Part 6
The knowledge of the reversion of the functional exercise of our organs of sense is of signal importance in connection with motion and vocal utterance, which always go hand in hand; every utterance being accompanied by a motion, though not always visible to the eye. In truly artistic delivery these motions are brought to the highest perfection; and visibly, though often in great moderation, accompany _every_ inflection of the voice.
To be able to see a thing at all, we must be in a relatively proper position with the object to be seen; we must be on the same plane with it. We must also have light, not only for the latter, but by reflection therefrom also for ourselves. In addition we must have the inner light enabling us to comprehend what we have seen. I contend that for the study of spiritual-material as well as material-spiritual phenomena, such light has always been wanting for the thing to be seen, as well as for the orb to see and consequently for the spirit to comprehend. In attempting to comprehend, and to explain appearances, physiologically, we have been looking in our exterior world, where we cannot, in place of our interior world, where we might be able to see and to observe. We have been using the outer surface of our eye instead of the inner, with which to see spiritual things. The thing to be seen and the orb with which to see were not on the same "plane." It was impossible to perform the act of _spiritually_ seeing. The proper light once obtained, it has not only illumined for me the things to be seen, but also my capacity for seeing and comprehending them. Roentgen has taught us the method of seeing material things through opaque bodies. I have learned to recognize spiritual phenomena in opaque bodies, created, as they are, by a combination of spiritual and material factors. While I have made use of this gift for a special study--that of vocal utterance--I incline to think that it may be made use of for the study of not only all the various material-spiritual phenomena to be observed in the nature of organic bodies in general and man's in particular, but also of our relations with the unseen and unknown world and its forces, in which our essence has its being, whence it comes, and to which it returns. In minutely explaining my mode of proceeding, it is also my special desire to rob it of any appearance of "supernaturalness" some persons might be inclined to invest it with. Though I cannot explain many things connected with the voice from an entirely naturalistic standpoint, I think they are all explainable if the proper amount of study and observation be given to them. This, as a matter of course, does not, however, include the operations of the mind proper, which are governed by laws beyond any human understanding.
INSPIRATION--EXPIRATION
The entire mechanism of our being, more especially that of our faculties and functions, is primarily excited through openings into which air is inspired, from which air is expired. These openings are connected with channels and vessels which are passive or negative during inspiration; active or positive during expiration. Thus the multiform streams of air introduced into our system communicate with parts thereof, which, by their construction and intercommunication with others, are specially adapted for the exercise of any special faculty or function. Our will directs these streams of air to flow into their proper channels (and they automatically obey) for the guidance of our steps in a certain direction, for the production of a given sound, the recognition of a given sight, the sensation of a peculiar odor, taste, or feeling, or the excitation of a passion, a compassion, or any other sensation, feeling, or thought whatsoever. These streams of air, therefore, are of an order as multiform as the complex web of our material and spiritual existence, and are introduced through thousands of different channels and in thousands of different ways.
To confine our mode of physical and spiritual existence to a single stream of air introduced into the oral cavity, or the nostrils, and thence into the lungs, appears to me to be as primitive a proceeding and as narrow a view as can possibly be taken of one of the greatest subjects our understanding is called upon to deal with. In place of that, I have positive proof that the streams of air which flow into these openings are of the most multiform nature; every sight, odor, taste, touch, and every sound, and fraction of a sound even, calling for a special stream of air which no other stream can furnish or supply. Besides the oral cavity and the nostrils, the eyes, ears, and every additional opening, down to an almost invisible pore or capillary vessel, are recipients of special streams intended for special purposes. _We breathe through the soles of our feet and the palms of our hands, as well as through the skull of our heads. The closer we guard our body against the influence of the air, by means of unnaturally close-woven and air-tight clothing, the less capable we become of exercising our natural faculties and functions._
To this subject I shall devote time and attention at some future period, more especially in connection with vocal utterance, as it has everything to do with the production of sounds, which proceed in part from within, outwardly, and in part from without, inwardly. In so doing, positive becomes negative and negative positive; inspiration and expiration equalize each other, and thus a continuous flow of speech becomes possible, while if the flow were continuously in one and the same direction it would soon come to an absolute stop.
It is this that science has done for us: It has clogged up all these natural avenues to our existence by teaching that we breathe through the trachea alone, in consequence of the muscle of the diaphragm forming an air-tight partition between the upper and lower compartments of our bodies; being ignorant of the fact of that other great tube of the œsophagus, also opening into the oral cavity, performing the same functions for the abdomen which the trachea does for the thorax. In place of all these millions of openings through which we inspire and expire, science teaches that we breathe through a single tube, into and out of an _air-tight sack_,--a mechanically impossible proceeding. By some ill-defined process, air is supposed to find its way into the thorax and out again after depositing its oxygen in the blood-vessels. Meanwhile, the balance of our body is left to shift for itself, not the slightest particle of fresh food ever finding its way into any portion thereof, except indirectly through the blood-vessels. To my simple and untaught understanding it appears that if such a state of affairs really existed--no matter how rapid the circulation of the blood--the entire hemisphere of the abdomen would be given over to putrefaction in an exceedingly short space of time.
Breathing, however, as we do, through the œsophagus, in like measure with the trachea, and through every other opening in our epidermis in addition, our body is constantly, uninterruptedly, permeated with fresh air in its every avenue, vessel, capillary tube, cell, etc., which sustains us by its life-giving qualities, and takes away with it the constantly accumulating refuse.
The muscle of the diaphragm has been the air-tight door to the cell of the condemned, whose portal has been guarded by ignorance and every oppression, suppression, fear, superstition, anxiety, bigotry, narrowness, prejudice, etc., that the human mind is capable of. It has given us over to self-accusation as a natural and vital element. It has shut us up into the narrowest limits, and kept us from communing with the universe and the spirit of the universe. It has excluded from us the grace, the beauty, the light, the liberty, the eternity of the _spirit_, and prevented us from recognizing ourselves as integral parts of the universe and of the causes which sustain it and sustain us. It has prevented us from communing with them as free agents _in our own name and by our own right_, without interference or the intercession of any person or agency whatsoever, in the past or the present.
Have I placed too great a value on the discovery of the "voice of the œsophagus"?
I feel convinced that the further exposition of my observations will justify me in all I have said.
DIAPHRAGMS
As the trunk has its diaphragm, dividing thorax and abdomen, so do all dual hemispheres representing a faculty or function have their diaphragms, performing duties of an analogous nature. _Every_ opening, in fact, has its diaphragm. Where there is none visible, it is formed by contraction, whenever needed, and but for the time being. All these various diaphragms, more particularly the one specially bearing that name, are of the greatest importance in connection with vocal utterance,--the sounds of the vessels of the abdomen being produced by an expansion of the thorax and consequent contraction of the abdomen, those of the vessels of the thorax by an expansion of the abdomen and a consequent contraction of the thorax.
For the purposes of vocal utterance, inspiration into the thorax produces an expiration from the abdomen by way of the œsophagus, accompanied by vocal sound, while an inspiration into the abdomen produces an expiration from the thorax by way of the trachea, accompanied by vocal sound; the special _mode_ of inspiration regulating the special sound to be produced.
This proceeding has reference to outgoing sounds only. For ingoing sounds the opposite proceeding takes place; an expiration from the thorax producing an inspiration into the abdomen, and an expiration from the abdomen an inspiration into the thorax, both accompanied by sound. Every original inspiration into thorax or abdomen, of course, must have been preceded by an expiration from these parts, while every original expiration must have been preceded by an inspiration into the same. The utterance of every sound, therefore, requires at least three movements on the part of the respiratory organs. But for the action of the diaphragm, such sounds could not be produced.
All these various diaphragms fall or recede for inspiration, rise or advance for expiration; the function of a diaphragm being exercised in conformity with the manner in which it is approached. This may be done by way of the œsophagus or the trachea, _i. e._, from the side of the hemisphere of the abdomen, or from that of the thorax. The outward movement of the abdomen during respiration, therefore, is not caused by a pressure brought to bear on its contents by the diaphragm, but it advances and recedes in conformity with a direct process of inspiration and expiration by way of the œsophagus and the trachea; the œsophagus and trachea sustaining each other and acting reciprocally and in conjunction. This presumed pressing forward and subsequent receding of the entrails, in consequence of the descent and ascent of the diaphragm, presents a spectacle as repugnant as it is impossible of execution; the extension of the abdomen, more particularly in connection with special sounds, being so great that no pressure whatever brought to bear upon the entrails could possibly produce it.
In place of this theory, now so generally entertained, the simple fact obtains that the diaphragm descends in consequence of an influx of air into and subsequent expansion of the thorax, causing a contraction of the abdomen and an efflux of air from the same; that it ascends in consequence of an influx of air into and expansion of the abdomen, causing a contraction of the thorax and an efflux of air from the same.
IMPRESSION AND EXPRESSION
All vocal expression is but an echo, the echo of a thought. Thought _must_ precede vocal expression. It is not possible to produce a vocal sound, not the simplest, without thought. There is no such thing as a voice _ipso facto_, no more than there is music in a musical instrument unless it is called forth by the hand of the player. Try it. Come upon a sound suddenly, around the corner, as it were, and then express it. Do not give it a moment's time for its development; that is, do not give thought time to mould a form for it, but try to utter it in embryo, so to say, the very moment you think of it, and you will not be able to do it. You will not produce any sound whatever.
It is as necessary to form a mould for a sound as it is for any shaped and moulded material article. Out of this mould it comes forth in conformity with the form we have given it: harsh, abrupt, discordant--rhythmical, beautiful, soulful. Such as the thought is, so will be the expression. In ordinary conversation this proceeding is automatic and mechanical, in elocution or song more or less volitional and artistic. That is to say, for ordinary speech it acts automatically, for artistic utterance it acts designedly. Materially, the mould is convex, shut, for ingoing; concave, open, for outgoing sounds. It expands for the former, it contracts for the latter. Vocal sounds are a product of matter as well as mind; the act itself which produces them being a connecting link between matter and mind. The soul calls on the body to aid it in giving form to its desires and intentions; the body instantly obeys and assumes the form from which the expected sound or action is to arise.
No matter how great a soul may be, unless it can give form and consequent utterance to its greatness, it will be helpless, far more so than the simplest soul capable of giving expression to its simplicity. Confined to our own limits, like the congenital deaf, our faculties become dwarfed and useless. We do not know ourselves, do not know our own souls. We must expand, go out into the world and take it in, if we want to grow and give our faculties a chance to develop.
The greater our horizon, the more we can take in, the more we can give out. Our soul is scarcely ours when enchained; the greater its liberty, the more it belongs to us. Hence our just pity for the congenital deaf, and our desire to assist them in their efforts at expression. Those among them who are being, or have been, tutored, receive their impressions through their eyes in the form assumed by the speaker's mouth; the eye assuming the function of the ear. The form assumed by their teacher's mouth, however, not being perfect, a perfect impression cannot be made. Hence the expression of the deaf is in conformity with the impression they have obtained: mechanical, material, soulless. The exterior lines of the mouth of the teacher, or any other speaker's from which the deaf draw their inspiration, are those of the material side of the medal. Failing to see the reverse side thereof, namely, the interior of the mouth, which is its spiritual side, the lines of the latter make no impression upon them. These fine lines on the interior side of the speaker's mouth, representing the rhythm, the soul of the voice, not being seen, fail to make that impression from which alone a soulful expression could arise.
That an _impression_ may be made through the eye will scarcely require a defense, in view of the fact that in reading aloud or in singing from notes the _entire_ impression is made through the eye. The reader or singer, knowing the _value_ of every sound, is impressed by the sight of a letter or a note as he would be by the sound itself. Not so with the congenital deaf, who, being ignorant of such value, cannot reproduce it. Nor will it be contended, I suppose, that the deaf knowingly, designedly, or volitionally attempt to imitate the forms assumed by the teacher's mouth, but it will be admitted that this is done spontaneously, and that vocal sounds with them arise from this imperfect mechanism, thus involuntarily reproduced.
With the congenital deaf, with persons attempting to speak a foreign language, etc., the material form, as well as the spiritual impetus, being imperfect, the expression will be in conformity therewith. In how far and in what manner these investigations may become helpful to the deaf will be a matter for the not distant future to develop. That they will eventually become of the greatest aid to them I have every reason to believe. Those who have made a study of matters of this kind understand the difficulties surrounding the same. These difficulties are increased manifold where the ear of the scholar absolutely refuses to come to his own and his teacher's aid.
There are forms in which vocal sounds move, well defined and capable of material representation, which are not fully expressed by the shape of the teacher's mouth, nor are they thus expressed by impressions taken by the aid of the camera. Regarding the latter, it is necessary to note that photographic representations of vocal sounds are the result of the combined action of the voice of the œsophagus and of that of the trachea, of material and immaterial factors. Just in how far the latter are capable of being thus represented must, as yet, remain a matter of conjecture.
An attempt at reconciling photographic representations of vocal sounds with the oscillations of the vocal cords is, at most, a one-sided proceeding. To arrive at any correct conclusion at all, it would be necessary to take the vibrations of the "vocal lip" and the frænum into equal consideration.
Regarding our capacity for improving the natural physical and psychical capabilities of the musical instrument of the voice, that depends upon the manner in which we play upon it. As it yields to the slightest pressure of the air, either for good or for evil, we must, above all things, learn how to guide the tip of our tongue in touching its aërial strings or keys, which are far more sensitive than those of any instrument ever produced by the hand of man. It takes years to attain a mastery over the simplest musical instrument; yet it is often expected that the instrument of the voice should yield to the most careless efforts made in the most wilful and indiscriminate manner.
The _thought_ of a sound, after _producing_ an impression, _guides_ the tongue in _releasing_ such impression. Unless the tongue touches or moves towards the exact spot which will effect such release, the expression or the sound will not be forthcoming. That the impression, as well as its release, should be properly made, it is necessary to _think_ of the sound which is to be produced, in the most precise and correct manner. I cannot sufficiently impress upon the reader's mind the importance this simple lesson conveys. If he will shape his manner of vocal utterance, especially his mode of singing, in conformity therewith, he will be able to improve his voice to a far greater extent than he would by following any or all of the realistic methods now in vogue. This _thinking_ of the correct sound must be carried on for the _next_ syllable during the _production_ of the previous one; and care must be taken not to think of more than one syllable at one and the same time. Unless this is done, no pure sound will ever be produced, the impression made by thinking of a second or third syllable overlapping that for the next following; thus producing a muddle and a discord. Rhythm being the basis for all perfect vocal utterance, a rhythmic impression must be made in order to obtain a rhythmic expression. This cannot be done when the former is not preserved in its entire purity until it is released.
All of us, either during our ordinary speech or during our efforts at artistic expression, are guided by the process just described; unknowingly, unwittingly, properly or improperly, for good or for evil, pursuing this same course. I cannot enter upon these matters to any greater extent at this time, as it will be necessary to first treat of other matters with which they are intimately connected.
THE PHONOGRAPH
In trying the experiment of coming upon a sound unawares, simply endeavor to divest yourself of all thought, and then suddenly, without any preparation whatever, say "a," or "b," or "it," or any word you wish, and you will not be able to produce such sound or sounds--or, in fact, any sound whatsoever. Or, you may get some one to, of a sudden, produce sounds embodied in letters before your eyes; and you will find you will be unable to utter them instantly. While you cannot thus produce a vocal sound, or vocal sounds embodied in words, you can produce _simple_ sounds without preparation. As they belong to but one hemisphere, and are consequently not the product of a compound impression, they may be uttered the very moment we think of them. While they are being uttered, our organs of speech are "shut," far more so than they are for _vocal_ sounds.
Consonant sounds cannot be uttered "vocally" without a vowel sound. When they appear in a syllable their _accompanying_ vowel sound carries them and permeates them. When they appear singly we add a vowel sound to them. We say: "ar," "be," "en," "ka," etc.; unless we do so we cannot pronounce them. Without such accompanying vowel sound they would be inert.
"Simple" _consonant_ sounds are unaccompanied, not "leavened," by a vowel sound. "Simple" _vowel_ sounds, on the other hand, are unaccompanied by the element which constitutes consonant sounds; while "vocal" _vowel_ sounds _are_ accompanied thereby.
The word "surd," used in connection with non-vocal sounds, does not express the meaning of what I call "simple" sounds, as all sounds may be either "vocal" or "simple," while "surd" applies only to special sounds.
The necessity of making an impression for vocal utterance also prevails in connection with motion. You cannot lift your right foot or your left arm, or make any given motion whatever, the very moment you think of making it. It requires some preparation; though you may lift _part_ of a limb without preparation. A part of a limb in this sense may be compared to a _simple_, the entire limb to a _vocal_, sound. The thought must make an impression by expansion or contraction, which, when released, will express the desired motion; no matter whether such motion is made unconsciously or deliberately. It is more difficult to watch this proceeding in connection with sight; the operations of light being so rapid that the expression seems to be simultaneous with the impression.
Contraction and expansion for motion are of the same order as they are for vocal utterance. In fact, both are so closely connected that we cannot utter a sound unless it is accompanied by a motion. In stopping the motion accompanying a sound, we stop our ability of uttering such sound. I shall have occasion to call attention to numerous conditions under which it will be impossible to utter sounds, either separate or connected, by stopping the motion necessary to produce such sounds. It is all due to the fact that we are homogeneous beings, _whose powers are interdependent upon one another_.
The effect of the teacher's _voice_ upon his or her scholar's organization is of a _similar_ order to that made by _thought_ upon the teacher's own organization. That it is not of the _same_ order is due to the fact that the organization upon which it is made is but rarely constituted the same, is not as highly organized and developed or "schooled," as the one from which the voice emanated. The impression made by the singing-teacher's _voice_ is of the same order as that made upon the deaf by the _features_ of their instructor which are representative of his voice. We are living, breathing _phonographs_. Every impression we receive through any of our senses must be made in a material manner before it can have its immaterial expression. We engrave upon living tissue, instead of on rubber or wax.