principle to the knowledge which is the object of both. Wisdom, in fact,
studies the principle in its consequences, while reason studies the
consequences in the principle, hence it comes that wisdom and reason are
often at war with each other; hence also the obscurity which generally
prevails as to the distinction between them. Let us say that _wisdom_
and _reason_ are to intelligence what æsthetics and semeiotics are to
art. Let us add to this parallel that _wisdom_ and _reason_ are to
intelligence what æsthetics and semeiotics are to ontology; that is:--
1. If, from a certain organic form, I infer a certain sentiment, that is
_Semeiotics_.
2. If, from a certain sentiment, I deduce a certain organic form, that
is _Æsthetics_.
3. If, after studying the arrangement of an organic form whose inherent
fitness I am supposed to know, I take possession of that arrangement
under the title of methods, invariably to reproduce that form by
substituting my individual will for its inherent cause, that is _Art_.
4. If I determine the initial phenomena under the impulsion of which the
inherent powers act upon the organism, that is _Ontology_.
5. If I tell how that organism behaves under the inherent action, that
is _Physiology_.
6. If I examine, one by one, the agents of that organism, it is
_Anatomy_.
7. If, amid these different studies, I seek by means of analogy and
generalization for light to guide my steps toward my advantage, that is
_System_.
8. If I make that light profitable to my material and spiritual
interests, that is _Reason_.
9. If I add to all this the loving contemplation of the Supreme Author
in His work, that is _Wisdom_.
Let us now leave the abstractions to which you have kindly lent your
attention. I cannot here avoid casting a rapid glance at those sources
of science and art, the sources whence I desire to draw applications
which I am assured will interest you as they interest me. May they
afford you the same delight!
By listening to me thus far you have passed through the proofs requisite
for your initiation into science as well as art; into science, whose
very definition is unknown to the learned bodies, since they have never
studied aught of it but its specialties; into art, whose very
fundamental basis is unsuspected by the School of Fine Arts, as I have
elsewhere demonstrated. Therefore, I now desire in the course of these
lectures to set aside the terms of a technology which I could not avoid
at the outset, and by the recital of my labors and my researches, my
disappointments and my discoveries, to show you the painful birth of a
science, whose possession entitles me to the honor of addressing you
to-day.
Definition of Form.
Form is the garb of substance. It is the expressive symbol of a
mysterious truth. It is the trademark of a hidden virtue. It is the
actuality of the being. In a word, form is the plastic art of the Ideal.
We have to consider three sorts of form: The form assumed by the being
at birth and which we will call _constitutional_ form. Under the sway of
custom forms undergo modifications: We will call these forms _habitual_
forms. Then there are the _fugitive_ forms, modifications of the
constitutional form, which are produced under the sway of passion. These
forms, which we will call _accidental, passional_ or _transitory_, are
fugitive as the things which give them birth.
On Distinction and Vulgarity of Motion.
Motion generally has its reäction; a projected body rebounds and it is
this rebound which we call the reäction of the motion.
Rebounding bodies are agreeable to the eye. Lack of elasticity in a body
is disagreeable from the fact that lacking suppleness, it seems as if it
must, in falling, be broken, flattened or injured; in a word, must lose
something of the integrality of its form. It is, therefore, the reäction
of a body which proves its elasticity, and which, by this very quality,
gives us a sort of pleasure in witnessing a fall, which apart from this
reäction could not be other than disagreeable. Therefore, elasticity of
dynamic motions is a prime necessity from the point of view of charm.
In the vulgar man there is no reäction. In the man of distinction, on
the contrary, motion is of slight extent and reäction is enormous.
Reäction is both slow and rapid.
Gesture.
The artist should have three objects: To _move_, to _interest_, to
_persuade_. He interests by _language_; he moves by _thought_; he moves,
interests and persuades by _gesture_.
Language is the weakest of the three agents. In a matter of the feelings
language proves nothing. It has no real value, save that which is given
to it by the preparation of gesture.
Gesture corresponds to the soul, to the heart; language to the life, to
the thought, to the mind. The life and the mind being subordinate to the
heart, to the soul, gesture is the chief organic agent. So it has its
appropriate character which is persuasion, and it borrows from the other
two agents interest and emotion. It prepares the way, in fact, for
language and thought; it goes before them and foretells their coming; it
accentuates them.
By its silent eloquence it predisposes, it guides the listener. It makes
him a witness to the secret labor performed by the immanences which are
about to burst forth. It flatters him by leading him to feel that he
partakes in this preparation by the initiation to which it admits him.
It condenses into a single word the powers of the three agents. It
represents virtue effective and operative. It assimilates the
auxiliaries which surround it, and reflects the immanence proper to its
nature, the contemplation of its subject deeply seen, deeply felt. It
possesses them synthetically, fully, absolutely.
Artistic gesture is the expression of the physiognomy; it is
transluminous action; it is the mirror of lasting things.
Lacordaire, that spoiled child of the intellect, spoke magnificently. He
interested, he aroused admiration, but he did not persuade. His organism
was rebellious to gesture. He was the artist of language. Ravignan,
inferior intellectually, prepared his audience by his attitude, touched
them by the general expression of his face, fascinated them by his gaze.
He was the artist of gesture.
Thus, if we sing, let us not forget that the prelude, the refrain, is
the spiritual expression of the song; that we must take advantage of
this exordium to guide ourselves, to predispose our hearers in our
favor; that we must point out to them, must make them foresee by the
expression of our face the thought and the words which are to follow;
that, in fact, the ravished spectator may be dazzled by a song which he
has not yet heard, but which he divines or thinks that he divines.
_Definition of Gesture._ (Compare Delaumosne, page 43.)
Gesture is the direct agent of the heart. It is the fit manifestation of
feeling. It is the revealer of thought and the commentator upon speech.
It is the elliptical expression of language; it is the justification of
the additional meanings of speech. In a word, it is the spirit of which
speech is merely the letter. Gesture is parallel to the impression
received; it is, therefore, always anterior to speech, which is but a
reflected and subordinate expression.
Gesture is founded on three bases which give rise to three orders of
studies; that is, to three sciences, namely: The _static_, the _dynamic_
and the _semeiotic_.
What are these three sciences, and, first of all, what are they in
relation to gesture? The semeiotic is its mind; the dynamic is its soul;
the static is founded on the mutual equilibrium or equipoise of the
agents.
The dynamic presents the multiple action of three agents; that is to
say, of the constituent forces of the soul.
The semeiotic presents to our scrutiny a triple object for study. It
sets forth the cause of the acts produced by the dynamic and the static
harmonies. Moreover, it reveals the meaning of the types which form the
object of the system. It offers us a knowledge of the formal or
constitutional types, of the fugitive or accidental types, and, finally,
of the habitual types.
The triple object of the dynamic are the _rhythmic, inflective_ and
_harmonic_ forms. Dynamic rhythm is founded upon the important law of
mobility, inversely proportionate to the masses moved. Dynamic
inflections are produced by three movements: Direct movements, rotary
movements and movements of flexion in the arc of a circle.
Dynamic harmony is founded on the concomitance of the relations existing
between all the agents of gesture. This harmony is regulated by three
states, namely: The tonic or eccentric state, the atonic or concentric
state, and the normal state. It, therefore, remains for us to fix the
three vital conditions of the static part of gesture. The vital
condition of the static is based upon the knowledge of the nine
stations. The spirit of the static entails the study of scenic planes
which embrace three conditions: The condition of the personage in
relation to the scenic centre or to the interlocutor whom he addresses;
in the second place, his situation; and, finally, the direction assumed
by his body in regard to the conditions already indicated.
The soul of the static is in the harmonic opposition of the surfaces
moved.
The most powerful of all gestures is that which affects the spectator
without his knowing it.
From this statement may be deduced the principle that: Outward gesture,
being only the echo of the inward gesture which gave birth to it and
rules it, should be inferior to it in development and should be in some
sort diaphanous.
Attitudes of the Head.
The head, considered in its three direct poses, presents three
conditions or states. When facing the object contemplated, it presents
the normal state; bent forward and in the direction of the object, it
presents the concentric state; raised and considering the object from
above, it presents the eccentric state. [Compare Delaumosne, page 65.]
If, now, we consider each of its attitudes in connection with a double
lateral inclination of which they are capable, we have the following
nine:
1. The first is normal. The head is neither high nor low, the glance
being direct.
2. The second is characteristic of tenderness. This attitude consists in
bending the head obliquely toward the interlocutor. The body, in this
attitude, should not face the object; thus the head, in bending toward
it, bends sidewise in relation to the body.
3. The third attitude is characteristic of sensuality. This attitude is
marked by an inclination quite the reverse of the second; that is to
say, away from the interlocutor. Naturally, in this attitude, as in the
preceding one, the glance is oblique; the head being bent forward and
backward, is here placed obliquely.
4. The fourth is characteristic of scrutiny, reflection. The head in
this attitude is bent forward as we said in concentration, and the eye,
from the effort to lower the head, is thrown up to inspect the object.
5. The fifth is characteristic of veneration. This attitude offers the
same inclination as the second; but here, as the head must be lowered,
the eye is directed both obliquely and upward.
6. The sixth is characteristic of suspicion. This attitude offers the
same inclination as the third, with the concentric modifications
indicated for the preceding one.
7. The seventh is characteristic of exaltation, passion. This attitude
is eccentric and direct, as we have already said.
8. The eighth attitude is characteristic of abandonment, extreme
confidence. This attitude presents the inclination of the second and the
fifth, with this difference, that here the head is thrown back and the
eye, instead of being bent directly upon the object as in the second and
upward as in the fifth, here gazes downward.
9. The ninth attitude is characteristic of pride. This last attitude
takes the inclination of the sixth and eighth attitudes, with the
differences in gaze indicated in the foregoing.
Thus, to sum up what we have already said, we see that the first, fourth
and seventh attitudes are directly toward the object; that the second,
fifth and eighth bend obliquely toward the object; and, finally, that
the third, sixth and ninth are the result of an oblique inclination away
from the object.
NOTE.--It is to be understood that the various attitudes of the head are
asserted only in regard to the direction taken by the eye. Thus it is
not absolutely true to say that the head is in the eccentric state
because it is raised; for it may be that, raised as it is, the direction
of the eye may be even higher than it, and, in that case, the head
might, although raised, present the aspect of the concentric state. Then
it would be true to say that the head presents the concentric state in a
high direction.
Attitudes of the Hands.
The hands, like the legs, have three kinds of attitudes. They open
without effort and present the normal state; they close and present the
concentric state; then they open forcibly and present the eccentric
state. These three kinds of attitudes produce nine forms.
1. The first is characteristic of acceptance. In this the hand is
presented open without effort, the fingers close together and the palm
up.
2. The second is characteristic of caressing. In this attitude the palm
of the hand faces the object considered and gently follows its forms.
3. The third is characteristic of negation. This attitude is executed in
the following fashion: The arm and hand are placed as in caressing; but,
instead of following the form of the object, the hand rids itself of it
by a rotary movement, thus placing the palm in a lateral direction.
4. This attitude is executed with the closed fist, the arm hanging
naturally, that is, without any action determined by the will.
5. The fifth is characteristic of will. This attitude consists in
carrying the fist forward, the back up.
6. The sixth attitude is characteristic of menace. This attitude is
effected by an outward rotary movement compressed in the fist, so that,
contrary to the will, the back of the hand is down.
7. The seventh is characteristic of desire. The hand, in this attitude,
moves forward as in the first, but with the difference that here the
fingers are spread apart, this spreading signifying "I do not possess,"
expresses desire. There is, by the fact of the advance of the hand,
aspiration and not possession.
8. The eighth is characteristic of imprecation. It consists in
stretching the palm of the hand toward the object as in a caress, but
with this difference, that the fingers are spread apart, thus offering a
repulsive aspect.
9. The ninth is characteristic of refusal, repulsion. It consists in
carrying the hand obliquely as in negation, observing the spreading of
the fingers which characterizes this species.
_Affirmation--The Hand._
To make the demonstration of the different affirmations of the hand more
clear, we employ the cube which, as is well known, has six faces, eight
angles, and twelve edges.
When the hand is placed upon a flat surface the affirmation is simple;
when the hand is placed upon an angle the affirmation is triple or
common to three faces or surfaces. There are three directions in the
cube: Horizontal, vertical and transverse. So, too, there are three
directions possible for the hand in relation to the body:
1. Abduction--which removes,
2. Adduction--which brings close, and
3. The normal direction.
There are three sorts of adduction, three sorts of abduction, and three
sorts of normal direction.
There are three horizontal, three vertical and three transverse
directions; hence nine terms applicable to the nine modes of presenting
the hand in connection with the cube, which are:
[Illustration:
+---------------------------------------------+
/| /|
/ | / |
/ | / |
/ | / |
/ | UPPER SURFACE. / |
/ | / |
/ | To hold. / |
/ | / |
+---------------------------------------------+ |
| | | O |
| I | | U |
| N | | T |
| W | | W |
| A | | A |
| R | FRONT SURFACE. | R |
| D T | | | D |
| o | To retain. | | T |
| L | | L o |
| A w | Limit. -- | A |
| T i | | T b |
| E t | Obtain. | | E e |
| R h | | | R l |
| A d | BACK SURFACE. | A o |
| L r | | | L n |
| a | | To maintain. | g |
| S w | | | | S . |
| U . | Contain. | | U |
| R | | | R |
| F | | F |
| A | | A |
| C | | C |
| E | | E |
| . | | . |
| +------------------------------------+--------+
| / | /
| / LOWER SURFACE. | /
| / | /
| / To sustain. | /
| / | /
| / | /
| / | /
|/ |/
+---------------------------------------------+
Table of the Normal Character of These Nine Attitudes.
/ 2. Concentric . . Conflict.
|
2. Concentro.< 3. Normal . . . . Power.
|
\ 1. Eccentric . . Convulsion.
/ 2. Concentric . . Prostration.
|
3. Normo. < 3. Normal . . . . Abandon.
|
\ 1. Eccentric . . Expansion.
/ 2. Concentric . . Execration.
|
1. Eccentro. < 3. Normal . . . . Exaltation.
|
\ 1. Eccentric . . Exasperation.
These nine physiognomies of the hand modify those of the face, often
supply their place and sometimes even contradict them. When they are
appropriate to the hand and face alike, there is homogeneity. The
expression of the hands results from the coöperation of three orders of
phenomena. The first order comprises the intrinsic physiognomies assumed
by the hand under the influence of the passions. The second order
comprises the attitudes assumed by the hand toward the object of the
passion. The third order comprises the evolutions impressed upon the
hand by the body, fore-arm and shoulder. These evolutions are so many
inflections.
We know the nine attitudes appropriate to the hand, and the nine
attitudes designated by the nine modes of presentation of the hand in
regard to the cubic surfaces. We must examine the nine inflections which
arise in the first instance from the three directions, antero-posterior,
vertical and transverse.
These inflections again include three movements of three kinds: Direct
movements, circular movements and oblique movements. These movements
are produced by three sorts of action: Sectional action, rotary action
and translative action.
To recapitulate: These physiognomies, attitudes and inflections form by
their combination the multifarious expressions of which the hand is
capable, as are all parts of the body.
Having spoken of the affirmations of the hand, we must speak of its
degree of certainty of which the arm is the thermometer. This
affirmation varies with the angle formed by the fore-arm with the arm.
All these modes of affirmation may be applied to negation.
Attitudes of the Legs.
1. The first attitude is normal; it consists of an equal balance of the
weight of the body on the two legs. This attitude is that of the soldier
carrying arms, without the stiffness assumed by the wilful regularity of
rigid discipline. It is also that attitude taken by a man in the act of
salutation; it is also characteristic of the weakness of a child or of
old age; it is the sign of respect. [Compare Delaumosne, p. 100.]
2. The second attitude is characteristic of repose in strength. The
weight of the body is thrown upon one hip, the free leg being carried
forward. This change should be effected without tension or stiffness.
This attitude is also characteristic of certain concentric passions
hidden under seeming calm.
3. This attitude is characteristic of vehemence, of which it is the
type. It is preëminently the eccentric attitude. It consists in carrying
the whole weight of the body forward, the backward leg extended in equal
proportion to the forward poise of the torso.
4. This attitude is characteristic of the weakness which follows
vehemence. It is the type of concentration; it is also in character as
in species the antipodes of the third attitude, since it is its resolute
expression. This attitude consists in throwing the whole weight of the
body backward, contrary to the preceding attitude where the body was
brought forward, and in bending the leg which bears the weight of the
body, which is also the reverse of the preceding attitude, where the leg
is extended. This attitude is nearly that of the fencing-master; it
differs, however, in the position of the backward foot, which, in
fencing, is turned outward. The regularity of this attitude may be
verified by kneeling, which is its paroxysm. If the attitude is well
done it leads to it naturally.
5. The fifth attitude serves as a preparation for oblique steps; it is
also colorless, transitive, suspensive. It ends all the angles formed by
walking. We may define this attitude as a third transversal; that is to
say, the free leg, instead of being behind as in the third, is
impassive, so that the body, instead of being advanced, should be
slightly inclined to one side.
6. The sixth attitude is an attitude of pomp and ceremony. It is only
assumed in the presence of kings, princes, or persons for whom we have
great respect. We will define this attitude as a third crossed
proceeding from the fifth; that is to say, the free leg of the fifth
becomes the strong leg moving sidewise and slightly forward, thus
crossing the back leg.
7. The seventh attitude is an attitude characteristic of absolute
repose. It is the strongest attitude, and, consequently, that assumed by
intoxication to resist a lack of equilibrium. It is the attitude of
vertigo, or of extreme trust.
Do not be surprised by the bringing together of these very different and
opposite terms in one and the same attitude. It is a sufficient
explanation to say that the strong attitude is sought out by weakness as
a weak attitude is sought by strength. This attitude consists in the
division of the weight of the body between both legs, which are spread
wide apart in parallel directions. This attitude would be improper in a
parlor.
8. The eighth attitude is an attitude characteristic of the alternation
between the offender and defender. It is the exact medium between the
third and fourth; it, therefore, expresses moral as well as physical
alternation. A man placed between the offensive and the defensive always
assumes this attitude as if to sound the resources of his courage in
face of an enemy stronger than himself; in this attitude he may advance
or recede. This attitude is a seventh, whose direction, instead of being
lateral, is parallel to the body and antero-posterior. In this position
the body faces the forward leg, both legs being spread wide apart, as in
the seventh, both receive an equal portion of the weight of the body.
9. The ninth attitude is characteristic of defiance. This attitude is a
stiff second. It differs only in that the free leg is rigid instead of
being bent as in the second. To execute this attitude thoroughly well
the free leg must be stretched to the very utmost, without allowing the
strong leg to bend as in the fourth, which is the only attitude where
the strong leg should be bent. To prevent this flexion, the body must be
carried well over on the hip of the strong leg, so that the side of the
free leg may be elongated.
_Chart Considered from the Organic Point of View._
[Illustration]
2. The Son,
3. The Holy Ghost,
1. The Father.
Having examined the table organically, we will study it essentially.
Example.
What we have called eccentric, concentric and normal, we will call
vitality, intellectuality and spirituality; lastly, having established
this table from the organic and the essential point of view, it remains
for us to examine it æsthetically and from a practical point of view.
Let us first examine a few gestures, for instance:
_Of the Hand._
3 colorless state abandonment
/\
/ \
/ \
/ 3 \
expansion 1 /________\ 2 prostration
3 exaltation 3 power
/\ /\
/ \ / \
/ \ / \
/ 1 \ / 2 \
1 /________\ 2 1 /________\ 2
exasperation execration convulsive state struggle
_Of the Eye._
abandonment
/\
/ \
/ \
/ 3 \
indifference /________\ moroseness
stupor depression or somnolence
/\ /\
/ \ / \
/ \ / \
/ 1 \ / 2 \
1 /________\ 2 1 /________\ 2
surprise firmness contempt contention of mind
_Of the Torso._
dynamic apparatus
/\
/ \
/ \
/ 3 \
limbs /________\ head
larynx veil of the palate
/\ /\
/ \ / \
/ \ / \
/ 1 \ / 2 \
1 /________\ 2 1 /________\ 2
lungs mouth lips tongue
_Æsthetic Division._
3 pure spirituality
/\
/ \
/ \
/ 3 \
vital soul 1 /________\ 2 intellectual soul
3 spiritual life 3 spiritual intellect
/\ /\
/ \ / \
/ \ / \
/ 1 \ / 2 \
1 /________\ 2 1 /________\ 2
animal life intellectual life animal intellect mental intellece
/ Mind / Science
Human Hypostases < Soul Worlds < Grace
\ Life \ Nature
/ Light / The mind / distinguishes
Divine Attributes < Love Functions < The soul < reunites
\ Power \ The life \ asserts
/ Understanding / Speculative
Faculties < Will Reasons < Final
\ Memory \ Seminal
/ Trial generates faith
Theological Virtues< Tribulation generates experience
\ Fulfilment generates charity
The Holy Trinity Recovered in Sound.
Sound is the reflection of the Divine image. In sound there are three
reflex images: The reflex of life; of the intellect; and of love. They
result from the parallel and simultaneous action of three agents: The
projective (life), reflective (intellect), and vibrative (love).
Sound contains three sounds: That of the _tonic_, the _dominant_, and
the _mediant_. The tonic (Father) necessarily generates the dominant
(Son), and the mediant (Holy Ghost) proceeds necessarily from the first
two.
Pythagoras discovered this law. Passing before a blacksmith's shop, he
heard the sound of heavy hammer strokes upon a forge. He recognized
perfectly that each blow gave out beside the principal tone (tonic) two
other tones, which corresponded to the twelfth and seventeenth of the
tonic. Now, the twelfth reversed is nothing but the fifth or dominant,
and the seventeenth becomes, by a double reversion, the third or mediant
of the tonic.
Let us say, then, that every tone necessarily contains the tonic its
generator, the dominant its engendered, and the mediant which proceeds
from the other two. The reünion of these three tones which makes them
into one, forms the perfect chord. Full and absolute consonance is the
expression of union, of love, of order, of harmony, of peace; it is the
return to the source of goodness, to God.
If a fourth form should be added to the perfect chord, to consonance,
there would necessarily be a dissonance. This fourth can only enter by
an effort, almost by violence. It is outside of plenitude, of the calm
established by the Divine law; it produces a painful sensation, a
dissonance. As soon as there is a discord, a dissonance, the animal
cries out, the dog howls, inert bodies suffer and vibrate; but all is
order and calm again when consonance returns.
Speech.
Speech is an act posterior to will, itself posterior to love; this again
posterior to judgment, posterior in its turn to memory, which, finally,
is posterior to the impression.
Every impression, to become a sensation, must first be perceived by the
intelligence, and thus we may say of the sensation that it is a definite
impression. But, to be definite, it must pass into the domain of memory
and there solicit the reappearance of its congeners with which it may
identify itself. It is in this apparatus and surrounded by this throng
of homogeneous impressions which gather round it, as if by magic, or
rather which it draws about it as the magnet draws the iron, it is, I
say, in this complex state that it appears before the intelligence to
receive from the latter a fitting name. For the intelligence could not
give it a name if the homogeneous impressions in which it has, so to
speak, arrayed itself, did not serve to point it out.
Now, by this distinction, established by the double operation of the
memory and the intelligence, a movement takes place in the soul, of
attraction, if the intelligence approve; or of repulsion, if it
disapprove. This movement is called the will. The will, therefore,
becomes the active principle in virtue of which speech is expressed;
thus speech is the express agent of the will. It is speech, in fact,
which, under the incubation of this mysterious power, rules, groups and
moves bodies with the aid of memory.
Inflection is the life of speech; the mind lies in the articulative
values, in the distribution of these articulations and their
progressions. The soul of speech is in gesture.
Breathing.
Breathing, according to its form of production, is: (1) Costal or
combined; (2) diaphragmatic; (3) costo-diaphragmatic.
Breathing is a triple act based upon three phenomena: Inspiration,
suspension, expiration. From the successive predominance of each of
these three phenomena, or from their equal balance, result eighty-one
respiratory acts, which may be reduced to three terms: The breathing is
_normal, spasmodic_, or _sibilant_.
There are three questions to be considered in regard to breathing:
1. How should it, the breath, be produced to gain the greatest
development for the voice?
2. What place should it occupy in speech?
3. What aspect does it assume under the influence of the passions?
In other words, three characters may be attributed to respiration:
Vocal, logical, pathetic or passional.
_Vocal Respiration._
The lungs constantly contain a quantity of air, which is the source of
life and with which we cannot dispense without inconvenience to health
and to the voice. The quantity of air requisite for the renewing of the
blood, and which is called the breath of life, amounts to a third of
what the lungs are capable of receiving. In order to sing, therefore,
it must be increased by two-thirds, and it is this borrowed breath only
which should be given out in singing. When the lungs are thus filled
with air, the sound is produced by escapement. From this it receives
greater force, and its production, far from being a fatigue, becomes a
relief.
Inspiration should always be followed by a suspensive silence; otherwise
the lungs, agitated by the act of inspiration, perform the expiration
badly.
_Logical Respiration._
Logical respiration constitutes the respiration itself. Suspension
expresses reticence, disquietude. Inspiration is an element of
dissimulation, concentration, pain. Hence, we have normal, oppressive,
spasmodic, superior, sibilant, rattling, intermittent, crackling, and
hiccoughing respiration.
Expiration is an element of trust, expansion, confidence and tenderness.
If the expression contains both pain and love, the inspiration and
expiration will both be noisy; but the one or the other will predominate
according as pain predominates over love, or _vice versa._
_Passional Respiration._
The source of passional respiration lies in the agitation of the heart.
The effect of respiration is most powerful, for the slighter and more
imperceptible the phenomena are, the more effect they have upon the
auditors.
Vocal Organ.
The organ assumes at birth a form; this form is called the timbre or
tone, This tone corresponds to the constitutional form. Under the sway
of habit, the form assumes an acquired tone which is called emission.
The emissive form corresponds to the habitual tone. Under the sway of
emotion the voice is modulated and assumes forms which we will call
passional or transitory.
The mouth is normal, concentric and eccentric. [See chart in Delaumosne,
page 81.]
From these three types we have succeeded in fixing and classifying
forty-eight million phenomena.
Definition of the Voice.
The voice is the essential element in singing. It is based upon sound.
This is based upon three agents:
The _projective_ agent, or the _lungs_.
The _vibrative_ agent, or the _larnyx_.
The _reverberative_ agent, or the _mouth_.
Each of these agents acts in different ways, nine acts resulting
therefrom, which we will call products of phonetic acts.
The projective agent in its special activities engenders
Intensities,
Shades,
Respirations.
The vibrative agent in its special activities engenders
Prolations,
Pathetic effects,
Registers.
The reverberative agent in its special activities engenders
Emissions,
Articulations,
Vowels.
To recapitulate, the phonetic agents give us nine products; but, when
studied from the vocal point of view, these products become as many
elements and must be examined from the triple point of view of
preparatory, practical and transcendant studies. We must, therefore,
know first the general definition of these elements, their cause and
their theoretical history, which constitutes phonology or the
preparatory study of the voice.
Secondly, we must know the physical order in virtue of which these
phenomena may be acquired or developed. The various special exercises
and the vices to be avoided constitute phonation or the practical study
of the voice.
Thirdly, we must know and appreciate the physiological, intellectual and
moral meaning of these elements, the different relations of resemblance,
of opposition and of identity which exist between these different
phenomena.
The modes of application or principles of style form the transcendent
study or æsthesiophony, that is, the voice applied to feeling, etc.
_What the Register is._
The register is an intrinsic modification of the sound; a modification
which is produced in the larynx itself and which does not belong to the
mouth. Now, we may say of registers that they are to the larnyx what
emissions are to the mouth. Thus registers form a physiognomy which the
sound assumes in the larynx, and emissions form the physiognomy which
that same sound takes on in the mouth.
_On Shading._
Light and shade are not, as has been asserted, subject to the
arbitration or inspiration of the moment. They are ruled by laws; for in
art there is not a single phenomenon which is not subject to absolute
mathematical laws. A knowledge of these laws is important, the art of
shading forming the basis of style.
The opinion which makes the ascending phrase progressive is false six
times out of seven. It is only correct in the following cases:
1. If an ascending phrase encounters no repeated and no dissonant note
it is progressive, and the culminating note is the most intense. It has
one degree of intensity.
2. If we find a note repeated in the ascending phrase, that note, even
if it be the lowest of all, must be made more important than the highest
note and will have two degrees of intensity. In this case, the higher
the voice rises the softer it must become; for there cannot be more than
one culminating point in a musical phrase any more than in a logical or
mimetic phrase. All sounds must, therefore, diminish in proportion to
their distance from this centre of expression, from this repeated note.
The reason of the intensity of a repeated note lies in the fact that we
repeat only that thing which we desire, and this intensity gives it a
greater value.
3. If the repeated note be at the same time the culminating note, it
will require a new degree of intensity. It will have three degrees of
intensity.
4. We may possibly find a dissonant note in the ascending phrase, with a
repeated culminating note. (This note would, then, be more than an
indication; it would receive an adjective form from the accident,
assuming in the musical phrase the value that an adjective would have in
a logical phrase.) Its intensity, therefore, would be greater than that
of the highest repeated note, and it would have four degrees of
intensity.
5. If the dissonant note is also the highest note, it acquires from that
position a fifth degree of intensity.
6. It may happen that the dissonant note appearing in a rising phrase is
repeated; by reason of this repetition it would receive a sixth degree
of intensity.
7. Finally, if the dissonant note is at the same time culminating and
repeated, it has seven degrees of intensity.
_Pathetic Effects._
Pathetic effects are nine in number, the principal of which are as
follows: The veiled tone; the flat or compressed tone; the smothered
tone; the ragged tone; the vibrant tone. The last is the most powerful.
Vibration or tremolo, bad when produced involuntarily by the singer,
becomes a brilliant quality when it is voluntary and used at an
opportune time. Every break must be preceded by a vibration, which
prepares the way for it.
Prolations are laryngeal articulations. Great care must be taken not to
substitute pectoral articulations for them.
The chest is a passive agent; it should furnish nothing but the breath.
The mouth and the larynx alone are entitled to act.
_On the Tearing of the Voice._
Exuberance of the contained brings on destruction of that which contains
it. Tearing of the voice, therefore, should only be associated with an
excessive extension of the sound whose intensity, as we have
demonstrated, is in inverse ratio to the dramatic proportion.
Number.
The figure 1 is characteristic of unity and measure. The figure 2, which
is the measure in the 1, should become subordinate in its greatness and
be equal with it. It is another one which gives birth to the idea of
number.
The idea of number can only arise from the presence of terms of the same
nature. Thus the idea of number cannot arise from the presence of a cart
and a toad. We shall thus have two very distinct unities, having no kind
of relation to each other. There must, therefore, be equality before
there can be number. This is so true that we cannot say of a man and a
child that they are two men or two children, because the one is not
equal to the other. It is, therefore, from the point of an attributive
equality that we are enabled to say: They are two. But we can say: There
are two beings, because in regard to being they are equal one to the
other. We now understand how two equals one, that the two figures have
an equal importance, and that the figure 1 contains exclusively the idea
of measure; the figure 2 contains the idea of number, which is not in
the 1, this being the characteristic feature by which the two terms
differ.
Now, how are we to form a perfect unity between these two equal but
distinct terms?
A single operation will suffice to give us the idea we wish, and this
operation is revealed to us entire in the word _weight_. In fact, the
two terms can only be united by this word. We feel that 1 and 2 give us
a common weight, the sum of which is represented by the figure 3. The
figure 3 is, therefore, equal in importance to 1 and to 2; it maintains
equality in the terms of which it is the representative, and its
characteristic feature is equally important with those already
described.
Thus to the figure 1 belongs the idea of _measure_; to the figure 2
belongs the idea of _number_; to the figure 3 belongs exclusively the
idea of reünion, of community, of unity in fine, which no other figure
can reveal to us. We may say: 1 and 1 are equal among themselves, in the
unity of the figure 3; or, in other words: Measure and number find their
unity in weight.
Medallion of Inflection (Compare Delaumosne, page 119.)
[Illustration]
Explanation.--The vertical line 1 (from top to bottom) expresses
affirmation, confirmation; 2, the horizontal line, expresses negation.
The oblique lines, 3 and 4, from within outward and from without inward,
express rejection. 4, an oblique line from within outward rejects things
which we despise. 3, a line from within outward, rejects things which
oppress us and of which we wish to get rid. 5, the quadrant of a circle,
whose form recalls that of a hammock, expresses well-being, contentment,
confidence and happiness. 6, a similar quadrant of a circle, an
eccentric curvilinear, expresses secrecy, silence, domination,
persuasion, stability, imposition, inclosure. The reëntering external
curvilinear quadrant of a circle, 7, expresses graceful, delicate
things. Produced in two ways, from above downward, it expresses physical
delicacy; from below upward, moral and intellectual delicacy. The
external quadrant of a circle, 8, expresses exuberance and plenitude,
amplitude and generosity. The circular line surrounding and embracing is
characteristic of glorification and exaltation.
Examples.
[Illustration]
1. You may believe
2. That none, oh Lord
3. Had such glory
4. Or such happiness.
[Illustration]
Thy voice, brother,
cannot be heard.
[Illustration]
After such a marvel
one might believe a thousand
others
without raising his eyebrows.
[Illustration] The other was a perfect
master of the art of cheating.
Remark.--These inflections being produced, it is essential to know the
centre from which they emanate. The amplitude of the circle described
must be in harmony with the object in question. Thus a circle may be
produced with the entire arm, and glorification is the thing in
question.
[Illustration] grace, elegance
[Illustration] charm, elevation
[Illustration] Light and amiable.
[Illustration] Light and spiritual.
The half quarter of a circle characteristic of exuberance combined with
the half quarter circle characteristic of delicacy, expreses grace. It
is delicacy mixed with abundance; tenuity supported by generosity.
[Illustration] The rejection of a
contemptible thing (4)
concluded by happiness,
well-being (5) signifies
that repose will not be purchased
at the cost of a contemptible
thing.
[Illustration] The possession of
happiness.
[Illustration] The 3 combined
with the 5 rejection
of an illusory happiness.
Note.--The figures 3, 4, 5, 6, refer to the corresponding figures in the
Medallion of Inflection.
The hand placed horizontally, the back uppermost pirouetting on the
wrist alternately in pronation and supination, thus passing from force
to feebleness and from feebleness to force, characterizes irritability.
[Compare Delaumosne, pages 114-118.]
[Illustration: Chart of Man. Human Nature.]
[Illustration: Chart of the Angels. Angelic Nature.]
The Nature of the Colors of Each Circle in the Color Charts.
_Red, Blue and Yellow._
Red is the color of life. Indeed, this is asserted by fire, by the heat
of the blood.
Blue is the color of the mind. Is not blue the color of the sky, the
home of pure intellects, set free from the body, who see and know all
things? To them everything is in the light.
Yellow is the color of the soul. Yellow is the color of flame.
Flame contains the warmth of life and the light of the mind. As the soul
contains and unites the life and the mind, so the flame warms and
shines. [Compare Delaumosne, page 157.]
The Attributes of Reason.
The human reason, that haughty faculty, deified in our age by a myriad
of perverse and commonplace minds known under the derisive and doubly
vain title of freethinkers, is but blind, despite its high opinion of
its own insight. Yes, and we affirm by certain intuition that man's
reason is not and cannot be otherwise than blind, aside from the
revealing principle which only enlightens it in proportion to its
subordination; for, abandoned to itself, reason can only err and must
fatally fall into an abyss of illusions.
The melancholy age in which we live but too often offers us an example
of the lamentable mistakes into which we are hurried by misguided
reason, which, yielding to a criminal presumption, deserts without
remorse the principle super-abounding in _life, light_ and _glory_.
To understand such an anomaly, to explain how reason, which constitutes
one of the highest attributes of man, is so far subject to error, it is
essential to have a thorough apprehension of the complexity of its
nature. What, then, is the real nature of the reason so little studied
and so illy known by those very men who raise altars in its honor? Let
us try to produce a clear demonstration. And let us first say that
reason does not constitute a primary principle in man; for a primary
_principle_ could never mistake its object. Neither is it a primary
_faculty_; it is only the form or the manner of being of such a faculty,
and thus cannot be a light in itself. The rays by which it shines are
external to it in the sense that it receives them from the principle
which governs and fertilizes it. Still, let us say that, although
neither a principle nor a faculty, reason is none the less, with
conscience, of which it forms the base, the noblest power of man; for
this power God created free; free from subjection to the principle that
enlightens it; free, too, to escape from it. Yet every power necessarily
recognizes a guiding principle to whose service it needs must bow; but
to reason alone it is granted to avoid the law which imperiously rules
the relations of the harmonious subordination of principiant faculties
to their principles. Hence the error or possible blindness of reason;
hence also its incomparable grandeur, which lies solely in its free and
spontaneous subordination. These principles established, let us go still
farther, and penetrate deeper into the mysterious genius of reason.
authorized to define reason. He did it in terms at once so simple, so
precise, and of such exquisite clarity, that we may venture to think
that reason itself could not have better rendered the terms of its own
entity.
This definition, let no one fail to see, contains in its extreme brevity
more substance than would fill a voluminous treatise. This, then, is his
definition:
_Reason is the discursive form of the intellect._
Now by this St. Thomas plainly establishes that reason, distinct from
the intellect, with which we must beware of confounding it, proceeds
from it as effect proceeds from cause. Therefore, intellect surpasses
reason as its principiant and guiding faculty; and reason only figures
in the intelligential sphere, despite the important part it plays in
virtue of its adjunctive or supplementing power.
But what is the purpose of this adjunction? Here, in reply to this grave
and important question, let us refer to what the same scholar says
elsewhere. "Reason arises," he says, "from the failure of intellect."
Certainly this is a luminous, and doubtless a very unexpected
proposition. From it we learn, on the one hand, that the intellect is
liable to defects and consequently to weaknesses; on the other hand, it
seems established that the adjunctive power comes to aid the faculty
which governs it, since here the subjected is born of the failure of
the subjector.
Let us explain this fresh anomaly. We have in the first place declared
the preceding proposition luminous in spite of the obscurity into which
we are plunged by the consequences which we have derived from it; but,
patience! We are already aware that it is from the very obscurity of
things that the brightest light sometimes bursts upon contemplative
eyes; and since faith is the next principle to knowledge, let us have
faith at least in the trustworthiness of him who addresses us,
especially as he has given us repeated, unequivocal tokens of sound and
upright reason. Let us, then, have no doubt that the preceding
proposition contains a precious precept; and very certainly light will
soon dawn on our mind.
This settled, and for the better understanding of the meaning attached
to this proposition, let us call to our aid the powers of analogy.
If reason arises from the failure of intellect it is doubtless to
rectify the valuations of the ego. Now the _compass_, which is in itself
very inferior to the hand which fashions it and appropriates it to its
own use, nevertheless implies a defect in that hand which directs it. So
there is between the eye and the telescope, which comes to its aid, all
the distance that divides the faculty from the instrument which it
governs. Still the telescope joined to the eye communicates to it a
great power of vision; but the instrument arises from the failure of
the eye, which is nevertheless infinitely superior to it; for it is the
eye which sees, and not the telescope.
It is thus that we must understand the relations of reason and
intellect. Let us say, then, that the reason is to the intellect exactly
what the telescope is to the eye. This established, we can formulate the
following definition as well founded.
The intellect is the spiritual eye whose mysterious telescope reason
forms, or: reason is a necessary appendage of mental optics, or again:
reason is the glass used by the eye of a defective intellect.
But this is not all. St. Thomas provides us still elsewhere with the
means of making our analogy more striking. He says, indeed: reason is
given us to make clear that which is not evident. Is not this, as it
were, the seal of truth applied to our demonstration? Thus the eye uses
the telescope absolutely as the intellect employs the reason, to make
clear that which is not evident.
Of course it is plain that if the sight and the intellect answered
perfectly to their object, they could do without this adjunct which
betrays their imperfection. The intellect would thenceforth have no more
need of reason than the eye of glasses.
This explains the fact, so important to consider, that the clearer the
mental vision is the less one reasons. The angels do not reason; they
see clearly what is troubled and confused by our mind. No one reasons in
heaven, there is no logician there, no--Intelligence is immortal, but
reason, which serves it here below, will fade away in eternity with the
senses which like it do but form the conditions of time.
Divine reason alone will endure because it has nothing accidental, and
it is substantially united to the eternal word. It is that reason toward
which all blest intelligences will finally gravitate. Hence, we see that
what already partakes of the celestial life repels reasoning as a cause
of imperfection or infirmity. It is thus, by its exclusion of reasons,
that the Gospel supremely proves its celestial origin. It is, indeed, a
thing well worth remark, especially worthy of our admiration, that there
is not to be found, in the four Gospels, a single piece of reasoning,
any more than there is an interjection to be found.
Let us add that faith does not reason: which does not mean, as so many
misbelievers feign, that faith is fulfilled by blindness or ignorance of
the objects of its veneration. Quite the contrary. Faith dispenses with
reason because of the perfection of its sight. It is, finally, because
it is superior to reason and sees things from a higher plane. This is
what so many short-sighted people cannot see; and, to return to our
analogy, it seems to them able to see nothing save through the glasses
of reason. It seems to them, I say, that any man who does not wear
glasses must see crooked. Keep your glasses, my good souls! They suit
short limits of sight. But we, who, thank God, have sound sight, are
only troubled and clouded by them.
It is thus that reason, which is given us to make clear what is not
evident, frequently obscures even the very evidence itself. We might
confirm this declaration by a thousand examples. To cite but one, let us
point out how plainly the spectacle of the universe of thought and the
idea of a Divine Creator prove that no glasses are required to
contemplate God in His works. Well! scientists have felt obliged to
direct theirs upon these simple notions, and have thus, _i.e._, by force
of reasoning, succeeded in confusing out of all recognition a question
sparkling with evidence, so much so that they will fall into such a
state of blindness that they can no longer see in this world any trace
of the Supreme Intelligence which is yet manifested with glory in the
least of His creatures. Consequently, they will bluntly deny the
existence of God; but as they still must needs admit a creative cause,
they have to that end invented _moving atoms_ and have made from these
strange corpuscles something so perfectly invisible that they can spare
themselves the trouble of providing public curiosity with a living proof
of their theory.
The scientist is born perverted, as was said of the Frenchman who
created the vaudeville; and men, too strong-minded and above all too
full of reason to give any credence to the mysteries taught by the
church, have displayed a blind faith in respect to _moving atoms_. They
think thus to set themselves free from what they call the prejudices of
their fathers. They find no difficulty in attributing to invisible
corpuscles both the plan and the execution of the beings who people the
universe.
This is the fine conception attributed to what is called a higher
reason--a conception before which bow legions of strong minds. To such a
degree of degradation can reason drag man down.
It is, therefore, dangerous to consult the reason in any case where
evidence is likely to be called into play. But, before proceeding
farther in the course of our demonstrations, a question presents itself.
It may be asked what we think of another kind of reason--_pure reason_;
for it appears that in the opinion of certain philosophers pure reason
does exist. I do not know where they authenticated and studied this
species of reason. For myself I confess in all humility that not only
have I never seen a pure reason, but it has never even been possible for
me to raise my mind to the point of comprehending the signification of
pure reason. I greatly fear that some nonsense lurks within the phrase,
such transcendental nonsense as belongs to ideological philosophers
alone. I know not why, but these gentlemen's pure reason always gives me
the sensation of a strong blast of _moving atoms_. In fact, it is not
clear; but why require clarity of philosophers and ideologists?
But let us leave these senseless words and pursue the course of our
demonstrations.
What we have said of reason is quite sufficient to prevent its
confusion with the faculty whose discursive form it is. But this is not
enough. We must, by still more delicate distinctions, make any confusion
between these two terms impossible.
Reason, although essentially allied to intelligence, is not, like it,
primordial in man. Thus God created man intelligent, and consequently
susceptible of reason; but we do not see the word reason brought into
play in Genesis, because it merely expresses a derivation from the mind
or intellect. Reason, therefore, is secondary and posterior in the
genetic order. But here to the support of this assertion we have a
striking and undeniable proof; namely, that the infant is born
intelligent but not reasonable. Intellect proceeds directly from _that
true light which shines in every man on his entrance into the world_,
while reason is merely the fruit of experience. A proof of the
superiority of intelligence to reason is seen in the fact that it
partakes of the immutable, and is not like the latter, liable to
progress.
Thus the child is seen to be as intelligent as an adult man can be. Let
us rather say that it is in the child especially that intelligence
displays its brightest rays. Yet he is not furnished with reason. And
why not? Because he has no experience. Reason, therefore, is an acquired
power, whose light is borrowed from experience or tradition.
Reason is proportional to the experience acquired. Practical reason or
rationality is the ration or portion of experience allotted to each
person.
Reason is to the mental vision exactly what the eye is to optical
vision, and just as the eye borrows its visual action from external
light, so reason borrows its power of clear and correct vision from
traditional experience. The similarity is absolute.
Suppress light, and vision ceases to be possible. Suppress revelation
from intellectual objects, and reason is thenceforth blind.
Between reason and intelligence, although there be inclusion and
co-essentiality in these terms, there is a great difference in the mode
of cognizance; for, as St. Augustine says, intelligence is shown by
simple perception, and reason by the discursive process. Thus, while
intelligence acts simply, as in knowing an intelligible truth by the
light of its own intuition, reason goes toward its end progressively,
from one thing known to another not yet known.
The latter, as St. Thomas says, implies an imperfection. The former, on
the contrary, beseems a perfect being. It is, therefore, evident, adds
the same profound thinker, that reasoning bears the same relation to
knowledge that motion does to repose, or as acquisition to possession.
The one is of an imperfect nature, and the other of a perfect nature.
Boëthius compares the intellect to eternity; reason, to time.
Yet human reason, according to the principle which illuminates it,
offers three degrees of elevation which we will distinguish, for
readier comprehension, by three special terms, namely: first, tradition
or the experience of another; second, personal experience; third, the
reason of things.
Trained by tradition, reason is called _common sense_. Trained by
personal experience to the knowledge of principles, reason is called
_science_. Trained by the contemplation of principles to the perfection
of the intellect, reason is called _wisdom_.
What we call practical reason is based upon the authority of tradition
and the lessons of other people's experience in regard to the customary
and moral matters of life.
Speculative or discursive reason judges by the criterion of its own
experience; thereby inferring consequences more or less in conformity
with traditional teachings, and arriving by the logical order of its
deductions and in virtue of the principles which it accepts and which it
applies to its discoveries, at what we call science.
Transcendental reason pursues, in the effects which it examines, the
investigation of their cause, and rises thence to the very reason of
things. Wherefore it silences reasoning, enters into a silent and
persistent course of observation, consults the facts, examines, studies
and questions the principles whence it sees them to be deduced; and,
without yielding to the obscurity in which these principles are
enveloped, pierces that obscurity by the penetrative force of
unremitting attention. Inspired by the standard of faith, it knows that
the spirit of God exists at the root of these mysteries. It clings
thereto, unites itself thereto by contemplation, and finally draws from
this union its _strength_, its _light_ and its _joy_.
Such is the course of wisdom, and such are the inestimable advantages of
faith to reason. It is in fact by faith that reason is aggrandized and
elevated to the height of the intellect whence it draws its certitude.
Reason believes because it desires to understand, and because it knows
that faith is the next principle to knowledge.
Thus the grandeur of reason is proportioned to its humility;
proportioned, I would say, to the efforts which it multiplies to forget
itself when the truth addresses it. But such is not the method of
procedure of "strong minds." They have a horror of the mysteries toward
which they are still urged by correct instincts. The fact is, let us say
it boldly, they fear lest they find God there.
In these misguided spirits there is so much presumption, self-conceit,
self-love, that they are, in the nullity of their lofty pride, a worship
unto themselves, an idolatry of their own reason. They have deified
it,--that poor, frail reason; and this, while mutilating it, while
proclaiming it independent and free from all law, from all principle,
from everything definite.
To what excess of imbecility, then, have we not seen these freethinkers
fall, these apostles of independent reason, who on principle boast that
they have no faith and no law! Thence comes the scorn which afflicts
these unbelievers for all who believe and hope here below; thence, their
systematic ignorance of fundamental questions; thence, the incurable
blindness in which they bask; thence, finally, the inconsistencies and
contradictions which make them a spectacle humiliating to the human
mind.
But agnostic man labors in vain. He cannot escape the mysteries which
surround him on every hand, like a gulf in which reason is inevitably
lost so soon as it ceases to seek the light.
Man stumbles at every turn against the efforts of a stronger reason than
his own,--the Supreme Reason before which, nilly nilly, his must bow and
confess the insanity of its judgments.
Logic is not, to reason, a sure guide; and even where it feels its
foothold most strong, it sometimes trips, to the disgrace of the good
opinion it had of its own infallibility.
Let us show by a simple example to what rebuffs our reason is exposed
when counting on the support of its logic, face to face with the reason
of facts.
Undoubtedly it is logical and perfectly in conformity with reason, to
say that _one_ and _one_ make _two_. No doubt seems possible on that
point. Well, this elementary truth, the most undeniable in the eyes of
all men which can be produced, does not, despite the assurances which
seem to uphold it, constitute an impregnable axiom; for there are cases
when _one_ and _one_ do not make _two_! Certainly such a proposition
seems scarcely reasonable, for its admission would entail the reversal
of what are called the sound notions of logic! But what will the
logician say if I affirm that in a certain case, _one_ and _one_ make
but _one-half_? Would he even take the trouble to refute me? No, he
would laugh in my face; he would not listen to me; he would tax me with
absurdity and insanity, preferring thus to lose a chance of instruction
rather than confess the impotence of his logic.
There is the evil, and it is generally in this way that ignorance is
perpetuated. But let us return to the fact which we desire to prove,
contrary to logic and the pretensions of ordinary reason.
Now, it is logical and perfectly in conformity with reason to say that
two musical instruments make more noise than one; and that thus two
double basses, for example, tuned in unison and placed side by side,
produce one sound of a double intensity. This seems an elementary
matter. It is as clear, you say, as that one and one make two. Well, no,
it is not so clear as you suppose. It is, on the contrary, a mistake;
for attentive experiment proves that the result is diametrically
opposite to the logical conclusion.
This is a fact which no argument can destroy. Two double basses, placed
in the above-named conditions--conditions of vicinity and tonal
identity--far from adding up their individual result, are thus reduced
each to a quarter of its own sonority, which in the sum total, instead
of producing a double sound, produces a sound reduced to half of that
given individually by each instrument taken alone. This is how a power
plus an analogous power equals together with it but half a power; and
thus we are forced to admit that one and one do not necessarily make
two.
I have carried the experiment still farther; in the instrument which
gained me a first-class medal at the exhibition of 1854, I was enabled
to put thirty-six strings of the same piano into unison at once. Well!
All these strings, struck simultaneously, did not attain to the
intensity of sound produced by one of them struck singly. All these
sounds, far from gaining strength by union, reciprocally neutralized one
another. This is not logical, I admit; but we must submit to it.
Logic must be silent and reason bow before the brutal force of a fact to
which there is no objection to be raised.
Since we are on the subject of the phenomena of sonority, let us draw
another illustration from it, quite as overwhelming in its illogicalness
as the former.
When two similar phenomena differ from one another on any side, the
discord brought about by this difference is more apparent and more
striking by reason of the closer conjunction of these phenomena. By way
of compensation the dissimilarity is less appreciable in proportion as
these phenomena are farther apart from each other.
This is rigorously logical and perfectly conformable to reason; yet
there are cases where we must affirm the contrary. Thus the same sound
produced, I will suppose, by two flutes not in accord with one another,
forms those disagreeable pulsations in the air which discordant sounds
inevitably produce. There seems to be no doubt that by gradually
bringing these discordant instruments together, the falseness of their
relation must be more and more striking, more and more intolerable.
Wrong! For then, and above all if the mouths of these instruments be
concentrically directed, a mutual translocation is produced between the
two discordant sounds, which restores the accuracy of their agreement.
Thus the lower sound is raised, while the higher one is lowered, in such
a way that the two sounds are mingled on meeting and form a perfect
unison. Now, here are contrasts, which, contrary to all rational data,
so far from being exaggerated by contact, diminish gradually, until they
are utterly annihilated. Thus, then, given two instruments of the same
nature, if the harmony which they effect be true, they enter by reason
of their conjunction into a negative state which neutralizes their
sonority; while the contrary occurs in the case of false unison. Here
the instruments become identical with one another, the sonority is
increased and the tonal deviation is corrected to the most perfect
harmony.
Obstinate rationalists, what is your logic worth here? Has it armed you
against the surprises held in store for you by a multitude of facts
inaccordant with your reasonings? Oh, proud and haughty reason, bow your
head! Confess the inanity of your ways. Bow yet, once again, and
contemplate the mystery whence luminous instruction shall beam for you!
At bottom these mysteries may surprise and baffle a reason deprived of
principle; but they are never contrary to it, because they proceed from
reason itself, from that Supreme Reason which created us in its own
image; and, by that very fact, is always in accord with individual
reason in so far as this will consent to sacrifice its own prejudices to
it, or listen to its infallible lessons.
But man's reason most frequently heeds itself alone. Thence, once again,
arise its infirmities. Thus, what will happen, if, because the truths
which I utter here are obscure and do not at the first glance appear to
conform to the requirements of logic, you hastily reject them with all
the loftiness of your scornful reason, which would blush to admit what
it did not understand! Poor reason! which in and of itself understands
so little, and admits so many follies as soon as a scholar affirms them.
The consequence will be that you will be strengthened in the error which
flatters your ignorance. Behold that proud reason which would never
bend before a mystery revealed, behold it, I say, bowed beneath the
weight of prejudices, which there will be more than one scholar, more
than one logician, ready to endorse.
Thus reason will refuse as unworthy itself, all belief in the actions of
God or of unseen spirits, the angels, heaven, but will not dare to doubt
the existence of _moving atoms_, invisible corpuscles. This is the
mental poverty into which the enemies of religious faith unwittingly
fall. They pervert that instrument of reason whose true use is to
supplement and fortify imperfect intelligence, and misuse it to
discredit and overthrow the original intuitions of intelligence.
Random Notes.
Type--Man.
Prototype--Angel.
Archetype--God.
It is within himself that man should find the reason of all he studies.
In the angels he should find the secret of his being: they are his
prototypes. Lastly, it is in the Divine archetype that we are to look
for the universal reason.
* * * * *
_The Senses._
Taste and smell say: It is _Good_.
Sight and touch say: It is _Beautiful_.
Hearing and speech say: It is _True_.
* * * * *
Every agreeable or disagreeable sight makes the body reäct backward. The
degree of reaction should be in proportion to the degree of interest
caused by the sight of the object presented to our sight.
* * * * *
The _soul_ is a triple virtue, which, by means of the powers that it
governs, forms, develops and modifies the sum total of the constituent
forces of the body.
The _body_ is that combination of co-penetrating forces whose inherent
powers govern all acts under the triple impulse of the constituent
forces of the being.
The _immanences_ are powers which, under the impulse of the constituent
virtues of the being, govern and modify the co-penetrating forces of the
body.
The _powers_ govern the forces under the impulse of the virtues.
The _virtues_ are the impulses under the sway of which the powers govern
and direct the forces.
* * * * *
Light is the symbol of order, of peace, of virtue.
* * * * *
Science and art form two means of assimilation: The one by means of
absorption, the other by means of emanation. The one, more generous than
the other, gives and communicates; the other unceasingly receives and
appeals. Science receives, art gives. By science man assimilates the
world; by art he assimilates himself to the world. Assimilation is to
science what incarnation is to art.
If science perpetuates things in us, art perpetuates us in things and
causes us to survive therein.
If by science man makes himself preëminent in subjugating the things of
this world, by art he renders them supernatural by impressing upon them
the living characters of his being and of his soul.
Art is an act by which life lives again in that which in itself has no
life.
Art should move the secret springs of life, convince the mind and
persuade the heart.
* * * * *
Beauty purifies the sense,
Truth illuminates the mind,
Virtue sanctifies the soul.
* * * * *
The more lofty the intellect, the more simple the speech. (So in art.)
* * * * *
Accent is the modulation of the soul.
* * * * *
The artist who does not love, is by that fact rendered sterile.
* * * * *
Art is a regenerating or delighting power.
* * * * *
Routine is the most formidable thing I know.
* * * * *
If you would move others, put your heart in the place of your larynx;
let your voice become a mysterious hand to caress the hearer.
* * * * *
Nothing is more deplorable than a gesture without a motive.
Perhaps the best gesture is that which is least apparent.
* * * * *
There is always voice enough to an attentive listener.
* * * * *
Persuade yourself that there are blind men and deaf men in your
audience whom you must _move_, _interest_ and _persuade!_ Your
inflection must become pantomime to the blind, and your pantomime,
inflection to the deaf.
* * * * *
The mouth plays a part in everything evil which we would express, by a
grimace which consists of protruding the lips and lowering the corners.
If the grimace translates a concentric sentiment, it should be made by
compressing the lips.
* * * * *
Conscious menace--that of a master to his subordinate--is expressed by a
movement of the head carried from above downward.
Impotent menace requires the head to be moved from below upward.
* * * * *
Any interrogation made with crossed arms must partake of the character
of a threat.
* * * * *
When two limbs follow the same direction, they cannot be simultaneous
without an injury to the law of opposition. Therefore, direct movements
should be successive, and opposite movements should be simultaneous.
* * * * *
There are three great articular centres: the _shoulder, elbow_ and
_wrist_. Passional expression passes from the shoulder, where it is in
the emotional state, to the elbow, where it is presented in the
affectional state; then to the wrist and the thumb, where it is
presented in the susceptive and volitional state.
* * * * *
Three centres in the arm: the _shoulder_ for pathetic actions; the
_elbow_, which approaches the body by reason of humility, and
reciprocally (that is, inversely) for pride; lastly, the _hand_ for
fine, spiritual and delicate actions.
* * * * *
The initial forms of movements should be--in virtue of the zones whence
they proceed--the only explicit, and consequently the only truly
expressive ones.
* * * * *
Bad actors exert themselves in vain to be moved and to afford a
spectacle to themselves. On the other hand, true artists never let their
gestures reveal more than a tenth part of the secret emotion that they
apparently feel and would hide from the audience to spare their
sensibility. Thus they succeed in stirring all spectators.
* * * * *
No, art is not an imitation of nature: art is better than nature. It is
nature illuminated.
* * * * *
There are two kinds of loud voices: the vocally loud, which is the
vulgar voice; and the dynamically loud, which is the powerful voice. A
voice, however powerful it may be, should be inferior to the power
which animates it.
* * * * *
Every object of agreeable or disagreeable aspect which surprises us,
makes the body recoil. The degree of reaction should be proportionate to
the degree of emotion caused by the sight of the object.
* * * * *
Without abnegation, no truth for the artist. We should not preoccupy the
audience with our own personality. There is no true, simple or
expressive singing without self-denial. We must often leave people in
ignorance of our own good qualities.
* * * * *
To use expression at random on our own authority, expression _at all
hazards_, is absurd.
* * * * *
The mouth is a vital thermometer, the nose a moral thermometer.
* * * * *
Dynamic wealth depends upon the number of articulations brought into
play; the fewer articulations an actor uses, the more closely he
approaches the puppet.
* * * * *
A portion of a whole cannot be seriously appreciated by any one ignorant
of the constitution of that whole.
* * * * *
An abstract having been made of the modes of execution which the artist
should learn before handling a subject, two things are first of all
requisite:
1. To know what he is to seek in that subject itself;
2. To know how to find what he seeks.
* * * * *
Is not the essential principle of art the union of truth, beauty and
good? Are its action and aim anything but a tendency toward the
realization of these three terms?
* * * * *
We have a right to ask a work of art by what methods it claims to move
us, by which side of our character it intends to interest and convince
us.
* * * * *
Speech is external, and visible thought is the ambassadress of the
intellect.
* * * * *
How should the invisible be visible when the visible is so little so!
* * * * *
One cannot be too careful of his articulation. The initial consonant
should be articulated distinctly; the spirit of the word is contained in
it.
* * * * *
Two things to be observed in the consonant: its explosion and its
preparation. The _t, d, p,_ etc., keep us waiting; the _ch, v, j,_
prepare themselves, as: "_vvvenez_." The vocals _ne, me, re_ are
muffled.
* * * * *
_Rhythm_ is that which asserts; it is the form of movement.
_Melody_ is that which distinguishes.
_Harmony_ is that which conjoins.
* * * * *
Let your attitude, gesture and face foretell what you would make felt.
* * * * *
Be wary of the tremolo which many singers mistake for vibration.
* * * * *
If you cannot conquer your defect, make it beloved.
* * * * *
A movement should never be mixed with a facial twist.
* * * * *
Things that are said quietly should sing themselves in the utterance.
Part Sixth.
Lecture and Lessons Given by Mme. Géraldy (Delsarte's Daughter) in
America.
[Illustration: Mme. Marie Delsarte-Géraldy.]
Lecture
_Delivered by Mme. Géraldy at the Berkeley Lyceum, New York, February 6,
1892_.
Ladies:
When I made up my mind to come to this country it was not with the
object of exhibiting _myself_, but to speak to you of my father. In your
country my father is much talked of. In my country, unfortunately, he is
forgotten. My father did not write anything--that is a terrible thing!
He expected to do so some day, but he always put it off. At last he
decided to do so during the war--our unfortunate war! He did not have
many lessons to give at that time, for nobody thought of taking any.
This gave him leisure to write. His work was to have borne the title,
"My Revelatory Episodes." He had only written five chapters when he
died. It was to bring to you these five chapters that I came to America.
But as soon as I began to speak of them I was stopped. "Why do you tell
us this?" they said; "we know all this already." I then discovered that
the books written on my father by the Abbé Delaumosne and by Mme.
Angélique Arnaud had been translated and published in this country. Mme.
Arnaud's book is the better of the two, but it is not practical--not at
all practical.
I have gathered together what I remember in the form of lectures, which
I offer to you. I have been asked for examples; I shall give you
examples. I will begin, however, by giving you a little biographical
sketch of my father, and by telling you how he happened to make his
discovery. He was the son of a country doctor, a man poor but original.
My father was still a very little boy when his father sent him and his
younger brother to Paris. There they were apprenticed to a jeweler and
made bands of gold. Soon the little brother died, and my father was the
only one to follow him to the cemetery. On his way back, after the
burial, he fell fainting on the plain. When he regained consciousness he
heard music in the distance, and, not knowing whence it came, thought it
was the music of the angels. Since then he dreamed of nothing but music;
he wanted to hear all he could; he longed to study it. One day he heard
two little urchins singing in the street. He asked them: "Do you know
music?" The urchins replied: "Yes!" "Will you teach it to me?" "Yes,
certainly," and they sang a scale for him. "Is that all there is of
music?" "Why, yes."
Not long after, he made the acquaintance of an old musician, who became
interested in him, gave him a few lessons, and entered him at the
Conservatoire. There he attended the elocution classes, and a role was
given to him to learn in which he had to say: "How do you do, Papa
Dugrand!" He had no success with this sentence. Each of his four
professors told him a different way of saying it, and he wondered: "How
is this? Are there, then, no principles to go by?" One day a cousin of
his arrived unexpectedly from the country. "How do you do, my dear
cousin!" And immediately after this warm greeting he ran away from his
cousin, crying, excitedly, "I have it! I have it!" and did not stop
until he got to his room and in front of a looking-glass. What he had
was the right attitude and way to say, "How do you do, Papa Dugrand!"
and this way was diametrically opposed to the instruction his professors
had given him on the subject.
My father spent forty-five years in observing. He was the king of
observers. What remains to us is but one-quarter of all his
observations. My father's method is comprehensive; it can be applied to
the arts, to the sciences. His pupils were orators, painters, sculptors,
comedians, lawyers, doctors, society amateurs.
My father had read in the first chapter of Genesis that God made man in
His image. God is Trinity. Trinity is the criterion of my father.
Raymond Brucker was an old friend of my father's. "What is this method
of your friend Delsarte?" was a question often put to him. "Delsarte's
method," he would reply, "is an orthopedic machine to straighten
crippled intellects."
My father considered man as the principle of all arts. He used three
terms to express man: Life, mind and soul. He would compare man to a
carriage occupied by a traveler. In front sits a coachman, who drives
the horse. The carriage is the body of man; the horse that makes it move
is life; the coachman who drives the horse is the mind; the occupant of
the carriage, who gives orders to the coachman, is the soul. Man feels,
thinks and loves.
My father made use of three terms to express three states: Concentric,
normal and excentric. These he would combine with each other. I will
show you, for example, the three concentric attitudes of the hand: The
concentro-concentric, expressing struggle; the concentro-normal, meaning
power; the concentro-excentric, showing convulsion. [_Illustrates._] In
the same way we have the combinations of the eyes and eyebrows, and,
again, those of the head. The head is concentro-concentric when the eyes
look in the same direction as that toward which the head inclines; this
expresses veneration. Notice how different the words, "I love him!"
sound when said first with the head inclined from and then inclined
toward the object.
An interesting series of movements for the arms that my father used to
give is the following: "It is impossible;" "It is not so;" "It is
improbable;" "Maybe;" "It is so;" "It is evident;" "There is no doubt
whatever about it." [_Illustrates._] This series is equally applicable
to affirmation and to negation. For example, you can begin by, "It is
impossible that it is not true!" and continue with that meaning.
I have been requested to give the attitudes of the feet. I do not like
to give them because they are not feminine, and I abhor all that is not
feminine. However, as I have been asked for them, and as I wish to prove
that my father had also given his attention to their study, here they
are: (1) The attitude of little children and of old men, expressing
weakness; (2) that of absolute repose; (3) vehemence; (4) prostration;
(5) transitory attitude, preparatory to (6) reverential walk; (7)
vertigo, intoxication, which is an ignoble vertigo, or familiarity; (8)
the alternative between the positions of offensive and defensive; (9)
defiance. [_Applause_.] Oh! I beg of you! [_Deprecatingly_.] It is
horribly ugly in me; but in a man it is all right.
I shall now speak of the interesting role that the shoulder plays in the
expression of emotions. My father called the shoulder "the thermometer
of passion." Indeed, the shoulders rise with every strong emotion. If I
say, "Oh! how angry I am!" without raising the shoulders, it sounds if
not false at least weak; but listen, when I raise my shoulders: "Oh! how
angry I am!" Again, if I say, "How I love you!" the words are cold; but,
with shoulders raised, listen, "How I love you!" Thus we see actors
every day who portray different passions, but whose shoulders remain
"cold;" they do not move us.
There is a very pretty observation to make about the elbow. My father
called it the "thermometer of pride and humility," and used to call our
attention to the different ways the soldiers carry their elbows. You
know we have a great many soldiers in France and we have a good, chance
to observe them. A corporal--that is, nothing at all--carries his elbows
like this [_elbows turned outward_]. A sergeant, whose rank is a little
higher than that of a corporal, carries them this way [_elbows slightly
drawn in_]. By the time he becomes lieutenant he is used to authority,
and does not have to show it off so much [_elbows drawn in still more_].
As for a general, one whose rank is the highest in the army, he walks
with his arms hanging naturally at his sides.
Now let me tell you about the thumb. My father being the son and the
nephew of doctors, was interested enough in the science to enter, at one
time, the school of medicine. Here, while dissecting, he noticed that
the thumb of a dead man falls inward toward the palm. This led him to
study the attitude of the thumb in life. He would pass days in the
garden of the Tuileries watching the nurses and the mammas carrying
their babes, noting how their thumbs spread out to clasp the precious
burden, and how the mothers' hands spread wider open than those of hired
servants; so he called the thumb "the thermometer of life."
My father always used to say to his pupils: "Be warm outwardly, cold
inwardly." He wanted them to pass suddenly from one great emotion to
another. All great actors do so. He would point to a portrait of
Garrick, representing the great actor with one-half of his face
laughing, the other half weeping. He himself, in his lessons, after
having given expression to some pathetic sentiment, would become
immediately his own kind self again. He insisted on self-possession.
Often when I was a little girl, and would slip into the room during his
lessons, for I loved to listen to them, and would find him portraying
some terrible passion, he would stop suddenly, seeing the expression of
horror on my face, and would burst out laughing and catch me in his
arms, saying: "Poor little one, are you frightened?"
"The artist," said my father, "must move, interest and convince."
Gesture is the agent of the heart. Gesture must always precede speech.
"Make me feel in advance," he used to say; "if it is something
frightful, let me read it on your face before you tell me of it." To
illustrate the practice of gesture before speech, I will now recite the
fable of "The Cock, the Cat and the Mouse." [Here followed the
recitation of the fable.]
My father once held his whole audience under a spell, showing them,
through the medium of a little girl of eight, a hundred different ways
of saying, "That dog is pretty." I will show you one or two ways If I
really think the dog is pretty, I will say it in this tone, "That dog is
pretty." If the dog's coat is soiled, I will say in a different tone,
"That dog is pretty." And if the dog has rubbed against my dress, there
will be a vexed tone, "That dog is pretty!"
My father used to divide orators into "artists in words and artists in
gesture." Those who are simply artists in words are those who do not
move you. Lamartine said of my father, "He is art itself." Théophile
Gautier said of him that he "took possession" of his public.
In 1848 the National Guard was appointed to guard the public monuments.
My father, who was a member of the Guard, had his station near an
archbishopric. A poor fellow was arrested one day who looked suspicious;
he was searched and a chaplet was found on him. The cry arose
immediately that he should be drowned. The poor man was being hustled
off when my father stopped them, saying that he claimed his part of the
punishment, and he drew from his own pocket a chaplet and showed it to
them. Oh! my father was kind. He was goodness itself. He was often asked
to give lectures at the court, but he would answer: "I do not sell my
talent, I give it." He was especially fond of his poor pupils, those who
did not pay him; he would often invite them to dine with him.
And now let me show you a series of lines which my father called the
inflective medallion. Imagine a circle [_describing a circle in the air
with her hand_]. Within this circle a vertical line, a horizontal line,
and two oblique lines, all intersecting each other. At both ends of the
vertical and horizontal lines are small curved lines, the whole forming
the medallion. This medallion contains all necessary gestures. If the
vertical line is made from on high downward ↓ [Illustration], it means
affirmation; if made from below upward ↑ [Illustration], it means hope.
The horizontal line means negation. One oblique line means simple
rejection ↙ [Illustration]; the other ↗ [Illustration] means rejection
with scorn, as in a line from Lafontaine's fable, "The Lion's Court:"
"The monarch, vexed, sent him to Pluto." The little curve at the top of
the vertical line ⌣ [Illustration] expresses ease, repose; it has the
form of a hammock. The opposite curve ⌢ [Illustration] means secrecy and
mystery. This curve ([Illustration] means amplitude. The other one, when
made in this direction ⤶ [Illustration] expresses admiration for
physical beauty, and in the other direction ⤴ [Illustration], admiration
for moral beauty. The entire circle ○ [Illustration] expresses
glorification. These gestures can be made with the whole arm, with the
forearm only, or simply with the waving hand; the degree of expression
varies accordingly.
Lastly, I will speak about the law of opposition. The arm and the head
should move in inverse directions [_illustrating_]; also the arm and the
hand. The statue of the Gladiator is a beautiful example of this law of
opposition. He is what we French call "well based;" you cannot overthrow
him. In contrast to him, my father used to cite Punchinello, the
children's toy, an object of ridicule. Punchinello, when the string is
pulled, raises his right arm and his right leg at the same time.
Notice the different ways in which people scold. The schoolmaster moves
his head from above downward; the boy threatens back, tossing his head
upward.
And now, ladies, I hope that what I have said will move you to take a
deeper interest in my father's work, and enable you to understand his
methods better than heretofore. I shall then feel, when I return to my
country, that I have not crossed the Atlantic in vain.
The Course of Lessons Given in America By Mme. Géraldy
Mme. Géraldy prefaced her course of lessons with the following remarks:
God is Trinity. Man, created in the image of God, bears the seal of the
Trinity. In these lessons we shall analyze our whole person. We shall
dwell upon three terms: Concentric, normal, excentric. We find them
everywhere.
1, excentric; 2, concentric; 3, normal.
[Illustration]
|--------------------------------|
| | | |
| | | 2 2 |
| | | |
| | | c. c. |
| | | |
|--------------------------------|
| | | |
| | 3 3 | |
| | | |
| | n. n. | |
| | | |
|--------------------------------|
| | | |
| 1 1 | | |
| | | |
| cx. cx. | | |
| | | |
|--------------------------------|
We will begin with the eye--it is the most difficult.
Lesson I.
The Eye and the Eyebrow.
Concentric Closed.
The Eye. Normal Open, without expression.
Excentric Wide open.
Concentric Lowered.
The Eyebrow. Normal Without expression.
Excentric Raised.
Combinations of the Eye and Eyebrow.
Eye. Eyebrow. Expression.
Concentric Concentric In tenseness of thought.
Concentric Normal Heaviness, or somnolency.
Concentric Excentric Disdain.
Normal Concentric Moroseness.
Normal Normal Without expression.
Normal Excentric Indifference.
Excentric Concentric Firmness.
Excentric Normal Stupor.
Excentric Excentric Astonishment.
The expressions of stupor and of astonishment
are greatly increased when preceded by a quivering
of the eyelid (blinking). This should be very rapid
and very energetic. Delsarte always insisted on this
blinking.
Anxiety calls for a double movement of the eyebrows:
First, contract them; secondly, raise them.
Vitality is expressed by raising the outer part of
the eyebrows. This accomplishment is very rare;
but, then, it is not necessary.
Contraction of the lower eyelid expresses sensitiveness.
Lesson II.
The Head.
Concentric Bent forward.
The Head. Normal Upright.
Excentric Bent backward.
Combinations of Head-movements.
Concentro-concentric Bent forward and inclined to one side (toward
the person): Veneration.
Concentro-normal Bent forward: Examination.
Concentro-excentric Bent forward and inclined to the other side
(from the person): Suspicion.
Normo-concentric Inclined toward the person: Tenderness.
Normo-normal Upright: Without expression.
Normo-excentric Inclined from the person: Sensuality.
Excentro-concentric Bent backward and inclined to one side (toward
the person): Abandon.
Excentro-normal Bent backward, straight: Exaltation, vehemence.
Excentro-excentric Bent backward and inclined to the other side
(from the person): Pride.
It is the position of the eye that determines the expression of the
head, for it is the direction of the eye that tells us on which side the
object of veneration, suspicion, etc., is supposed to be. The shoulders
should be observed here. They are the thermometer of passion; the
stronger the emotion, the higher they should be raised.
Lesson III.
The Hand.
Concentric.......... Closed.
The Hand. Normal.............. Open.
Excentric .......... Wide open.
Combinations of Hand-Movements.
Concentro-concentric Fist closed tight, thumb pressing against the
knuckles: Struggle.
Concentro-normal Hand closed, thumb resting lightly against the
side of the index finger: Power, authority.
Concentro-excentric Hand open, fingers contracted: Convulsion.
Normo-concentric Limp, fingers turned slightly inward:
Prostration.[A]
Normo-normal Limp: Abandon.