The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Volume I Part 29

TO H. E. KREHBIEL

NEW ORLEANS, 1885.

DEAR K.,--Just got a letter from you. Hope my reply to your delightful suggestion was received. I fear I write too often; but I can only write in s.n.a.t.c.hes. Were I to wait for time to write a long letter, the result would be either 0 or something worse.

I have already in my mind a little plan. Let me suggest a long preface, and occasional picturesque notes to your learning and facts. For example, I would commence by treating the negro's musical patriotism--the strange history of the Griots, who furnish so singular an example of musical prost.i.tution, and who, although honoured and petted in one way, are otherwise despised by their own people and refused the rites of burial. Then I would relate something about the curious wanderings of these Griots through the yellow desert northward into the Moghreb country--often a solitary wandering; their performances at Arab camps on the long journey, when the black slaves come out to listen and weep;--then their hazardous voyaging to Constantinople, where they play old Congo airs for the great black population of Stamboul, whom no laws or force can keep within doors when the sound of Griot music is heard in the street. Then I would speak of how the blacks carry their music with them to Persia and even to mysterious Hadramaut, where their voices are held in high esteem by Arab masters. Then I would touch upon the transplantation of negro melody to the Antilles and the two Americas, where its strangest black flowers are gathered by the alchemists of musical science, and the perfume thereof extracted by magicians like Gottschalk. (How is that for a beginning?)

I would divide my work into brief sections of about 1 pages each--every division separated by Roman numerals and containing one particular group of facts.

I would also try to show a relation between negro _physiology_ and negro music. You know the blood of the African black has the highest human temperature known--equal to that of the swallow--although it loses that fire in America. I would like you to find out for me whether the negro's vocal cords are not differently formed, and capable of _longer_ vibration than ours. Some expert professor in physiology might tell you; but I regret to say the latest London works do not touch upon the negro vocal cords, although they do show other remarkable anatomical distinctions.

Here is the only Creole song I know of with an African refrain _that is still sung_:--don't show it to C., it is one of _our_ treasures.

(p.r.o.nounce "Wenday," "makkiyah.")

_Ouende, ouende, macaya!_ Mo pas bara.s.se, _macaya_!

_Ouende, ouende, macaya!_ Mo bois bon divin, _macaya_!

_Ouende, ouende, macaya!_ Mo mange bon poulet, _macaya_!

_Ouende, ouende, macaya!_ Mo pas bara.s.se, _macaya_!

_Ouende, ouende, macaya!_-- _Macaya!_

I wrote from dictation of Louise Roche. She did not know the meaning of the refrain--her mother had taught her, and the mother had learned it from the grandmother. However, I found out the meaning, and asked her if she _now_ remembered. She leaped in the air for joy--apparently.

_Ouendai_ or _ouende_ has a different meaning in the eastern Soudan; but in the Congo or Fiot dialect it means "to go"--"to continue to," "to go on." I found the word in Jeannest's vocabulary. Then _macaya_ I found in Turiault's "Etude sur la Langage Creole de la Martinique:" ca veut dire "manger tout le temps"--"excessivement." Therefore here is our translation:--

Go on! go on! _eat enormously!_ _I_ ain't one bit ashamed--_eat outrageously_!

_Go on! go on! eat prodigiously_!

_I_ drink good wine,--_eat ferociously_!-- Go on! go on!--_eat unceasingly_!-- I eat good chicken--gorging myself!-- Go on! go on! etc.

How is this for a linguistic discovery? The music is almost precisely like the American river-music,--a chant, almost a recitative until the end of the line is reached; then for your mocking-music!

And by the way, in Guyana, there is a mocking-bird more wonderful than ours--with a voice so sonorous and solemn and far-reaching that those Creole negroes who dwell in the great aisles of the forest call it _zozo mon-pe_ (l'oiseau mon-pere), the "My father-bird." But the word father here signifieth a spiritual father--a _ghostly_ father--the "Priest-bird"!

Now dream of the vast cathedral of the woods, whose sanctuary lights are the stars of heaven!

L. H.

TO H. E. KREHBIEL

NEW ORLEANS, 1885.

DEAR KREHBIEL,--You are a terribly neglectful correspondent: I have asked you nearly one hundred questions, not a single one of which you have ever deemed it worth while to answer. However, that makes no matter now,--as none of the questions were very important, certainly not in your estimation. I think you are right about the negro-American music, and that a Southern trip will be absolutely essential,--because I have never yet met a person here able to reproduce on paper those fractional tones we used to talk about, which lend such weirdness to those songs.

The naked melody robbed of these has absolutely no national characteristic. The other day a couple of darkeys from the country pa.s.sed my corner, singing--not a Creole song, but a plain negro ditty--with a recurrent burthen consisting of the cry:--

_Oh! Jee-roo-sa-le-e-em!_

I can't describe to you the manner in which the syllable _lem_ was broken up into four tiny notes, the utterance of which did not occupy one second,--all in a very low but very powerful key. The rest of the song was in a regular descending scale: the _oh_ being very much prolonged and the other notes very quick and sudden. Wish I could write it; but I can't. I think all the original negro-Creole songs were characterized by similar eccentricities. If you could visit a Creole plantation,--and I know Cable could arrange that for you,--you would be able to make some excellent studies.

Cable told me he wanted you to treat these things musically. I am _sure_, however, that his versions of them lack something--as regards rhythm (musical), time, and that s.h.i.+vering of notes into musical splinters which I can't describe. I have never told him I thought so; but I suggest the matter to you for consideration. I think it would be a good idea to have a chat with him about a Southern trip in the interest of these Creole studies. I am also sure that one must study the original Creole-ditty among the full-blooded French-speaking blacks of the country,--not among the city singers, who are too much civilized to retain originality. When the bamboulas were danced there was some real "Congo" music; but the musicians are gone G.o.d knows where. The results of your Southern trip might be something very important. There is a rage in Europe for musical folk-lore. Considering what Gottschalk did with Creole musical themes, it is surprising more attention has not been paid to the ditties of the Antilles, etc. I am told there are stunning treasures of such curiosities in Cuba, Martinique,--all the Spanish and French possessions, but especially the former. The outlook is delightful; but I think with you that it were best to rely chiefly upon _personal_ study. It strikes me the thing ought to be scientifically undertaken,--so as to leave as little as possible for others to improve upon or even to glean. If you care for names of French writers on African music, I can send.

Didst ever hear the music of the Zamacueca?

L. H.

TO H. E. KREHBIEL

NEW ORLEANS, February, 1886.

DEAR KREHBIEL,--Your very brief note was received almost simultaneously with my first perusal of your work in the _Century_. But the Cala-woman's song is, I really think, imaginary. I have the real cry,--six notes and some fractions,--which I will send you when I get a man to write it down. The patate-cry is less African, but very pleasing.

I have been somewhat surprised to discover that the word Voudoo is not African, but the corruption of a South-American mythological term with a singular history--too long to write now, but at your service whenever you may need it.

Plympton has been here on his way to the W. Indies _via_ Florida--a white shadow, a ghost, a Voice,--utterly broken down. I fear his summers are numbered. He will return to his desk only to die, I fancy. A good, large-minded, frank, eccentric man--always a friend to me.

If you are interested in Provencal literature and song, and are not acquainted with Hueffer's "Troubadours" (Chatto & Windus), let me recommend the volume as one of the most compact and scholarly I have yet seen. It is not exactly _new_, but new in its popularity on this side.

His theories are original; his facts, of course, may be all old to you.

Houssaye is not a New Orleans favourite, like Albert Delpit, the Creole,--or Pierre Loti,--or Guy de Maupa.s.sant,--or the leaders of the later schools of erudite romance, such as Anatole France,--or the psychologists of naturalism. Finally, I am sorry to say, the same material saw light months ago in the _Figaro_, and is now quite ancient history to French-speaking New Orleans. However, I have to leave the matter entirely to Page, and the greatest obstacle will be price,--as we usually only pay $5 for foreign correspondence. Picayunish, I know; but Burke will pay $75 for a note from Loti, or a letter from Davitt, just for the name.

Try Roberts Bros, for Tunison. Chatto & Windus, of London, might also like the book;--the only trouble is that in England there is a lurking suspicion (not without foundation) of the untrustworthiness of American work of this kind,--so many things have been done hastily in this country, without that precision of scholars.h.i.+p and leisurely finish indispensable to solid endurance. If they can only be induced to _read_ the MS., perhaps it would be all right. Rivington of London is another enterprising firm in the same line.

I expect to see you this summer--also to send you a volume of Chinese stories. Material is developing well. Won't write again until I can tear and wrench and wring a big letter out of you.

Affectionately, L. HEARN.

TO H. E. KREHBIEL

NEW ORLEANS, February, 1886.

MY DEAR MUSICIAN,--Your letter delighted me. Strange as it may seem to you, the books and papers you sent me, I never received!

I feel a somewhat malicious joy in telling you that the translations you considered so abominable are printed without the least alteration, and also in a.s.suring you that if you can spare time to read them you will like them. Still, I must say that the book is not free from errors, and that were I to do it all over again to-day, I should be able to improve upon it. It is my first effort, however, and I am therefore a little anxious; for to commence one's literary career with a collapse would be very bad. I think I shall see you in New York this summer. I have a project on foot--to issue a series of translations of archaeological and artistic French romance--Flaubert's "Tentation de Saint-Antoine;" De Nerval's "Voyage en Orient;" Gautier's "Avatar;" Loti's most extraordinary African and Polynesian novels; and Baudelaire's "Pet.i.ts Poemes en Prose." If I can get any encouragement, it is not impossible that I might stay in New York awhile; but there is no knowing. I am working steadily toward the realization of one desire--to get rid of newspaper life.

No: I am not writing on music now--only book reviews, French and Spanish translations, and an occasional editorial. The musical reviews of the _Times-Democrat_ are the work of Jean Augustin--one of the few talented Creoles here, who is the author of a volume of French poems, and is personally a fine fellow. We are now very busy writing up the Carnival.

I have charge of the historical and mythological themes,--copies of which I will send you when the paper is printed. One of the themes will interest you as belonging to a novel and generally little known subject; but I have only been able to devote two days apiece to them (four in all), so you will make allowance for rough-and-ready work.

I am very happy to hear you are cozy, and nicely established, and the father of a little one, which I feel sure must inherit physical and mental comeliness of no common sort.

I cannot write as I wish to-day, as Carnival duties are pressing. So I will only thank you for your kindness, and conclude with a promise to do better next time.

Your friend and admirer, L. HEARN.

By the way, would you like a copy of De l'Isere's work on diseases of the voice, and the _rapports_ between s.e.xual and vocal power? I have a copy for you, but you must excuse its badly battered condition. I have built up quite a nice library here; and the antiquarians bring me odd things when they get them. This is one, but it has been abused.

L. H.