Читать книгу The Play of Man - Karl Groos - Страница 16

“Reben trägt der Weinstock;

Hörner hat der Ziegenbock;

Die Ziegenbock hat Hörner;

Im Wald der wachsen Dörner,

Dörner wachsen im Wald.

Im Winter ist es kalt,

Kalt ist’s im Winter,” etc.

“Vines bear grapes;

Billy-goats have horns;

Horns has the billy-goat;

In the woods grow thorns,

Thorns grow in the woods.

In winter it is cold,

It is cold in winter,” etc.

A negative form is:

“Ein, zwei, drei,

Alt ist nicht neu,

Neu ist nicht alt,

Warm ist nicht kalt,

Kalt ist nicht warm,

Reich ist nicht arm,

Arm ist nicht reich,” etc.

“One, two, three,

Old is not new,

New is not old.

Warm is not cold,

Cold is not warm,

Rich is not poor,

Poor is not rich,” etc.

A chain rhyme which dates back to the fourteenth century has this same echoing effect, and, as Zingerle remarks, “affords a striking proof that the children’s verses of that period had the same form as our own.”76

A striking analogue of this is found in many poems of the Molukken dwellers. They consist of four-lined strophes, whose first and third lines form the second and fourth of each preceding one. This often results in absolutely inconsequent insertions, whose only office is to promote the echo effect and onward77 swing, yet sometimes the thought is well sustained. Here is an instance:

“Jene taube mit ausgebreiteten Flügeln,

Sie fliegt in schräger Lage nach dem Fluss.

Ich bin ein Fremder,

Ich komme hierher in die Verbannung.

“Sie fliegt in schräger Lage nach dem Fluss.

Tot wird sie mitten im Meere aufgefischt.

“Ich komme hierher in die Verbannung,

Weil ich es wegen meiner elenden Lage so will.

“Tot wird sie mitten im Meere aufgefischt,” etc.78

“The dove with wide-spread wings

Flies along the winding stream.

I am a stranger,

I come an exile here.

“She files along the winding stream

And is drawn up dead from the sea.

I come an exile here,

Since that is my bitter fate.

“She is drawn up dead from the sea,” etc.

While the genuine refrain originated in the chiming in of the chorus with the other singers, this chain singing must have begun from new voices taking up the verse where others dropped it. For a last word on the subject, take this exquisite poem of Goethe’s, which combines the chain repetition with the charm of a refrain:

“O gieb vom weichen Pfühle

Träumend ein halb Gehör!

Bei meinem Saitenspiele

Schlafe! Was willst du mehr?

“Bei meinem Saitenspiele

Segnet der Sterne Heer

Die ewigen Gefühle.

Schlafe! Was willst du mehr?

“Die ewigen Gefühle

Heben mich hoch und hehr

Aus irdischem Gewühle.

Schlafe! Was willst du mehr?

“Vom irdischem Gewühle,” etc.

“O from that soft couch

Dreamily lend an ear!

Lulled by my violin’s music

Sleep! What do you wish for more?

“Lulled by my violin’s music

Like the spell of the starry skies,

A sense of the infinite moves you.

Sleep! What do you wish for more?

“A sense of the infinite moves you

And me to loftier heights,

Away from earth’s striving tumult,

Sleep! What do you wish for more?

“Away from earth’s striving tumult,” etc.

When the repetition is of single letters and syllables, instead of whole sentences, we call it alliteration and rhyme. A few examples will suffice to show that both are as important to the sound plays of children as to the poetry of adults. The alliteration may be mere repetition, as even the babbling babe loves to duplicate sounds, and while sometimes logical connection of ideas is conveyed as well (Haus und Hof, hearth and home), children enjoy meaningless sound-play quite as well.

“Hinters’ Hanse Hinterhaus

Haut Haus Holderholz

Hetzt Hund und Hühnerhund

Hart hinter’m Hase her.”

“Meiner Mutter Magd macht mir mein mus mit meiner Mutter Mehl.”

“Können Kaiser Karls’ Köch

Kalbsköpf und Kabisköpf kochen?”

“Round the rugged riven rock the ragged rascal rapid ran.”

“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.”

“Didon dina, dit-on, du dos d’un dodu dindon.”

As an example of original production, take this composition of Willie F——‘s, which he liked to recite as he pushed his wagon about the room:

“Wein, wein, wein, wein, wein, wein, wam,

Wein, wein, wein, wein, wein, wein, wam,” etc.

The verse of Ennius, “O Tyte, tuti Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne tulisti,” shows that adults, too, enjoy such alliteration, not only as a promoter of poetic beauty, but also for the mere play of sound.

Rhyme is often mere reduplication,79 its agreeableness being due to the actual musical quality to which identity and variety contribute, to repetition as such, and to its unifying effect on the two words or lines concerned. Children show enjoyment of rhyme at a very early age, and as soon as they can talk often amuse themselves with such combinations as Emma-bemma, Mutter-Butter, Wagon-Pagon, Hester-pester, and the like.80 And there are many counting out rhymes where the original meaning of the words is lost, and only the jingle remains, as:

“Ane-Kane, Hacke-Packe,

Relle-Belle, Rädli-Bägli,

Zinke-Pinke, Uff-Puff:

Das fûle, futze Galgevögeli

Hocket hinten ûff.”

“Wonary, uary, icary, Ann,

Philison, folison, Nicholas, John,

Quimby, quamby, Virgin Mary,

Stringulum, strangulum, Buck!”

“Eindli-Beindli. Drittmann-Eindli,

Silberhauke, Finggefauke,

Pärli, puff, Bettel duss.”

“Anige hanige, Sarege-sirige,

Ripeti-pipeti-knoll!”81

To regard these rhymes as the direct inventions of the children themselves would be as mistaken as to attribute folk poetry to the masses. Most songs for children originate with grown people, yet they are childish and contain only what children can appreciate, for the principle of selection decides their fate. At the same time, original artistic production is exhibited by children in alliteration and rhythm as well as in rhyme. Thus, I noticed in Marie G——, when she was about three years old, a disposition to sportive variation of familiar rhymes appearing simultaneously with the rhythmic arrangement of words. The first rhyme evolved entirely from the profundities of her own genius came to light at the beginning of her fourth year, in the shape of this strange couplet, which she repeated untiringly:

“Naseweis vom Wasser weg

Welches da liegt noch mehr Dreck.”

Another child, Rudolf F——, also in his fourth year, declaimed persistently this original poem:

“Hennemäs’che, Weideidäs’che,

Sind ja lauter Käsebäs’che.”

Pleasure in overcoming difficulties is an essential feature of all play. The determined onset against opposition, which is so conspicuous in play, shows how important is the fighting instinct, so deeply rooted in us all. Even in the lall-monologue, when the child accidentally produces a new sound by means of some unusual muscular effort, he intentionally repeats it (Baldwin’s persistent imitation82). Older children playfully cultivate dexterity of articulation by repeating rapidly difficult combinations of sounds. The commonest are those where the difficulty is mainly physiological, as Wachs-Maske, Mess-Wechsel; Der Postkutscher putzt den Postkutschkasten; L’origine ne se desoriginalisera jamais de son originalité; Si six scies scient six cyprès; She stood at the door of Burgess’s fish-sauce shop welcoming him in; If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where is the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked? And many similar ones. Others require quickness of wits as well, as in these verses:

“This is the key to the gate

Where the beautiful maidens wait.

The first is called Binka,

The second Bibiabinka,

The third Senkkrenkknokiabibiabinka.

Binka took a stone,

And for Senkkrenkknokiabibiabinka broke a bone,

So that Senkkrenkknokiabibiabinka began to moan.”83

Occasionally some obscurity in the language used involves a comic element, as—

“Basanneli, Basanneli,

Schlag ’uff und stand a Licht

Es geht a Haus im Geist herum,

Ich greif, er fürcht mich an.

Zünd’s Kühele an, zünds Kühele an,

S’Lauternle will a Kälble han,

Und wie der Teig am Himmel steht,

Da schiesst der Tag in Ofa.”84

A. Bastian relates of the Siamese children that they delight in repeating difficult sentences and alter their meaning while speaking rapidly, as Pho Pu Khün Me Pu (The grandfather near the grandmother) is changed to Pho Ku Khün Me Ku (My father near me, his mother), or Pit Patu Thöt, Pit Patu Thot (Shut the door, Shut the temple door), Mo Loi Ma Ha Phe, Phe Loi Pai Ha Mo (The floating pot bumped against the boat, and vice versa), etc.85 “Negro mothers on the Loango coast,” says Pechnel-Loesche, “teach their children verses which trip the tongue when spoken rapidly.”86

A similar sport for adults is afforded by the students’ song, Der Abt von Philippsbronn, in which the syllable “bronn” must be repeated four times. After the first time there is a “Pst!” sound, after the second a “Pfiff!” after the third a “Click!” and after the fourth a snore, all given as rapidly as possible. The accelerated tempo in the country song in Don Juan and in the wedding feast of the dwarfs in Goethe’s Hochzeitslied are of the same character.

Other instruments besides the human voice are employed in sound-play. Even parrots and monkeys have found pleasure in other noises than the practice of their own voices. The young gorilla, in his exuberance of spirits, drums on his own breast, or, with even more satisfaction, on any available hollow object, such as a bowl, a cask, etc. The child’s first auditory satisfaction derived from any act of his own is probably the splashing of water; another is the rustling of paper. Preyer says: “The first sound produced by himself which gave the child evident satisfaction was the rattling of paper. He often indulged in this, especially in his nineteenth week.”87 Strümpell noticed the same thing at six months, and also that it gave his little daughter pleasure to pat the table with the palm of her hand88 (rhythmic repetition again). The boy observed by Sully was in the beginning of his eighth month when he one day accidentally dropped a spoon from the table where he was playing with it. “He immediately repeated the action, now, no doubt, with the purpose of gaining the agreeable shock for his ear. After this, when the spoon was put into his hand he deliberately dropped it. Not only so, like a true artist, he went on improving on the first effect, raising the spoon higher and higher, so as to get more sound, and at last using force in dashing and banging it down.”89 At nine months Preyer’s child beat twelve times on the stopper of a large caraffe with increasing force. “On the three hundred and nineteenth day,” he goes on, “occurred a notable acoustic experiment which denoted much intellectual progress. He struck the spoon on his tray just as his other hand accidentally moved it. The sound was deadened, and the child noticed the difference. He took the spoon in his other hand and struck the tray, deadening the sound intentionally, and so on repeatedly. In the evening the experiment was repeated, with the same result.”90 Possibly Preyer is right in regarding this as a sort of scientific experiment on the part of the child to investigate the causes of the deadening of the sound, but Perez thinks the child’s action is accounted for by his desire to feel in both hands alternately the effect of the blow and of the shock.91 However that may be, we are forced to agree with the German student entirely when, from these observations, he finally draws the conclusion: “The restless experimentation of little children and of infants in their first attempts at accommodation, and even their apparently insignificant acts (such as the rattling of paper in the second quarter), are not only useful for the development of their intelligence, but are indispensable as a means of determining reality in a literal sense. We can never estimate how much of the common knowledge of mankind is attained in this way.”92

Without pausing to enumerate the various instrumentalities employed in childish sound-play, we will leave the infant and pass on to consider the insatiate demands of our sensory organism. It seems that, in order to maintain our present life, an incessant rain of outer stimuli must beat upon us, like that atomic storm which many believe pours constantly upon the heavenly bodies and accounts for gravitation. Indeed, the opinion has been advanced, and apparently supported by some pathological phenomena, that the cessation of all peripheral stimuli marks the dissolution of psychic existence. Certainly the sense of hearing has large claims to notice in this connection—we all know the gruesomeness of absolute silence. This may be why children are so indefatigable in making noises, patting their hands, cracking their knuckles,93 snapping and drumming with the fingers, stamping and beating with the feet, dragging sticks about, creaking and slamming doors, beating hollow objects, blowing in keys, banging on waiters, clinking glasses, snapping whips, and, in short, delighting in tearing and smashing noises generally.94 And adults are not much behind them. These same sounds in other forms please us too, as, for example, the clinking of spurs, snapping a riding whip, rattling sabres, the tinkling of tassels and fringe, the rustle of flowing draperies. The versatile walking cane, too, comes in for a thousand uses here—in striking, beating, and whistling through the air. Going for a walk one winter day, I fell behind two worthy scholars who were deep in an earnest discussion. We came to a place where the drain beside the road was filled with beautiful milk-white ice. Crack! went the older man’s cane through the inviting crust, in the very midst of his learned disquisition. The student everywhere is a past master in such sport, as his unfortunate neighbours find out to their sorrow in the watches of the night. The measured hand clapping, which the child learns so early, occurs in the dances of the people. I have mentioned the maddening rapidity of the Haxenschlagen. Enjoyment of crushing or rending destructible objects is characteristic of every age. I will cite as an example Goethe’s famed boyish exploit. After throwing from a window and smashing all his own store of breakable ware, incited by the appreciative cheers of the neighbours, he descended to the kitchen and seizing first upon a platter found that it made such a delightful crash that he must needs try another. He continued the entertainment until he had demolished all the dishes within his reach. In such a case, of course, enjoyment of the sound is not the only source of pleasure. Joy in being a cause is conspicuous when the clatter is self-originated, and sometimes renders even unpleasant sounds attractive, like scratching with a slate pencil, for instance. Besides, there is the satisfaction of impulses to movement, and often, too, the destructive impulse like that for overcoming difficulties is closely related to the propensity for fighting.

In all this we have not yet touched on the subject of acoustic playthings, and it is so large that I can only throw out a few suggestions as to the likeness between primitive musical instruments and the noise-producing toys of children. We have seen that even the ape has discovered the principle of instrumental music, and puts it to practice by pounding with his hand on a stick or some hollow object. A baby does the same thing, and will take great delight in beating persistently and with a certain regularity on a table with his hand, on the floor with a stick, or on his tray with a spoon. If we regard these sounds thus playfully produced by beating on some foreign object, together with some notion of time, as affording probably the first suggestion of a musical instrument, we are met by two possibilities: either the stick itself is considered as the source of the noise or else the object it strikes is so regarded. In the simple instruments of savages both possibilities are realized. The Australian bell is a thick, bottle-shaped club of hard wood which, on being struck, gives forth a peculiar long note, and the drum with which the women accompany the dancing of the men is only a tightly stretched opossum skin, which they have been wearing on their shoulders.95 Stringed instruments were derived from the bow; Homer sang of the clear sound which Odysseus drew from the tightly strung bow, and Heraclitus uses a complex figure of speech involving the bow and the lyre. The South African “gora” is only a modified form of this trusty weapon of the Bushman. The modification consists in introducing on one side, between the end of the cord and the bow, a trimmed, leaf-shaped, and flattened quill, which is placed upon the lips of the performer and set in motion by his breath.

How can we explain these inventions otherwise than as the results of indefatigable experimentation on the part of either children or adults? Wind instruments no doubt arose from contracting the lips and blowing through the fist or from playful investigation of the properties of arrows and the hollow ornaments worn on the neck, while vibratory ones, like the gora, no doubt find their prototype in the blowing on leaves and grass blades, which children are so fond of. Where there is no such thing as scientific experimentation, playful experimentation becomes the mother of invention and of discovery.

While it is thus not improbable on the whole that child’s play has had much to do with the origination of primitive instruments, we find, too, that children have borrowed many of their toys from the grown people. Things which, from the crudest beginnings, have been brought to a high degree of perfection are reproduced in miniature and simplified form for the little ones. Instances of this are too common and familiar to require illustration here. Even in remote ages it was the custom to give children little bows, wagons, dolls, etc., as well as copies of musical instruments. In the province of Saxony queer clay drums, shaped like an hourglass, have been unearthed; they must belong to the stone age, and among them is a tiny specimen, which can hardly be anything else than a toy.96 It often happens that instruments which have entirely gone out of use among adults continue to be playthings for the children for thousands of years. This is the case with the rattles which are now the merest plaything, having no interest for grown people, except as a means of quieting an infant, yet their original connection with it was probably much closer, as our progenitors used such instruments at dances, feasts, etc., for the pious purpose of driving off evil spirits.97 There is a widespread custom among savage tribes of frightening away the enemies of the stars by noisy demonstrations, especially during the absence of the moon. As these observances gradually become obsolete, the rattling instruments are saved from oblivion by being handed down as toys to the hospitable little people, without, however, entirely losing the glamour of their religious office. Becq de Fouquières says, in speaking of the many religious practices that are connected with children’s toys: “Ses premiers joujoux dont en quelque sorte des talismans et des amulettes.”98 Many rattles have been found in the graves of prehistoric children, together with clay figures of animals, marbles, etc. Schliemann found a child’s rattle, ornamented with bits of metal, in the “third city” at Hissarlik, and Squier found a snail shell filled with tiny pebbles, with the mummy of a child, in Peru.99 Amaranthes, in the beginning of the eighteenth century, in his remarkable Woman’s Lexigon, defines a child’s rattle as “a hollow instrument made of silver, lead, wood, or wire, trimmed with bright coral and with little bells either inclosed in it or attached to the outside.”100 Older boys make a rattle of a dried bladder, with peas in it.

As I have dwelt on the probability of the invention of the first musical instruments by means of playful experimentation, I will now touch briefly upon another view. Karl Bücher, in his admirable treatise on Arbeit und Rhythmus, develops the hypothesis that rhythmic art is derived from physical labour. Physical labour which employs the limbs with perhaps some simple implement assumes spontaneously a rhythmical character, since this tends to conserve psychic as well as physical force. The sounds arising as the work proceeds suggest the germ idea of instrumental music and lead to involuntary vocal imitation. Thus, poetry and music are engendered in the very midst of toil, and only later, when they attain to independent existence, are dance motions substituted for the movements of physical labour, and frequently become adaptations of them (as in pantomime dances, for instance).

Convinced as I am that this theory contains a genuine though perhaps one-sided101 contribution to the proper explanation of rhythmical art, I am unable to concur in what Bücher regards as its logical consequence—namely, that musical instruments are adaptations of the labourer’s tools. “We know,” he says, “that labour rhythmically carried on has a musical quality, and since savages, having no appreciation of pitch or harmony,102 value rhythm alone, it is only necessary to strengthen and purify the tone produced by the implement and to complicate the rhythm, in order to produce what is in their estimation high art. Naturally, to accomplish this the tools were differentiated; varying conditions, as they arose in their labours, became the occasion of further efforts for the perfecting of tone and timbre, and the art instinct, struggling for expression, first found it in such rude music. So originated musical instruments from these tools of manual labour, and it is a noteworthy fact that beaten instruments were the first to appear, and are to-day the favourites of savages. We find among them the drum, gong, and tam-tam, while with many tribes the only instrument is the kettledrum, which clearly proclaims its origin, being in many cases nothing more than a skin tightly stretched across the grain mortar or a suitable pot or kettle. Primitive stringed instruments also were struck, like the Greek pleptron, the tone of a violin and of the strings themselves being a later discovery. Wind instruments, too, are of very ancient origin, the commonest being the flute and reed pipe, both of which are rhythmic. The ancient Greeks used them first to mark time and as accompanying instruments.”103

I hardly think that this view will meet with general acceptance. The wind instrument, whose importance to primitive peoples Bücher somewhat underestimates, did indeed serve the purposes of rhythm principally, but it would be difficult to trace its derivation from any manual tool. Nor does it follow that rattles and flappers came from the use of hammers; while the drum, whose prototype he finds in the grain mortar, is in use by tribes who have no mortars. I conclude, therefore, that musical instruments can, with more probability, be accounted for as the result of instinctive sound-play and the experimentation with noise-producing implements, which accompanies it.