GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE MUSIC OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLE

 

It is with music as with language: however far we

might descend in the order of primitive people, we should

probably find no race which did not exhibit at least some

trace of musical aptitude, and sufficient understanding to

turn it to account. In fact it would appear that among

races of the very lowest order of civilisation there are

frequently to be found some which have more musical

capacity than many of a higher order. This is undoubtedly

the case with the Bushmen.

The Bushman sings while he dances, swaying his

body about in strict time with the music ; nor does he

cease until, tired out, he sinks to the ground and once

more takes breath. Then he sings again, still keeping

time to the music, and, raising himself quickly, begins to

dance with renewed vigour. When dancing in his hut

he leans upon two sticks, the lowness of the roof not

admitting of his standing upright, while the hut itself

is so small that it is only in the middle of a narrow circle

that there is sufficient room for even a single dancer. 

Notwithstanding this apparently tiring amusement, the

Bushman takes manifest delight in the dance, and the

more weary he becomes the happier, he is.

It may well be imagined what the atmosphere of the

hut is, and what the effect of a Bushman dance. It is

indeed similar to that of a Turkish' bath, and travellers

state that an European could scarcely exist in it. This

may be, but, at the same time, I am of opinion that it

would not fare better with a Bushman were he to enter

a ball-room in a small country village of Germany. He

would find that the bodily exertion is not less severe than

that of the savages, while the fumes of gas, tobacco, food

and drink are not much of an improvement upon those

of a Bushman's hut.

Burchell gives two examples of dance melodies x [Mus.

Ex. 20], and he is quite correct in asserting that they

contain very strange combinations of sound. Other travellers,

too, who have heard them have spoken of them

in terms of high praise, Burchell even going so far as to

declare that mere words were insufficient to describe their

beauties. "They must be heard; they must be participated

in." From these dances he derived as much pleasure

as did the natives, so quiet and orderly were they. No rude

laughter, no noisy shouting, no coarse, drunken, ribald

wit was there ; throughout it was a modest, sociable

amusement. For this reason Burchell wished that these

poor creatures might be more justly judged than is

usually their lot, and, as a matter of fact, had he not had

further experience of them, he would not have hesitated

to declare the Bushmen the happiest of mortals. " Music

softened all their passions, and thus they lulled themselves

into that mild and tranquil state in which no evil

thoughts approach the mind. The soft and delicate

voices of the girls, instinctively accordant to those of the

women and the men, the gentle clapping of the hands,

the rattles of the dancers, and the mellow sound of the

water-drum, all harmoniously attuned and keeping time together, the peaceful happy countenances of the party,

and the cheerful light of the fire—were circumstances

so combined and fitted to produce the most soothing

effects on the senses, that I sat as if the hut had been

my home, and felt as though I had been one of them."