ABSTRACT
In the winter of 1863 a choir of “Fingoes and Hottentots” caused quite a stir in the small Cape colonial city of Grahamstown. One of the first performances by a black choir in the Cape’s second city, it was no everyday concert, and “the elite of the musical inhabitants” accordingly turned out in their curious droves. Equally extraordinary was the lengthy review that appeared in The Grahamstown Journal, the Cape’s largest circulating paper. Less music criticism than social commentary, it discoursed on what slightly later would be called the “Native Question.” The performance illustrated “several facts of social importance . . . each of which would constitute a fertile theme for the metaphysician, or the student in moral philosophy.” In the event, the report concerned itself with the more immediate, practical lessons to be drawn:
First is demonstrated a truth of no ordinary importance, at a moment when the taming of our savage neighbors is looked upon by many as an utter impossibility, namely, the capacity of these savages for civilization. Next, we are struck by the fact that music has been able in a few short weeks to subdue and discipline natures so wild and intractable that moral teaching, law, and even our holy religion itself have laboured for years to conquer them with but very inadequate success.2
