impression of which speech is the expression. If this were not the
case, it would not be possible to pass from thinking to speaking or
from speaking to thinking at once, and without an effort. To produce
English speech, we must think English in a material way, that is,
anteriorly, and in so doing produce an instrument from which English
material or speech sounds emanate. To produce English song, we must
think English in a spiritual way, that is, posteriorly, and in so
doing produce an instrument from which English spiritual or song
sounds emanate. We cannot think English in either of these two ways
and produce German or Italian sounds for speech or song; nor can we
produce the latter sounds in any other manner than by _thinking_,
either materially or spiritually, in these languages, and in the proper
idiomatic manner inherent therein.
How can an English-speaking person, physically and spiritually formed
for English expression, and for no other expression, produce proper
Italian sounds? She will think Italian in an English way; and, while
singing Italian words, produce them with an English expression. That is
not singing Italian, however, but English. Is it likely that she will
succeed in acquiring the Italian mode of expression while her teacher
himself is ignorant of just what that mode consists in, and in what
it differs from the native mode of vocal expression of his scholar?
You might as well attempt to produce on a violin the sounds of a
violoncello or some other instrument.
To illustrate the power of the natural voice, it will but be necessary
to call attention to what occurs in almost any concert wherein one of
America's own daughters, now "_prima donna assoluta_," is the main
performer. She sings a grand aria, the work of an Italian master,
highly artistically and perfectly rendered. Musicians are delighted;
the public applauds. She reënters, and now the _donna_, changed to a
simple American, sings one of England's or America's own songs. The
audience, which before had been languidly listening, at the first
notes of this song is stirred, electrified, and now listens intently.
When she ceases to sing, there is a storm of applause, as to almost
shake the house. Where the artistic sense alone had been engaged
before, the hearts and the souls of her hearers have now been touched.
Yet I have seen the eccentric Von Buelow deliberately take out his
handkerchief after such a demonstration and wipe the "desecration" of
the "ditty" from the keys of the piano which had accompanied the song,
before he deigned to dignify it with one of his "classic" renderings.
No doubt he had much contempt for it all: the song, the singer, and
the public. The treasures of that "ditty," however, were of an order
similar to those hidden within the breast of every one composing that
audience. The pearls, floating through the room from the lips of one
of its own daughters, had, with a sympathetic touch, stirred it to
its very depths, while the foreign "aria" had left it comparatively
cold. Supposing an _Italian_ singer were to sing an English "aria" in
the English language to an Italian audience, and, after that, were
to produce one of her own simple Italian songs, would not the effect
be the same? Would Italians, in fact, care to listen to her English
interpretation, no matter how artistically rendered?
It is an entirely different thing, however, for German or Italian
singers to come here and sing their own songs in their own native
tongue. Though foreign, the production is genuine. They sing what
belongs to them, that in which they live, breathe; they sing their own
soul. Such a performance we can comprehend and appreciate, even as we
view a foreigner with interest, and honor him for that which is great
and good in him, and for which he is distinguished. We can soon _feel_
what is genuine and also that which is not; the former being nature's
own production, the latter imitated, forced--unnatural. Italians do not
sing English or German songs; why should Germans and English-speaking
people sing Italian and French songs, to the exclusion, very often, of
their own?
It was but recently that I heard a German choral society sing German
songs to a delighted American audience. Then came something weird,
strange; it was German, yet the words were not German. Looking at the
programme, it turned out to be the famous plantation song, "'Way down
upon the Suwannee River." The audience looked bewildered; there was
no applause, though, judging by the attitude of the singers, they had
expected to make this the grand hit of the evening.
The last performance of the great festival of the United German singers
in Philadelphia, in 1897, was the production of the "Star-Spangled
Banner." Everything in the appearance of the singers showed that this
finale was to be the crowning act of the entire festival. All the
singers, male and female, participated, and "Old Glory" was waved in
the air during the performance. But, as I had feared, it was a complete
failure. Instead of the vast audience spontaneously rising to its feet
and being carried away by enthusiasm, it remained cold and indifferent,
and there was no applause commensurate with what it would have been had
the performers sung the words with the true ring in them and the true
English accent. The same thing would happen if the "Marseillaise" were
sung in France, or the "Wacht am Rhein" in Germany, by foreign singing
societies, no matter how excellently schooled, and how artistically
rendered.
A similar experience was had by Madame Brinkerhoff, who relates the
same in _The Vocalist_ of December, 1896, as follows:
"To show how language is imbedded in the _timbre_ of the voice,
I will relate an incident of last season. On the first night
of the representation of the 'Scarlet Letter,' by Damrosch,
sung by German singers, I was not surprised or in the least
displeased at hearing this beautiful opera sung with the German
_timbre_ of voice; but after listening to a whole act, I heard
no German words; I listened in vain for the shaping of their
consonants and vowels, although I heard the German sounds or
_timbres_. So I asked the lady seated next to me what language
the people on the stage were singing. 'German,' she replied. I
said: 'But I hear no German words. Will you kindly listen and
tell me when you hear German words?' She listened and replied,
'No, I do not hear German words, but I thought before it was
German.' She asked me if it was English. We could not decide it
until the lights were turned on, and looked at the programme,
which read, 'sung in English.'
"This summer I asked a distinguished singer and teacher of
Philadelphia in what language the 'Scarlet Letter' was sung in
that city. She replied, 'Oh, German, of course.' 'Did you hear
it?' I asked. 'Yes, and I enjoyed it very much, and it was sung
in German,' she replied. 'It said in English on the programme,'
I said. 'Well, if I was fooled, a great many more were
fooled--beside myself, all our party thought so too. What are
you going to do about it?' Gounod says: 'I did not like Italian
singing; their tones were attacked so differently from the
French method of singing that it was unpleasant at first, but I
went again and again, for I could not stay away. I enjoyed it
so much.'"
This is what Frau Johanna Gadski had to say in an interview printed in
_Werner's Magazine_:
"I have never had any lessons in acting. The director of the
Choral Opera told me at the outset that it was better to act
by feeling when singing than by instruction. If one studies
only acting and singing, one is not always natural. That is the
reason why one who does not speak German does not understand
the German people and their spirit, is not a German, and
cannot sing the Wagner rôles. One must have the German spirit.
Sometimes you write here in your papers that German singers
cannot sing. I think they sing German rôles very well. One must
sing, act, and, above everything, feel at the same time, and
then one can speak to the heart of the listener."
Singing in a foreign tongue is, and must be, and always will be (until
these things are more thoroughly understood), to a large extent, simply
mechanical. Until then, the soul-stirring depth (_der Zauber_) of the
native composition will always be wanting. The Anglo-Saxon race has
been altogether too dependent upon European continental nations for
its examples, its support, and its development in _all_ branches of
art. This has been more particularly the case in regard to music and
song. Though German music, for obvious reasons, which give Germans
the preponderance on this field of art, ranks first among nations,
still there should be among English-speaking nations a greater native
development thereof in harmony with the national expression.
_Song_, above all, must be national; it must be in harmony with the
_genius_ of a nation to attain its highest development. It is too
closely allied to a nation's speech to be separated therefrom without
doing violence to both its music and its meaning. The music and the
words _must go together_; their union is as indispensable as it is
indissoluble. While we have excellent vocal material in this country,
it lacks the proper food for its nourishment. There is no want of
poetic compositions. No nation has their superior, or has them in
greater abundance. We have the words and the singers; but there is a
woful lack of a higher class of compositions for singing. The latter
are not at all commensurate with the abundance and the superiority of
the talent that is awaiting their appearance.
With compositions on a par with its vocal talent, this nation might
rank first among nations in the art of singing. It must stand on its
own footing. It must sing its own songs and must be taught by its
own teachers. This dictum may provoke indignation in "foreign" vocal
teachers. Though I regret the possible consequences to them, this
cannot be helped. Science is synonymous with knowledge, and knowledge
with truth, and "the truth must be told if the heavens should fall."
BREATHING
All of the preceding, in a manner, may be said to be a preliminary
argument for the great truth I claim to have discovered, namely, that
_in the sphere of the trunk of our body the material part of our nature
is represented by the hemisphere of the abdomen, its immaterial part by
that of the thorax; that in the sphere of the head a similar division
obtains, in conformity with which it is also divided into hemispheres
representing material and immaterial issues; and that every faculty,
and the exercise thereof, have their being in a dual action, in close
succession, emanating from these hemispheres._
The first proposition to be proven was that we breathe through the
œsophagus, conjointly with the trachea. If all I have said in the
preceding has not already convinced the reader of the truth of this
statement, I trust the following experiments will thoroughly convince
him thereof. These experiments will also furnish additional proof of
the fact that English and German modes of respiration are of an inverse
order.
Not the slightest fear need be entertained as to the result of these
experiments. I have made the same, and others of a similar nature, over
and over again, without being in the least discomfited thereby; and I
may add that to the fact of having been entirely divested of fear, I
largely owe my success in all these undertakings.
If you are an Anglo-Saxon, and make the muscles of your throat rigid,
thereby stopping inspiration through the trachea into the thorax, you
will soon experience a decided movement of the abdomen, in conformity
with which it will first expand anteriorly, then posteriorly, and again
anteriorly. There will now be a pause, after which the abdomen will
be first expanded posteriorly, then anteriorly, and again posteriorly.
This is as far as you can go; you will be compelled to release your
hold on your throat after these six movements; the thorax meanwhile
remaining passive.
Upon next making the muscles of the back of your neck rigid, equal to
those of the œsophagus, the latter being thereby closed to respiration,
you will soon experience a decided movement of the thorax, by which
it will be first expanded posteriorly, then anteriorly, and again
posteriorly. There will now be a pause, after which the thorax will be
first expanded anteriorly, then posteriorly, and again anteriorly.
These twelve movements constitute one act of respiration during which
inspiration and expiration for thorax and abdomen equalize each other.
The first three movements of the abdomen, consisting of an inspiration,
an expiration, and an inspiration, constitute what is commonly called
an inspiration; the second three movements of the abdomen, consisting
of an expiration, an inspiration, and an expiration, constitute what
is commonly called an expiration. Of the six movements of the thorax
succeeding these, the first three, consisting of an inspiration, an
expiration, and an inspiration, are equal to an inspiration; the last
three, consisting of an expiration, an inspiration, and an expiration,
are equal to an expiration. We thus have four complete respirations,
two of which, equal to an inspiration and an expiration, belong to the
abdomen; and two, likewise equal to an inspiration and an expiration,
belong to the thorax.
Inasmuch as each of these four respirations is composed of three
separate movements, one complete respiration consists of twelve
separate movements of the respiratory organs. This relates to our
ordinary mode of breathing. For vocal utterance, more especially the
utterance of a vocal sound, these four respirations are first made
for the impression, and are then, in an inverse order, repeated for
the expression. This gives us eight movements, or an _octave_ of
movements, for each vocal sound; these eight movements, as a matter of
fact, consisting of twenty-four separate movements of the respiratory
organs. These movements, which in our experiment were of relatively
long duration, during our ordinary mode of breathing follow upon one
another very rapidly; thorax and abdomen, which during our experiment
were restrained, ordinarily and when unrestrained, acting and reacting
upon one another in quick succession.
The preceding experiment gives us the following result:
ABDOMEN
Movement 1. Anterior, inspiration.}
" 2. Posterior, expiration.} _Inspiration._
" 3. Anterior, inspiration.}
" 4. Posterior, expiration.}
" 5. Anterior, inspiration.} _Expiration._
" 6. Posterior, expiration.}
THORAX
Movement 1. Posterior, inspiration.}
" 2. Anterior, expiration. } _Inspiration._
" 3. Posterior, inspiration.}
" 4. Anterior, expiration. }
" 5. Posterior, inspiration.} _Expiration._
" 6. Anterior, expiration. }
All of the preceding has reference to the Anglo-Saxon mode of breathing.
Germans, under the same circumstances, will make movements of an
inverse order.
The first movement of the abdomen will be posterior, the next
anterior, the third posterior, which will be succeeded by anterior,
posterior, and anterior ones; while the movements of the thorax
will be anterior, posterior, and anterior, succeeded by posterior,
anterior, and posterior ones. This shows that _with Germans, expiration
antecedes inspiration_, while _with Anglo-Saxons, inspiration antecedes
expiration_.
In our experiment, with Anglo-Saxons, _inspiration_ took place in
the abdomen by two movements anteriorly to one posteriorly, and in
the thorax by two movements posteriorly to one anteriorly; while
_expiration_ took place by two movements of the abdomen posteriorly to
one anteriorly, and in the thorax by two movements anteriorly to one
posteriorly, as per this schedule:
ANGLO-SAXON Abdomen
1. Inspiration, Ant., post., ant.
2. Expiration, Post., ant., post.
ANGLO-SAXON Thorax
3. Inspiration, Post., ant., post.
4. Expiration, Ant., post., ant.
In the case of a German, it would have been more proper, for our
experiment, to have _first_ closed the muscles to the œsophagus, and
then those to the trachea, as Germans first breathe into the œsophagus
and then into the thorax. Had this been done, the result would have
been inverse to that of our experiment, as follows: The first movement
of the thorax would have been one of inspiration, the same as the first
movement of the abdomen; and the second movement of the thorax would
have been one of expiration, the same as the second movement of the
abdomen, thus:
GERMAN Thorax
1. Inspiration, Ant., post., ant.
2. Expiration, Post., ant., post.
Abdomen
3. Inspiration, Post., ant., post.
4. Expiration, Ant., post., ant.
_This shows that the movements of the abdomen are the reverse of those
of the thorax_:
With _Anglo-Saxons_, in such a manner that, while for the abdomen
_inspiration_ takes place anteriorly, it takes place for the thorax
posteriorly; and that, while for the abdomen _expiration_ takes place
posteriorly, it takes place for the thorax anteriorly;
With _Germans_, in such a manner that, while for the thorax
_inspiration_ takes place anteriorly, it takes place for the abdomen
posteriorly; and that, while for the thorax _expiration_ takes place
posteriorly, it takes place for the abdomen anteriorly.
These various modes of breathing find an illustration in the following:
Anglo-Saxons, while carrying a burden (for which purpose it is
necessary to hold the breath or to economize the same as much
as possible), inspire into the abdomen anteriorly and the chest
posteriorly, and in so doing expand the same accordingly; while
Germans, under the same circumstances, breathe into and expand the
abdomen posteriorly and the chest anteriorly. The action of the former
tending away from the diaphragm, that of the latter tending towards it,
exercise an influence on the spinal column which causes Anglo-Saxons
while carrying a burden to assume an erect, Germans a stooping
position. This has already been illustrated by calling attention to the
difference between the position of the Greek and Gothic caryatides,
the former representing the Anglo-Saxon, the latter the German mode of
breathing. The order for German soldiers, "Brust heraus, Bauch herein"!
("Breast out, belly in"), for Anglo-Saxons should be, "Breast in, belly
out"! The former gives German soldiers that stiff appearance, tending
towards the diaphragm, of which Heine has said:
"Als haetten sie verschluckt den Stock,
Womit man sie einst gepruegelt."
("As if the stick they'd swallowed
With which they once were walloped.")
The fact that inspiration always consists in an inspiration, an
expiration, and an inspiration, while expiration consists in an
expiration, an inspiration, and an expiration, is one of the most
interesting observations I have made in connection with these studies.
These facts may be generalized in saying: There is no action connected
with life which consists of a single movement in any one single
direction; every action, of whatsoever nature, if it is outgoing,
consisting of an outgoing, ingoing, and outgoing movement; if it is
ingoing, of an ingoing, outgoing, and ingoing movement; every superior
movement consisting of a superior, an inferior, and a superior; every
inferior, of an inferior, a superior, and an inferior one; every left
movement, of one to the left, to the right, and to the left; every
right movement, of one to the right, to the left, and to the right; the
last movement _only_ being visible and accompanying action.
While our experiment is representative of the general principles
underlying our mode of breathing, the act of breathing, proper, is
subject to many variations. During their waking moments, or for
conversation, with Anglo-Saxons respiration takes place by thorax and
abdomen changing off, alternately, while with Germans they succeed one
another in the same manner as they did in our experiment, commencing,
however, with the thorax instead of with the abdomen, and with
expiration instead of with inspiration, as follows:
ANGLO-SAXON
1. Insp. Thorax--post., ant., post.
2. " Abd.--ant., post., ant.
3. Exp. Abd.--post., ant., post.
4. " Thorax--ant., post., ant.
GERMAN.
1. Exp. Thorax--post., ant., post.
2. Insp. " --ant., post., ant.
3. Exp. Abd.--ant., post., ant.
4. Insp. " --post., ant., post.
This shows an indirect movement for Anglo-Saxon, a direct movement for
German respiration. Hence, English enunciation is necessarily slow,
German relatively quick. It also shows that the reserve force with
Anglo-Saxons is held before it is expended; with Germans it is expended
almost as fast as it is engendered.
As there is an apparent discrepancy between the last schedule and the
previous one showing Anglo-Saxon mode of inspiration, I want to remind
the reader that our "experiment" was made mainly to set forth the
fact that we breathe through the œsophagus conjointly with breathing
through the trachea; but it was not intended to show our regular mode
of breathing.
Though Germans and Anglo-Saxons breathe in opposite directions, still
there is an affinity between them in so far as they breathe _along the
same plane_. Peoples who speak any of the Latin tongues, on the other
hand, breathe along a different plane, and so do Slavonic, Mongolian,
and other races. Anglo-Saxons and Germans, therefore, though opposed
to one another in one sense, are affiliated in another; and both may
be, therefore, as they often are, said to belong to the Teutonic
race, together with other peoples along the borders of the North and
Baltic Seas. In a similar manner, no doubt, other races possess their
similitudes and dissimilarities.
It should scarcely require any further proof on my part after this
and all I have previously said to show that, if any of the peoples
now speaking Latin tongues were in place thereof to speak English or
German, they would, in the course of time, cease to be Frenchmen,
Spaniards, or Italians, as the case might be, and would become
Anglo-Saxons or Germans; or that, if any of the Slavonic races or
peoples would do the same, the same result would eventually ensue; and
also that, if Anglo-Saxon or German peoples were to speak Latin or
Slavonic tongues in place of their own, they would eventually cease to
be Anglo-Saxons or Germans, and would become the people whose tongue
they were speaking; always provided, of course, that such tongues were
to be spoken _idiomatically_ correctly. Should any one still doubt
that language is the mainspring formulating peoples and nations in all
that essentially belongs to them and distinguishes them as such, I
confidently believe that that which I shall still further have to say
on this subject will eventually convince even the most obdurate of the
correctness of these assertions.
The preceding schedules both for English-and German-speaking peoples
show their mode of breathing during their waking moments and for
the purpose of conversation. During sleep and for the demands of
the singing voice, however, thorax and abdomen interchange with
one another in so harmonious a manner that their inspirations and
expirations appear as one respective inspiration and expiration.
The following schedules will show the relation of metre and rhythm to
breathing.
Inspiration being of longer duration than expiration, I have in the
following signified the former by the sign for long (¯), the latter
by that for short (˘); while for the rise of the voice I have used
the sign for acute (´), and for its fall that for grave (`); for
comparison, see schedule on page 202.
ANGLO-SAXON Abdomen Thorax
1. Inspiration, `´` 3. Inspiration, `´`
¯˘¯ ¯˘¯
2. Expiration, ´`´ 4. Expiration, ´`´
˘¯˘ ˘¯˘
An experiment may be made by an Anglo-Saxon adopting the German mode of
breathing and then attempting to speak English, or by a German adopting
the Anglo-Saxon mode of breathing and then attempting to speak German,
which neither will succeed in doing.