Chapter X: Part 10

“He is a kind chief who is kind, speaking kindly to those who have him for a chief.”[137]

[137] Ibid., p. 258, line 24.

“Now is finished the song of my chief. Finished is the great one.”[138]

[138] Ibid., p. 268, line 25.

“Now you will give the name Great-Inviter to Inviter who has come out of her room, her who has been made a princess, her who is all over a princess on account of this that has been done by this chief who has her for a princess.”[139]

[139] Ibid., p. 308, line 3.

In songs repetitions are much more frequent than in speech. I give a few examples:

“Wa, out of the way! Waw haw hawa, Wa, out of the way! Ah, do not in vain ask for mercy, Waw haw hawa! Ah, do not in vain ask for mercy and raise your hands.”[140]

[140] Ethnology of the Kwakiutl, Thirty-fifth Annual Report Bur. Am. Ethn., p. 1288.

Another example is the following:

“I am the only great tree in the world, I the chief: I am the only great tree in the world, I the chief.

I am the great chief who vanquishes, Ha, ha, I am the great chief who vanquishes, Ha, ha!”[141]

[141] Ibid., p. 1290.

Emphasis may be obtained by placing the word to be emphasized at the end of one phrase and by beginning the next phrase with the same word.

There are also many emphatic particles. The closing _ai_ referred to before, used in exhortative oratory, belongs to this group. Verbal affixes meaning “really”, “indeed”, and the like are used informal speech to give proper strength to the whole expression. In a wail a woman chants: “Haha, hanane, now really I do this, I remember my real past forefathers and really my great grandfathers and now really I will go on with my family-myth here, telling of this, of my beginning in the beginning of the world, of the chief who come up in this world, haha, hanane; and really this was my ancestor who really was going about spouting.”[142]

[142] Ibid., p. 836.

In Africa the telling of a story is enlivened by affirmative exclamations of the audience. When the narrator says, “The turtle killed the leopard,” the audience will repeat, clapping their hands, “The leopard, the leopard.”

Emphasis is also given by an accumulation of synonyms. Alternate terms are often used in this manner and in the original they often have an added rhythmical value on account of the homology of their form. Thus the Kwakiutl sings in a laudatory chant: “I greatly fear our chief, oh tribes! I tremble on account of this great means of trying to cause fear, of this great means of trying to cause terror, of this greatest cause of terror.”[143]

[143] Ibid., p. 1287.

“I shall break, I shall let disappear the great Copper, the property of the great foolish one, the great extravagant one, the great surpassing one, the one farthest ahead, the greatest Spirit-of-the-Woods among the chiefs.”[144]

[144] By “copper” is meant one of the valuable plates of copper that are considered the “highest” kind of property. The “Spirit-of-the-Woods” is the symbol of wealth and power, Ibid., p. 1288.

The beginning or the end of a rhythmic unit is often marked by an interjection like the “haha hanane” of the wail previously quoted, or by the repetition of the same word. Both these forms occur often in love songs:

Ye ya aye ya! You are hard hearted, you who say that you love me,
You are hard hearted, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! You are cruel, you who say that you are lovesick
for me, my dear!
Ye ya aye ya! When are you going to talk my love? my dear![145]

[145] Ibid., p. 1301.

or in a shaman’s song:[146]

I have been told to continue to heal him by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to keep on putting the hemlock ring
over him by the Shaman-of-the-Sea,
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to put back into our friend his soul, by
the Good Supernatural Power,
I have been told to give him long life, by the Long-Life-
Giver-of-the-Sea, the Chief-of-High-Water,
the Good Supernatural Power.

[146] Ibid., p. 1296.

Symmetry in the rigid sense of the term does not exist in the arts built on time sequences. A reversion of time sequence is not felt as symmetry in the same way as a reversion of space sequence where every point has its equivalent point. In time sequences we have a feeling for symmetry only for the order of repetition and structural phrases. The following Negro poem will illustrate this:

Ko ko re ko kom on do!
Girl gone, him no gone,
Ko ko re ko kom on do![147]

[147] Martha Warren Beckwith, Jamaica Anansi Stories, Memoirs. Amer. Folk-lore Soc., Vol. 17 (1924) p. 107.

It seems, however that in primitive recitative poetry and music this form is not as frequent as in modern folk song or in modern poetry.

The effect of poetry and oratory depends in part on the use of metaphor. It is hardly possible to discuss this in a generalized way, because the appreciation of metaphor requires a most intimate knowledge of the language in which it occurs. Apparent absence of metaphor is undoubtedly more likely due to imperfect records than to an actual absence of figures of speech. It is quite striking that it is difficult to find metaphorical expressions in American Indian literature, although it is undoubtedly a feature of their oratory. The whole naming system of most American Indians proves their feeling for figurative speech.

Here also I may be permitted to confine my remarks to the use of metaphor among the Kwakiutl with whose speech forms I am fairly familiar. Metaphorical expressions are used particularly when describing the greatness of a chief or of a warrior. The chief is compared to a mountain; a precipice (from which rolls down wealth overwhelming the tribes); a rock which cannot be climbed; the post of heaven (who supports the world); the only great tree (that raises its crown over the lesser trees of the woods or that rises in lonely height on an island); a loaded canoe at anchor; the one who makes the whole world smoky (from the fire in the house in which he gives feasts); the thick tree; the thick root (of the tribe). It is said that through his great acts he burns up the tribes, a term which is primarily used for the warrior. The people follow him as the young sawbill-ducks follow the mother bird. He makes the people suffer with his short-life maker; he shoves away the tribes. His rival whom he tries to vanquish is called, he with ruffled feathers; the one whom he puts across his back (like a wolf carrying a deer); the one with lolling tongue; the one who loses his tail (like the salmon); the spider woman; old dog; mouldy face; dry face; broken piece of copper.

Greatness of a chief is called the weight of his name; when he marries a princess he lifts her weight from the floor; his wealth of blankets is a mountain that rises through our heavens; in the feast surrounded by his tribe, he stands on his fortress. Wealth that he acquires is a salmon that he catches.

When following ancient customs the people walk the road laid out for them by their ancestors.

The warrior or a person of ill temper is called “hellebore”. The warrior is also called “the double-headed serpent of the world”.

Metaphorical terms are an important element in the speeches accompanying public purchases, particularly the purchase of valuable “coppers”. Many of these terms are accompanied by symbolic actions. The first part of the payment in the purchase of a copper is called the pillow or mattress on which the copper is to rest or the harpoon line by which it is hauled in. The purchase itself is called “shoving” that means pushing the value of the purchase under the name of the purchaser who is thus raised in rank. At the end of the transaction the seller gives to the purchaser a certain number of blankets (which are the standard of value) as a “belt” to hold up the blankets (in which the purchase price is reckoned); as boxes in which to store these blankets; and finally he gives an amount as a dress for his dancer (that is his female relative who dances for him on festive occasions).

When a person gives a great feast for his rival he extinguishes the fire of his rival’s house; his feast steps up to the fire in the middle of the house. If he surpasses his rival in liberality, his feast steps across the fire and reaches the rear of the house where the chief is seated.

Presents for a bride are a packline to carry her property; a mat on which she is to sit; and a mast for her canoe.

I do not mention here the many euphemistic terms for sickness and death, except a few that are used in speeches: the dead chief has gone to take a rest; he has disappeared from this world; he stays away; or he lies down.

Metaphorical figures in songs are not rare. Of the death of a renowned man who was drowned, it is said in his mourning song:

“It deprived me of my mind, when the moon went down
at the edge of the waters”.[148]

[148] Ethnology of the Kwakintl, 35th Ann. Rep. Bur Am. Ethn. p. 1292.

And in another mourning song[149]:

Hana, hana, hana. It broke down, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. It fell down to the ground, the post of the world.
Hana, hana, hana. Our great chief has taken a rest.
Hana, hana, hana. Now our past chief has fallen down.
[149] Boas, Kwakiutl Ethnology, Columbia University Contributions to
Anthropology. Vol. III, p. 77.

In a feast-song the chief is compared to the salmon[150]:

The great one will not move, the greatest one, the great
Spring Salmon.
Go on, great one, hurt the young children, the humble sparrows
who are being teased by you, great Spring Salmon.

[150] Ibid., p. 123.

In another feast-song the rivals are compared to insects[151]:

I am a chief, I am a chief, I am your chief, yours,
who you are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little flies that
are flying about.
I am too great to be desired as food by those little
horseflies that are flying about.
I am too great to be bitten by those little mosquitoes
that are flying about.

[151] Ibid., p. 129.

In still another song he is compared to a tree[152]:

A great cedar dancer is our chief, our tribes.
It cannot be spanned, our great chief, our tribes.
My chief here from long ago, from the beginning of the
myth time, for you, tribes.

[152] Ibid., p. 197.

A number of sayings of the Tsimshian present also good cases of the use of metaphor. “A deer though toothless, may accomplish something”; “he is just sleeping on a deerskin” (i. e. not expecting approaching hardships); “it seems you think that Nass River is always calm” (i. e. that you will always be fortunate); “he is just enjoying the water lilies for a short time” (as a bear feeding on water lilies and about to be killed by the hunter who lies in ambush).[153]

[153] Journal of American Folk-Lore, Vol. 2 (1889), p. 285.

Examples of metaphor may be found here and there in songs and speeches. The Osage sing:

Ho! Toward what shall they (the little ones) direct their footsteps,
it has been said in the house.
It is toward a little valley they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not a little valley that is spoken of,
It is toward the bend of a river they shall direct their footsteps.
Verily, it is not the bend of a river that is spoken of,
It is toward a little house that they shall direct their footsteps.

The valley and the bend of the river represent the path of life which is pictured as crossing four valleys or as following the course of the river having four bends.[154] This concept also finds expression in the decorative art of the Indians of the Plains.[155]

[154] Francis La Flesche, The Osage Tribe, The Rite of Vigil, 39th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnology, Washington 1925, p. 258.

[155] A. L. Kroeber, The Arapaho, Bulletin Am. Uns. Nat. Hist. Vol. 18, Plate 16, p. 100; Clark Wissler, Decorative Art of the Sioux Indians, Ibid., p. 242, fig. 77.

Another metaphor is used in the following illustration:

Upon whom shall we slip off our moccasins? they said to one another,
it has been said in this house.
Toward the setting sun,
There is an adolescent youth,
Upon whom we shall always slip off our moccasins, they said to one
another, it has been said in this house.

Here the slipping off of moccasins means the crushing and killing of the enemy, here personified in the adolescent youth.[156]

[156] Francis La Flesche, Ibid., p. 84.

In the speech containing the migration legend of the Creek, the head-chief Chekilli said: “The Cussetaws cannot yet leave their red hearts, which are, however, white on one side and red on the other”.[157]

[157] Albert S. Gatschet, A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians, Philadelphia, 1884; p. 251.

James Mooney records the following formula for success in hunting. obtained from the Cherokee.[158]

Give me the wind. Give me the breeze. Yu! O Great Terrestrial Hunter,
I come to the edge of your spittle where you repose. Let your stomach
cover itself; let it be covered with leaves. Let it cover itself at a
single bend, and may you never be satisfied.

And you, O Ancient Red, may you hover above my breast while I sleep.
Now let good (dreams?) develop; let my expressions be propitious. Ha!
Now let my little trails be directed, as they lie down in various
directions (?). Let the leaves be covered with the clotted blood, and
may it never cease to be so. You two shall bury it in your stomachs.
Yu.

[158] James Mooney, The Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees, Seventh Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, p. 369.

In this formula the gods of the hunt, fire and water are called upon. The Great Terrestrial Hunter is the river, its spittle the foam; the blood-stained leaves on which the game has been killed are to cover the surface of the water. The hunter asks that all the game may be assembled at one bend of the river which is supposed to long for evermore. In the second part, the Ancient Red is the fire. It hovers over the breast because the hunter rubs his chest with ashes. The blood-stained leaves are thrown into the fire and into the water which is expressed by having them buried in the stomach.

The contents of primitive narrative, poetry and song are as varied as the cultural interests of the singers. It does not seem admissible to measure their literary value by the standards of the emotions that they release in us. We ought to inquire in how far they are an adequate expression of the emotional life of the natives. To primitive man, hunger is something entirely different from what it is to us who ordinarily do not know what the pangs of hunger mean, who do not realize all the implications of starvation. If a people like the Bushmen or the Eskimo sing of their joy after a successful hunt and after a hearty meal, if the Orang Semang of the Malay Peninsula sing of the gathering of fruit and of the successful hunt, the connotation of these songs is no different from that of a harvest song. We are too easily mislead by the concreteness of the picture and assume that the emotional connotation that we require in poetry must be absent. Even among ourselves a graphic passage in a lyric poem does not by any means always release a definite, mental image but appeals rather through the feelings engendered by the descriptive terms. For this reason we must necessarily assume that the emotional setting of the picture is the essential poetic element for the singer, not the objective terms that alone appeal to us because we are not familiar with the emotions of every day native life. We feel only the graphic value of the words. The much-quoted Semang[159] song represents a good example:

Our fruit grows plump at the end of the spray.
We climb along and cut it from the end of the spray.
Plump, too, is the bird (?) at the end of the spray.
And plump the young squirrel at the end of the spray.

[159] W. W. Skeat and C. O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula, Vol. 1 (1906), p. 627.

This song which deals with plants and animals serving as food, should be compared with another one that is more readily appreciated by us:

The stem bends as the leaves shoot up.
The leaf-stems sway to and fro.
To and fro they sway in diverse ways.
We rub them and they lose their stiffness.
On Mount Inas they are blown about.
On Mount Inas which is our home.
Blown about by the light breeze.
Blown about is the fog (?).
Blown about is the haze.
Blown about are the young shoots.
Blown about is the haze of the hills,
Blown about by the light breeze.
etc.

If we feel the latter as a more poetic type it is presumably only because we cannot share the feelings aroused in the Orang Semang by the reference to the efforts in gathering fruit and in hunting animals. The effectiveness of poetry does not depend upon the power of expressive description that releases clear mental images, but upon the energy with which words arouse the emotions.

It is misleading to compare primitive poetry that has been recorded by collectors with the literary poetry of our times. The coarse sexual songs or drinking songs that do not form part of our polite literature, are quite on a par with the songs that may be heard in primitive society in the company of lusty young men or excited young women and their prevalence in existing collections is, in all probability, merely due to the inability of the collector to approach the natives in moments of religious devotion, of tender love, or poetic exaltation. In many cases it is quite obvious that some of the songs collected were made to make fun of the collector. It is not admissible to build on the meagre evidence that we possess, a system of development of lyrics in which the coarse forms, the exuberant spirits of every day life are mistaken for the expression of the highest poetic achievement. In all those cases in which fuller collections are available, as in America for instance from the Omaha, Eskimo, Kwakiutl, and from some of the southwestern tribes, there is ample evidence of poetic feeling that moves on higher planes.

Still, poetic susceptibility is not the same everywhere, neither in form nor in intensity. The local culture determines what kind of experiences have a poetic value and the intensity with which they act. I select as an example the difference between the descriptive style found in Polynesia and that of many Indian traditions. In the Fornander collection of Hawaiian tales we read: “They admired the beauty of his appearance. His skin was like to a ripe banana. His eyeballs were like the young buds of a banana. His body was straight and without blemish and he was without an equal.” In the story of Laieikawai it is said: “I am not the mistress of this shore. I come from inland, from the top of the mountain which is clothed in a white garment.” It would be a vain task to search for similar passages in the literature of many Indian tribes. The American Indians differ considerably among themselves in regard to this trait. Tsimshian tales are rich when compared to the barrenness of the descriptive tales of the Plateau tribes.

Poetic descriptions appear more frequently in songs. However even these are not found everywhere. The songs of the Indians of the Southwest suggest that the phenomena of nature have impressed the poet deeply, although it must be remembered that most of his descriptive terms are stereotyped ceremonial expressions.

As an example I give the following song of the Navaho:[160]

“On the trail marked with pollen may I walk,
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk,
With dew about my feet may I walk,
With beauty may I walk,
With beauty before me, may I walk,
With beauty behind me, may I walk,
With beauty above me, may I walk,
With beauty under me, may I walk,
With beauty all around me, may I walk,
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk,
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk,
It is finished in beauty.

[160] Washington Matthews, Navaho Myths, Prayers and Songs. University of California Publications in Archaeology and Ethnology, Vol. 5, p. 48, lines 61-73.

Of similar character is the following song of the Apache:[161]

“At the east where the black water lies, stands the large corn,
with staying roots, its large stalk, its red silk, its long
leaves, its tassel dark and spreading, on which there is the dew.

“At the sunset where the yellow water lies, stands the large
pumpkin with its tendrils, its long stem, its wide leaves, its
yellow top on which there is pollen.”

[161] P. E. Goddard, Myths and Tales from the White Mountain Apache. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, Vol. 24, 1910.

The following song of the Pima has also ceremonial significance:[162]

“Wind now commences to sing;
Wind now commences to sing;
Wind now commences to sing.
The land stretches before me,
Before me it stretches away.

Wind’s house now is thundering;
Wind’s house now is thundering.
Came the myriad-legged wind.
The wind came running hither.

The Black Snake Wind came to me
The Black Snake Wind came to me.
Came and wrapped itself about,
Came here running with its song.

[162] Frank Russell, The Pima Indians, 26^{th} Ann. Rep. Bur. Am. Ethn., p. 324.

The following Eskimo song which describes the beauty of nature is well known:[163]

“The great Kunak mount yonder south, I do behold it;
The great Kunak mount yonder south, I regard it;
The shining brightness yonder south, I contemplate.
Outside of Kunak it is expanding,
The same that Kunak towards the seaside doth quite encompass.
Behold, how yonder south they shift and change.
Behold, how yonder south they tend to beautify each other,
While from the seaside it is enveloped in sheets still changing,
From the seaside enveloped to mutual embellishment.”

[163] Henry Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimos, London, 1875, p. 68.

A song, provided it does not contain intelligible words, may be of purely formal esthetic value, which depends upon its melodic and rhythmic character. Even these forms may be attached to more or less different groups of ideas of emotional value. On the other hand the established significance of the song may vary materially when different sets of words are used with it. We observe this in our own culture, when diverse thoughts are expressed in the same metre or when distinct poems are sung according to the same tune,—as, for example, happened in the transfer of folksongs into religious songs. I do not know in how far this may happen in primitive poetry. Among the tribes that I know best there is a decided tendency to associate a certain rhythm with a certain set of songs. Thus the five part rhythm of the Northwest coast of America seems to be closely connected with the religious winter ceremonial; the mourning songs with slow regular beating.

The inherent relation between literary type and culture appears also clearly in narrative.

The motives of action are determined by the mode of life and the chief interests of the people, and the plots give us a picture of these.

In many typical tales of the Chukchee of Siberia the subject of the tale is the tyranny and overmastering arrogance of an athletic hunter or warrior and the attempts of the villagers to free themselves. Among the Eskimo a group of brothers often take the place of the village bully. Among both groups of people who live in small settlements, without any hard and fast political organization, the fear of the strongest person plays an important role, no matter whether his power is founded on bodily strength or on supposed supernatural qualities. The story uses generally a weak, despised boy as savior of the community. Although tales of overbearing chiefs do occur among the Indians they are not by any means a predominant type.

The principal theme of the Indians of British Columbia, whose thoughts are almost entirely taken up by the wish to obtain rank and high position in the community, is the tale of a poor man who attains high position, or of the struggles between two chiefs who try to outdo each other in feats that will increase their social standing. Among the Blackfeet the principal theme is the acquisition of ceremonies, possession and practise of which is a most important element in their life.

All these differences are not entirely those of content but they influence the form of the narrative, because the incidents are tied together in different ways. The same motive recurs over and over again in the tales of primitive people, so that a large mass of material collected from the same tribe is liable to be very monotonous, and after a certain point has been reached only new variants of old themes are obtained.

However, much more fundamental are the differences which are based on the general difference of cultural outlook. The same story told by different tribes may bear an entirely different face. Not only is the setting distinct, the motivation and the main points of the tales are emphasized by different tribes in different ways and take on a local coloring that can be understood only in relation to the whole culture. An example selected from among the tales of the North American Indians will illustrate this point. I chose the story of the star husband, which is told on the prairies, in British Columbia, and on the North Atlantic coast. The prairie tribes tell that two maidens go out to dig roots and camp out. They see two stars and wish to be married to them. The next morning they find themselves in the sky married to the stars. They are forbidden to dig certain large roots, but the young women disobey the orders of their husbands and, through a hole in the ground they see the earth below. By means of a rope they climb down. From here on, the story takes distinctive forms in different geographical areas. In one form the adventures of the women after their return are described, in the other the feats of the child born by one of them. The central view-point of the same story as told by the Indians of British Columbia is completely changed. The girls of a village build a house in which they play and one day they talk about the stars, how happy they must be because they are able to see the whole world. The next morning they awake in the sky, in front of the house of a great chief. The house is beautifully carved and painted. Suddenly a number of men appear who pretend to embrace the girls but kill them by sucking out their brains. Only the chief’s daughter and her younger sister are saved. The elder sister becomes the wife of the chief of the stars. Finally the chief sends them back with the promise to help them whenever they are in need. They find the village deserted and the star chief sends down his house and the masks and whistles belonging to a ceremony which becomes the hereditary property of the woman’s family. The tale ends with the acquisition of the house and the ceremony, matters that are the chief interest in the life of the Indians. In this way the story becomes one of the long series of tales of similar import, although the contents belong to an entirely distinct group.

As a second example I mention the story of Amor and Psyche which has been cast into a new mould by the Pueblo Indians. Here the antelope appears in the form of a maiden. She marries a youth who is forbidden to see the girl. He transgresses this order and, by the light of a candle, looks upon her while she is asleep. Immediately the girl and house disappear and the young man finds himself in the wallow of an antelope.

Equally instructive are the transformations of biblical stories in the mouths of the natives. Dr. Benedict and Dr. Parsons have recorded a nativity story of the Zuni in which Jesus appears as a girl, the daughter of the sun. After the child is born the domestic animals lick it, only the mule refuses to do so and is punished with sterility. The whole story has been given a new aspect. It is made to account for the fertility of animals, and tells how fertility may be increased, a thought uppermost in the minds of the Pueblos.

European fairy tales differ in this respect from those of primitive tribes, for in contents and form they embrace many survivals of past times. It is quite evident that the modern European fairy tale does not reflect the conditions of the State of our times, nor the conditions of our daily life, but that they give us an imaginative picture of rural life in semifeudal times, and that, owing to the contradictions between modern intellectualism and the ancient rural tradition, conflicts of viewpoints occur that may be interpreted as survivals. In the tales of primitive people it is otherwise. A detailed analysis of the traditional tales of a number of Indian tribes shows complete agreement of the conditions of life with those that may be abstracted from the tales. Beliefs and customs in life and in tales are in full accord. This is true not only of old native material but also of imported stories that have been borrowed some time ago. They are quickly adapted to the prevailing mode of life. The analysis of tales from the Northwest coast and from the Pueblos gives the same result. Only during the period of transition to new modes of life, such as are brought about by contact with Europeans, contradictions develop. Thus it happens that in the tales of Laguna, one of the Pueblos of New Mexico, the visitor always enters through the roof of the house, although the modern houses have doors. The headman of the ceremonial organization plays an important role in many tales, although the organization itself has largely disappeared. The tales of the Plains Indians still tell of buffalo hunts although the game has disappeared and the people have become tillers of the soil and laborers.

It would be erroneous to assume that the absence of survivals of an earlier time can be explained as due to the permanence of conditions, to a lack of historical change. Primitive culture is a product of historical development no less than modern civilization. Mode of life, customs, and beliefs of primitive tribes are not stable; but the rate of change, unless disturbances from the outside occur, is slower than among ourselves. What is lacking is the pronounced social stratification of our times that brings it about that the various groups represent, as it were, different periods of development. So far as my knowledge goes we find the cultural, formal background of the art of narrative of primitive people almost entirely determined by its present cultural state. The only exceptions are found in periods of an unusually rapid change or of disintegration. However, in this case also a readjustment occurs. Thus the stories of the modern negroes of Angola reflect the mixed culture of the west African coast. In the cultural background of the narrative, survivals do not play an important role, at least not under normal conditions. The plot may be old and taken from foreign sources, but in its adoption it undergoes radical changes.

These remarks relating to literature do not mean, of course, that in other aspects of life ancient customs and beliefs may not persist over long periods.

We have spoken so far of the structure of the elements of prose tales and songs. Important characteristics are found also in the manner of their composition. In the narratives of some people the episodes are anecdotally short; among others the wish for a more complex structure is felt. Often this is accomplished by the meagre device of concentrating all the anecdotes around one personage.

In many cases the craftiness, strength, voracity or amorousness of the hero gives a more or less definite character to the whole cycle. The Raven tale of Alaska consists entirely of unrelated episodes. The only connecting element, besides the identity of the hero, is the voracity of the Raven; but even this disappears in many cases. Quite similar are the Coyote tales of the Plateaus, the Spider tales of the Sioux, the Rabbit tales of the Algonquin, the Spider tales of the Guinea coast, the Rabbit and Turtle tales of South Africa, and the Fox tales of Europe. There is no inner connection between the specific character of the hero and the contents in the anecdote of the hoodwinked dancers (birds are induced to dance with closed eyes so as to give the hero a chance to wring their necks without being observed); in the tale of the eye juggler (the hero who is induced to throw up his eyes which are then caught in the branches of a tree so that he becomes blind); or in the incident of the bungling host (the hero is invited to partake of magically obtained food and he reciprocates the invitation but is ignominiously defeated in his attempt to repeat the magical procedure).

Sometimes the tales are strung on the slight thread of an Odyssey, of a tale of adventure and travel. To this class belongs the Eskimo tale of a hero who escaped a storm created by magic, and who encountered dangers of the sea which are described in some detail. He reaches a foreign coast and encounters cannibals and other dangerous creatures. Finally he reaches home again. Another case of this kind is a newly developed legend of the Tlingit of Alaska. In the early days of Russian colonization of Alaska the Tlingit attacked the fort at Sitka and the Russian governor, Baranoff, had to flee. After a few years he returned to reestablish the fort. This interval is filled by the Tlingit with a marvellous journey, telling how he goes in search of his son. He encounters fabulous beings that are known from other tales, visits the entrance to the lower world and communicates with the ghosts who give him instructions. Among the Pueblo Indians a large number of incidents are connected in a tale of migration in which the whole tribe participates.

In other cases there is an effort to establish an inner connection between the single elements. Thus the disconnected Raven tale of Alaska has been remodelled in southern British Columbia in such a manner that some of the elements of the tale have been brought into an inner connection: The thunder-bird steals a woman. In order to recover her the raven makes a whale of wood and kills the gum because he needs it to caulk the whale. In another tale the killing of the gum is the introduction to a visit to the sky. The sons of the murdered gum ascend the sky to take revenge.

Other tales are so developed that they form a complex, novelistic plot. The creation legends of the Polynesians are of this character. Even among those tribes that enjoy the brief, etiological anecdote, tales occur that contain the elements of an epic poem. The bare outlines of a family story of the Kwakiutl may serve as an example: The Thunderbird and his wife live in heaven, they descend to our earth and become the ancestors of a family. The Transformer meets them and in a series of contests the two prove to be of equal power. Finally the transformer puts frogs into the stomach of the Thunderbird-ancestor who takes them out again and deposits them on a rock. The sons of one of his friends go and then the frogs enter their stomachs, but they are cured by the Thunderbird-ancestor. In return he receives a magic canoe. The tale goes on to relate the birth, magic growth, and exploits of his four children. His wife is ravished by a spirit and gives birth to a boy who is washed in the slime of a double-headed serpent. Thus his skin becomes stone. The tale continues with a long series of warlike exploits of this son. Finally he woos a princess for one of his brothers. On a visit to her home the son of this princess is made fun of by the children in the village of her father. This results in a war in which the village of her father is destroyed. One of the wives of her father escapes and gives birth to a boy. The second wife of her father is enslaved by Stone-Body, the young man whose skin had been transformed into stone. She gives birth to a boy and by a ruse succeeds in making her escape with her son. The two brothers grow up and, in a series of adventures and exploits, both obtain supernatural power. They meet and travel towards the village of their father, killing and transforming on the way dangerous monsters. Meanwhile Stone-Body has obtained a ceremonial from a southern tribe and goes to Feather-Mountain in the north to obtain bird’s down, needed for this dance. On his way back he meets the ancestors of another tribe and they have a contest of magical powers. In this he is overcome and killed with his whole crew. In the main story this incident is omitted. He goes on and the two brothers, the daughters of the escaped woman overturn his canoe and kill him. On a visit to her father the woman married to Stone-Body’s brother sees the head of Stone-Body and her child reports this after their return. Then her husband’s people set out to take revenge but all are killed by the two brothers, who give a feast in their house and maltreat their guests.

So far we have considered only the reflection of cultural life in the form of the narrative. Its influence is also expressed in another manner. When the narrative is thoroughly integrated in the life of the people a process occurs quite similar to the one we observed in decorative art. As a geometric form often receives a secondary meaning that is read into it, so the narrative is given an interpretative significance that is quite foreign to the original tale; and as in decorative art the adventitious meaning varies in character according to the culture of the people, thus the style of the interpretation of a tale depends upon the cultural interests of the people telling it and, accordingly, assumes distinctive forms. We have found that art styles are apt to be disseminated over wide areas while the explanatory meaning of art forms shows much greater individuality. Precisely in the same manner, tales are apt to travel over enormous areas but their significance changes according to the various cultural interests of the tribes. As an example I refer to the story of the girl who married a dog, a tale widely spread in North America. It is used to explain the origin of the milky way (Alaska); the origin of the culture hero (British Columbia); the origin of the tribal ancestor (Southern British Columbia); the origin of a constellation (interior of British Columbia); the origin of a red cliff (interior of Alaska); the origin of the Dog Society (Blackfoot); and the reason why dogs are the friends of man (Arapaho).[164]

[164] Waterman, The Explanatory Element in the Folk-tales of the North American Indians, Journal of American Folk-lore, Vol. 27 (1914), pp. 28 et seq.

The view of the historical development of explanatory tales here expressed is analogous to that regarding the relation of symbolism and design. The general type of interpretation of symbolism exists in the tribe and the tale is made to conform to it. In many cases the symbolic or interpretative explanation is a foreign element added on to the design or to the tale in agreement with a stylistic pattern controlling the imagination of the people. This process may lead indirectly also to a conformable stylistic development of other representations, or to attempts to give explanations for the phenomena of nature. Only on the basis of a pre-existing style which has its origin in non-symbolic and non-interpretative sources can the resultant form develop.

It must not be assumed that the literary style of a people is uniform, on the contrary the forms are quite varied. I have pointed out before that unity of style is not found in decorative art either, that many cases may be adduced in which different styles are used in different industries or among different groups of the population. Just so we find in a tribe complex tales that have definite structural cohesion, and brief anecdotes; some told with an evident enjoyment of diffuse detail, others almost reduced to a formula. An example of this are the long stories and the animal fables of the Eskimo. The former treat of events happening in human society, of adventurous travel, of encounters with monsters and supernatural beings, of deeds of shamans. They are novelistic tales. On the other hand many of the animal fables are mere formulas. Similar contrasts are found in the tales and fables of the negroes.

The styles of songs vary also considerably according to the occasion for which they are composed. Among the Kwakiutl we find long songs in which the greatness of the ancestors is described in the form of recitatives. In religious festivals songs are used of rigid rhythmic structure, accompanying dances. In these the same words or syllables are repeated over and over again, except that another appellation for the supernatural being in whose honor they are sung is introduced in each new stanza. Again of a different type are the love songs which are not by any means rare.

It is striking that certain literary forms are found among all the races of the old world while they are unknown in America. Here belongs particularly the proverb. The important position held by the proverb in the literature of Africa, Asia, and also of Europe until quite recent times, is well known. In Africa particularly do we find the proverb in constant use. It is even the basis of court decisions. The importance of the proverb in Europe is illustrated by the way in which Sancho Panza applies it. Equally rich is Asiatic literature in proverbial sayings. On the contrary, hardly any proverbial sayings are known from American Indians. I have referred before to a few metaphorical sayings of the Tsimshian, the only proverbial sayings known to me north of Mexico.[165]

[165] I collected one saying among the Eskimo of Cumberland Sound: “If I should go to get them I should be like one who goes to buy the backside of a salmon (i. e. something without value).”

The same conditions are found in regard to the riddle, one of the favorite pass-times of the Old World, which is almost entirely absent in America. Riddles are known from the Yukon River, a region in which Asiatic influences may be discovered in several cultural traits, and also in Labrador. In other parts of the continent careful questioning has failed to reveal their occurrence. It is striking that even in New Mexico and Arizona, where Indians and Spaniards have been living side by side for several centuries and where Indian literature is full of Spanish elements, the riddle, nevertheless, has not been adopted, although the Spaniards of this region are as fond of riddles as those of other parts of the country. Sahagun, however, records a number of riddles from Mexico.[166]

[166] B. Sahagun (see note p. 132), Vol. 2, pp. 236, 237.

As a third example I mention the peculiar development of the animal tale. Common to mankind the world over is the animal fable by means of which form and habits of animals, or the existence of natural phenomena are explained. The moralising fable, on the other hand, belongs to the Old World.

The distribution of epic poetry is also wide, but nevertheless limited to a fairly definitely circumscribed area, namely Europe and a considerable part of Central Asia. We have mentioned that in America long, connected tribal traditions occur, but up to this time no trace of a composition that might be called a romance or a true epic poem has ever been discovered. Neither can the Polynesian legends telling of the descent and deeds of their chiefs be designated as epic poetry. The distribution of this form can be understood only on the basis of the existence of ancient cultural relations. For this reason Wundt’s analysis of the origin of the epic poem does not seem adequate. It has a meaning only in so far as the inclination existed to express in song tribal history and the deeds of heroes, a pattern that developed locally, but that is not of universal occurrence.

On the ground of the distribution of these types two conclusions may be established: the one that these forms are not necessary steps in the development of literary form, but that they occur only under certain conditions; the other that the forms are not determined by race, but depend upon historical happenings.

If at the time when Europeans first came to the New World the literature of the Americans did not possess the three types of literature which we mentioned, it does not follow that they would have appeared at a later time. We have no reason whatever to assume that American literature was less developed than that of Africa. On the contrary, the art of narrative and poetry are highly developed in many parts of America. We must rather assume that the historical conditions have led to a form different from that of the Old World.

The wide distribution of most of these forms among Europeans, Mongols, Malay, and Negro proves the independence of literary development from racial descent. It shows that it is one of the characteristics of the enormously extended cultural area, which embraces almost the whole of the Old World, and which in other features also appears in distinct contrast to the New World. I mention here only the development of a formal judicial procedure, founded on the taking of evidence, the oath and the ordeal and the absence of this complex in America; and the absence in America of the belief in obsession and of the evil eye which are widely known in the Old World.

The characteristics of poetry lead us to a consideration of the forms of music. The only kind of music that is of universal occurrence is song; and the source of music must therefore be sought here. Universally valid characteristics of song will also be general principles of music. Two elements are common to all song: rhythm and fixed intervals. We have shown before that rhythm must not be conceived on the basis of our modern regularity as a sequence of measures of equal duration and somewhat free subdivision, but its form is much more general. Apparent irregularity must not be misinterpreted as a lack of rhythm, for in each repetition of a song the same order is preserved without change. Precisely as the rhythmic order in primitive decorative art is more complex than our own, so also is the rhythm of music liable to be more complex. Regular measures do occur, but they are not so rigidly confined to 2, 3 or 4 part time, as our own, but 5 and 7 part sequences frequently occur, in fact predominate in some types of music: five part rhythms are common in northwestern America, 7 part rhythms in southern Asia. Alterations of rhythms that seem unfamiliar to us are found, as well as very complex sequences that cannot be reduced to measures at all. We may best describe the rhythm of many types of primitive music as consisting of a regular sequence of musical phrases of irregular structure. Sometimes the phrases expand into long rhythmic units without recognisable subdivision.

A second and all-important element of all music is the use of fixed intervals which may be transposed from one point of the tone series to another and which are always recognized as equivalent. In singing, these intervals are naturally inaccurate, for intonation is uncertain and wavering and depends upon the intensity of emotional excitement. Intervals are liable to increase, as the emotions of the singers are raised to a higher pitch. It is, therefore, difficult if not impossible to say what the singers intend to sing. The musical interval may be compared with the melody of language. Most languages do not use pitch in such a way that it is an important, significant part of articulation. The use of pitch in language is more widely distributed than is generally known. It is not by any means the exclusive feature of Chinese, but it occurs in Africa as well as in America, not to speak of its familiar use in the Scandinavian languages and in ancient Greek. Theoretically it is conceivable that early human speech might have used fixed intervals and musical phrasing of vowels and voiced consonants just as well as different timbre of vowels (that is our _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_, and other vowel values), to express different ideas, but it cannot be proved that such was done. It is much more likely, according to available linguistic evidence that musical tone in language is a secondary development due to the disappearance of formative elements. We must also consider that in languages with tone, glides are of great importance and that these are not typical parts of the melodic sequence, although they occur as endings of phrases. Furthermore the intervals of speech are not fixed and vary considerably according to the position of the word in the phrase. It does not seem likely, therefore, that the melody can be derived directly from speech, as Herbert Spencer tried to do. I rather adhere to the opinion of Stumpf who demands a different origin for the fixed interval. The sustained cry is much more likely to use fixed intervals and stable tones.

Whatever their origin may have been, we must recognize the existence of fixed intervals and their transponability as the fundamental requirements of all music. It is true that in some languages the value of the fixed interval is keenly felt. This is demonstrated by the so-called drum language of West Africa in which the speech melody and rhythm is repeated on drums of definite tones and where these tone sequences are understood.

Further investigation of primitive music requires a study of the intervals themselves. Notwithstanding the great differences of systems we find that all intervals may be interpreted as subdivisions of the octave. To the untrained ear the octave appears very commonly as a single tone; in other words, no distinction is made between a tone and its octave. To a lesser extent this is true of the fifth and even of the fourth. The majority of intervals that have been found must be considered as subdivisions of the octave. However, the subdivision does not always proceed according to harmonic principles as in our music, but by equidistant tones. The development of harmony in modern music has had the effect that we have lost all feeling for equidistance in a harmonic series and that the recent music in which non-harmonic equidistant tones are applied require a difficult break with the pattern of musical form to which we are accustomed. After a long struggle, we have reached a compromise between the two systems, the harmonic and the equidistant, by dividing the octave into twelve equal parts which give a fairly close agreement to the natural harmonic intervals, although the differences are audible to a trained ear. The Javanese divide the octave into seven equidistant steps, the Siamese into five, systems that are in fundamental conflict with those of our music. In short, a great variety of scales exist and serve as foundation for the musical systems of different people. All seem to have in common as foundation the octave.

I will not enter into this intricate subject any further, because a safe method has not yet been found that would enable us to tell definitely what people _want_ to sing among whom there is no theory of music, as it exists among ourselves or the civilized people of Asia, and who have no exactly constructed instruments.