actor, or elocutionist), to sing well, it is, above all things,
necessary that the performer's mind should be in a state of conformity
with the situation which is to be described. His flow of thought, and
consequent breathing and mode of expression, will then correspond with
the scope, drift, and circumstance underlying his performance. Unless
this is the case, the latter will be unsatisfactory, unimpressive,
unsympathetic. To prove that for a satisfactory performance this _must_
be the case, it will but be necessary to call attention to the fact
that under various emotions our mode of breathing undergoes great
changes--as under fear, hate, jealousy, indignation, excitement, love,
enthusiasm, benevolence, languor, apathy, etc. Our breathing under
these different circumstances will, the same as the manner of our
expression, undergo various stages of change as to time and measure, as
well as to rhythm, emphasis and intonation.
The character and rapidity of the flow of our blood is of the same
order as our manner of breathing. It is, in fact, as I expect to prove
later on, not only of the same order, but of the same origin and
regulated by the same causes. The flow of the blood is not merely of a
material order, but of a spiritual one as well. While it is acted upon
by the mind it reacts upon the mind.
The thought must be measured and restricted as to time, so as to enable
it to make the proper impression and produce a corresponding expression
_before_ another thought comes along crowding in upon the preceding one
and in so doing _blurring_ the impression made by the latter before it
had been given the time to be expressed. If the necessary time is not
granted for an impression to be made and for the expression thereof
to obliterate the same, the premature flow of another thought, coming
on top of the first, will make a new impression over the previous
one, causing confusion and making a clear expression a matter of
impossibility. Unless our professor, while standing in front of his
blackboard demonstrating before his class, has a sponge in his hand,
and before again writing in the same place wipes out that which he had
written before, the new writing will not be of such a nature that it
can be understood. The slate endures; but the thought and the writing
are always new. Yet, when such writing is of an _impressive_ nature, it
is like that of a palimpsest; though apparently obliterated, its lines
remain, and their meaning can be recalled to memory as often as the
occasion may demand it.
The "muddle" of which I have spoken is oftentimes so great that no
sound of any kind can ensue, the rhythmic flow of sound-producing
streams having been disturbed and prevented from assuming the necessary
shape for their formation into proper sound-waves by this hasty mode of
thinking. The consequence is a hiatus in the natural flow of speech,
which prevents the thought from materializing in the shape of the word
intended to be spoken. This hiatus the victim of such precipitate mode
of thinking generally attempts to bridge over by spasmodic efforts,
which but serve to aggravate the situation, increasing, as they do, the
disorder in the sound-producing lines.
Stuttering being caused by a disorder in these lines, the remedy is
to again restore them to order. The disorder having been caused by a
too hasty mode of thinking, superinduced, as a rule, by a desire _not_
to stutter, or a _fear_ of stuttering, the remedy lies in allaying
this fear. The fear of stuttering, or the anxiety not to stutter,
which obtains while the speaker is producing thought, _itself being
thought_, and coming on top of the thought intended to be uttered,
brings about, or at least aggravates, the very difficulty he was trying
to overcome. Mere thought may wander off and again return to its theme,
unrestrained, and without causing disturbance; but thought which is
to be _vocally_ uttered must strictly adhere to its subject. There
is no impression to be made by the former which must remain until it
is released by vocal sound; impression and expression being almost
simultaneous. In place of making a spasmodic effort, therefore, the
stutterer should endeavor to be calm, and to then calmly _think_ the
word or sentence over again which has become a stumbling-block in his
way. After doing so, he will have no trouble uttering it.
The fact that stutterers experience no difficulty in singing is a proof
of the correctness of these assertions. While singing, the performer's
streams of life and organs of speech are all _tuned_ to one harmonious
measure. His frame of mind being securely in accord with his theme,
his thought, devoid of fear, flows evenly along with his song. There
is no occasion for haste or trepidation in this instance,--there
cannot be, haste being the opposite to and the enemy of harmony, the
latter meaning a continuous return of the same measure and the same
mode of breathing, the former irregularity and disorder in the mode of
breathing.
Besides, song, belonging to the pharynx, is spiritual; it is of our
inner nature, and therefore restful and continuous. While speech, which
belongs to the oral cavity, is material; it is of our outer nature,
and therefore subject to every impression, influence, and consequent
change. Elocution, declamation, or recitation, on the other hand,
partake of both our inner and our outer nature. They belong in part to
the pharynx and in part to the oral cavity.
Experiments may be made by means of making these respective parts rigid
which will establish the correctness of these assertions.
These experiments can also be made by the application of mechanical
pressure. When pressing your hand or fingers against your throat you
will be unable to speak, though it will not prevent you from singing.
By pressing them against the back of your neck you will be unable to
sing, though you may speak. By pressing them against either side of
your neck you will be unable to recite, though you may both speak
and sing. The slightest pressure, even, will produce these results.
Let me remark, however, that unless the _thought_ of the performance
accompanies it, a mere mechanical pressure will not suffice.
That _thought_, improperly exercised, is the cause of stuttering or
stammering, obtains from the fact, that the utterance of the singer,
elocutionist or actor, being a matter of memory, and not of original
thought, is _not_ subject to these troubles; though the utterance of
the same persons while speaking, and in so doing, _thinking_, may be
subject thereto.
Not appreciating its significance, I used to laugh with everybody else
at the anecdote of a stuttering boy in an apothecary shop, who had been
sent down after some article in the cellar. Returning, pale, trembling,
and _stammering_, his master cried out, "Sing, sing!" whereupon he
delivered himself thus:
"Der spiritus im keller brennt,
Und alles steht in flammen."
("The spirits, master, are aflame,
And all things are a-burning.")
In a recent number of _Cosmopolis_, Prof. Max Müller said:
"Charles Kingsley was a great martyr to stammering, and it was
torture to him to keep conversation waiting until he could put
his thoughts into words. Singularly enough, at church, Kingsley
did not stammer at all in reading or speaking; but on his way
home from church he would say to one with whom he was walking:
'Oh, let me stammer now; you won't mind it!'"
While his thoughts were concentrated on his subject, which had probably
been elaborated beforehand and was expressed in rhythmic language,
besides being obliged to speak slowly and deliberately so as to be
heard and understood, he experienced no difficulty. Still, he was under
a restraint. As soon as he was by himself again, he commenced to think
impulsively, as probably was his habit, and gave vent to a torrent of
thoughts, which overleaped each other like waters rushing through a
broken dam.
There are two main forms in which this trouble manifests itself. The
one is a surfeit, a crowding together of sounds, all of which want to
come to the surface at one and the same time, like a crowd of people
during a panic trying to rush out through the same door, thus causing
a jam. This form, creating a hiatus in vocal utterance, is generally
designated by the term "stammering." That which is called "stuttering,"
on the other hand, consisting, as it does, in a repetition of the
same sound, is due to the opposite cause. While the former is due
to too great an effort, this is due to a paucity of effort. The
sound-furnishing element is not under control; it leaks out against
the will, it runs away with you. Hence a repetition of the form once
assumed, in consequence of a lack of nerve force, of a rein to keep it
in check, of a brake preventing it from rushing down-hill with you;
in contradistinction to the act of stammering, in which the brake had
been too forcibly applied, the watch wound up too firmly and beyond its
requirements.
In the case of stammering the impression has been too quick in shaping
itself into words; in the other it has been too slow in so doing. In
the former case too many moulds have been formed for proper impression;
while in the latter the sound is spoken before the mould has been
properly and _completely_ formed; that part only which had been formed
being uttered and repeated. In the case of stammering there is a
surfeit of impression but a want of sound; in that of stuttering there
is a want of impression but a surfeit of sound. A stammerer is one who
takes in too much, a stutterer one who takes in too little, air for his
hasty way of thinking.
When this trouble happens with one and the same person--as it sometimes
does--it first assumes one shape and then the other; it turns a
complete somersault in so doing. The balance, the equilibrium, the
point of gravitation, previously overleaped on one side, is again
overleaped, and the person lands on its extreme other side. While a
stammerer he had too much ballast on board, now he has too little.
A stammerer can return to the point of gravitation by throwing some of
his surplus ballast overboard. _His tongue being tied to his lower jaw,
in which position he is constantly taking in more air than he needs, he
must raise it in order to let the surplus out from beneath the same._
A stutterer, whose tongue is running away with him, owing to an
insufficiency of ballast, must take in enough (inspire sufficiently) to
bring him back to his point of gravitation. _His tongue is in a loose
state of elevation, in which position the air is constantly streaming
out (expiring) from beneath the same._ He must _lower_ it to have _his_
balance restored, as in so doing the air will stream in over and above
the tongue until the equilibrium has been restored. In other words,
the person who is thus agitated must calm himself, he must relax from
an overstrain in either one direction or the other. The diaphragm,
holding the balance of power, will be found to be in as uncontrollable
a condition as the tongue, _with which it always acts in unison_. In
restoring the tongue to a normal condition we restore the diaphragm to
a normal condition.
The institutions for the cure of stuttering, stammering, and
intermediate stages of the same trouble, attempt to bring about a state
of restoration of the disturbed balance by means arrived at through
experience. The real cause being unknown, the remedies must necessarily
be restricted. If persons thus afflicted will take their own cases in
hand and treat them in conformity with the precepts here laid down, the
chances are in favor of their being cured where no other remedy had
been of any avail.
As the preceding remarks have been made from the point of view of an
English-speaking person, the standpoint of a German being diametrically
opposite, the same must all be reversed to fit the case of a German,
in so far as locality is concerned. _For stammering, the tongue of a
German is closely wedged in, in the direction of the roof of the mouth;
for stuttering, it is loosely pointing downward._ This is owing to the
fact that a German inspires from under and beneath, and expires from
over and above, his tongue; just the reverse of the manner in which
this is done by an English-speaking person.
In order to efficiently cure the trouble of stuttering, it is necessary
that the act of breathing and sound-production should be closely
studied with every separate nationality, as these processes differ with
all nationalities; this difference being very pronounced as between
Germans and Anglo-Saxons. For an American to go to Germany, therefore,
to be cured of this trouble, is as false a step as for a German to go
to the United States or England for this purpose.
While I have in the preceding endeavored to give an account of the
general causes which result in stuttering, I have not touched upon such
special causes as are directly connected with the character and origin
of vocal sounds; the explanation of which must be postponed to a future
period.
THE CATHODE OF A VOCAL SOUND
By an accident, in some respects not unlike the one which drew
Roentgen's attention to the light by whose aid we have learned to look
into and through opaque bodies, I (myself an accident, an appearance
on and soon to be a disappearance from the illuminated surface of the
earth) have discovered eternal laws, by whose aid we shall be able to
comprehend much of what has heretofore been as a closed book to us,
regarding our physical and psychical nature and the exercise of our
faculties and functions.
During my endeavors to overcome the difficulties which my German tongue
offered to the perfect pronunciation of the English "r" sound, and
during an almost frantic effort on one occasion at so doing, I was
amazed by the fact that while one "r" came to the surface from over and
above the tongue, another made its appearance from under and beneath
the same. The latter was the "r" of the voice of the œsophagus. Of all
this, however, I have spoken at length in my previous publication.
Though it occurred to me at once like a flash that this was a
revelation of the greatest importance, its real significance was only
made clear to me in the course of time. No matter how I view it, as
time progresses it assumes greater and greater proportions. There is
no event in the history of man which appears to me to be of greater
significance. Through this "accident" I was induced to look closer
and closer into my inner nature, where, to my amazement, I found
that a world, apparently silent and mysterious, and supposed to be
unapproachable, was the abode of numberless physical and psychical
phenomena, clearly defined and definable.
The "r" which came to the surface from beneath my tongue by way of
the œsophagus was the cathode, the negative end of this sound. The
_product_ of its combination with the _simple_ "r" (which came to the
surface from over and above the tongue by way of the trachea) I had
hitherto produced when attempting to speak English, was the _vocal_
"r" sound of the English language; the "r" I had hitherto produced
having been the anode--the positive and first part of this sound only.
As Roentgen's cathodic light has illuminated the physical body, so
have cathodic sounds illumined for me the spiritual body of my mundane
existence. I am endeavoring to show my fellowmen this "new light,"
whose lustre, also invisible on ordinary occasions, when once seen is
so great that it will never again fade from the memory of the beholder.
As time progresses, it will continue to penetrate ever more deeply into
regions hitherto considered to be impervious to any kind of light;
regions whose phenomena have been called supernatural, or, at least,
beyond the sphere of the knowledge of man. All other anodes or cathodes
of which we have obtained any knowledge belong to physical phenomena
only. The cathode I have discovered belongs to our spiritual life,
being a part of a living vocal sound.
Think of it! To be able to divide the essence of life and to obtain two
_living_ parts, each endowed with a life of its own! This is a nearer
approach to the knowledge of life than any ever attained before. A
_vocal_ sound is an entity. From entities we cannot learn anything.
They are phenomena complete in themselves. Regarding their innermost
nature, they have always been to us as a closed book. They offer us no
vantage-ground; no opening, no breach, through which we can enter into
the mysterious process of their existence. No matter whether such life
or existence be that of the minutest parasite of a minute vegetable
growth, that growth itself, or the giant of the forest; whether it
be that of a microbe or the microbe of a microbe; whether it be the
essence of a thought, a sigh, a tear, a look, a vocal sound, or of a
human being--their innermost natures are all alike mysterious to us. I
have succeeded in analyzing a vocal sound, and this apparently simple
proceeding has opened up to me endless vistas in endless directions. I
have reduced this entity into its natural elements, and have again put
these together. After resolving it into two lives I have again formed
it into one. I can bring about this analysis as well as this synthesis
at will at any time.
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.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
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.