each society had its peculiar songs; and there were officials chosen from among the members because of their good voices and retentive memories, to lead the singing and to transmit with accuracy the stories and songs of the society, which frequently preserved bits of tribal history. Fines were imposed upon any member who sang incorrectly, while ridicule always and everywhere followed a faulty rendering of a song.

The right to sing a song which belonged to an individual could be purchased, the person buying the song being taught it by its owner.

These beliefs and customs among the Indians have made it possible to preserve their songs without change from one generation to another.

Many curious and interesting proofs of accuracy of transmittal have come to my knowledge during the past twenty years, while studying these primitive melodies.

Indian singing was always in unison; and, as the natural soprano, contralto, tenor, and ba.s.s moved along in octaves, the different qualities of tone in the voices brought out the overtones and produced harmonic effects. When listening to chorals sung by two or three hundred voices, as I have many times heard them in ceremonials, it has been difficult to realise that all were singing in unison.

Close and continued observation has revealed that the Indian, when he sings, is not concerned with the making of a musical presentation to his audience. He is simply pouring out his feelings, regardless of artistic effects. To him music is subjective: it is the vehicle of communication between him and the object of his desire.

Certain peculiarities in the Indian's mode of singing make it difficult for one of our race to intelligently hear their songs or to truthfully transcribe them.

There is no uniform key for any given song, for the Indians have no mechanical device for determining pitch to create a standard by which to train the ear. This, however, does not affect the song; for, whatever the starting note, the intervals bear the same relation to each other, so that the melody itself suffers no change with the change of pitch.

Again, the continual slurring of the voice from one tone to another produces upon us the impression of out-of-tune singing. Then, the custom of singing out of doors, to the accompaniment of the drum, and against the various noises of the camp, and the ever-restless wind, tending to strain the voice and robbing it of sweetness, increases the difficulty of distinguishing the music concealed within the noise,--a difficulty still further aggravated by the habit of pulsating the voice, creating a rhythm within the rhythm of the song.

Emotion also affects the rendering of Indian music. This is especially noticeable in solos, as love-songs, where the singer quite unconsciously varies from a quarter to a whole tone from the true pitch. On the contrary, emphasis sharps the tone. If, however, these peculiarities are imitated to him, the Indian immediately detects, and declares them to be wrong, thus betraying his unconsciousness of his own inaccuracies in endeavouring to strike a plain diatonic interval.

Our difficulty in hearing the music of the Indian is equalled by the trouble he has with our instruments. His attention is engaged by the mechanism. He hears the thud of the hammer, "the drum inside" the piano, the tw.a.n.ging of the metal strings, and the abrupt, disconnected tones. Until he is able to ignore these noises he cannot recognise the most familiar tune. Even then, if his songs are played as an unsupported aria, they are unsatisfactory to him. His ear misses something it heard in the unison singing of his people, and which the addition of a simple harmonic accompaniment supplies, making the melody, as he says, "sound natural." The discovery of the Indian's preference in the rendition of his songs upon the piano led to many experiments, in which Professor Fillmore took part, and that brought to light many interesting facts. Among these facts may be mentioned the complexity of rhythms, one played against the other; the modulation implied in some of the melodies; the preference for a major chord in closing a minor song; and the use of certain harmonic relations which have been deemed peculiar to the modern romantic school.

As these melodies are the spontaneous utterances of a people without any theory of music or even a musical notation, they throw light upon the structure, development, and freedom of natural expression in music.

THE RELATION OF STORY AND SONG.

The rise of our music and poetry is lost in an irrevocable past; but, as the operation of psychical laws is universal, it may be that some of the influences that have been operative in the growth of these arts can be discovered through the study of native American story and song, born of a race living in a state of culture antecedent to that in which our earliest literature and music flourished.

Within a generation diligent search has begun among some of the Indian tribes, to ascertain, through a sympathetic study of rites, ceremonies, and customs, what were the red man's ideals, what his beliefs, and what his actual attainments. Already this labour is bearing fruit. Scholars are recognising that the aboriginal conditions on this continent throw light on the slow development of human society and its inst.i.tutions; and the time seems not distant when students of man's culture will turn hither for evidence needed to fill gaps or to explain phases in the development of art,--art in form, in colour, and in melody,--for, it has been well said, America is the "fossil bed"

where are preserved stages of progress unrecorded in written history.

In Indian story and song we come upon a time where poetry is not yet differentiated from story and story not yet set free from song. We note that the song clasps the story as a part of its being, and the story itself is not fully told without the cadence of the song. Yet in even the most primitive examples a line of demarcation can be discerned; and when this line has deepened, and differentiation has begun, we are able to trace the formative influence exerted by story upon song and by song upon story, and can observe what appear to be the beginnings of musical and poetical structure.

The brevity of Indian songs at once arrests attention. They begin without introduction, almost abruptly, breaking out upon us as though surcharged. This peculiarity arises from the relation of the song to the story. The story is always founded upon a dramatic circ.u.mstance, in which at some point the emotion is forced to find a means of expression beyond the limitation of words alone; and the song is the result. This dramatic circ.u.mstance may be a danger confronted or averted, a valorous deed achieved or a difficulty surmounted, a religious experience or an ardent craving for supernatural aid. The Omaha tribal prayer will serve as an ill.u.s.tration, where the cry to Wa-ko_n_-da is the climatic voicing of the youth's desire in the midst of his weary vigil and fasting. His long preparation for the rite, the solitude of his surroundings, the suffering of mind and body as alone he faces nature and the supernatural,--all these conditions make the story, and, to the Indian, form the true setting of the song.