CHAPTER VI.
In the Land of Greece.
FROM ETRURIA TO ATHENS.
What a merry lot those _Subulones_ were, piping to song and dance and good cheer. I have been laughing over an Etruscan picture of one of these jovial fellows laying down on the grass upon his back, all the time lustily playing his pipes, and kicking his legs in the air, in sheer exuberance of merriment. And I have wondered what could that music be which so evidently was a never failing source of enjoyment to him, and to his race.
The old adage says “simple things please simple folk.” Simple the music must have been, because of the very limited compass of such instruments as we see delineated; and I have thought that, maybe, the old folk songs of eastern Europe preserve to us fragments of that ancient music. Simple, indeed, but to hearers and players in those days representing the fulness of art. The suitability of such music to such instruments is clear enough, for the tunes need but a range of a few notes, and come easily into the compass of rustic voices. Century after century these old melodies have been cherished, and seem to have perpetual life. They antedate all histories, and none can trace them to their earliest springs. How that one haunted Beethoven which he put into his Ninth Symphony, and made his chief theme,—a simple phrase of a few notes that seems as if it would go on for ever. For thirteen years it crops up here and there in his works, until at last he found full deliverance for it in the crowning effort of his genius.
In the last chapter, I showed you by illustrations the three distinct usages of the double pipes as improved by the Etruscans, and I sought to demonstrate that their new invention comprised, first, a concealed reed in a hollow bulb; secondly, such a disposition of the reed that one, or two, or three bulbs were allotted to each pipe, and that the purpose of such an arrangement was to obtain an adaptability in the reed, that it might be placed at pleasure in either bulb. I judged that the invention had three stages, first when there was one bulb, next when two were used, and finally three. My reasoning is confirmed by a _Kylix_ in the 2nd Vase Room of the British Museum, it is of the early or archaic period (B.C. 480-440) and the pipes are with one bulb only. The player, a female player, has the left-hand pipe longest, thus evidently indicating a transition period in pipes linked to Egyptian custom.
These conditions imply corresponding advances in musical art, for by the new methods it becomes possible to play in three different modes or scales; since if we suppose the reed to be placed in the bulb nearest the pipe, the player would produce, as the lowest note, A; if placed in the bulb above, he could produce G; and if in the highest bulb, reach as low as F. Although his fingering would remain the same, the pitch would include a different range in each case, and, as we should say, he would thus be able to play in different keys. I reckon by the relation of the length of the bulb, which is equal to the distance between two holes, that each change would make a difference of a whole tone. The art of the player would greatly alter intervals, especially by partial covering of the holes flattening pitch to required degrees for the particular mode.
When we read of the various Greek modes—of the Dorian scale, the Phrygian, Lydian, Mixo-Lydian, Hypo-Dorian, and others—we should not forget that one was added to the other in order of time, and the full system only gradually evolved. And in this Etruscan period, the music was probably limited to the single tetrachord on three modes, and so remained for a long time. We, in some instances, see on the vases that the pipes are marked with three holes each, sometimes with four; although it is rarely that the holes are indicated at all.
The Egyptian flutes had three holes to one pipe and four to the other, which only extended the scale one note higher than the three holed. In these Etruscan flutes, however, it is by no means clear that the second flute extended the compass, for the holes seemed to occupy in each the same position as to distance. It is open to consideration that a difference in the pitch of the reed itself of one of the pipes, would possess the power of influencing that pipe to the extent of a semi-tone, if such entered into the design of the instrument, and so we find a reason for the second pipe. On my models, I sometimes make a difference of a whole tone in each note of the scale produced. In default of any true knowledge of Greek practice, I think that we may fairly attribute to the artist some such design in the construction of the pipes.
It is a natural conclusion that the first invention of man in the way of flutes would be a single pipe for the production of one, two or three notes; then with a sense of a scale the four notes. From the single pipe the double pipe would arise, with a view to some _variation_ of such a scale, to which the ear was predisposed, and so the method of double pipes would be fixed by custom.
We may be quite sure that when double pipes were first adopted there was a meaning in the method. The assumption that one pipe preceded the two does not seem to hold in the case of these bulbed flutes with the four holes, they seem to start as _di-aulos_.
The Etrurian vases give no instance of single flutes. In truth, another invention was necessary, and it came in course of aftertime from the Greek mind. Like most useful inventions, it was marvellously simple—nothing other than the giving of _six holes to one pipe_, and fingering the one pipe with fingers of both hands, and with one thumb added; even that thumb hole may rank as a distinct invention of intrinsic importance to art. A similar delay we know occurred in association with key-board instruments, and it was only in Bach’s usage that the thumb was raised to the rank of efficiency and placed on an equality with the fingers.
It is remarkable that in the progress of civilization the later way of development should have been from the double flute to the single flute, through perception of the better aid to execution and display that was afforded by the single flute, and evidently when this change came, the idea of different modes had gained acceptance, the two pipes no longer constituting a pair, but each pipe intended to be taken up in obedience to the choice or change of mode.
This is a very significant advance. Let us now study the nature of
THE SWEET MONAULOS.
The mon-aulos, “the sweet monaulos,” not seen on the vases or wall-paintings, but known to have been, and still having a real existence in two solitary specimens now in the British Museum, and accompanied by that evidence, which is unique as it is precious, of the actual hollow bulb that tipped the pipe. The allusions I have made to these flutes in earlier chapters will be remembered, and now comes the fitting moment to enter into details. The illustrations fairly give the proportion as to distances, on a scale of one fourth, sufficiently clear to enable you to judge how the holes are arranged. The pipes are very nearly cylindrical, departing from the true figure only in being of a little larger bore at the upper end than at the lower; which may have been done by design, or the nature of the drilling means then in use may have caused the variation of bore. If you go, to look at these relics of the Greek age, you will not see them as here represented, but curiously contorted. They were found in a tomb on the road to Eleusis, near Athens, and the damp of many centuries has twisted and warped them; and one has been broken, snapped asunder at the middle. They are made of sycamore, and are very plain simple instruments. What value they had we cannot in any degree estimate; but I should imagine them to be of the ordinary kind familiar to every household in which music was cherished; for the Greeks also, like the Etrurians, followed the old world custom of burying with the dead the things they had most prized in life, even as the Egyptians did.
And these flutes lay beside the youth when they left him there sorrowing, and thinking how his cherished flutes would comfort him in his loneliness. Now, not even his dust left; gone, we know not whither,—to the underworld or to the heights of Mount Olympus. We of a foreign race think of this nameless youth, because here they have brought his flutes, and these speak to us of kinship. Not without strange feelings did I handle them and place my fingers covering the holes, that all plainly showed how they had been smoothed and warm by his—_his_ fingers—playing soft Lydian airs: worn fingers that one day became pale, then cold as marble, and now unsubstantial and vanished utterly; as soon, indeed, mine will be. And yet we,—shadows, both—clasp hands over this great gap of time, whilst handling things that were loved.
How I hang over that case of treasures every time that I visit the Museum; foolishly fascinated perhaps, yet irresistibly so, looking and pondering. The fragment of a bulb that is left—for a fragment it is, only about three fourths of a whole—is, by the enthusiast’s valuation, beyond price. In one of the pipes, there is a piece of another bulb left sticking on the top; and, if you look closely, you will see the scored lines inside the pipe, and outside and inside the bulb, that were made so as to ensure close fitting when the bulb was pressed in. And look again, closely, and you will see at the top of each pipe, there is a little rim edge, and then a shallow groove about half an inch broad; and this, no doubt, was bound round with fibre or ivory or metal to prevent the splitting at the top, where the bulb was pressed in and made to fit securely, being, perhaps, slightly moistened by the lips, just as we do now when putting instruments together; and the operation was frequent, since the reeds, as I have said, were taken out after playing, and placed safely away in a little box called a tongue box.
The pipes are three eights of an inch in bore, and the finger holes are oval and large, in their smaller diameter quite as large as the bore. I measured the distance between every hole, and so obtained the correct length of the instruments as in their original straight condition.
By the kindness of Mr. A. S. Murray, then the esteemed chief of the department, I was able to take every particular I wished, and to calliper the bore of each pipe. The length of the longest pipe is thirteen and a half inches, and the shorter pipe is twelve inches and a quarter, just one and a quarter inches difference, which corresponds to the distance between each hole, showing that in depth of sound the pitch of the pipes differs by one whole tone.
The details of measurement are of the greatest interest in the scientific analysis of these ancient musical instruments, and afford much valuable insight into the system upon which they were constructed in conformity with the music for which they were designed, and very evidently they tell us that the music played by the people was of a simple character and very limited in compass.
As there are five finger holes and one thumb hole to each, it is clear, on consideration, that these cannot have been di-aulos, but that they were used as single pipes requiring two hands to play either; for the six holes would be unmanageable, and the holding altogether insecure under one hand. In my view, these are distinctly specimens of the mon-aulos, “the sweet mon-aulos,” praised by the poets; and there can be little question that the reeds used were soft and fine, and that the Greeks had acquired a skill in making them. Probably, they differed as much from the common _arghool_ as the reeds used by Lazarus in his clarionet differed from those of the street player on the yellow clarionet of past days. I have given the names of the notes against the holes. The thumb holes out of line will be understood as showing what otherwise is out of sight; but it makes the series of holes clearer. In the one pipe it is the G hole, in the other it is the A.
You will notice that there is a curious interval of a minor third, which doubtless had some special importance in Greek measures. The pitch is, as we say, double pitch in respect of length of pipe, so that the low B♭ is truly the four foot note; but we speak, in general terms, of the scale given by the pipes as a two foot scale. It is a pity that, as at present disposed in the case, the pipes are unsuitably placed, being head to tail,—as annoying to look at in an instrumental regard, as to an archæologist it would be to see a statue exhibited standing on its head. But perhaps I may get this anomalous relation altered, for the observer misses the proper relation of the flutes to each other. The nature of the beating reed greatly affects the scale. That which I have recorded is given by the particular reed I have used; another reed might make one or two tones difference. Again, there is the question whether these pipes had one, or two, or three bulbs, although only one was found. I am inclined to believe that the originals had but one bulb, because the two pipes evidently indicate that one flute was used for one mode, and the other flute for the other mode, with only the difference of a tone between them.
On the whole, I think it may be inferred that tenor A was naturally fixed upon as the starting point of the scale, which had its vocal foundation in every nation. As regards intonation, the notes specified are not exact to our tempered scale, but only as near as the actual pitch heard can be stated in our terms. In the ancient diatonic, all the tones are major tones. In the soft diatonic, an interval equal to a tone and a quarter was used, being greater than a major tone but less than a minor third. In one diatonic genus, the interval of three fourths of a tone was substituted for the second semitone in ascending. Authorities tell us that they are not aware that the Greek writers ever mention the concord of more than two sounds; any concord less than a fourth was considered dissonant, and so was the sixth. The true consonant major third was either not discovered, or not admitted to be consonant, till a very late period; Ptolemy being the earliest author who speaks of a minor third. There was a double tone nearly equal to the modern major third, and a tone and a half nearly the same as the minor third. In the later Greek periods, the system of music became intricate, and the diatonic, chromatic and enharmonic systems were in vogue, and discoursed upon to their lips’ content by the scholiasts and their disciples, much the same as in modern days, beclouding knowledge.
The instruments that we have been interested in were, I should imagine, those of ordinary use in the social life of the people, associated with their ceremonies and entertainments; but the steps by which I have taken you show change in usage and aspiration in the artists. There was even a striving after fuller command in execution, and after adaptability to the increasing range of musical theory; and evidently the stringed instruments, with their power over many modes, excited rivalry in the flutes. There is a very important and significant passage, already referred to, by an author—Athenæus, if I remember aright—that about the 440 B.C. (or earlier), Pronomus the Theban invented adjustments by which the same set of pipes might be fitted to all the modes. History upon many matters we know is very elastic, and I am not quite disposed to think that the flutes depicted on our Etruscan vases answer to this description. There is yet one other possibility, beyond that Greco-Etruscan invention, in a later invention of most ingenious design, aiming at this same power of control, only that this is a single pipe, and is a development beyond those we have been considering. Very pleasant it is to trace these workings of genius
Striving, because its nature is to strive.
The next chapter affords illustrations and particulars of the new discovery; for to the Greeks it was new, and we may be sure interesting. Perhaps to some of them quite as engrossing as a new statue or the latest scandal!