Part 8
All know what is meant by vocal sounds, yet few, I repeat, know what are simple sounds, though constantly used by everybody while whispering or uttering exclamations, while surprised, alarmed, frightened, etc. My accomplishment, therefore, is but the _recognition_ of the nature of a thing constantly before us and brought to our consciousness through our ear.
Simple sounds are the anodes, the beginnings of sounds. There is no life in them, no rhythm, no melody, no light, no grace, no beauty. These are imparted to them by the fusion of the cathode element of vocal sounds with this, the anode; the spiritual with the material. The anode is formed first. It is the passive element, the female, the patient, the waiting, which must have been before the male, the impatient, the aggressive. The thing to be fructified must have been before that which fructifies.
The anode is quiescent until the cathode comes along, joins it, and infuses life into it. The creation of a vocal sound is an act of generation. The cathode, after overwhelming the anode, penetrates it and diffuses itself throughout it, and thus forms a union whose result is the production of a vocal sound. Similar unions between anodes and cathodes are formed a myriad-fold every moment during time's progress, and result in the creation of an electric spark, or a succession of sparks, called an electric light, or any other light or fire, or of a thought, or of the embryo to a new life of any and every description, etc.; while a discord, a stutter, a _smouldering_ fire, the sight of a thing too dimly seen to be recognized, a cut or broken limb, a suspense, a disappointment, a _suppressed_ action or passion, etc., are anodes not joined by their cathodes. By the juncture of a cathode with an anode we exercise our faculties, we become conscious of a sight, a sound, an odor, a taste, etc.; the anode being vested in the thing to be seen, heard, smelled, or tasted,--the cathode in ourselves.
_While the anode of a vocal sound may be uttered audibly, the cathode, by itself, cannot be uttered--the spiritual cannot be materialized except in conjunction with the material._ The anode, the physical, is inert until the cathode, the spiritual, has formed a juncture with it, has been alloyed with it. Every phenomenon of which we become conscious is the result of a process of this nature. The more perfect the union, the more perfect the outcome or result, the phenomenon.
In our ordinary speech this alloy, this union, is of a mutable and evanescent, in oratory and song it is of a more continuous and lasting, nature. With persons speaking a foreign tongue, and with the deaf, it is superficial, imperfect; in many cases, in fact, we hear only anodes, no union having been effected. The amalgamation, the alloy of the finer with the coarser, the higher with the lower, the spiritual with the material, is not at all or but imperfectly performed; the coarser element prevails and makes its presence felt in every utterance. The more perfect the union between anodes and cathodes in vocal utterance, the higher will be the performance, the more perfect the speech, the more beautiful the song, the more stirring, the more soulful; the nearer they come to our hearts.
How do I know all this? I will tell you: By watching the _beginning_ of a vocal sound; the performance actually going on within us, while such sound is first being created. This performance is of an inverse order as between German and English, in so far as the anode for German vocal sounds is located to the right, the cathode to the left. The cathode approaches the anode from left to right; while in the creation of an English vocal sound the anode is to the left, the cathode to the right, and the latter approaches the former from right to left. The location where the union _appears_ to take place is in the chest, near the heart; for German sounds, to the right thereof, for English to the left. As a matter of fact, however, it is in the heart itself.
What does the motion in which anode and cathode approach each other--which is not direct as it at first appears to the observer, but vastly circuitous--signify?
The circulation through the vascular system of the elements (of the æther) creating vocal sounds, or the _circulation of vocal sounds_. The proofs that this important fact actually obtains will be furnished very positively and very circumstantially at a later date in connection with that part of these expositions which treats on vocal sounds.
OUR MOTHER TONGUE
Nature will have its right always. What is this right in regard to vocal utterance? It is the manner in which we breathe. When we violate nature's right in our mode of breathing for vocal expression, our penalty is that such expression will not be what it is intended to be, what it should be; the idiomatic expression of every language being the outcome of a special mode of breathing for the same.
_All_ my observations in the first instance owe their origin to the fact that I was breathing in a manner directly opposite to the one in which it was necessary for me to breathe to correctly produce the idiomatic expression of the English language. It was not until after this fact had become clear to my mind that I began to extract from my organs of speech those sounds which appear so abnormally different and "strange" to the ear of the bewildered foreigner, who finds himself completely at a loss how to produce them. The better he becomes acquainted with the language, the more thoroughly he becomes convinced of the fact that his mode of speaking English is different from that of the native-born. Nor will a German _ever_ succeed in speaking English as it should be spoken until he succeeds in _reversing_ his mode of breathing. He must go straight to the antipodes in sound production; he must stand on his head, so to say, instead of on his feet. I shall fully explain what this means later on.
I venture to make the assertion that no other person besides myself has ever learned to pronounce a foreign language _idiomatically correct_, as I have, by means of applying to his mode of speaking rules based on actual knowledge or scientific principles. In this manner I have succeeded in learning to speak English with less of the tinge of a foreign accent adhering to my speech than usually is the case with foreigners who have commenced to speak it as late in life as I did. I do not say this vauntingly, for I do not consider this accomplishment in itself as of a very high order; but I say it to vindicate my claim that I have discovered the principles on which the production of language is based, and offer my personal pronunciation of the English language to which these principles have been applied as a proof that I have done so. I am still learning, however, for it takes time and practice and a great deal of patience to dislodge the old habit from its wonted haunts and to assign its quarters to a foreign guest. My old familiar dwelling has thus become a lodging for the English language, though I can return to it at will with my old and dearly beloved mother tongue and be comfortable therein.
The foreign guest, however, who came to dwell therein, does not use my native home, in his mode of entering it or going forth from it, in the old familiar way, nor does he use the same apartments for the same purposes. He enters at the back gate while I used to enter at the front; he leaves it at the front gate while I left at the back. He opens his shutters to the east, while I used to look out from the west, etc. Such differences as these in our mode of breathing exist throughout the entire length and breadth of both languages. The sounds we have imbibed in our early youth, however, will always be more familiar and nearer to us and dearer than those of any other language, no matter how closely the latter may enter into our lives and our being at a later period.
NATIONAL TRAITS OF CHARACTER
What constitutes a given number of people a nation, besides their history, their political organization, and the geographical position of their territory? What makes every member belonging to a nation, whether he lives within its territory or has emigrated therefrom, a different being from every member of any other nation? What makes each member of a nation resemble every other member thereof, not only in regard to vocal expression but also in regard to general cast of features, build of body, movements, gesticulations, etc., and in what may be summed up as national traits of character?
No one will deny the fact that such differences exist, as between Germans, Frenchmen, and Englishmen, for instance. This difference is not racial, as they all belong to the Caucasian race. It can scarcely be climatic with nations whose territory is adjacent to each other; nor is it likely to be religious, historical, or political. There is nothing very decidedly different in the situation and composition of these various nations and the individuals of which they are composed, except their _language_.
I maintain that language is not only the main point of difference, but that it is the cause and origin of all other main points of difference. As language is the main gift which distinguishes men from animals, so it is also the principal distinguishing mark as between one nation and another. I maintain, and expect to prove, that the language--that is, any specific language--acquired in childhood becomes an integral part of a person's organization, as positively so as any of his other natural faculties; and that he cannot change it, that is, _in an idiomatically correct manner_, without changing, to some extent, the drift of his entire organism. As soon as I began to succeed in speaking the English language as it is spoken in this country, idiomatically correct, I changed my nature, to some extent, from that of a German to that of an American; nor is it possible to learn to speak any language idiomatically correct without undergoing a similar change. Not alone my mode of vocal expression, but my motions, my habits, nay, my very _features_, yes, even my way of _thinking_, in some respects, have been subjected to such a change; modified, of course, by heredity, previous habits, and the constant reversion of all this by the frequent recurrence to my native tongue. In using the term "idiomatically correct" I mean of course that mode of expression which is peculiar to a language, its general cast, and which is representative of its genius and spirit.
To what do I attribute so powerful an influence?
It is not easy to say this comprehensively in a few words. I will say this much, however: That, language being the outcome of streams of the vital fluid passing into and out of our composition in a systematic manner, each system varying with every other system, our vital organs are differently affected, in conformity with the manner and the rotation in which these streams reach these different organs; in other words, in conformity with the manner in which we breathe for our language. This influence is not confined to the vocal expression of a _nation_. It is influential with and extends to the special mode of vocal expression in separate districts, provinces, localities, and cities; nay, it extends to families and single members belonging to such families, each separate member's expression being the product of his special mode of breathing, and differing in some respects from that of every other member of the same family; _such difference in the mode of breathing being the reflection of every individual soul_.
The bent of the soul in _individual_ cases determines the flow of these streams, the same as the bent of the _national_ soul determines the same for the entire nation. Or, which perhaps would be more correct, the flow of these streams determines the bent of the individual as well as national soul. The influence being reciprocal, it would be difficult to state, as it is with all matters of this kind, _which_ preponderates, _which_ gives the first impulse. It is of the same order as the old question (never to be solved) aptly expressed in the homely query, "Which was created first, the hen or the egg?"
It is interesting to note the manner in which the vital streams affecting the character of the two peoples in regard to whom I have had the opportunity for many years of making my observations, the Anglo-Saxon and the German, take their course. With the former the point of gravitation is located in the abdomen; with the latter in the thorax.
This gives the Anglo-Saxon a circuitous route for his expression in coming to the surface; his mode of respiration being the following:
He inspires into the thorax posteriorly, next into the abdomen anteriorly. He then expires from the abdomen posteriorly, and from the thorax anteriorly; vocal expression accompanying the last movement.
A German's mode of respiration is as follows: He inspires into the abdomen posteriorly, expiring from the abdomen anteriorly; he then inspires into the thorax anteriorly and expires from the same posteriorly, the latter movement only being accompanied by sound. You will notice that in the former case the breath to be expired and to be accompanied by sound has been held in the thorax until the abdomen has gone through an inspiration and an expiration; while with Germans, inspiration into the abdomen as well as into the thorax are succeeded by expiration from the same, a direct proceeding as against the indirect of the Anglo-Saxon. Thus the former secures a force reserved and held and to be drawn upon as it is needed, while the latter pours forth his vital force in a continuous stream as soon as it is engendered.
The point of gravitation determines the mode of breathing and the production of vocal utterance. With Anglo-Saxons, the point of gravitation being located in the abdomen, their speech tends from below, upward; with Germans, the point of gravitation being located in the thorax, their speech tends from above, downward. The direction of Anglo-Saxon expression is from the abdomen, where it has its root, to the thorax; that of the German is from the thorax, where it has its root, to the abdomen. It will scarcely be necessary for me to say to the reader, over and over again, "Try this," "Try that"; I wish it to be understood, once for all, that this recommendation is to be tacitly implied as accompanying every statement, every proposition, every assertion I make. Personally I can go through any one and all of the performances at any time and at a moment's notice. In making these experiments, speak or sing _after_ breathing in the prescribed manner. The prescribed manner being the one in which the _impression_ is made and from which the _expression_ is produced as a matter of course and of necessity. An Anglo-Saxon will not be able to utter a word spoken or sung in _his_ language after breathing in the _German_ fashion, nor will a German be able to do so in _his_ language after breathing in the _Anglo-Saxon_ manner. Change either manner of breathing but in the least, and you will not be able to express yourself in either German or English; but you may thus be able to express yourself in some other language. It is, of course, understood that we breathe into the abdomen through the œsophagus, into the thorax through the trachea.
In trying propositions like the one now under consideration, it may not be easy for persons who have not previously given any thought to matters of this kind to successfully try them. You must give yourself up to these things, must be _at home_ for them only, for a period at least, until you have become thoroughly engrossed with them. It is not a study to be superficially attained. You must enter into it with your whole soul, your entire being. If you do, you will eventually become as familiar with the principles underlying these matters as you are with the letters of the alphabet, or the figures representing the numerals, and be able to apply the same in as easy a manner and for as various purposes as you do these.
Their _indirect_ mode of breathing of Anglo-Saxons produces a deliberate mode of speech; while German breathing, being _direct_, produces a speech as rapid in its formation as in its utterance. _Action being the counterpoise of speech, is of the inverse order of the latter. English speech being slow and deliberate, English action is rapid and direct; German speech being rapid and direct, German action is slow and deliberate._ English character, the same as English speech, is distinguished by patience and forbearance; these, when finally exhausted, are succeeded by sudden and violent outbreaks. German character, the same as German speech, is alternately exuberant and depressed; contented, but also of a disposition to find fault whenever the occasion may arise.
Anglo-Saxons, in consequence of their _indirect_ mode of expression, are in possession of a reserve force always at their command, but only called upon on special occasions; hence long-continued forbearance, and then--a blow for liberty. With Germans, in consequence of their _direct_ mode of expression, their vital force is continuously being engendered, and as continuously being exhausted. Hence, they are in the habit of constantly protesting, and as constantly submitting to the _status quo_.
The character of Anglo-Saxons, in viewing things from a practical standpoint, is as far removed from the ideal as it is from the pessimistic. It is neither exuberant, overstrained, exalted, nor despondent; but cool, well balanced, and matter-of-fact. It is not like the German:
"Himmelhoch jauchzen, zu Tode betruebt." ("Raised to the sky with delight; Depressed to the ground with despair.")
A German is influenced according to whether he can or cannot, while losing sight of the real, satisfy his craving for the ideal, for which, in his direct and impulsive nature, he is constantly yearning; which the Anglo-Saxon, seeing it is beyond his reach, abandons as impracticable.
To comprehend the ideal of whatsoever nature, the German, with endless patience, tries to solve the most complicated problems; after solving them he is often satisfied with the result in the abstract; while the practical Anglo-Saxon uses this result for his utilitarian purposes. The philosophical German patiently unravels a Gordian knot; the practical Anglo-Saxon, "Alexander-like, cuts it in two with his sword" ("Wie Alexander haut ihn auseinander"). Germans love education for its own sake; it makes of them superior beings, giving them treasures more highly prized than any others, and far more lasting. Anglo-Saxons, on the other hand, get their education for a purpose, and with a view to their worldly advancement. While with Germans education is "Selbstzweck" (its reward consisting in its possession), with Anglo-Saxons its reward consists in its application. The question so often agitated in this country, whether a university education may or may not be of benefit (that is, in furthering his worldly advancement) to any one not intending to embrace one of the learned professions, would never arise in Germany; practical value and education being things apart, the latter taking first rank always and never being subordinated to the former.
Schiller says:
"[Der Edle] _legt_ das Hohe in das Leben, Doch er sucht es nicht darin."
("[Our aim should be] the noble to inculcate into life, And not to search for it therein.")
I am inclined to think that the opposite of this is the usual tendency with Anglo-Saxons.
Many other causes might be cited, many other results. These, however, must answer the present purpose, which is, to show that the course taken by the vital streams in breathing, besides affecting their speech, affects the _character_ of nations.
All this might be summed up in saying: The point of gravitation with Anglo-Saxons being located in the abdomen, which represents the material side of life, their being is primarily rooted in the material, and reaches the ideal by way of the material. The German, on the other hand, having his point of gravitation in the thorax, which represents the spiritual part of our existence, reaches the material by way of the ideal, in which _his_ being is primarily rooted.
I owe the reader an apology for anticipating in using the terms "streams of life" and "the point of gravitation." These are not words without a definite meaning, however; on the contrary, they are of the greatest significance and of a very definite meaning. Still, I must tax his patience for a proper explanation thereof till I shall be able to reach them in due course of time. We cannot approach the steep crest of a hill by a straight line of ascent, but must patiently wind around and around its circumference to be able to finally reach its summit.
THE AMERICAN NATION
It will require but a single example, familiar to all, to still more forcibly show that it is _language_ through whose agency national traits of character and physical development are produced. How do you suppose that the wonder has been wrought, and is still daily being worked, of the great mass of humanity reaching these shores from foreign lands being merged into one homogeneous nation? The remark is often made that "it is the climate." If it were the climate, or other conditions specifically belonging to this country, how is it that foreigners coming here at maturity always remain foreigners, while their offspring born and bred here become Americans? Even children born elsewhere, but coming here at an early age, soon become "Americanized," while their parents remain foreigners always. These children must have taken a potent draught, not partaken of by their parents, to not only change their mode of vocal but also of physical expression; nay, the vital expression of their entire being. That draught is the English language. Most foreigners respectively married to an American wife or husband, and rearing a family of American children, remain foreigners to the end of their lives.
It often happens that parents of foreign birth cannot comprehend the character and actions of their own children, who are _so_ different, being superficial and frivolous, where they are deep and sound; cool and calculating where they are fire and flame. Yet these children possess sterling qualities of another kind which their parents do not possess.
I call to mind two brothers, sons of German parents, born in this country. With the eldest-born the German influence was potent. He was made to speak German at home and at school, and is to-day, though married to an American, more German in his manner and appearance than American, while his mode of speaking the English language also has something "German" in it. His brother, on the other hand, more particularly reared under native influences, is a thorough American. There was nothing in this case but the influence of language which could have caused this difference. Similar examples might be cited endlessly.