utterance, which, as he continued to repeat his productions, he would cultivate and render more and more peculiar; just as is the case to-day with the venders who cry in our streets, the clerks who read in our courts, and the priests who intone the services in our churches. These peculiarities, moreover, would be shown not only in the elocution of the reciter, but in the arrangement of his words and sentences, so as to fit them to his elocution. At the outset, every literary man would have his own style of delivery and composition, and confine himself to it. But after a little, just as men of the same districts, and preachers and exhorters of the same religious sects— Quakers, Methodists, or Episcopalians,-imitate one another; so these public reciters would drift into imitation. Before long, too, it would be found that one style of expression, or form of words, was better suited for one set of ideas, and another for another set; so, in time, the same reciter would come to use different styles or forms for different subjects. Only a slight knowledge of history is needed in order to prove that this is what has actually taken place. Pindaric metre, and possibly Homeric, as also the Alcaic and Sapphic stanzas of the Greeks, were used first by the poets whose names they bear; but to-day they are used by many others who find them the best forms through which to express what they wish to write. But to return to our line of thought. A further development in the direction already indicated, would cause these reciters after a time to use versification, so that their rhythms and the variations in them might be more clearly marked; and still later, that the precise length of their verses might be apparent, as well as to assist the memory in retaining them, they would use rhymes. Further developments in the direction of rhythm and tune, introducing greater variety in both, and making the tones more and more sustained, would lead to the singing of songs—that is, to poetry set to musical melody. Such, crudely outlined, seems to be the most rational explanation of the rise of poetic forms. It is true that some, like Dr. J. H. Heinrich Schmidt, in his “Introduction to the Rhythmic and Metric of the Classic Languages," hold that "poetry and music had their origin in the dance and song," and that it must be carefully borne in mind that recited poetry was developed from song." But while he maintains this theory, Dr. Schmidt is obliged to admit that it cannot be substantiated by the known facts of history. He says that the march-melodies, dance-melodies, and purely lyric melodies, which, he believes, to have preceded recitative poetry, were so inferior in quality that none of them have come down to us. Of the products which have come down to us, "recitative poetry, powerfully developed in the great national epics (Homer, Hesiod, Arctinus, Stasinus, etc.), comes first. Then purely lyrical poetry appears with Callinus, Archilochus, etc. The first march-melodies were written by Tyrtæus for the Spartans. And about the same time we hear of the first choric compositions (i. e., dance-melodies), those, namely, of Alcman and Stesichorus.” This order of development, it will be seen, corresponds to that of the theory just presented here. But, while we hold this theory, perhaps we should be going too far, did we carry it to the extreme that Herbert Spencer does in his "Essay on the Origin and Function of Music," in which he seems to argue that every thing that we have in music is merely a development of the forms of speech. It seems more likely that both music and speech, the one instinctive in its nature, and the other reflective, are equally differentiated from a primitive ejaculatory form of utterance. Speech, as we have it, originated with man; but long before the existence of man, there must have been lower orders of creation in which the tendencies subsequently developed into speech and music, both existed in distinct and different forms. In fact, all the modes of expression mentioned by Schmidt-talking, singing, and dance-gesturing-have correspondences, respectively, in the chirping, singing, and fluttering of the bird. Spencer is undoubtedly right in saying that poetry is "a form of speech used for the better expression of emotional ideas." It, and all the higher forms of eloquence, are developed from talking with a musical orwhat is the same thing-an emotional motive. And Schmidt is undoubtedly right in recognizing that the three forms of expression which he mentions have a tendency to run into one another. Whether one start out to talk, or sing, or gesture, he may end by doing all three. This fact has been true, probably, as long as man has existed; and in this sense, dance and song-i. e., music in connection with rhythmical language, undoubtedly preceded the earliest known recitative poems. But it is a different thing to say that poetry, which is distinctively an artistic development of language, is nothing but a development of dance and song. In no true sense can this be affirmed, although of course poetry, music, and dancing have all influenced one another, and in important particulars the principles underlying all are the same. It has been shown from analogy that language, as used by the early reciters, had a natural tendency to become rhythmical; also from history, that the various forms of existing poetry were developed from the recitative. The strongest argument in favor of the view just advanced, however, has yet to be presented. It is found in the fact that the elements of all poetic, as well as of elocutionary forms, can be traced to the physical requirements of the organs of speech, and to these not as they are used in singing, but, distinctively, in talking, One can sing without suggesting any thing that can be developed into verse or rhythm; but it is impossible for him to talk, without suggesting what can be developed into both. In order to recognize the truth of this statement, we have merely to listen to a man talking. As we do so, two characteristics of speech will at once attract our attention. One is the pause or cessation of sound, following groups of syllables, which form phrases or sentences, containing anywhere from two to a dozen words; the other is the accent, given to every second, third, or fourth syllable. This word accent is used here, by the way, not in its restricted classic etymological sense (from ad and cano, to sing to), which will be explained hereafter, but in its modern English sense, meaning merely the emphasis or ictus given to certain syllables. Results that are universal-and the pause and accent are so, notwithstanding the alleged lack of the latter in the French language-are usually founded on requirements of nature. The pause results, primarily, from the construction of the human lungs; the accent, from that of the human throat. The speaker checks his utterance in order to breathe; he accents it because the current of sound-in talking, but not in singing-flows through the vocal passages in a manner similar to that in which the blood pulses through the veins, or fluid is emptied from the neck of a bottle-i. e., with what may be termed alternate active and passive movements. The active movements, which cause the accents, open the throat more freely than the passive ones, and in doing so may change, as will be shown hereafter, either the duration, force, pitch, or quality of the tone, or all of these together. Observe the difference between the accented and unaccented syllables of tartarize, Singsing, murmuring, barbarous, sassafras, Lulu, papa. It is only necessary to observe these facts in order to recognize that the line in verse, at the end of which, when regularly constructed, the reader necessarily pauses, is an artistic development of the phrase, which we find in all natural conversation. In fact, Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, seems to hint at some such a development in prose, for he says the period must be divided into clauses, easily pronounced at a breath, ei àvánvεUOTOS. It is generally acknowledged that the principal mental process involved in art-construction is comparison. This causes all men, both consciously and unconsciously, both for convenience and pleasure, to take satisfaction in putting like with like. The moment this tendency is applied to groups of syllables separated by pauses, it leads men to place, if possible, a like number of syllables in each group, and thus have between the pauses like intervals of time. But an arrangement of this kind is the primary characteristic of verse. Take one of the earliest verse-forms-Hebrew parallelism -so called because made up of two phrases, each of which contains a parallel or equivalent statement: I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make her boast in the Lord; O magnify the Lord with me; And let us exalt his name together. |