romptu. But it
must be admitted that the tendency to insert local colouring and "gag"
is almost irresistible amongst the Arabs. Dr. Steere notices it as a
characteristic of the story-tellers of the Swahili, a people of mixed
Arab and Negro descent at Zanzibar;[12] and it is perhaps inevitable in
a professional reciter whose audience, like himself, is restless and
vivacious in so high a degree. The only case in which any restraint
would be certain to be felt is where a narrative believed to be of
religious import is given. Under the influence of religious feeling the
most mobile of races become conservative; and traditions of a sacred
character are the most likely of all to be handed down unchanged from
father to son. Directly we get outside the charmed circle of religious
custom, precept, and story, the awe which has the most powerful effect
in preserving tradition intact ceases to work; and we are left to a
somewhat less conservative force of habit to retain the old form of
words and the time-honoured ceremonies. Still this force is powerful;
the dislike of voluntary change forbids amendment even of formularies
which have long ceased to be understood, and have often become
ridiculous because their meaning has been lost. It is by no means an
uncommon thing for the rustic story-teller to be unable to explain
expressions, and indeed whole episodes, in any other way than Uncle
Remus, when called upon to say who Miss Meadows was: "She wuz in de
tale, Miss Meadows en de gals wuz, en de tale I give you like hi't wer'
gun ter me." Dr. Steere, speaking of a collection of Swahili tales by M.
Jablonsky which I think has never been published, tells us that almost
all of the tales had "sung parts," and of some of these even they who
sang them could scarcely explain the meaning. Here we may observe the
connection with the folk-song; and it is a strong evidence of adherence
to ancient tradition. Frequently in Dr. Steere's own experience the
skeleton of the story seemed to be contained in these snatches of song,
which were connected together by an account, apparently extemporized, of
the intervening history. In these latter portions, if the hypothesis of
extemporization were correct, the words of course would be different,
but the substance might remain untouched. I suspect, however, that the
extemporization was nothing like so complete as the learned writer
imagined, but rather that the tale, as told with song and narrative
mingled, w