Musical Myths and Facts Volume I Part 7

In the mythology of the Hindus the G.o.d Nareda is the inventor of the _vina_, the princ.i.p.al national musical instrument of Hindustan.

Saraswati, the consort of Brahma, may be considered as the Minerva of the Hindus. She is the G.o.ddess of music as well as of speech. To her is attributed the invention of the systematic arrangement of the sounds into a musical scale. She is represented seated on a peac.o.c.k and playing on a stringed instrument of the guitar kind. Brahma himself we find depicted as a vigorous man with four handsome heads, beating with his hands upon a small drum. And Vishnu, in his incarnation as Krishna, is represented as a beautiful youth playing upon a flute. The Hindus still possess a peculiar kind of flute which they consider as the favourite instrument of Krishna. Furthermore, they have the divinity of Gen[=e]sa, the G.o.d of wisdom, who is represented as a man with the head of an elephant holding in his hands a tamboura--a kind of lute with a long neck.

Among the Chinese we meet with a tradition according to which they obtained their musical scale from a miraculous bird called Foung-hoang, which appears to have been a sort of Phoenix. As regards the invention of musical instruments, the Chinese have various traditions. In one of these we are told that the origin of some of their most popular instruments dates from the period when China was under the dominion of heavenly spirits called Ki. Another a.s.signs the invention of several of their stringed instruments to the great Fohi, called "the Son of Heaven," who was, it is said, the founder of the Chinese empire, and who is stated to have lived about B. C. 3000, which was long after the dominion of the Ki, or spirits. Again, another tradition holds that the most important Chinese musical instruments, and the systematic arrangement of the tones, are an invention of Niuva, a supernatural female, who lived at the time of Fohi, and who was a virgin-mother. When Confucius, the great Chinese philosopher, happened to hear on a certain occasion some divine music, he became so greatly enraptured that he could not take any food for three months afterwards. The music which produced this miraculous effect was that of Kouei, the Orpheus of the Chinese, whose performance on the _king_, a kind of harmonicon constructed of slabs of sonorous stone, would draw wild animals around him and make them subservient to his will.

The j.a.panese have a beautiful tradition according to which the Sun-G.o.ddess, in resentment of the violence of an evil-disposed brother, retired into a cave, leaving the universe in darkness and in anarchy; when the beneficent G.o.ds, in their concern for the welfare of mankind, devised music to lure her forth from the retreat, and their efforts soon proved successful.[7]

The Kalmuks, in the vicinity of the Caspian Sea, adore a beneficent divinity, called Maidari, who is represented as a rather jovial-looking man, with a moustache and an imperial, playing upon an instrument with three strings, somewhat resembling the Russian balalaika.

Almost all these ancient conceptions we meet with also among European nations, though more or less modified.

Odin, the princ.i.p.al deity of the ancient Scandinavians, was the inventor of magic songs and Runic writings.

In the Finnish mythology the divine Vainamoinen is said to have constructed the five-stringed harp, called kantele, the old national instrument of the Finns. The frame he made out of the bones of the pike, and the teeth of the pike he used for the tuning-pegs. The strings he made of hair from the tail of a spirited horse. When the harp fell into the sea, and was lost, he made another, the frame of which was of birchwood, with pegs made out of the branch of an oak-tree. As strings for this harp he used the silky hair of a young girl. Vainamoinen took his harp, and sat down on a hill near a silvery brook. There he played with so irresistible an effect that he entranced whatever came within hearing of his music. Men and animals listened enraptured; the wildest beasts of the forest lost their ferocity; the birds of the air were drawn towards him; the fishes rose to the surface of the water, and remained immovable; the trees ceased to wave their branches; the brook r.e.t.a.r.ded its course, and the wind its haste; even the mocking echo approached stealthily, and listened with the utmost attention to the heavenly sounds. Soon the women began to cry; then the old men and the children also began to cry; and the girls, and the young men--all cried for delight. At last Vainamoinen himself wept; and his big tears ran over his beard, and rolled into the water, and became beautiful pearls at the bottom of the sea.

Several other musical G.o.ds or G.o.dlike musicians could be cited, and, moreover, innumerable minor spirits, all bearing evidence that music is of divine origin.

True, people who think themselves more enlightened than their forefathers smile at these old traditions, and say that the original home of music is the human heart. Be it so. But do not the purest and most beautiful conceptions of man partake of a divine character? Is not the art of music generally acknowledged to be one of these? And is it not, therefore, even independently of myths and mysteries, ent.i.tled to be called the divine art?

CURIOUS COINCIDENCES.

It is a suggestive fact that several nations in different parts of the world possess an ancient tradition, according to which some harp-like instrument was originally derived from the water.

The Scandinavian G.o.d Odin, the originator of magic songs, is mentioned as the ruler of the sea; and as such he had the name of Nikarr. In the depth of the sea he played the harp with his subordinate spirits, who occasionally came up to the surface of the water to teach some favoured human being their wonderful instrument.

Vainamoinen, the divine player on the Finnish kantele, according to the Kalewala, the old national aepos of the Finns, constructed the first instrument of this kind of fish-bones.

Hermes, it will be remembered, made his lyre, the chelys, of a tortoise-sh.e.l.l.

In Hindu mythology the G.o.d Nareda invented the vina, a five-stringed instrument, considered as the princ.i.p.al national instrument of the Hindus, which has also the name _kach'-hapi_, signifying a tortoise.

Moreover _nara_ denotes in Sanskrit "water," and _Narada_ or _Nareda_ "the Giver of Water."

Like Nareda, so Nereus and his fifty daughters, the Nereides, mentioned in Greek mythology, were renowned for their musical accomplishments.

Again, there is an old tradition, preserved in Swedish and Scottish national ballads, of a skilful harper who constructs his instrument out of the bones of a young girl drowned by a wicked woman. Her fingers he uses for the tuning screws, and her golden hair for the strings. The harper plays, and his music kills the murderess.[8] A similar story is told in the old Icelandic national songs, and the same tradition has been found still preserved in the Faroe Islands, as well as in Norway and Denmark.[9]

May not the agreeable impression produced by the rhythmical flow of the waves and the soothing murmur of running water have led various nations, independently of each other, to the widespread conception that they obtained their favourite instrument of music originally from the water?

Or is this notion traceable to a common source, dating from a pre-historic age--perhaps from the early period when the Aryan race is surmised to have diffused its lore through various countries? Or did it originate in the old belief of the world with all its charms and delights having arisen from a chaos in which water const.i.tuted the predominant element?

Howbeit, Nareda, the Giver of Water, was evidently also the ruler of the clouds; and Odin had his throne in the skies. Indeed, many of the musical water-spirits appear to have been originally considered as rain-deities. Their music may, therefore, be regarded as derived from the clouds rather than from the sea. In short, the traditions respecting spirits and water are not in contradiction to, but rather confirmatory of the belief that music is of heavenly origin.

HINDU TRADITIONS.

Mia Tonsine, a wonderful musician in the time of the Emperor Akber, sang one of the _night-rags_ at mid-day. The power of the music was such that it instantly became night, and the darkness extended in a circle round the palace as far as the sound of the voice could be heard. Rags are characteristic songs composed in certain modes or scales; and each Rag is appropriated to a distinct season, in which alone it must be sung or played at prescribed hours of the day or night; for, over each of the six Rags, or kinds of compositions, presides a certain G.o.d, who presides likewise over the six seasons. The six seasons are: _Seesar_, the dewy season; _Heemat_, the cold season; _Vasant_, the mild season, or spring; _Greesshma_, the hot season; _Varsa_, the rainy season; and _Sarat_, the breaking-up, or end of the rains.[10]

Whoever shall attempt to sing the Rag _Dheepuck_ (or "Cupid the Inflamer") is to be destroyed by fire. The Emperor Akber ordered Naik Gopaul, a celebrated musician, to sing that Rag. Naik Gopaul endeavoured to excuse himself, but in vain; the Emperor insisted on obedience. The unhappy musician therefore requested permission to go home, and to bid farewell to his family and friends. It was winter when he returned, after an absence of six months. Before he began to sing he placed himself in the waters of the Jumna till they reached his neck. As soon as he had performed a strain or two the river gradually became hot; at length it began to boil, and the agonies of the unhappy musician were nearly insupportable. Suspending for a moment the melody thus cruelly extorted, he sued for mercy from the monarch, but sued in vain. Akber wished to prove more strongly the powers of the Rag _Dheepuck_. Naik Gopaul renewed the fatal song: flames burst with violence from his body, which, though immersed in the waters of the Jumna, was consumed to ashes.

The effect produced by the Rag called _Maig Mullaar_ is immediate rain.

It is told that a singing girl once, by exerting the powers of her voice in this Rag, drew from the clouds timely and refreshing showers on the parched rice-crops of Bengal, and thereby averted the horrors of famine from the "Paradise of Regions," as the province of Bengal is sometimes called.

Sir William Ouseley, who obtained these traditions, it would appear, from oral communication, states that they are related by many of the Hindus, and implicitly believed by some. However, on inquiring of the people whether there are still musical performers among them who can produce effects similar to those recorded, one is gravely told that the art is now almost lost, but that there are still musicians possessed of miraculous powers in the west of Hindustan; and if one inquires in the west, they say that should any such musicians remain, they must be found in Bengal.[11]

A reliable collection of Hindu traditions relating to music might, probably, be suggestive and valuable to the musical historian, especially if he examined them with reference to the myths of the ancient Egyptians and Greeks.

CELESTIAL QUARRELS.

There appears to be a notion universally prevailing among uncivilised people that, during an eclipse of the sun or moon, the two luminaries are quarrelling with each other, or that their conjugal happiness is being disturbed by some intruding monster.

The natives of the Polynesian Islands have an old tradition, according to which the moon (called _marama_) is the wife of the sun (called _ra_), and, during an eclipse, the moon is supposed to be bitten or pinched by some angry spirit.[12]

The Javanese, and the natives of the Indian Archipelago in general, when an eclipse takes place, shout and beat gongs to prevent the sun or moon from being devoured by the great dragon (called _naga_), which they suppose to be attacking the luminary.[13] This notion appears to have been adopted by the Malays from the Hindus, in whose mythology a G.o.d called Rahu--who is recorded to have been originally a giant, and who is painted black--at the time of an eclipse swallows up the sun and moon, and vomits them up again.

Of the Chinese we are told: "As soon as they perceive that the sun or moon begins to be darkened, they throw themselves on their knees and knock their foreheads against the earth. A noise of drums and cymbals is immediately heard throughout the whole city. This is the remains of an ancient opinion entertained in China, that by such a horrid din they a.s.sist the suffering luminary, and prevent it from being devoured by the celestial dragon."[14]

The Greenlanders have, according to Crantz, a somewhat similar tradition; but, instead of musical instruments, the men carry kettles and boxes to the top of the house, and rattle and beat them, and the women pinch the dogs by the ears, to frighten away the moon, who, they suppose, is insulting his wife, the sun.[15] In Greenland, the moon is the man, and the sun is the wife, as in Germany.

Again, the Negroes in Western Africa appear to have much the same notion. The traveller Lander, during his stay at Boussa in Soudan, witnessed the wild behaviour of the Negroes at the occurrence of an eclipse of the moon. Their princ.i.p.al exertions to avert the supposed impending calamity consisted in blowing trumpets, beating drums, singing and shouting.[16]

The j.a.panese legend of the sun-G.o.ddess, who, after having hidden herself in a cavern, is enticed from her dark abode by the power of music, is apparently likewise a poetical conception of an eclipse. t.i.tsingh, in reciting the same tradition, says that Fensio-Daysin, the sun-G.o.ddess, fled to the cavern in consequence of a dispute she had with her brother, Sasanno-Ono-Mikotto, the G.o.d of the moon.[17]

From these examples it seems that musical performances, or, at least, the sounds of loud instruments, are considered the most effective agent for appeasing the anger of the quarrelling celestial bodies. But there is no reason to a.s.sume that this peculiar notion originally emanated from one people. Like several other popular traditions, it most likely owes its origin to impressions produced on the mind by a certain natural phenomenon; and it may, therefore, have suggested itself to different nations quite independently, instead of having been transmitted from one nation to another.

AL-FARABI.

Most of the popular legends and fairy tales which have been traditionally preserved are of high origin. Many of those which appear to have originated during the Christian era are only modifications of older ones dating from heathen times. Thus, we find the Virgin Mary in a legend subst.i.tuted for a pagan G.o.ddess, and one or other Saint for a pagan G.o.d. Sometimes a remarkable incident, recorded in ancient history, is related as having occurred at a much more recent time. Perhaps it may have happened again, but in many cases the old tradition has, undoubtedly, been borrowed by one nation from another, and has been adapted to circ.u.mstances which favoured its adaptation.

In the musical records of the Arabs mention is made of the wonderful accomplishments of a celebrated musician, whose name was Al-Farabi, and who acquired his proficiency in Spain, in one of the schools at Cordova, which flourished as early as towards the end of the ninth century. The reputation of Al-Farabi became so great, that ultimately it extended to Asia. The mighty Caliph of Bagdad himself desired to hear the celebrated musician, and sent messengers to Spain with instructions to offer rich presents to Al-Farabi, and to convey him to the Caliph's court; but the musician feared that if he went he should be detained in Asia, and should never again see his home, to which he felt deeply attached.

However, at last he resolved to disguise himself, and to undertake the journey, which promised him a rich harvest. Dressed in a mean costume he made, unrecognized, his appearance at the court just at the time when the mighty Caliph was being entertained with his daily concert.

Al-Farabi, unknown to everyone present, was permitted to exhibit his skill. He sang, accompanying himself on the lute. Scarcely had he commenced his performance in a certain musical mode when he set all his audience laughing aloud, notwithstanding the efforts of the courtiers to suppress so unbecoming an exhibition of mirth in the presence of the mighty Caliph. In truth, even the mighty Caliph himself was compelled to burst out into a fit of laughter. Presently, Al-Farabi changed to another mode, and the effect was that immediately all his hearers began to sigh, and soon tears of sadness replaced the previous tears of mirth.

Again he sang and played in another mode, which excited his audience to such a rage that they would have fought each other if he, seeing the danger, had not directly gone over to an appeasing mode. After this wonderful exhibition of his skill, he concluded in a mode which had the extraordinary effect of making his listeners fall into a profound sleep, during which Al-Farabi took his departure.

It will be seen that this incident is almost identical with one recorded as having happened about twelve hundred years earlier at the court of Alexander the Great, and which forms the subject of Dryden's fine poem, 'Alexander's Feast.' The distinguished flutist, Timotheus, playing before Alexander, successively aroused and subdued different pa.s.sions by changing the musical modes during the performance, exactly in the same way as did Al-Farabi more than a thousand years later.

TRUSTY FERDINAND.

The Germans have a curious story in which an incident occurs calling to mind Arion's famous adventure. It will be remembered that Arion, after having gained by his musical talents great riches, was, during a voyage, in imminent danger of being murdered by the sailors, who coveted the treasures he was carrying with him. When he found that his death was decided upon, he asked permission to strike once more his beloved lyre.

And so feelingly did he play, that the fishes surrounding the ship took compa.s.sion. He threw himself into the water, and was carried ash.o.r.e by a dolphin.

As regards Trusty Ferdinand, the hero of the German story, we are told that he, seeing a fish struggling near the sh.o.r.e and gasping for water, takes it by the tail and restores it to its element. Whereupon the fish, in grat.i.tude, puts its head out of the water, and presents Trusty Ferdinand with a flute. "Shouldst thou ever stand in need of my a.s.sistance," says the fish, "only play upon this flute, and I will come and help thee." Sometime afterwards Trusty Ferdinand embarks on a voyage to a distant country. While on board a ship he has the misfortune to let drop into the sea a precious ring, upon the possession of which depends the happiness of a beautiful princess as well as his own happiness. He takes up his flute; as soon as he begins to play, the fish appears and reaches back to him the precious ring.

THE WILD HUNTSMAN.

The Wild Huntsman tears through the forest at night attended by a noisy host, pursuing his furious chase with unearthly singing, with sounding of horns, with the barking of dogs, the clattering of horses, and with fearful shouting and hallooing. This widespread conception has been ascertained to date from ancient pagan time, in which Wuotan, (or Woden), the princ.i.p.al deity of German mythology, exhibits the characteristics commonly attributed to the Wild Huntsman. But it is new as well as old; for it suggests itself not less naturally at the present day than it suggested itself in bygone times--as the reader will perhaps know from his own experience, if he has ever found himself alone on a stormy moonlight night in a forest of Bohemia or Germany. In any case, he may be sure that it is no joke to traverse in such a night a forest which still continues in almost its primeval state.