You will remember that in describing the reeds of the Japanese pitch pipes, I likened the delicate upward bend of the dainty little reeds to the curve of my ladye’s eyelashes; well, I can find no truer similitude, and you would say so if you saw them,—the reeds, I mean, not the eyelashes, which must be left to imagination. The practical purport of the device is what I would have you notice, because it shows the intuitive sense of fitness which guided the designer; for the tongue is so curved upward that it will not reverse and bend the opposite way as the flat reed does. Thus it is secure against fluctuations of pitch, a very requisite provision, since in this case each pipe is designed to be sounded alone, and is subjected to the full force of whatever suction may be brought to bear upon it. A small reed of straight tongue could not be relied upon for pitch under such a stress: hence experience taught the designer by a happy device how to secure the end he had in view.
In Japan, we find the Sho, which is there a national instrument, is practically the same as the Sheng, only differing in that two of the mute pipes are made available to extend the scale, and that there is a little humouring in the pitch, probably from a familiarity with modern equal temperament; because this is, after all, only a reversion to a system with which scholastically their teachers were well acquainted in theory.
The Sho maintains its traditional office in ritual and in ceremonial affairs, and its scale, with little differences, is the same as that of the Sheng: hence we may infer that the tunes in use, which have been handed down from a very early date, are common to both.
The Japanese recognise in their music two systems, the classical and the popular, and these are in everyday use. The scales are essentially traditional, and are kept quite distinct. In the main they are Chinese, as also are the instruments; yet there is a strange mingling of the ancient and the modern in everything connected with the Japanese. In art, the Japanese are undoubtedly superior to the Chinese; the Sho that I once had and gave to a friend was most beautifully made, and in every particular delightfully finished. A large Japanese Koto, a thirteen stringed instrument that I possess, is a marvel of beauty, with lovely lac pictures running along the sides, and inlays of ivory and tortoiseshell and variegated woods in thousands of pieces, silver bosses, bronze dragons, and silk tassels, altogether a delight to the eye. The Koto of Japan, though carried to more artistic perfection, is the same in construction as the musical instrument called the Sê in China, and will be found further described in the section given to the Chinese Kin, the favourite of Confucius.
The Japanese have several other instruments both of the wind and string classes, but only those which I have introduced seem tributary to the purpose of this treatise.
CHAPTER XIX.
In Ancient China.
CEREMONIAL INSTRUMENTS.
Bells, Chimes and Gongs are held in high esteem by the Chinese, they are indispensable in their Ceremonies and Ritual, in their Festivities, national and social. So ancient is their use that the order of their coming into existence, or the date of origin are mythical, each kind of instrument seems equally old, still they had to be accounted for in Chinese logic of history.
One of the most curious traits in the character of the human animal is an unfeigned delight in super-exaggerated noise. Other animals are affrighted at noise, but the human animal makes a deliberate orgie of noise as a special means by arrangement for obtaining a sensual satisfaction of the ear. Amongst savage tribes and barbarous nations, and amongst nations emerged from barbarism well banded in social communities, everywhere we find that this sheer delight in noise, called music, is manifest and on record. Not merely called so, but dignified and accepted as music. ’Tis true that the Indian savage says his music is to frighten away devils and evil spirits, and the Chinaman tells us that his earsplitting distracting music is to make night horrible to the dragons threatening to devour the moon; but depend upon it, the devils and dragons are quite subsidiary to the main desire for indulgence in noise; and the excuse, we, perfectly well knowing the innate hypocrisy of the human animal, can complacently allow to pass. The love of noise belongs to us. Nature’s gift—like the love of art for art’s sake, is a love of noise for noise’ sake; it is only a change of phrase. We should not decry this, nor should we plume ourselves upon our civilization as freeing ourselves from this original taint of barbarism. I confess to thoroughly enjoying a thunderstorm, my nature is absorbed in an energy greater than the individual, and I revel in it. Man’s love of power is the basis of such satisfaction.