Year: 1859

The only musical population of this
country are the negroes of the South.
Here at the North we have teachers in
great number, who try to graft the love of
music upon the tastes of our colder race.
But their success is only limited A few
good singers are produced, and some fine
instrumental performers, but the thing nev-
er becomes general. Music may, per-
chance, be the fashion for winter; but it
does not grow to popular enthusiasm. 1t
never becomes habit or passion of the
people We are still dependent on for
eigners for our music. Italian singers fill
our concert-rooms, and German bands par
ade our streets.


Throughout the country, the same holds
true. Singing masters itinerate from vii
lage to village, to give instructions in the
tuneful art but the most they can muster
is score or two of men and maidens to
sing in church on Sunday. Brother Jonathan
is awkward at the business, and sings only
on set occasions. Let him be enrolled in
the ranks of the choir, and placed in the
front of the gallery, and he will stand up like
a grenadier, and roll out Justify the strains
of psalm. But all his singing is done in
public. He makes little music at home, or
at most only on the Sabbath day Dur
ing the week his melodies are unheard
He does not 90 to his labor singing to him.
self along the road. No song of home or
country, of love or war, escapes his lips, as
he goes to his shop or follows the plow
Our mechanics work in silence, like con-
victs in a penitentiary. They go to their
tasks, not with free and joyous spirit that
bursts into song, but with a stern, resolute,
determined air, as if they had battle 20
fight, or great difficulties to overcome.


Even the gentler sex, who ought to have
most of poetry and music, seem strangely
Indifferent to it. Young ladies who have
spent years in learning to play on the pi-
ano and sing Italian airs, drop both as soon
as they are married. Enter their houses a
few months later, and they tell you that
they are out of practice they have for
gotten their music, their pianos are uno-
pened, and their harps are unstrung


Compared with our taciturn race, the
African nature is full of poetry and song.
The negro is natural musician. He will
learn to play on an instrument more quick
ly than white man. They have magni-
fcent voices, and sing without instruction.
They may not know one note from anoth-
er, vet their ears catch the strains of any
floating air, and they repeat it by imita-
ton. The native melody of their voices
falls without art into the channel of song.
They go singing to their daily labor. The
maid sings about the house, and the labor
er sings in the field.


z Besides their splendid organs of voices,
the African nature is full of poetry. lnfe-
rior to the white race in reason and intel
lect, they have more imagination, more
lively feelings, and more expressive
manner. In this they resemble the South
ern nations of Europe Their JOY and
grief are not pent up in the heart, but find
instant expression in their eyes and voices.
With their imagination, they clothe in
rude poetry the incidents of their lowly
life, and set them to simple melodies. Thus
they sing their humble loves in strains full
of tenderness. We at the north hear these
songs only as burlesqued by our negro
minstrels, with faces blackened with char
coal. Yet even thus all feel that they
have rare sweetness and melody.


Mingled with these love songs are ma
ny plaintive airs, which seem to have
caught tone of sadness and pathos from
the hardships and frequent separations Of