IV

'O Satan comes, like a busy ole man,Hal-ly, O hal-ly, O hal-lelu!He gets you down at de foot o' de hill,Hal-ly, O hal-ly, O hal-lelu!'

The so-called spirituals ('sper'chels) hold perhaps the largest place in the negro's sacred repertory. These plantation songs—'spontaneous outbursts of intense religious fervor'—had their origin chiefly in the camp-meetings, the revivals, and other religious exercises. 'They breathe a childlike faith in a personal Father and glow with the hope that the children of bondage will ultimately pass out of the wilderness into the land of freedom.' To them belong such gems as 'You May Bury Me in the Eas',' the plaintive 'Nobody Knows de Trouble I see,' the tender 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,' and many others as rare.

At meetings the spirituals were often accompanied by a most extraordinary form of religious ceremony, namely the so-called 'shouts,' which flourished particularly in South Carolina and south of it during antebellum days.[73]The spirituals sung in this connection were consequently called 'shout songs' or 'running spirituals.' The shouts were veritable religious orgies, or bacchanalia, and no doubt represent a relic of an African custom. Julien Tiersot refers to them as 'dishevelled dances.'[74]A vivid description of a shout is given by a writer in 'The Nation' of May 30, 1867:

'... The "shout" takes place on Sundays, or on "praise" nights throughout the week, and either in the praise-house or in some cabin in which a regular religious meeting has been held. Very likely more than half the population of a plantation is gathered together. Let it be the evening, and a light fire burns red before the door of the house and on the hearth. For sometime one hears, though at a good distance, a vociferous exhortation or prayer of the presiding elder or of the brother who has a gift that way and is not "on the backseat"—a phrase the interpretation of which is "under the censure of the church authorities for bad behavior"—and at regular intervals one hears the elder "deaconing" a hymn-book hymn, which is sung two lines at a time and whose wailing cadences, borne on the night air, are indescribably melancholy.

'But the benches are pushed back to the wall when the formal meeting is over, and old and young, men and women, sprucely dressed young men, grotesquely half-clad field hands—the women generally with gay handkerchiefs twisted about their heads and with short skirts—boys with tattered shirts and men's trousers, young girls barefooted, all stand up in the middle of the floor, and when the "sperichil" is struck up begin first walking and by and by shuffling around, one after the other, in a ring. The foot is hardly taken from the floor, and the progression is mainly due to a jerking, twitching motion which agitates the entire shouter and soon brings out streams of perspiration. Sometimes they dance silently, sometimes as they shuffle they sing the chorus of the spiritual, and sometimes the song itself is sung by the dancers. But more frequently a band, composed of some of the best singers and of tired shouters, stand at the side of the room to "base" the others, singing the body of the song and clapping their hands together on the knees. Song and dance are alike extremely energetic, and often, when the shout lasts into the middle of the night, the monotonous thud, thud of the feet prevents sleep within half a mile of the praise house.'

Closely related to the shout songs are the funeral songs which accompanied the 'wakes' and burials of the negroes. They were sung in a low monotonous croon by those who 'sat up' and are particularly noted for their irregularity in everything except rhythm. The negroes are especially inclined to voice their sorrow in nocturnal song, as their savage ancestors did beforethem, and likewise they indulged in funeral dances at night. Mrs. Jeanette Robinson Murphy, writing in 'The Independent,' speaks of a custom in which hymns are sung at the deathbed to become messengers to loved ones gone before and which the departing soul is charged to bear to heaven. 'When a woman dies some friend or relative will kneel down and sing to the soul as it takes flight. One of these songs contains endless verses, conveying remembrances to relatives in glory.' Often these funeral songs convey deep emotion in a nobly poetic vein. An example recorded by Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson has the following words:

'I know moonlight, I know starlight,I lay dis body down.I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,I lay dis body down.I know de graveyard, I know de graveyard,When I lay dis body down.I walk in de graveyard, I walk troo de graveyard,Fo lay dis body down.I lay in de grave, and stretch out my arm;I lay dis body down.I go to de judgment in de evenin' of de day,When I lay dis body down,An' my soul an' your soul will meet in de dayWhen I lay dis body down.'

'Never, it seems to me,' comments Col. Higginson, 'since man first lived and suffered, was his infinite longing for peace uttered more plaintively than in that line.' There are many other examples of such funeral songs preserved; some of them Mr. Krehbiel has reprinted in his 'Afro-American Folksongs' (pp. 100 ff.).

Few of the secular songs have survived. Even these, it seems, were often made to do service in the religious meeting, on the Wesleyan principle that it would not do to let the devil have all the good tunes. Some songs,on the other hand, were used to accompany rowing as well as 'shouting'—probably because of the similarity of the rhythm in the two motions. In 'Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,' which was a real boat-song, not a human Michael but the archangel himself was meant. Other tunes used for rowing were 'Heav'n Bell a-ring',' 'Jine 'em,' 'Rainfall,' 'No Man,' and 'Can't stay behin'.' Similarly, other spirituals were used as working songs, for their rhythms were hardly ever sluggish. As a good specimen of purely secular songs—'the strange barbaric songs that one hears upon the Western steamboats'—Mr. W. F. Allen points to the following:

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I'm gwine to Al-a-ba-my, Oh!———For to see my mam-my, Oh!———She went from ole Virginny,And I'm her pickaninny,She lives on the Tombigbee,I wish I had her wid me.Now I'm a good big nigger,I reckon I won't git bigger,But I'd like to see my mammy,Who lives in Alabamy.

I'm gwine to Al-a-ba-my, Oh!———For to see my mam-my, Oh!———

She went from ole Virginny,And I'm her pickaninny,She lives on the Tombigbee,I wish I had her wid me.Now I'm a good big nigger,I reckon I won't git bigger,But I'd like to see my mammy,Who lives in Alabamy.

The negro's natural impulse for dancing seems to have found its outlet in the 'shout,' as far as the Atlantic seaboard states are concerned at least, for the Christian sects promptly stamped out the dances which were connected with primitive superstition. In Louisiana, however, the negro came in contact with a very different sort of people, the Spanish and French settlers—southern races of a more sensuous turn than the Anglo-Saxon. The musical result was the superposition of Spanish and French melody over negro rhythms—thetwo ingredients of the Creole folk-songs, which are to a large extent dance songs.

The warlike and lascivious dances of the African took on a more civilized form under the influence of Spanish and French culture, though they are said in some cases to have remained licentious enough. But the product has been highly influential musically. Thus the fascinating Habañera, the familiar rhythm of many a Spanish melody, is, according to Albert Friedenthal,[75]of negro origin. As its name indicates, Havana was its home and from there it spread to all Spanish and Portuguese America, the West Indies, Central and South America. 'Extended and complicated rhythms are known only where the negroes are to be found,' says our investigator. Mr. Krehbiel quotes a creole song from Martinique, built upon the Habañera rhythm, entitledTant sirop est doux, and speaks of Afro-American songs in which the characteristic rhythm is so persistently used as to suggest that they were influenced by a subconscious memory of the old dance. Other dances of negro origin, mentioned by writers on the Antilles, are the Bamboula, Bouèné, Counjai, Kalinda, Bélé, Bengume, Babouille, Cata, and Guiouba. The term 'juba' applied to the plucking accompaniments of negro dance-songs in minstrel shows may be a derivative of the last.

In speaking of the Creole we must emphasize that the word is not properly applied to any persons of mixed stock, as has been frequently done. Creole is a word of Spanish etymology and was used to denote the pure-blooded Spanish or French native of the American colonies. But it is the negro slaves of these creoles—whom we may call black creoles (including mulattoes, quadroons, etc.)—that created the charming songs breathing the spirit of the tepid zone along the great gulf and the Father of Waters. They, too, arethe creators of thepatoisto which the songs are set. Concerning the origin of thispatoisMr. Krehbiel gives some interesting details: 'The creole patois, though never reduced to writing by its users, is still a living language. It is the medium of communication between black nurses and their charges in the French families of Louisiana to-day, and half a century ago it was exclusively spoken by French creoles up to the age of ten or twelve years. In fact, children had to be weaned from it with bribes or punishment. It was, besides, the language which the slave spoke to his master and the master to him. The need which created it was the same as that which created the corrupt English of the slaves in other parts of the country.... Thus, then, grew the pretty language, soft in the mouth of the creole asbella lingua in bocca toscana, in which the creole sang of his love, gave rhythmical impulse to the dance, or scourged with satire those who fell under his displeasure.'

The Creole songs, according to Lafcadio Hearn, are 'Frenchy in construction but possess a few African characteristics of method.' 'There could neither have been creole patois nor creole melodies but for the French and Spanish blooded slaves of Louisiana and the Antilles. The melancholy, quavering beauty and weirdness of the negro chant are lightened by the French influence, subdued and deepened by the Spanish.' Unlike the negro slave of the Virginias and Carolinas, etc., who poured out all his emotion in gospel hymn and spirituals, the black creole was especially fond of love-songs—crooning love songs in the soft, pretty words of his patois—some sad, some light-hearted. One is 'the tender lament of one who was the evil of his heart's choice the victim of chagrin in beholding a female rival wearing those vestments of extra quality that could only be the favors which both women had courted from the hand of some proud masterwhence alone such favors could come.'[76]Another, 'Caroline,' reveals the romance and the tragedy of the dramatic life of the young creole slaves. We quote it here, as our one example of creole tunes:

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Aine, dé, trois, Ca-ro-line, ça, ça, yé comme ça, ma chère!Aine, dé, trois, Ca-ro-line, ça, ça, yé comme ça, ma chère!Pa-pa di non, man-man di oui, C'est li‿mo ou-lé, c'est li ma pren. Yapas lar-zan pou‿a-cheté cabanne, C'est li‿mo-oulé, c'est li ma pren.

In general, the love song of the black Creole is more distinctive than that of other Afro-Americans. A famous example is 'Layotte,' utilized by Louis Moreau Gottschalk (b. New Orleans, 1829, of French and English parentage), who achieved international fame both as pianist and composer. Gottschalk did much to make the charm of Creole melodies known to the world. The themes of his piano pieces perpetuate many of these melodies, among themAvant, grenadier, which forms the theme of one of his earliest compositions,Bananier. The popularity of Gottschalk and the general interest which his music aroused in Paris and elsewhere was one of the sensations of the musical world of that day.

Another class of lyrics peculiar to the Creoles were the satirical songs which may be a survival of a primitive practice brought by their ancestors from America. At carnival times scores of these songs make their appearance—or reappearance,—new and topical words being applied to the old tunes, and public as well as personal grudges are taken out in this manner. Such songs areMusieu Bainjo, a mild bit of pleasantry leveled at a darkey who 'put on airs,' andMichié Préval,of which Mr. Cable says that for generations the man of municipal politics was fortunate who escaped entirely a lampooning set to its air. 'Its swinging and incisive rhythm made it the most effective vehicle for satire which the Creole folk-song has ever known.' (Krehbiel.) In Martinique these satirical songs, orpillards, are more malicious in intent and often cruel in the relentless public castigation they inflict upon the objects of their makers' hate.

Other creole songs are of a historical nature, recording events or episodes of importance to the community. The invasion of Louisiana by the British in 1814, and the capture of New Orleans by the Union forces in 1862, for instance, were thus chronicled.

The musical value and the charm of negro songs were little appreciated until the Jubilee Singers of Fisk University, Tenn., made their famous tour, which began in October, 1871. George L. White, the treasurer of the school—one of the institutions for the education of the blacks that came under the patronage of the American Missionary Association—desirous of raising funds for its maintenance, was struck with the artistic possibilities of the little choir of students which he had organized and trained. After several successful concerts held in nearby towns he embarked upon a grand tour of the country, with the object of raising a fund of $20,000. The little company of emancipated slaves—at no time more than fourteen strong—gave the world so remarkable a demonstration of the musical qualities of their race that the matter has hardly been called into question since. In less than three years, moreover, they brought back to Fisk University nearly $100,000. Their adventures are told in detail by J. B. T. Marsh, who, in his 'Story of the Jubilee Singers,' says in part: 'They were turned away from hotels and driven out of railroad waiting rooms because of their color. But theyhad been received with honor by the President of the United States, they had sung their slave songs before the Queen of Great Britain, and they had gathered as invited guests about the breakfast-table of her Prime Minister. Their success was as remarkable as their mission was unique!

The climax of their tour was the participation in the World's Peace Jubilee held in Boston in June-July, 1872. There, before an audience of 40,000 people gathered from all parts of the country, they sang themselves into the hearts of the nation, in spite of a recurrence of race prejudice. Their singing of Julia Ward Howe's 'Battle Hymn of the Republic' to the tune of 'John Brown' was, according to Mr. Marsh, 'as if inspired.' 'When the grand old chorus "Glory, Hallelujah" followed with a swelling volume of music from the great orchestra, the thunder of the bands and the roar of artillery, the scene was indescribable. Twenty thousand people were on their feet. Ladies waved their handkerchiefs, men threw their hats in the air and the Coliseum rang with the cheers and shouts of "the Jubilees, the Jubilees, forever!"'

The fame of the 'Jubilees' soon spread abroad, and, responding to a demand, they appeared in England, Scotland, and Ireland, with extraordinary success. Their appeal was direct to the hearts of the people, and an echo of it is preserved to this day in the adoption of at least one melody as an English Sunday-school hymn. A second tour took the colored singers into Holland, Switzerland, and Germany as well, and everywhere they met with the deepest appreciation. Received by the sovereigns of both Holland and Germany, they were given the use of the Dutch cathedrals and the Berlin Domkirche for their concerts. The BerlinMusikzeitungindulged in a long laudatory article concerning their music and the artistic finish of their singing, and Franz Abt, the composer, acknowledged theirwork in the following remark: 'We could not even take our German peasant and reach in generations of culture such results in art, conduct, and character as appear in these freed slaves.'

Other musicians have from time to time called the world's attention to the value of negro music. Most prominent among them being Dr. Antonin Dvořák, who, during his stay in America, voiced his admiration of it and made use of the material in several of his best known compositions, notably the 'New World Symphony' and the 'American Quartet.' It will be appropriate to add in conclusion the well-known passage from Dr. Dvořák's article in the 'Century Magazine' of February, 1895, which has caused so much comment:

'A while ago I suggested that inspiration for truly national music might be derived from the negro melodies or Indian chants. I was led to take the view partly by the fact that the so-called plantation songs are indeed the most striking and appealing melodies that have been found on this side of the water, but largely by observation that this seems to be recognized, though often unconsciously, by most Americans. All races have their distinctive national songs which they at once recognize as their own, even if they have never heard them before. It is a proper question to ask, what songs, then, belong to the American and appeal more strikingly to him than any others? What melody will stop him on the street, if he were in a strange land, and make the home feeling well up within him, no matter how hardened he might be, or how wretchedly the tunes were played? Their number, to be sure, seems to be limited. The most potent, as well as the most beautiful among them, according to my estimation, are certain of the so-called plantation melodies and slave songs, all of which are distinguished by unusual and subtle harmonies, the thing which I have found in no other songs but those of Scotland and Ireland.'

Many American composers have, since these lines were written, acted upon the suggestion contained in them. We need but mention George W. Chadwick, Henry Schoenefeld, E. R. Kroeger, Henry F. Gilbert, Arthur Farwell, and W. H. Humiston among those who have drawn upon this fertile treasure of thematic material. It is but the beginning, however. American music is becoming more and more distinctive. Whether intentionally or spontaneously, our musical literature is bound to absorb some of the color of so potent an element of national lore.

A great deal cannot be said at this time about the American folk-song from other than negro sources. Doubtless there is a wealth of song to be found in the Spanish-American sections along our borders, in the recesses of the Blue Ridge mountains, whose communities still live by the guide of primitive instincts and in defiance of law and order; on the great prairies of the west, where the cowboy has developed a rude type of chivalry peculiar to himself and with it an idiom reflecting the dare-devil and man-defying existence which he leads. But little has been done to collect this scattered store, to commit it to paper, and to sift the worthy from the dross.

As regards the cowboy songs, the Southwest Society of the Archæological Institute of America, under the direction of Charles F. Lummis, has recently done some pioneer work. One of the songs thus gathered, 'The Lone Prairie,' was harmonized by Mr. Arthur Farwell and published in the Wa-wan Press series in 1905. In the arranger's opinion it is probably the first cowboy song to be printed. As such it acquires a special interest. It is in the minor mode, has the rhythmic snappeculiar to negro music, though it is in triple rhythm, and acquires a certain exotic flavor by the constant use of the minor seventh instead of the leading tone. Its outstanding ethnic character, if it has any, is, however, Irish. It is not improbable that the cowboy song should have acquired a certain tone from the music of the Indian, though a generous admixture of the Celtic idiom is most certainly to be expected from the racial character of the caste.

In the same number of the Wa-wan Press there are two examples of Spanish-Californian folk-songs that are extremely interesting. Their Spanish character is unmistakable, though perhaps the tone is a little more plaintive than we are wont to expect from their original Southern habitat. 'The Hours of Grief' and 'The Black Face' are both set in the minor, and the 2/4 (quasi 6/8) measure, with the characteristic dotted rhythm, only accentuates the sombreness of the sentiment. Syncopation is used sparingly, at the end of a phrase only. The subject of the latter song—the lament of a dusky youth over his unhappy love for a white beauty, would bespeak negro origin, too, and the general character of the piece is certainly reminiscent of the Creole dance songs with their Habañera rhythm.

The Spanish-American songs of further south, of Central America and Mexico, hardly come within our scope, though American composers would be quite justified in drawing upon them for material. A collection recently made by Miss Eleanor Hague, of the American Folklore Society, and published with accompaniments by Edward Kilenyi, does not reveal much beyond the standard of salon music, though in their own home the characteristic environment of Spanish America and the peculiar manner of their performance may add greatly to their effect. To quote Miss Hague:

'To sit in the plaza of some quaint Mexican town on a starry perfumed evening is to realize the significanceof highly colored and impassioned utterance. One's blood is fired by the rhythmic quality of the music which floats out from the gaily lighted central pavilion, and the groups of people are a delight to one's eyes: Indians in white cotton clothes, gaudyserapesand big hats; groups of young girls with scarfs over their heads walking about; other groups of young men in the picturesquecharrocostume, as well as occasional older people of dignified mien. On a bench an exquisitely pretty girl sits beside her mother, with her eyes fixed on space, but quite conscious of the youth in his best embroidered jacket and sombrero, at the further end of the bench, who gazes shyly at her and then looks away with rapture in his eyes. If he has not already begun to "play the bear" under her window he undoubtedly will soon reach that point in his courtship.... In Mexico the guitar is used everywhere for accompanying and also for solos. As a rule in playing accompaniments the natives content themselves with simple harmonies in chord form or as arpeggios; but they have a deep affection for successions of thirds and never seem to tire of their honied sweetness.'

The French-Canadian, across the other border of the United States, also has developed a folk-song peculiar to himself in the course of his romantic existence. It is so closely allied to French folk-song that we have preferred to treat it in that connection. There remains only to be mentioned the folk-song of the Kentucky mountaineer which has had some attention at the hands of Mrs. Jeannette Robinson Murphy, already quoted above. The mountaineer, like the cowboy, is made up of various national strains, and his song in consequence is one of mixed or indefinite character. The rhythmic element again predominates and, indeed, practically all his songs have their principal use in connection with the dance. Fast rhythmic tunes in duple time and in very simple form are sung as accompanimentto all the so-called 'set dances,' which form the chief entertainment at evening gatherings in log cabins. Upon these occasions the fiddler assumes the office of leader for both song and dance—he calls out the tunes, directs the 'figures' and sings the first verse of the song, while his assistant, by a peculiar tapping of the strings of the instrument, marks the rhythm. The songs, or ballads, are often of humorous or bantering flirtatious character, and in them is perpetuated many a peculiarity of mountaineer life.

At this point we end our necessarily incomplete review of American folk-song, a subject which future research will do much to place more nearly within our reach. We shall now discuss briefly the American song in the folk manner, which may be considered to have grown out of the folk-song proper.

About the year 1830 an American comedian, W. D. Rice (1808-1860), popularly known as 'Daddy' Rice, stood in a stable in Louisville, Ky., and watched an old, deformed and decrepit negro singing a lively tune to words something like these:

'Come, listen all you gals an' boys,I'se jes' from Tuckyhoe;I'm goin' to sing a little song,My name's Jim CrowWeel about and turn about and do jes' so;Eb'ry time I weel about I jump, Jim Crow'—

and a number of other verses recounting the wondrous adventures of 'Jim Crow.' They are not very exciting, to be sure, and their humor hardly appeals to our jaded minds to-day. The tune, too, is mediocre enough. But 'Daddy' Rice saw a great opportunity. He learnedthe song and sang it, accompanied by all the funny turns and motions of the old negro and many more. Soon after he was appearing in a theatre in Pittsburgh, and, meeting a negro porter on the way, took him to the theatre, borrowed his clothes, donned them, blackened his face with cork and added a black wig of matted moss. When he appeared on the stage and sang 'Jim Crow' the audience roared with laughter; but when he added topical verses of his own and made his antics still funnier, the house went wild. To add to the mirth, Cuff, the negro, whose professional services were in demand, came on to the stage in négligé and frantically expostulated to reclaim his clothes. Of course, the audience mistook the interruption for part of the 'show' and the signal for a climax of hilarity.

That was the birth of 'Negro Minstrelsy'—a type of entertainment which for the greater part of the century was one of the chief delights of the American public. How much, or little, of it was 'negro' matters little—the original impulse, at any rate, came from that source, and the rich opportunities for humor—of an innocent sort—to be gotten out of lampooning the race, were eagerly exploited. The 'dandy darky,' the character created by Rice, soon became a stock article of the common show and he made his way to every stage. The 'cork fraternity,' as one of its members called the profession, enlarged rapidly and soon numbered many distinguished representatives. Joe Jefferson himself made his début in that capacity at the tender age of four, when he emerged from a bag on 'Daddy' Rice's shoulders. As for 'Daddy' himself, he added song after song to his répertoire, until there were enough for several evenings' entertainment. He toured not only America but England as well and acquired a considerable fortune.

He was, by the way, not the first to 'blacken his faceprofessionally.' From Charley White's diary[77]we learn that already in 1799 'Mr. Graupner' did so, 'Pot Pie Herbert' in 1814, Andrew Jackson Allen in 1815, etc., etc. In that year, indeed, according to Mr. Krehbiel, a song description of the battle of Plattsburg was sung in a drama to words supposedly in negro dialect. But organized negro minstrelsy did not exist until 1843, when Frank Brown, Billy Whitlock, Dick Pelham, and Dan D. Emmett appeared in the Chatham Square Theatre, New York, as the Virginia Minstrels and were 'received with deafening applause.' They were soon followed by band after band and hence transferred their labors to England to escape competition. When they returned there were the 'Kentucky Minstrels,' 'Congo Minstrels,' 'Original Virginia Serenaders,' 'African Serenaders,' and many more, among them the famous Christy's Minstrels, organized in 1844 or 1845.

The droll humor of the negro, his native wit and ludicrous ways were a rich field for travesty to draw upon. Exaggerated, burlesqued in showman fashion, it was the joy of audiences still fond of slap-stick comedy. But the pathetic side of negro existence, told in sentimental ballad and stories of plantation life, appealed as well. No less a person than Thackeray was affected by it. According to the famous author's own testimony, it 'moistened his spectacles in a most unexpected manner.'

From a mere accessory to the performance the negro minstrel show, thanks to the ingenuity of Edwin T. Christy, spread itself to usurp the entire evening. Christy created the form, the stereotype, as it were, of the minstrel show. He provided for a first part during which the performers, from four to twenty in number, seated in a single row with the 'interlocutor' in the centreand 'bones' and 'tambo' at either end, engaged in repartee and song in negro dialect alternately. During the second part or 'olio' there were banjo playing, clog dancing, and other 'specialties.' It might be remarked here that the negro minstrel developed a style of instrumentalism all his own, consisting largely of violin and banjo playing, often in trick fashion, between the knees, over the head, behind the back, etc. The third part of the minstrel show degenerated into a musical variety entertainment as far removed from plantation life as possible.

Increased virtuosity notwithstanding, this breaking away from the negro traditions of the old minstrelsy brought about decay. Gorgeous show and glitter superseded negro characterization, just as the coon song took the place of the negro ditty, while only the blackened faces recalled the original intent of the entertainment. At present the minstrel show is dead except in amateur circles of the country town.

But it has served its purpose. It has created a stock of songs which, though not strictly folk-tunes, are so nearly so as to find a legitimate place in this chapter. Only indirectly were they influenced by the negro; their composers were the minstrels themselves—the minstrels of fifty years ago, who constitute as unique a type as has existed in America. Indeed, they wrote the greater part of the 'popular music' of their day. Their entertainment called for a distinct and peculiar type of songs and the supplying of this demand called into play much genuine talent, though the showman was sadly deficient in musical grammar. His first models were probably the negro folk-songs with their stanza and chorus, the former a simple melody, the latter in improvised harmony. 'The melodies which were more direct progenitors of the songs which Christy's minstrels and other minstrel companies carried all over the land were attributed to the Southern negroes; songslike "Coal Black Rose," "Zip Coon,"[78]and "Ole Virginny Nebber Tire" have always been accepted as the creation of the blacks,' says Mr. Krehbiel, 'though I do not know whether or not they really are.'

Most of the names of minstrel composers are now forgotten; B. R. Hanby, the author of 'Ole Shady'; Eastburn, who wrote 'The Little Brown Jug'; the writers of 'Gentle Annie' and 'Rosa Lee, or Don't be Foolish, Joe,' live on by their songs alone. But there are two names, perhaps three, that stand out above the rest and should be remembered as the names of composers. One of them only was a minstrel, Dan Emmett, and one of his inspirations has sufficed to make him immortal.[79]Many other popular and original tunes flowed from his facile pen—'Old Dan Tucker,' 'Early in the Morning,' etc.—but none has achieved the fame of 'Dixie.' The second famous writer of minstrel tunes, Stephen Foster, was a composer who wrote in the minstrel style simply because it was the prevailing style and because he found a ready market for that sort of product. But, regardless of the artistic value of that kind of music in general, Foster must always be counted among the really great American composers.

Stephen Collins Foster was born in Lawrenceburg, now a part of Pittsburgh, Pa., on July 4, 1826. By instinct and by inheritance he was a Southerner, for his father had come from Virginia and his mother from Maryland. Foster was not a professional musician; he acted as bookkeeper for his brother, a prosperous merchant of Pittsburgh, and got his inspiration at camp meetings. He taught himself the flageolet, studied Mozart and Weber assiduously, and acquired a knowledgeof French and German by his own efforts. He dabbled in composition, turned out a 'Tioga Waltz' for four flutes (!), and in 1842 wrote a song, 'Open thy Lattice, Love,' to words by someone else. He and five friends constituted themselves a little singing club and for this he wrote many songs, including 'Oh, Susanna,' 'Old Uncle Ned,' etc., in the style of the negro folk-song. Though a German musician of Pittsburgh criticized his work for him, he certainly had no real musical training. By the advice of friends he devoted several years to the voice and pianoforte, 'but he was afraid that too much study would impair his originality! Hence, if his harmonies are bald, his accompaniments empirical, and his part writing unskilled, we need not wonder, but only regret that so graceful a flower was not planted in richer soil.'[80]

After submitting 'Oh, Susannah' to a minstrel troupe Foster adopted that style for most of his songs. There are about one hundred and sixty in all, a small number of them true gems, perhaps unsurpassed in their way; many, especially the later ones, mere pot-boilers. 'The Old Folks at Home,' 'My Old Kentucky Home,' 'Massa's in de Cold, Cold Ground,' 'Old Black Joe,' are practically immortal. They are to America what Silcher's and Weber's songs are to Germany—they are as simple and beautiful in their expression as they are sincere in their sentiment. They were born of the impulse of creation and it is to be remarked that this applies to the text as well, for Foster wrote nearly all of his own lyrics.

There are besides a number of sentimental ballads—'Nellie Bly,' 'Nancy Tile,' 'Come where My Love Lies Dreaming,' etc.—perhaps somewhat more artificial, rather trivial in sentiment and certainly more German than negro in their substance—and some comic pieces,such as 'The Camptown Races.' His last work was 'The Beautiful Dream,' written in 1864.

Foster had a gentle, sweet nature, but lacking in self-discipline and easily led. He was childlike in his sentiments, possessed of a pathetic affection for his parents and an almost maniacal love for his mother throughout his life. He married at the age of twenty-eight, but soon separated from his wife, became shiftless and addicted to drink. Want drove him to rapid production—he could write a song in the morning, sell it at noon and spend the proceeds at night. Finally, he found himself in New York, penniless, without employment and in 1864 came to a tragic end in a cheap East Side hotel at the age of thirty-three.

His life, with its grim romance, reminds one of the career of that other American genius, Edgar Allan Poe. Both were aristocrats of Southern antecedents and made of the very essence of the American stock. Both spoke in an idiom remarkably attuned to the best of the American genius. Foster's melodies partake essentially of the folk manner—they arevolkstümlich—they might have been folk-songs, except that they are individually conceived, that their birth is legitimate, so to speak. In the hearts of the people they rank as folk-songs, and, their appeal being permanent, interesting conclusions might be drawn from them as to the qualities of the American national character.

The other non-minstrel composer whom we desire to mention as a writer of popular tunes of the minstrel type is Henry Clay Work (b. Middletown, Conn., 1832, d. Hartford, Conn., 1882). Work also was not a trained musician in the modern sense, but a musician of earnest endeavor and sincere expression. Louis C. Elson says 'he sounded the most characteristic note of all the American composers of the time, and his songs give almost every note in the gamut of expression, from sarcasm to triumph, from gaiety to military glory.'

The emancipation movement inspired Work in the direction of pseudo-negro songs—'Kingdom Comin’' and 'Babylon is Fallen' being the first of a series of contributions to the music of the Civil War. Work's most lasting success is, of course, 'Marching Through Georgia,' which properly comes under the head of patriotic songs.

A type of folk-song that is as often appropriated as it is indigenous is the patriotic song. It can be called a folk-song only in the sense that the people sing it, though in a measure it must reflect the character of the people—in a measure only, for one nation is very much like the other when fired by patriotism. Almost invariably, however, such songs are created at times of national stress, when feelings run high and poetic outbursts come from unexpected quarters. Such are the circumstances under which nearly all patriotic songs were created, 'Yankee Doodle,' 'Hail Columbia,' 'The Star Spangled Banner,' 'John Brown,' and 'Marching Through Georgia' included. Some, like 'Dixie,' became patriotic unintentionally, so to speak, and some, like 'America,' were simply applications of foreign tunes to native words.

The earliest American patriotic song, dating from colonial days, was a 'Liberty Song,' the words of which were written by Mrs. Mercy Warren, the wife of Mr. James Warren, of Plymouth. The verses were as amateurish as the music is angular and bombastic. It was advertised in the 'Boston Chronicle' in 1768. Both the advertisement and the song are reproduced in Elson's 'History of American Music' (pp. 140 ff.). The patriotism reflected in the song is that of the Colonial:

'This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health:And this for Britannia's glory and wealth.That wealth and that glory immortal may beIf she is but just and we are but free.'

But after 1770 a new version appeared:

'Come swallow your bumpers, ye Tories and roar,That the sons of fair freedom are hampered once more,But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame,Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame.'

After the storm thus foreboded broke loose, the 'Liberty Song' hardly sufficed to express people's feelings, but there was nothing to take its place. To be sure, in William Billings' 'Singing Master's Assistant' there were printed two war songs that became very popular, especially the one for which Billings himself composed the words and set them to his favorite tune, 'Chester':

'Let tyrants shake their iron rod,And slavery clank her galling chains,We'll fear them not, we'll trust in God;New England's God forever reigns,' etc., etc.

'The enthusiasm with which Billings sang and taught these songs communicated itself to the people, even to those who in the prejudice of their time had strenuously opposed singing in the churches, but no one could doubt the composer's sincere patriotism.'[81]Then there were some stanzas, set to an old Scotch tune and sung by the Pennsylvania regiments during the Revolution, and a convivial soldiers' song, 'The Volunteer Boys,' that was composed by Henry Archer, an Englishman, in 1778, and widely sung. But the one revolutionary tune that has survived was, strange enough, originally a song of derision aimed at the American troops by the British. That tune is 'Yankee Doodle.' 'Yankee,' the term still applied to Americans in general by Europeans, but by Americans to New Englanders in particular, hasa doubtful etymology. There is an Indian word 'yankoos,' which means invincible, and a Cherokee word, 'eankke,' signifying coward or slave; 'kanokie,' or silent man, was the name applied to Connecticut settlers by the natives—according to 'Diedrich Knickerbocker'—and, finally, there is 'yengeese,' an Indian corruption of 'English'—all possible roots of the word. There are other plausible derivations, including one from the Norwegian and others from the Scotch. The word 'doodle,' too, has a Scotch meaning—'dudeln,' to play music. For the origin of the combination 'Yankee Doodle,' there are, as Mr. Sonneck puts it, 'whole genealogies of theories.' Probably the words were not used before 1700. The first known mention of the song so entitled is in a letter of April 26, 1776, in which it is called 'a song composed in derision of New Englanders, scornfully called Yankees.'

Many theories there are also regarding the origin of the tune. Most of them, including the well-known story of a British officer having composed it during the Revolution, are impossible, while the claim of Dr. Richard Schuchburgh[82]as its composer (at Albany in 1755) is very doubtful. It is said to have been played by a fife-major of the Grenadier Guards in 1750 as a march, and a tune at least similar to it is supposed to have been familiar to the English peasantry previous to the time of Charles I. Whatever its origin, it was played by the Americans at Burgoyne's surrender (Saratoga, 1777) and again at the surrender of Yorktown, at the instance of Lafayette, who probably intended it as a taunt. It was recognized officially as an American national song at the signing of the treaty of Ghent (1814), when the Flemish burghers serenaded the American ambassadors with the tune, having learned it from Henry Clay's servant!

'America,' sung to the same tune as 'God Save the King'—a tune that has been variously appropriated by other nations—had its American origin in the Park Street Church, Boston, the words being written for a children's celebration held on July 4, 1832, by the Rev. Samuel F. Smith, a young theological student. Before this, however, the tune had done service at different times for 'God Save America,' 'God Save George Washington,' and what not. The origin of the melody, like that of many other good tunes, is shrouded in mystery. It is generally attributed to Dr. John Bull (b. 1563), who is supposed to have written it for a banquet given to James I in 1607. But Mr. Sonneck remarks that 'with such arguments [as Mr. Elson's comparisons] the main theme of the last movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony would become very close to being inspired by 'Yankee Doodle.'[83]After citing many theories Mr. Elson remarks that 'there seems, however, scarcely a doubt that Henry Carey, the composer of "Sally in Our Alley," the unfortunate genius who commited suicide after a blameless life of eighty years, with a single half-penny in his pocket [in the year 1740], was the author and composer of the great anthem.'

Joseph Hopkinson (1770-1842), in a letter of August 24, 1840, throws light on the origin of 'Hail Columbia,' another popular American patriotic song. It was, according to him, originally a political song rather than a national one. The tune is that of the old 'President's March,' a leading work in the early American répertoire, composed, some say, by Johannes Roth, a German musician of Philadelphia, popularly known as 'Old Roth,' in 1689, but more probably by a certain Pheil, to whom it is attributed in a copy of the year 1793, in the possessionof the Library of Congress.[84]In 1798 Hopkinson wrote new words for it, which were a glorification of President Adams and Federalism. Sung by Hopkinson's friend, Gilbert Fox, an actor, at a benefit performance, it roused great enthusiasm and the audience joined in the chorus. But the 'Aurora' of April 27,1798, called it 'a most ridiculous bombast and the vilest adulation of the Anglo-monarchical party.' Since its use as a Federal song 'Hail Columbia' has undergone a considerable process of polishing, but its erstwhile popularity has not by any means worn off.

'The Star Spangled Banner,' because of its exclusive use and its inherent musical strength universally recognized asthe'National Anthem' of America, is, like its brothers, an imported article. The tune is that of an old English drinking song, 'To Anacreon in Heaven,' written by the president of the Anacreontic Society in London about 1770-75. The music is, in all likelihood, by John Stafford Smith (1750-1836), also a member of the society and author of theMusica Antiqua(1832). Its American use dates from 1798, when Robert Treat Paine, whose real name was Thomas Paine, but who objected to being confused with the 'atheist' Paine, adopted it to words of his own, under the title of 'Adams and Liberty, the Boston Patriotic Song.' Other versions, such as 'Jefferson and Liberty,' appeared for various occasions, one even to celebrate the Russian victory over Napoleon! But the real version, the one we know to-day, was born during the War of 1812 under conditions which fire the patriot's imagination.

The story is well known. Francis Scott Key, the author of the words, was sent to the British Fleet in Chesapeake Bay as the envoy of President Madison to request the release of a non-combatant citizen held as prisoner. As the bombardment of Fort Henry was to take place that day, the British commander retainedKey till there was no fear of divulging the British plans. On the morning of Sept 14th, after a night of bombardment, the anxious envoy looked toward the fort and there saw the flag of his country still flying proudly over the battlements. Inspired by the sight, he wrote the first stanza on the back of an old letter:

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