The growth of music from its initial stage to an art is quite analogous, except in time consumed, to the growth of each talent to maturity, or of each musical conception to full expression. They all move on towards realization, impelled by art instinct and imagination. The composer of to-day has a legendary past, full of romance and heart-throbs, and a warm, sympathetic present, to stimulate his fancy, but it required ages of joy, sorrow, love, and culture to quicken and refine man's stoical nature. The soil which nourishes our imaginations has been made fertile by the blood and tears of countless generations.
CHAPTER II
MUSIC'S FIRST ERA, AND THE INFLUENCES WHICH WERE OPERATIVE
IN VARIOUS LANDS DURING ITS CONTINUANCE
There are two distinct eras in the course of the evolution of music. The first ended and the second began with the invention and adoption of notation. This mechanical device so revolutionized musical production and taste, that we may properly concede to it the honor of having made possible the formulation of our art, for it chronicled the accomplishments of each generation, thus furnishing its successors with suggestive models. These were virtually lacking in the first era, which accounts amply for the little advancement made during its continuance.
That early career of music is shrouded in utter darkness, unbroken by a single luminous episode, and the lights which we are enabled to throw back upon it are entirely deductive.
They are not sufficiently strong to bring details into relief, but they suffice to develop outlines which are ample for the purposes of my sketch. The fact that the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Chinese devoted much attention to what some are pleased to call the science, or technic, of music is to me no indication of the condition of music existing at that time. Their libraries contained numerous volumes devoted to music, but their treatises considered melody (harmony was not known) from a purely mathematical stand-point. This vital element of music, which should be as free as air, was fettered by pedantry.
I feel convinced that the evolution of music was seriously delayed by this too early association with science. China has perpetuated this system of vassalage, the result being that her present temple melodies, which also serve as folk-songs, are utterly devoid of plastic grace and spontaneity. The fallibility of long lines of oral transmission casts doubt upon the Chinaman's claim that he inherits at least a portion of these songs, in their original form, from a period four thousand years back; still, there is one feature of the situation which, in a measure, substantiates it,—viz., the instinct for imitation that distinguishes this race from all others.
Evolution involves removal from an elementary state, and we measure its advancement through placing the present outlines and qualities, of whatever may be concerned, over against those that characterized some known previous condition.
China has produced some great scholars, and her civilization, such as it is, endures like the everlasting hills, and seems subject to little more change than they, but her people are not emotional, imaginative, nor susceptible to influences from without. The great wonder is not that real art feeling has never manifested itself in China, nor that she has repulsed all attempts to introduce the fruits of European musical culture, but that the Chinaman, with his nature, should have ever evoked our muse. China has contributed nothing to the development of music, and we cannot draw one spark of light from her for our investigations. The Mongolian race treated their feeble first musical impulse as they still do the feet of high-caste female children,—viz., they wrapped it so tightly in pedantic cerements that it could not grow; and, being an impulse, and not flesh and bones, it failed to endure the repression.