Reflection paper

Birdsong and the Origins of Music Author(s): Matthew Head Source: Journal of the Royal Musical Association, Vol. 122, No. 1 (1997), pp. 1-23 Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. on behalf of the Royal Musical Association Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/766551 Accessed: 10/01/2010 16:21

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Birdsong and the Origins of Music

MATTHEW HEAD

How old is music, and what are its most ancient forms? What is its origin, its source, and to whom shall we attribute its invention? Is music from man, from nature, or from God? Whom does it serve, in whose name is it sung? These are the questions that eighteenth-century writers asked themselves as they embarked on their histories of music; these are the questions they felt it necessary to answer on the first pages of their manuscripts. Today we have consigned the questions to comedy. Who but Barbra Streisand could fall in love with the professor who arrived at the congress of American musicologists with a suitcase filled with rocks that he claimed to be the earliest musical instruments?' Innocent and unanswerable, the question 'How did music begin?' strikes us as childlike; it has fallen out of currency. In journalism, fiction, the testimony of musicians and composers, and in psychological and psychoanalytical literature, music's origin is still touched upon obliquely. Roland Barthes, inviting the postmodern reader 'not [to] reject the delirium of origins', proposes his own theory concerning certain 'rhythmic incisions ... on cave walls of the Mousterian epoch' that point to 'the intentional reproduc- tion of a [musical] rhythm'.2 But the question of music's origin has vanished from histories of music. This being so, we might ask under what intellectual, institutional or professional circumstances the question was withdrawn: for a discourse on the origins of music continued to the middle of this century with the revised edition of the New Oxford History of Music.3

My research towards this article was supported by the Leverhulme Trust and the School of Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Southampton. ' What's Up Doc?, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1972).

Roland Barthes, 'Listening', The Responsibility of Forms, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (Oxford, 1985), 245-60 (p. 248). Barthes's musical criticism also engages with the question of music's origin from a psychoanalytical perspective. For Barthes, music is a sign of maternal presence/absence, because the voice is the means through which the gap between mother and infant is mediated after the dissolution of symbiosis. See Susan McClary's introduction to Catherine Clement, Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis, 1988), xv, with reference to Barthes in n. 10 (p. 186). Recent references to music's origin occasionally echo the eighteenth-century theories examined here. For example, an article by Hilary Finch, 'Babes in Arms in Harmony', The Times, 25 October 1995, Arts Section, concerning the musical instruction of infants, implicitly upholds a view of music (not just musical talent or genius) as innate in humankind - a view first met at the end of the eighteenth century. Composer Pauline Oliveros's notion of environmental sound echoes seventeenth- and eighteenth-century concepts of music as an objet trouve. See Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80 (Baltimore, 1984), 27.

3 Marius Schneider, 'The Origin of Music', Ancient and Oriental Music, ed. Egon Wellesz, The New Oxford History of Music, 1 (London, 1957), 5-8. For a sample of early twentieth-century theories of music's origin see also Robert Lach, 'Die Musik der Natur - und orientalischen Kultur- volker', Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, ed. Guido Adler, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Berlin, 1930), i, 3-34.

Birdsong and the Origins of Music

MATTHEW HEAD

How old is music, and what are its most ancient forms? What is its origin, its source, and to whom shall we attribute its invention? Is music from man, from nature, or from God? Whom does it serve, in whose name is it sung? These are the questions that eighteenth-century writers asked themselves as they embarked on their histories of music; these are the questions they felt it necessary to answer on the first pages of their manuscripts. Today we have consigned the questions to comedy. Who but Barbra Streisand could fall in love with the professor who arrived at the congress of American musicologists with a suitcase filled with rocks that he claimed to be the earliest musical instruments?' Innocent and unanswerable, the question 'How did music begin?' strikes us as childlike; it has fallen out of currency. In journalism, fiction, the testimony of musicians and composers, and in psychological and psychoanalytical literature, music's origin is still touched upon obliquely. Roland Barthes, inviting the postmodern reader 'not [to] reject the delirium of origins', proposes his own theory concerning certain 'rhythmic incisions ... on cave walls of the Mousterian epoch' that point to 'the intentional reproduc- tion of a [musical] rhythm'.2 But the question of music's origin has vanished from histories of music. This being so, we might ask under what intellectual, institutional or professional circumstances the question was withdrawn: for a discourse on the origins of music continued to the middle of this century with the revised edition of the New Oxford History of Music.3

My research towards this article was supported by the Leverhulme Trust and the School of Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Southampton. ' What's Up Doc?, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1972).

Roland Barthes, 'Listening', The Responsibility of Forms, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (Oxford, 1985), 245-60 (p. 248). Barthes's musical criticism also engages with the question of music's origin from a psychoanalytical perspective. For Barthes, music is a sign of maternal presence/absence, because the voice is the means through which the gap between mother and infant is mediated after the dissolution of symbiosis. See Susan McClary's introduction to Catherine Clement, Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis, 1988), xv, with reference to Barthes in n. 10 (p. 186). Recent references to music's origin occasionally echo the eighteenth-century theories examined here. For example, an article by Hilary Finch, 'Babes in Arms in Harmony', The Times, 25 October 1995, Arts Section, concerning the musical instruction of infants, implicitly upholds a view of music (not just musical talent or genius) as innate in humankind - a view first met at the end of the eighteenth century. Composer Pauline Oliveros's notion of environmental sound echoes seventeenth- and eighteenth-century concepts of music as an objet trouve. See Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80 (Baltimore, 1984), 27.

3 Marius Schneider, 'The Origin of Music', Ancient and Oriental Music, ed. Egon Wellesz, The New Oxford History of Music, 1 (London, 1957), 5-8. For a sample of early twentieth-century theories of music's origin see also Robert Lach, 'Die Musik der Natur - und orientalischen Kultur- volker', Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, ed. Guido Adler, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Berlin, 1930), i, 3-34.

Birdsong and the Origins of Music

MATTHEW HEAD

How old is music, and what are its most ancient forms? What is its origin, its source, and to whom shall we attribute its invention? Is music from man, from nature, or from God? Whom does it serve, in whose name is it sung? These are the questions that eighteenth-century writers asked themselves as they embarked on their histories of music; these are the questions they felt it necessary to answer on the first pages of their manuscripts. Today we have consigned the questions to comedy. Who but Barbra Streisand could fall in love with the professor who arrived at the congress of American musicologists with a suitcase filled with rocks that he claimed to be the earliest musical instruments?' Innocent and unanswerable, the question 'How did music begin?' strikes us as childlike; it has fallen out of currency. In journalism, fiction, the testimony of musicians and composers, and in psychological and psychoanalytical literature, music's origin is still touched upon obliquely. Roland Barthes, inviting the postmodern reader 'not [to] reject the delirium of origins', proposes his own theory concerning certain 'rhythmic incisions ... on cave walls of the Mousterian epoch' that point to 'the intentional reproduc- tion of a [musical] rhythm'.2 But the question of music's origin has vanished from histories of music. This being so, we might ask under what intellectual, institutional or professional circumstances the question was withdrawn: for a discourse on the origins of music continued to the middle of this century with the revised edition of the New Oxford History of Music.3

My research towards this article was supported by the Leverhulme Trust and the School of Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Southampton. ' What's Up Doc?, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1972).

Roland Barthes, 'Listening', The Responsibility of Forms, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (Oxford, 1985), 245-60 (p. 248). Barthes's musical criticism also engages with the question of music's origin from a psychoanalytical perspective. For Barthes, music is a sign of maternal presence/absence, because the voice is the means through which the gap between mother and infant is mediated after the dissolution of symbiosis. See Susan McClary's introduction to Catherine Clement, Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis, 1988), xv, with reference to Barthes in n. 10 (p. 186). Recent references to music's origin occasionally echo the eighteenth-century theories examined here. For example, an article by Hilary Finch, 'Babes in Arms in Harmony', The Times, 25 October 1995, Arts Section, concerning the musical instruction of infants, implicitly upholds a view of music (not just musical talent or genius) as innate in humankind - a view first met at the end of the eighteenth century. Composer Pauline Oliveros's notion of environmental sound echoes seventeenth- and eighteenth-century concepts of music as an objet trouve. See Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80 (Baltimore, 1984), 27.

3 Marius Schneider, 'The Origin of Music', Ancient and Oriental Music, ed. Egon Wellesz, The New Oxford History of Music, 1 (London, 1957), 5-8. For a sample of early twentieth-century theories of music's origin see also Robert Lach, 'Die Musik der Natur - und orientalischen Kultur- volker', Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, ed. Guido Adler, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Berlin, 1930), i, 3-34.

Birdsong and the Origins of Music

MATTHEW HEAD

How old is music, and what are its most ancient forms? What is its origin, its source, and to whom shall we attribute its invention? Is music from man, from nature, or from God? Whom does it serve, in whose name is it sung? These are the questions that eighteenth-century writers asked themselves as they embarked on their histories of music; these are the questions they felt it necessary to answer on the first pages of their manuscripts. Today we have consigned the questions to comedy. Who but Barbra Streisand could fall in love with the professor who arrived at the congress of American musicologists with a suitcase filled with rocks that he claimed to be the earliest musical instruments?' Innocent and unanswerable, the question 'How did music begin?' strikes us as childlike; it has fallen out of currency. In journalism, fiction, the testimony of musicians and composers, and in psychological and psychoanalytical literature, music's origin is still touched upon obliquely. Roland Barthes, inviting the postmodern reader 'not [to] reject the delirium of origins', proposes his own theory concerning certain 'rhythmic incisions ... on cave walls of the Mousterian epoch' that point to 'the intentional reproduc- tion of a [musical] rhythm'.2 But the question of music's origin has vanished from histories of music. This being so, we might ask under what intellectual, institutional or professional circumstances the question was withdrawn: for a discourse on the origins of music continued to the middle of this century with the revised edition of the New Oxford History of Music.3

My research towards this article was supported by the Leverhulme Trust and the School of Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Southampton. ' What's Up Doc?, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1972).

Roland Barthes, 'Listening', The Responsibility of Forms, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (Oxford, 1985), 245-60 (p. 248). Barthes's musical criticism also engages with the question of music's origin from a psychoanalytical perspective. For Barthes, music is a sign of maternal presence/absence, because the voice is the means through which the gap between mother and infant is mediated after the dissolution of symbiosis. See Susan McClary's introduction to Catherine Clement, Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis, 1988), xv, with reference to Barthes in n. 10 (p. 186). Recent references to music's origin occasionally echo the eighteenth-century theories examined here. For example, an article by Hilary Finch, 'Babes in Arms in Harmony', The Times, 25 October 1995, Arts Section, concerning the musical instruction of infants, implicitly upholds a view of music (not just musical talent or genius) as innate in humankind - a view first met at the end of the eighteenth century. Composer Pauline Oliveros's notion of environmental sound echoes seventeenth- and eighteenth-century concepts of music as an objet trouve. See Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80 (Baltimore, 1984), 27.

3 Marius Schneider, 'The Origin of Music', Ancient and Oriental Music, ed. Egon Wellesz, The New Oxford History of Music, 1 (London, 1957), 5-8. For a sample of early twentieth-century theories of music's origin see also Robert Lach, 'Die Musik der Natur - und orientalischen Kultur- volker', Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, ed. Guido Adler, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Berlin, 1930), i, 3-34.

Birdsong and the Origins of Music

MATTHEW HEAD

How old is music, and what are its most ancient forms? What is its origin, its source, and to whom shall we attribute its invention? Is music from man, from nature, or from God? Whom does it serve, in whose name is it sung? These are the questions that eighteenth-century writers asked themselves as they embarked on their histories of music; these are the questions they felt it necessary to answer on the first pages of their manuscripts. Today we have consigned the questions to comedy. Who but Barbra Streisand could fall in love with the professor who arrived at the congress of American musicologists with a suitcase filled with rocks that he claimed to be the earliest musical instruments?' Innocent and unanswerable, the question 'How did music begin?' strikes us as childlike; it has fallen out of currency. In journalism, fiction, the testimony of musicians and composers, and in psychological and psychoanalytical literature, music's origin is still touched upon obliquely. Roland Barthes, inviting the postmodern reader 'not [to] reject the delirium of origins', proposes his own theory concerning certain 'rhythmic incisions ... on cave walls of the Mousterian epoch' that point to 'the intentional reproduc- tion of a [musical] rhythm'.2 But the question of music's origin has vanished from histories of music. This being so, we might ask under what intellectual, institutional or professional circumstances the question was withdrawn: for a discourse on the origins of music continued to the middle of this century with the revised edition of the New Oxford History of Music.3

My research towards this article was supported by the Leverhulme Trust and the School of Research and Graduate Studies at the University of Southampton. ' What's Up Doc?, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1972).

Roland Barthes, 'Listening', The Responsibility of Forms, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (Oxford, 1985), 245-60 (p. 248). Barthes's musical criticism also engages with the question of music's origin from a psychoanalytical perspective. For Barthes, music is a sign of maternal presence/absence, because the voice is the means through which the gap between mother and infant is mediated after the dissolution of symbiosis. See Susan McClary's introduction to Catherine Clement, Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis, 1988), xv, with reference to Barthes in n. 10 (p. 186). Recent references to music's origin occasionally echo the eighteenth-century theories examined here. For example, an article by Hilary Finch, 'Babes in Arms in Harmony', The Times, 25 October 1995, Arts Section, concerning the musical instruction of infants, implicitly upholds a view of music (not just musical talent or genius) as innate in humankind - a view first met at the end of the eighteenth century. Composer Pauline Oliveros's notion of environmental sound echoes seventeenth- and eighteenth-century concepts of music as an objet trouve. See Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80 (Baltimore, 1984), 27.

3 Marius Schneider, 'The Origin of Music', Ancient and Oriental Music, ed. Egon Wellesz, The New Oxford History of Music, 1 (London, 1957), 5-8. For a sample of early twentieth-century theories of music's origin see also Robert Lach, 'Die Musik der Natur - und orientalischen Kultur- volker', Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, ed. Guido Adler, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Berlin, 1930), i, 3-34.

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

I shall not attempt to solve the mystery of the question's disappearance here, though it seems clear that the principal threat to its survival came from what might provisionally be termed musicological positivism.4 Allen brought the question to the verge of extinction in his Philosophies of Music History, first published in 1939. For if on one level Allen offers a history of the discourse on origin, on another he offers an argument against the inclusion of the question in professional historical writings about music, in what he characterizes as 'objective' history.5 The institu- tional and professional pressures acting against this discourse in the first

part of this century are sensed in Allen's summaries of the literature from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against which are raised

charges of groundlessness, conjecture, national bias and lack of evidence.6 For Allen, the whole topic bespoke a historiographically fateful and Romantic fascination with the inexplicable that would be more

productively put aside. Allen also criticized the outmoded anthropological methodology of

late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century discourses on music's origin. Specifically, he rejected the assumption that non-European societies

preserved prehistoric musical practices. This assumption, Allen noted, informed 'the old custom of beginning music histories with a condescend- ing chapter on "primitive" music'.7 With the 'evidence' of 'primitive' music discredited, discourse on music's origin had nowhere to turn for the proof and substantiation that the discipline required. The question all but vanished from print.

What claims, then, can eighteenth-century discussions of music's origin make upon our attention? There is a fascination in hearing something spoken of, about which we have ceased to speak, and I have read the

eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin with the ferocious curiosity of one eavesdropping on ancient conversation. On one level, then, it is

simply the fact of a discourse on music's origin that is of interest. Yet it is the fictitious nature of this discourse that makes it of interest from the standpoints of eighteenth-century historiography and musical aesthetics. First, for reasons discussed below, discourse on music's origin occupied a problematic place in Enlightenment historiography, not least

4 The term is admittedly overused and is perhaps too deeply embroiled in the rhetoric of the 'traditional' versus 'new' musicologies to be useful here. To some extent, I understand

positivism in the common methodological sense: an upholding of standards of documentary proof and evidence. And yet I do not ultimately conceive of positivism as a methodology so much as (1) a particular style of writing, and (2) a particular range of approved subject-matters. The question is not then simply of standards of evidence. Indeed, musicological positivism embraced highly conjectural scholarship on questions such as attribution, performance prac- tice, the biography of composers, etc. The disappearance of the question of music's origin from histories of music can thus be explained only in part by the impossibility of an answer based

upon written documents. The nature of the question (a 'nature' constituted in large part by the history of the answers) was also a factor, and it is clear from the remarks of Eggebrecht and Fubini, discussed in the conclusion below, that the question was considered too mythological for consideration in official histories of music. Thus the disappearance of the question of music's

origin was itself a defining feature of musicological positivism. 5 Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music

1600-1960 (2nd rev. edn, New York, 1962), 204. f Ibid., ch. 9, 'The Quest for Origins'. 7 Ibid., 204.

I shall not attempt to solve the mystery of the question's disappearance here, though it seems clear that the principal threat to its survival came from what might provisionally be termed musicological positivism.4 Allen brought the question to the verge of extinction in his Philosophies of Music History, first published in 1939. For if on one level Allen offers a history of the discourse on origin, on another he offers an argument against the inclusion of the question in professional historical writings about music, in what he characterizes as 'objective' history.5 The institu- tional and professional pressures acting against this discourse in the first

part of this century are sensed in Allen's summaries of the literature from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against which are raised

charges of groundlessness, conjecture, national bias and lack of evidence.6 For Allen, the whole topic bespoke a historiographically fateful and Romantic fascination with the inexplicable that would be more

productively put aside. Allen also criticized the outmoded anthropological methodology of

late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century discourses on music's origin. Specifically, he rejected the assumption that non-European societies

preserved prehistoric musical practices. This assumption, Allen noted, informed 'the old custom of beginning music histories with a condescend- ing chapter on "primitive" music'.7 With the 'evidence' of 'primitive' music discredited, discourse on music's origin had nowhere to turn for the proof and substantiation that the discipline required. The question all but vanished from print.

What claims, then, can eighteenth-century discussions of music's origin make upon our attention? There is a fascination in hearing something spoken of, about which we have ceased to speak, and I have read the

eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin with the ferocious curiosity of one eavesdropping on ancient conversation. On one level, then, it is

simply the fact of a discourse on music's origin that is of interest. Yet it is the fictitious nature of this discourse that makes it of interest from the standpoints of eighteenth-century historiography and musical aesthetics. First, for reasons discussed below, discourse on music's origin occupied a problematic place in Enlightenment historiography, not least

4 The term is admittedly overused and is perhaps too deeply embroiled in the rhetoric of the 'traditional' versus 'new' musicologies to be useful here. To some extent, I understand

positivism in the common methodological sense: an upholding of standards of documentary proof and evidence. And yet I do not ultimately conceive of positivism as a methodology so much as (1) a particular style of writing, and (2) a particular range of approved subject-matters. The question is not then simply of standards of evidence. Indeed, musicological positivism embraced highly conjectural scholarship on questions such as attribution, performance prac- tice, the biography of composers, etc. The disappearance of the question of music's origin from histories of music can thus be explained only in part by the impossibility of an answer based

upon written documents. The nature of the question (a 'nature' constituted in large part by the history of the answers) was also a factor, and it is clear from the remarks of Eggebrecht and Fubini, discussed in the conclusion below, that the question was considered too mythological for consideration in official histories of music. Thus the disappearance of the question of music's

origin was itself a defining feature of musicological positivism. 5 Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music

1600-1960 (2nd rev. edn, New York, 1962), 204. f Ibid., ch. 9, 'The Quest for Origins'. 7 Ibid., 204.

I shall not attempt to solve the mystery of the question's disappearance here, though it seems clear that the principal threat to its survival came from what might provisionally be termed musicological positivism.4 Allen brought the question to the verge of extinction in his Philosophies of Music History, first published in 1939. For if on one level Allen offers a history of the discourse on origin, on another he offers an argument against the inclusion of the question in professional historical writings about music, in what he characterizes as 'objective' history.5 The institu- tional and professional pressures acting against this discourse in the first

part of this century are sensed in Allen's summaries of the literature from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against which are raised

charges of groundlessness, conjecture, national bias and lack of evidence.6 For Allen, the whole topic bespoke a historiographically fateful and Romantic fascination with the inexplicable that would be more

productively put aside. Allen also criticized the outmoded anthropological methodology of

late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century discourses on music's origin. Specifically, he rejected the assumption that non-European societies

preserved prehistoric musical practices. This assumption, Allen noted, informed 'the old custom of beginning music histories with a condescend- ing chapter on "primitive" music'.7 With the 'evidence' of 'primitive' music discredited, discourse on music's origin had nowhere to turn for the proof and substantiation that the discipline required. The question all but vanished from print.

What claims, then, can eighteenth-century discussions of music's origin make upon our attention? There is a fascination in hearing something spoken of, about which we have ceased to speak, and I have read the

eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin with the ferocious curiosity of one eavesdropping on ancient conversation. On one level, then, it is

simply the fact of a discourse on music's origin that is of interest. Yet it is the fictitious nature of this discourse that makes it of interest from the standpoints of eighteenth-century historiography and musical aesthetics. First, for reasons discussed below, discourse on music's origin occupied a problematic place in Enlightenment historiography, not least

4 The term is admittedly overused and is perhaps too deeply embroiled in the rhetoric of the 'traditional' versus 'new' musicologies to be useful here. To some extent, I understand

positivism in the common methodological sense: an upholding of standards of documentary proof and evidence. And yet I do not ultimately conceive of positivism as a methodology so much as (1) a particular style of writing, and (2) a particular range of approved subject-matters. The question is not then simply of standards of evidence. Indeed, musicological positivism embraced highly conjectural scholarship on questions such as attribution, performance prac- tice, the biography of composers, etc. The disappearance of the question of music's origin from histories of music can thus be explained only in part by the impossibility of an answer based

upon written documents. The nature of the question (a 'nature' constituted in large part by the history of the answers) was also a factor, and it is clear from the remarks of Eggebrecht and Fubini, discussed in the conclusion below, that the question was considered too mythological for consideration in official histories of music. Thus the disappearance of the question of music's

origin was itself a defining feature of musicological positivism. 5 Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music

1600-1960 (2nd rev. edn, New York, 1962), 204. f Ibid., ch. 9, 'The Quest for Origins'. 7 Ibid., 204.

I shall not attempt to solve the mystery of the question's disappearance here, though it seems clear that the principal threat to its survival came from what might provisionally be termed musicological positivism.4 Allen brought the question to the verge of extinction in his Philosophies of Music History, first published in 1939. For if on one level Allen offers a history of the discourse on origin, on another he offers an argument against the inclusion of the question in professional historical writings about music, in what he characterizes as 'objective' history.5 The institu- tional and professional pressures acting against this discourse in the first

part of this century are sensed in Allen's summaries of the literature from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against which are raised

charges of groundlessness, conjecture, national bias and lack of evidence.6 For Allen, the whole topic bespoke a historiographically fateful and Romantic fascination with the inexplicable that would be more

productively put aside. Allen also criticized the outmoded anthropological methodology of

late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century discourses on music's origin. Specifically, he rejected the assumption that non-European societies

preserved prehistoric musical practices. This assumption, Allen noted, informed 'the old custom of beginning music histories with a condescend- ing chapter on "primitive" music'.7 With the 'evidence' of 'primitive' music discredited, discourse on music's origin had nowhere to turn for the proof and substantiation that the discipline required. The question all but vanished from print.

What claims, then, can eighteenth-century discussions of music's origin make upon our attention? There is a fascination in hearing something spoken of, about which we have ceased to speak, and I have read the

eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin with the ferocious curiosity of one eavesdropping on ancient conversation. On one level, then, it is

simply the fact of a discourse on music's origin that is of interest. Yet it is the fictitious nature of this discourse that makes it of interest from the standpoints of eighteenth-century historiography and musical aesthetics. First, for reasons discussed below, discourse on music's origin occupied a problematic place in Enlightenment historiography, not least

4 The term is admittedly overused and is perhaps too deeply embroiled in the rhetoric of the 'traditional' versus 'new' musicologies to be useful here. To some extent, I understand

positivism in the common methodological sense: an upholding of standards of documentary proof and evidence. And yet I do not ultimately conceive of positivism as a methodology so much as (1) a particular style of writing, and (2) a particular range of approved subject-matters. The question is not then simply of standards of evidence. Indeed, musicological positivism embraced highly conjectural scholarship on questions such as attribution, performance prac- tice, the biography of composers, etc. The disappearance of the question of music's origin from histories of music can thus be explained only in part by the impossibility of an answer based

upon written documents. The nature of the question (a 'nature' constituted in large part by the history of the answers) was also a factor, and it is clear from the remarks of Eggebrecht and Fubini, discussed in the conclusion below, that the question was considered too mythological for consideration in official histories of music. Thus the disappearance of the question of music's

origin was itself a defining feature of musicological positivism. 5 Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music

1600-1960 (2nd rev. edn, New York, 1962), 204. f Ibid., ch. 9, 'The Quest for Origins'. 7 Ibid., 204.

I shall not attempt to solve the mystery of the question's disappearance here, though it seems clear that the principal threat to its survival came from what might provisionally be termed musicological positivism.4 Allen brought the question to the verge of extinction in his Philosophies of Music History, first published in 1939. For if on one level Allen offers a history of the discourse on origin, on another he offers an argument against the inclusion of the question in professional historical writings about music, in what he characterizes as 'objective' history.5 The institu- tional and professional pressures acting against this discourse in the first

part of this century are sensed in Allen's summaries of the literature from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against which are raised

charges of groundlessness, conjecture, national bias and lack of evidence.6 For Allen, the whole topic bespoke a historiographically fateful and Romantic fascination with the inexplicable that would be more

productively put aside. Allen also criticized the outmoded anthropological methodology of

late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century discourses on music's origin. Specifically, he rejected the assumption that non-European societies

preserved prehistoric musical practices. This assumption, Allen noted, informed 'the old custom of beginning music histories with a condescend- ing chapter on "primitive" music'.7 With the 'evidence' of 'primitive' music discredited, discourse on music's origin had nowhere to turn for the proof and substantiation that the discipline required. The question all but vanished from print.

What claims, then, can eighteenth-century discussions of music's origin make upon our attention? There is a fascination in hearing something spoken of, about which we have ceased to speak, and I have read the

eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin with the ferocious curiosity of one eavesdropping on ancient conversation. On one level, then, it is

simply the fact of a discourse on music's origin that is of interest. Yet it is the fictitious nature of this discourse that makes it of interest from the standpoints of eighteenth-century historiography and musical aesthetics. First, for reasons discussed below, discourse on music's origin occupied a problematic place in Enlightenment historiography, not least

4 The term is admittedly overused and is perhaps too deeply embroiled in the rhetoric of the 'traditional' versus 'new' musicologies to be useful here. To some extent, I understand

positivism in the common methodological sense: an upholding of standards of documentary proof and evidence. And yet I do not ultimately conceive of positivism as a methodology so much as (1) a particular style of writing, and (2) a particular range of approved subject-matters. The question is not then simply of standards of evidence. Indeed, musicological positivism embraced highly conjectural scholarship on questions such as attribution, performance prac- tice, the biography of composers, etc. The disappearance of the question of music's origin from histories of music can thus be explained only in part by the impossibility of an answer based

upon written documents. The nature of the question (a 'nature' constituted in large part by the history of the answers) was also a factor, and it is clear from the remarks of Eggebrecht and Fubini, discussed in the conclusion below, that the question was considered too mythological for consideration in official histories of music. Thus the disappearance of the question of music's

origin was itself a defining feature of musicological positivism. 5 Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music

1600-1960 (2nd rev. edn, New York, 1962), 204. f Ibid., ch. 9, 'The Quest for Origins'. 7 Ibid., 204.

2 2 2 2 2

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

because it fell short of the documentary certitude that came to be cherished by eighteenth-century historians. Consequently, it points to tensions and contradictions existing within just those late eighteenth- century narratives that have been regarded as originary models for modern music history. Second, discourse on music's origin was as much aesthetic as historical. Here writers set forth their views on the nature of music, often in ways that appear more imaginative than in their now

anthologized treatises dedicated specifically to musical aesthetics. By way of introduction, I shall elaborate upon these points.

With the first pages of eighteenth-century histories of music we enter a realm of fiction, conjecture and mysticism, peopled by gods and

legendary beings. The authorship and attribution of particular theories were obscured as writers drew upon each other's speculations. In its mythological and anecdotal elements, this discourse resembled unofficial and epistemologically stigmatized forms of knowledge, such as super- stition and rumour. Circulating like gossip, this discourse was a series of sourceless retellings, whose authority was accumulated rhetorically through frequency of repetition. (This is not to imply, however, that other forms of knowledge necessarily acquire auras of plausibility and truth in fundamentally different ways.)8 The anonymous author-compiler of the Kurtzgefa,ftes musicalisches Lexicon (1749) drew the following far-flung remarks from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, who himself acknowledged that his history of music was 'drawn from the foremost writers' on the subject:

Just as all things which belong to mankind are to be attributed solely to the infinite goodness of God most high, so the invention of noble music should be attributed solely to Him; this is recognized not only by all Christians, for even the heathens admitted as much (Plutarch in Libr. de Musica); and although Pliny attributed its invention to Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56) and others to Orpheus, it none the less seems quite certain to reason that the invention of music should be attributed toJubal.... The guiding stimuli to the inven- tion of music have been (a) the various accents of the human voice, which divert the hearing . .. (b) birdsong, for it is plausible that, in their idle hours, people wanted to reproduce it through mimicry . . . (c) the whistling of the wind in the trees.9

The underworld of Enlightenment ethical, moral, sexual and epistemological practices was the subject of a series of seminars at King's College Cambridge in 1994 and a related con- ference, 'Sex and Knowledge: The First Unofficial Knowledge Conference' at King's College, 6-9 June 1994.

9 'Gleichwie nun aber alle Dinge, welche das menschliche Geschlecht besitzet, eintzig und allein der unermeBlichen Gutigkeit des allerhochsten Gottes zuzuschreiben seyn; also soll man auch die Erfindung der edlen Music demselben allein zueignen, welches nicht nur alle Christen erkennen; sondern auch die Heyden selbst haben solches zugestanden (Plutarch. in Libr. de Musica); wenn auch gleich Plinius dem Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56), und andere dem Orpheus solche Erfindung beylegen, so geschicht es doch in eben dem Verstande, als wenn dem Jubal solches beygeleget wird.... Die anleitenden Anreitzungen, die Music zu erfinden, sind gewesen: (a) die unterschiedlichen Accente der menschlichen Stimme, welche das Gehor belustiget ... (b) der Vogel Singen, davon gar glaublich ist, daB die Menschen bey miuBigen Stunden, dasselbige durch eine Nachahmung vorstellen wollen ... (c) das Pfeiffen der von denen Winden bewegten Baume'. Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon . . . nebst einer historischen Beschreibung von der Music Rahmen, Eintheilung, Ursprung, Erfindung, Vermehrung und Verbesserung (new edn, Ehemnitz, 1749), 13-15. This is drawn from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Historische Beschreibung der edelen Sing- und Kling-Kunst . .. aus denen vornehmsten Autoribus abgefasset (Dresden, 1690). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

because it fell short of the documentary certitude that came to be cherished by eighteenth-century historians. Consequently, it points to tensions and contradictions existing within just those late eighteenth- century narratives that have been regarded as originary models for modern music history. Second, discourse on music's origin was as much aesthetic as historical. Here writers set forth their views on the nature of music, often in ways that appear more imaginative than in their now

anthologized treatises dedicated specifically to musical aesthetics. By way of introduction, I shall elaborate upon these points.

With the first pages of eighteenth-century histories of music we enter a realm of fiction, conjecture and mysticism, peopled by gods and

legendary beings. The authorship and attribution of particular theories were obscured as writers drew upon each other's speculations. In its mythological and anecdotal elements, this discourse resembled unofficial and epistemologically stigmatized forms of knowledge, such as super- stition and rumour. Circulating like gossip, this discourse was a series of sourceless retellings, whose authority was accumulated rhetorically through frequency of repetition. (This is not to imply, however, that other forms of knowledge necessarily acquire auras of plausibility and truth in fundamentally different ways.)8 The anonymous author-compiler of the Kurtzgefa,ftes musicalisches Lexicon (1749) drew the following far-flung remarks from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, who himself acknowledged that his history of music was 'drawn from the foremost writers' on the subject:

Just as all things which belong to mankind are to be attributed solely to the infinite goodness of God most high, so the invention of noble music should be attributed solely to Him; this is recognized not only by all Christians, for even the heathens admitted as much (Plutarch in Libr. de Musica); and although Pliny attributed its invention to Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56) and others to Orpheus, it none the less seems quite certain to reason that the invention of music should be attributed toJubal.... The guiding stimuli to the inven- tion of music have been (a) the various accents of the human voice, which divert the hearing . .. (b) birdsong, for it is plausible that, in their idle hours, people wanted to reproduce it through mimicry . . . (c) the whistling of the wind in the trees.9

The underworld of Enlightenment ethical, moral, sexual and epistemological practices was the subject of a series of seminars at King's College Cambridge in 1994 and a related con- ference, 'Sex and Knowledge: The First Unofficial Knowledge Conference' at King's College, 6-9 June 1994.

9 'Gleichwie nun aber alle Dinge, welche das menschliche Geschlecht besitzet, eintzig und allein der unermeBlichen Gutigkeit des allerhochsten Gottes zuzuschreiben seyn; also soll man auch die Erfindung der edlen Music demselben allein zueignen, welches nicht nur alle Christen erkennen; sondern auch die Heyden selbst haben solches zugestanden (Plutarch. in Libr. de Musica); wenn auch gleich Plinius dem Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56), und andere dem Orpheus solche Erfindung beylegen, so geschicht es doch in eben dem Verstande, als wenn dem Jubal solches beygeleget wird.... Die anleitenden Anreitzungen, die Music zu erfinden, sind gewesen: (a) die unterschiedlichen Accente der menschlichen Stimme, welche das Gehor belustiget ... (b) der Vogel Singen, davon gar glaublich ist, daB die Menschen bey miuBigen Stunden, dasselbige durch eine Nachahmung vorstellen wollen ... (c) das Pfeiffen der von denen Winden bewegten Baume'. Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon . . . nebst einer historischen Beschreibung von der Music Rahmen, Eintheilung, Ursprung, Erfindung, Vermehrung und Verbesserung (new edn, Ehemnitz, 1749), 13-15. This is drawn from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Historische Beschreibung der edelen Sing- und Kling-Kunst . .. aus denen vornehmsten Autoribus abgefasset (Dresden, 1690). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

because it fell short of the documentary certitude that came to be cherished by eighteenth-century historians. Consequently, it points to tensions and contradictions existing within just those late eighteenth- century narratives that have been regarded as originary models for modern music history. Second, discourse on music's origin was as much aesthetic as historical. Here writers set forth their views on the nature of music, often in ways that appear more imaginative than in their now

anthologized treatises dedicated specifically to musical aesthetics. By way of introduction, I shall elaborate upon these points.

With the first pages of eighteenth-century histories of music we enter a realm of fiction, conjecture and mysticism, peopled by gods and

legendary beings. The authorship and attribution of particular theories were obscured as writers drew upon each other's speculations. In its mythological and anecdotal elements, this discourse resembled unofficial and epistemologically stigmatized forms of knowledge, such as super- stition and rumour. Circulating like gossip, this discourse was a series of sourceless retellings, whose authority was accumulated rhetorically through frequency of repetition. (This is not to imply, however, that other forms of knowledge necessarily acquire auras of plausibility and truth in fundamentally different ways.)8 The anonymous author-compiler of the Kurtzgefa,ftes musicalisches Lexicon (1749) drew the following far-flung remarks from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, who himself acknowledged that his history of music was 'drawn from the foremost writers' on the subject:

Just as all things which belong to mankind are to be attributed solely to the infinite goodness of God most high, so the invention of noble music should be attributed solely to Him; this is recognized not only by all Christians, for even the heathens admitted as much (Plutarch in Libr. de Musica); and although Pliny attributed its invention to Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56) and others to Orpheus, it none the less seems quite certain to reason that the invention of music should be attributed toJubal.... The guiding stimuli to the inven- tion of music have been (a) the various accents of the human voice, which divert the hearing . .. (b) birdsong, for it is plausible that, in their idle hours, people wanted to reproduce it through mimicry . . . (c) the whistling of the wind in the trees.9

The underworld of Enlightenment ethical, moral, sexual and epistemological practices was the subject of a series of seminars at King's College Cambridge in 1994 and a related con- ference, 'Sex and Knowledge: The First Unofficial Knowledge Conference' at King's College, 6-9 June 1994.

9 'Gleichwie nun aber alle Dinge, welche das menschliche Geschlecht besitzet, eintzig und allein der unermeBlichen Gutigkeit des allerhochsten Gottes zuzuschreiben seyn; also soll man auch die Erfindung der edlen Music demselben allein zueignen, welches nicht nur alle Christen erkennen; sondern auch die Heyden selbst haben solches zugestanden (Plutarch. in Libr. de Musica); wenn auch gleich Plinius dem Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56), und andere dem Orpheus solche Erfindung beylegen, so geschicht es doch in eben dem Verstande, als wenn dem Jubal solches beygeleget wird.... Die anleitenden Anreitzungen, die Music zu erfinden, sind gewesen: (a) die unterschiedlichen Accente der menschlichen Stimme, welche das Gehor belustiget ... (b) der Vogel Singen, davon gar glaublich ist, daB die Menschen bey miuBigen Stunden, dasselbige durch eine Nachahmung vorstellen wollen ... (c) das Pfeiffen der von denen Winden bewegten Baume'. Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon . . . nebst einer historischen Beschreibung von der Music Rahmen, Eintheilung, Ursprung, Erfindung, Vermehrung und Verbesserung (new edn, Ehemnitz, 1749), 13-15. This is drawn from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Historische Beschreibung der edelen Sing- und Kling-Kunst . .. aus denen vornehmsten Autoribus abgefasset (Dresden, 1690). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

because it fell short of the documentary certitude that came to be cherished by eighteenth-century historians. Consequently, it points to tensions and contradictions existing within just those late eighteenth- century narratives that have been regarded as originary models for modern music history. Second, discourse on music's origin was as much aesthetic as historical. Here writers set forth their views on the nature of music, often in ways that appear more imaginative than in their now

anthologized treatises dedicated specifically to musical aesthetics. By way of introduction, I shall elaborate upon these points.

With the first pages of eighteenth-century histories of music we enter a realm of fiction, conjecture and mysticism, peopled by gods and

legendary beings. The authorship and attribution of particular theories were obscured as writers drew upon each other's speculations. In its mythological and anecdotal elements, this discourse resembled unofficial and epistemologically stigmatized forms of knowledge, such as super- stition and rumour. Circulating like gossip, this discourse was a series of sourceless retellings, whose authority was accumulated rhetorically through frequency of repetition. (This is not to imply, however, that other forms of knowledge necessarily acquire auras of plausibility and truth in fundamentally different ways.)8 The anonymous author-compiler of the Kurtzgefa,ftes musicalisches Lexicon (1749) drew the following far-flung remarks from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, who himself acknowledged that his history of music was 'drawn from the foremost writers' on the subject:

Just as all things which belong to mankind are to be attributed solely to the infinite goodness of God most high, so the invention of noble music should be attributed solely to Him; this is recognized not only by all Christians, for even the heathens admitted as much (Plutarch in Libr. de Musica); and although Pliny attributed its invention to Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56) and others to Orpheus, it none the less seems quite certain to reason that the invention of music should be attributed toJubal.... The guiding stimuli to the inven- tion of music have been (a) the various accents of the human voice, which divert the hearing . .. (b) birdsong, for it is plausible that, in their idle hours, people wanted to reproduce it through mimicry . . . (c) the whistling of the wind in the trees.9

The underworld of Enlightenment ethical, moral, sexual and epistemological practices was the subject of a series of seminars at King's College Cambridge in 1994 and a related con- ference, 'Sex and Knowledge: The First Unofficial Knowledge Conference' at King's College, 6-9 June 1994.

9 'Gleichwie nun aber alle Dinge, welche das menschliche Geschlecht besitzet, eintzig und allein der unermeBlichen Gutigkeit des allerhochsten Gottes zuzuschreiben seyn; also soll man auch die Erfindung der edlen Music demselben allein zueignen, welches nicht nur alle Christen erkennen; sondern auch die Heyden selbst haben solches zugestanden (Plutarch. in Libr. de Musica); wenn auch gleich Plinius dem Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56), und andere dem Orpheus solche Erfindung beylegen, so geschicht es doch in eben dem Verstande, als wenn dem Jubal solches beygeleget wird.... Die anleitenden Anreitzungen, die Music zu erfinden, sind gewesen: (a) die unterschiedlichen Accente der menschlichen Stimme, welche das Gehor belustiget ... (b) der Vogel Singen, davon gar glaublich ist, daB die Menschen bey miuBigen Stunden, dasselbige durch eine Nachahmung vorstellen wollen ... (c) das Pfeiffen der von denen Winden bewegten Baume'. Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon . . . nebst einer historischen Beschreibung von der Music Rahmen, Eintheilung, Ursprung, Erfindung, Vermehrung und Verbesserung (new edn, Ehemnitz, 1749), 13-15. This is drawn from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Historische Beschreibung der edelen Sing- und Kling-Kunst . .. aus denen vornehmsten Autoribus abgefasset (Dresden, 1690). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

because it fell short of the documentary certitude that came to be cherished by eighteenth-century historians. Consequently, it points to tensions and contradictions existing within just those late eighteenth- century narratives that have been regarded as originary models for modern music history. Second, discourse on music's origin was as much aesthetic as historical. Here writers set forth their views on the nature of music, often in ways that appear more imaginative than in their now

anthologized treatises dedicated specifically to musical aesthetics. By way of introduction, I shall elaborate upon these points.

With the first pages of eighteenth-century histories of music we enter a realm of fiction, conjecture and mysticism, peopled by gods and

legendary beings. The authorship and attribution of particular theories were obscured as writers drew upon each other's speculations. In its mythological and anecdotal elements, this discourse resembled unofficial and epistemologically stigmatized forms of knowledge, such as super- stition and rumour. Circulating like gossip, this discourse was a series of sourceless retellings, whose authority was accumulated rhetorically through frequency of repetition. (This is not to imply, however, that other forms of knowledge necessarily acquire auras of plausibility and truth in fundamentally different ways.)8 The anonymous author-compiler of the Kurtzgefa,ftes musicalisches Lexicon (1749) drew the following far-flung remarks from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, who himself acknowledged that his history of music was 'drawn from the foremost writers' on the subject:

Just as all things which belong to mankind are to be attributed solely to the infinite goodness of God most high, so the invention of noble music should be attributed solely to Him; this is recognized not only by all Christians, for even the heathens admitted as much (Plutarch in Libr. de Musica); and although Pliny attributed its invention to Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56) and others to Orpheus, it none the less seems quite certain to reason that the invention of music should be attributed toJubal.... The guiding stimuli to the inven- tion of music have been (a) the various accents of the human voice, which divert the hearing . .. (b) birdsong, for it is plausible that, in their idle hours, people wanted to reproduce it through mimicry . . . (c) the whistling of the wind in the trees.9

The underworld of Enlightenment ethical, moral, sexual and epistemological practices was the subject of a series of seminars at King's College Cambridge in 1994 and a related con- ference, 'Sex and Knowledge: The First Unofficial Knowledge Conference' at King's College, 6-9 June 1994.

9 'Gleichwie nun aber alle Dinge, welche das menschliche Geschlecht besitzet, eintzig und allein der unermeBlichen Gutigkeit des allerhochsten Gottes zuzuschreiben seyn; also soll man auch die Erfindung der edlen Music demselben allein zueignen, welches nicht nur alle Christen erkennen; sondern auch die Heyden selbst haben solches zugestanden (Plutarch. in Libr. de Musica); wenn auch gleich Plinius dem Amphion (Plin. Hist. VII, 56), und andere dem Orpheus solche Erfindung beylegen, so geschicht es doch in eben dem Verstande, als wenn dem Jubal solches beygeleget wird.... Die anleitenden Anreitzungen, die Music zu erfinden, sind gewesen: (a) die unterschiedlichen Accente der menschlichen Stimme, welche das Gehor belustiget ... (b) der Vogel Singen, davon gar glaublich ist, daB die Menschen bey miuBigen Stunden, dasselbige durch eine Nachahmung vorstellen wollen ... (c) das Pfeiffen der von denen Winden bewegten Baume'. Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon . . . nebst einer historischen Beschreibung von der Music Rahmen, Eintheilung, Ursprung, Erfindung, Vermehrung und Verbesserung (new edn, Ehemnitz, 1749), 13-15. This is drawn from Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Historische Beschreibung der edelen Sing- und Kling-Kunst . .. aus denen vornehmsten Autoribus abgefasset (Dresden, 1690). All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

3 3 3 3 3

MATTHEW IHEAD MATTHEW IHEAD MATTHEW IHEAD MATTHEW IHEAD MATTHEW IHEAD

Such writing belongs to a type of historical narrative that Kant called

conjectural history. Through informed conjecture it was possible to fill in those gaps in knowledge that arose from the absence of written records. But conjecture was a problematic component of Enlightenment historiography, which prided itself on a documentary approach. Kant's attitude is marked by ambivalence, and his remarks at the opening of the 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History' (1786) rapidly work

through a rejection and recuperation of conjecture. On the one hand, 'to originate an historical account from conjectures alone ... would seem to be not much better than to draft a novel'. Thus 'conjectures cannot make too high a claim on one's assent. They cannot announce themselves as serious business.'" On the other hand, in dealing with the beginning of human history, conjecture is permissible, though only because, strict-

ly speaking, such conjecture is not conjecture at all: it is an extrapola- tion from current knowledge of human nature, a nature which we can assume to be immutable, and thus a reliable guide to the reconstruction of the past:

But what may not legitimately be ventured with regard to the progression of the history of human actions may be attempted with regard to their first beginning. At least in so far as this beginning is made by nature, one may attempt to establish it on the basis of pure conjecture. For here one need not resort to fiction but can rely on experience, if only one presupposes that human actions were in the first beginning no better and no worse than we find them now - a presupposition which is according to the analogy of nature and altogether safe."

Thus Kant's rationale for conjectural history paradoxically depends upon an ahistorical notion of humanity, one that, denying the difference between then and now, erases history in the act of writing it.

But Kant radically reconfigures the terms of debate when he describes

conjectural history as 'a mere pleasure trip ... undertaken for the sake of relaxation and mental health'.12 In turning to issues of pleasure and health, Kant frees conjectural history from the historiographical necessity that has until this point subsumed it. Conjectural history is no longer simply, or even primarily, an expedient means of filling in gaps, but rather an intellectually invigorating exercise in its own right. Kant seems to be

saying that for the historian litigiously burdened with truth, with documents, with proof, conjecture is accompanied by a sense of renewal.

For the modern, or rather postmodern, reader of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music, the sensations of 'health', 'pleasure' and 'relaxation' of which Kant spoke may not be too difficult to grasp. For it is precisely the conjecture, the contradictions, the uncertainties of this discourse that make it of interest to readers for whom the gesture of positing an origin has been invested with such professional and

epistemological significance. Indeed, to posit an origin (the origins of the madrigal, of opera, of atonality, etc.) has long been the foundational

'0 Immanuel Kant, 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History', Kant on History, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (New York, 1963), 53-68 (p. 53).

" Ibid. 2 Ibid., 54.

Such writing belongs to a type of historical narrative that Kant called

conjectural history. Through informed conjecture it was possible to fill in those gaps in knowledge that arose from the absence of written records. But conjecture was a problematic component of Enlightenment historiography, which prided itself on a documentary approach. Kant's attitude is marked by ambivalence, and his remarks at the opening of the 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History' (1786) rapidly work

through a rejection and recuperation of conjecture. On the one hand, 'to originate an historical account from conjectures alone ... would seem to be not much better than to draft a novel'. Thus 'conjectures cannot make too high a claim on one's assent. They cannot announce themselves as serious business.'" On the other hand, in dealing with the beginning of human history, conjecture is permissible, though only because, strict-

ly speaking, such conjecture is not conjecture at all: it is an extrapola- tion from current knowledge of human nature, a nature which we can assume to be immutable, and thus a reliable guide to the reconstruction of the past:

But what may not legitimately be ventured with regard to the progression of the history of human actions may be attempted with regard to their first beginning. At least in so far as this beginning is made by nature, one may attempt to establish it on the basis of pure conjecture. For here one need not resort to fiction but can rely on experience, if only one presupposes that human actions were in the first beginning no better and no worse than we find them now - a presupposition which is according to the analogy of nature and altogether safe."

Thus Kant's rationale for conjectural history paradoxically depends upon an ahistorical notion of humanity, one that, denying the difference between then and now, erases history in the act of writing it.

But Kant radically reconfigures the terms of debate when he describes

conjectural history as 'a mere pleasure trip ... undertaken for the sake of relaxation and mental health'.12 In turning to issues of pleasure and health, Kant frees conjectural history from the historiographical necessity that has until this point subsumed it. Conjectural history is no longer simply, or even primarily, an expedient means of filling in gaps, but rather an intellectually invigorating exercise in its own right. Kant seems to be

saying that for the historian litigiously burdened with truth, with documents, with proof, conjecture is accompanied by a sense of renewal.

For the modern, or rather postmodern, reader of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music, the sensations of 'health', 'pleasure' and 'relaxation' of which Kant spoke may not be too difficult to grasp. For it is precisely the conjecture, the contradictions, the uncertainties of this discourse that make it of interest to readers for whom the gesture of positing an origin has been invested with such professional and

epistemological significance. Indeed, to posit an origin (the origins of the madrigal, of opera, of atonality, etc.) has long been the foundational

'0 Immanuel Kant, 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History', Kant on History, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (New York, 1963), 53-68 (p. 53).

" Ibid. 2 Ibid., 54.

Such writing belongs to a type of historical narrative that Kant called

conjectural history. Through informed conjecture it was possible to fill in those gaps in knowledge that arose from the absence of written records. But conjecture was a problematic component of Enlightenment historiography, which prided itself on a documentary approach. Kant's attitude is marked by ambivalence, and his remarks at the opening of the 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History' (1786) rapidly work

through a rejection and recuperation of conjecture. On the one hand, 'to originate an historical account from conjectures alone ... would seem to be not much better than to draft a novel'. Thus 'conjectures cannot make too high a claim on one's assent. They cannot announce themselves as serious business.'" On the other hand, in dealing with the beginning of human history, conjecture is permissible, though only because, strict-

ly speaking, such conjecture is not conjecture at all: it is an extrapola- tion from current knowledge of human nature, a nature which we can assume to be immutable, and thus a reliable guide to the reconstruction of the past:

But what may not legitimately be ventured with regard to the progression of the history of human actions may be attempted with regard to their first beginning. At least in so far as this beginning is made by nature, one may attempt to establish it on the basis of pure conjecture. For here one need not resort to fiction but can rely on experience, if only one presupposes that human actions were in the first beginning no better and no worse than we find them now - a presupposition which is according to the analogy of nature and altogether safe."

Thus Kant's rationale for conjectural history paradoxically depends upon an ahistorical notion of humanity, one that, denying the difference between then and now, erases history in the act of writing it.

But Kant radically reconfigures the terms of debate when he describes

conjectural history as 'a mere pleasure trip ... undertaken for the sake of relaxation and mental health'.12 In turning to issues of pleasure and health, Kant frees conjectural history from the historiographical necessity that has until this point subsumed it. Conjectural history is no longer simply, or even primarily, an expedient means of filling in gaps, but rather an intellectually invigorating exercise in its own right. Kant seems to be

saying that for the historian litigiously burdened with truth, with documents, with proof, conjecture is accompanied by a sense of renewal.

For the modern, or rather postmodern, reader of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music, the sensations of 'health', 'pleasure' and 'relaxation' of which Kant spoke may not be too difficult to grasp. For it is precisely the conjecture, the contradictions, the uncertainties of this discourse that make it of interest to readers for whom the gesture of positing an origin has been invested with such professional and

epistemological significance. Indeed, to posit an origin (the origins of the madrigal, of opera, of atonality, etc.) has long been the foundational

'0 Immanuel Kant, 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History', Kant on History, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (New York, 1963), 53-68 (p. 53).

" Ibid. 2 Ibid., 54.

Such writing belongs to a type of historical narrative that Kant called

conjectural history. Through informed conjecture it was possible to fill in those gaps in knowledge that arose from the absence of written records. But conjecture was a problematic component of Enlightenment historiography, which prided itself on a documentary approach. Kant's attitude is marked by ambivalence, and his remarks at the opening of the 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History' (1786) rapidly work

through a rejection and recuperation of conjecture. On the one hand, 'to originate an historical account from conjectures alone ... would seem to be not much better than to draft a novel'. Thus 'conjectures cannot make too high a claim on one's assent. They cannot announce themselves as serious business.'" On the other hand, in dealing with the beginning of human history, conjecture is permissible, though only because, strict-

ly speaking, such conjecture is not conjecture at all: it is an extrapola- tion from current knowledge of human nature, a nature which we can assume to be immutable, and thus a reliable guide to the reconstruction of the past:

But what may not legitimately be ventured with regard to the progression of the history of human actions may be attempted with regard to their first beginning. At least in so far as this beginning is made by nature, one may attempt to establish it on the basis of pure conjecture. For here one need not resort to fiction but can rely on experience, if only one presupposes that human actions were in the first beginning no better and no worse than we find them now - a presupposition which is according to the analogy of nature and altogether safe."

Thus Kant's rationale for conjectural history paradoxically depends upon an ahistorical notion of humanity, one that, denying the difference between then and now, erases history in the act of writing it.

But Kant radically reconfigures the terms of debate when he describes

conjectural history as 'a mere pleasure trip ... undertaken for the sake of relaxation and mental health'.12 In turning to issues of pleasure and health, Kant frees conjectural history from the historiographical necessity that has until this point subsumed it. Conjectural history is no longer simply, or even primarily, an expedient means of filling in gaps, but rather an intellectually invigorating exercise in its own right. Kant seems to be

saying that for the historian litigiously burdened with truth, with documents, with proof, conjecture is accompanied by a sense of renewal.

For the modern, or rather postmodern, reader of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music, the sensations of 'health', 'pleasure' and 'relaxation' of which Kant spoke may not be too difficult to grasp. For it is precisely the conjecture, the contradictions, the uncertainties of this discourse that make it of interest to readers for whom the gesture of positing an origin has been invested with such professional and

epistemological significance. Indeed, to posit an origin (the origins of the madrigal, of opera, of atonality, etc.) has long been the foundational

'0 Immanuel Kant, 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History', Kant on History, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (New York, 1963), 53-68 (p. 53).

" Ibid. 2 Ibid., 54.

Such writing belongs to a type of historical narrative that Kant called

conjectural history. Through informed conjecture it was possible to fill in those gaps in knowledge that arose from the absence of written records. But conjecture was a problematic component of Enlightenment historiography, which prided itself on a documentary approach. Kant's attitude is marked by ambivalence, and his remarks at the opening of the 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History' (1786) rapidly work

through a rejection and recuperation of conjecture. On the one hand, 'to originate an historical account from conjectures alone ... would seem to be not much better than to draft a novel'. Thus 'conjectures cannot make too high a claim on one's assent. They cannot announce themselves as serious business.'" On the other hand, in dealing with the beginning of human history, conjecture is permissible, though only because, strict-

ly speaking, such conjecture is not conjecture at all: it is an extrapola- tion from current knowledge of human nature, a nature which we can assume to be immutable, and thus a reliable guide to the reconstruction of the past:

But what may not legitimately be ventured with regard to the progression of the history of human actions may be attempted with regard to their first beginning. At least in so far as this beginning is made by nature, one may attempt to establish it on the basis of pure conjecture. For here one need not resort to fiction but can rely on experience, if only one presupposes that human actions were in the first beginning no better and no worse than we find them now - a presupposition which is according to the analogy of nature and altogether safe."

Thus Kant's rationale for conjectural history paradoxically depends upon an ahistorical notion of humanity, one that, denying the difference between then and now, erases history in the act of writing it.

But Kant radically reconfigures the terms of debate when he describes

conjectural history as 'a mere pleasure trip ... undertaken for the sake of relaxation and mental health'.12 In turning to issues of pleasure and health, Kant frees conjectural history from the historiographical necessity that has until this point subsumed it. Conjectural history is no longer simply, or even primarily, an expedient means of filling in gaps, but rather an intellectually invigorating exercise in its own right. Kant seems to be

saying that for the historian litigiously burdened with truth, with documents, with proof, conjecture is accompanied by a sense of renewal.

For the modern, or rather postmodern, reader of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music, the sensations of 'health', 'pleasure' and 'relaxation' of which Kant spoke may not be too difficult to grasp. For it is precisely the conjecture, the contradictions, the uncertainties of this discourse that make it of interest to readers for whom the gesture of positing an origin has been invested with such professional and

epistemological significance. Indeed, to posit an origin (the origins of the madrigal, of opera, of atonality, etc.) has long been the foundational

'0 Immanuel Kant, 'Conjectural Beginning of Human History', Kant on History, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (New York, 1963), 53-68 (p. 53).

" Ibid. 2 Ibid., 54.

4 4 4 4 4

BIRDSONG AND TIlE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND TIlE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND TIlE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND TIlE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND TIlE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

and even culminating gesture of a career in history. In this professional and intellectual context, the speculative and sometimes playful nature of the eighteenth-century discourse on origin is intellectually refreshing.

The sense of renewal that accompanied conjecture for Kant can be traced to the specific intellectual conditions under which conjecture was ventured. For conjecture was a transgressive component of Enlighten- ment historiography, temporarily relaxing the burdensome legality of historical method. Standards of evidence and proof were temporarily put aside in a carnivalesque inversion of historiographical standards - as though the writing of history had become part of the play element in culture.13 In writing and reading about conjecture, not only in the context of the Enlightenment but also, I suggest, in that of musicological positivism, there is a sense of expansion in the boundaries of what is deemed a valid statement. The freeing exercise of personal opinion and fantasy, the transgression of standards of proof and evidence, are accom- panied by a sense not only of liberation but of the possibility of change. As Foucault remarks of the writing of history, 'we know perfectly well that we are not free to say just anything'.'4 Discourse on music's origin is a place where this is - almost - no longer true.

Despite Kant's theory of conjectural history, discourse on music's origin was the site of a methodological contradiction in Enlightenment histories. On the one hand, there was an intellectual investment in 'origin' as a site of uncontaminated truth. The point of origin for Aristotle offered 'the clearest view'.'5 And yet, on the other hand, there was no possibility of ascertaining the origins of music through the type of documentary, text- and source-critical methods cherished by eighteenth-century (and more recent) historians. There was a historiographical need to speak of origin, but one that led eighteenth-century historians to embarrassed con- sultation with ancient fabulists and poets, to conjecture, allegory, fable and second-hand quotation. In the court-room of history, writers bore witness to events of which they had no knowledge. For precisely these reasons, discourse on music's origin is of historiographical interest.

This fabulous testimony is also an untapped repository of aesthetic writing because, in the eighteenth century, the question of origin was inseparable from questions of nature and essence, beauty, ownership and pleasure. In the present century, the question of origin has been the sub- ject of a postmodern critique that has usefully undermined its hold on the history of ideas.'6 In the eighteenth century, however, to posit the origin of music was to found an identity. Sulzer wrote of the necessity of discourse on origin for an understanding of the nature of music: 'If we want to arrive at a correct conception of the nature and being of

" On the play element in culture see Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (London, 1970).

14 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Mark Sheridan Smith (London, 1972), introduction.

'5 'He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them.' Aristotle, The Politics, ed. Stephen Everson (Cambridge, 1988), 1-2.

'1 Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Smith, and Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974).

and even culminating gesture of a career in history. In this professional and intellectual context, the speculative and sometimes playful nature of the eighteenth-century discourse on origin is intellectually refreshing.

The sense of renewal that accompanied conjecture for Kant can be traced to the specific intellectual conditions under which conjecture was ventured. For conjecture was a transgressive component of Enlighten- ment historiography, temporarily relaxing the burdensome legality of historical method. Standards of evidence and proof were temporarily put aside in a carnivalesque inversion of historiographical standards - as though the writing of history had become part of the play element in culture.13 In writing and reading about conjecture, not only in the context of the Enlightenment but also, I suggest, in that of musicological positivism, there is a sense of expansion in the boundaries of what is deemed a valid statement. The freeing exercise of personal opinion and fantasy, the transgression of standards of proof and evidence, are accom- panied by a sense not only of liberation but of the possibility of change. As Foucault remarks of the writing of history, 'we know perfectly well that we are not free to say just anything'.'4 Discourse on music's origin is a place where this is - almost - no longer true.

Despite Kant's theory of conjectural history, discourse on music's origin was the site of a methodological contradiction in Enlightenment histories. On the one hand, there was an intellectual investment in 'origin' as a site of uncontaminated truth. The point of origin for Aristotle offered 'the clearest view'.'5 And yet, on the other hand, there was no possibility of ascertaining the origins of music through the type of documentary, text- and source-critical methods cherished by eighteenth-century (and more recent) historians. There was a historiographical need to speak of origin, but one that led eighteenth-century historians to embarrassed con- sultation with ancient fabulists and poets, to conjecture, allegory, fable and second-hand quotation. In the court-room of history, writers bore witness to events of which they had no knowledge. For precisely these reasons, discourse on music's origin is of historiographical interest.

This fabulous testimony is also an untapped repository of aesthetic writing because, in the eighteenth century, the question of origin was inseparable from questions of nature and essence, beauty, ownership and pleasure. In the present century, the question of origin has been the sub- ject of a postmodern critique that has usefully undermined its hold on the history of ideas.'6 In the eighteenth century, however, to posit the origin of music was to found an identity. Sulzer wrote of the necessity of discourse on origin for an understanding of the nature of music: 'If we want to arrive at a correct conception of the nature and being of

" On the play element in culture see Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (London, 1970).

14 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Mark Sheridan Smith (London, 1972), introduction.

'5 'He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them.' Aristotle, The Politics, ed. Stephen Everson (Cambridge, 1988), 1-2.

'1 Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Smith, and Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974).

and even culminating gesture of a career in history. In this professional and intellectual context, the speculative and sometimes playful nature of the eighteenth-century discourse on origin is intellectually refreshing.

The sense of renewal that accompanied conjecture for Kant can be traced to the specific intellectual conditions under which conjecture was ventured. For conjecture was a transgressive component of Enlighten- ment historiography, temporarily relaxing the burdensome legality of historical method. Standards of evidence and proof were temporarily put aside in a carnivalesque inversion of historiographical standards - as though the writing of history had become part of the play element in culture.13 In writing and reading about conjecture, not only in the context of the Enlightenment but also, I suggest, in that of musicological positivism, there is a sense of expansion in the boundaries of what is deemed a valid statement. The freeing exercise of personal opinion and fantasy, the transgression of standards of proof and evidence, are accom- panied by a sense not only of liberation but of the possibility of change. As Foucault remarks of the writing of history, 'we know perfectly well that we are not free to say just anything'.'4 Discourse on music's origin is a place where this is - almost - no longer true.

Despite Kant's theory of conjectural history, discourse on music's origin was the site of a methodological contradiction in Enlightenment histories. On the one hand, there was an intellectual investment in 'origin' as a site of uncontaminated truth. The point of origin for Aristotle offered 'the clearest view'.'5 And yet, on the other hand, there was no possibility of ascertaining the origins of music through the type of documentary, text- and source-critical methods cherished by eighteenth-century (and more recent) historians. There was a historiographical need to speak of origin, but one that led eighteenth-century historians to embarrassed con- sultation with ancient fabulists and poets, to conjecture, allegory, fable and second-hand quotation. In the court-room of history, writers bore witness to events of which they had no knowledge. For precisely these reasons, discourse on music's origin is of historiographical interest.

This fabulous testimony is also an untapped repository of aesthetic writing because, in the eighteenth century, the question of origin was inseparable from questions of nature and essence, beauty, ownership and pleasure. In the present century, the question of origin has been the sub- ject of a postmodern critique that has usefully undermined its hold on the history of ideas.'6 In the eighteenth century, however, to posit the origin of music was to found an identity. Sulzer wrote of the necessity of discourse on origin for an understanding of the nature of music: 'If we want to arrive at a correct conception of the nature and being of

" On the play element in culture see Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (London, 1970).

14 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Mark Sheridan Smith (London, 1972), introduction.

'5 'He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them.' Aristotle, The Politics, ed. Stephen Everson (Cambridge, 1988), 1-2.

'1 Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Smith, and Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974).

and even culminating gesture of a career in history. In this professional and intellectual context, the speculative and sometimes playful nature of the eighteenth-century discourse on origin is intellectually refreshing.

The sense of renewal that accompanied conjecture for Kant can be traced to the specific intellectual conditions under which conjecture was ventured. For conjecture was a transgressive component of Enlighten- ment historiography, temporarily relaxing the burdensome legality of historical method. Standards of evidence and proof were temporarily put aside in a carnivalesque inversion of historiographical standards - as though the writing of history had become part of the play element in culture.13 In writing and reading about conjecture, not only in the context of the Enlightenment but also, I suggest, in that of musicological positivism, there is a sense of expansion in the boundaries of what is deemed a valid statement. The freeing exercise of personal opinion and fantasy, the transgression of standards of proof and evidence, are accom- panied by a sense not only of liberation but of the possibility of change. As Foucault remarks of the writing of history, 'we know perfectly well that we are not free to say just anything'.'4 Discourse on music's origin is a place where this is - almost - no longer true.

Despite Kant's theory of conjectural history, discourse on music's origin was the site of a methodological contradiction in Enlightenment histories. On the one hand, there was an intellectual investment in 'origin' as a site of uncontaminated truth. The point of origin for Aristotle offered 'the clearest view'.'5 And yet, on the other hand, there was no possibility of ascertaining the origins of music through the type of documentary, text- and source-critical methods cherished by eighteenth-century (and more recent) historians. There was a historiographical need to speak of origin, but one that led eighteenth-century historians to embarrassed con- sultation with ancient fabulists and poets, to conjecture, allegory, fable and second-hand quotation. In the court-room of history, writers bore witness to events of which they had no knowledge. For precisely these reasons, discourse on music's origin is of historiographical interest.

This fabulous testimony is also an untapped repository of aesthetic writing because, in the eighteenth century, the question of origin was inseparable from questions of nature and essence, beauty, ownership and pleasure. In the present century, the question of origin has been the sub- ject of a postmodern critique that has usefully undermined its hold on the history of ideas.'6 In the eighteenth century, however, to posit the origin of music was to found an identity. Sulzer wrote of the necessity of discourse on origin for an understanding of the nature of music: 'If we want to arrive at a correct conception of the nature and being of

" On the play element in culture see Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (London, 1970).

14 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Mark Sheridan Smith (London, 1972), introduction.

'5 'He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them.' Aristotle, The Politics, ed. Stephen Everson (Cambridge, 1988), 1-2.

'1 Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Smith, and Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974).

and even culminating gesture of a career in history. In this professional and intellectual context, the speculative and sometimes playful nature of the eighteenth-century discourse on origin is intellectually refreshing.

The sense of renewal that accompanied conjecture for Kant can be traced to the specific intellectual conditions under which conjecture was ventured. For conjecture was a transgressive component of Enlighten- ment historiography, temporarily relaxing the burdensome legality of historical method. Standards of evidence and proof were temporarily put aside in a carnivalesque inversion of historiographical standards - as though the writing of history had become part of the play element in culture.13 In writing and reading about conjecture, not only in the context of the Enlightenment but also, I suggest, in that of musicological positivism, there is a sense of expansion in the boundaries of what is deemed a valid statement. The freeing exercise of personal opinion and fantasy, the transgression of standards of proof and evidence, are accom- panied by a sense not only of liberation but of the possibility of change. As Foucault remarks of the writing of history, 'we know perfectly well that we are not free to say just anything'.'4 Discourse on music's origin is a place where this is - almost - no longer true.

Despite Kant's theory of conjectural history, discourse on music's origin was the site of a methodological contradiction in Enlightenment histories. On the one hand, there was an intellectual investment in 'origin' as a site of uncontaminated truth. The point of origin for Aristotle offered 'the clearest view'.'5 And yet, on the other hand, there was no possibility of ascertaining the origins of music through the type of documentary, text- and source-critical methods cherished by eighteenth-century (and more recent) historians. There was a historiographical need to speak of origin, but one that led eighteenth-century historians to embarrassed con- sultation with ancient fabulists and poets, to conjecture, allegory, fable and second-hand quotation. In the court-room of history, writers bore witness to events of which they had no knowledge. For precisely these reasons, discourse on music's origin is of historiographical interest.

This fabulous testimony is also an untapped repository of aesthetic writing because, in the eighteenth century, the question of origin was inseparable from questions of nature and essence, beauty, ownership and pleasure. In the present century, the question of origin has been the sub- ject of a postmodern critique that has usefully undermined its hold on the history of ideas.'6 In the eighteenth century, however, to posit the origin of music was to found an identity. Sulzer wrote of the necessity of discourse on origin for an understanding of the nature of music: 'If we want to arrive at a correct conception of the nature and being of

" On the play element in culture see Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture (London, 1970).

14 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Mark Sheridan Smith (London, 1972), introduction.

'5 'He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them.' Aristotle, The Politics, ed. Stephen Everson (Cambridge, 1988), 1-2.

'1 Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Smith, and Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974).

5 5 5 5 5

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

this graceful art, then we must attempt to investigate its origin in nature'.'7 And yet, since the origin of music was unknowable, a rever- sal inevitably took place, in which contemporary convictions as to the nature of music informed discourse on music's origin. It is, then, the im-

possibility of knowledge about the origin of music that makes answers so revealing from the standpoint of musical aesthetics. The methodology of conjectural history as described by Kant, in which the point of origin can be extrapolated back from contemporary knowledge about the nature of the object of inquiry (be that humanity, civilization or art), underlies

eighteenth-century discussions of the origin of music, in which writers set forth cherished convictions about the nature of the art of music.

Rousseau's 'Essay on the Origin of Languages' (c. 1760) is a characteristic

example of such extrapolation. Working from the prevailing conviction that music is an imitative art, and specifically that the rhythms and intervals of melody are the imitation of the inflections and accents of

impassioned speech, Rousseau fantasizes an originating point of union of speech and song in the first impassioned cries and murmurs of

humanity.'8 And yet, in reconstructing the precise circumstances of this cry in his fable of the first meeting of a young man and woman at a foun- tain, Rousseau adds a dimension to his commentary that is lacking in more formal treatises on musical aesthetics. The first passionate accents were born of love:

In arid regions, where water could only be had from wells . . . Here the first ties between families were established; here the first meetings between the sexes took place. Young girls came to fetch water for the household, young men came to water their herds. Here eyes accustomed from childhood to always the same objects began to see sweeter ones. The heart was moved by them and, swayed by an unfamiliar attraction, it grew less savage and felt the pleasure of not being alone. Imperceptibly water came to be more needed, the cattle were thirsty more often; one arrived in haste, and left with reluc- tance. In this happy age when nothing recorded the hours, nothing required them to be counted; the only measure of time was enjoyment and boredom. Beneath old oaks, conquerors of years, spirited young people gradually forgot their ferociousness; little by little they tamed one another; in striving to make themselves understood, they learned to make themselves intelligible. Here the first festivals took place; feet skipped with joy, an eager gesture no longer proved adequate, the voice accompanied it with passionate accents, pleasure and desire merged into one and made themselves felt together. Here, finally, was the true cradle of peoples, and from the pure crystal of the fountains sprang the first fires of love.'9

In so far as Rousseau situates the original passionate cry amidst the

stirring of pleasure and desire he implicitly implicates the birth of music in the Fall, of which this fable can be read as a trope. This is not the only

17 'Wenn wir uns von dem Wesen und der wahren Natur dieser reizenden Kunst eine

richtige Vorstellung machen wollen, so miissen wir versuchen, ihren Ursprung in der Natur

auszuforschen.'Johann Georg Sulzer, Algemeine Theorie der schinen Kiinste, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Leipzig, 1779), ii, 264.

18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses together with the Replies to Critics and Essay on the Origin of Languages, ed. and trans. Victor Gourevitch

(New York, 1986), 239-95 (pp. 276-83). 19 Ibid., 271.

this graceful art, then we must attempt to investigate its origin in nature'.'7 And yet, since the origin of music was unknowable, a rever- sal inevitably took place, in which contemporary convictions as to the nature of music informed discourse on music's origin. It is, then, the im-

possibility of knowledge about the origin of music that makes answers so revealing from the standpoint of musical aesthetics. The methodology of conjectural history as described by Kant, in which the point of origin can be extrapolated back from contemporary knowledge about the nature of the object of inquiry (be that humanity, civilization or art), underlies

eighteenth-century discussions of the origin of music, in which writers set forth cherished convictions about the nature of the art of music.

Rousseau's 'Essay on the Origin of Languages' (c. 1760) is a characteristic

example of such extrapolation. Working from the prevailing conviction that music is an imitative art, and specifically that the rhythms and intervals of melody are the imitation of the inflections and accents of

impassioned speech, Rousseau fantasizes an originating point of union of speech and song in the first impassioned cries and murmurs of

humanity.'8 And yet, in reconstructing the precise circumstances of this cry in his fable of the first meeting of a young man and woman at a foun- tain, Rousseau adds a dimension to his commentary that is lacking in more formal treatises on musical aesthetics. The first passionate accents were born of love:

In arid regions, where water could only be had from wells . . . Here the first ties between families were established; here the first meetings between the sexes took place. Young girls came to fetch water for the household, young men came to water their herds. Here eyes accustomed from childhood to always the same objects began to see sweeter ones. The heart was moved by them and, swayed by an unfamiliar attraction, it grew less savage and felt the pleasure of not being alone. Imperceptibly water came to be more needed, the cattle were thirsty more often; one arrived in haste, and left with reluc- tance. In this happy age when nothing recorded the hours, nothing required them to be counted; the only measure of time was enjoyment and boredom. Beneath old oaks, conquerors of years, spirited young people gradually forgot their ferociousness; little by little they tamed one another; in striving to make themselves understood, they learned to make themselves intelligible. Here the first festivals took place; feet skipped with joy, an eager gesture no longer proved adequate, the voice accompanied it with passionate accents, pleasure and desire merged into one and made themselves felt together. Here, finally, was the true cradle of peoples, and from the pure crystal of the fountains sprang the first fires of love.'9

In so far as Rousseau situates the original passionate cry amidst the

stirring of pleasure and desire he implicitly implicates the birth of music in the Fall, of which this fable can be read as a trope. This is not the only

17 'Wenn wir uns von dem Wesen und der wahren Natur dieser reizenden Kunst eine

richtige Vorstellung machen wollen, so miissen wir versuchen, ihren Ursprung in der Natur

auszuforschen.'Johann Georg Sulzer, Algemeine Theorie der schinen Kiinste, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Leipzig, 1779), ii, 264.

18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses together with the Replies to Critics and Essay on the Origin of Languages, ed. and trans. Victor Gourevitch

(New York, 1986), 239-95 (pp. 276-83). 19 Ibid., 271.

this graceful art, then we must attempt to investigate its origin in nature'.'7 And yet, since the origin of music was unknowable, a rever- sal inevitably took place, in which contemporary convictions as to the nature of music informed discourse on music's origin. It is, then, the im-

possibility of knowledge about the origin of music that makes answers so revealing from the standpoint of musical aesthetics. The methodology of conjectural history as described by Kant, in which the point of origin can be extrapolated back from contemporary knowledge about the nature of the object of inquiry (be that humanity, civilization or art), underlies

eighteenth-century discussions of the origin of music, in which writers set forth cherished convictions about the nature of the art of music.

Rousseau's 'Essay on the Origin of Languages' (c. 1760) is a characteristic

example of such extrapolation. Working from the prevailing conviction that music is an imitative art, and specifically that the rhythms and intervals of melody are the imitation of the inflections and accents of

impassioned speech, Rousseau fantasizes an originating point of union of speech and song in the first impassioned cries and murmurs of

humanity.'8 And yet, in reconstructing the precise circumstances of this cry in his fable of the first meeting of a young man and woman at a foun- tain, Rousseau adds a dimension to his commentary that is lacking in more formal treatises on musical aesthetics. The first passionate accents were born of love:

In arid regions, where water could only be had from wells . . . Here the first ties between families were established; here the first meetings between the sexes took place. Young girls came to fetch water for the household, young men came to water their herds. Here eyes accustomed from childhood to always the same objects began to see sweeter ones. The heart was moved by them and, swayed by an unfamiliar attraction, it grew less savage and felt the pleasure of not being alone. Imperceptibly water came to be more needed, the cattle were thirsty more often; one arrived in haste, and left with reluc- tance. In this happy age when nothing recorded the hours, nothing required them to be counted; the only measure of time was enjoyment and boredom. Beneath old oaks, conquerors of years, spirited young people gradually forgot their ferociousness; little by little they tamed one another; in striving to make themselves understood, they learned to make themselves intelligible. Here the first festivals took place; feet skipped with joy, an eager gesture no longer proved adequate, the voice accompanied it with passionate accents, pleasure and desire merged into one and made themselves felt together. Here, finally, was the true cradle of peoples, and from the pure crystal of the fountains sprang the first fires of love.'9

In so far as Rousseau situates the original passionate cry amidst the

stirring of pleasure and desire he implicitly implicates the birth of music in the Fall, of which this fable can be read as a trope. This is not the only

17 'Wenn wir uns von dem Wesen und der wahren Natur dieser reizenden Kunst eine

richtige Vorstellung machen wollen, so miissen wir versuchen, ihren Ursprung in der Natur

auszuforschen.'Johann Georg Sulzer, Algemeine Theorie der schinen Kiinste, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Leipzig, 1779), ii, 264.

18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses together with the Replies to Critics and Essay on the Origin of Languages, ed. and trans. Victor Gourevitch

(New York, 1986), 239-95 (pp. 276-83). 19 Ibid., 271.

this graceful art, then we must attempt to investigate its origin in nature'.'7 And yet, since the origin of music was unknowable, a rever- sal inevitably took place, in which contemporary convictions as to the nature of music informed discourse on music's origin. It is, then, the im-

possibility of knowledge about the origin of music that makes answers so revealing from the standpoint of musical aesthetics. The methodology of conjectural history as described by Kant, in which the point of origin can be extrapolated back from contemporary knowledge about the nature of the object of inquiry (be that humanity, civilization or art), underlies

eighteenth-century discussions of the origin of music, in which writers set forth cherished convictions about the nature of the art of music.

Rousseau's 'Essay on the Origin of Languages' (c. 1760) is a characteristic

example of such extrapolation. Working from the prevailing conviction that music is an imitative art, and specifically that the rhythms and intervals of melody are the imitation of the inflections and accents of

impassioned speech, Rousseau fantasizes an originating point of union of speech and song in the first impassioned cries and murmurs of

humanity.'8 And yet, in reconstructing the precise circumstances of this cry in his fable of the first meeting of a young man and woman at a foun- tain, Rousseau adds a dimension to his commentary that is lacking in more formal treatises on musical aesthetics. The first passionate accents were born of love:

In arid regions, where water could only be had from wells . . . Here the first ties between families were established; here the first meetings between the sexes took place. Young girls came to fetch water for the household, young men came to water their herds. Here eyes accustomed from childhood to always the same objects began to see sweeter ones. The heart was moved by them and, swayed by an unfamiliar attraction, it grew less savage and felt the pleasure of not being alone. Imperceptibly water came to be more needed, the cattle were thirsty more often; one arrived in haste, and left with reluc- tance. In this happy age when nothing recorded the hours, nothing required them to be counted; the only measure of time was enjoyment and boredom. Beneath old oaks, conquerors of years, spirited young people gradually forgot their ferociousness; little by little they tamed one another; in striving to make themselves understood, they learned to make themselves intelligible. Here the first festivals took place; feet skipped with joy, an eager gesture no longer proved adequate, the voice accompanied it with passionate accents, pleasure and desire merged into one and made themselves felt together. Here, finally, was the true cradle of peoples, and from the pure crystal of the fountains sprang the first fires of love.'9

In so far as Rousseau situates the original passionate cry amidst the

stirring of pleasure and desire he implicitly implicates the birth of music in the Fall, of which this fable can be read as a trope. This is not the only

17 'Wenn wir uns von dem Wesen und der wahren Natur dieser reizenden Kunst eine

richtige Vorstellung machen wollen, so miissen wir versuchen, ihren Ursprung in der Natur

auszuforschen.'Johann Georg Sulzer, Algemeine Theorie der schinen Kiinste, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Leipzig, 1779), ii, 264.

18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses together with the Replies to Critics and Essay on the Origin of Languages, ed. and trans. Victor Gourevitch

(New York, 1986), 239-95 (pp. 276-83). 19 Ibid., 271.

this graceful art, then we must attempt to investigate its origin in nature'.'7 And yet, since the origin of music was unknowable, a rever- sal inevitably took place, in which contemporary convictions as to the nature of music informed discourse on music's origin. It is, then, the im-

possibility of knowledge about the origin of music that makes answers so revealing from the standpoint of musical aesthetics. The methodology of conjectural history as described by Kant, in which the point of origin can be extrapolated back from contemporary knowledge about the nature of the object of inquiry (be that humanity, civilization or art), underlies

eighteenth-century discussions of the origin of music, in which writers set forth cherished convictions about the nature of the art of music.

Rousseau's 'Essay on the Origin of Languages' (c. 1760) is a characteristic

example of such extrapolation. Working from the prevailing conviction that music is an imitative art, and specifically that the rhythms and intervals of melody are the imitation of the inflections and accents of

impassioned speech, Rousseau fantasizes an originating point of union of speech and song in the first impassioned cries and murmurs of

humanity.'8 And yet, in reconstructing the precise circumstances of this cry in his fable of the first meeting of a young man and woman at a foun- tain, Rousseau adds a dimension to his commentary that is lacking in more formal treatises on musical aesthetics. The first passionate accents were born of love:

In arid regions, where water could only be had from wells . . . Here the first ties between families were established; here the first meetings between the sexes took place. Young girls came to fetch water for the household, young men came to water their herds. Here eyes accustomed from childhood to always the same objects began to see sweeter ones. The heart was moved by them and, swayed by an unfamiliar attraction, it grew less savage and felt the pleasure of not being alone. Imperceptibly water came to be more needed, the cattle were thirsty more often; one arrived in haste, and left with reluc- tance. In this happy age when nothing recorded the hours, nothing required them to be counted; the only measure of time was enjoyment and boredom. Beneath old oaks, conquerors of years, spirited young people gradually forgot their ferociousness; little by little they tamed one another; in striving to make themselves understood, they learned to make themselves intelligible. Here the first festivals took place; feet skipped with joy, an eager gesture no longer proved adequate, the voice accompanied it with passionate accents, pleasure and desire merged into one and made themselves felt together. Here, finally, was the true cradle of peoples, and from the pure crystal of the fountains sprang the first fires of love.'9

In so far as Rousseau situates the original passionate cry amidst the

stirring of pleasure and desire he implicitly implicates the birth of music in the Fall, of which this fable can be read as a trope. This is not the only

17 'Wenn wir uns von dem Wesen und der wahren Natur dieser reizenden Kunst eine

richtige Vorstellung machen wollen, so miissen wir versuchen, ihren Ursprung in der Natur

auszuforschen.'Johann Georg Sulzer, Algemeine Theorie der schinen Kiinste, 2 vols. (2nd edn, Leipzig, 1779), ii, 264.

18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses together with the Replies to Critics and Essay on the Origin of Languages, ed. and trans. Victor Gourevitch

(New York, 1986), 239-95 (pp. 276-83). 19 Ibid., 271.

6 6 6 6 6

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

biblical trope in Rousseau's thoughts on the origin of music. Rousseau

appears to have taken to heart the assertion in Genesis (xi. 1-9) that at first 'the whole earth had one language and few words', but that 'the Lord scattered [the men of Shinar] over the face of the earth' and 'confused the language of all the earth'. For Rousseau, music, as passionate accent

springing from love, can ameliorate the pain of this dispersal, isolation and confusion: 'vocal signs . . . herald a being like yourself. . . and it is not possible to hear a song or a symphony without immediately telling oneself: another being endowed with sense is present'. None the less, 'sounds vanish', and are thus a perpetual reminder of the loss and absence for which they seek to make amends.20

Read primarily as a discourse on musical aesthetics, discussions of the origins of music underwent a double shift during the eighteenth century from theories based upon theology (the divine creation of the world), to the imitation of natural sounds, and finally to self-expression. These were not discrete phases in the history of ideas but tropes subject to chang- ing emphasis and relationship according to historical and national dif- ference and sometimes appearing simultaneously in a text. Accepting these shifts of emphasis, then, as only a provisional framework, the discus- sion complicates this framework by questioning the extent to which the theories were actually in disagreement with each other. After all, both humankind and the natural world were held to be part of divine creation (uniting thereby the theological with the imitative and self-expressive theories respectively). The theory of imitation, particularly, was only arguably opposed to earlier notions of music as divinely created. Rather, imitative theory opened a gap within the grand narrative of divine creation that admitted greater agency to the human subject in the found- ation of the arts and sciences - but only equivocally so, for the human subject still acted upon divine prompting and stimuli. And all three theories posited that music - in one way or another - was rooted in nature (God's creation, the natural world, humanity), rather than a wholly artificial and arbitrarily invented thing.

THE COMPOSITION OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

Eighteenth-century discourse on the origin of music was necessitated in part by the inadequacy of Genesis to provide a complete and satisfactory explanation. The only concrete remark, thatJubal 'was the father of those who play the lyre and pipe' (iv. 19), was largely accepted, being understood somewhat generally to mean thatJubal invented the art of instrumental music. Marpurg was more precise than most, stating that this occurred during the reign of Herod, in the year of the world 800 (that is, 800 years after the creation of the earth).21 Since the attribution toJubal appeared in Genesis, its acceptance was pretty much de rigueur. This was more so

2" Ibid., 287. The connection between music and loss is treated in Michel Poizat, The Angel's Cry: Beyond the Pleasure Principle in Opera, trans. Arthur Denner (Ithaca and London, 1992), passim. The connection can be traced back to myths of Orpheus, in which song, granting access to Hades, is a means to both the recovery and the repetition of Euridice's loss.

' Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung in die Geschichte und Lehrsdtze der alten und neuen Musik (Berlin, 1759), 3.

biblical trope in Rousseau's thoughts on the origin of music. Rousseau

appears to have taken to heart the assertion in Genesis (xi. 1-9) that at first 'the whole earth had one language and few words', but that 'the Lord scattered [the men of Shinar] over the face of the earth' and 'confused the language of all the earth'. For Rousseau, music, as passionate accent

springing from love, can ameliorate the pain of this dispersal, isolation and confusion: 'vocal signs . . . herald a being like yourself. . . and it is not possible to hear a song or a symphony without immediately telling oneself: another being endowed with sense is present'. None the less, 'sounds vanish', and are thus a perpetual reminder of the loss and absence for which they seek to make amends.20

Read primarily as a discourse on musical aesthetics, discussions of the origins of music underwent a double shift during the eighteenth century from theories based upon theology (the divine creation of the world), to the imitation of natural sounds, and finally to self-expression. These were not discrete phases in the history of ideas but tropes subject to chang- ing emphasis and relationship according to historical and national dif- ference and sometimes appearing simultaneously in a text. Accepting these shifts of emphasis, then, as only a provisional framework, the discus- sion complicates this framework by questioning the extent to which the theories were actually in disagreement with each other. After all, both humankind and the natural world were held to be part of divine creation (uniting thereby the theological with the imitative and self-expressive theories respectively). The theory of imitation, particularly, was only arguably opposed to earlier notions of music as divinely created. Rather, imitative theory opened a gap within the grand narrative of divine creation that admitted greater agency to the human subject in the found- ation of the arts and sciences - but only equivocally so, for the human subject still acted upon divine prompting and stimuli. And all three theories posited that music - in one way or another - was rooted in nature (God's creation, the natural world, humanity), rather than a wholly artificial and arbitrarily invented thing.

THE COMPOSITION OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

Eighteenth-century discourse on the origin of music was necessitated in part by the inadequacy of Genesis to provide a complete and satisfactory explanation. The only concrete remark, thatJubal 'was the father of those who play the lyre and pipe' (iv. 19), was largely accepted, being understood somewhat generally to mean thatJubal invented the art of instrumental music. Marpurg was more precise than most, stating that this occurred during the reign of Herod, in the year of the world 800 (that is, 800 years after the creation of the earth).21 Since the attribution toJubal appeared in Genesis, its acceptance was pretty much de rigueur. This was more so

2" Ibid., 287. The connection between music and loss is treated in Michel Poizat, The Angel's Cry: Beyond the Pleasure Principle in Opera, trans. Arthur Denner (Ithaca and London, 1992), passim. The connection can be traced back to myths of Orpheus, in which song, granting access to Hades, is a means to both the recovery and the repetition of Euridice's loss.

' Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung in die Geschichte und Lehrsdtze der alten und neuen Musik (Berlin, 1759), 3.

biblical trope in Rousseau's thoughts on the origin of music. Rousseau

appears to have taken to heart the assertion in Genesis (xi. 1-9) that at first 'the whole earth had one language and few words', but that 'the Lord scattered [the men of Shinar] over the face of the earth' and 'confused the language of all the earth'. For Rousseau, music, as passionate accent

springing from love, can ameliorate the pain of this dispersal, isolation and confusion: 'vocal signs . . . herald a being like yourself. . . and it is not possible to hear a song or a symphony without immediately telling oneself: another being endowed with sense is present'. None the less, 'sounds vanish', and are thus a perpetual reminder of the loss and absence for which they seek to make amends.20

Read primarily as a discourse on musical aesthetics, discussions of the origins of music underwent a double shift during the eighteenth century from theories based upon theology (the divine creation of the world), to the imitation of natural sounds, and finally to self-expression. These were not discrete phases in the history of ideas but tropes subject to chang- ing emphasis and relationship according to historical and national dif- ference and sometimes appearing simultaneously in a text. Accepting these shifts of emphasis, then, as only a provisional framework, the discus- sion complicates this framework by questioning the extent to which the theories were actually in disagreement with each other. After all, both humankind and the natural world were held to be part of divine creation (uniting thereby the theological with the imitative and self-expressive theories respectively). The theory of imitation, particularly, was only arguably opposed to earlier notions of music as divinely created. Rather, imitative theory opened a gap within the grand narrative of divine creation that admitted greater agency to the human subject in the found- ation of the arts and sciences - but only equivocally so, for the human subject still acted upon divine prompting and stimuli. And all three theories posited that music - in one way or another - was rooted in nature (God's creation, the natural world, humanity), rather than a wholly artificial and arbitrarily invented thing.

THE COMPOSITION OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

Eighteenth-century discourse on the origin of music was necessitated in part by the inadequacy of Genesis to provide a complete and satisfactory explanation. The only concrete remark, thatJubal 'was the father of those who play the lyre and pipe' (iv. 19), was largely accepted, being understood somewhat generally to mean thatJubal invented the art of instrumental music. Marpurg was more precise than most, stating that this occurred during the reign of Herod, in the year of the world 800 (that is, 800 years after the creation of the earth).21 Since the attribution toJubal appeared in Genesis, its acceptance was pretty much de rigueur. This was more so

2" Ibid., 287. The connection between music and loss is treated in Michel Poizat, The Angel's Cry: Beyond the Pleasure Principle in Opera, trans. Arthur Denner (Ithaca and London, 1992), passim. The connection can be traced back to myths of Orpheus, in which song, granting access to Hades, is a means to both the recovery and the repetition of Euridice's loss.

' Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung in die Geschichte und Lehrsdtze der alten und neuen Musik (Berlin, 1759), 3.

biblical trope in Rousseau's thoughts on the origin of music. Rousseau

appears to have taken to heart the assertion in Genesis (xi. 1-9) that at first 'the whole earth had one language and few words', but that 'the Lord scattered [the men of Shinar] over the face of the earth' and 'confused the language of all the earth'. For Rousseau, music, as passionate accent

springing from love, can ameliorate the pain of this dispersal, isolation and confusion: 'vocal signs . . . herald a being like yourself. . . and it is not possible to hear a song or a symphony without immediately telling oneself: another being endowed with sense is present'. None the less, 'sounds vanish', and are thus a perpetual reminder of the loss and absence for which they seek to make amends.20

Read primarily as a discourse on musical aesthetics, discussions of the origins of music underwent a double shift during the eighteenth century from theories based upon theology (the divine creation of the world), to the imitation of natural sounds, and finally to self-expression. These were not discrete phases in the history of ideas but tropes subject to chang- ing emphasis and relationship according to historical and national dif- ference and sometimes appearing simultaneously in a text. Accepting these shifts of emphasis, then, as only a provisional framework, the discus- sion complicates this framework by questioning the extent to which the theories were actually in disagreement with each other. After all, both humankind and the natural world were held to be part of divine creation (uniting thereby the theological with the imitative and self-expressive theories respectively). The theory of imitation, particularly, was only arguably opposed to earlier notions of music as divinely created. Rather, imitative theory opened a gap within the grand narrative of divine creation that admitted greater agency to the human subject in the found- ation of the arts and sciences - but only equivocally so, for the human subject still acted upon divine prompting and stimuli. And all three theories posited that music - in one way or another - was rooted in nature (God's creation, the natural world, humanity), rather than a wholly artificial and arbitrarily invented thing.

THE COMPOSITION OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

Eighteenth-century discourse on the origin of music was necessitated in part by the inadequacy of Genesis to provide a complete and satisfactory explanation. The only concrete remark, thatJubal 'was the father of those who play the lyre and pipe' (iv. 19), was largely accepted, being understood somewhat generally to mean thatJubal invented the art of instrumental music. Marpurg was more precise than most, stating that this occurred during the reign of Herod, in the year of the world 800 (that is, 800 years after the creation of the earth).21 Since the attribution toJubal appeared in Genesis, its acceptance was pretty much de rigueur. This was more so

2" Ibid., 287. The connection between music and loss is treated in Michel Poizat, The Angel's Cry: Beyond the Pleasure Principle in Opera, trans. Arthur Denner (Ithaca and London, 1992), passim. The connection can be traced back to myths of Orpheus, in which song, granting access to Hades, is a means to both the recovery and the repetition of Euridice's loss.

' Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung in die Geschichte und Lehrsdtze der alten und neuen Musik (Berlin, 1759), 3.

biblical trope in Rousseau's thoughts on the origin of music. Rousseau

appears to have taken to heart the assertion in Genesis (xi. 1-9) that at first 'the whole earth had one language and few words', but that 'the Lord scattered [the men of Shinar] over the face of the earth' and 'confused the language of all the earth'. For Rousseau, music, as passionate accent

springing from love, can ameliorate the pain of this dispersal, isolation and confusion: 'vocal signs . . . herald a being like yourself. . . and it is not possible to hear a song or a symphony without immediately telling oneself: another being endowed with sense is present'. None the less, 'sounds vanish', and are thus a perpetual reminder of the loss and absence for which they seek to make amends.20

Read primarily as a discourse on musical aesthetics, discussions of the origins of music underwent a double shift during the eighteenth century from theories based upon theology (the divine creation of the world), to the imitation of natural sounds, and finally to self-expression. These were not discrete phases in the history of ideas but tropes subject to chang- ing emphasis and relationship according to historical and national dif- ference and sometimes appearing simultaneously in a text. Accepting these shifts of emphasis, then, as only a provisional framework, the discus- sion complicates this framework by questioning the extent to which the theories were actually in disagreement with each other. After all, both humankind and the natural world were held to be part of divine creation (uniting thereby the theological with the imitative and self-expressive theories respectively). The theory of imitation, particularly, was only arguably opposed to earlier notions of music as divinely created. Rather, imitative theory opened a gap within the grand narrative of divine creation that admitted greater agency to the human subject in the found- ation of the arts and sciences - but only equivocally so, for the human subject still acted upon divine prompting and stimuli. And all three theories posited that music - in one way or another - was rooted in nature (God's creation, the natural world, humanity), rather than a wholly artificial and arbitrarily invented thing.

THE COMPOSITION OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

Eighteenth-century discourse on the origin of music was necessitated in part by the inadequacy of Genesis to provide a complete and satisfactory explanation. The only concrete remark, thatJubal 'was the father of those who play the lyre and pipe' (iv. 19), was largely accepted, being understood somewhat generally to mean thatJubal invented the art of instrumental music. Marpurg was more precise than most, stating that this occurred during the reign of Herod, in the year of the world 800 (that is, 800 years after the creation of the earth).21 Since the attribution toJubal appeared in Genesis, its acceptance was pretty much de rigueur. This was more so

2" Ibid., 287. The connection between music and loss is treated in Michel Poizat, The Angel's Cry: Beyond the Pleasure Principle in Opera, trans. Arthur Denner (Ithaca and London, 1992), passim. The connection can be traced back to myths of Orpheus, in which song, granting access to Hades, is a means to both the recovery and the repetition of Euridice's loss.

' Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung in die Geschichte und Lehrsdtze der alten und neuen Musik (Berlin, 1759), 3.

7 7 7 7 7

MATT-HEW lIEAD MATT-HEW lIEAD MATT-HEW lIEAD MATT-HEW lIEAD MATT-HEW lIEAD

in Germany than in France, where, as Thomas observes, Rousseau and Blainville developed anthropological visions of music in the earliest

phases of human civilization that set biblical authority aside (without openly refuting that authority).22

None the less, Laborde, in 1780, still upheld the biblical attribution to Jubal. Thus it was necessary to modify and interpret the claims made

by writers of classical antiquity to the discovery of music, assigning to the ancients the discovery of the science, not the practice of music. In this context, Laborde could not resist retelling the anecdote of Diodes' clumsiness in a pottery shop:

Galilei . . . adds that . . . Diodes . . . found himself in a pottery shop; he accidentally hit several vases with a baton, and observing that - according to their different sizes - they made different pitches, he applied himself to research the musical proportions.23

Laborde concluded that the invention of song may be attributed toJubal, and the invention of the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.24 Laborde's reference to song ('chant') confuses the point, however, because what was missing from Genesis was any account of the origins of vocal music. This created difficulties because writers almost invariably assumed that vocal music was more ancient than instrumental music.25

The inadequacy of Genesis to explain the origins of music was in general a stimulus to other, non-doctrinal explanations. Early in the century, however, the gap in the biblical grand narrative spurredJohann Mattheson to his own mystical-theological flight in an alchemy of Aquinas, Luther, Milton and the psalms. Mattheson began with an indignant review of the 'absurd talk [of] ancient and modern writers' on the subject, recounting

"' Downing A. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Languages: Theories from the French Enlighten- ment (Cambridge, 1995), 49. The erudite Hawkins, however, offered a philological qualifica- tion, cautioning that 'the translators of those passages of the Old Testament where the names of musical instruments occur . . . found themselves reduced to the necessity of rendering those names by such terms as would go the nearest to excite a correspondent idea in their readers: so that they would be grossly mistaken who should imagine that the organ, handled by those of whom Jubal is said to have been the father, [in] any way resembled the instrument now known among us by that name'. John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 4, col. 2.

"' 'Galilee . .. ajoute: . . . Diocles ... se trouvant dans la boutique d'un potier-de-terre, ilfrapa par hasard quelques vases avec une baguete, et observant que, suivant la difference de leur grandeur, ils rendaient des sons diffirents, il s'appliqua a rechercher les proportions musicales.' Jean Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols. (Paris, 1780), i, ch. 4, 8-9. Laborde's source was Vin- cenzo Galilei, Dialogo della musica antica et della moderna (Florence, 1581), 127. Classical writings on music were available in an anthology by Marcus Meibom, Antiquae musicae (Amsterdam, 1652), and Laborde was probably familiar with writings on Greek music by Pierre Jean Burette, pub- lished in Memoires de litterature . . . de l'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres (Paris, 1717-48). Classical anecdotes concerning music were also collected in L'abbe Bourdelot andJacques Bonnet, Histoire de la musique et de ses effets depuis son origine jusqu'd present (Paris, 1715).

4 'It is possible, however, to reconcile the different theories by attributing the division of tones - and thus the invention of song - to Jubal, and the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.' ('On peut cependant concilier ces differents systemes, en accordant la division des sons, & par consequent l'invention du chant, a Jubal, & la theorie de leurs proportions a Pythagore.') Laborde, Essai, i, 9.

` Mattheson is a rare exception. According to scripture, Mattheson argued, angels both

play instruments and sing: 'thus it is misleading to assume that song is actually older than in- strumental music' ('also faillt es weg, daB die singende Musik eigentlich und urspriinglich alter sein sollte denn die spielende'). Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), ed. Margaret Reimann (Kassel, 1954), Vorrede, III ('Ursprung des Gesanges'), 12.

in Germany than in France, where, as Thomas observes, Rousseau and Blainville developed anthropological visions of music in the earliest

phases of human civilization that set biblical authority aside (without openly refuting that authority).22

None the less, Laborde, in 1780, still upheld the biblical attribution to Jubal. Thus it was necessary to modify and interpret the claims made

by writers of classical antiquity to the discovery of music, assigning to the ancients the discovery of the science, not the practice of music. In this context, Laborde could not resist retelling the anecdote of Diodes' clumsiness in a pottery shop:

Galilei . . . adds that . . . Diodes . . . found himself in a pottery shop; he accidentally hit several vases with a baton, and observing that - according to their different sizes - they made different pitches, he applied himself to research the musical proportions.23

Laborde concluded that the invention of song may be attributed toJubal, and the invention of the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.24 Laborde's reference to song ('chant') confuses the point, however, because what was missing from Genesis was any account of the origins of vocal music. This created difficulties because writers almost invariably assumed that vocal music was more ancient than instrumental music.25

The inadequacy of Genesis to explain the origins of music was in general a stimulus to other, non-doctrinal explanations. Early in the century, however, the gap in the biblical grand narrative spurredJohann Mattheson to his own mystical-theological flight in an alchemy of Aquinas, Luther, Milton and the psalms. Mattheson began with an indignant review of the 'absurd talk [of] ancient and modern writers' on the subject, recounting

"' Downing A. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Languages: Theories from the French Enlighten- ment (Cambridge, 1995), 49. The erudite Hawkins, however, offered a philological qualifica- tion, cautioning that 'the translators of those passages of the Old Testament where the names of musical instruments occur . . . found themselves reduced to the necessity of rendering those names by such terms as would go the nearest to excite a correspondent idea in their readers: so that they would be grossly mistaken who should imagine that the organ, handled by those of whom Jubal is said to have been the father, [in] any way resembled the instrument now known among us by that name'. John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 4, col. 2.

"' 'Galilee . .. ajoute: . . . Diocles ... se trouvant dans la boutique d'un potier-de-terre, ilfrapa par hasard quelques vases avec une baguete, et observant que, suivant la difference de leur grandeur, ils rendaient des sons diffirents, il s'appliqua a rechercher les proportions musicales.' Jean Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols. (Paris, 1780), i, ch. 4, 8-9. Laborde's source was Vin- cenzo Galilei, Dialogo della musica antica et della moderna (Florence, 1581), 127. Classical writings on music were available in an anthology by Marcus Meibom, Antiquae musicae (Amsterdam, 1652), and Laborde was probably familiar with writings on Greek music by Pierre Jean Burette, pub- lished in Memoires de litterature . . . de l'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres (Paris, 1717-48). Classical anecdotes concerning music were also collected in L'abbe Bourdelot andJacques Bonnet, Histoire de la musique et de ses effets depuis son origine jusqu'd present (Paris, 1715).

4 'It is possible, however, to reconcile the different theories by attributing the division of tones - and thus the invention of song - to Jubal, and the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.' ('On peut cependant concilier ces differents systemes, en accordant la division des sons, & par consequent l'invention du chant, a Jubal, & la theorie de leurs proportions a Pythagore.') Laborde, Essai, i, 9.

` Mattheson is a rare exception. According to scripture, Mattheson argued, angels both

play instruments and sing: 'thus it is misleading to assume that song is actually older than in- strumental music' ('also faillt es weg, daB die singende Musik eigentlich und urspriinglich alter sein sollte denn die spielende'). Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), ed. Margaret Reimann (Kassel, 1954), Vorrede, III ('Ursprung des Gesanges'), 12.

in Germany than in France, where, as Thomas observes, Rousseau and Blainville developed anthropological visions of music in the earliest

phases of human civilization that set biblical authority aside (without openly refuting that authority).22

None the less, Laborde, in 1780, still upheld the biblical attribution to Jubal. Thus it was necessary to modify and interpret the claims made

by writers of classical antiquity to the discovery of music, assigning to the ancients the discovery of the science, not the practice of music. In this context, Laborde could not resist retelling the anecdote of Diodes' clumsiness in a pottery shop:

Galilei . . . adds that . . . Diodes . . . found himself in a pottery shop; he accidentally hit several vases with a baton, and observing that - according to their different sizes - they made different pitches, he applied himself to research the musical proportions.23

Laborde concluded that the invention of song may be attributed toJubal, and the invention of the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.24 Laborde's reference to song ('chant') confuses the point, however, because what was missing from Genesis was any account of the origins of vocal music. This created difficulties because writers almost invariably assumed that vocal music was more ancient than instrumental music.25

The inadequacy of Genesis to explain the origins of music was in general a stimulus to other, non-doctrinal explanations. Early in the century, however, the gap in the biblical grand narrative spurredJohann Mattheson to his own mystical-theological flight in an alchemy of Aquinas, Luther, Milton and the psalms. Mattheson began with an indignant review of the 'absurd talk [of] ancient and modern writers' on the subject, recounting

"' Downing A. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Languages: Theories from the French Enlighten- ment (Cambridge, 1995), 49. The erudite Hawkins, however, offered a philological qualifica- tion, cautioning that 'the translators of those passages of the Old Testament where the names of musical instruments occur . . . found themselves reduced to the necessity of rendering those names by such terms as would go the nearest to excite a correspondent idea in their readers: so that they would be grossly mistaken who should imagine that the organ, handled by those of whom Jubal is said to have been the father, [in] any way resembled the instrument now known among us by that name'. John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 4, col. 2.

"' 'Galilee . .. ajoute: . . . Diocles ... se trouvant dans la boutique d'un potier-de-terre, ilfrapa par hasard quelques vases avec une baguete, et observant que, suivant la difference de leur grandeur, ils rendaient des sons diffirents, il s'appliqua a rechercher les proportions musicales.' Jean Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols. (Paris, 1780), i, ch. 4, 8-9. Laborde's source was Vin- cenzo Galilei, Dialogo della musica antica et della moderna (Florence, 1581), 127. Classical writings on music were available in an anthology by Marcus Meibom, Antiquae musicae (Amsterdam, 1652), and Laborde was probably familiar with writings on Greek music by Pierre Jean Burette, pub- lished in Memoires de litterature . . . de l'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres (Paris, 1717-48). Classical anecdotes concerning music were also collected in L'abbe Bourdelot andJacques Bonnet, Histoire de la musique et de ses effets depuis son origine jusqu'd present (Paris, 1715).

4 'It is possible, however, to reconcile the different theories by attributing the division of tones - and thus the invention of song - to Jubal, and the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.' ('On peut cependant concilier ces differents systemes, en accordant la division des sons, & par consequent l'invention du chant, a Jubal, & la theorie de leurs proportions a Pythagore.') Laborde, Essai, i, 9.

` Mattheson is a rare exception. According to scripture, Mattheson argued, angels both

play instruments and sing: 'thus it is misleading to assume that song is actually older than in- strumental music' ('also faillt es weg, daB die singende Musik eigentlich und urspriinglich alter sein sollte denn die spielende'). Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), ed. Margaret Reimann (Kassel, 1954), Vorrede, III ('Ursprung des Gesanges'), 12.

in Germany than in France, where, as Thomas observes, Rousseau and Blainville developed anthropological visions of music in the earliest

phases of human civilization that set biblical authority aside (without openly refuting that authority).22

None the less, Laborde, in 1780, still upheld the biblical attribution to Jubal. Thus it was necessary to modify and interpret the claims made

by writers of classical antiquity to the discovery of music, assigning to the ancients the discovery of the science, not the practice of music. In this context, Laborde could not resist retelling the anecdote of Diodes' clumsiness in a pottery shop:

Galilei . . . adds that . . . Diodes . . . found himself in a pottery shop; he accidentally hit several vases with a baton, and observing that - according to their different sizes - they made different pitches, he applied himself to research the musical proportions.23

Laborde concluded that the invention of song may be attributed toJubal, and the invention of the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.24 Laborde's reference to song ('chant') confuses the point, however, because what was missing from Genesis was any account of the origins of vocal music. This created difficulties because writers almost invariably assumed that vocal music was more ancient than instrumental music.25

The inadequacy of Genesis to explain the origins of music was in general a stimulus to other, non-doctrinal explanations. Early in the century, however, the gap in the biblical grand narrative spurredJohann Mattheson to his own mystical-theological flight in an alchemy of Aquinas, Luther, Milton and the psalms. Mattheson began with an indignant review of the 'absurd talk [of] ancient and modern writers' on the subject, recounting

"' Downing A. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Languages: Theories from the French Enlighten- ment (Cambridge, 1995), 49. The erudite Hawkins, however, offered a philological qualifica- tion, cautioning that 'the translators of those passages of the Old Testament where the names of musical instruments occur . . . found themselves reduced to the necessity of rendering those names by such terms as would go the nearest to excite a correspondent idea in their readers: so that they would be grossly mistaken who should imagine that the organ, handled by those of whom Jubal is said to have been the father, [in] any way resembled the instrument now known among us by that name'. John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 4, col. 2.

"' 'Galilee . .. ajoute: . . . Diocles ... se trouvant dans la boutique d'un potier-de-terre, ilfrapa par hasard quelques vases avec une baguete, et observant que, suivant la difference de leur grandeur, ils rendaient des sons diffirents, il s'appliqua a rechercher les proportions musicales.' Jean Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols. (Paris, 1780), i, ch. 4, 8-9. Laborde's source was Vin- cenzo Galilei, Dialogo della musica antica et della moderna (Florence, 1581), 127. Classical writings on music were available in an anthology by Marcus Meibom, Antiquae musicae (Amsterdam, 1652), and Laborde was probably familiar with writings on Greek music by Pierre Jean Burette, pub- lished in Memoires de litterature . . . de l'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres (Paris, 1717-48). Classical anecdotes concerning music were also collected in L'abbe Bourdelot andJacques Bonnet, Histoire de la musique et de ses effets depuis son origine jusqu'd present (Paris, 1715).

4 'It is possible, however, to reconcile the different theories by attributing the division of tones - and thus the invention of song - to Jubal, and the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.' ('On peut cependant concilier ces differents systemes, en accordant la division des sons, & par consequent l'invention du chant, a Jubal, & la theorie de leurs proportions a Pythagore.') Laborde, Essai, i, 9.

` Mattheson is a rare exception. According to scripture, Mattheson argued, angels both

play instruments and sing: 'thus it is misleading to assume that song is actually older than in- strumental music' ('also faillt es weg, daB die singende Musik eigentlich und urspriinglich alter sein sollte denn die spielende'). Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), ed. Margaret Reimann (Kassel, 1954), Vorrede, III ('Ursprung des Gesanges'), 12.

in Germany than in France, where, as Thomas observes, Rousseau and Blainville developed anthropological visions of music in the earliest

phases of human civilization that set biblical authority aside (without openly refuting that authority).22

None the less, Laborde, in 1780, still upheld the biblical attribution to Jubal. Thus it was necessary to modify and interpret the claims made

by writers of classical antiquity to the discovery of music, assigning to the ancients the discovery of the science, not the practice of music. In this context, Laborde could not resist retelling the anecdote of Diodes' clumsiness in a pottery shop:

Galilei . . . adds that . . . Diodes . . . found himself in a pottery shop; he accidentally hit several vases with a baton, and observing that - according to their different sizes - they made different pitches, he applied himself to research the musical proportions.23

Laborde concluded that the invention of song may be attributed toJubal, and the invention of the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.24 Laborde's reference to song ('chant') confuses the point, however, because what was missing from Genesis was any account of the origins of vocal music. This created difficulties because writers almost invariably assumed that vocal music was more ancient than instrumental music.25

The inadequacy of Genesis to explain the origins of music was in general a stimulus to other, non-doctrinal explanations. Early in the century, however, the gap in the biblical grand narrative spurredJohann Mattheson to his own mystical-theological flight in an alchemy of Aquinas, Luther, Milton and the psalms. Mattheson began with an indignant review of the 'absurd talk [of] ancient and modern writers' on the subject, recounting

"' Downing A. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Languages: Theories from the French Enlighten- ment (Cambridge, 1995), 49. The erudite Hawkins, however, offered a philological qualifica- tion, cautioning that 'the translators of those passages of the Old Testament where the names of musical instruments occur . . . found themselves reduced to the necessity of rendering those names by such terms as would go the nearest to excite a correspondent idea in their readers: so that they would be grossly mistaken who should imagine that the organ, handled by those of whom Jubal is said to have been the father, [in] any way resembled the instrument now known among us by that name'. John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 4, col. 2.

"' 'Galilee . .. ajoute: . . . Diocles ... se trouvant dans la boutique d'un potier-de-terre, ilfrapa par hasard quelques vases avec une baguete, et observant que, suivant la difference de leur grandeur, ils rendaient des sons diffirents, il s'appliqua a rechercher les proportions musicales.' Jean Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols. (Paris, 1780), i, ch. 4, 8-9. Laborde's source was Vin- cenzo Galilei, Dialogo della musica antica et della moderna (Florence, 1581), 127. Classical writings on music were available in an anthology by Marcus Meibom, Antiquae musicae (Amsterdam, 1652), and Laborde was probably familiar with writings on Greek music by Pierre Jean Burette, pub- lished in Memoires de litterature . . . de l'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres (Paris, 1717-48). Classical anecdotes concerning music were also collected in L'abbe Bourdelot andJacques Bonnet, Histoire de la musique et de ses effets depuis son origine jusqu'd present (Paris, 1715).

4 'It is possible, however, to reconcile the different theories by attributing the division of tones - and thus the invention of song - to Jubal, and the theory of musical proportions to Pythagoras.' ('On peut cependant concilier ces differents systemes, en accordant la division des sons, & par consequent l'invention du chant, a Jubal, & la theorie de leurs proportions a Pythagore.') Laborde, Essai, i, 9.

` Mattheson is a rare exception. According to scripture, Mattheson argued, angels both

play instruments and sing: 'thus it is misleading to assume that song is actually older than in- strumental music' ('also faillt es weg, daB die singende Musik eigentlich und urspriinglich alter sein sollte denn die spielende'). Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739), ed. Margaret Reimann (Kassel, 1954), Vorrede, III ('Ursprung des Gesanges'), 12.

8 8 8 8 8

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

thereby the most fascinating of the existing theories: how Lucretius ascribed the origin of music to the birds; howJacob Friedrich Reimmann maintained that monkeys were the inventors of vocal music 'because they aped this art from the birds',26 and how 'a recent, anonymous author' attributes the invention 'of the first measured sounds' to Eve, who was driven through 'jealousy' to mimic the 'sweet singing of the birds'. The last theory once more implicated the birth of music in the Fall.7

In opposition to these 'absurdities', that morally and aesthetically con- taminated music at the moment of its origin, Mattheson proposed his own redemptive theory: Adam and Eve learnt music from the angels. Angels, Mattheson argued, were instruments of divine revelation, and

they transmitted to the first inhabitants of the earth the means through which they could sing God's praises. Mattheson's theory led to a trajec- tory of musical history at odds with that described by most subsequent writers. For Mattheson, the art of music predated and achieved its height prior to the Fall. In the 'pure and thin air' of Paradise, and with the direct

example of the angels, mortal music achieved an unmatched beauty.28 And if music began with its zenith, then it follows that the passage of time has taken us further away from this initial perfection. Even if Mattheson acknowledges that the music of the present generation, particularly that of Handel, represents an improvement, a new level of achievement, his concept of musical history differs from those later eighteenth-century writers who conceived of this history as a gradual development from barbarous taste to present perfection.

Mattheson's concept of music as a gift from God and an instrument of praise was most immediately indebted to Luther, whose writings on the place of music in the liturgy were steeped in biblical references.29 Luther's view was propounded at the beginning of the century by Andrea Werckmeister and in the anonymous mid-century Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, culled from Printz's history of 1690.30 Yet the divine origin of music in these sources is broader in conception than the Lutheran frame initially suggests. With Werckmeister, and in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, the origin of music, or harmonia as Werckmeister called it, was bound up with the all-encompassing Platonic notion of harmonia as a divine ordering principle governing all creation, the heavens, the celestial bodies and the souls of mankind. In supporting this neo-Platonic view, Werckmeister cited both biblical and astronomical authorities:

" 'Einer von diesen darff deswegen wol gar schreiben, daB die ersten Erfinder der Vocal- Musik Affen gewesen sind, weil sie dieselbe Kunst den V6geln nachgeaffet haben.' Ibid., 11, with reference to Jacob Friedrich Reimmann, Versuch einer Einleitung in die historiam literariam antediluvianam (Halle, 1708-13).

17 'Ein gantz neuer, ungenannter Verfasser scheinet beide angefuihrte Meinungen von Menschen und Vogeln solchergestalt zu vergleichen, daB er zwar die Eva, als eine Erfinderin der ersten abgemessenen Klange vorstellet, doch dabei gleichwol nicht unterlassen kann, die lieben V6glein, als anmuthige Vorganger, anzugeben, deren holdseeliges Gepfeiffe bei der Mutter des menschlichen Geschlechts eine solche Eifersucht erreget haben soil, daB sie dadurch zum Versuch ihres Kehlgens bewogen worden.' Ibid., with reference to [Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset], Discours sur I'harmonie (Paris, 1737).

28 'Je reiner und diinner die Lufft ist, je heller klingt alles.' Ibid., 13. 9 For a useful but highly repetitive introduction to Luther on music see Carl Schalk, Luther

on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St Louis, 1988). o Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

thereby the most fascinating of the existing theories: how Lucretius ascribed the origin of music to the birds; howJacob Friedrich Reimmann maintained that monkeys were the inventors of vocal music 'because they aped this art from the birds',26 and how 'a recent, anonymous author' attributes the invention 'of the first measured sounds' to Eve, who was driven through 'jealousy' to mimic the 'sweet singing of the birds'. The last theory once more implicated the birth of music in the Fall.7

In opposition to these 'absurdities', that morally and aesthetically con- taminated music at the moment of its origin, Mattheson proposed his own redemptive theory: Adam and Eve learnt music from the angels. Angels, Mattheson argued, were instruments of divine revelation, and

they transmitted to the first inhabitants of the earth the means through which they could sing God's praises. Mattheson's theory led to a trajec- tory of musical history at odds with that described by most subsequent writers. For Mattheson, the art of music predated and achieved its height prior to the Fall. In the 'pure and thin air' of Paradise, and with the direct

example of the angels, mortal music achieved an unmatched beauty.28 And if music began with its zenith, then it follows that the passage of time has taken us further away from this initial perfection. Even if Mattheson acknowledges that the music of the present generation, particularly that of Handel, represents an improvement, a new level of achievement, his concept of musical history differs from those later eighteenth-century writers who conceived of this history as a gradual development from barbarous taste to present perfection.

Mattheson's concept of music as a gift from God and an instrument of praise was most immediately indebted to Luther, whose writings on the place of music in the liturgy were steeped in biblical references.29 Luther's view was propounded at the beginning of the century by Andrea Werckmeister and in the anonymous mid-century Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, culled from Printz's history of 1690.30 Yet the divine origin of music in these sources is broader in conception than the Lutheran frame initially suggests. With Werckmeister, and in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, the origin of music, or harmonia as Werckmeister called it, was bound up with the all-encompassing Platonic notion of harmonia as a divine ordering principle governing all creation, the heavens, the celestial bodies and the souls of mankind. In supporting this neo-Platonic view, Werckmeister cited both biblical and astronomical authorities:

" 'Einer von diesen darff deswegen wol gar schreiben, daB die ersten Erfinder der Vocal- Musik Affen gewesen sind, weil sie dieselbe Kunst den V6geln nachgeaffet haben.' Ibid., 11, with reference to Jacob Friedrich Reimmann, Versuch einer Einleitung in die historiam literariam antediluvianam (Halle, 1708-13).

17 'Ein gantz neuer, ungenannter Verfasser scheinet beide angefuihrte Meinungen von Menschen und Vogeln solchergestalt zu vergleichen, daB er zwar die Eva, als eine Erfinderin der ersten abgemessenen Klange vorstellet, doch dabei gleichwol nicht unterlassen kann, die lieben V6glein, als anmuthige Vorganger, anzugeben, deren holdseeliges Gepfeiffe bei der Mutter des menschlichen Geschlechts eine solche Eifersucht erreget haben soil, daB sie dadurch zum Versuch ihres Kehlgens bewogen worden.' Ibid., with reference to [Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset], Discours sur I'harmonie (Paris, 1737).

28 'Je reiner und diinner die Lufft ist, je heller klingt alles.' Ibid., 13. 9 For a useful but highly repetitive introduction to Luther on music see Carl Schalk, Luther

on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St Louis, 1988). o Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

thereby the most fascinating of the existing theories: how Lucretius ascribed the origin of music to the birds; howJacob Friedrich Reimmann maintained that monkeys were the inventors of vocal music 'because they aped this art from the birds',26 and how 'a recent, anonymous author' attributes the invention 'of the first measured sounds' to Eve, who was driven through 'jealousy' to mimic the 'sweet singing of the birds'. The last theory once more implicated the birth of music in the Fall.7

In opposition to these 'absurdities', that morally and aesthetically con- taminated music at the moment of its origin, Mattheson proposed his own redemptive theory: Adam and Eve learnt music from the angels. Angels, Mattheson argued, were instruments of divine revelation, and

they transmitted to the first inhabitants of the earth the means through which they could sing God's praises. Mattheson's theory led to a trajec- tory of musical history at odds with that described by most subsequent writers. For Mattheson, the art of music predated and achieved its height prior to the Fall. In the 'pure and thin air' of Paradise, and with the direct

example of the angels, mortal music achieved an unmatched beauty.28 And if music began with its zenith, then it follows that the passage of time has taken us further away from this initial perfection. Even if Mattheson acknowledges that the music of the present generation, particularly that of Handel, represents an improvement, a new level of achievement, his concept of musical history differs from those later eighteenth-century writers who conceived of this history as a gradual development from barbarous taste to present perfection.

Mattheson's concept of music as a gift from God and an instrument of praise was most immediately indebted to Luther, whose writings on the place of music in the liturgy were steeped in biblical references.29 Luther's view was propounded at the beginning of the century by Andrea Werckmeister and in the anonymous mid-century Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, culled from Printz's history of 1690.30 Yet the divine origin of music in these sources is broader in conception than the Lutheran frame initially suggests. With Werckmeister, and in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, the origin of music, or harmonia as Werckmeister called it, was bound up with the all-encompassing Platonic notion of harmonia as a divine ordering principle governing all creation, the heavens, the celestial bodies and the souls of mankind. In supporting this neo-Platonic view, Werckmeister cited both biblical and astronomical authorities:

" 'Einer von diesen darff deswegen wol gar schreiben, daB die ersten Erfinder der Vocal- Musik Affen gewesen sind, weil sie dieselbe Kunst den V6geln nachgeaffet haben.' Ibid., 11, with reference to Jacob Friedrich Reimmann, Versuch einer Einleitung in die historiam literariam antediluvianam (Halle, 1708-13).

17 'Ein gantz neuer, ungenannter Verfasser scheinet beide angefuihrte Meinungen von Menschen und Vogeln solchergestalt zu vergleichen, daB er zwar die Eva, als eine Erfinderin der ersten abgemessenen Klange vorstellet, doch dabei gleichwol nicht unterlassen kann, die lieben V6glein, als anmuthige Vorganger, anzugeben, deren holdseeliges Gepfeiffe bei der Mutter des menschlichen Geschlechts eine solche Eifersucht erreget haben soil, daB sie dadurch zum Versuch ihres Kehlgens bewogen worden.' Ibid., with reference to [Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset], Discours sur I'harmonie (Paris, 1737).

28 'Je reiner und diinner die Lufft ist, je heller klingt alles.' Ibid., 13. 9 For a useful but highly repetitive introduction to Luther on music see Carl Schalk, Luther

on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St Louis, 1988). o Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

thereby the most fascinating of the existing theories: how Lucretius ascribed the origin of music to the birds; howJacob Friedrich Reimmann maintained that monkeys were the inventors of vocal music 'because they aped this art from the birds',26 and how 'a recent, anonymous author' attributes the invention 'of the first measured sounds' to Eve, who was driven through 'jealousy' to mimic the 'sweet singing of the birds'. The last theory once more implicated the birth of music in the Fall.7

In opposition to these 'absurdities', that morally and aesthetically con- taminated music at the moment of its origin, Mattheson proposed his own redemptive theory: Adam and Eve learnt music from the angels. Angels, Mattheson argued, were instruments of divine revelation, and

they transmitted to the first inhabitants of the earth the means through which they could sing God's praises. Mattheson's theory led to a trajec- tory of musical history at odds with that described by most subsequent writers. For Mattheson, the art of music predated and achieved its height prior to the Fall. In the 'pure and thin air' of Paradise, and with the direct

example of the angels, mortal music achieved an unmatched beauty.28 And if music began with its zenith, then it follows that the passage of time has taken us further away from this initial perfection. Even if Mattheson acknowledges that the music of the present generation, particularly that of Handel, represents an improvement, a new level of achievement, his concept of musical history differs from those later eighteenth-century writers who conceived of this history as a gradual development from barbarous taste to present perfection.

Mattheson's concept of music as a gift from God and an instrument of praise was most immediately indebted to Luther, whose writings on the place of music in the liturgy were steeped in biblical references.29 Luther's view was propounded at the beginning of the century by Andrea Werckmeister and in the anonymous mid-century Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, culled from Printz's history of 1690.30 Yet the divine origin of music in these sources is broader in conception than the Lutheran frame initially suggests. With Werckmeister, and in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, the origin of music, or harmonia as Werckmeister called it, was bound up with the all-encompassing Platonic notion of harmonia as a divine ordering principle governing all creation, the heavens, the celestial bodies and the souls of mankind. In supporting this neo-Platonic view, Werckmeister cited both biblical and astronomical authorities:

" 'Einer von diesen darff deswegen wol gar schreiben, daB die ersten Erfinder der Vocal- Musik Affen gewesen sind, weil sie dieselbe Kunst den V6geln nachgeaffet haben.' Ibid., 11, with reference to Jacob Friedrich Reimmann, Versuch einer Einleitung in die historiam literariam antediluvianam (Halle, 1708-13).

17 'Ein gantz neuer, ungenannter Verfasser scheinet beide angefuihrte Meinungen von Menschen und Vogeln solchergestalt zu vergleichen, daB er zwar die Eva, als eine Erfinderin der ersten abgemessenen Klange vorstellet, doch dabei gleichwol nicht unterlassen kann, die lieben V6glein, als anmuthige Vorganger, anzugeben, deren holdseeliges Gepfeiffe bei der Mutter des menschlichen Geschlechts eine solche Eifersucht erreget haben soil, daB sie dadurch zum Versuch ihres Kehlgens bewogen worden.' Ibid., with reference to [Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset], Discours sur I'harmonie (Paris, 1737).

28 'Je reiner und diinner die Lufft ist, je heller klingt alles.' Ibid., 13. 9 For a useful but highly repetitive introduction to Luther on music see Carl Schalk, Luther

on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St Louis, 1988). o Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

thereby the most fascinating of the existing theories: how Lucretius ascribed the origin of music to the birds; howJacob Friedrich Reimmann maintained that monkeys were the inventors of vocal music 'because they aped this art from the birds',26 and how 'a recent, anonymous author' attributes the invention 'of the first measured sounds' to Eve, who was driven through 'jealousy' to mimic the 'sweet singing of the birds'. The last theory once more implicated the birth of music in the Fall.7

In opposition to these 'absurdities', that morally and aesthetically con- taminated music at the moment of its origin, Mattheson proposed his own redemptive theory: Adam and Eve learnt music from the angels. Angels, Mattheson argued, were instruments of divine revelation, and

they transmitted to the first inhabitants of the earth the means through which they could sing God's praises. Mattheson's theory led to a trajec- tory of musical history at odds with that described by most subsequent writers. For Mattheson, the art of music predated and achieved its height prior to the Fall. In the 'pure and thin air' of Paradise, and with the direct

example of the angels, mortal music achieved an unmatched beauty.28 And if music began with its zenith, then it follows that the passage of time has taken us further away from this initial perfection. Even if Mattheson acknowledges that the music of the present generation, particularly that of Handel, represents an improvement, a new level of achievement, his concept of musical history differs from those later eighteenth-century writers who conceived of this history as a gradual development from barbarous taste to present perfection.

Mattheson's concept of music as a gift from God and an instrument of praise was most immediately indebted to Luther, whose writings on the place of music in the liturgy were steeped in biblical references.29 Luther's view was propounded at the beginning of the century by Andrea Werckmeister and in the anonymous mid-century Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, culled from Printz's history of 1690.30 Yet the divine origin of music in these sources is broader in conception than the Lutheran frame initially suggests. With Werckmeister, and in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, the origin of music, or harmonia as Werckmeister called it, was bound up with the all-encompassing Platonic notion of harmonia as a divine ordering principle governing all creation, the heavens, the celestial bodies and the souls of mankind. In supporting this neo-Platonic view, Werckmeister cited both biblical and astronomical authorities:

" 'Einer von diesen darff deswegen wol gar schreiben, daB die ersten Erfinder der Vocal- Musik Affen gewesen sind, weil sie dieselbe Kunst den V6geln nachgeaffet haben.' Ibid., 11, with reference to Jacob Friedrich Reimmann, Versuch einer Einleitung in die historiam literariam antediluvianam (Halle, 1708-13).

17 'Ein gantz neuer, ungenannter Verfasser scheinet beide angefuihrte Meinungen von Menschen und Vogeln solchergestalt zu vergleichen, daB er zwar die Eva, als eine Erfinderin der ersten abgemessenen Klange vorstellet, doch dabei gleichwol nicht unterlassen kann, die lieben V6glein, als anmuthige Vorganger, anzugeben, deren holdseeliges Gepfeiffe bei der Mutter des menschlichen Geschlechts eine solche Eifersucht erreget haben soil, daB sie dadurch zum Versuch ihres Kehlgens bewogen worden.' Ibid., with reference to [Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset], Discours sur I'harmonie (Paris, 1737).

28 'Je reiner und diinner die Lufft ist, je heller klingt alles.' Ibid., 13. 9 For a useful but highly repetitive introduction to Luther on music see Carl Schalk, Luther

on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St Louis, 1988). o Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

9 9 9 9 9

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

The main points of the following treatise are these: (1) that God the Almighty Creator is also the inventor of music, since he ordered the stars and their movements according to musical proportions, as the Holy Book reports [in] Job xxxviii. 7. And, following the demonstrations of the exemplary Keppler, astronomy is also able to testify to this. (2) God has also ordered almost all the volumes of the Holy Bible according to musical proportions. (3) The soul of man himself, and his limbs, were created in harmonic proportion. (4) The ages, according to the chronology of the bible, were also certainly ordered by harmonic numbers, as is to be seen particularly withJean d'Espange. From all of this we see that God himself is the inventor of music, and has a great pleasure in it.31

The dual meaning of harmonia as both the art of music and the mathematical proportions governing creation permits, in this passage, a reversal to take place that stands the question of music's origin on its head: the creation of the universe is itself deemed a musical act, and the

question of music's origin within a created universe is thereby obviated. Creation as a musical act is hinted at in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, through the metaphors of composition and harmony that describe the creation of the universe:

The creator of heaven and earth should, however, be called the inventor of music, not only because he composed the wonderful harmony of heaven and earth; but also because he skilfully created the air, which receives and embodies sound, and ears to perceive and thus to judge it.32

And yet this passage also opens a gap within theological and creationist theories, for God is seen not so much to have invented music as to have provided the circumstances, the conditions of possibility for people to make the discovery for themselves. Such a shift from God- to person- centred explanation of the origins of music is the most conspicuous feature of later eighteenth-century writings. (Indeed, the shift is so con- spicuous that one should inquire to what extent the religiosity of earlier theories might be retained in this ostensibly secular discourse.) Two strands in the person-centred theory can be distinguished. The first, a minor strand, derived in part from classical sources, posited that the earliest inhabitants of the earth found music in the sounds of the natural world. The second, which emerged as the prevailing explanation in the later part of the century, was that music was discovered in the human

3' 'Die vornehmsten Contenta aber sind folgende. (1) Wie Gott der Allmachtige Schopffer der Music Autorselber ist/ da Er in der Erschopffung/ die Sternen/ und dero Lauf in die Musicalischen Proportiones geordnet/ wie die Heil. Schrifft meldetJob. 38. 7. Und nach denen demonstrationibus des vortreflichen Keppleri, die Astronomi bezeugen konnen. (2) Hat auch Gott fast alle Gebaude in der Heil. Schrifft nach denen Musicalischen Proportionen zu bauen befohlen. (3) Den Menschen selber nach seiner Seel/ und auserlichen Gliedern harmonisch erschaffen. (4) Sind auch allerdinges die Zeiten nach der Biblischen Chronologia in harmonische Zahlen geord- net/ wie insonderheit bey den Jean d'Espange zu sehen. Aus diesen allen sehen wir/ daB Gott selber der Anfinger der Music ist/ und an derselben einen Wohlgefallen habe.' Andrea Werck- meister, Musicalische Paradoxal-Discourse (Quedlinburg, 1707), 4.

' 'Es soil aber der Schopffer Himmels und der Erden billig der Urheber der Music genen- net werden, nicht nur, weil er die wunderbare Zusammenstimmung Himmels und der Erden componiret; sondern auch, weil er der die Lufft, den Schall zu empfangen und fort zu pflantzen, und die Ohren, denselben zu vernehmen, und davon zu urtheilen, geschickt und bequem erschaffen.' Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, 13-14.

The main points of the following treatise are these: (1) that God the Almighty Creator is also the inventor of music, since he ordered the stars and their movements according to musical proportions, as the Holy Book reports [in] Job xxxviii. 7. And, following the demonstrations of the exemplary Keppler, astronomy is also able to testify to this. (2) God has also ordered almost all the volumes of the Holy Bible according to musical proportions. (3) The soul of man himself, and his limbs, were created in harmonic proportion. (4) The ages, according to the chronology of the bible, were also certainly ordered by harmonic numbers, as is to be seen particularly withJean d'Espange. From all of this we see that God himself is the inventor of music, and has a great pleasure in it.31

The dual meaning of harmonia as both the art of music and the mathematical proportions governing creation permits, in this passage, a reversal to take place that stands the question of music's origin on its head: the creation of the universe is itself deemed a musical act, and the

question of music's origin within a created universe is thereby obviated. Creation as a musical act is hinted at in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, through the metaphors of composition and harmony that describe the creation of the universe:

The creator of heaven and earth should, however, be called the inventor of music, not only because he composed the wonderful harmony of heaven and earth; but also because he skilfully created the air, which receives and embodies sound, and ears to perceive and thus to judge it.32

And yet this passage also opens a gap within theological and creationist theories, for God is seen not so much to have invented music as to have provided the circumstances, the conditions of possibility for people to make the discovery for themselves. Such a shift from God- to person- centred explanation of the origins of music is the most conspicuous feature of later eighteenth-century writings. (Indeed, the shift is so con- spicuous that one should inquire to what extent the religiosity of earlier theories might be retained in this ostensibly secular discourse.) Two strands in the person-centred theory can be distinguished. The first, a minor strand, derived in part from classical sources, posited that the earliest inhabitants of the earth found music in the sounds of the natural world. The second, which emerged as the prevailing explanation in the later part of the century, was that music was discovered in the human

3' 'Die vornehmsten Contenta aber sind folgende. (1) Wie Gott der Allmachtige Schopffer der Music Autorselber ist/ da Er in der Erschopffung/ die Sternen/ und dero Lauf in die Musicalischen Proportiones geordnet/ wie die Heil. Schrifft meldetJob. 38. 7. Und nach denen demonstrationibus des vortreflichen Keppleri, die Astronomi bezeugen konnen. (2) Hat auch Gott fast alle Gebaude in der Heil. Schrifft nach denen Musicalischen Proportionen zu bauen befohlen. (3) Den Menschen selber nach seiner Seel/ und auserlichen Gliedern harmonisch erschaffen. (4) Sind auch allerdinges die Zeiten nach der Biblischen Chronologia in harmonische Zahlen geord- net/ wie insonderheit bey den Jean d'Espange zu sehen. Aus diesen allen sehen wir/ daB Gott selber der Anfinger der Music ist/ und an derselben einen Wohlgefallen habe.' Andrea Werck- meister, Musicalische Paradoxal-Discourse (Quedlinburg, 1707), 4.

' 'Es soil aber der Schopffer Himmels und der Erden billig der Urheber der Music genen- net werden, nicht nur, weil er die wunderbare Zusammenstimmung Himmels und der Erden componiret; sondern auch, weil er der die Lufft, den Schall zu empfangen und fort zu pflantzen, und die Ohren, denselben zu vernehmen, und davon zu urtheilen, geschickt und bequem erschaffen.' Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, 13-14.

The main points of the following treatise are these: (1) that God the Almighty Creator is also the inventor of music, since he ordered the stars and their movements according to musical proportions, as the Holy Book reports [in] Job xxxviii. 7. And, following the demonstrations of the exemplary Keppler, astronomy is also able to testify to this. (2) God has also ordered almost all the volumes of the Holy Bible according to musical proportions. (3) The soul of man himself, and his limbs, were created in harmonic proportion. (4) The ages, according to the chronology of the bible, were also certainly ordered by harmonic numbers, as is to be seen particularly withJean d'Espange. From all of this we see that God himself is the inventor of music, and has a great pleasure in it.31

The dual meaning of harmonia as both the art of music and the mathematical proportions governing creation permits, in this passage, a reversal to take place that stands the question of music's origin on its head: the creation of the universe is itself deemed a musical act, and the

question of music's origin within a created universe is thereby obviated. Creation as a musical act is hinted at in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, through the metaphors of composition and harmony that describe the creation of the universe:

The creator of heaven and earth should, however, be called the inventor of music, not only because he composed the wonderful harmony of heaven and earth; but also because he skilfully created the air, which receives and embodies sound, and ears to perceive and thus to judge it.32

And yet this passage also opens a gap within theological and creationist theories, for God is seen not so much to have invented music as to have provided the circumstances, the conditions of possibility for people to make the discovery for themselves. Such a shift from God- to person- centred explanation of the origins of music is the most conspicuous feature of later eighteenth-century writings. (Indeed, the shift is so con- spicuous that one should inquire to what extent the religiosity of earlier theories might be retained in this ostensibly secular discourse.) Two strands in the person-centred theory can be distinguished. The first, a minor strand, derived in part from classical sources, posited that the earliest inhabitants of the earth found music in the sounds of the natural world. The second, which emerged as the prevailing explanation in the later part of the century, was that music was discovered in the human

3' 'Die vornehmsten Contenta aber sind folgende. (1) Wie Gott der Allmachtige Schopffer der Music Autorselber ist/ da Er in der Erschopffung/ die Sternen/ und dero Lauf in die Musicalischen Proportiones geordnet/ wie die Heil. Schrifft meldetJob. 38. 7. Und nach denen demonstrationibus des vortreflichen Keppleri, die Astronomi bezeugen konnen. (2) Hat auch Gott fast alle Gebaude in der Heil. Schrifft nach denen Musicalischen Proportionen zu bauen befohlen. (3) Den Menschen selber nach seiner Seel/ und auserlichen Gliedern harmonisch erschaffen. (4) Sind auch allerdinges die Zeiten nach der Biblischen Chronologia in harmonische Zahlen geord- net/ wie insonderheit bey den Jean d'Espange zu sehen. Aus diesen allen sehen wir/ daB Gott selber der Anfinger der Music ist/ und an derselben einen Wohlgefallen habe.' Andrea Werck- meister, Musicalische Paradoxal-Discourse (Quedlinburg, 1707), 4.

' 'Es soil aber der Schopffer Himmels und der Erden billig der Urheber der Music genen- net werden, nicht nur, weil er die wunderbare Zusammenstimmung Himmels und der Erden componiret; sondern auch, weil er der die Lufft, den Schall zu empfangen und fort zu pflantzen, und die Ohren, denselben zu vernehmen, und davon zu urtheilen, geschickt und bequem erschaffen.' Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, 13-14.

The main points of the following treatise are these: (1) that God the Almighty Creator is also the inventor of music, since he ordered the stars and their movements according to musical proportions, as the Holy Book reports [in] Job xxxviii. 7. And, following the demonstrations of the exemplary Keppler, astronomy is also able to testify to this. (2) God has also ordered almost all the volumes of the Holy Bible according to musical proportions. (3) The soul of man himself, and his limbs, were created in harmonic proportion. (4) The ages, according to the chronology of the bible, were also certainly ordered by harmonic numbers, as is to be seen particularly withJean d'Espange. From all of this we see that God himself is the inventor of music, and has a great pleasure in it.31

The dual meaning of harmonia as both the art of music and the mathematical proportions governing creation permits, in this passage, a reversal to take place that stands the question of music's origin on its head: the creation of the universe is itself deemed a musical act, and the

question of music's origin within a created universe is thereby obviated. Creation as a musical act is hinted at in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, through the metaphors of composition and harmony that describe the creation of the universe:

The creator of heaven and earth should, however, be called the inventor of music, not only because he composed the wonderful harmony of heaven and earth; but also because he skilfully created the air, which receives and embodies sound, and ears to perceive and thus to judge it.32

And yet this passage also opens a gap within theological and creationist theories, for God is seen not so much to have invented music as to have provided the circumstances, the conditions of possibility for people to make the discovery for themselves. Such a shift from God- to person- centred explanation of the origins of music is the most conspicuous feature of later eighteenth-century writings. (Indeed, the shift is so con- spicuous that one should inquire to what extent the religiosity of earlier theories might be retained in this ostensibly secular discourse.) Two strands in the person-centred theory can be distinguished. The first, a minor strand, derived in part from classical sources, posited that the earliest inhabitants of the earth found music in the sounds of the natural world. The second, which emerged as the prevailing explanation in the later part of the century, was that music was discovered in the human

3' 'Die vornehmsten Contenta aber sind folgende. (1) Wie Gott der Allmachtige Schopffer der Music Autorselber ist/ da Er in der Erschopffung/ die Sternen/ und dero Lauf in die Musicalischen Proportiones geordnet/ wie die Heil. Schrifft meldetJob. 38. 7. Und nach denen demonstrationibus des vortreflichen Keppleri, die Astronomi bezeugen konnen. (2) Hat auch Gott fast alle Gebaude in der Heil. Schrifft nach denen Musicalischen Proportionen zu bauen befohlen. (3) Den Menschen selber nach seiner Seel/ und auserlichen Gliedern harmonisch erschaffen. (4) Sind auch allerdinges die Zeiten nach der Biblischen Chronologia in harmonische Zahlen geord- net/ wie insonderheit bey den Jean d'Espange zu sehen. Aus diesen allen sehen wir/ daB Gott selber der Anfinger der Music ist/ und an derselben einen Wohlgefallen habe.' Andrea Werck- meister, Musicalische Paradoxal-Discourse (Quedlinburg, 1707), 4.

' 'Es soil aber der Schopffer Himmels und der Erden billig der Urheber der Music genen- net werden, nicht nur, weil er die wunderbare Zusammenstimmung Himmels und der Erden componiret; sondern auch, weil er der die Lufft, den Schall zu empfangen und fort zu pflantzen, und die Ohren, denselben zu vernehmen, und davon zu urtheilen, geschickt und bequem erschaffen.' Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, 13-14.

The main points of the following treatise are these: (1) that God the Almighty Creator is also the inventor of music, since he ordered the stars and their movements according to musical proportions, as the Holy Book reports [in] Job xxxviii. 7. And, following the demonstrations of the exemplary Keppler, astronomy is also able to testify to this. (2) God has also ordered almost all the volumes of the Holy Bible according to musical proportions. (3) The soul of man himself, and his limbs, were created in harmonic proportion. (4) The ages, according to the chronology of the bible, were also certainly ordered by harmonic numbers, as is to be seen particularly withJean d'Espange. From all of this we see that God himself is the inventor of music, and has a great pleasure in it.31

The dual meaning of harmonia as both the art of music and the mathematical proportions governing creation permits, in this passage, a reversal to take place that stands the question of music's origin on its head: the creation of the universe is itself deemed a musical act, and the

question of music's origin within a created universe is thereby obviated. Creation as a musical act is hinted at in the Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, through the metaphors of composition and harmony that describe the creation of the universe:

The creator of heaven and earth should, however, be called the inventor of music, not only because he composed the wonderful harmony of heaven and earth; but also because he skilfully created the air, which receives and embodies sound, and ears to perceive and thus to judge it.32

And yet this passage also opens a gap within theological and creationist theories, for God is seen not so much to have invented music as to have provided the circumstances, the conditions of possibility for people to make the discovery for themselves. Such a shift from God- to person- centred explanation of the origins of music is the most conspicuous feature of later eighteenth-century writings. (Indeed, the shift is so con- spicuous that one should inquire to what extent the religiosity of earlier theories might be retained in this ostensibly secular discourse.) Two strands in the person-centred theory can be distinguished. The first, a minor strand, derived in part from classical sources, posited that the earliest inhabitants of the earth found music in the sounds of the natural world. The second, which emerged as the prevailing explanation in the later part of the century, was that music was discovered in the human

3' 'Die vornehmsten Contenta aber sind folgende. (1) Wie Gott der Allmachtige Schopffer der Music Autorselber ist/ da Er in der Erschopffung/ die Sternen/ und dero Lauf in die Musicalischen Proportiones geordnet/ wie die Heil. Schrifft meldetJob. 38. 7. Und nach denen demonstrationibus des vortreflichen Keppleri, die Astronomi bezeugen konnen. (2) Hat auch Gott fast alle Gebaude in der Heil. Schrifft nach denen Musicalischen Proportionen zu bauen befohlen. (3) Den Menschen selber nach seiner Seel/ und auserlichen Gliedern harmonisch erschaffen. (4) Sind auch allerdinges die Zeiten nach der Biblischen Chronologia in harmonische Zahlen geord- net/ wie insonderheit bey den Jean d'Espange zu sehen. Aus diesen allen sehen wir/ daB Gott selber der Anfinger der Music ist/ und an derselben einen Wohlgefallen habe.' Andrea Werck- meister, Musicalische Paradoxal-Discourse (Quedlinburg, 1707), 4.

' 'Es soil aber der Schopffer Himmels und der Erden billig der Urheber der Music genen- net werden, nicht nur, weil er die wunderbare Zusammenstimmung Himmels und der Erden componiret; sondern auch, weil er der die Lufft, den Schall zu empfangen und fort zu pflantzen, und die Ohren, denselben zu vernehmen, und davon zu urtheilen, geschickt und bequem erschaffen.' Anon., Kurtzgefafites musicalisches Lexicon, 13-14.

10 10 10 10 10

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

heart as an innate language of emotion. The aesthetic implications of these two perspectives were radically different.

CALIBAN'S DREAM

If people found music all around them in the ancient, natural world, how was that world envisioned in the eighteenth century? Certainly, the distant past was not so distant as we think it now; the events described in Genesis were generally believed to have occurred in the year 4004 BC: 'Heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together in the same instant... this took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C. at nine o'clock in the morning.'33 One strategy when faced with an unknowable origin is to be fabulously precise.

In climate and typology, the distant past was a rustic idyll, more like the Provenqal countryside as Marie Antoinette imagined it than the harsh and frigid 'stone age' of modern children's encyclopedias. The eighteenth century was a time before 'prehistory'. Of stone, bronze and iron ages nothing was known. The great glaciers of the receding ice age were still to appear on the horizon of human fancy. Existence was not eked out with flint and axe and bone, but sustained through farming and husbandry. And yet there was toil. Toil distinguished man's early society from that of the first couple in the Garden of Eden. In paradise man lived without pain or want: God provided. But as punishment for eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, God cursed the ground and declared

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis iii. 17-19)

So man was set to labour for his sustenance. And woman brought forth children in pain.

Through music, people sought pleasure and diversion in their post- lapsarian existence. For Blainville, music was part of a rhythm of toil and relaxation: 'The attraction of pleasure first gave man the idea of music, a pleasure that song and dance developed. A few country airs suf- ficed to charm the leisure of their rustic life.'34 Hawkins distinguished between the necessities and diversions of early society, seeing music as an operation of the pleasure principle:

The desire of the conveniences, the comforts, the pleasures of life, is a prin- ciple little less active than that which leads us to provide for its wants; and perhaps it might be even before they had learned 'to go down to the sea in

33 Cited in Glyn Daniel, The Idea of Prehistory (Harmondsworth, 1964), 19. The remark was made in John Lightfoot, A Few, and New, Observations upon the Book of Genesis (London, 1642). Not all authorities agreed upon the exact time of day at which the world was created, but there was consensus on the date of 4004 BC.

34 'L'attrait du plaisir donna aux hommes la premiere idee de Musique; idee que le Chant et la Danse acheverent de developper.... Quelques airs champetres durent suffire a charmer les loisirs de leur vie rustique.' Charles Blainville, Histoiregeneral critique et philologique de la musique (Paris, 1767), v.

heart as an innate language of emotion. The aesthetic implications of these two perspectives were radically different.

CALIBAN'S DREAM

If people found music all around them in the ancient, natural world, how was that world envisioned in the eighteenth century? Certainly, the distant past was not so distant as we think it now; the events described in Genesis were generally believed to have occurred in the year 4004 BC: 'Heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together in the same instant... this took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C. at nine o'clock in the morning.'33 One strategy when faced with an unknowable origin is to be fabulously precise.

In climate and typology, the distant past was a rustic idyll, more like the Provenqal countryside as Marie Antoinette imagined it than the harsh and frigid 'stone age' of modern children's encyclopedias. The eighteenth century was a time before 'prehistory'. Of stone, bronze and iron ages nothing was known. The great glaciers of the receding ice age were still to appear on the horizon of human fancy. Existence was not eked out with flint and axe and bone, but sustained through farming and husbandry. And yet there was toil. Toil distinguished man's early society from that of the first couple in the Garden of Eden. In paradise man lived without pain or want: God provided. But as punishment for eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, God cursed the ground and declared

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis iii. 17-19)

So man was set to labour for his sustenance. And woman brought forth children in pain.

Through music, people sought pleasure and diversion in their post- lapsarian existence. For Blainville, music was part of a rhythm of toil and relaxation: 'The attraction of pleasure first gave man the idea of music, a pleasure that song and dance developed. A few country airs suf- ficed to charm the leisure of their rustic life.'34 Hawkins distinguished between the necessities and diversions of early society, seeing music as an operation of the pleasure principle:

The desire of the conveniences, the comforts, the pleasures of life, is a prin- ciple little less active than that which leads us to provide for its wants; and perhaps it might be even before they had learned 'to go down to the sea in

33 Cited in Glyn Daniel, The Idea of Prehistory (Harmondsworth, 1964), 19. The remark was made in John Lightfoot, A Few, and New, Observations upon the Book of Genesis (London, 1642). Not all authorities agreed upon the exact time of day at which the world was created, but there was consensus on the date of 4004 BC.

34 'L'attrait du plaisir donna aux hommes la premiere idee de Musique; idee que le Chant et la Danse acheverent de developper.... Quelques airs champetres durent suffire a charmer les loisirs de leur vie rustique.' Charles Blainville, Histoiregeneral critique et philologique de la musique (Paris, 1767), v.

heart as an innate language of emotion. The aesthetic implications of these two perspectives were radically different.

CALIBAN'S DREAM

If people found music all around them in the ancient, natural world, how was that world envisioned in the eighteenth century? Certainly, the distant past was not so distant as we think it now; the events described in Genesis were generally believed to have occurred in the year 4004 BC: 'Heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together in the same instant... this took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C. at nine o'clock in the morning.'33 One strategy when faced with an unknowable origin is to be fabulously precise.

In climate and typology, the distant past was a rustic idyll, more like the Provenqal countryside as Marie Antoinette imagined it than the harsh and frigid 'stone age' of modern children's encyclopedias. The eighteenth century was a time before 'prehistory'. Of stone, bronze and iron ages nothing was known. The great glaciers of the receding ice age were still to appear on the horizon of human fancy. Existence was not eked out with flint and axe and bone, but sustained through farming and husbandry. And yet there was toil. Toil distinguished man's early society from that of the first couple in the Garden of Eden. In paradise man lived without pain or want: God provided. But as punishment for eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, God cursed the ground and declared

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis iii. 17-19)

So man was set to labour for his sustenance. And woman brought forth children in pain.

Through music, people sought pleasure and diversion in their post- lapsarian existence. For Blainville, music was part of a rhythm of toil and relaxation: 'The attraction of pleasure first gave man the idea of music, a pleasure that song and dance developed. A few country airs suf- ficed to charm the leisure of their rustic life.'34 Hawkins distinguished between the necessities and diversions of early society, seeing music as an operation of the pleasure principle:

The desire of the conveniences, the comforts, the pleasures of life, is a prin- ciple little less active than that which leads us to provide for its wants; and perhaps it might be even before they had learned 'to go down to the sea in

33 Cited in Glyn Daniel, The Idea of Prehistory (Harmondsworth, 1964), 19. The remark was made in John Lightfoot, A Few, and New, Observations upon the Book of Genesis (London, 1642). Not all authorities agreed upon the exact time of day at which the world was created, but there was consensus on the date of 4004 BC.

34 'L'attrait du plaisir donna aux hommes la premiere idee de Musique; idee que le Chant et la Danse acheverent de developper.... Quelques airs champetres durent suffire a charmer les loisirs de leur vie rustique.' Charles Blainville, Histoiregeneral critique et philologique de la musique (Paris, 1767), v.

heart as an innate language of emotion. The aesthetic implications of these two perspectives were radically different.

CALIBAN'S DREAM

If people found music all around them in the ancient, natural world, how was that world envisioned in the eighteenth century? Certainly, the distant past was not so distant as we think it now; the events described in Genesis were generally believed to have occurred in the year 4004 BC: 'Heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together in the same instant... this took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C. at nine o'clock in the morning.'33 One strategy when faced with an unknowable origin is to be fabulously precise.

In climate and typology, the distant past was a rustic idyll, more like the Provenqal countryside as Marie Antoinette imagined it than the harsh and frigid 'stone age' of modern children's encyclopedias. The eighteenth century was a time before 'prehistory'. Of stone, bronze and iron ages nothing was known. The great glaciers of the receding ice age were still to appear on the horizon of human fancy. Existence was not eked out with flint and axe and bone, but sustained through farming and husbandry. And yet there was toil. Toil distinguished man's early society from that of the first couple in the Garden of Eden. In paradise man lived without pain or want: God provided. But as punishment for eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, God cursed the ground and declared

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis iii. 17-19)

So man was set to labour for his sustenance. And woman brought forth children in pain.

Through music, people sought pleasure and diversion in their post- lapsarian existence. For Blainville, music was part of a rhythm of toil and relaxation: 'The attraction of pleasure first gave man the idea of music, a pleasure that song and dance developed. A few country airs suf- ficed to charm the leisure of their rustic life.'34 Hawkins distinguished between the necessities and diversions of early society, seeing music as an operation of the pleasure principle:

The desire of the conveniences, the comforts, the pleasures of life, is a prin- ciple little less active than that which leads us to provide for its wants; and perhaps it might be even before they had learned 'to go down to the sea in

33 Cited in Glyn Daniel, The Idea of Prehistory (Harmondsworth, 1964), 19. The remark was made in John Lightfoot, A Few, and New, Observations upon the Book of Genesis (London, 1642). Not all authorities agreed upon the exact time of day at which the world was created, but there was consensus on the date of 4004 BC.

34 'L'attrait du plaisir donna aux hommes la premiere idee de Musique; idee que le Chant et la Danse acheverent de developper.... Quelques airs champetres durent suffire a charmer les loisirs de leur vie rustique.' Charles Blainville, Histoiregeneral critique et philologique de la musique (Paris, 1767), v.

heart as an innate language of emotion. The aesthetic implications of these two perspectives were radically different.

CALIBAN'S DREAM

If people found music all around them in the ancient, natural world, how was that world envisioned in the eighteenth century? Certainly, the distant past was not so distant as we think it now; the events described in Genesis were generally believed to have occurred in the year 4004 BC: 'Heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together in the same instant... this took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C. at nine o'clock in the morning.'33 One strategy when faced with an unknowable origin is to be fabulously precise.

In climate and typology, the distant past was a rustic idyll, more like the Provenqal countryside as Marie Antoinette imagined it than the harsh and frigid 'stone age' of modern children's encyclopedias. The eighteenth century was a time before 'prehistory'. Of stone, bronze and iron ages nothing was known. The great glaciers of the receding ice age were still to appear on the horizon of human fancy. Existence was not eked out with flint and axe and bone, but sustained through farming and husbandry. And yet there was toil. Toil distinguished man's early society from that of the first couple in the Garden of Eden. In paradise man lived without pain or want: God provided. But as punishment for eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, God cursed the ground and declared

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis iii. 17-19)

So man was set to labour for his sustenance. And woman brought forth children in pain.

Through music, people sought pleasure and diversion in their post- lapsarian existence. For Blainville, music was part of a rhythm of toil and relaxation: 'The attraction of pleasure first gave man the idea of music, a pleasure that song and dance developed. A few country airs suf- ficed to charm the leisure of their rustic life.'34 Hawkins distinguished between the necessities and diversions of early society, seeing music as an operation of the pleasure principle:

The desire of the conveniences, the comforts, the pleasures of life, is a prin- ciple little less active than that which leads us to provide for its wants; and perhaps it might be even before they had learned 'to go down to the sea in

33 Cited in Glyn Daniel, The Idea of Prehistory (Harmondsworth, 1964), 19. The remark was made in John Lightfoot, A Few, and New, Observations upon the Book of Genesis (London, 1642). Not all authorities agreed upon the exact time of day at which the world was created, but there was consensus on the date of 4004 BC.

34 'L'attrait du plaisir donna aux hommes la premiere idee de Musique; idee que le Chant et la Danse acheverent de developper.... Quelques airs champetres durent suffire a charmer les loisirs de leur vie rustique.' Charles Blainville, Histoiregeneral critique et philologique de la musique (Paris, 1767), v.

11 11 11 11 11

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

ships' that men began to 'handle the harp and organ', which it cannot be sup- posed they could do to any other delightful purpose, without some knowledge of those harmonical relations and coincidences of sound, which are the essence of the art.35

Both writers ascribed a role to music in early society that was informed

by its place in their own culture. 'Music for a while', wrote Dryden, 'shall all your cares beguile.'36 Hawkins and Blainville projected into the dis- tant past the fantasies of leisured Europeans. Their discussions of origin were paradoxically a means of denying the difference between 'now' and 'then', a means of making history a grand continuity.

But from where did people receive the inspiration and stimulus for the invention of music? Hawkins, glossing Kircher, answered that mankind found music everywhere around them in nature:

The voices of animals, the whistling of the winds, the fall of waters, the con- cussion of bodies of various kinds, not to mention the melody of birds, as they contain in them the rudiments of harmony, may easily be supposed to have furnished the minds of intelligent creatures with such ideas of sound, as time, and the accumulated observation of succeeding ages, could not fail to improve into a system.37

'Lucretius', Hawkins reports in a footnote, and without committing himself, 'supposes that mankind took their first notions of music from the singing of birds':

Thro' all the woods they heard the charming noise Of chirping birds, and try'd to frame their voice And imitate. Thus birds instructed man, And taught them songs before their art began; And whilst soft evening gales blew o'er the plains, And shook the sounding reeds, they taught the swains, And thus the pipe was fram'd and tuneful reed.38

The Christian church appropriated this 'pagan' notion that music was learnt from the birds; the story of the white dove, messenger of God, who dictated Gregorian chant to St Gregory, is the best-known example. Less well known, but more pertinent to eighteenth-century German

writers, is Luther's poetic introduction toJohann Walter's Glory and Praise

of the Laudable Art of Music (1538). Here the nightingale, described as a 'mistress' of musica, is said to sing in praise of God, the creator of her

song.39 5 Hawkins, A General History, 2, cols. 1-2.

Dryden's lyric 'Music for a while', from the tragedy Oedipus, was set to music by Henry Purcell in 1692, from which it is cited here.

"7 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2. Hawkins may have known Kircher either in the

original Latin or in German translation, the latter consulted here. See Athanasius Kircher,

Philosophischer Extract und Auszug aus dess welt-beriihmten teutschenJesuiten Athanasii Kircheri von Fulda

Musurgia universali, ed. and trans. Andrea Hirschen (Schwabisch-Hall, 1662; repr. Kassel, 1988), 67-71.

1 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note. Hawkins cites Lucretius in the translation by Thomas Creech, T. Lucretius Carus, the Epicurean Philosopher, his Six Books De Natura Rerum Done into English Verse, with Notes (Oxford, 1682) - the volume went through many reprints and editions in the eighteenth century.

'9 Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, liii: Liturgy and Hymns (Philadelphia, 1965), 320.

ships' that men began to 'handle the harp and organ', which it cannot be sup- posed they could do to any other delightful purpose, without some knowledge of those harmonical relations and coincidences of sound, which are the essence of the art.35

Both writers ascribed a role to music in early society that was informed

by its place in their own culture. 'Music for a while', wrote Dryden, 'shall all your cares beguile.'36 Hawkins and Blainville projected into the dis- tant past the fantasies of leisured Europeans. Their discussions of origin were paradoxically a means of denying the difference between 'now' and 'then', a means of making history a grand continuity.

But from where did people receive the inspiration and stimulus for the invention of music? Hawkins, glossing Kircher, answered that mankind found music everywhere around them in nature:

The voices of animals, the whistling of the winds, the fall of waters, the con- cussion of bodies of various kinds, not to mention the melody of birds, as they contain in them the rudiments of harmony, may easily be supposed to have furnished the minds of intelligent creatures with such ideas of sound, as time, and the accumulated observation of succeeding ages, could not fail to improve into a system.37

'Lucretius', Hawkins reports in a footnote, and without committing himself, 'supposes that mankind took their first notions of music from the singing of birds':

Thro' all the woods they heard the charming noise Of chirping birds, and try'd to frame their voice And imitate. Thus birds instructed man, And taught them songs before their art began; And whilst soft evening gales blew o'er the plains, And shook the sounding reeds, they taught the swains, And thus the pipe was fram'd and tuneful reed.38

The Christian church appropriated this 'pagan' notion that music was learnt from the birds; the story of the white dove, messenger of God, who dictated Gregorian chant to St Gregory, is the best-known example. Less well known, but more pertinent to eighteenth-century German

writers, is Luther's poetic introduction toJohann Walter's Glory and Praise

of the Laudable Art of Music (1538). Here the nightingale, described as a 'mistress' of musica, is said to sing in praise of God, the creator of her

song.39 5 Hawkins, A General History, 2, cols. 1-2.

Dryden's lyric 'Music for a while', from the tragedy Oedipus, was set to music by Henry Purcell in 1692, from which it is cited here.

"7 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2. Hawkins may have known Kircher either in the

original Latin or in German translation, the latter consulted here. See Athanasius Kircher,

Philosophischer Extract und Auszug aus dess welt-beriihmten teutschenJesuiten Athanasii Kircheri von Fulda

Musurgia universali, ed. and trans. Andrea Hirschen (Schwabisch-Hall, 1662; repr. Kassel, 1988), 67-71.

1 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note. Hawkins cites Lucretius in the translation by Thomas Creech, T. Lucretius Carus, the Epicurean Philosopher, his Six Books De Natura Rerum Done into English Verse, with Notes (Oxford, 1682) - the volume went through many reprints and editions in the eighteenth century.

'9 Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, liii: Liturgy and Hymns (Philadelphia, 1965), 320.

ships' that men began to 'handle the harp and organ', which it cannot be sup- posed they could do to any other delightful purpose, without some knowledge of those harmonical relations and coincidences of sound, which are the essence of the art.35

Both writers ascribed a role to music in early society that was informed

by its place in their own culture. 'Music for a while', wrote Dryden, 'shall all your cares beguile.'36 Hawkins and Blainville projected into the dis- tant past the fantasies of leisured Europeans. Their discussions of origin were paradoxically a means of denying the difference between 'now' and 'then', a means of making history a grand continuity.

But from where did people receive the inspiration and stimulus for the invention of music? Hawkins, glossing Kircher, answered that mankind found music everywhere around them in nature:

The voices of animals, the whistling of the winds, the fall of waters, the con- cussion of bodies of various kinds, not to mention the melody of birds, as they contain in them the rudiments of harmony, may easily be supposed to have furnished the minds of intelligent creatures with such ideas of sound, as time, and the accumulated observation of succeeding ages, could not fail to improve into a system.37

'Lucretius', Hawkins reports in a footnote, and without committing himself, 'supposes that mankind took their first notions of music from the singing of birds':

Thro' all the woods they heard the charming noise Of chirping birds, and try'd to frame their voice And imitate. Thus birds instructed man, And taught them songs before their art began; And whilst soft evening gales blew o'er the plains, And shook the sounding reeds, they taught the swains, And thus the pipe was fram'd and tuneful reed.38

The Christian church appropriated this 'pagan' notion that music was learnt from the birds; the story of the white dove, messenger of God, who dictated Gregorian chant to St Gregory, is the best-known example. Less well known, but more pertinent to eighteenth-century German

writers, is Luther's poetic introduction toJohann Walter's Glory and Praise

of the Laudable Art of Music (1538). Here the nightingale, described as a 'mistress' of musica, is said to sing in praise of God, the creator of her

song.39 5 Hawkins, A General History, 2, cols. 1-2.

Dryden's lyric 'Music for a while', from the tragedy Oedipus, was set to music by Henry Purcell in 1692, from which it is cited here.

"7 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2. Hawkins may have known Kircher either in the

original Latin or in German translation, the latter consulted here. See Athanasius Kircher,

Philosophischer Extract und Auszug aus dess welt-beriihmten teutschenJesuiten Athanasii Kircheri von Fulda

Musurgia universali, ed. and trans. Andrea Hirschen (Schwabisch-Hall, 1662; repr. Kassel, 1988), 67-71.

1 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note. Hawkins cites Lucretius in the translation by Thomas Creech, T. Lucretius Carus, the Epicurean Philosopher, his Six Books De Natura Rerum Done into English Verse, with Notes (Oxford, 1682) - the volume went through many reprints and editions in the eighteenth century.

'9 Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, liii: Liturgy and Hymns (Philadelphia, 1965), 320.

ships' that men began to 'handle the harp and organ', which it cannot be sup- posed they could do to any other delightful purpose, without some knowledge of those harmonical relations and coincidences of sound, which are the essence of the art.35

Both writers ascribed a role to music in early society that was informed

by its place in their own culture. 'Music for a while', wrote Dryden, 'shall all your cares beguile.'36 Hawkins and Blainville projected into the dis- tant past the fantasies of leisured Europeans. Their discussions of origin were paradoxically a means of denying the difference between 'now' and 'then', a means of making history a grand continuity.

But from where did people receive the inspiration and stimulus for the invention of music? Hawkins, glossing Kircher, answered that mankind found music everywhere around them in nature:

The voices of animals, the whistling of the winds, the fall of waters, the con- cussion of bodies of various kinds, not to mention the melody of birds, as they contain in them the rudiments of harmony, may easily be supposed to have furnished the minds of intelligent creatures with such ideas of sound, as time, and the accumulated observation of succeeding ages, could not fail to improve into a system.37

'Lucretius', Hawkins reports in a footnote, and without committing himself, 'supposes that mankind took their first notions of music from the singing of birds':

Thro' all the woods they heard the charming noise Of chirping birds, and try'd to frame their voice And imitate. Thus birds instructed man, And taught them songs before their art began; And whilst soft evening gales blew o'er the plains, And shook the sounding reeds, they taught the swains, And thus the pipe was fram'd and tuneful reed.38

The Christian church appropriated this 'pagan' notion that music was learnt from the birds; the story of the white dove, messenger of God, who dictated Gregorian chant to St Gregory, is the best-known example. Less well known, but more pertinent to eighteenth-century German

writers, is Luther's poetic introduction toJohann Walter's Glory and Praise

of the Laudable Art of Music (1538). Here the nightingale, described as a 'mistress' of musica, is said to sing in praise of God, the creator of her

song.39 5 Hawkins, A General History, 2, cols. 1-2.

Dryden's lyric 'Music for a while', from the tragedy Oedipus, was set to music by Henry Purcell in 1692, from which it is cited here.

"7 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2. Hawkins may have known Kircher either in the

original Latin or in German translation, the latter consulted here. See Athanasius Kircher,

Philosophischer Extract und Auszug aus dess welt-beriihmten teutschenJesuiten Athanasii Kircheri von Fulda

Musurgia universali, ed. and trans. Andrea Hirschen (Schwabisch-Hall, 1662; repr. Kassel, 1988), 67-71.

1 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note. Hawkins cites Lucretius in the translation by Thomas Creech, T. Lucretius Carus, the Epicurean Philosopher, his Six Books De Natura Rerum Done into English Verse, with Notes (Oxford, 1682) - the volume went through many reprints and editions in the eighteenth century.

'9 Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, liii: Liturgy and Hymns (Philadelphia, 1965), 320.

ships' that men began to 'handle the harp and organ', which it cannot be sup- posed they could do to any other delightful purpose, without some knowledge of those harmonical relations and coincidences of sound, which are the essence of the art.35

Both writers ascribed a role to music in early society that was informed

by its place in their own culture. 'Music for a while', wrote Dryden, 'shall all your cares beguile.'36 Hawkins and Blainville projected into the dis- tant past the fantasies of leisured Europeans. Their discussions of origin were paradoxically a means of denying the difference between 'now' and 'then', a means of making history a grand continuity.

But from where did people receive the inspiration and stimulus for the invention of music? Hawkins, glossing Kircher, answered that mankind found music everywhere around them in nature:

The voices of animals, the whistling of the winds, the fall of waters, the con- cussion of bodies of various kinds, not to mention the melody of birds, as they contain in them the rudiments of harmony, may easily be supposed to have furnished the minds of intelligent creatures with such ideas of sound, as time, and the accumulated observation of succeeding ages, could not fail to improve into a system.37

'Lucretius', Hawkins reports in a footnote, and without committing himself, 'supposes that mankind took their first notions of music from the singing of birds':

Thro' all the woods they heard the charming noise Of chirping birds, and try'd to frame their voice And imitate. Thus birds instructed man, And taught them songs before their art began; And whilst soft evening gales blew o'er the plains, And shook the sounding reeds, they taught the swains, And thus the pipe was fram'd and tuneful reed.38

The Christian church appropriated this 'pagan' notion that music was learnt from the birds; the story of the white dove, messenger of God, who dictated Gregorian chant to St Gregory, is the best-known example. Less well known, but more pertinent to eighteenth-century German

writers, is Luther's poetic introduction toJohann Walter's Glory and Praise

of the Laudable Art of Music (1538). Here the nightingale, described as a 'mistress' of musica, is said to sing in praise of God, the creator of her

song.39 5 Hawkins, A General History, 2, cols. 1-2.

Dryden's lyric 'Music for a while', from the tragedy Oedipus, was set to music by Henry Purcell in 1692, from which it is cited here.

"7 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2. Hawkins may have known Kircher either in the

original Latin or in German translation, the latter consulted here. See Athanasius Kircher,

Philosophischer Extract und Auszug aus dess welt-beriihmten teutschenJesuiten Athanasii Kircheri von Fulda

Musurgia universali, ed. and trans. Andrea Hirschen (Schwabisch-Hall, 1662; repr. Kassel, 1988), 67-71.

1 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note. Hawkins cites Lucretius in the translation by Thomas Creech, T. Lucretius Carus, the Epicurean Philosopher, his Six Books De Natura Rerum Done into English Verse, with Notes (Oxford, 1682) - the volume went through many reprints and editions in the eighteenth century.

'9 Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, liii: Liturgy and Hymns (Philadelphia, 1965), 320.

12 12 12 12 12

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

(DSiuersarunm uolucr*um voces notr mrswic exprefr ;

,.^_

(DSiuersarunm uolucr*um voces notr mrswic exprefr ;

,.^_

(DSiuersarunm uolucr*um voces notr mrswic exprefr ;

,.^_

(DSiuersarunm uolucr*um voces notr mrswic exprefr ;

,.^_

(DSiuersarunm uolucr*um voces notr mrswic exprefr ;

,.^_

Figure 1. Birdsongs in Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia universalis (Rome, 1650), book I, 30. The erudite parrot, bottom right, says 'hello'. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

Hawkins, drawing heavily upon Kircher's discussion and notation of animal voices (see Figure 1), posited that people learnt not only melody but also the principles of diatonic music from birdsongs which 'contain in them the rudiments of harmony'. Both the limits of representation and the relations of power between musical scholar and nature are evident in Hawkins's reductive transcriptions. From these tamed songs we learn that the blackbird (not actually mentioned by Kircher but, as a British bird, of interest to Hawkins) sings a triadic F major fanfare with a Scotch

snap (see Example la). The cuckoo is stuck on its monotonous descend-

ing minor third (see Example lb and cf. illustration E in Figure 1). Hawkins quibbles with Kircher's notation of the song of the dunghill cock (see Example Ic and cf. illustration A in Figure 1), and adds that the bantam cock sings a descending fifth (see Example Id). But Hawkins upholds Kircher's solution to the most advanced example in this feathery lesson in interval identification, confirming that 'the song of the hen at the time of,her laying' consists of a series of repeated ascending major sixths (see Example le and cf. illustration B in Figure 1).40

Not only birds but also 'other animals, and even quadrupeds articulate sounds that have a musical ratio to each other'. Hawkins proceeds to cite Kircher's fabulous description of the sloth's diatonic cry (see Figure 2). In attributing the discovery of this cry to 'the Spaniards when they first took possession of these [South American] coasts', Hawkins sets this

40 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note.

Figure 1. Birdsongs in Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia universalis (Rome, 1650), book I, 30. The erudite parrot, bottom right, says 'hello'. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

Hawkins, drawing heavily upon Kircher's discussion and notation of animal voices (see Figure 1), posited that people learnt not only melody but also the principles of diatonic music from birdsongs which 'contain in them the rudiments of harmony'. Both the limits of representation and the relations of power between musical scholar and nature are evident in Hawkins's reductive transcriptions. From these tamed songs we learn that the blackbird (not actually mentioned by Kircher but, as a British bird, of interest to Hawkins) sings a triadic F major fanfare with a Scotch

snap (see Example la). The cuckoo is stuck on its monotonous descend-

ing minor third (see Example lb and cf. illustration E in Figure 1). Hawkins quibbles with Kircher's notation of the song of the dunghill cock (see Example Ic and cf. illustration A in Figure 1), and adds that the bantam cock sings a descending fifth (see Example Id). But Hawkins upholds Kircher's solution to the most advanced example in this feathery lesson in interval identification, confirming that 'the song of the hen at the time of,her laying' consists of a series of repeated ascending major sixths (see Example le and cf. illustration B in Figure 1).40

Not only birds but also 'other animals, and even quadrupeds articulate sounds that have a musical ratio to each other'. Hawkins proceeds to cite Kircher's fabulous description of the sloth's diatonic cry (see Figure 2). In attributing the discovery of this cry to 'the Spaniards when they first took possession of these [South American] coasts', Hawkins sets this

40 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note.

Figure 1. Birdsongs in Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia universalis (Rome, 1650), book I, 30. The erudite parrot, bottom right, says 'hello'. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

Hawkins, drawing heavily upon Kircher's discussion and notation of animal voices (see Figure 1), posited that people learnt not only melody but also the principles of diatonic music from birdsongs which 'contain in them the rudiments of harmony'. Both the limits of representation and the relations of power between musical scholar and nature are evident in Hawkins's reductive transcriptions. From these tamed songs we learn that the blackbird (not actually mentioned by Kircher but, as a British bird, of interest to Hawkins) sings a triadic F major fanfare with a Scotch

snap (see Example la). The cuckoo is stuck on its monotonous descend-

ing minor third (see Example lb and cf. illustration E in Figure 1). Hawkins quibbles with Kircher's notation of the song of the dunghill cock (see Example Ic and cf. illustration A in Figure 1), and adds that the bantam cock sings a descending fifth (see Example Id). But Hawkins upholds Kircher's solution to the most advanced example in this feathery lesson in interval identification, confirming that 'the song of the hen at the time of,her laying' consists of a series of repeated ascending major sixths (see Example le and cf. illustration B in Figure 1).40

Not only birds but also 'other animals, and even quadrupeds articulate sounds that have a musical ratio to each other'. Hawkins proceeds to cite Kircher's fabulous description of the sloth's diatonic cry (see Figure 2). In attributing the discovery of this cry to 'the Spaniards when they first took possession of these [South American] coasts', Hawkins sets this

40 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note.

Figure 1. Birdsongs in Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia universalis (Rome, 1650), book I, 30. The erudite parrot, bottom right, says 'hello'. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

Hawkins, drawing heavily upon Kircher's discussion and notation of animal voices (see Figure 1), posited that people learnt not only melody but also the principles of diatonic music from birdsongs which 'contain in them the rudiments of harmony'. Both the limits of representation and the relations of power between musical scholar and nature are evident in Hawkins's reductive transcriptions. From these tamed songs we learn that the blackbird (not actually mentioned by Kircher but, as a British bird, of interest to Hawkins) sings a triadic F major fanfare with a Scotch

snap (see Example la). The cuckoo is stuck on its monotonous descend-

ing minor third (see Example lb and cf. illustration E in Figure 1). Hawkins quibbles with Kircher's notation of the song of the dunghill cock (see Example Ic and cf. illustration A in Figure 1), and adds that the bantam cock sings a descending fifth (see Example Id). But Hawkins upholds Kircher's solution to the most advanced example in this feathery lesson in interval identification, confirming that 'the song of the hen at the time of,her laying' consists of a series of repeated ascending major sixths (see Example le and cf. illustration B in Figure 1).40

Not only birds but also 'other animals, and even quadrupeds articulate sounds that have a musical ratio to each other'. Hawkins proceeds to cite Kircher's fabulous description of the sloth's diatonic cry (see Figure 2). In attributing the discovery of this cry to 'the Spaniards when they first took possession of these [South American] coasts', Hawkins sets this

40 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note.

Figure 1. Birdsongs in Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia universalis (Rome, 1650), book I, 30. The erudite parrot, bottom right, says 'hello'. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

Hawkins, drawing heavily upon Kircher's discussion and notation of animal voices (see Figure 1), posited that people learnt not only melody but also the principles of diatonic music from birdsongs which 'contain in them the rudiments of harmony'. Both the limits of representation and the relations of power between musical scholar and nature are evident in Hawkins's reductive transcriptions. From these tamed songs we learn that the blackbird (not actually mentioned by Kircher but, as a British bird, of interest to Hawkins) sings a triadic F major fanfare with a Scotch

snap (see Example la). The cuckoo is stuck on its monotonous descend-

ing minor third (see Example lb and cf. illustration E in Figure 1). Hawkins quibbles with Kircher's notation of the song of the dunghill cock (see Example Ic and cf. illustration A in Figure 1), and adds that the bantam cock sings a descending fifth (see Example Id). But Hawkins upholds Kircher's solution to the most advanced example in this feathery lesson in interval identification, confirming that 'the song of the hen at the time of,her laying' consists of a series of repeated ascending major sixths (see Example le and cf. illustration B in Figure 1).40

Not only birds but also 'other animals, and even quadrupeds articulate sounds that have a musical ratio to each other'. Hawkins proceeds to cite Kircher's fabulous description of the sloth's diatonic cry (see Figure 2). In attributing the discovery of this cry to 'the Spaniards when they first took possession of these [South American] coasts', Hawkins sets this

40 Hawkins, A General History, 2, col. 2, note.

13 13 13 13 13

14 MATTHEW HEAD

Example 1. Birdsong in John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 2.

(a) Song of the blackbird

4.r r. D:.r?i

(b) The cuckoo

r J -

r J -

r J - Cu- cu, Cu- cu, Cu- cu

(c) The dunghill cock

"- r -- rF

14 MATTHEW HEAD

Example 1. Birdsong in John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 2.

(a) Song of the blackbird

4.r r. D:.r?i

(b) The cuckoo

r J -

r J -

r J - Cu- cu, Cu- cu, Cu- cu

(c) The dunghill cock

"- r -- rF

14 MATTHEW HEAD

Example 1. Birdsong in John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 2.

(a) Song of the blackbird

4.r r. D:.r?i

(b) The cuckoo

r J -

r J -

r J - Cu- cu, Cu- cu, Cu- cu

(c) The dunghill cock

"- r -- rF

14 MATTHEW HEAD

Example 1. Birdsong in John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 2.

(a) Song of the blackbird

4.r r. D:.r?i

(b) The cuckoo

r J -

r J -

r J - Cu- cu, Cu- cu, Cu- cu

(c) The dunghill cock

"- r -- rF

14 MATTHEW HEAD

Example 1. Birdsong in John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music (London, 1776; cited from 1853 edn), 2.

(a) Song of the blackbird

4.r r. D:.r?i

(b) The cuckoo

r J -

r J -

r J - Cu- cu, Cu- cu, Cu- cu

(c) The dunghill cock

"- r -- rF e I I r I, I e I I r I, I e I I r I, I e I I r I, I e I I r I, I

(d) The bantam cock

A

(d) The bantam cock

A

(d) The bantam cock

A

(d) The bantam cock

A

(d) The bantam cock

A

~2T1 ,

F F i ~2T1 ,

F F i ~2T1 ,

F F i ~2T1 ,

F F i ~2T1 ,

F F i

(e) The hen at the time of her laying

j j j J J J JJJJJ J J JJ J r

(f) The sloth

-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, h, h, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,

(e) The hen at the time of her laying

j j j J J J JJJJJ J J JJ J r

(f) The sloth

-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, h, h, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,

(e) The hen at the time of her laying

j j j J J J JJJJJ J J JJ J r

(f) The sloth

-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, h, h, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,

(e) The hen at the time of her laying

j j j J J J JJJJJ J J JJ J r

(f) The sloth

-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, h, h, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,

(e) The hen at the time of her laying

j j j J J J JJJJJ J J JJ J r

(f) The sloth

-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, h, h, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

Mufica Haut flue Pigritiq Animalis Americani.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,

Mufica Haut flue Pigritiq Animalis Americani.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,

Mufica Haut flue Pigritiq Animalis Americani.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,

Mufica Haut flue Pigritiq Animalis Americani.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,

Mufica Haut flue Pigritiq Animalis Americani.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,

Figura Animalis Haut. M Irum tamen, nullam huiufmodi ani.

malisanaromiam vnquim ab vllo conicctanm efe;cx intcriori enim conftitutio- ? . i nc facilc dc:ciufdem naturalibus facultatibus conijccrc pocrrant: Si enim os & dentes, fl flomachum habcat, non video cur natura_. iiiembra cibi reconditoria fine vfa ipfis afli- 1 gnaucrit: Scd non dubito,quin mea inftru.. .? a tionc informati Patres notri Amcricani .e- xatiorem in pofterum omoium expeticn*- .tiam fint fumpturi. .

'- occs'cterorum quadrupedutm cum no tz fint piffim ,is non inhzrcbimus, fcd ad volucrum quarundam voccs defcribcndas calarumn conucrtamus .

Figure 2. Three-toed sloth rehearsing the rudiments of music in Kircher, Musurgia universalis (1650), book I, 27. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

mishearing in a colonial context: the native creature's cry is conceived,

represented and understood in terms of the art music of the colonizer:

It is the size of a cat, has an ugly countenance, and claws projecting in the likeness of fingers: it has hair on the back part of its head, which covers its neck; it brushes the very ground with its fat belly. It never rises upon its feet, but moves forward so slowly, that it scarce in a continued space advances above the cast of a dart in even fifteen days .... They add ... that this beast makes no noise or cry but in the night, and with a voice interrupted only by the duration of a sigh or semi-pause. It perfectly intonates, as learners do, the first elements of music, ut, re, mi,fa, sol, la, la, sol,fa, mi, re, ut. Ascending and descending through the common intervals of the six degrees, insomuch that the Spaniards, when they first took possession of these coasts, and per- ceived such a kind of vociferation in the night, thought they heard men accustomed to the rules of music. It is called by the inhabitants Haut, for no other reason than that it repeats through every degree of the interval of a sixth the sound ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. [see Example lf].41

The idea that music is present in nature is a persistent trope, by no means restricted to the eighteenth century. We find it, for example, in Shakespeare's The Tempest, in Caliban's description of the sounds of the island and the music of his dreams.42 In this century, in The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth

1 Ibid., 3, col. 1, note. 42 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Figura Animalis Haut. M Irum tamen, nullam huiufmodi ani.

malisanaromiam vnquim ab vllo conicctanm efe;cx intcriori enim conftitutio- ? . i nc facilc dc:ciufdem naturalibus facultatibus conijccrc pocrrant: Si enim os & dentes, fl flomachum habcat, non video cur natura_. iiiembra cibi reconditoria fine vfa ipfis afli- 1 gnaucrit: Scd non dubito,quin mea inftru.. .? a tionc informati Patres notri Amcricani .e- xatiorem in pofterum omoium expeticn*- .tiam fint fumpturi. .

'- occs'cterorum quadrupedutm cum no tz fint piffim ,is non inhzrcbimus, fcd ad volucrum quarundam voccs defcribcndas calarumn conucrtamus .

Figure 2. Three-toed sloth rehearsing the rudiments of music in Kircher, Musurgia universalis (1650), book I, 27. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

mishearing in a colonial context: the native creature's cry is conceived,

represented and understood in terms of the art music of the colonizer:

It is the size of a cat, has an ugly countenance, and claws projecting in the likeness of fingers: it has hair on the back part of its head, which covers its neck; it brushes the very ground with its fat belly. It never rises upon its feet, but moves forward so slowly, that it scarce in a continued space advances above the cast of a dart in even fifteen days .... They add ... that this beast makes no noise or cry but in the night, and with a voice interrupted only by the duration of a sigh or semi-pause. It perfectly intonates, as learners do, the first elements of music, ut, re, mi,fa, sol, la, la, sol,fa, mi, re, ut. Ascending and descending through the common intervals of the six degrees, insomuch that the Spaniards, when they first took possession of these coasts, and per- ceived such a kind of vociferation in the night, thought they heard men accustomed to the rules of music. It is called by the inhabitants Haut, for no other reason than that it repeats through every degree of the interval of a sixth the sound ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. [see Example lf].41

The idea that music is present in nature is a persistent trope, by no means restricted to the eighteenth century. We find it, for example, in Shakespeare's The Tempest, in Caliban's description of the sounds of the island and the music of his dreams.42 In this century, in The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth

1 Ibid., 3, col. 1, note. 42 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Figura Animalis Haut. M Irum tamen, nullam huiufmodi ani.

malisanaromiam vnquim ab vllo conicctanm efe;cx intcriori enim conftitutio- ? . i nc facilc dc:ciufdem naturalibus facultatibus conijccrc pocrrant: Si enim os & dentes, fl flomachum habcat, non video cur natura_. iiiembra cibi reconditoria fine vfa ipfis afli- 1 gnaucrit: Scd non dubito,quin mea inftru.. .? a tionc informati Patres notri Amcricani .e- xatiorem in pofterum omoium expeticn*- .tiam fint fumpturi. .

'- occs'cterorum quadrupedutm cum no tz fint piffim ,is non inhzrcbimus, fcd ad volucrum quarundam voccs defcribcndas calarumn conucrtamus .

Figure 2. Three-toed sloth rehearsing the rudiments of music in Kircher, Musurgia universalis (1650), book I, 27. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

mishearing in a colonial context: the native creature's cry is conceived,

represented and understood in terms of the art music of the colonizer:

It is the size of a cat, has an ugly countenance, and claws projecting in the likeness of fingers: it has hair on the back part of its head, which covers its neck; it brushes the very ground with its fat belly. It never rises upon its feet, but moves forward so slowly, that it scarce in a continued space advances above the cast of a dart in even fifteen days .... They add ... that this beast makes no noise or cry but in the night, and with a voice interrupted only by the duration of a sigh or semi-pause. It perfectly intonates, as learners do, the first elements of music, ut, re, mi,fa, sol, la, la, sol,fa, mi, re, ut. Ascending and descending through the common intervals of the six degrees, insomuch that the Spaniards, when they first took possession of these coasts, and per- ceived such a kind of vociferation in the night, thought they heard men accustomed to the rules of music. It is called by the inhabitants Haut, for no other reason than that it repeats through every degree of the interval of a sixth the sound ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. [see Example lf].41

The idea that music is present in nature is a persistent trope, by no means restricted to the eighteenth century. We find it, for example, in Shakespeare's The Tempest, in Caliban's description of the sounds of the island and the music of his dreams.42 In this century, in The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth

1 Ibid., 3, col. 1, note. 42 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Figura Animalis Haut. M Irum tamen, nullam huiufmodi ani.

malisanaromiam vnquim ab vllo conicctanm efe;cx intcriori enim conftitutio- ? . i nc facilc dc:ciufdem naturalibus facultatibus conijccrc pocrrant: Si enim os & dentes, fl flomachum habcat, non video cur natura_. iiiembra cibi reconditoria fine vfa ipfis afli- 1 gnaucrit: Scd non dubito,quin mea inftru.. .? a tionc informati Patres notri Amcricani .e- xatiorem in pofterum omoium expeticn*- .tiam fint fumpturi. .

'- occs'cterorum quadrupedutm cum no tz fint piffim ,is non inhzrcbimus, fcd ad volucrum quarundam voccs defcribcndas calarumn conucrtamus .

Figure 2. Three-toed sloth rehearsing the rudiments of music in Kircher, Musurgia universalis (1650), book I, 27. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

mishearing in a colonial context: the native creature's cry is conceived,

represented and understood in terms of the art music of the colonizer:

It is the size of a cat, has an ugly countenance, and claws projecting in the likeness of fingers: it has hair on the back part of its head, which covers its neck; it brushes the very ground with its fat belly. It never rises upon its feet, but moves forward so slowly, that it scarce in a continued space advances above the cast of a dart in even fifteen days .... They add ... that this beast makes no noise or cry but in the night, and with a voice interrupted only by the duration of a sigh or semi-pause. It perfectly intonates, as learners do, the first elements of music, ut, re, mi,fa, sol, la, la, sol,fa, mi, re, ut. Ascending and descending through the common intervals of the six degrees, insomuch that the Spaniards, when they first took possession of these coasts, and per- ceived such a kind of vociferation in the night, thought they heard men accustomed to the rules of music. It is called by the inhabitants Haut, for no other reason than that it repeats through every degree of the interval of a sixth the sound ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. [see Example lf].41

The idea that music is present in nature is a persistent trope, by no means restricted to the eighteenth century. We find it, for example, in Shakespeare's The Tempest, in Caliban's description of the sounds of the island and the music of his dreams.42 In this century, in The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth

1 Ibid., 3, col. 1, note. 42 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Figura Animalis Haut. M Irum tamen, nullam huiufmodi ani.

malisanaromiam vnquim ab vllo conicctanm efe;cx intcriori enim conftitutio- ? . i nc facilc dc:ciufdem naturalibus facultatibus conijccrc pocrrant: Si enim os & dentes, fl flomachum habcat, non video cur natura_. iiiembra cibi reconditoria fine vfa ipfis afli- 1 gnaucrit: Scd non dubito,quin mea inftru.. .? a tionc informati Patres notri Amcricani .e- xatiorem in pofterum omoium expeticn*- .tiam fint fumpturi. .

'- occs'cterorum quadrupedutm cum no tz fint piffim ,is non inhzrcbimus, fcd ad volucrum quarundam voccs defcribcndas calarumn conucrtamus .

Figure 2. Three-toed sloth rehearsing the rudiments of music in Kircher, Musurgia universalis (1650), book I, 27. Reproduced by kind permission of the British Library.

mishearing in a colonial context: the native creature's cry is conceived,

represented and understood in terms of the art music of the colonizer:

It is the size of a cat, has an ugly countenance, and claws projecting in the likeness of fingers: it has hair on the back part of its head, which covers its neck; it brushes the very ground with its fat belly. It never rises upon its feet, but moves forward so slowly, that it scarce in a continued space advances above the cast of a dart in even fifteen days .... They add ... that this beast makes no noise or cry but in the night, and with a voice interrupted only by the duration of a sigh or semi-pause. It perfectly intonates, as learners do, the first elements of music, ut, re, mi,fa, sol, la, la, sol,fa, mi, re, ut. Ascending and descending through the common intervals of the six degrees, insomuch that the Spaniards, when they first took possession of these coasts, and per- ceived such a kind of vociferation in the night, thought they heard men accustomed to the rules of music. It is called by the inhabitants Haut, for no other reason than that it repeats through every degree of the interval of a sixth the sound ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, etc. [see Example lf].41

The idea that music is present in nature is a persistent trope, by no means restricted to the eighteenth century. We find it, for example, in Shakespeare's The Tempest, in Caliban's description of the sounds of the island and the music of his dreams.42 In this century, in The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth

1 Ibid., 3, col. 1, note. 42 'Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

15 15 15 15 15

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

Grahame describes a rapturous music of the riverbank, the memory of which fills Ratty and Mole with restlessness and longing.43 Similar, though less ecstatic, images of the music of the riverbank are encountered in the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. After the great flood, wrote Rousseau, all trace of music vanished from the face of the earth, and it was left to the Egyptians to rediscover it when they heard the sound of the wind blowing through reeds on the banks of the River Nile.44

THE BANISHMENT OF BIRDSONG

Few eighteenth-century writers went into as much detail as Hawkins about the music of nature. In later eighteenth-century texts, birdsong stands

synecdochally alone as an emblem of music as an objet trouve in the ancient natural world. But writers were dismissive of this notion; it was aesthetic- ally repugnant.45 The intervals of birdsong were, for Laborde, unintel-

ligible to human ears; they could not have furnished a model for music:

With regard to [music's] origin, it is a fanciful opinion of Cameleon Pontique, to want to attribute it to birdsong. Without a doubt, birdsong pleases the ear: it is even sufficiently varied to give intellectual pleasure; but it is not intelligible to humans who can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by practice.46

Schubart rejected the idea on the grounds that music is not 'an art of mimicry' - it flows from the human heart:

The art of music is as old as the world. Man could as well be called a singing creature as Aristotle called him a speaking one. Everyone is born with a disposi- tion for song. ... It is thus childish and entirely contrary to the nature of

Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.'

Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 3, scene ii. ' "0O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the

distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us."

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. "I hear nothing, myself', he said, "but the wind play- ing in the reeds and rushes and osiers."

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant, in a strong sustaining grasp.'

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows (New York, 1989), 132-3. 4 JeanJacques Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary of Music, trans. William Waring (2nd edn,

London, 1779), s.v. 'Music'. Cf. Kircher, Philosophischer Extract, 69, and Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

45 This was already the case with Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, Vorrede, 11; and the objections he reports from Gresset, Discours sur I'harmonie, 85, concerning the lack of variety in birdsong furnished C. F. D. Schubart with the material of his critique, cited below.

46 'A l'egard de son origine, c'est une opinion extravagante que celle de Cameleon Pontique, de vouloir l'attribuer au chant des oiseaux. Le chant plait sans doubte a l'oreille: il est meme assez varie pour faire plaisir aux sens; mais sans en faire a l'intelligence humaine, que ne peut porter aucun jugement, ni par theorie, ni par pratique, sur la plus grande partie des intervalles formes par le chant des oiseaux.' Laborde, Essai, i, ch. 4, 8. It has not been pos- sible to establish the identity of 'Cameleon Pontique', possibly a nom de plume, or perhaps a personal acquaintance of Laborde's. This is hardly significant, however, since Laborde's attribu- tion to Pontique of the theory that melody was learnt from the birds is idiosyncratic - this was a commonplace by the time Laborde was writing, and dates back at least as far as Lucretius.

Grahame describes a rapturous music of the riverbank, the memory of which fills Ratty and Mole with restlessness and longing.43 Similar, though less ecstatic, images of the music of the riverbank are encountered in the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. After the great flood, wrote Rousseau, all trace of music vanished from the face of the earth, and it was left to the Egyptians to rediscover it when they heard the sound of the wind blowing through reeds on the banks of the River Nile.44

THE BANISHMENT OF BIRDSONG

Few eighteenth-century writers went into as much detail as Hawkins about the music of nature. In later eighteenth-century texts, birdsong stands

synecdochally alone as an emblem of music as an objet trouve in the ancient natural world. But writers were dismissive of this notion; it was aesthetic- ally repugnant.45 The intervals of birdsong were, for Laborde, unintel-

ligible to human ears; they could not have furnished a model for music:

With regard to [music's] origin, it is a fanciful opinion of Cameleon Pontique, to want to attribute it to birdsong. Without a doubt, birdsong pleases the ear: it is even sufficiently varied to give intellectual pleasure; but it is not intelligible to humans who can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by practice.46

Schubart rejected the idea on the grounds that music is not 'an art of mimicry' - it flows from the human heart:

The art of music is as old as the world. Man could as well be called a singing creature as Aristotle called him a speaking one. Everyone is born with a disposi- tion for song. ... It is thus childish and entirely contrary to the nature of

Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.'

Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 3, scene ii. ' "0O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the

distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us."

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. "I hear nothing, myself', he said, "but the wind play- ing in the reeds and rushes and osiers."

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant, in a strong sustaining grasp.'

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows (New York, 1989), 132-3. 4 JeanJacques Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary of Music, trans. William Waring (2nd edn,

London, 1779), s.v. 'Music'. Cf. Kircher, Philosophischer Extract, 69, and Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

45 This was already the case with Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, Vorrede, 11; and the objections he reports from Gresset, Discours sur I'harmonie, 85, concerning the lack of variety in birdsong furnished C. F. D. Schubart with the material of his critique, cited below.

46 'A l'egard de son origine, c'est une opinion extravagante que celle de Cameleon Pontique, de vouloir l'attribuer au chant des oiseaux. Le chant plait sans doubte a l'oreille: il est meme assez varie pour faire plaisir aux sens; mais sans en faire a l'intelligence humaine, que ne peut porter aucun jugement, ni par theorie, ni par pratique, sur la plus grande partie des intervalles formes par le chant des oiseaux.' Laborde, Essai, i, ch. 4, 8. It has not been pos- sible to establish the identity of 'Cameleon Pontique', possibly a nom de plume, or perhaps a personal acquaintance of Laborde's. This is hardly significant, however, since Laborde's attribu- tion to Pontique of the theory that melody was learnt from the birds is idiosyncratic - this was a commonplace by the time Laborde was writing, and dates back at least as far as Lucretius.

Grahame describes a rapturous music of the riverbank, the memory of which fills Ratty and Mole with restlessness and longing.43 Similar, though less ecstatic, images of the music of the riverbank are encountered in the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. After the great flood, wrote Rousseau, all trace of music vanished from the face of the earth, and it was left to the Egyptians to rediscover it when they heard the sound of the wind blowing through reeds on the banks of the River Nile.44

THE BANISHMENT OF BIRDSONG

Few eighteenth-century writers went into as much detail as Hawkins about the music of nature. In later eighteenth-century texts, birdsong stands

synecdochally alone as an emblem of music as an objet trouve in the ancient natural world. But writers were dismissive of this notion; it was aesthetic- ally repugnant.45 The intervals of birdsong were, for Laborde, unintel-

ligible to human ears; they could not have furnished a model for music:

With regard to [music's] origin, it is a fanciful opinion of Cameleon Pontique, to want to attribute it to birdsong. Without a doubt, birdsong pleases the ear: it is even sufficiently varied to give intellectual pleasure; but it is not intelligible to humans who can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by practice.46

Schubart rejected the idea on the grounds that music is not 'an art of mimicry' - it flows from the human heart:

The art of music is as old as the world. Man could as well be called a singing creature as Aristotle called him a speaking one. Everyone is born with a disposi- tion for song. ... It is thus childish and entirely contrary to the nature of

Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.'

Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 3, scene ii. ' "0O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the

distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us."

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. "I hear nothing, myself', he said, "but the wind play- ing in the reeds and rushes and osiers."

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant, in a strong sustaining grasp.'

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows (New York, 1989), 132-3. 4 JeanJacques Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary of Music, trans. William Waring (2nd edn,

London, 1779), s.v. 'Music'. Cf. Kircher, Philosophischer Extract, 69, and Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

45 This was already the case with Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, Vorrede, 11; and the objections he reports from Gresset, Discours sur I'harmonie, 85, concerning the lack of variety in birdsong furnished C. F. D. Schubart with the material of his critique, cited below.

46 'A l'egard de son origine, c'est une opinion extravagante que celle de Cameleon Pontique, de vouloir l'attribuer au chant des oiseaux. Le chant plait sans doubte a l'oreille: il est meme assez varie pour faire plaisir aux sens; mais sans en faire a l'intelligence humaine, que ne peut porter aucun jugement, ni par theorie, ni par pratique, sur la plus grande partie des intervalles formes par le chant des oiseaux.' Laborde, Essai, i, ch. 4, 8. It has not been pos- sible to establish the identity of 'Cameleon Pontique', possibly a nom de plume, or perhaps a personal acquaintance of Laborde's. This is hardly significant, however, since Laborde's attribu- tion to Pontique of the theory that melody was learnt from the birds is idiosyncratic - this was a commonplace by the time Laborde was writing, and dates back at least as far as Lucretius.

Grahame describes a rapturous music of the riverbank, the memory of which fills Ratty and Mole with restlessness and longing.43 Similar, though less ecstatic, images of the music of the riverbank are encountered in the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. After the great flood, wrote Rousseau, all trace of music vanished from the face of the earth, and it was left to the Egyptians to rediscover it when they heard the sound of the wind blowing through reeds on the banks of the River Nile.44

THE BANISHMENT OF BIRDSONG

Few eighteenth-century writers went into as much detail as Hawkins about the music of nature. In later eighteenth-century texts, birdsong stands

synecdochally alone as an emblem of music as an objet trouve in the ancient natural world. But writers were dismissive of this notion; it was aesthetic- ally repugnant.45 The intervals of birdsong were, for Laborde, unintel-

ligible to human ears; they could not have furnished a model for music:

With regard to [music's] origin, it is a fanciful opinion of Cameleon Pontique, to want to attribute it to birdsong. Without a doubt, birdsong pleases the ear: it is even sufficiently varied to give intellectual pleasure; but it is not intelligible to humans who can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by practice.46

Schubart rejected the idea on the grounds that music is not 'an art of mimicry' - it flows from the human heart:

The art of music is as old as the world. Man could as well be called a singing creature as Aristotle called him a speaking one. Everyone is born with a disposi- tion for song. ... It is thus childish and entirely contrary to the nature of

Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.'

Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 3, scene ii. ' "0O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the

distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us."

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. "I hear nothing, myself', he said, "but the wind play- ing in the reeds and rushes and osiers."

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant, in a strong sustaining grasp.'

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows (New York, 1989), 132-3. 4 JeanJacques Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary of Music, trans. William Waring (2nd edn,

London, 1779), s.v. 'Music'. Cf. Kircher, Philosophischer Extract, 69, and Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

45 This was already the case with Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, Vorrede, 11; and the objections he reports from Gresset, Discours sur I'harmonie, 85, concerning the lack of variety in birdsong furnished C. F. D. Schubart with the material of his critique, cited below.

46 'A l'egard de son origine, c'est une opinion extravagante que celle de Cameleon Pontique, de vouloir l'attribuer au chant des oiseaux. Le chant plait sans doubte a l'oreille: il est meme assez varie pour faire plaisir aux sens; mais sans en faire a l'intelligence humaine, que ne peut porter aucun jugement, ni par theorie, ni par pratique, sur la plus grande partie des intervalles formes par le chant des oiseaux.' Laborde, Essai, i, ch. 4, 8. It has not been pos- sible to establish the identity of 'Cameleon Pontique', possibly a nom de plume, or perhaps a personal acquaintance of Laborde's. This is hardly significant, however, since Laborde's attribu- tion to Pontique of the theory that melody was learnt from the birds is idiosyncratic - this was a commonplace by the time Laborde was writing, and dates back at least as far as Lucretius.

Grahame describes a rapturous music of the riverbank, the memory of which fills Ratty and Mole with restlessness and longing.43 Similar, though less ecstatic, images of the music of the riverbank are encountered in the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. After the great flood, wrote Rousseau, all trace of music vanished from the face of the earth, and it was left to the Egyptians to rediscover it when they heard the sound of the wind blowing through reeds on the banks of the River Nile.44

THE BANISHMENT OF BIRDSONG

Few eighteenth-century writers went into as much detail as Hawkins about the music of nature. In later eighteenth-century texts, birdsong stands

synecdochally alone as an emblem of music as an objet trouve in the ancient natural world. But writers were dismissive of this notion; it was aesthetic- ally repugnant.45 The intervals of birdsong were, for Laborde, unintel-

ligible to human ears; they could not have furnished a model for music:

With regard to [music's] origin, it is a fanciful opinion of Cameleon Pontique, to want to attribute it to birdsong. Without a doubt, birdsong pleases the ear: it is even sufficiently varied to give intellectual pleasure; but it is not intelligible to humans who can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by practice.46

Schubart rejected the idea on the grounds that music is not 'an art of mimicry' - it flows from the human heart:

The art of music is as old as the world. Man could as well be called a singing creature as Aristotle called him a speaking one. Everyone is born with a disposi- tion for song. ... It is thus childish and entirely contrary to the nature of

Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.'

Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 3, scene ii. ' "0O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the

distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us."

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. "I hear nothing, myself', he said, "but the wind play- ing in the reeds and rushes and osiers."

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant, in a strong sustaining grasp.'

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows (New York, 1989), 132-3. 4 JeanJacques Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary of Music, trans. William Waring (2nd edn,

London, 1779), s.v. 'Music'. Cf. Kircher, Philosophischer Extract, 69, and Anon., Kurtzgefafltes musicalisches Lexicon, 17.

45 This was already the case with Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, Vorrede, 11; and the objections he reports from Gresset, Discours sur I'harmonie, 85, concerning the lack of variety in birdsong furnished C. F. D. Schubart with the material of his critique, cited below.

46 'A l'egard de son origine, c'est une opinion extravagante que celle de Cameleon Pontique, de vouloir l'attribuer au chant des oiseaux. Le chant plait sans doubte a l'oreille: il est meme assez varie pour faire plaisir aux sens; mais sans en faire a l'intelligence humaine, que ne peut porter aucun jugement, ni par theorie, ni par pratique, sur la plus grande partie des intervalles formes par le chant des oiseaux.' Laborde, Essai, i, ch. 4, 8. It has not been pos- sible to establish the identity of 'Cameleon Pontique', possibly a nom de plume, or perhaps a personal acquaintance of Laborde's. This is hardly significant, however, since Laborde's attribu- tion to Pontique of the theory that melody was learnt from the birds is idiosyncratic - this was a commonplace by the time Laborde was writing, and dates back at least as far as Lucretius.

16 16 16 16 16

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

humanity, when we want to accept, with certain ancient writers, that man learnt to sing from birds or that music is an art of mimicry. The eternal sameness of birdsong is so wearisome that people could have lapsed into imitating it only in certain comical hours. The swallow in our gutters twitters now as it did in Adam's day; . . . and yet what endless variety man has brought to

composition.47

In dismissing the model of birdsong, Schubart espoused the prevailing later eighteenth-century theory of the origins of music. In Eximeno's words, 'man possess[es] within himself the origin of music, which ...

proceeds from instinct, as does language'.48 Forkel made an almost identical point: 'Music ... is the language of our hearts, and everyone brings the germ of it with them into the world.'49 Music, then, was still rooted in nature, but now in human nature, not in the natural world: 'music is an art grounded in the nature of mankind', Sulzer wrote.50

The notion that music was an innate language of human passion can be traced to theories of ancient music formulated by the Florentine Camerata. In a letter to Vincenzo Galilei of 8 May 1572, Girolamo Mei wrote that 'nature gave a voice to animals and especially to man for the

expression of inner states'.51 In the eighteenth century, the idea that music is innate is met as early as Der critische Musikus of 1737, in which Scheibe stated that 'from the very beginning, [music] existed in the soul or nature of mankind'.52 The notion received additional impetus from Rousseau's remarks on music in the 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', and here, as in Eximeno's Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, it was most

47 'Die Tonkunst ist so alt als die Welt. Man konnte ebenso wohl den Menschen ein singendes Geschopf als mit Aristoteles ein redendes Geschopf nennen. Alle Menschen werden mit einer Anlage zum Gesang geboren.... Es ist also kindisch und ganz und gar gegen die Wurde der Menschheit, wenn man mit einigen alten musikalischen Geschichtsschreibern annehmen wollte, der Mensch hatte das Singen von den V6geln gelernt oder Musik sei nachahmende Kunst. Das ewige Einerlei des Vogelgesanges ist zu ermudend, als daB die Menschen anders als in gewissen launigen Stunden auf die Nachahmung desselben verfallen konnten. Die Schwalbe auf unserer Dachrinne zwitschert noch heute wie zu Adams Zeiten;... Hingegen welche unendliche Veranderung hat die Tonkunst unter dem Menschengeschlechte erlitten!' Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna, 1806; repr. Leipzig, 1977), 35.

' Antonio Eximeno, Dell' origine e delle regole della musica (Rome, 1774; repr. Hildesheim, 1983), cited from Ladson John Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la mfisica": Introduction, Commentary, and Translation' (Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1992), 114. On the development in France of this theory of music as a natural language of the passions see Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, ch. 2. An early appearance of this theory in Germany was in Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung, 3.

49 'Die Musik ... ist die Sprache unsers Herzens, und den Keim derselben bringt jeder Mensch, bey seinem Eintritt in diese Welt, mit sich.' Johann Nicolaus Forkel, Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1788), i, 69.

5 '[Die Musik] ist also eine Kunst, die in der Natur des Menschen gegriindet ist.' Sulzer, Allgemeine Theorie, ii, 266.

'5 Translated in Claude V. Palisca, The Florentine Camerata: Documentary Studies and Trans- lations (New Haven, 1989), 56-77 (p. 57). I am grateful to Claude Palisca for drawing my attention to this letter.

" 'Er liegt also schon von Anbeginn in der Seele oder in der Natur des Menschen.' Cited from Johann Adolph Scheibe's later discussion of music's origin, Abhandlung vom Ursprunge und Alter der Musik, insonderheit der Vokalmusik (Altona and Flensburg, repr. 1754; repr. Leipzig, 1987), 5.

humanity, when we want to accept, with certain ancient writers, that man learnt to sing from birds or that music is an art of mimicry. The eternal sameness of birdsong is so wearisome that people could have lapsed into imitating it only in certain comical hours. The swallow in our gutters twitters now as it did in Adam's day; . . . and yet what endless variety man has brought to

composition.47

In dismissing the model of birdsong, Schubart espoused the prevailing later eighteenth-century theory of the origins of music. In Eximeno's words, 'man possess[es] within himself the origin of music, which ...

proceeds from instinct, as does language'.48 Forkel made an almost identical point: 'Music ... is the language of our hearts, and everyone brings the germ of it with them into the world.'49 Music, then, was still rooted in nature, but now in human nature, not in the natural world: 'music is an art grounded in the nature of mankind', Sulzer wrote.50

The notion that music was an innate language of human passion can be traced to theories of ancient music formulated by the Florentine Camerata. In a letter to Vincenzo Galilei of 8 May 1572, Girolamo Mei wrote that 'nature gave a voice to animals and especially to man for the

expression of inner states'.51 In the eighteenth century, the idea that music is innate is met as early as Der critische Musikus of 1737, in which Scheibe stated that 'from the very beginning, [music] existed in the soul or nature of mankind'.52 The notion received additional impetus from Rousseau's remarks on music in the 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', and here, as in Eximeno's Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, it was most

47 'Die Tonkunst ist so alt als die Welt. Man konnte ebenso wohl den Menschen ein singendes Geschopf als mit Aristoteles ein redendes Geschopf nennen. Alle Menschen werden mit einer Anlage zum Gesang geboren.... Es ist also kindisch und ganz und gar gegen die Wurde der Menschheit, wenn man mit einigen alten musikalischen Geschichtsschreibern annehmen wollte, der Mensch hatte das Singen von den V6geln gelernt oder Musik sei nachahmende Kunst. Das ewige Einerlei des Vogelgesanges ist zu ermudend, als daB die Menschen anders als in gewissen launigen Stunden auf die Nachahmung desselben verfallen konnten. Die Schwalbe auf unserer Dachrinne zwitschert noch heute wie zu Adams Zeiten;... Hingegen welche unendliche Veranderung hat die Tonkunst unter dem Menschengeschlechte erlitten!' Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna, 1806; repr. Leipzig, 1977), 35.

' Antonio Eximeno, Dell' origine e delle regole della musica (Rome, 1774; repr. Hildesheim, 1983), cited from Ladson John Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la mfisica": Introduction, Commentary, and Translation' (Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1992), 114. On the development in France of this theory of music as a natural language of the passions see Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, ch. 2. An early appearance of this theory in Germany was in Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung, 3.

49 'Die Musik ... ist die Sprache unsers Herzens, und den Keim derselben bringt jeder Mensch, bey seinem Eintritt in diese Welt, mit sich.' Johann Nicolaus Forkel, Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1788), i, 69.

5 '[Die Musik] ist also eine Kunst, die in der Natur des Menschen gegriindet ist.' Sulzer, Allgemeine Theorie, ii, 266.

'5 Translated in Claude V. Palisca, The Florentine Camerata: Documentary Studies and Trans- lations (New Haven, 1989), 56-77 (p. 57). I am grateful to Claude Palisca for drawing my attention to this letter.

" 'Er liegt also schon von Anbeginn in der Seele oder in der Natur des Menschen.' Cited from Johann Adolph Scheibe's later discussion of music's origin, Abhandlung vom Ursprunge und Alter der Musik, insonderheit der Vokalmusik (Altona and Flensburg, repr. 1754; repr. Leipzig, 1987), 5.

humanity, when we want to accept, with certain ancient writers, that man learnt to sing from birds or that music is an art of mimicry. The eternal sameness of birdsong is so wearisome that people could have lapsed into imitating it only in certain comical hours. The swallow in our gutters twitters now as it did in Adam's day; . . . and yet what endless variety man has brought to

composition.47

In dismissing the model of birdsong, Schubart espoused the prevailing later eighteenth-century theory of the origins of music. In Eximeno's words, 'man possess[es] within himself the origin of music, which ...

proceeds from instinct, as does language'.48 Forkel made an almost identical point: 'Music ... is the language of our hearts, and everyone brings the germ of it with them into the world.'49 Music, then, was still rooted in nature, but now in human nature, not in the natural world: 'music is an art grounded in the nature of mankind', Sulzer wrote.50

The notion that music was an innate language of human passion can be traced to theories of ancient music formulated by the Florentine Camerata. In a letter to Vincenzo Galilei of 8 May 1572, Girolamo Mei wrote that 'nature gave a voice to animals and especially to man for the

expression of inner states'.51 In the eighteenth century, the idea that music is innate is met as early as Der critische Musikus of 1737, in which Scheibe stated that 'from the very beginning, [music] existed in the soul or nature of mankind'.52 The notion received additional impetus from Rousseau's remarks on music in the 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', and here, as in Eximeno's Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, it was most

47 'Die Tonkunst ist so alt als die Welt. Man konnte ebenso wohl den Menschen ein singendes Geschopf als mit Aristoteles ein redendes Geschopf nennen. Alle Menschen werden mit einer Anlage zum Gesang geboren.... Es ist also kindisch und ganz und gar gegen die Wurde der Menschheit, wenn man mit einigen alten musikalischen Geschichtsschreibern annehmen wollte, der Mensch hatte das Singen von den V6geln gelernt oder Musik sei nachahmende Kunst. Das ewige Einerlei des Vogelgesanges ist zu ermudend, als daB die Menschen anders als in gewissen launigen Stunden auf die Nachahmung desselben verfallen konnten. Die Schwalbe auf unserer Dachrinne zwitschert noch heute wie zu Adams Zeiten;... Hingegen welche unendliche Veranderung hat die Tonkunst unter dem Menschengeschlechte erlitten!' Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna, 1806; repr. Leipzig, 1977), 35.

' Antonio Eximeno, Dell' origine e delle regole della musica (Rome, 1774; repr. Hildesheim, 1983), cited from Ladson John Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la mfisica": Introduction, Commentary, and Translation' (Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1992), 114. On the development in France of this theory of music as a natural language of the passions see Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, ch. 2. An early appearance of this theory in Germany was in Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung, 3.

49 'Die Musik ... ist die Sprache unsers Herzens, und den Keim derselben bringt jeder Mensch, bey seinem Eintritt in diese Welt, mit sich.' Johann Nicolaus Forkel, Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1788), i, 69.

5 '[Die Musik] ist also eine Kunst, die in der Natur des Menschen gegriindet ist.' Sulzer, Allgemeine Theorie, ii, 266.

'5 Translated in Claude V. Palisca, The Florentine Camerata: Documentary Studies and Trans- lations (New Haven, 1989), 56-77 (p. 57). I am grateful to Claude Palisca for drawing my attention to this letter.

" 'Er liegt also schon von Anbeginn in der Seele oder in der Natur des Menschen.' Cited from Johann Adolph Scheibe's later discussion of music's origin, Abhandlung vom Ursprunge und Alter der Musik, insonderheit der Vokalmusik (Altona and Flensburg, repr. 1754; repr. Leipzig, 1987), 5.

humanity, when we want to accept, with certain ancient writers, that man learnt to sing from birds or that music is an art of mimicry. The eternal sameness of birdsong is so wearisome that people could have lapsed into imitating it only in certain comical hours. The swallow in our gutters twitters now as it did in Adam's day; . . . and yet what endless variety man has brought to

composition.47

In dismissing the model of birdsong, Schubart espoused the prevailing later eighteenth-century theory of the origins of music. In Eximeno's words, 'man possess[es] within himself the origin of music, which ...

proceeds from instinct, as does language'.48 Forkel made an almost identical point: 'Music ... is the language of our hearts, and everyone brings the germ of it with them into the world.'49 Music, then, was still rooted in nature, but now in human nature, not in the natural world: 'music is an art grounded in the nature of mankind', Sulzer wrote.50

The notion that music was an innate language of human passion can be traced to theories of ancient music formulated by the Florentine Camerata. In a letter to Vincenzo Galilei of 8 May 1572, Girolamo Mei wrote that 'nature gave a voice to animals and especially to man for the

expression of inner states'.51 In the eighteenth century, the idea that music is innate is met as early as Der critische Musikus of 1737, in which Scheibe stated that 'from the very beginning, [music] existed in the soul or nature of mankind'.52 The notion received additional impetus from Rousseau's remarks on music in the 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', and here, as in Eximeno's Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, it was most

47 'Die Tonkunst ist so alt als die Welt. Man konnte ebenso wohl den Menschen ein singendes Geschopf als mit Aristoteles ein redendes Geschopf nennen. Alle Menschen werden mit einer Anlage zum Gesang geboren.... Es ist also kindisch und ganz und gar gegen die Wurde der Menschheit, wenn man mit einigen alten musikalischen Geschichtsschreibern annehmen wollte, der Mensch hatte das Singen von den V6geln gelernt oder Musik sei nachahmende Kunst. Das ewige Einerlei des Vogelgesanges ist zu ermudend, als daB die Menschen anders als in gewissen launigen Stunden auf die Nachahmung desselben verfallen konnten. Die Schwalbe auf unserer Dachrinne zwitschert noch heute wie zu Adams Zeiten;... Hingegen welche unendliche Veranderung hat die Tonkunst unter dem Menschengeschlechte erlitten!' Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna, 1806; repr. Leipzig, 1977), 35.

' Antonio Eximeno, Dell' origine e delle regole della musica (Rome, 1774; repr. Hildesheim, 1983), cited from Ladson John Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la mfisica": Introduction, Commentary, and Translation' (Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1992), 114. On the development in France of this theory of music as a natural language of the passions see Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, ch. 2. An early appearance of this theory in Germany was in Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung, 3.

49 'Die Musik ... ist die Sprache unsers Herzens, und den Keim derselben bringt jeder Mensch, bey seinem Eintritt in diese Welt, mit sich.' Johann Nicolaus Forkel, Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1788), i, 69.

5 '[Die Musik] ist also eine Kunst, die in der Natur des Menschen gegriindet ist.' Sulzer, Allgemeine Theorie, ii, 266.

'5 Translated in Claude V. Palisca, The Florentine Camerata: Documentary Studies and Trans- lations (New Haven, 1989), 56-77 (p. 57). I am grateful to Claude Palisca for drawing my attention to this letter.

" 'Er liegt also schon von Anbeginn in der Seele oder in der Natur des Menschen.' Cited from Johann Adolph Scheibe's later discussion of music's origin, Abhandlung vom Ursprunge und Alter der Musik, insonderheit der Vokalmusik (Altona and Flensburg, repr. 1754; repr. Leipzig, 1987), 5.

humanity, when we want to accept, with certain ancient writers, that man learnt to sing from birds or that music is an art of mimicry. The eternal sameness of birdsong is so wearisome that people could have lapsed into imitating it only in certain comical hours. The swallow in our gutters twitters now as it did in Adam's day; . . . and yet what endless variety man has brought to

composition.47

In dismissing the model of birdsong, Schubart espoused the prevailing later eighteenth-century theory of the origins of music. In Eximeno's words, 'man possess[es] within himself the origin of music, which ...

proceeds from instinct, as does language'.48 Forkel made an almost identical point: 'Music ... is the language of our hearts, and everyone brings the germ of it with them into the world.'49 Music, then, was still rooted in nature, but now in human nature, not in the natural world: 'music is an art grounded in the nature of mankind', Sulzer wrote.50

The notion that music was an innate language of human passion can be traced to theories of ancient music formulated by the Florentine Camerata. In a letter to Vincenzo Galilei of 8 May 1572, Girolamo Mei wrote that 'nature gave a voice to animals and especially to man for the

expression of inner states'.51 In the eighteenth century, the idea that music is innate is met as early as Der critische Musikus of 1737, in which Scheibe stated that 'from the very beginning, [music] existed in the soul or nature of mankind'.52 The notion received additional impetus from Rousseau's remarks on music in the 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', and here, as in Eximeno's Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, it was most

47 'Die Tonkunst ist so alt als die Welt. Man konnte ebenso wohl den Menschen ein singendes Geschopf als mit Aristoteles ein redendes Geschopf nennen. Alle Menschen werden mit einer Anlage zum Gesang geboren.... Es ist also kindisch und ganz und gar gegen die Wurde der Menschheit, wenn man mit einigen alten musikalischen Geschichtsschreibern annehmen wollte, der Mensch hatte das Singen von den V6geln gelernt oder Musik sei nachahmende Kunst. Das ewige Einerlei des Vogelgesanges ist zu ermudend, als daB die Menschen anders als in gewissen launigen Stunden auf die Nachahmung desselben verfallen konnten. Die Schwalbe auf unserer Dachrinne zwitschert noch heute wie zu Adams Zeiten;... Hingegen welche unendliche Veranderung hat die Tonkunst unter dem Menschengeschlechte erlitten!' Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna, 1806; repr. Leipzig, 1977), 35.

' Antonio Eximeno, Dell' origine e delle regole della musica (Rome, 1774; repr. Hildesheim, 1983), cited from Ladson John Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la mfisica": Introduction, Commentary, and Translation' (Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1992), 114. On the development in France of this theory of music as a natural language of the passions see Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, ch. 2. An early appearance of this theory in Germany was in Marpurg, Kritische Einleitung, 3.

49 'Die Musik ... ist die Sprache unsers Herzens, und den Keim derselben bringt jeder Mensch, bey seinem Eintritt in diese Welt, mit sich.' Johann Nicolaus Forkel, Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1788), i, 69.

5 '[Die Musik] ist also eine Kunst, die in der Natur des Menschen gegriindet ist.' Sulzer, Allgemeine Theorie, ii, 266.

'5 Translated in Claude V. Palisca, The Florentine Camerata: Documentary Studies and Trans- lations (New Haven, 1989), 56-77 (p. 57). I am grateful to Claude Palisca for drawing my attention to this letter.

" 'Er liegt also schon von Anbeginn in der Seele oder in der Natur des Menschen.' Cited from Johann Adolph Scheibe's later discussion of music's origin, Abhandlung vom Ursprunge und Alter der Musik, insonderheit der Vokalmusik (Altona and Flensburg, repr. 1754; repr. Leipzig, 1987), 5.

17 17 17 17 17

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

fully articulated in the critique of music as mathematics and propor- tion.53 In the view ofJean-Philippe Rameau, Rousseau's principal target, music possessed within itself the secret of its origin, for Rameau derived the primary consonances, chords and motions of the fundamental bass from the overtone series. Thus melody arises from harmony, the perpetual, sonorous embodiment of music's reflexive origin and genera- tion in the vibrations of the son fondamental.54 For Rousseau, however, harmony insinuates itself at the site of an original union of speech and melody, it 'separates song and speech to such an extent that these two languages contend, thwart one another, deprive one another of any truth'.55 With characteristic ingenuity, Rousseau argued that harmony, grounded in the overtone series as described by Rameau, is unnatural, for 'by nature there is no other harmony than unison':

A sound carries with it all of its accompanying overtones. ... Add to it the third or fifth or some other consonant interval ... by emphasising one con- sonant interval and not the others, you upset the proportion. By trying to do better than nature you do worse.56

This theory of music as a natural human language had profound con- sequences for the writing of the earliest phases of musical history. The mythical and legendary figures of the discourse on the origins of music receded. Rousseau allowed his readers a glimpse of the earlier anecdotes, fables and speculations only to usher them from the historiographical stage:

We generally suppose, that the word music is derived from musa, because we believe that the muses have invented this art; but Kircher, after Diodorus, derives this word from an Aegyptian name, pretending, that it was in Aegypt that music began first to establish itself after the deluge, and the first idea of the sound was received by the reeds which grew on the banks of the Nile, when the wind blew in the hollow of their pipes. Whatever may be the etymology of this word, the origin of the art is certainly more applicable to mankind; and if the words did not begin with the air, it is at least certain, that wherever we speak, we sing.57

For Forkel, the notion that music is innate did away with the question of origin altogether, for people had simply never been without music,

" Cf. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, where discourse on music's origin is set primarily in the context of linguistic and anthropological theorizing. Yet discussions of music's origin were also acted out against traditions of music theory. This is particularly clear with Eximeno, who bolstered his theory of music as instinct, language, expression, through a twofold critique of music as number. On the one hand he pointed to computational and inductive errors in the discourse on music and mathematics. On the other, he questioned that mathematical ratios were anything more than 'accidental' to music because they 'do not serve as a norm by which perfection for that object is achieved' (Eximeno, Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, trans. Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la musica" ', 114). Mathematics, then, was inadequate to explain why music pleases, moves, and is beautiful. Discourse on the origins of music had thus belatedly registered music's historical movement from the quadrivium to the trivium, as Thomas also notes (Music and the Origins of Language, 23). 5

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Traiti de I'harmonie riduite a ses principes naturels, 4 vols. (Paris, 1722), ch. 3.

"5 Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses, ed. and trans. Gourevitch, 282.

' Ibid., 281. On the Rameau-Rousseau controversy see Cynthia Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment: Reconstruction of a Dialogue 1750-1764 (Oxford, 1993). 57 Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary, trans. Waring, 257.

fully articulated in the critique of music as mathematics and propor- tion.53 In the view ofJean-Philippe Rameau, Rousseau's principal target, music possessed within itself the secret of its origin, for Rameau derived the primary consonances, chords and motions of the fundamental bass from the overtone series. Thus melody arises from harmony, the perpetual, sonorous embodiment of music's reflexive origin and genera- tion in the vibrations of the son fondamental.54 For Rousseau, however, harmony insinuates itself at the site of an original union of speech and melody, it 'separates song and speech to such an extent that these two languages contend, thwart one another, deprive one another of any truth'.55 With characteristic ingenuity, Rousseau argued that harmony, grounded in the overtone series as described by Rameau, is unnatural, for 'by nature there is no other harmony than unison':

A sound carries with it all of its accompanying overtones. ... Add to it the third or fifth or some other consonant interval ... by emphasising one con- sonant interval and not the others, you upset the proportion. By trying to do better than nature you do worse.56

This theory of music as a natural human language had profound con- sequences for the writing of the earliest phases of musical history. The mythical and legendary figures of the discourse on the origins of music receded. Rousseau allowed his readers a glimpse of the earlier anecdotes, fables and speculations only to usher them from the historiographical stage:

We generally suppose, that the word music is derived from musa, because we believe that the muses have invented this art; but Kircher, after Diodorus, derives this word from an Aegyptian name, pretending, that it was in Aegypt that music began first to establish itself after the deluge, and the first idea of the sound was received by the reeds which grew on the banks of the Nile, when the wind blew in the hollow of their pipes. Whatever may be the etymology of this word, the origin of the art is certainly more applicable to mankind; and if the words did not begin with the air, it is at least certain, that wherever we speak, we sing.57

For Forkel, the notion that music is innate did away with the question of origin altogether, for people had simply never been without music,

" Cf. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, where discourse on music's origin is set primarily in the context of linguistic and anthropological theorizing. Yet discussions of music's origin were also acted out against traditions of music theory. This is particularly clear with Eximeno, who bolstered his theory of music as instinct, language, expression, through a twofold critique of music as number. On the one hand he pointed to computational and inductive errors in the discourse on music and mathematics. On the other, he questioned that mathematical ratios were anything more than 'accidental' to music because they 'do not serve as a norm by which perfection for that object is achieved' (Eximeno, Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, trans. Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la musica" ', 114). Mathematics, then, was inadequate to explain why music pleases, moves, and is beautiful. Discourse on the origins of music had thus belatedly registered music's historical movement from the quadrivium to the trivium, as Thomas also notes (Music and the Origins of Language, 23). 5

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Traiti de I'harmonie riduite a ses principes naturels, 4 vols. (Paris, 1722), ch. 3.

"5 Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses, ed. and trans. Gourevitch, 282.

' Ibid., 281. On the Rameau-Rousseau controversy see Cynthia Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment: Reconstruction of a Dialogue 1750-1764 (Oxford, 1993). 57 Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary, trans. Waring, 257.

fully articulated in the critique of music as mathematics and propor- tion.53 In the view ofJean-Philippe Rameau, Rousseau's principal target, music possessed within itself the secret of its origin, for Rameau derived the primary consonances, chords and motions of the fundamental bass from the overtone series. Thus melody arises from harmony, the perpetual, sonorous embodiment of music's reflexive origin and genera- tion in the vibrations of the son fondamental.54 For Rousseau, however, harmony insinuates itself at the site of an original union of speech and melody, it 'separates song and speech to such an extent that these two languages contend, thwart one another, deprive one another of any truth'.55 With characteristic ingenuity, Rousseau argued that harmony, grounded in the overtone series as described by Rameau, is unnatural, for 'by nature there is no other harmony than unison':

A sound carries with it all of its accompanying overtones. ... Add to it the third or fifth or some other consonant interval ... by emphasising one con- sonant interval and not the others, you upset the proportion. By trying to do better than nature you do worse.56

This theory of music as a natural human language had profound con- sequences for the writing of the earliest phases of musical history. The mythical and legendary figures of the discourse on the origins of music receded. Rousseau allowed his readers a glimpse of the earlier anecdotes, fables and speculations only to usher them from the historiographical stage:

We generally suppose, that the word music is derived from musa, because we believe that the muses have invented this art; but Kircher, after Diodorus, derives this word from an Aegyptian name, pretending, that it was in Aegypt that music began first to establish itself after the deluge, and the first idea of the sound was received by the reeds which grew on the banks of the Nile, when the wind blew in the hollow of their pipes. Whatever may be the etymology of this word, the origin of the art is certainly more applicable to mankind; and if the words did not begin with the air, it is at least certain, that wherever we speak, we sing.57

For Forkel, the notion that music is innate did away with the question of origin altogether, for people had simply never been without music,

" Cf. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, where discourse on music's origin is set primarily in the context of linguistic and anthropological theorizing. Yet discussions of music's origin were also acted out against traditions of music theory. This is particularly clear with Eximeno, who bolstered his theory of music as instinct, language, expression, through a twofold critique of music as number. On the one hand he pointed to computational and inductive errors in the discourse on music and mathematics. On the other, he questioned that mathematical ratios were anything more than 'accidental' to music because they 'do not serve as a norm by which perfection for that object is achieved' (Eximeno, Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, trans. Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la musica" ', 114). Mathematics, then, was inadequate to explain why music pleases, moves, and is beautiful. Discourse on the origins of music had thus belatedly registered music's historical movement from the quadrivium to the trivium, as Thomas also notes (Music and the Origins of Language, 23). 5

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Traiti de I'harmonie riduite a ses principes naturels, 4 vols. (Paris, 1722), ch. 3.

"5 Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses, ed. and trans. Gourevitch, 282.

' Ibid., 281. On the Rameau-Rousseau controversy see Cynthia Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment: Reconstruction of a Dialogue 1750-1764 (Oxford, 1993). 57 Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary, trans. Waring, 257.

fully articulated in the critique of music as mathematics and propor- tion.53 In the view ofJean-Philippe Rameau, Rousseau's principal target, music possessed within itself the secret of its origin, for Rameau derived the primary consonances, chords and motions of the fundamental bass from the overtone series. Thus melody arises from harmony, the perpetual, sonorous embodiment of music's reflexive origin and genera- tion in the vibrations of the son fondamental.54 For Rousseau, however, harmony insinuates itself at the site of an original union of speech and melody, it 'separates song and speech to such an extent that these two languages contend, thwart one another, deprive one another of any truth'.55 With characteristic ingenuity, Rousseau argued that harmony, grounded in the overtone series as described by Rameau, is unnatural, for 'by nature there is no other harmony than unison':

A sound carries with it all of its accompanying overtones. ... Add to it the third or fifth or some other consonant interval ... by emphasising one con- sonant interval and not the others, you upset the proportion. By trying to do better than nature you do worse.56

This theory of music as a natural human language had profound con- sequences for the writing of the earliest phases of musical history. The mythical and legendary figures of the discourse on the origins of music receded. Rousseau allowed his readers a glimpse of the earlier anecdotes, fables and speculations only to usher them from the historiographical stage:

We generally suppose, that the word music is derived from musa, because we believe that the muses have invented this art; but Kircher, after Diodorus, derives this word from an Aegyptian name, pretending, that it was in Aegypt that music began first to establish itself after the deluge, and the first idea of the sound was received by the reeds which grew on the banks of the Nile, when the wind blew in the hollow of their pipes. Whatever may be the etymology of this word, the origin of the art is certainly more applicable to mankind; and if the words did not begin with the air, it is at least certain, that wherever we speak, we sing.57

For Forkel, the notion that music is innate did away with the question of origin altogether, for people had simply never been without music,

" Cf. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, where discourse on music's origin is set primarily in the context of linguistic and anthropological theorizing. Yet discussions of music's origin were also acted out against traditions of music theory. This is particularly clear with Eximeno, who bolstered his theory of music as instinct, language, expression, through a twofold critique of music as number. On the one hand he pointed to computational and inductive errors in the discourse on music and mathematics. On the other, he questioned that mathematical ratios were anything more than 'accidental' to music because they 'do not serve as a norm by which perfection for that object is achieved' (Eximeno, Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, trans. Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la musica" ', 114). Mathematics, then, was inadequate to explain why music pleases, moves, and is beautiful. Discourse on the origins of music had thus belatedly registered music's historical movement from the quadrivium to the trivium, as Thomas also notes (Music and the Origins of Language, 23). 5

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Traiti de I'harmonie riduite a ses principes naturels, 4 vols. (Paris, 1722), ch. 3.

"5 Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses, ed. and trans. Gourevitch, 282.

' Ibid., 281. On the Rameau-Rousseau controversy see Cynthia Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment: Reconstruction of a Dialogue 1750-1764 (Oxford, 1993). 57 Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary, trans. Waring, 257.

fully articulated in the critique of music as mathematics and propor- tion.53 In the view ofJean-Philippe Rameau, Rousseau's principal target, music possessed within itself the secret of its origin, for Rameau derived the primary consonances, chords and motions of the fundamental bass from the overtone series. Thus melody arises from harmony, the perpetual, sonorous embodiment of music's reflexive origin and genera- tion in the vibrations of the son fondamental.54 For Rousseau, however, harmony insinuates itself at the site of an original union of speech and melody, it 'separates song and speech to such an extent that these two languages contend, thwart one another, deprive one another of any truth'.55 With characteristic ingenuity, Rousseau argued that harmony, grounded in the overtone series as described by Rameau, is unnatural, for 'by nature there is no other harmony than unison':

A sound carries with it all of its accompanying overtones. ... Add to it the third or fifth or some other consonant interval ... by emphasising one con- sonant interval and not the others, you upset the proportion. By trying to do better than nature you do worse.56

This theory of music as a natural human language had profound con- sequences for the writing of the earliest phases of musical history. The mythical and legendary figures of the discourse on the origins of music receded. Rousseau allowed his readers a glimpse of the earlier anecdotes, fables and speculations only to usher them from the historiographical stage:

We generally suppose, that the word music is derived from musa, because we believe that the muses have invented this art; but Kircher, after Diodorus, derives this word from an Aegyptian name, pretending, that it was in Aegypt that music began first to establish itself after the deluge, and the first idea of the sound was received by the reeds which grew on the banks of the Nile, when the wind blew in the hollow of their pipes. Whatever may be the etymology of this word, the origin of the art is certainly more applicable to mankind; and if the words did not begin with the air, it is at least certain, that wherever we speak, we sing.57

For Forkel, the notion that music is innate did away with the question of origin altogether, for people had simply never been without music,

" Cf. Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, where discourse on music's origin is set primarily in the context of linguistic and anthropological theorizing. Yet discussions of music's origin were also acted out against traditions of music theory. This is particularly clear with Eximeno, who bolstered his theory of music as instinct, language, expression, through a twofold critique of music as number. On the one hand he pointed to computational and inductive errors in the discourse on music and mathematics. On the other, he questioned that mathematical ratios were anything more than 'accidental' to music because they 'do not serve as a norm by which perfection for that object is achieved' (Eximeno, Dell'origine e delle regole della musica, trans. Saylor, 'Antonio Eximeno's "Del origen y reglas de la musica" ', 114). Mathematics, then, was inadequate to explain why music pleases, moves, and is beautiful. Discourse on the origins of music had thus belatedly registered music's historical movement from the quadrivium to the trivium, as Thomas also notes (Music and the Origins of Language, 23). 5

Jean-Philippe Rameau, Traiti de I'harmonie riduite a ses principes naturels, 4 vols. (Paris, 1722), ch. 3.

"5 Rousseau, 'Essay on the Origin of Languages', The First and Second Discourses, ed. and trans. Gourevitch, 282.

' Ibid., 281. On the Rameau-Rousseau controversy see Cynthia Verba, Music and the French Enlightenment: Reconstruction of a Dialogue 1750-1764 (Oxford, 1993). 57 Rousseau, A Complete Dictionary, trans. Waring, 257.

18 18 18 18 18

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

and thus to speak of its invention was misleading: 'the invention [of music] was nothing but the first discovery of this innate propensity.... The so-called inventors were nothing but the first practitioners of the art.'58 And from this vantage-point Forkel was able to complicate the terms 'in- vention' and 'discovery' with quotation marks, throwing into relief their

origin in the discourses of science and exploratory navigation, and

highlighting their dubious relevance to a discussion of the arts in the earliest phases of human civilization.

In positing that music is innate, writers did not categorically or

necessarily break with the earlier view that music was a gift from God. Schubart, who spoke of people's innate propensity for music, also des- cribed music as a divine gift and a God-given talent.59 In the case of Schubart, then, the relationship between the tropes of divine creation, imitation and self-expression differed from that in Rousseau and Blain- ville. In expounding theories of music as self-expression, language, com- munication, Rousseau and Blainville set theology aside, across a

disciplinary boundary, and developed their own anthropological visions of music in the earliest phases of human civilization.6

THE EMPEROR AND THE NIGHTINGALE

With its banishment from discourse on the origins of music, birdsong found a new niche in aesthetic thought. Birdsong became with Kant the emblem of a type of beauty, or better sublimity, that lay outside the realm of art, glimpsed by us, yet beyond our full comprehension, and so at once the object of ridicule and longing. Even the banishment of birdsong from discourse on music's origin had been less than successful or complete. Schubart, having declared the idea that people learnt melody from the birds to be 'childish', none the less (re)ascribed the origin of diatonic

melody to songbirds in observing that 'birdsong indeed contains the seven notes: but what man has done with them!'61 Schubart did not

ultimately banish but only aesthetically discredited birdsong, derisively declaring it to be eternally the same, while composition is endlessly varied.62

For Kant and Laborde, however, birdsong was not the unvaried, monotonous source of the diatonic scale but something fabulously in- tricate that worked on entirely different principles. Laborde stressed the unintelligibility of birdsong: 'humans ... can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by prac- tice'. From the standpoint of the Kantian mathematical sublime, this intervallic unintelligibility was the subject of wonderment. What for

5 'Erste Erfundung ist nichts als erste Entdeckung dieses angebornen Triebes gewesens. ... Die sogenannten ersten Erfinder sind nur erste Ausiiber der Kiinste gewesen.' Forkel, Allge- meine Geschichte, table of contents, ch. 1, sections 2 and 6.

Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35. 60 Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, 47-56. 61 'Die sieben T6ne liegen zwar auch in der Kehle der Vogel; aber was hat der Mensch aus

diesen sieben T6nen gemacht!' Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35-6. 62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47).

and thus to speak of its invention was misleading: 'the invention [of music] was nothing but the first discovery of this innate propensity.... The so-called inventors were nothing but the first practitioners of the art.'58 And from this vantage-point Forkel was able to complicate the terms 'in- vention' and 'discovery' with quotation marks, throwing into relief their

origin in the discourses of science and exploratory navigation, and

highlighting their dubious relevance to a discussion of the arts in the earliest phases of human civilization.

In positing that music is innate, writers did not categorically or

necessarily break with the earlier view that music was a gift from God. Schubart, who spoke of people's innate propensity for music, also des- cribed music as a divine gift and a God-given talent.59 In the case of Schubart, then, the relationship between the tropes of divine creation, imitation and self-expression differed from that in Rousseau and Blain- ville. In expounding theories of music as self-expression, language, com- munication, Rousseau and Blainville set theology aside, across a

disciplinary boundary, and developed their own anthropological visions of music in the earliest phases of human civilization.6

THE EMPEROR AND THE NIGHTINGALE

With its banishment from discourse on the origins of music, birdsong found a new niche in aesthetic thought. Birdsong became with Kant the emblem of a type of beauty, or better sublimity, that lay outside the realm of art, glimpsed by us, yet beyond our full comprehension, and so at once the object of ridicule and longing. Even the banishment of birdsong from discourse on music's origin had been less than successful or complete. Schubart, having declared the idea that people learnt melody from the birds to be 'childish', none the less (re)ascribed the origin of diatonic

melody to songbirds in observing that 'birdsong indeed contains the seven notes: but what man has done with them!'61 Schubart did not

ultimately banish but only aesthetically discredited birdsong, derisively declaring it to be eternally the same, while composition is endlessly varied.62

For Kant and Laborde, however, birdsong was not the unvaried, monotonous source of the diatonic scale but something fabulously in- tricate that worked on entirely different principles. Laborde stressed the unintelligibility of birdsong: 'humans ... can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by prac- tice'. From the standpoint of the Kantian mathematical sublime, this intervallic unintelligibility was the subject of wonderment. What for

5 'Erste Erfundung ist nichts als erste Entdeckung dieses angebornen Triebes gewesens. ... Die sogenannten ersten Erfinder sind nur erste Ausiiber der Kiinste gewesen.' Forkel, Allge- meine Geschichte, table of contents, ch. 1, sections 2 and 6.

Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35. 60 Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, 47-56. 61 'Die sieben T6ne liegen zwar auch in der Kehle der Vogel; aber was hat der Mensch aus

diesen sieben T6nen gemacht!' Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35-6. 62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47).

and thus to speak of its invention was misleading: 'the invention [of music] was nothing but the first discovery of this innate propensity.... The so-called inventors were nothing but the first practitioners of the art.'58 And from this vantage-point Forkel was able to complicate the terms 'in- vention' and 'discovery' with quotation marks, throwing into relief their

origin in the discourses of science and exploratory navigation, and

highlighting their dubious relevance to a discussion of the arts in the earliest phases of human civilization.

In positing that music is innate, writers did not categorically or

necessarily break with the earlier view that music was a gift from God. Schubart, who spoke of people's innate propensity for music, also des- cribed music as a divine gift and a God-given talent.59 In the case of Schubart, then, the relationship between the tropes of divine creation, imitation and self-expression differed from that in Rousseau and Blain- ville. In expounding theories of music as self-expression, language, com- munication, Rousseau and Blainville set theology aside, across a

disciplinary boundary, and developed their own anthropological visions of music in the earliest phases of human civilization.6

THE EMPEROR AND THE NIGHTINGALE

With its banishment from discourse on the origins of music, birdsong found a new niche in aesthetic thought. Birdsong became with Kant the emblem of a type of beauty, or better sublimity, that lay outside the realm of art, glimpsed by us, yet beyond our full comprehension, and so at once the object of ridicule and longing. Even the banishment of birdsong from discourse on music's origin had been less than successful or complete. Schubart, having declared the idea that people learnt melody from the birds to be 'childish', none the less (re)ascribed the origin of diatonic

melody to songbirds in observing that 'birdsong indeed contains the seven notes: but what man has done with them!'61 Schubart did not

ultimately banish but only aesthetically discredited birdsong, derisively declaring it to be eternally the same, while composition is endlessly varied.62

For Kant and Laborde, however, birdsong was not the unvaried, monotonous source of the diatonic scale but something fabulously in- tricate that worked on entirely different principles. Laborde stressed the unintelligibility of birdsong: 'humans ... can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by prac- tice'. From the standpoint of the Kantian mathematical sublime, this intervallic unintelligibility was the subject of wonderment. What for

5 'Erste Erfundung ist nichts als erste Entdeckung dieses angebornen Triebes gewesens. ... Die sogenannten ersten Erfinder sind nur erste Ausiiber der Kiinste gewesen.' Forkel, Allge- meine Geschichte, table of contents, ch. 1, sections 2 and 6.

Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35. 60 Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, 47-56. 61 'Die sieben T6ne liegen zwar auch in der Kehle der Vogel; aber was hat der Mensch aus

diesen sieben T6nen gemacht!' Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35-6. 62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47).

and thus to speak of its invention was misleading: 'the invention [of music] was nothing but the first discovery of this innate propensity.... The so-called inventors were nothing but the first practitioners of the art.'58 And from this vantage-point Forkel was able to complicate the terms 'in- vention' and 'discovery' with quotation marks, throwing into relief their

origin in the discourses of science and exploratory navigation, and

highlighting their dubious relevance to a discussion of the arts in the earliest phases of human civilization.

In positing that music is innate, writers did not categorically or

necessarily break with the earlier view that music was a gift from God. Schubart, who spoke of people's innate propensity for music, also des- cribed music as a divine gift and a God-given talent.59 In the case of Schubart, then, the relationship between the tropes of divine creation, imitation and self-expression differed from that in Rousseau and Blain- ville. In expounding theories of music as self-expression, language, com- munication, Rousseau and Blainville set theology aside, across a

disciplinary boundary, and developed their own anthropological visions of music in the earliest phases of human civilization.6

THE EMPEROR AND THE NIGHTINGALE

With its banishment from discourse on the origins of music, birdsong found a new niche in aesthetic thought. Birdsong became with Kant the emblem of a type of beauty, or better sublimity, that lay outside the realm of art, glimpsed by us, yet beyond our full comprehension, and so at once the object of ridicule and longing. Even the banishment of birdsong from discourse on music's origin had been less than successful or complete. Schubart, having declared the idea that people learnt melody from the birds to be 'childish', none the less (re)ascribed the origin of diatonic

melody to songbirds in observing that 'birdsong indeed contains the seven notes: but what man has done with them!'61 Schubart did not

ultimately banish but only aesthetically discredited birdsong, derisively declaring it to be eternally the same, while composition is endlessly varied.62

For Kant and Laborde, however, birdsong was not the unvaried, monotonous source of the diatonic scale but something fabulously in- tricate that worked on entirely different principles. Laborde stressed the unintelligibility of birdsong: 'humans ... can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by prac- tice'. From the standpoint of the Kantian mathematical sublime, this intervallic unintelligibility was the subject of wonderment. What for

5 'Erste Erfundung ist nichts als erste Entdeckung dieses angebornen Triebes gewesens. ... Die sogenannten ersten Erfinder sind nur erste Ausiiber der Kiinste gewesen.' Forkel, Allge- meine Geschichte, table of contents, ch. 1, sections 2 and 6.

Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35. 60 Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, 47-56. 61 'Die sieben T6ne liegen zwar auch in der Kehle der Vogel; aber was hat der Mensch aus

diesen sieben T6nen gemacht!' Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35-6. 62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47).

and thus to speak of its invention was misleading: 'the invention [of music] was nothing but the first discovery of this innate propensity.... The so-called inventors were nothing but the first practitioners of the art.'58 And from this vantage-point Forkel was able to complicate the terms 'in- vention' and 'discovery' with quotation marks, throwing into relief their

origin in the discourses of science and exploratory navigation, and

highlighting their dubious relevance to a discussion of the arts in the earliest phases of human civilization.

In positing that music is innate, writers did not categorically or

necessarily break with the earlier view that music was a gift from God. Schubart, who spoke of people's innate propensity for music, also des- cribed music as a divine gift and a God-given talent.59 In the case of Schubart, then, the relationship between the tropes of divine creation, imitation and self-expression differed from that in Rousseau and Blain- ville. In expounding theories of music as self-expression, language, com- munication, Rousseau and Blainville set theology aside, across a

disciplinary boundary, and developed their own anthropological visions of music in the earliest phases of human civilization.6

THE EMPEROR AND THE NIGHTINGALE

With its banishment from discourse on the origins of music, birdsong found a new niche in aesthetic thought. Birdsong became with Kant the emblem of a type of beauty, or better sublimity, that lay outside the realm of art, glimpsed by us, yet beyond our full comprehension, and so at once the object of ridicule and longing. Even the banishment of birdsong from discourse on music's origin had been less than successful or complete. Schubart, having declared the idea that people learnt melody from the birds to be 'childish', none the less (re)ascribed the origin of diatonic

melody to songbirds in observing that 'birdsong indeed contains the seven notes: but what man has done with them!'61 Schubart did not

ultimately banish but only aesthetically discredited birdsong, derisively declaring it to be eternally the same, while composition is endlessly varied.62

For Kant and Laborde, however, birdsong was not the unvaried, monotonous source of the diatonic scale but something fabulously in- tricate that worked on entirely different principles. Laborde stressed the unintelligibility of birdsong: 'humans ... can form a judgment about the majority of the intervals in birdsong neither by theory nor by prac- tice'. From the standpoint of the Kantian mathematical sublime, this intervallic unintelligibility was the subject of wonderment. What for

5 'Erste Erfundung ist nichts als erste Entdeckung dieses angebornen Triebes gewesens. ... Die sogenannten ersten Erfinder sind nur erste Ausiiber der Kiinste gewesen.' Forkel, Allge- meine Geschichte, table of contents, ch. 1, sections 2 and 6.

Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35. 60 Thomas, Music and the Origins of Language, 47-56. 61 'Die sieben T6ne liegen zwar auch in der Kehle der Vogel; aber was hat der Mensch aus

diesen sieben T6nen gemacht!' Schubart, Ideen zu einer Asthetik, 35-6. 62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47).

19 19 19 19 19

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

Laborde was an inability to form a judgment' of birdsong's intervals could be regarded in Kantian terms as a sublime suspension of rational com-

prehension. To gloss Laborde's notion of intervallic unintelligibility in terms of the mathematical sublime: birdsong invites comprehension in terms of number or interval but exceeds the capacity of the human sub-

ject to comprehend the magnitude and measurement of that number.

Birdsong is a form of infinity. Conceived (or rather - as a sublime phenomenon - not conceived)

in these terms, birdsong is subject in The Critique ofJudgment (1790) to an ambivalent valuation as an incalculable song, irreducible to rules. For Kant, birdsong fell outside, even below the standards of art, and yet its

perceived asymmetry and wildness have the power to bring about a dis- illusionment with art: to make composed music seem staid, artificial, repetitive. This disillusionment is to some extent a rhetorical injunction for artists to avoid rule-bound composition. But its consequences go beyond the valorization of genius to an indictment of the aesthetic

category of the beautiful. Birdsong opens up something more complex, wild and unfathomable than the beautiful which is construed, in a moment of dysphoria, as a form of imprisonment to imposed regulations, and thus anathema to the project of Enlightenment:

Nature [is] subject to no constraint of artificial rules.... Even a bird's song, which we can reduce to no musical rule, seems to have more freedom in it, and thus to be richer for taste, than the human voice singing in accordance with all the rules that the art of music prescribes; for we grow tired much sooner of the frequent and lengthy repetitions of the latter.63

With this remark, Kant spoke to Schubart's disparagement of birdsong's monotonous repetitions, turning the accusation around by suggesting that it is music, not birdsong, that sounds eternally the same. At stake here is not repetition in and of itself, but the 'laboured effect' and 'academic form' that the artist must avoid.64 Birdsong was thus for Kant a positive point of reference in the rejection of what Coleridge called mechanical form. As an apparently spontaneous effusion of joy, it sustained the illusion of unfettered creation that Kant demanded of art. And yet, as we have seen with Schubart, birdsong could not stand as a model of an emergent aesthetic of organicism because of a perceived lack of variety. Paradoxically, birdsong could create just the mechanical, repetitive effect from which Kant imagined it free.

Kant's is perhaps the first exposition of a theme of birdsong and dis- illusionment with art that is hauntingly retold in Andersen's fairy-tale 'The

Nightingale'.5 Andersen's political allegory of the human spirit under

62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47). 63 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgement, ed. and trans. James Creed Meredith, 2 vols.

(Oxford, 1911), i, 89. 4 Ibid., 167. Kant's use of the term 'laboured' introduces, as anathema, the vocabulary of

work or labour into aesthetic discourse. This may tie in with his rejection of mechanical form in art, at a time when production was increasingly subject to mechanical manufacturing processes.

65 Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Nightingale', Stories and Fairy Tales, trans. H. Oskar Som- mer, 2 vols. (London, 1893), i, 1-11.

Laborde was an inability to form a judgment' of birdsong's intervals could be regarded in Kantian terms as a sublime suspension of rational com-

prehension. To gloss Laborde's notion of intervallic unintelligibility in terms of the mathematical sublime: birdsong invites comprehension in terms of number or interval but exceeds the capacity of the human sub-

ject to comprehend the magnitude and measurement of that number.

Birdsong is a form of infinity. Conceived (or rather - as a sublime phenomenon - not conceived)

in these terms, birdsong is subject in The Critique ofJudgment (1790) to an ambivalent valuation as an incalculable song, irreducible to rules. For Kant, birdsong fell outside, even below the standards of art, and yet its

perceived asymmetry and wildness have the power to bring about a dis- illusionment with art: to make composed music seem staid, artificial, repetitive. This disillusionment is to some extent a rhetorical injunction for artists to avoid rule-bound composition. But its consequences go beyond the valorization of genius to an indictment of the aesthetic

category of the beautiful. Birdsong opens up something more complex, wild and unfathomable than the beautiful which is construed, in a moment of dysphoria, as a form of imprisonment to imposed regulations, and thus anathema to the project of Enlightenment:

Nature [is] subject to no constraint of artificial rules.... Even a bird's song, which we can reduce to no musical rule, seems to have more freedom in it, and thus to be richer for taste, than the human voice singing in accordance with all the rules that the art of music prescribes; for we grow tired much sooner of the frequent and lengthy repetitions of the latter.63

With this remark, Kant spoke to Schubart's disparagement of birdsong's monotonous repetitions, turning the accusation around by suggesting that it is music, not birdsong, that sounds eternally the same. At stake here is not repetition in and of itself, but the 'laboured effect' and 'academic form' that the artist must avoid.64 Birdsong was thus for Kant a positive point of reference in the rejection of what Coleridge called mechanical form. As an apparently spontaneous effusion of joy, it sustained the illusion of unfettered creation that Kant demanded of art. And yet, as we have seen with Schubart, birdsong could not stand as a model of an emergent aesthetic of organicism because of a perceived lack of variety. Paradoxically, birdsong could create just the mechanical, repetitive effect from which Kant imagined it free.

Kant's is perhaps the first exposition of a theme of birdsong and dis- illusionment with art that is hauntingly retold in Andersen's fairy-tale 'The

Nightingale'.5 Andersen's political allegory of the human spirit under

62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47). 63 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgement, ed. and trans. James Creed Meredith, 2 vols.

(Oxford, 1911), i, 89. 4 Ibid., 167. Kant's use of the term 'laboured' introduces, as anathema, the vocabulary of

work or labour into aesthetic discourse. This may tie in with his rejection of mechanical form in art, at a time when production was increasingly subject to mechanical manufacturing processes.

65 Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Nightingale', Stories and Fairy Tales, trans. H. Oskar Som- mer, 2 vols. (London, 1893), i, 1-11.

Laborde was an inability to form a judgment' of birdsong's intervals could be regarded in Kantian terms as a sublime suspension of rational com-

prehension. To gloss Laborde's notion of intervallic unintelligibility in terms of the mathematical sublime: birdsong invites comprehension in terms of number or interval but exceeds the capacity of the human sub-

ject to comprehend the magnitude and measurement of that number.

Birdsong is a form of infinity. Conceived (or rather - as a sublime phenomenon - not conceived)

in these terms, birdsong is subject in The Critique ofJudgment (1790) to an ambivalent valuation as an incalculable song, irreducible to rules. For Kant, birdsong fell outside, even below the standards of art, and yet its

perceived asymmetry and wildness have the power to bring about a dis- illusionment with art: to make composed music seem staid, artificial, repetitive. This disillusionment is to some extent a rhetorical injunction for artists to avoid rule-bound composition. But its consequences go beyond the valorization of genius to an indictment of the aesthetic

category of the beautiful. Birdsong opens up something more complex, wild and unfathomable than the beautiful which is construed, in a moment of dysphoria, as a form of imprisonment to imposed regulations, and thus anathema to the project of Enlightenment:

Nature [is] subject to no constraint of artificial rules.... Even a bird's song, which we can reduce to no musical rule, seems to have more freedom in it, and thus to be richer for taste, than the human voice singing in accordance with all the rules that the art of music prescribes; for we grow tired much sooner of the frequent and lengthy repetitions of the latter.63

With this remark, Kant spoke to Schubart's disparagement of birdsong's monotonous repetitions, turning the accusation around by suggesting that it is music, not birdsong, that sounds eternally the same. At stake here is not repetition in and of itself, but the 'laboured effect' and 'academic form' that the artist must avoid.64 Birdsong was thus for Kant a positive point of reference in the rejection of what Coleridge called mechanical form. As an apparently spontaneous effusion of joy, it sustained the illusion of unfettered creation that Kant demanded of art. And yet, as we have seen with Schubart, birdsong could not stand as a model of an emergent aesthetic of organicism because of a perceived lack of variety. Paradoxically, birdsong could create just the mechanical, repetitive effect from which Kant imagined it free.

Kant's is perhaps the first exposition of a theme of birdsong and dis- illusionment with art that is hauntingly retold in Andersen's fairy-tale 'The

Nightingale'.5 Andersen's political allegory of the human spirit under

62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47). 63 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgement, ed. and trans. James Creed Meredith, 2 vols.

(Oxford, 1911), i, 89. 4 Ibid., 167. Kant's use of the term 'laboured' introduces, as anathema, the vocabulary of

work or labour into aesthetic discourse. This may tie in with his rejection of mechanical form in art, at a time when production was increasingly subject to mechanical manufacturing processes.

65 Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Nightingale', Stories and Fairy Tales, trans. H. Oskar Som- mer, 2 vols. (London, 1893), i, 1-11.

Laborde was an inability to form a judgment' of birdsong's intervals could be regarded in Kantian terms as a sublime suspension of rational com-

prehension. To gloss Laborde's notion of intervallic unintelligibility in terms of the mathematical sublime: birdsong invites comprehension in terms of number or interval but exceeds the capacity of the human sub-

ject to comprehend the magnitude and measurement of that number.

Birdsong is a form of infinity. Conceived (or rather - as a sublime phenomenon - not conceived)

in these terms, birdsong is subject in The Critique ofJudgment (1790) to an ambivalent valuation as an incalculable song, irreducible to rules. For Kant, birdsong fell outside, even below the standards of art, and yet its

perceived asymmetry and wildness have the power to bring about a dis- illusionment with art: to make composed music seem staid, artificial, repetitive. This disillusionment is to some extent a rhetorical injunction for artists to avoid rule-bound composition. But its consequences go beyond the valorization of genius to an indictment of the aesthetic

category of the beautiful. Birdsong opens up something more complex, wild and unfathomable than the beautiful which is construed, in a moment of dysphoria, as a form of imprisonment to imposed regulations, and thus anathema to the project of Enlightenment:

Nature [is] subject to no constraint of artificial rules.... Even a bird's song, which we can reduce to no musical rule, seems to have more freedom in it, and thus to be richer for taste, than the human voice singing in accordance with all the rules that the art of music prescribes; for we grow tired much sooner of the frequent and lengthy repetitions of the latter.63

With this remark, Kant spoke to Schubart's disparagement of birdsong's monotonous repetitions, turning the accusation around by suggesting that it is music, not birdsong, that sounds eternally the same. At stake here is not repetition in and of itself, but the 'laboured effect' and 'academic form' that the artist must avoid.64 Birdsong was thus for Kant a positive point of reference in the rejection of what Coleridge called mechanical form. As an apparently spontaneous effusion of joy, it sustained the illusion of unfettered creation that Kant demanded of art. And yet, as we have seen with Schubart, birdsong could not stand as a model of an emergent aesthetic of organicism because of a perceived lack of variety. Paradoxically, birdsong could create just the mechanical, repetitive effect from which Kant imagined it free.

Kant's is perhaps the first exposition of a theme of birdsong and dis- illusionment with art that is hauntingly retold in Andersen's fairy-tale 'The

Nightingale'.5 Andersen's political allegory of the human spirit under

62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47). 63 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgement, ed. and trans. James Creed Meredith, 2 vols.

(Oxford, 1911), i, 89. 4 Ibid., 167. Kant's use of the term 'laboured' introduces, as anathema, the vocabulary of

work or labour into aesthetic discourse. This may tie in with his rejection of mechanical form in art, at a time when production was increasingly subject to mechanical manufacturing processes.

65 Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Nightingale', Stories and Fairy Tales, trans. H. Oskar Som- mer, 2 vols. (London, 1893), i, 1-11.

Laborde was an inability to form a judgment' of birdsong's intervals could be regarded in Kantian terms as a sublime suspension of rational com-

prehension. To gloss Laborde's notion of intervallic unintelligibility in terms of the mathematical sublime: birdsong invites comprehension in terms of number or interval but exceeds the capacity of the human sub-

ject to comprehend the magnitude and measurement of that number.

Birdsong is a form of infinity. Conceived (or rather - as a sublime phenomenon - not conceived)

in these terms, birdsong is subject in The Critique ofJudgment (1790) to an ambivalent valuation as an incalculable song, irreducible to rules. For Kant, birdsong fell outside, even below the standards of art, and yet its

perceived asymmetry and wildness have the power to bring about a dis- illusionment with art: to make composed music seem staid, artificial, repetitive. This disillusionment is to some extent a rhetorical injunction for artists to avoid rule-bound composition. But its consequences go beyond the valorization of genius to an indictment of the aesthetic

category of the beautiful. Birdsong opens up something more complex, wild and unfathomable than the beautiful which is construed, in a moment of dysphoria, as a form of imprisonment to imposed regulations, and thus anathema to the project of Enlightenment:

Nature [is] subject to no constraint of artificial rules.... Even a bird's song, which we can reduce to no musical rule, seems to have more freedom in it, and thus to be richer for taste, than the human voice singing in accordance with all the rules that the art of music prescribes; for we grow tired much sooner of the frequent and lengthy repetitions of the latter.63

With this remark, Kant spoke to Schubart's disparagement of birdsong's monotonous repetitions, turning the accusation around by suggesting that it is music, not birdsong, that sounds eternally the same. At stake here is not repetition in and of itself, but the 'laboured effect' and 'academic form' that the artist must avoid.64 Birdsong was thus for Kant a positive point of reference in the rejection of what Coleridge called mechanical form. As an apparently spontaneous effusion of joy, it sustained the illusion of unfettered creation that Kant demanded of art. And yet, as we have seen with Schubart, birdsong could not stand as a model of an emergent aesthetic of organicism because of a perceived lack of variety. Paradoxically, birdsong could create just the mechanical, repetitive effect from which Kant imagined it free.

Kant's is perhaps the first exposition of a theme of birdsong and dis- illusionment with art that is hauntingly retold in Andersen's fairy-tale 'The

Nightingale'.5 Andersen's political allegory of the human spirit under

62 Ibid., 35 (see above, n. 47). 63 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgement, ed. and trans. James Creed Meredith, 2 vols.

(Oxford, 1911), i, 89. 4 Ibid., 167. Kant's use of the term 'laboured' introduces, as anathema, the vocabulary of

work or labour into aesthetic discourse. This may tie in with his rejection of mechanical form in art, at a time when production was increasingly subject to mechanical manufacturing processes.

65 Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Nightingale', Stories and Fairy Tales, trans. H. Oskar Som- mer, 2 vols. (London, 1893), i, 1-11.

20 20 20 20 20

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

despotism is troped in turn in Yeats's scathing evocations of art, privilege and artificiality in mythical Byzantium. The poet's image of a golden nightingale 'set upon a golden bough to sing I To lords and ladies of

Byzantium' encapsulates an art degraded to a socially divisive sign of wealth and power.66 However, such attempts to oppose nature and art, freedom and despotism, organicism and industrialization through the

allegorical opposition of birdsong and its artificial imitations are destabi- lized by the extent (evident in Schubart's remarks above) to which bird-

song has itself been regarded as repetitive, mechanical, endlessly the same. The romance of these narratives of disillusionment is vulnerable to defla- tion: as William Wenthe puts it in a recent poem, the monotonous 'mock-

ing bird I stuck on its song'.67

CONCLUSIONS

To return in conclusion to the historiographical question of origin: the conjectural nature of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music complicates claims made in both this and the eighteenth century for Enlightenment historiography. Eggebrecht claims that the Enlightenment witnessed the rise of a type of'systematic' historical writing 'that referred back to sources and proceeded in a philological and critical manner' - terms more apt to describe the aspirations of musicological positivism than the eighteenth-century discourse examined here.68 There was no possibility of what Eggebrecht describes as 'rational explanation' of the earliest, and thus the foundational, phases of the history of music. This may underlie Burney's refusal to engage with the question of music's origin. Yet Burney's silence is conspicuous, and strictly speaking his History begins not (as it appears to do) with an essay on Greek music but with a gap, an erasure.69 This gap, far from resolving or even circumventing the intellectual problem, dramatizes an absence of knowledge concern- ing the earliest phases of human civilization - a gap that is always and necessarily part of histories of music. In the case of Enlightenment histories, and those by Laborde, Blainville and Forkel in particular, this gap jeopardized the integrity and structure of historical narratives that

6 'Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.'

William Butler Yeats, 'Sailing to Byzantium', Selected Poetry, ed. A. Norman Jeffares (London, 1962), 105.

'Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow.'

Yeats, 'Byzantium', ibid., 154. 67 'Trope', Poetry, 159 (1991-2), 339. M Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, 'Historiography', The New Grove Dictionary of Music and

Musicians (London, 1980), viii, 595. 69 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols.

(London, 1776-89), ed. Frank Mercer, 2 vols. (London, 1935; repr. New York, 1957).

despotism is troped in turn in Yeats's scathing evocations of art, privilege and artificiality in mythical Byzantium. The poet's image of a golden nightingale 'set upon a golden bough to sing I To lords and ladies of

Byzantium' encapsulates an art degraded to a socially divisive sign of wealth and power.66 However, such attempts to oppose nature and art, freedom and despotism, organicism and industrialization through the

allegorical opposition of birdsong and its artificial imitations are destabi- lized by the extent (evident in Schubart's remarks above) to which bird-

song has itself been regarded as repetitive, mechanical, endlessly the same. The romance of these narratives of disillusionment is vulnerable to defla- tion: as William Wenthe puts it in a recent poem, the monotonous 'mock-

ing bird I stuck on its song'.67

CONCLUSIONS

To return in conclusion to the historiographical question of origin: the conjectural nature of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music complicates claims made in both this and the eighteenth century for Enlightenment historiography. Eggebrecht claims that the Enlightenment witnessed the rise of a type of'systematic' historical writing 'that referred back to sources and proceeded in a philological and critical manner' - terms more apt to describe the aspirations of musicological positivism than the eighteenth-century discourse examined here.68 There was no possibility of what Eggebrecht describes as 'rational explanation' of the earliest, and thus the foundational, phases of the history of music. This may underlie Burney's refusal to engage with the question of music's origin. Yet Burney's silence is conspicuous, and strictly speaking his History begins not (as it appears to do) with an essay on Greek music but with a gap, an erasure.69 This gap, far from resolving or even circumventing the intellectual problem, dramatizes an absence of knowledge concern- ing the earliest phases of human civilization - a gap that is always and necessarily part of histories of music. In the case of Enlightenment histories, and those by Laborde, Blainville and Forkel in particular, this gap jeopardized the integrity and structure of historical narratives that

6 'Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.'

William Butler Yeats, 'Sailing to Byzantium', Selected Poetry, ed. A. Norman Jeffares (London, 1962), 105.

'Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow.'

Yeats, 'Byzantium', ibid., 154. 67 'Trope', Poetry, 159 (1991-2), 339. M Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, 'Historiography', The New Grove Dictionary of Music and

Musicians (London, 1980), viii, 595. 69 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols.

(London, 1776-89), ed. Frank Mercer, 2 vols. (London, 1935; repr. New York, 1957).

despotism is troped in turn in Yeats's scathing evocations of art, privilege and artificiality in mythical Byzantium. The poet's image of a golden nightingale 'set upon a golden bough to sing I To lords and ladies of

Byzantium' encapsulates an art degraded to a socially divisive sign of wealth and power.66 However, such attempts to oppose nature and art, freedom and despotism, organicism and industrialization through the

allegorical opposition of birdsong and its artificial imitations are destabi- lized by the extent (evident in Schubart's remarks above) to which bird-

song has itself been regarded as repetitive, mechanical, endlessly the same. The romance of these narratives of disillusionment is vulnerable to defla- tion: as William Wenthe puts it in a recent poem, the monotonous 'mock-

ing bird I stuck on its song'.67

CONCLUSIONS

To return in conclusion to the historiographical question of origin: the conjectural nature of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music complicates claims made in both this and the eighteenth century for Enlightenment historiography. Eggebrecht claims that the Enlightenment witnessed the rise of a type of'systematic' historical writing 'that referred back to sources and proceeded in a philological and critical manner' - terms more apt to describe the aspirations of musicological positivism than the eighteenth-century discourse examined here.68 There was no possibility of what Eggebrecht describes as 'rational explanation' of the earliest, and thus the foundational, phases of the history of music. This may underlie Burney's refusal to engage with the question of music's origin. Yet Burney's silence is conspicuous, and strictly speaking his History begins not (as it appears to do) with an essay on Greek music but with a gap, an erasure.69 This gap, far from resolving or even circumventing the intellectual problem, dramatizes an absence of knowledge concern- ing the earliest phases of human civilization - a gap that is always and necessarily part of histories of music. In the case of Enlightenment histories, and those by Laborde, Blainville and Forkel in particular, this gap jeopardized the integrity and structure of historical narratives that

6 'Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.'

William Butler Yeats, 'Sailing to Byzantium', Selected Poetry, ed. A. Norman Jeffares (London, 1962), 105.

'Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow.'

Yeats, 'Byzantium', ibid., 154. 67 'Trope', Poetry, 159 (1991-2), 339. M Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, 'Historiography', The New Grove Dictionary of Music and

Musicians (London, 1980), viii, 595. 69 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols.

(London, 1776-89), ed. Frank Mercer, 2 vols. (London, 1935; repr. New York, 1957).

despotism is troped in turn in Yeats's scathing evocations of art, privilege and artificiality in mythical Byzantium. The poet's image of a golden nightingale 'set upon a golden bough to sing I To lords and ladies of

Byzantium' encapsulates an art degraded to a socially divisive sign of wealth and power.66 However, such attempts to oppose nature and art, freedom and despotism, organicism and industrialization through the

allegorical opposition of birdsong and its artificial imitations are destabi- lized by the extent (evident in Schubart's remarks above) to which bird-

song has itself been regarded as repetitive, mechanical, endlessly the same. The romance of these narratives of disillusionment is vulnerable to defla- tion: as William Wenthe puts it in a recent poem, the monotonous 'mock-

ing bird I stuck on its song'.67

CONCLUSIONS

To return in conclusion to the historiographical question of origin: the conjectural nature of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music complicates claims made in both this and the eighteenth century for Enlightenment historiography. Eggebrecht claims that the Enlightenment witnessed the rise of a type of'systematic' historical writing 'that referred back to sources and proceeded in a philological and critical manner' - terms more apt to describe the aspirations of musicological positivism than the eighteenth-century discourse examined here.68 There was no possibility of what Eggebrecht describes as 'rational explanation' of the earliest, and thus the foundational, phases of the history of music. This may underlie Burney's refusal to engage with the question of music's origin. Yet Burney's silence is conspicuous, and strictly speaking his History begins not (as it appears to do) with an essay on Greek music but with a gap, an erasure.69 This gap, far from resolving or even circumventing the intellectual problem, dramatizes an absence of knowledge concern- ing the earliest phases of human civilization - a gap that is always and necessarily part of histories of music. In the case of Enlightenment histories, and those by Laborde, Blainville and Forkel in particular, this gap jeopardized the integrity and structure of historical narratives that

6 'Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.'

William Butler Yeats, 'Sailing to Byzantium', Selected Poetry, ed. A. Norman Jeffares (London, 1962), 105.

'Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow.'

Yeats, 'Byzantium', ibid., 154. 67 'Trope', Poetry, 159 (1991-2), 339. M Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, 'Historiography', The New Grove Dictionary of Music and

Musicians (London, 1980), viii, 595. 69 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols.

(London, 1776-89), ed. Frank Mercer, 2 vols. (London, 1935; repr. New York, 1957).

despotism is troped in turn in Yeats's scathing evocations of art, privilege and artificiality in mythical Byzantium. The poet's image of a golden nightingale 'set upon a golden bough to sing I To lords and ladies of

Byzantium' encapsulates an art degraded to a socially divisive sign of wealth and power.66 However, such attempts to oppose nature and art, freedom and despotism, organicism and industrialization through the

allegorical opposition of birdsong and its artificial imitations are destabi- lized by the extent (evident in Schubart's remarks above) to which bird-

song has itself been regarded as repetitive, mechanical, endlessly the same. The romance of these narratives of disillusionment is vulnerable to defla- tion: as William Wenthe puts it in a recent poem, the monotonous 'mock-

ing bird I stuck on its song'.67

CONCLUSIONS

To return in conclusion to the historiographical question of origin: the conjectural nature of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music complicates claims made in both this and the eighteenth century for Enlightenment historiography. Eggebrecht claims that the Enlightenment witnessed the rise of a type of'systematic' historical writing 'that referred back to sources and proceeded in a philological and critical manner' - terms more apt to describe the aspirations of musicological positivism than the eighteenth-century discourse examined here.68 There was no possibility of what Eggebrecht describes as 'rational explanation' of the earliest, and thus the foundational, phases of the history of music. This may underlie Burney's refusal to engage with the question of music's origin. Yet Burney's silence is conspicuous, and strictly speaking his History begins not (as it appears to do) with an essay on Greek music but with a gap, an erasure.69 This gap, far from resolving or even circumventing the intellectual problem, dramatizes an absence of knowledge concern- ing the earliest phases of human civilization - a gap that is always and necessarily part of histories of music. In the case of Enlightenment histories, and those by Laborde, Blainville and Forkel in particular, this gap jeopardized the integrity and structure of historical narratives that

6 'Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.'

William Butler Yeats, 'Sailing to Byzantium', Selected Poetry, ed. A. Norman Jeffares (London, 1962), 105.

'Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow.'

Yeats, 'Byzantium', ibid., 154. 67 'Trope', Poetry, 159 (1991-2), 339. M Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht, 'Historiography', The New Grove Dictionary of Music and

Musicians (London, 1980), viii, 595. 69 Charles Burney, A General History of Music from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols.

(London, 1776-89), ed. Frank Mercer, 2 vols. (London, 1935; repr. New York, 1957).

21 21 21 21 21

MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD MATTHEW HEAD

sought to account for the progress towards current perfection: for in

ignorance of the earliest musical forms how could progress be judged? From Eggebrecht's remarks above, it is clear that twentieth-century

accounts of eighteenth-century music histories have not only been shaped by, but have served as occasions to affirm, current musicological method. In his excellent source-book of eighteenth-century writings on music, Fubini looks to that century as the time in which music history as he understood it was founded. The eighteenth century is thus construed as the point of origin for modern musicology. As part of this identification, however, the point of origin must be made to conform to the present, it must be

purged of extraneous material, and thus eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin is reviewed with scepticism. Fubini characterizes Bon- net's (1715) discussion of the origins of music as historiographically 'primitive, abstract and mythological'.70 To this 'collection of anecdotes or citations' Fubini contrasts the 'authentic histories of music' by Hawkins and Burney which 'clearly outline the methodology that informed their research'. In these works 'the focus of interest is no longer the mythical accounts of the origin of music but the musicians and their works'.71 As Hawkins's General History attests, however, there was a constant need or

compulsion to repeat the earlier anecdotes, even if parenthetically or (in Hawkins's case) in a single sprawling footnote. Such dramatic gestures of containment are only arguably successful in their attempt at marginalization.

The significance of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music is not limited, however, to its ability to focus questions about writing history. Theories of music's origin informed the attitudes of composers, critics and audiences to the art and thus played a part in the broader cultural significance ascribed to music in Europe. According to Gries- inger, Joseph Haydn's plain-speaking contemporary biographer, Haydn held a theological view of music as a gift from God that glorified not the composer but the creator - a view that has consequences for the inter- pretation of Haydn's music, his relation to patrons and institutions, and

particularly his attitudes towards and valuations of his own works.2 Theories of music's origin also entered into the reservoir of plots and characters upon the eighteenth-century operatic stage. In act 2, scene iv of Haydn's 'Turkish' opera buffa L'incontro improvviso (1775), the Persian

princess Rezia sings a canzonetta in BI which she claims, in the preceding recitative, to have learnt from a bird.73 This emplotment of a particular theory of music's origin is not gender-neutral: it aligns femininity with

70' Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, trans.

Wolfgang Freis, Lisa Gasbarrone and Michael Louis Leone, ed. BonnieJ. Blackburn (Chicago, 1994), 30.

7' Ibid., 155. 72 See Georg August Griesinger, 'Biographical Notes concerning Joseph Haydn', Haydn: Two

Contemporary Portraits, trans. and ed. Vernon Gotwals (Madison, 1968), 53-4. 7s Joseph Haydn, L'incontro improvviso, ed. Helmut Wirth, Joseph Haydn: Werke, xv/6 (Munich,

1963). This detail does not appear in the original version of the libretto by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt, set by Christoph Willibald Gluck in 1763 as La rencontre imprewue, ou les pelerins de la Mecque, and is thus attributable to the Eszterhaza tenor Carl Friberth, who translated and adapted the libretto for Haydn's setting of 1775.

sought to account for the progress towards current perfection: for in

ignorance of the earliest musical forms how could progress be judged? From Eggebrecht's remarks above, it is clear that twentieth-century

accounts of eighteenth-century music histories have not only been shaped by, but have served as occasions to affirm, current musicological method. In his excellent source-book of eighteenth-century writings on music, Fubini looks to that century as the time in which music history as he understood it was founded. The eighteenth century is thus construed as the point of origin for modern musicology. As part of this identification, however, the point of origin must be made to conform to the present, it must be

purged of extraneous material, and thus eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin is reviewed with scepticism. Fubini characterizes Bon- net's (1715) discussion of the origins of music as historiographically 'primitive, abstract and mythological'.70 To this 'collection of anecdotes or citations' Fubini contrasts the 'authentic histories of music' by Hawkins and Burney which 'clearly outline the methodology that informed their research'. In these works 'the focus of interest is no longer the mythical accounts of the origin of music but the musicians and their works'.71 As Hawkins's General History attests, however, there was a constant need or

compulsion to repeat the earlier anecdotes, even if parenthetically or (in Hawkins's case) in a single sprawling footnote. Such dramatic gestures of containment are only arguably successful in their attempt at marginalization.

The significance of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music is not limited, however, to its ability to focus questions about writing history. Theories of music's origin informed the attitudes of composers, critics and audiences to the art and thus played a part in the broader cultural significance ascribed to music in Europe. According to Gries- inger, Joseph Haydn's plain-speaking contemporary biographer, Haydn held a theological view of music as a gift from God that glorified not the composer but the creator - a view that has consequences for the inter- pretation of Haydn's music, his relation to patrons and institutions, and

particularly his attitudes towards and valuations of his own works.2 Theories of music's origin also entered into the reservoir of plots and characters upon the eighteenth-century operatic stage. In act 2, scene iv of Haydn's 'Turkish' opera buffa L'incontro improvviso (1775), the Persian

princess Rezia sings a canzonetta in BI which she claims, in the preceding recitative, to have learnt from a bird.73 This emplotment of a particular theory of music's origin is not gender-neutral: it aligns femininity with

70' Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, trans.

Wolfgang Freis, Lisa Gasbarrone and Michael Louis Leone, ed. BonnieJ. Blackburn (Chicago, 1994), 30.

7' Ibid., 155. 72 See Georg August Griesinger, 'Biographical Notes concerning Joseph Haydn', Haydn: Two

Contemporary Portraits, trans. and ed. Vernon Gotwals (Madison, 1968), 53-4. 7s Joseph Haydn, L'incontro improvviso, ed. Helmut Wirth, Joseph Haydn: Werke, xv/6 (Munich,

1963). This detail does not appear in the original version of the libretto by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt, set by Christoph Willibald Gluck in 1763 as La rencontre imprewue, ou les pelerins de la Mecque, and is thus attributable to the Eszterhaza tenor Carl Friberth, who translated and adapted the libretto for Haydn's setting of 1775.

sought to account for the progress towards current perfection: for in

ignorance of the earliest musical forms how could progress be judged? From Eggebrecht's remarks above, it is clear that twentieth-century

accounts of eighteenth-century music histories have not only been shaped by, but have served as occasions to affirm, current musicological method. In his excellent source-book of eighteenth-century writings on music, Fubini looks to that century as the time in which music history as he understood it was founded. The eighteenth century is thus construed as the point of origin for modern musicology. As part of this identification, however, the point of origin must be made to conform to the present, it must be

purged of extraneous material, and thus eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin is reviewed with scepticism. Fubini characterizes Bon- net's (1715) discussion of the origins of music as historiographically 'primitive, abstract and mythological'.70 To this 'collection of anecdotes or citations' Fubini contrasts the 'authentic histories of music' by Hawkins and Burney which 'clearly outline the methodology that informed their research'. In these works 'the focus of interest is no longer the mythical accounts of the origin of music but the musicians and their works'.71 As Hawkins's General History attests, however, there was a constant need or

compulsion to repeat the earlier anecdotes, even if parenthetically or (in Hawkins's case) in a single sprawling footnote. Such dramatic gestures of containment are only arguably successful in their attempt at marginalization.

The significance of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music is not limited, however, to its ability to focus questions about writing history. Theories of music's origin informed the attitudes of composers, critics and audiences to the art and thus played a part in the broader cultural significance ascribed to music in Europe. According to Gries- inger, Joseph Haydn's plain-speaking contemporary biographer, Haydn held a theological view of music as a gift from God that glorified not the composer but the creator - a view that has consequences for the inter- pretation of Haydn's music, his relation to patrons and institutions, and

particularly his attitudes towards and valuations of his own works.2 Theories of music's origin also entered into the reservoir of plots and characters upon the eighteenth-century operatic stage. In act 2, scene iv of Haydn's 'Turkish' opera buffa L'incontro improvviso (1775), the Persian

princess Rezia sings a canzonetta in BI which she claims, in the preceding recitative, to have learnt from a bird.73 This emplotment of a particular theory of music's origin is not gender-neutral: it aligns femininity with

70' Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, trans.

Wolfgang Freis, Lisa Gasbarrone and Michael Louis Leone, ed. BonnieJ. Blackburn (Chicago, 1994), 30.

7' Ibid., 155. 72 See Georg August Griesinger, 'Biographical Notes concerning Joseph Haydn', Haydn: Two

Contemporary Portraits, trans. and ed. Vernon Gotwals (Madison, 1968), 53-4. 7s Joseph Haydn, L'incontro improvviso, ed. Helmut Wirth, Joseph Haydn: Werke, xv/6 (Munich,

1963). This detail does not appear in the original version of the libretto by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt, set by Christoph Willibald Gluck in 1763 as La rencontre imprewue, ou les pelerins de la Mecque, and is thus attributable to the Eszterhaza tenor Carl Friberth, who translated and adapted the libretto for Haydn's setting of 1775.

sought to account for the progress towards current perfection: for in

ignorance of the earliest musical forms how could progress be judged? From Eggebrecht's remarks above, it is clear that twentieth-century

accounts of eighteenth-century music histories have not only been shaped by, but have served as occasions to affirm, current musicological method. In his excellent source-book of eighteenth-century writings on music, Fubini looks to that century as the time in which music history as he understood it was founded. The eighteenth century is thus construed as the point of origin for modern musicology. As part of this identification, however, the point of origin must be made to conform to the present, it must be

purged of extraneous material, and thus eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin is reviewed with scepticism. Fubini characterizes Bon- net's (1715) discussion of the origins of music as historiographically 'primitive, abstract and mythological'.70 To this 'collection of anecdotes or citations' Fubini contrasts the 'authentic histories of music' by Hawkins and Burney which 'clearly outline the methodology that informed their research'. In these works 'the focus of interest is no longer the mythical accounts of the origin of music but the musicians and their works'.71 As Hawkins's General History attests, however, there was a constant need or

compulsion to repeat the earlier anecdotes, even if parenthetically or (in Hawkins's case) in a single sprawling footnote. Such dramatic gestures of containment are only arguably successful in their attempt at marginalization.

The significance of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music is not limited, however, to its ability to focus questions about writing history. Theories of music's origin informed the attitudes of composers, critics and audiences to the art and thus played a part in the broader cultural significance ascribed to music in Europe. According to Gries- inger, Joseph Haydn's plain-speaking contemporary biographer, Haydn held a theological view of music as a gift from God that glorified not the composer but the creator - a view that has consequences for the inter- pretation of Haydn's music, his relation to patrons and institutions, and

particularly his attitudes towards and valuations of his own works.2 Theories of music's origin also entered into the reservoir of plots and characters upon the eighteenth-century operatic stage. In act 2, scene iv of Haydn's 'Turkish' opera buffa L'incontro improvviso (1775), the Persian

princess Rezia sings a canzonetta in BI which she claims, in the preceding recitative, to have learnt from a bird.73 This emplotment of a particular theory of music's origin is not gender-neutral: it aligns femininity with

70' Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, trans.

Wolfgang Freis, Lisa Gasbarrone and Michael Louis Leone, ed. BonnieJ. Blackburn (Chicago, 1994), 30.

7' Ibid., 155. 72 See Georg August Griesinger, 'Biographical Notes concerning Joseph Haydn', Haydn: Two

Contemporary Portraits, trans. and ed. Vernon Gotwals (Madison, 1968), 53-4. 7s Joseph Haydn, L'incontro improvviso, ed. Helmut Wirth, Joseph Haydn: Werke, xv/6 (Munich,

1963). This detail does not appear in the original version of the libretto by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt, set by Christoph Willibald Gluck in 1763 as La rencontre imprewue, ou les pelerins de la Mecque, and is thus attributable to the Eszterhaza tenor Carl Friberth, who translated and adapted the libretto for Haydn's setting of 1775.

sought to account for the progress towards current perfection: for in

ignorance of the earliest musical forms how could progress be judged? From Eggebrecht's remarks above, it is clear that twentieth-century

accounts of eighteenth-century music histories have not only been shaped by, but have served as occasions to affirm, current musicological method. In his excellent source-book of eighteenth-century writings on music, Fubini looks to that century as the time in which music history as he understood it was founded. The eighteenth century is thus construed as the point of origin for modern musicology. As part of this identification, however, the point of origin must be made to conform to the present, it must be

purged of extraneous material, and thus eighteenth-century discourse on music's origin is reviewed with scepticism. Fubini characterizes Bon- net's (1715) discussion of the origins of music as historiographically 'primitive, abstract and mythological'.70 To this 'collection of anecdotes or citations' Fubini contrasts the 'authentic histories of music' by Hawkins and Burney which 'clearly outline the methodology that informed their research'. In these works 'the focus of interest is no longer the mythical accounts of the origin of music but the musicians and their works'.71 As Hawkins's General History attests, however, there was a constant need or

compulsion to repeat the earlier anecdotes, even if parenthetically or (in Hawkins's case) in a single sprawling footnote. Such dramatic gestures of containment are only arguably successful in their attempt at marginalization.

The significance of eighteenth-century discourse on the origins of music is not limited, however, to its ability to focus questions about writing history. Theories of music's origin informed the attitudes of composers, critics and audiences to the art and thus played a part in the broader cultural significance ascribed to music in Europe. According to Gries- inger, Joseph Haydn's plain-speaking contemporary biographer, Haydn held a theological view of music as a gift from God that glorified not the composer but the creator - a view that has consequences for the inter- pretation of Haydn's music, his relation to patrons and institutions, and

particularly his attitudes towards and valuations of his own works.2 Theories of music's origin also entered into the reservoir of plots and characters upon the eighteenth-century operatic stage. In act 2, scene iv of Haydn's 'Turkish' opera buffa L'incontro improvviso (1775), the Persian

princess Rezia sings a canzonetta in BI which she claims, in the preceding recitative, to have learnt from a bird.73 This emplotment of a particular theory of music's origin is not gender-neutral: it aligns femininity with

70' Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, trans.

Wolfgang Freis, Lisa Gasbarrone and Michael Louis Leone, ed. BonnieJ. Blackburn (Chicago, 1994), 30.

7' Ibid., 155. 72 See Georg August Griesinger, 'Biographical Notes concerning Joseph Haydn', Haydn: Two

Contemporary Portraits, trans. and ed. Vernon Gotwals (Madison, 1968), 53-4. 7s Joseph Haydn, L'incontro improvviso, ed. Helmut Wirth, Joseph Haydn: Werke, xv/6 (Munich,

1963). This detail does not appear in the original version of the libretto by Louis Hurtaut Dancourt, set by Christoph Willibald Gluck in 1763 as La rencontre imprewue, ou les pelerins de la Mecque, and is thus attributable to the Eszterhaza tenor Carl Friberth, who translated and adapted the libretto for Haydn's setting of 1775.

22 22 22 22 22

BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC BIRDSONG AND THE ORIGINS OF MUSIC

nature, female musicality with the natural, the artless and the untutored. This gendered deployment of the theory of music's origin in the mimicry of birdsong is also met in the frequent textual and musical analogies between female song and birdsong in eighteenth-century arias and lieder. The shepherdess Dorinda in Handel's Orlando, for example, sings rustic Scotch snaps and triadic melody in a manner reminiscent of Hawkins's

transcription of the blackbird's song.74 But the notion that music was learnt from the birds is not always or necessarily gendered feminine. Mozart's Papageno from Die Zauberflite could also be seen to engage com-

ically and somewhat obscurely with this idea, just as his magic flute alludes to the myth of Orpheus, though parodically so, given its owner's apparent cowardice. Papageno thus emerges as a composite of myths concerning both the origin and the power of music.

To review the stories of music's origin - from monkeys aping birds to the instruction Adam and Eve received from the angels; from the wind piping through the reeds on the banks of the River Nile to music as an instinctive language of the passions - is to excavate a layer of myth that Europe has told about its music. And it is as creation myth that this material should be preserved, read and valued. New Age and Environmen- tal music attest the continued need for and use of these myths - loons wailing through the strains of the 'Moonlight' Sonata serving not only purposes of relaxation but to raise every possible question about music's origin in and relation to nature.75 The exclusion of myths of origin from the official history of music may prove to be temporary.

University of Southampton

74 Georg Friedrich Handel, Orlando, ed. Siegfried Flesch, Hallische Hdndel-Ausgabe, ii/28 (Kassel, 1969), 'Amor e qual vento', Act 3, scene v.

7 Beethoven Naturally, CD recording by Northsound (Minocqua, WI, 1994), NSCD 26242. 'Pure sounds of nature - rumbling thunder, lapping waves, wailing loons - complement the familiar, moving piano selections' (liner notes).

nature, female musicality with the natural, the artless and the untutored. This gendered deployment of the theory of music's origin in the mimicry of birdsong is also met in the frequent textual and musical analogies between female song and birdsong in eighteenth-century arias and lieder. The shepherdess Dorinda in Handel's Orlando, for example, sings rustic Scotch snaps and triadic melody in a manner reminiscent of Hawkins's

transcription of the blackbird's song.74 But the notion that music was learnt from the birds is not always or necessarily gendered feminine. Mozart's Papageno from Die Zauberflite could also be seen to engage com-

ically and somewhat obscurely with this idea, just as his magic flute alludes to the myth of Orpheus, though parodically so, given its owner's apparent cowardice. Papageno thus emerges as a composite of myths concerning both the origin and the power of music.

To review the stories of music's origin - from monkeys aping birds to the instruction Adam and Eve received from the angels; from the wind piping through the reeds on the banks of the River Nile to music as an instinctive language of the passions - is to excavate a layer of myth that Europe has told about its music. And it is as creation myth that this material should be preserved, read and valued. New Age and Environmen- tal music attest the continued need for and use of these myths - loons wailing through the strains of the 'Moonlight' Sonata serving not only purposes of relaxation but to raise every possible question about music's origin in and relation to nature.75 The exclusion of myths of origin from the official history of music may prove to be temporary.

University of Southampton

74 Georg Friedrich Handel, Orlando, ed. Siegfried Flesch, Hallische Hdndel-Ausgabe, ii/28 (Kassel, 1969), 'Amor e qual vento', Act 3, scene v.

7 Beethoven Naturally, CD recording by Northsound (Minocqua, WI, 1994), NSCD 26242. 'Pure sounds of nature - rumbling thunder, lapping waves, wailing loons - complement the familiar, moving piano selections' (liner notes).

nature, female musicality with the natural, the artless and the untutored. This gendered deployment of the theory of music's origin in the mimicry of birdsong is also met in the frequent textual and musical analogies between female song and birdsong in eighteenth-century arias and lieder. The shepherdess Dorinda in Handel's Orlando, for example, sings rustic Scotch snaps and triadic melody in a manner reminiscent of Hawkins's

transcription of the blackbird's song.74 But the notion that music was learnt from the birds is not always or necessarily gendered feminine. Mozart's Papageno from Die Zauberflite could also be seen to engage com-

ically and somewhat obscurely with this idea, just as his magic flute alludes to the myth of Orpheus, though parodically so, given its owner's apparent cowardice. Papageno thus emerges as a composite of myths concerning both the origin and the power of music.

To review the stories of music's origin - from monkeys aping birds to the instruction Adam and Eve received from the angels; from the wind piping through the reeds on the banks of the River Nile to music as an instinctive language of the passions - is to excavate a layer of myth that Europe has told about its music. And it is as creation myth that this material should be preserved, read and valued. New Age and Environmen- tal music attest the continued need for and use of these myths - loons wailing through the strains of the 'Moonlight' Sonata serving not only purposes of relaxation but to raise every possible question about music's origin in and relation to nature.75 The exclusion of myths of origin from the official history of music may prove to be temporary.

University of Southampton

74 Georg Friedrich Handel, Orlando, ed. Siegfried Flesch, Hallische Hdndel-Ausgabe, ii/28 (Kassel, 1969), 'Amor e qual vento', Act 3, scene v.

7 Beethoven Naturally, CD recording by Northsound (Minocqua, WI, 1994), NSCD 26242. 'Pure sounds of nature - rumbling thunder, lapping waves, wailing loons - complement the familiar, moving piano selections' (liner notes).

nature, female musicality with the natural, the artless and the untutored. This gendered deployment of the theory of music's origin in the mimicry of birdsong is also met in the frequent textual and musical analogies between female song and birdsong in eighteenth-century arias and lieder. The shepherdess Dorinda in Handel's Orlando, for example, sings rustic Scotch snaps and triadic melody in a manner reminiscent of Hawkins's

transcription of the blackbird's song.74 But the notion that music was learnt from the birds is not always or necessarily gendered feminine. Mozart's Papageno from Die Zauberflite could also be seen to engage com-

ically and somewhat obscurely with this idea, just as his magic flute alludes to the myth of Orpheus, though parodically so, given its owner's apparent cowardice. Papageno thus emerges as a composite of myths concerning both the origin and the power of music.

To review the stories of music's origin - from monkeys aping birds to the instruction Adam and Eve received from the angels; from the wind piping through the reeds on the banks of the River Nile to music as an instinctive language of the passions - is to excavate a layer of myth that Europe has told about its music. And it is as creation myth that this material should be preserved, read and valued. New Age and Environmen- tal music attest the continued need for and use of these myths - loons wailing through the strains of the 'Moonlight' Sonata serving not only purposes of relaxation but to raise every possible question about music's origin in and relation to nature.75 The exclusion of myths of origin from the official history of music may prove to be temporary.

University of Southampton

74 Georg Friedrich Handel, Orlando, ed. Siegfried Flesch, Hallische Hdndel-Ausgabe, ii/28 (Kassel, 1969), 'Amor e qual vento', Act 3, scene v.

7 Beethoven Naturally, CD recording by Northsound (Minocqua, WI, 1994), NSCD 26242. 'Pure sounds of nature - rumbling thunder, lapping waves, wailing loons - complement the familiar, moving piano selections' (liner notes).

nature, female musicality with the natural, the artless and the untutored. This gendered deployment of the theory of music's origin in the mimicry of birdsong is also met in the frequent textual and musical analogies between female song and birdsong in eighteenth-century arias and lieder. The shepherdess Dorinda in Handel's Orlando, for example, sings rustic Scotch snaps and triadic melody in a manner reminiscent of Hawkins's

transcription of the blackbird's song.74 But the notion that music was learnt from the birds is not always or necessarily gendered feminine. Mozart's Papageno from Die Zauberflite could also be seen to engage com-

ically and somewhat obscurely with this idea, just as his magic flute alludes to the myth of Orpheus, though parodically so, given its owner's apparent cowardice. Papageno thus emerges as a composite of myths concerning both the origin and the power of music.

To review the stories of music's origin - from monkeys aping birds to the instruction Adam and Eve received from the angels; from the wind piping through the reeds on the banks of the River Nile to music as an instinctive language of the passions - is to excavate a layer of myth that Europe has told about its music. And it is as creation myth that this material should be preserved, read and valued. New Age and Environmen- tal music attest the continued need for and use of these myths - loons wailing through the strains of the 'Moonlight' Sonata serving not only purposes of relaxation but to raise every possible question about music's origin in and relation to nature.75 The exclusion of myths of origin from the official history of music may prove to be temporary.

University of Southampton

74 Georg Friedrich Handel, Orlando, ed. Siegfried Flesch, Hallische Hdndel-Ausgabe, ii/28 (Kassel, 1969), 'Amor e qual vento', Act 3, scene v.

7 Beethoven Naturally, CD recording by Northsound (Minocqua, WI, 1994), NSCD 26242. 'Pure sounds of nature - rumbling thunder, lapping waves, wailing loons - complement the familiar, moving piano selections' (liner notes).

23 23 23 23 23