THE MARTIAN CYCLE (CONTINUED)—THE MARTIAN LANGUAGE
Of the various automatic phenomena, the “speaking in tongues” is one
which at all times has most aroused curiosity, while at the same
time little accurate knowledge concerning it has been obtainable, on
account of the difficulty of collecting correctly the confused and
unintelligible words as they gush forth.
The phonograph, which has already been employed in some exceptional
cases, like that of Le Baron, will doubtless some day render
inestimable service to this kind of study, but it leaves much still
to be desired at the present moment, from the point of view of its
practical utilization in the case of subjects not in their right mind,
who are not easily manageable, and who will not remain quiet long
enough while uttering their unusual words to allow the instrument to be
adjusted and made ready.
There are different species of glossolalia. Simple, incoherent
utterances, in a state of ecstasy, interspersed with emotional
exclamations, which are sometimes produced in certain surcharged
religious environments, is another matter altogether from the creation
of neologisms, which are met with in the dream, in somnambulism,
mental alienation, or in children. At the same time this fabrication of
arbitrary words raises other problems—as, for example, the occasional
use of foreign idioms unknown to the subject (at least, apparently),
but which really exist. In each of these cases it is necessary to
examine further whether, and in what measure, the individual attributes
a fixed meaning to the sounds which he utters, whether he understands
(or has, at least, the impression of understanding) his own words,
or whether it is only a question of a mechanical and meaningless
derangement of the phonetic apparatus, or, again, whether this jargon,
unintelligible to the ordinary personality, expresses the ideas of
some secondary personality. All these forms, moreover, vary in shades
and degrees, and there are, in addition, those mixed cases, possibly
the more frequent, where all the forms are mingled and combined. The
same individual, and sometimes in the course of the same spasm, also
exhibits a series of neologisms, comprehended or uncomprehended, giving
way to a simple, incoherent verbiage in common language, or vice versa,
etc.
A good description and rational classification of all these categories
and varieties of glossolalia would be of very great interest. I cannot
think of attempting such a study here, having enough already to fully
occupy my attention, by reason of having involved myself with the
Martian of Mlle. Smith. This somnambulistic language does not consist,
as we have already discovered, either in speaking ecstatically or in
religious enthusiasm, nor yet in the use of a foreign language which
really exists; it represents rather neologism carried to its highest
expression and practised in a systematic fashion, with a very precise
signification, by a secondary personality unknown to the normal self.
It is a typical case of “glosso-poesy,” of complete fabrication of all
the parts of a new language by a subconscious activity. I have many
times regretted that those who have witnessed analogous phenomena—as,
for example, Kerner, with the _Seeress of Prevost_—have not gathered
together and published in their entirety all the products of this
singular method of performing their functions on the part of the
verbal faculties. Undoubtedly each case taken by itself seems a simple
anomaly, a pure arbitrary curiosity, and without any bearing; but who
knows whether the collection of a large number of these psychological
bibelots, as yet few enough in their total, would not end in some
unexpected light? Exceptional facts are often the most instructive.
In order to avoid falling into the same errors of negligence, not
knowing where to stop, in case I wished to make a choice, I have taken
the course of setting forth here in full all the Martian texts which
we have been able to gather. I will have them follow a paragraph
containing certain remarks which that unknown language has suggested
to me; but, very far from flattering myself that I have exhausted the
subject, I earnestly hope that it will find readers more competent
than myself to correct and complete my observations, since I must
acknowledge that as a linguist and philologist I am very much like
an ass playing the flute. It is expedient, in beginning, to give
some further details regarding the various psychological methods of
manifestation of that unknown tongue.
I. VERBAL MARTIAN AUTOMATISMS
I have described in the preceding chapter, and will not now return
to it, the birth of the Martian language, indissolubly bound up with
that of the romance itself, from the 2d of February, 1896, up to the
inauguration of the process of translation by the entrance of Esenale
upon the scene on the 2d of November following (see pp. 154-165).
During several months thereafter the Martian language is confined to
the two psychological forms of apparition in which it seems to have
been clothed during the course of that first year.
First: _Verbo-auditive_ automatism, hallucinations of hearing,
accompanying visions in the waking state. In the case of spontaneous
visions, Hélène notes in pencil, either during the vision itself or
immediately afterwards, the unintelligible sounds which strike her ear;
but to her great regret many of them escape her, since she is sometimes
only able to gather the first or the last phrase of the sentences which
her imaginary personages address to her, or scattered fragments of
conversations which she holds with herself; these fragments themselves
often contain inaccuracies, which are ultimately rectified at the
moment of translation, Esenale having the good habit of articulating
very clearly each Martian word before giving its French equivalent.
In the case of the visions which she has at the seances, Hélène slowly
repeats the words she hears without understanding them, and the sitters
make note of them more or less correctly.
Secondly: _Vocal_ automatism (“verbo-motor hallucinations of
articulation,” in the cumbersome official terminology). Here again it
is the sitters who gather as much as they can of the strange words
pronounced in a state of trance, but that is very little, since Hélène,
in her Martian state, often speaks with a tremendous volubility.
Moreover, a distinction must be made between the relatively clear and
brief phrases which are later translated by Esenale, and the rapid and
confused gibberish the signification of which can never be obtained,
probably because it really has none, but is only a pseudo-language (see
pp. 154-159).
A new process of communication, the handwriting, made its appearance in
August, 1897, with a delay of perhaps eighteen months as to the speech
(the reverse of Leopold’s case, who wrote a long time before speaking).
It is produced, also, under two forms, which constitute a pendant to
the two cases given above, and also complete the standard quartette of
the psychological modalities of language.
Thirdly: _Verbo-visual_ automatism—that is, apparitions of exotic
characters before Hélène’s eyes when awake, who copies them as
faithfully as possible in a drawing, without knowing the meaning of the
mysterious hieroglyphics.
Fourthly: _Graphic_ automatism—_i.e._, writing traced by the hand of
Hélène while completely entranced and incarnating a Martian personage.
In this case the characters are generally smaller, more regular, better
formed than in the drawings of the preceding case. A certain number of
occasions, when the name has been pronounced by Hélène before being
written, and especially the articulation of Esenale at the moment of
translation, have permitted the relations between her vocal sounds and
the graphic signs of the Martian language to be established.
It is to be noted that these four automatic manifestations do not
inflict an equal injury upon the normal personality of Mlle. Smith.
As a rule, the verbo-auditive and verbo-visual hallucinations only
suppress her consciousness of present reality; they leave her a freedom
of mind which, if not complete, is at least sufficient to permit her to
observe in a reflective manner these sensorial automatisms, to engrave
them on her memory, and to describe them or make a copy of them, while
she often adds remarks testifying to a certain critical sense. On the
contrary, the verbo-motor hallucinations of articulation or of writing
seem to be incompatible with her preservation of the waking state, and
are followed by amnesia. Hélène is always totally absent or entranced
while her hand writes mechanically, and if, as seldom happens, she
speaks Martian automatically, outside of the moments of complete
incarnation, she is not aware of it, and does not recollect it. This
incapacity of the normal personality of Mlle. Smith to observe at the
time or remember afterwards her verbo-motor automatisms denotes a more
profound perturbation than that she experiences during her sensory
automatisms.
The Martian handwriting only appeared at the end of a prolonged period
of incubation, which betrayed itself in several incidents, and was
certainly stimulated by various exterior suggestions during a year
and a half at least. The following are the principal dates of this
development.
February 16, 1896.—The idea of a special handwriting belonging to the
planet Mars occurs for the first time to Hélène’s astonishment in a
Martian semi-trance (see p. 161).
November 2.—Handwriting is clearly predicted in the phrase, “Astané
will teach me to write,” uttered by Hélène in a Martian trance, after
the scene of the translation by Esenale (see p. 166).
November 8.—After the translation of text No. 3, Leopold, being
questioned, replies that Astané will write this text for Mlle. Smith,
but the prediction is not fulfilled.
May 23, 1897.—The announcement of Martian handwriting becomes more
precise. “Presently,” says Astané to Hélène, “thou wilt be able
to trace our handwriting, and thou wilt possess in thy hands the
characters of our language” (text 12).
June 20.—At the beginning of a seance, a Martian vision, she demands
of an imaginary interlocutor “a large ring which comes to a point, and
with which one can write.” This description applies to M. R., who has
with him some small pocket-pens of this kind, capable of being adjusted
to the end of the index-finger.
June 23.—I hand Hélène the two small pocket-pens which M. R. has
brought for her, but they do not please her. After trying to use one,
she throws it away and takes up a pencil, saying that if she must write
Martian, the ordinary means will suffice as well as those peculiar
pocket-pens. In about a minute she falls asleep, and her hand begins
automatically to trace a message in Leopold’s handwriting. I then
ask that individual whether the pocket-pens of M. R. do not meet the
exigencies of Martian, and whether Mlle. Smith will some day write
that language, as has already been announced. Hélène’s hand thereupon
responds in the beautiful calligraphy of Leopold: “I have not yet seen
the instrument which the inhabitants of the planet Mars use in writing
their language, but I can and do affirm that the thing will happen, as
has been announced to you.—LEOPOLD.”
June 27.—In the scene of the translation of text 15, Hélène adds to her
usual refrain, “Esenale has gone away; he will soon return; _he will
soon write_.”
August 3.—Between four and five o’clock in the afternoon Hélène had
a vision at her desk, lasting ten or fifteen minutes, of a broad,
horizontal bar, flame-colored, then changing to brick-red, and which
by degrees became rose-tinted, on which were a multitude of strange
characters, which she supposes to be the Martian letters of the
alphabet, on account of the color. These characters floated in space
before and round about her. Analogous visions occur in the course of
the weeks immediately following.
August 22.—Hélène for the first time writes in Martian. After various
non-Martian visions Mlle. Smith turns away from the window (it rained
hard, and the sky was very gray) and exclaims, “Oh, look, it is all
red! Is it already time to go to bed? M. Lemaître, are you there? Do
you see how red it is? I see Astané, who is there, in that red; I only
see his head and the ends of his fingers; he has no robe; and here
is the other (Esenale) with him. They both have some letters at the
ends of their fingers on a bit of paper. Quick, give me some paper!”
A blank sheet and the pocket-pen are handed to her, which latter she
disdainfully throws down. She accepts an ordinary pencil, which she
holds in her customary fashion, between her middle and index-finger,
then writes from left to right the three first lines of Fig. 21,
looking attentively towards the window at her fictitious model before
tracing each letter, and adding certain oral notes, according to which
there are some words which she sees written in black characters on
the three papers—or, more correctly, on three white wands, a sort of
narrow cylinder, somewhat flattened out—which Astané, Esenale, and a
third personage whose name she does not know but whose description
corresponds with that of Pouzé, hold in their right hands. After which
she again sees another paper or cylinder, which Astané holds above his
head, and which bears also some words which she undertakes to copy (the
three last lines of Fig. 21, p. 205). “Oh, it is a pity,” says she, on
coming to the end of the fourth line, “it is all on one line, and I
have no more room.” She then writes underneath the three letters of
line 5, and without saying anything adds line 6. Then she resumes: “How
dark it is with you ... the sun has entirely gone down” (it still rains
very hard). “No one more! nothing more!” She remains in contemplation
before that which she has written, then sees Astané again near the
table, who again shows her a paper, the same, she thinks, as the former
one. “But no, it is not altogether the same; there is one mistake, it
is there [she points to the fourth line towards the end] ... Ah, I
do not see more!” Then, presently she adds: “He showed me something
else; there was a mistake, but I was not able to see it. It is very
difficult. While I was writing, it was not I myself, I could not feel
my arms. It was difficult, because when I raised my head I no longer
saw the letters well. It was like a Greek design.”
At this moment Hélène recovered from the state of obscuration, from
which she emerged with difficulty, which had accompanied the Martian
vision and the automatic copy of the verbo-visual text. But a little
later in the evening she only vaguely remembered having seen strange
letters, and was altogether ignorant of having written anything.
The very natural supposition that the three first words written were
the names of the known personages (Astané, Esenale, Pouzé), who bore
them on their wands, led to the discovery of the meaning of many of the
Martian characters and permitted the divining of the sense of the three
last words.
[Illustration: Fig. 21. Text No. 16; seance of August 22, 1897.—First
Martian text written by Mlle. Smith (according to a visual
hallucination). Natural size. [Collection of M. Lemaître.]—Herewith
its French notation.
astane
esenale
pouze
mene simand
ini.
mira.
]
The new alphabet was enriched by certain other signs on the following
days, thanks to the echos of that seance in the ordinary life of
Hélène, who happened on several occasions to write not the true Martian
as yet, but French in Martian letters, to her great stupefaction when
she found herself after a while in the presence of these unknown
hieroglyphics.
[Illustration: Fig. 22. Examples of isolated French words
(_française_, _lumière_, _prairie_) automatically traced in Martian
characters by Mlle. Smith in her normal handwriting. See also Fig. 1,
p. 56.]
The first manifestation of that graphic automatism, being as yet
concerned only with the form of the letters and not the vocabulary,
dates from the day after the following seance:
August 23.—“Here,” wrote Hélène to me at noon, sending me some
memoranda from which I have taken the three examples of Fig. 22—“here
are some labels which I made it my business to make this morning at ten
o’clock, and which I have not been able to finish in a satisfactory
manner. I have only just now emerged from the rose-colored fog in which
I have been continuously enwrapped for almost two hours.”
Three weeks later a complete automatic Martian handwriting was produced
in a seance at my house, of which the following is a summary.
September 12, 1897.—At the end of a quite long Martian vision, Mlle.
Smith sees Astané, who has something at the end of his finger and
who signs to her to write. I offer her a pencil, and after various
tergiversations she slowly begins to trace some Martian characters
(Fig. 23). Astané has possession of her arm, and she is, during this
time, altogether anæsthetic and absent. Leopold, on the contrary, is at
hand, and gives various indications of his presence. At the end of the
sixth line she seems to half awaken, and murmurs, “I am not afraid; no,
I am not afraid.” Then she again falls into a dream in order to write
the four last words (which signify “_Then do not fear_,” and which are
the response of Astané to her exclamation).
Almost immediately Leopold substitutes himself for Astané and traces
on the same sheet, in his characteristic handwriting (considerably
distorted towards the end): “_Place thy hand on her forehead_,” by
means of which he indicates to me that the time has arrived to pass on
to the scene of translation by Esenale.
[Illustration: Fig. 23. Martian text No. 17; seance of September 12,
1897. Written by Mlle. Smith incarnating Astané (then Leopold for the
French words at the end). See the translation, p. 222. Too many _l_’s
at the end of the first line immediately produced the scrawls intended
to strike them out. (Reproduction one-half natural size.)]
[Illustration: Fig. 24. Martian alphabet, summary of the signs
obtained. (Never has been given as such by Mlle. Smith.)]
We may conclude from these successive stages that the Martian
handwriting is the result of a slow autosuggestion, in which the
idea of a special writing instrument, and its handling, for a long
time played the dominant rôle, then was abandoned, without doubt, as
impracticable to realize. The characters themselves then haunted for
several weeks Hélène’s visual imagination before they appeared to her
on the cylinders of the three Martians in a manner sufficiently clear
and stable to enable her to copy them and afterwards to be capable of
subduing her graphomotor mechanism. Once manifested outwardly, these
signs, which I have assembled under the form of an alphabet in Fig. 24,
have not varied for two years.
Moreover, some trifling confusion, of which I shall speak a little
later, shows well that the personality which employs them is not
absolutely separated from that of Hélène, although the latter, in a
waking state, might hold the same relation to Martian which she holds
to Chinese—that is, she knows its general very characteristic aspect,
but is ignorant of the signification of the characters, and would be
incapable of reading it.
Hélène’s Martian handwriting is not stereotyped, but presents,
according to circumstances, some variations in form, especially in the
size of the letters.
This may be established by Figs. 21 to 32, in which I have reproduced
the greater part of the texts obtained by writing. When the Martian
gushes forth in verbo-visual hallucinations, Hélène transcribes it in
strokes of large dimensions, lacking firmness, full of repetitions
(Figs. 21, 26, 31), and she always remarks that the original, which
is before her eyes, is much smaller and clearer than her copy. In the
texts which have come automatically from her hand—_i.e._, supposedly
traced by the Martians themselves—the handwriting is really smaller and
more precise. Here again are some curious differences. Astané has a
calligraphy less voluminous than that of Esenale, and Ramié has a much
finer one than Esenale (Figs. 28 and 29).
It would be altogether premature for me to launch myself upon the
study of Martian graphology, and, therefore, leaving that line to my
successors, I take up the texts which have been collected in their
chronological order.
II. THE MARTIAN TEXTS
It is not always easy to represent a language and its pronunciation by
means of the typographical characters of another. Happily the Martian,
in spite of its strange appearance and the fifty millions of leagues
which separate us from the red planet, is in reality so near neighbor
to French that there is scarcely any difficulty in this case.
The dozen written texts[19] which we possess, and which Mlle. Smith
either copied from a verbo-visual hallucination, or which were
traced by her hand in an access of graphomotor automatism, are
readily translated into French, since each Martian letter has its
exact equivalent in the French alphabet. I have confined myself
to placing accents on the vowels (there are none in the Martian
writing), conformably to the pronunciation of Esenale at the moment of
translation. It is only necessary to read the following texts aloud,
articulating them as though they were French, in order to secure the
Martian words almost exactly as they proceed from the mouth of Mlle.
Smith; I say _almost_, because there still remains, naturally, in
the speech of Esenale, as in that of every one, a special mannerism
of strengthening certain syllables and slurring others—in short,
that of delicate shades of accentuation, which cannot be adequately
represented, and which the hearers did not attempt to take note of at
the seances.
In the auditive or vocal texts, those which have not been obtained by
writing, I have adopted the more probable orthography, according to the
pronunciation of Esenale, but (with the exception of words known by
means of the written texts) I naturally cannot guarantee their absolute
correctness.
The manner in which Hélène takes down in pencil the Martian phrases
which strike her ear is not of great assistance to us in that respect,
because, as I have said above (p. 158), she finds herself at the time
of these verbo-auditive hallucinations in the situation of a person who
hears some unknown words, and spells them as well as she is able, after
a quite arbitrary and often faulty fashion. She writes, for example,
“=hezi darri né ciké taisse=,” which, according to the pronunciation
of Esenale and other written texts, should be “=êzi darié siké tés=”;
or, again, “=misse messe as si lé=,” instead of “=mis mess ass ilé=.”
We cannot, therefore, depend upon the orthography of Hélène, but I have
naturally followed it in every case in which there seemed to be no good
reason to depart from it. In stating that the following texts should be
articulated like French, two remarks must be added: First, the final
consonant, very rare in Martian, is always aspirated; the word =ten=
is pronounced as in the French _gluten_; =essat=, like _fat_; =amès=,
like _aloes_; =mis= and =mess=, like _lis_ (flower), and mess (of an
officer), etc. In the second place, for the different values of the _e_
I have adopted the following rule: the _e_ broad is always indicated
by the accent grave _è_; the _e_ medium, which is only found at the
beginning and in the middle of a word, is marked with the acute accent
_é_; the _e_ short, by the acute accent at the end of a word (or before
a final _e_ mute), and by the circumflex at the beginning or in the
middle; the _e_ mute, or demi-mute, remains without accent.
The pronunciation, therefore, will be, for example, the _e_’s of the
Martian words =mété=, =bénézee=, like those of the French words _été_,
_répétée_; =êvé=, like _rêvé_, =tès=, as in _Lutèce_, etc.
There will be found in italics, underneath the Martian texts, their
French equivalents, word for word, as given by Esenale in the manner
described above (see pp. 166-168).[20] I have also indicated the kind
of automatism—auditive, visual, vocal, or graphic—by means of which
each text was obtained, also the date of its appearance, and (in
parentheses) that of the seance, often quite remote, at which it was
translated. I have also added such explanations as seemed to me to be
necessary.
1. =métiche C.= =médache C.= =métaganiche S.= =kin’t’che=
_Monsieur C._ _Madame C._ _Mademoiselle S._ _quatre_.
Mr. C. Mrs. C. Miss C. Four.
Vocal. February 2, 1896. See above, p. 157.
2. =dodé né ci haudan té mess métiche astané ké dé=
_Ceci est la maison du grand homme Astané que tu_
=mé véche.=
_as vu._
This is the house of the great man Astané, whom thou hast seen.
Auditive. About September 20, 1896 (translated November 2).—Heard by
Hélène at the same time at which she had the vision of Fig. 12 (see p.
166).
3. =modé iné cé di cévouitche ni êvé ché kiné liné=
_Mère adorée, je te reconnais et suis ton petit Linet._
Adored mother, I recognize thee, and am thy little Linet.
Words addressed to Mme. Mirbel by her son Alexis (Esenale) in a scene
of incarnation altogether analogous to that described on p. 156.
4. =i modé mété modé modé iné palette is=
_O mère, tendre mère, mère bien-aimée, calme tout_
=ché péliché ché chiré né ci ten ti vi=
_ton souci, ton fils est près de toi._
Oh, mother, tender mother, dearly loved mother, calm all thy care, thy
son is near thee.
Vocal. November 29, 1896 (translated same seance).—Spoken by Esenale
and addressed to Mme. Mirbel, in a scene of incarnation analogous to
the preceding. At the moment of translation, Esenale repeated, very
distinctly, the last words, as follows: “=né ci=, _est près_ [“is
near”], =ten ti vi=, _de toi_ (“thee”).” This was evidently an error,
since it appears from numerous later texts that _est près de toi_
corresponds to =né ten ti vi=; it follows that it would be natural
to translate the word =ci= by _là_, _ici_, or _tout_, if these words
had not been differently rendered in other texts. (A confusion of the
adverb _là_ with the article _la_, translated by =ci= in text 2, might
also be suspected.)
5. =i kiché ten ti si ké di êvé dé étéche mêné=
_Oh! pourquoi près de moi ne te tiens-tu toujours, amie_
=izé bénézée=
_enfin retrouvée!_
Oh! Why dost thou not keep thyself always near me, friend, at last
found again?
Auditive. December 4, 1896 (translated December 13). Fragment of a long
discourse by Astané to Hélène, during an apparition which she had of
him about nine o’clock in the evening, as she was about to go to bed.
This sentence, which he uttered twice, is the only one which she has
been able to recall with sufficient precision to note down immediately
after the vision. She has the feeling of having understood Astané’s
whole discourse while he was delivering it, and thinks she would have
been able to translate it into French, perhaps not word for word, but
in its general sense. She expected to transcribe it the following day,
but in the morning when she awoke she was unable to recall either the
words of Astané or their meaning, not even that of this sentence,
written on the previous evening. Heard again, as the second part of the
following text, in the seance of the 13th of December.
6. =ti iche cêné éspênié ni ti êzi atèv astané êzi=
_De notre belle “Espénié” et de mon être Astané, mon_
=érié vizé é vi... i kiché ten ti si ké di êvé=
_âme descend à toi... oh! pourquoi près de moi ne te tiens-tu_
=dé étéche mêné izé bénézée=
_toujours, amie enfin retrouvée!_
From our beautiful “Espénié” and from my being Astané, my soul
descends to thee—Oh! why dost thou not keep thyself always near to me,
friend, at last found again?
Auditive. December 13, 1896 (translated same seance).—Heard in the
far-away voice of Astané, Hélène having all the while a painful
sensation, as though the skin of her face around her eyes, on the
back of her wrists and hands, was being torn off. In the translation
the word _Espénié_ remains as it is, being a proper name; the left
index-finger (Leopold) points heavenward, and says that it might be
rendered by _terre_, _planète_, _demeure_.
7. =cé êvé plêva ti di bénèz éssat riz tès midée=
_Je suis chagrin de te retrouver vivant sur cette laide_
=durée cé ténassé riz iche éspênié vétéche ié ché atèv hêné=
_terre; je voudrais sur notre Espénié voir tout ton être s’élever_
=ni pové ten ti si éni zée métiché oné gudé ni zée darié=
_et rester près de moi; ici les hommes sont bons et les cœurs_
=grêvé=
_larges._
I am sorry to find you again living on this wretched earth; I would on
our Espénié see all thy being raise itself and remain near me; here
men are good and hearts large.
Auditive. December 15, 1896 (translated January 17, 1897).—Words spoken
by Astané to Hélène in a morning vision. The following fragment of the
letter in which she sent me this text merits being cited as an example
of those quite frequent cases in which Mlle. Smith, without knowing
the exact translation of the foreign words, nevertheless divines
their general signification and comprehends them by their emotional
equivalent. “This morning, at a quarter before six, I saw Astané at the
foot of my bed. The general sense of his language was at that moment
quite clear to my mind, and I give it to you as I understood it—that
is, in as clear a manner as possible, having noted it down afterwards:
‘How much I regret your not having been born in our world; you would be
much happier there, since everything is much better with us, people as
well as things, and I would be so happy to have you near me.’ That is
about what it seemed to me to mean; perhaps some day we may be able to
be sure of it.”
8. =amès mis tensée ladé si—amès ten tivé avé=
_Viens un instant vers moi, viens près d’un vieil_
=men—koumé ié ché pélésse—amès somé têsé=
_ami fondre tout ton chagrin: viens admirer ces_
=misaïmé—ké dé surès pit châmi—izâ méta ii=
_fleurs, que tu crois sans parfum, mais pourtant si_
=borêsé ti finaïmé—iâ izi dé séïmiré=
_pleines de senteurs!... Mais si tu comprendras!_
Come towards me a moment, come near an old friend to melt away all
thy sorrow; come to admire these flowers, which you believe without
perfume, but yet so full of fragrance! But if thou couldst understand.
Auditive and vocal. January 31, 1897 (translated same seance).—Hélène,
in hemisomnambulism, sees Astané, who tells her to repeat his words;
she replies to him: “But speak plainly ... I will gladly repeat them
... but I do not understand very well....” Then she pronounces slowly
and very distinctly the foregoing text, in groups of words, separated
by a moment of silence (marked in the text by the sign—). It is
remarked that these groups, with the exception of the sixth, correspond
to the hemistiches of the French translation obtained in the same
seance. After the sixth group Hélène remains silent for a long time,
and finally says: “I cannot understand;” then utters the four last
words, which are the reply of Astané to her objection.
9. =ané éni ké éréduté cé ilassuné té imâ ni=
_C’est isi que, solitaire, ie m’approche du ciel et_
=bétiné chée durée=
_regarde ta terre._
It is here that, alone, I bring myself near to heaven and look upon
the earth.
Auditive. February 24, 1897 (translated March 14).—Reclining in her
easy-chair, after the noonday meal, Hélène hears this sentence, while
at the same time she has the vision of a house, constructed by digging
into a Martian mountain, and traversed by a sort of air-shafts, and
which represents Astané’s observatory.
10. =simandini lé lâmi mêné kizé pavi kiz atimi=
_Simandini, me voici! amie! quelle joie, quel bonheur!_
Simandini, here I am! friend! what joy! what happiness!
Auditive. March 14, 1897 (translated same seance).—See following text.
11. =i modé duméïné modé kêvi cé mache povini=
_O mère, ancienne mère, quand je peux arriver_
=poénêzé mûné é vi saliné éziné mimâ nikaïné modé=
_quelques instants vers toi j’oublie mes parents Nikaïné, mère!_
=—i men=
_—ô ami!_
Oh, mother, former mother, when I can arrive a few instants near thee,
I forget my parents Nikaïné, mother!—Oh friend!
Vocal. March 14, 1897 (translated same seance).—From the beginning of
this seance Hélène complained of cold hands, then a great desire to
weep, and of a buzzing in the ears, which kept increasing and in which
she finally heard Astané address to her the Martian words of text 10.
Immediately after she passes into full somnambulism; her respirations,
very short and panting, rise to three per second, accompanied by
synchronous movements of the left index-finger; then she stops suddenly
with a long expiration, immediately followed by a deep inspiration:
then her breast heaves, her face assumes an expression of suffering,
and the left index-finger announces that it is Esenale (Alexis Mirbel)
who is incarnated. After a series of spasms and hiccoughs, Hélène
arises, and, placing herself behind Mme. Mirbel, takes her neck in her
hands, bows her head upon hers, tenderly pats her cheek, and addresses
to her the words of text No. 11 (except the two last words). Then she
raises her head, and again, with panting respiration (accelerated to
thirty inspirations in sixteen seconds), walks towards M. Lemaître
(whose pupil Alexis Mirbel had been at the time of his death). She
places her hands upon his shoulders, affectionately grasps his right
hand, and with emotion and continued sobbing addresses to him the two
words =i men!= After which she goes through the pantomime of extending
her hand to Leopold and of allowing him to conduct her to a couch,
where the translation of texts Nos. 10, 11, and 9 is obtained by the
customary process, but not without difficulty.
12. =lassuné ké nipuné ani tis dé machir mirivé=
_Approche, ne crains pas; bientôt tu pourras tracer_
=iche manir sé dé évenir toué chi amiché zé forimé=
_notre écriture, et tu posséderas dans tes mains les marques_
=ti viche tarviné=
_de notre langage._
Approach, fear not; soon thou wilt be able to trace our writing, and
thou wilt possess in thy hands the signs of our language.
Auditive. May 23, 1897 (translated same seance).—Shortly after the
beginning of the seance, Hélène, still being awake, has a vision of
Astané, who addresses her in these words, which she repeats slowly and
in a feeble voice. I give the text as it was heard and uniformly noted
by several sitters, both at the moment of its utterance and at its
subsequent translation. Many corrections, however, would be necessary,
in order to make it correspond with the later written texts: =ké nipuné
ani=, _et ne crains pas_ (“and I am not afraid,” or, “and I do not
fear”) should be changed to =kié nipuné ani=, _ne crains pas_ (see text
17); =sé= or =cé= only stands here for _et_, which everywhere else is
given as =ni=; =viche= is used in error for =iche= (unless the =v= was
added for the sake of euphony, of which there is no other example) and
=tis= for =tiche=.
13. (adèl) =ané sini= (yestad) =i astané cé fimès astané mirâ=
_C’est vous, ô Astané, je meurs! Astané, adieu!_
It is you, oh Astané, I am dying! Astané, farewell!
Vocal. Same seance as the preceding text, after which Hélène passes
into full somnambulism, begins to weep, pants, holds her hand on her
heart, and pronounces this sentence, mingling with it the two words
_Adèl_ and _yestad_, which are not Martian, but belong to the Oriental
cycle; they also do not appear in the text as it was repeated at
the time of its translation. This intrusion of terms foreign to the
Martian dream is explained by the imminence of a Hindoo scene ready to
appear, which occupied the latter half of the seance in which the Arab
servant, Adèl, plays a leading rôle. The mingling of the two romances
is greatly accentuated a few moments later, in a long discourse,
devoid of _r_’s and very rich in sibilants, and spoken with so great
volubility that it was impossible to gather a single word. At the
time of the translation, at the close of the seance, this tirade was
repeated with the same rapidity, preventing any notation; according to
the French translation which followed, it concerned memories of the
life of Simandini which Hélène recalled to Astané and in which there is
much mention of the aforesaid Adèl (see Hindoo Cycle, Chap. VII.).
14. =eupié zé palir né amé arvâ nini pédriné évaï=
_Eupié, le temps est venu; Arva nous quitte; sois_
=diviné lâmée ine vinâ té luné—pouzé men hantiné=
_heureux jusque au retour du jour.—Pouzé, ami fidèle_,
=êzi vraïni né touzé med vi ni ché chiré saïné—ké=
_mon désir est même pour toi et ton fils Saïné.—Que_
=zalisé téassé mianiné ni di daziné—eupié—pouzé=
_l’élément entier t’enveloppe et te garde!—Eupié!—Pouzé!_
Eupié, the time has come; Arva leaves us; be happy till the return
of the day. Pouzé, faithful friend, my wish is even for thee,
and thy son Saïné.—May the entire element envelop thee and guard
thee!—Eupié!—Pouzé!
Auditive. June 18, 1897 (translated June 20).—During a visit I made to
Mlle. Smith she has a vision of two Martian personages walking on the
shore of a lake, and she repeats this fragment of their conversation
which she has heard. According to another text (No. 20), Arva is the
Martian name of the sun.
15. =modé tatinée cé ké mache radziré zé tarvini va=
_Mère chérie, je ne puis prononcer le langage où_
=nini nini triménêni ii adzi cé zé seïmiré vétiche i=
_nous nous comprenions si bien! Je le comprends cependant; ô_
=modé inée kévi bérimir m hed kévi machiri cé di triné=
_mère adorée, quand reviendra-t-il? Quand pourrai-je te parler_
=ti éstotiné ni bazée animina i modé cé méï adzi=
_de ma dernière et courte existence? O mére, je t’ai bien_
=ilinée i modé inée cé ké lé nazère ani—mirâ=
_reconnue, ô mère adorée, je ne me trompe pas!—Adieu_
=modé itatinée mirâ mirâ mirâ=
_mère chérie, adieu, adieu, adieu!_
My dearest, I cannot pronounce the language in which we understood
each other so well! I understand it, however; oh! adored mother, when
will it return? When shall I be able to speak to thee of my last
and short existence? Oh! mother, I have well recognized thee, oh!
adored mother, I am not mistaken!—Farewell, dearest mother, farewell,
farewell, farewell!
Auditive. June 27, 1897 (translated same seance).—Mme. Mirbel being
present, Hélène perceives Esenale, who remains in the vicinity of his
mother and addresses these words to her. The “adieux” at the close
were not spoken at that time, but were uttered by Esenale immediately
following and as a complement of the translation; this is the only
case (outside of text 36) in which he did not confine himself strictly
to the texts already gathered and in which he permitted himself to
introduce a new phrase, which otherwise does not contain a single
unknown word; =itatinée=, _chérie_, is evidently a slip which should
be corrected either to =tatinée=, _chérie_, or to =it atinée=, _ô
chérie_. The precise French equivalent of =triménêni= is probably
_entretenions_.
*16. =astané ésenâle pouzé mêné simandini mirâ=
(_Astané. Esenale. Pouzé. Amie Simandini, adieu!_)
Astané. Esenale. Pouzeé. Friend Simandini, farewell!
Visual. August 22, 1897.—This text, for which there is no need of
a translation, constitutes the first appearance of the Martian
handwriting. See above, Fig. 21, and the résumé of that seance, pp.
203-205.
*17. =taniré mis méch med mirivé éziné brimaξ ti tès=
_Prends un crayon pour tracer mes paroles de cet_
=tensée—azini dé améir mazi si somé iche nazina=
_instant. Alors tu viendras avec moi admirer notre nouveau_
=tranéï.—Simandini cé kié mache di pédriné tès luné ké cé=
_passage. Simandini, je ne puis te quitter ce jour. Que je_
=êvé diviné—patrinèz kié nipuné ani=
_suis heureux!—Alors ne crains pas!_
Take a pencil to trace my words of this moment. Then thou wilt come
with me to admire our new passage. Simandini, I cannot leave thee this
day. How happy I am!—Then fear not!
Graphic. September 12, 1897 (translated same seance).—See p. 207 and
Fig. 23.
*18. =modé tatinée lâmi mis mirâ ti ché bigâ kâ=
_Mère chérie, voici un adieu de ton enfant qui_
=ébrinié sanâ é vi idé di zé rénir—zé mess métich kâ é=
_pense tant à toi. On te le portera, le grand homme qui a_
=zé valini iminé—ni z [é] grani sidiné=
_le visage mince et le corps maigre._
My dearest, this is a farewell from thy child, who thinks so much of
thee. The big man, who has a thin face and a slender body, will bear
it to thee.
[Illustration: Fig. 25. Text No. 18 (October 10, 1897), written in
pencil by Mlle. Smith, incarnating Esenale. Reproduction in autotype
two-thirds of the natural size.]
[Illustration: Fig. 26. Text No. 26 (August 21, 1898), which appeared
in visual hallucination, and was copied by Mlle. Smith. Reproductions
in autotype.]
Auditive, then Graphic. October 10, 1897 (translated same
seance).—Hélène has a vision of a Martian landscape, in which Esenale
floats discarnate around the plants and speaks these words, which she
repeats. (It is understood from the translation that this text was
intended for Mme. Mirbel, who was then in the country, but to whom
the person very clearly indicated by the final characteristic was
about to pay a visit and could carry the message.) I then offer Hélène
a pencil in the hope of obtaining this same text in writing; after
various tergiversations and grimaces, denoting a state of increasing
somnambulism, she finally takes the pencil between her index and middle
fingers, tells Esenale that she still sees him and makes him sit down
by her side, and then begins to write, completely absent and fascinated
by the paper. The left index-finger (Leopold) informs us that it is
Esenale himself who is writing by means of Hélène’s arm. Twice she
interrupts herself in order to say to Esenale, “Oh! do not go yet, stay
a little while longer!” She appears nervous and agitated, and often
stops writing to stab her paper with her pencil or to make erasures
or scribble on it (see Fig. 25); in the =zé= of the last line, she
forgets the =é= (this did not prevent Esenale from pronouncing the word
correctly at the time of its translation).
[Illustration: Fig. 25. Text No. 18 (October 10, 1897), written in
pencil by Mlle. Smith, incarnating Esenale. Reproduction in autotype
two-thirds of the natural size.]
[Illustration: Fig. 26. Text No. 26 (August 21, 1898), which appeared
in visual hallucination, and was copied by Mlle. Smith. Reproductions
in autotype.]
*19. =m[en] cé kié mache di triné sandiné téri=
(_Amie, je ne puis te parler longtemps comme_
=né êzi vraïni zou réch mirâ milé piri mirâ=
_est mon désir; plus tard, adieu adieu._)
(Friend, I cannot speak to thee a long time, as is my desire; later,
farewell, farewell!)
Graphic, then Auditive. October 24, 1897 (there has never been any
translation of this text, two words of which are still unknown).—Hélène
first sees the table illumined by a green light in which some designs
appear which she copies, and which give this text, except the two
last letters of the first word, the place of which remains blank.
Immediately after she hears Martian spoken, which she repeats. It is
the same text; then she has a vision of Astané, Esenale, and a little
girl whose name she hears as Niké; but this soon gives way to other
non-Martian somnambulisms. (See Fig. 25.)
*20. =Siké évaï diviné zé niké crizi capri né amé=
_Siké, sois heureux! Le petit oiseau noir est venu_
=orié antéch é êzé carimi ni êzi érié é nié pavinée hed=
_frapper hier à ma fenêtre, et mon âme a été joyeuse; il_
=lé sadri dé zé véchir tiziné Matêmi misaïmé kâ lé=
_me chanta: tu le verras demain.—Matêmi, fleur qui me_
=amèz essaté Arvâ ti éziné udâniξξ amès tès uri amès=
_fais vivre, soleil de mes songes, viens ce soir, viens_
=sandiné ten ti si évaï divinée Romé va né Siké=
_longtemps près de moi; sois heureuse!—Romé où est Siké?—Là-bas,_
=atrizi ten té taméch épizi=
_près du “taméche” rose._
Siké, be happy! The little black bird came yesterday rapping at my
window, and my soul was joyful; he sang to me: Thou wilt see him
to-morrow. Matêmi, flower which makes me live, sun of my dreams, come
this evening; come for a long time to me; be happy!—Romé, where is
Siké?—Yonder, near the “taméche” rose.
Auditive, then Graphic. November 28, 1897 (translated same
seance).—Fragments of conversation heard during the vision of the
Martian _fête_ described on p. 185. Siké (a young man) and Matêmi (a
young girl) form the first couple who pass by and walk off in the
direction of a large bush with red flowers (=taméche=); then a second
couple exchange the last words of the text while going to rejoin the
first. After this vision, which she contemplated standing and described
with much animation, Hélène seated herself and began to write the same
Martian phrases. It is ascertained from Leopold that it was Astané
who held her hand (in holding the pencil between the thumb and the
index-finger—that is, after the manner of Leopold and not that of
Hélène as she had held it in writing text No. 17). The writing being
finished, Leopold directs that Hélène shall be made to seat herself on
the couch for the scene of translation.
21. =véchêsi têsée polluni avé métiche é vi ti=
_Voyons cette question, vieux homme; à toi de_
=bounié seïmiré ni triné=
_chercher, comprendre et parler._
Now this question, old man; it is for thee to seek, to understand and
speak.
Auditive. January 15, 1898 (translated February 13).—Fragment of
conversation between two Martian personages seen in a waking vision.
22. =astané cé amès é vi chée brimi messé téri=
_Astané, je viens à toi; ta sagesse grande comme_
=ché pocrimé lé...=
_ton savoir me..._
Astané, I come to thee; thy great wisdom as well as thy knowledge to
me....
Auditive. About January 25, 1898 (translated February 13).—Vision,
at six o’clock in the morning, of a young Martian girl (Matêmi?)
traversing a tunnel through a mountain and arriving at the house of
Astané, to whom she addresses this utterance, followed by many others
which Hélène could not grasp with sufficient distinctness to note them
down.
23. [A] =paniné évaï kirimé zé miza ami grini=
_Panine, sois prudent, le “miza” va soulever;_
=ké chée éméche rès pazé—=[B] =pouzé tès luné soumini=
_que ta main se retire!—Pouzé, ce jour riant..._
=arvâ ii cen zé primi ti ché chiré kiz pavi luné—=
_Arva si beau... le revoir de ton fils... quel heureux jour—_
[C] =saïné êzi chiré izé lineï kizé pavi êzi mané=
_Saïné, mon fils, enfin debout! quelle joie!... Mon père_
=ni êzé modé tiziné êzi chiré êzi mané cé êvé adi=
_et ma mère... Demain, mon fils... Mon père, je suis bien_
=anâ=
_maintenant._
Paniné, be prudent, the “miza” is about to arise; remove thy hand!
Pouzé, this laughing day ... Arva so beautiful ... The return of thy
son ... What happy day—Saïné, my son, finally standing! What joy!...
My father and my mother ... To-morrow, my son ... My father, I am well
now.
Auditive. February 20, 1898 (translated same seance).—Very complicated
Martian vision. First, three small, movable houses, like pavilions
or Chinese kiosks, going about on little balls; in one of these, two
unknown personages, one of whom puts her hand out of a small oval
window, which occasions, on the part of her companion, the observation
of the first sentence (A) of the text; at this instant, in fact, these
rolling pavilions (=miza=) assume an oscillatory movement, which makes
a noise like “tick-tack,” and then glide like a train upon rails. They
go around a high red mountain and come into a sort of magnificent gorge
or ravine, with slopes covered with extraordinary plants, and where
they find white houses on an iron framework resembling piles. The two
men then alight from their “=miza=,” chatting together, but Hélène can
only hear fragments (B) of their conversation. A young man of sixteen
to eighteen years of age comes to meet them, who has his head tied up
in a kind of nightcap, and having no hair on the left side. Martian
salutations are exchanged; they mutually strike their heads with their
hands, etc. Hélène complains of hearing very confusedly that which they
are saying, and can only repeat ends of sentences (C). She has pain
in her heart, and Leopold dictates to me by the left index-finger,
“_Put her to sleep_,” which presently leads to the customary scene of
translation of the text.
24. =saïné êzi chiré iée êzé pavi ché vinâ ine ruzzi=
_Saïné, mon fils, toute ma joie, ton retour au milieu_
=ti nini né mis mess assilé atimi... itéche...=
_de nous est un grand, immense bonheur... toujours..._
=furimir... nori=
_aimera... jamais._
Saïné, my son, all my joy; thy return to our circle is a great, an
immense happiness ... always will love ... ever.
Auditive. March 11, 1898 (translated August 21).—“Yesterday morning,
on jumping out of bed,” wrote Hélène to me, when sending me this text,
“I had a vision of Mars, almost the same as that which I had before
(at the seance of February 20). I saw again the rolling pavilions, the
houses on piling, several personages, among them a young man who had
no hair on one side of his head. I was able to note some words. It was
very confused, and the last words were caught on the wing, when here
and there something a little clear came to me....”
25. =dé véchi ké ti éfi mervé éni=
_Tu vois que de choses superbes ici._
Thou seest what superb things (are) here.
Auditive. August 21, 1898 (translated same seance).—Waking vision of a
river between two rose-colored mountains, with a bridge (like that in
Fig. 9) which lowered itself into the water and disappeared in order to
allow five or six boats to pass (like that in Fig. 13), then reappeared
and was restored to its place. As Hélène describes all this, she hears
a voice speaking to her the above Martian words of the text.
*26. =Astané né zé ten ti vi=
_Astané est là près de toi._
Astané is there, near to thee.
Visual. August 21, 1898 (translated same seance).—Following the
preceding scene: Hélène perceives “in the air” (illumined and red—that
of her Martian vision) some characters unknown to her, which she copies
(see Fig. 26). I ask her, showing her the word =zé= (which elsewhere
always stands for _le_), if she is not mistaken. She verifies it by
comparing it with the imaginary model before her and affirms it to be
correct.
27. =siké kiz crizi hantiné hed é ébrinié rès amêré é=
_Siké, quel oiseau fidèle! il a pensé se réunir à_
=nini éssaté ti iche atimi matêmi hantiné hed né=
_nous, vivre de notre bonheur!—Matêmi fidèle, il est_
=hantiné êzi darié siké tès ousti ké zé badêni lassuné=
_fidèle mon cœur!—Siké, ce bateau que le vent approche_
=mazi trimazi hed é ti zi mazêté é poviné é nini zé priâni=
_avec force! il a de la peine à arriver à nous; le flot_
=é fouminé ivraïni idé é ti zi mazêté é vizêné zé=
_est puissant aujourd’hui; on a de la peine à distinguer le_
=chodé=
_“chodé.”_
[Illustration: Fig. 27. Text No. 28 (October 8, 1898), written by
Mlle. Smith, copying a text of Matêmi, seen in a visual hallucination.
[The slight tremor of some of the lines is not in the original, but
occurred in the copying of the text in the ink, which was written in
pencil and
too pale for reproduction.]]
Siké, what (a) faithful bird! he has thought to reunite himself to us,
to live of our happiness!—Matêmi faithful, my heart is faithful!—Siké,
this boat which the wind brings near with force! it has some
difficulty in reaching us; the current is strong to-day; one has some
difficulty in distinguishing the “=chodé=.”
Auditive. About the 4th of September, 1898 (translated October
16).—Hélène heard and noted this phrase at the same time at which she
had the vision of the two young Martian people who were walking in a
kind of flower-garden, and saw a boat arrive, like that in Fig. 13. The
meaning of =chodé= has not been ascertained.
*28. =men mess Astané cé amès é vi itéch li tès=
_Ami grand Astané, je viens à toi toujours par cet_
=alizé néümi assilé kâ ianiné êzi atèv ni lé=
_élément mystérieux, immense, qui enveloppe mon étre et me_
=tazié é vi med iéeξ éziné rabriξ ni tibraξ. men amès di=
_lance à toi pour toutes mes pensées et besoins. Ami, viens te_
=ouradé ké Matêmi uzénir chée kida ni ké chée brizi pi=
_souvenir que Matêmi attendra ta faveur, et que ta sagesse lui_
=dézanir. évaï diviné tès luné=
_répondra. Sois heureux ce jour._
Friend great Astané, I come to thee always by this element,
mysterious, immense, which envelops my being and launches me to thee
by all my thoughts and desires. Friend, come thou to remember that
Matêmi will await thy favor, and that thy wisdom will answer him. Be
happy to-day.
Visual. October 3, 1898 (translated October 16).—At a quarter before
nine in the evening Mlle. Smith, desiring to obtain a communication
from Leopold for herself and her mother, sat down in an easy-chair and
gave herself up to meditation. Presently she hears the voice of Leopold
telling her that he cannot manifest himself that evening, but that
something much more interesting and important is being made ready. The
room seems to her to become completely obscured, except the end of the
table at which she is sitting, which is illumined with a golden light.
A young Martian girl in a yellow robe and with long tresses then comes
and seats herself beside her and begins to trace, without ink or paper,
but with a point on the end of her index-finger, black figures on a
white cylinder, at first placed on the table, afterwards on her knees,
and which is unrolled as she writes. Hélène is near enough to see the
characters clearly, and copies them in pencil on a sheet of paper (see
Fig. 27), after which the vision vanishes and her mother and the room
reappear.
29. =sazêni kiché nipunêzé dodé né pit léziré bèz=
_Sazeni pourquoi craindre? Ceci est sans souffrance ni_
=neura évaï dastrée firêzi zé bodri né dorimé zé=
_danger, sois paisible; certainement le os est sain, le_
=pastri tubré né tuxé=
_sang seul est malade._
Sazeni, why fear? This is without suffering or danger, be peaceful;
certainly the flesh is well, the blood alone is ill.
Auditive. October 14, 1898 (translated October 16).—Morning vision
of an unknown gentleman and lady, the latter having her arm, spotted
with red, applied to an instrument with three tubes placed on a shelf
fastened to the wall. These words were spoken by the man; the lady said
nothing.
30. =modé ké hed oné chandêné têsé mûné ten ti= _Mère, que ils sont
délicieux ces moments près de_
=vi bigâ va bindié idé ti zâmé tensée zou réche= _toi!—Enfant, où
trouve on de meilleurs instants? plus tard_
=med ché atèv kiz fouminé zati= _pour ton être quel puissant souvenir._
Mother, how delightful they are, these moments near to thee!—Child,
where finds one better moments? later for thy being what (a) powerful
remembrance.
Auditive. October 22, 1898 (translated December 18).—“At a quarter-past
six in the morning; vision of a pebbly shore; earth of a red tint;
immense sheet of water, of a bluish green. Two women are walking side
by side. This was all I could gather of their conversation.”
[Illustration: Fig. 28. Text No. 31 (October 27, 1898), written by
Mlle. Smith, incarnating Ramié. Natural size.]
*31. =Râmié bisti ti Espênié ché dimé ûni zi=
_Ramié habitant de Espénié, ton semblable par la_
=trimazi tié vadâzâξ di anizié banâ mirâξ Ramié di=
_force des “vadazas,” te envoie trois adieux. Ramié te_
=trinir tié toumaξ ti bé animinâ ni tiche di uzir nâmi=
_parlera des charmes de sa existence et bientôt te dira beaucoup_
=ti Espênié. évaï divinée=
_de Espénié. Sois heureuse!_
Ramié, dweller in Espénié, thy like, by the force of the “vadazas,”
sends thee three adieux. Ramié will speak to thee of the charms of his
existence, and presently will tell thee much of Espénié. Be happy!
Graphic. October 27, 1898 (translated December 18).—“Ten minutes to one
in the afternoon. No vision, but a severe cramp in the right arm and
a strong impulse to take pencil and paper. I write, I know not why.”
(It is seen by the translation given two months later that the text
refers to the first manifestation of Ramié and is an announcement of
the ultra-Martian vision which came a few days later.) See Fig. 28.
The term =vadazas=, which has never been explained, has not a Martian
appearance, and appears to have been borrowed from the Hindoo cycle. As
to _Espénié_, see text No. 6.
32. =anâ évaï maniké é bétiné mis tié attanâ=
_Maintenant sois attentive à regarder un des mondes_
=kâ di médinié bétinié tès tapié ni bée atèv kavivé=
_qui te entourent. Regarde ce “tapié” et ses êtres étranges._
=danda anâ=
_Silence maintenant!_
Now be attentive to behold one of the worlds which surround thee. Look
at that “tapié” and its strange beings. Silence now!
Auditive. November 2, 1898 (translated December 18).—Hélène has a
morning vision of a Martian (Ramié) who encircles her waist with one
arm and with the other shows her, while speaking these words, a strange
tableau (=tapié=) containing extraordinary beings speaking the unknown
language of the following text. At the moment the vision is effaced
Hélène writes, without perceiving that she has done so, text No. 34.
(For further details, see the following chapter on the Ultra-Martian.)
33. BAK SANAK TOP ANOK SIK
=sirima nêbé viniâ-ti-mis-métiche ivré toué=
_rameau vert nom de un homme sacré dans_
ÉTIP VANÉ SANIM BATAM ISSEM TANAK
=viniâ-ti-misé-bigâ azâni maprinié imizi kramâ ziné=
_nom de une enfant mal entré sous panier bleu_
VANEM SÉBIM MAZAK TATAK SAKAM
=viniâ-ti-mis-zaki datrinié tuzé vâmé gâmié=
_nom de un animal caché malade triste pleure._
Branch green—name of a man—sacred—in—name of a
child—bad—entered—under—basket—blue—name of an
animal—hidden—ill—sad—weeps.
Auditive, as to the non-Martian text (see following chapter) which
Hélène heard spoken on the 2d of November by the strange beings of the
tableau of the preceding vision. Vocal, as to the Martian translation
of this text, which was given by Astané (incarnated in Hélène and
speaking the unknown language by her mouth, followed by its Martian
equivalent for each word), in the seance of the 18th of December, 1898.
Immediately after, Astané yielded his place to Esenale, who in turn
repeated the Martian phrase, translating it word for word into French
by the customary process.
[Illustration: Fig. 29. Text No. 34 (November 2, 1898), written by
Mlle. Smith, incarnating Ramié. Natural size.]
*34. =Ramié di pédrinié anâ né ériné diviné=
_Ramié te quitte maintenant, est satisfait, heureux_
=té mûné ten ti vi. hed dassinié mis abadâ ti ché=
_du moment près de toi. Il garde un peu de ton_
=atèv ni di parêzié banâ mirâξ.—évaï divinée=
_être et te laisse trois adieux. Sois heureuse!_
Ramié leaves thee now, is satisfied, happy for the moment near to
thee. He retains a little of thy being and leaves thee three adieux.
Be happy.
Graphic. November 2, 1898 (translated December 18).—Hélène only
perceived after its accomplishment that her hand, which she felt
“firmly held,” had written this text at the close of the preceding
vision (see Fig. 29).
35. [A] =attanâ zabiné pi ten té iche tarvini mabûré=
_Monde arriéré, très près du nôtre, langage grossier,_
=nubé téri zée atèv [B] Astané êzi dabé fouminé ni=
_curieux comme les êtres!—Astané, mon maître puissant et_
=ié ti takâ tubré né bibé ti zé umêzé=
_tout de pouvoir, seul est capable de le faire._
Hidden world, very near to ours, coarse language, curious like the
beings.—Astané, my powerful master and all powerful, alone is capable
of doing it.
Auditive. December 5, 1898 (translated December 18).—Working by
lamp-light at seven o’clock in the morning, Hélène again had a vision
of the Martian (Ramié) who had clasped her waist with one arm while
showing her something with a gesture of the other (probably the tableau
of the preceding vision, though Hélène did not see it) and uttering
the first phrase of it (A). The second phrase (B) is the reply of this
same Martian to a mental question of Hélène asking him to translate
the strange language of the other day. (She must, therefore, have
understood the meaning of the first phrase in order to have replied to
it by her appropriate mental question.)
[Illustration: Fig. 30. Text No. 37 (March 24, 1899), written by Mlle.
Smith, incarnating Astané. [Collection of M. Lemaître.] Owing to a
defect of the stereotype plate a dot is lacking on the first letter.]
36. [A] =aé aé aé aé lassunié lâmi rêzé aé aé aé=
_Aé, aé, aé, aé!—Approche; voici Rêzé... aé, aé, aé,_
=aé niké bulié va né ozâmié zitêni primêni—[B] ozâmié=
_aé, petit Bulié... où est Ozamié? Zitêni, Primêni... Ozamié,_
=viniâ ti mis bigâ kêmâ zitêni viniâ ti misé bigâ kêmisi=
_nom de un enfant mâle; Zitêni, nom de une enfant femelle;_
=primêni viniâ ti misé bigâ kêmisi=
_Priméni, nom de une enfant femelle._
Aé, aé, aé, aé! Approach, here is Rézá ... aé, aé, aé, aé, little
Bulié ... where is Ozamié? Zitêni, Primêni ... Ozamié, name of a male
child; Zitêni, name of a female child; Primêni, name of a female child.
[Illustration: Fig. 31. Text No. 38 (March 30, 1899), written by
Mlle. Smith copying a text of Ramié, who appeared to her in a visual
hallucination. [Collection of M. Lemaître.]]
Auditive. March 8, 1899 (translated June 4).—Hélène heard the phrase
(A) during the vision of which the description follows. At the
translation, as the sitters did not at once understand that the three
first words are proper names, Esenale adds the phrase (B) with its
French signification. “I was unable to go to sleep yesterday evening.
At half-past eleven everything around me was suddenly lighted up, and
the vivid light permitted me to distinguish surrounding objects. I
arose this morning with a very clear remembrance of that which I then
saw. A tableau was formed in that light, and I had more before me than
the interior of a Martian house—an immense square hall, around which
shelves were fastened, or rather little tables suspended and fastened
to the wall. Each of these tables contained a baby, but not at all
bundled up; all the movements of these little infants were free, and
a simple linen cloth was thrown round the body. They might be said to
be lying on yellow moss. I could not say with what the tables were
covered. Some men with strange beasts were circulating round the hall;
these beasts had large flat heads, almost without hair, and large, very
soft eyes, like those of seals; their bodies, slightly hairy, resembled
somewhat those of roes in our country, except for their large and flat
tails; they had large udders, to which the men present fitted a square
instrument with a tube, which was offered to each infant, who was thus
fed with the milk of these beasts. I heard cries, a great hurly-burly,
and it was with difficulty that I could note these few words [of this
text]. This vision lasted about a quarter of an hour; then everything
gradually disappeared, and in a minute after I was in a sound sleep.”
*37. =Astané bounié zé buzi ti di triné nâmi ni=
_Astané cherche le moyen de te parler beaucoup et_
=ti di umêzé séïmiré bi tarvini=
_de te faire comprendre son langage._
Astané searches for the means to speak to thee much and to make thee
understand his language.
Graphic. March 24, 1899 (translated June 4).—“Half-past six in the
morning. Vision of Astané. I was standing, about to put on my slippers.
He spoke to me, but I could not understand him. I took this sheet of
paper and a pencil; he spoke to me no more, but seized my hand which
held the pencil. I wrote under this pressure; I understood nothing, for
this is as Hebrew to me. My hand was released; I raised my head to see
Astané, but he had disappeared” (see Fig. 30).
*38. =fédié amès Ramié di uzénir tès luné amès zé=
_Fédié, viens; Ramié te attendra ce jour; viens, le_
=boua trinir=
_frère parlera._
Fédié, come; Ramié will await thee to-day; come, the brother will
speak.
Visual. March 30, 1899 (translated June 4).—Seated at her toilet-table,
at half-past nine o’clock in the evening, Hélène found herself suddenly
enveloped in a rose-colored fog, which hid one part of the furniture
from her, then was dissipated, allowing her to see, at the farther end
of her room, “a strange hall, lighted with rose-colored globes fastened
to the wall.” Nearer to her appeared a table suspended in the air, and
a man in Martian costume, who wrote with a kind of nail fastened to his
right index-finger. “I lean towards this man; I wish to place my left
hand on this imaginary table, but my hand falls into empty space, and
I have great difficulty in restoring it to its normal position. It was
stiff, and for some moments felt very weak.” Happily the idea occurred
to her to take pencil and paper and copy “the characters which the
Martian, whom I had seen several times before [Ramié], traced; and with
extreme difficulty—since they were much smaller than mine—I succeeded
in reproducing them” (the Martian text of Fig. 31). All this lasted
about a quarter of an hour. I went immediately to bed, and saw nothing
more that evening, nor on the following day.
[Illustration: Fig. 32. Text No. 39 (April 1, 1899), written by Mlle.
Smith, incarnating Ramié. [Collection of M. Lemaître.] Natural size.]
*39. =Ramié pondé acâmi andélir téri antéch=
_Ramié, savant astronome, apparaîtra comme hier_
=iri é vi anâ. riz vi banâ mirâξ ti Ramié ni=
_souvent à toi maintenant. Sur toi trois adieux de Ramié et_
=Astané. évaï divinée=
_Astané. Sois heureuse!_
Ramié, learned astronomer, will appear as yesterday often to thee now.
Upon thee three adieux from Ramié and Astané. Be happy!
Graphic. April 1, 1899 (translated June 4).—“Again, on going to bed at
five minutes past ten, a new vision of the personage seen day before
yesterday [Ramié]. I thought he was about to speak, but no sound issued
from his lips. I quickly take pencil and paper, and feel my right arm
seized by him, and I begin to trace the strange handwriting attached
hereto (see Fig. 32). He is very affectionate; his bearing, his look,
everything breathes both goodness and strangeness. He leaves me really
charmed.”
40. =ramié ébanâ dizênâ zivênié ni bi vraïni=
_Ramié, lentement, profondément, étudie, et son désir_
=assilé né ten ti rès kalâmé astané êzi dabé né zi=
_immense est près de se accomplir. Astané mon maître est là_
=med lé godané ni ankôné évaï bané zizazi divinée=
_pour me aider et réjouir. Sois trois fois heureuse!_
Ramié, slowly, deeply studies, and his great desire is near to being
accomplished. Astané, my master, is there to aid me and to rejoice.
Mayst thou be thrice happy!
Auditive. June 4, 1899 (translated same seance).—Hemisomnambulism, in
which Hélène, without having a vision, hears a voice addressing words
to her, from which, with some difficulty, she collected the preceding
sentences.
41. To these texts, forming sentences, in order to complete the whole,
some isolated words must be added, gathered on various occasions, the
meaning of which is obtained with sufficient certainty, either from the
French context in which they were framed, or from Hélène’s description
of the objects which they designated. These words are =chèke=, _papier_
(“paper”); =chinit=, _bague_ (“ring”); =asnète=, _espèce de paravent_
(“kind of screen”). =Anini Nikaîné=, proper name of a little girl (see
p. 176), probably the Martian sister of Esenale, who floats beside her,
invisible to her, and watches over her during an illness, after the
fashion of spirit protectors. =Béniel=, proper name of our earth, as
seen from Mars (which is called =Durée= in texts 7 and 9).
III. REMARKS ON THE MARTIAN LANGUAGE
Provided the reader has given some attention to the foregoing texts, if
only to the two first, he undoubtedly will have been easily satisfied
as to the pretended language of the planet Mars, and perhaps will be
astonished that I have spent so much time upon it. But, as many of the
_habitués_ of the seances of Mlle. Smith—and, naturally, Mlle. Smith
herself—hold seriously to its authenticity, I cannot absolve myself
from stating why the “Martian” is, in my opinion, only an infantile
travesty of French. Even in default of the astronomical importance
which is claimed for it on the authority of Leopold, this idiom
preserves all the psychological interest which attaches to automatic
products of subconscious activities of the mind, and it well deserves
some minutes of examination.
It is necessary at the start to render this justice to the
Martian (I continue to designate it by that name, for the sake of
convenience)—namely, that it is, indeed, a language and not a simple
jargon or gibberish of vocal noises produced at the hazard of the
moment without any stability. It cannot be denied the following
characteristics—First: It is a harmony of clearly articulated sounds,
grouped so as to form words. Secondly: These words when pronounced
express definite ideas. Thirdly, and finally: Connection of the
words with the ideas is continuous; or, to put it differently, the
signification of the Martian terms is permanent and is maintained
(apart from slight inconsistencies, to which I will return later on)
from one end to the other of the texts which have been collected in the
course of these three years.[21] I will add that in speaking fluently
and somewhat quickly, as Hélène sometimes does in somnambulism (texts
4, 11, 15, etc.), it has an acoustic quality altogether its own, due
to the predominance of certain sounds, and has a peculiar intonation
difficult to describe. Just as one distinguishes by ear foreign
languages which one does not understand, the whole dialect possessing
a peculiar accent which causes it to be recognized, so in this case
one perceives, from the first syllables uttered, whether Hélène is
speaking Hindoo or Martian, according to the musical connection, the
rhythm, the choice of consonants and vowels belonging to each of the
two idioms. In this the Martian, indeed, bears the stamp of a natural
language. It is not the result of a purely intellectual calculation,
but influences of an æsthetic order, emotional factors, have combined
in its creation and instinctively directed the choice of its assonances
and favorite terminations. The Martian language has certainly not
been fabricated in cold blood during the normal, habitual, French (so
to speak) state of Mlle. Smith, but it bears in its characteristic
tonalities the imprint of a peculiar emotional disposition, of a
fixed humor or psychical Orientation, of a special condition of mind,
which may be called, in one word, the _Martian_ state of Hélène. The
secondary personality, which takes pleasure in linguistic games, seems,
indeed, to be the same, at its source, as that which delights in the
exotic and highly colored visual images of the planet of red rocks, and
which animates the personages of the Martian romance.
A glance at the _ensemble_ of the foregoing texts shows that Martian,
as compared with French, is characterized by a superabundance of _é_,
_ê_, and _i’s_, and a scarcity of diphthongs and the nasal sounds. A
more accurate statistical table of sounded vowels which strike the
ear in reading aloud the Martian texts on the one hand, and their
translation into French on the other, gives me the percentages of
Table I., which follows. But it is well known that the vowels are
distinguished, from the acoustic point of view, by certain fixed
characteristic sounds, and that they are distributed at different
heights in the musical scale.
TABLE I.—STATISTICS OF VOWEL SOUNDS
Martian French
_a_ % 16.3 13.7
_e_ mute (like those of _casemate_) “ 3.6 20.8
_e_ closed or half-closed (like those
of _hébété_, _rêvé_) “ 36.9 14.3
_e_ open (like that of _aloès_) “ 2.1 4.6
_i_ “ 34.3 13.4
_o_ “ 2.3 5.7
_u_ “ 2.3 3.1
Diphthongs and nasals (_ou_, _oi_,
_eu_, _an_, _in_, _on_, _un_) “ 2.1 24.5
TABLE II.—GROUPING FROM POINT OF VIEW OF HEIGHT
Martian French
Vowels, high (_i_ and _e_ sounded) % 73.3 32.3
Vowels, middle (_a_ and _o_) “ 18.6 19.4
Vowels, low or hollow (_u_; diphthongs
and nasals; _e_ mute) “ 8.0 48.4
_i_ and _é_ are the highest, _a_ and _o_ occupy the middle place,
_u_ and _ou_ are found in the lower part of the scale. In adding to
the latter, therefore, the nasals, which are always hollow, and also
_e_ mute, Table I. divides itself into the three groups of Table II.
from the point of view of height and sonorousness. It is, therefore,
clear that the Martian is of a general tonality much higher than the
French; since, while the two languages have almost the same proportion
of middle vowels, the low, hollow, or mute sounds, which constitute
almost one-half of the French vowels, amount to scarcely one-twelfth in
Martian, in which the high sounds, on the contrary, represent in bulk
three-quarters of the vowels, against one-third only in the French.
On the other hand, researches in the field of colored audition have
demonstrated that a close psychological connection exists, based on
certain emotional analogies and an equivalence of organic reactions,
between the high sounds and the bright or vivid colors, and the low
or hollow sounds and the sombre colors. But this same correlation is
found in the somnambulistic life of Mlle. Smith, between the brilliant,
luminous, highly colored visions which characterize her Martian cycle
and the language of the high and sonorous vowels which gushes forth in
the same cycle. It is allowable to conclude from this that it is really
the same emotional atmosphere which bathes and envelops these varied
psychological products, the same personality which gives birth to these
visual and phonetic automatisms. The imagination cannot, however, as is
easily understood, create its fiction out of nothing; it is obliged to
borrow its materials from individual experience. The Martian tableaux
are, therefore, only a reflection of the terrestrial world, but of that
part of it which possesses the most warmth and brilliancy—the Orient;
in the same way, the Martian language is only French metamorphosed and
carried to a higher diapason.
I admit, then, that Martian is a language, and a natural language,
in the sense that it is automatically brought forth in the emotional
state, or by the secondary personality, which is the source of all the
remainder of the cycle without the conscious participation of Mlle.
Smith. It remains for me now to mention some of the characteristics
which seem to indicate that the inventor of this subliminal linguistic
work had never known any idiom other than French, that it is much more
sensible to verbal expression than to logical connection of ideas,
and that it possesses in an eminent degree that infantile and puerile
character which I have already pointed out in the author of the Martian
romance. It now becomes necessary to examine rapidly this unknown
language, from the point of view of its phonetics and its writing, its
grammatical form, its syntax, and its vocabulary.
1. _Martian Phonetics and Handwriting._—Martian is composed of
articulate sounds, all of which, consonants as well as vowels, exist in
French. While on this globe languages geographically our neighbors (not
to mention those farther away) differ each from the other by certain
special sounds—_ch_, German, _th_, English, etc.—the language of the
planet Mars does not permit of similar phonetic originalities. It
seems, on the contrary, poorer in this respect than the French. As yet
I have not found in it the hissing _j_ or _ge_ (as in _juger_), nor the
double sound _x_. Martian phonetics, in a word, are only an incomplete
reproduction of French phonetics.
The Martian alphabet, compared with ours, suggests a remarkable
analogy. The graphic form of the characters is certainly novel, and
no one would divine our letters in these designs of exotic aspect.
Nevertheless, each Martian sign (with the single exception of that of
the plural) corresponds to a French sign, although the inverse is not
the case, which indicates that here again we are in the presence of a
feeble imitation of our system of handwriting.
The twelve written texts upon which I base my comparison comprise
about 300 words (of which 160 are different) and 1200 signs. There are
altogether twenty-one different letters, all of which have their exact
equivalents in the French alphabet, which also has five others which
Martian lacks; _j_ and _x_, of which the sounds themselves have not
been observed, and _q_, _w_, and _y_, of which there is a double use,
with _k_, _v_, and _i_. This reduction of graphic material manifests
itself in two other details. First, there are neither accents nor
punctuation marks, with the exception of a certain sign, resembling
the French circumflex, used sometimes in the shape of a point at the
end of phrases. In the second place, each letter has only one form,
the diversity of capitals and small letters not seeming to exist in
Martian. Of ciphers we know nothing.
There are still three small peculiarities to notice:
1. In default of capitals, the initials of proper names are often
distinguished by a point placed above the ordinary character.
2. In the case of double letters the second is replaced by a point
situated at the right of the first.
3. Finally, there exists, in order to designate the plural of
substantives and of some adjectives, a special graphic sign, answering
to nothing in the pronunciation and having the form of a small
vertical undulation, which reminds one a little of an amplification
of the French _s_, the usual mark of the plural in French. These
peculiarities, outside the ordinary form of the letters, constitute the
sum total of ingenuity displayed in Martian handwriting.
It must be added that this handwriting, which is not ordinarily
inclined, goes from left to right, like the French. All the letters are
of nearly the same height, except that the _i_ is much smaller, and
that they remain isolated from each other; their assembly into words
and phrases offers to the eye a certain aspect of Oriental hieroglyphic
inscriptions.
The Martian alphabet never having been revealed as such, we are
ignorant of the order in which the letters follow each other. It would
seem as though the letters had been invented by following the French
alphabet, at least in great part, if one may judge according to the
analogies of form of the Martian characters corresponding to certain
series of French letters: compare _a_ and _b_; _g_ and _h_; _s_ and
_t_; and also the succession _k_, _l_, _m_, _n_.
It is in the phonetic value of the letters—that is to say, in the
correspondence of the articulated sounds with the graphic signs—that
the essentially French nature of the Martian may be seen. The only
notable difference to be pointed out here between the two languages
is the much greater simplicity of the Martian orthography, resulting
in the employment of no useless letters. All are pronounced, even the
final consonants, such as _s_, _n_, _z_, etc., which are generally
silent in French. This gives the impression that the Martian
handwriting is moulded on the spoken language, and is only the notation
of the articulated sounds of the latter by the most economical means.
In so far it realizes the type of a handwriting truly phonetic—that
is to say, where each sign corresponds to a certain elementary
articulation, constant and invariable, and vice versa. It is full, on
the other hand, of equivocations, of exceptions, of irregularities,
which make one and the same letter to have very different
pronunciations, according to circumstances, and, reciprocally,
which causes the same sound to be written in different ways without
our being able to perceive any rational explanation for all these
ambiguities—were it not for the fact that the very same thing is to be
found in French!
Martian is only disguised French. I will mention only the most curious
and striking coincidences, all the more striking from the fact that the
field from which I have collected them is very limited, being confined
to the dozen texts written and pronounced, which contain only 160
different words.
The simple vowels of the Martian alphabet correspond exactly to the
five French vowels, _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_, _u_, and have the same shades
of pronunciation.
The Martian _c_ plays the triple part which it also fulfils in French.
The _s_ has the same capricious character as in our language. It is
generally hard, but between two vowels it becomes soft, like _z_.
2. _Grammatical Forms._—The _ensemble_ of the texts which we possess
does not as yet permit us to make a Martian grammar. Certain
indications, however, warrant the prediction that the rules of that
grammar, if it ever sees the light of day, will be only the counterpart
of, or a parody upon, those of French.
Here, for example, is a list of personal pronouns, articles, possessive
adjectives, etc., which have appeared hitherto:
_je_ =cé= _me_ =lé=, _ton_ =ché= _ce_ =tès=, _de_ =ti=
_moi_ =si= _ces_ =têsé=
_tu_ =dé= _te_ =di=, _ta_ =chée= _cette_ =tês=, _des_ =tié=
_toi_ =vi= =têsée=
_il_ =hed= _se_ =rès=, _tes_ =chi= _le_ (pron.) _du_ =té=
_lui_ =pi= =zé=
_nous_ =nini= _mon_ =êzi= _son_ =bi= _qui_ =kâ=, _au_ =ine=
_que_ =ké=
_vous_ =sini= _ma_ =êzé= _sa_ =bé= _quel_ =kiz=,
_quelle_ =kizé=
_ils_ =hed= _mes_ =éziné= _ses_ =bée= _un_ =mis=, _une_ =misé=
_on_ =idé= _notre_ =iche= _le_, _la_ _les_ (art.)
=zé=, =zi=, =zée=.
There are some texts where the feminine is derived from the masculine
by the addition of an _e_ mute, and the plural by the small,
unpronounced sign, which has all the appearance of being a reminiscence
of French _s_.
Between these two languages there is another order of points
of contact, of a more special interest, because it shows the
preponderating rôle which verbal images have often played in the
making of Martian to the prejudice of the intrinsic, logical nature
of the ideas. I should say that at all times the Martian translates
the French word, allowing itself to be guided by auditive analogies
without regard to the real meaning, in such a way that we are surprised
to discover in the idiom of the planet Mars the same peculiarities of
homonyms as in French. It is also the case that two vocables identical
as to pronunciation, but of entirely heterogeneous signification, as
the preposition _à_ and the _a_ of the verb _avoir_, are rendered in
Martian by the same word, _é_.
Other curious coincidences are to be noted. In French the conjunction
_et_ only slightly differs, from the point of view of phonic images,
from the verb _est_; in Martian also there is a great analogy, between
=ni= and =né=, which translate these two words. Between the past
participle =nié= of the verb _to be_ and the conjunction =ni= there
is only the difference of an =_é_=, just as between their French
equivalents =_été_= and =_et_=.
It must be admitted that all these coincidences would be very
extraordinary if they were purely fortuitous.
3. _Construction and Syntax._—The order of the words is absolutely the
same in Martian as in French. This identity of construction of phrases
is pursued sometimes into the minutest details, such as the division
or amputation of the negation _ne_ ... _pas_ (texts 15 and 17), and
also the introduction of a useless letter in Martian to correspond to
a French euphemistic _t_ (see text 15), =Kèvi bérimir m hed=, _quand
reviendra-t-il?_ (“when will he return?”)
If it is admitted hypothetically that the succession of words,
such as is given us in these texts, is not the natural ordering of
the Martian language, but an artificial arrangement, like that of
juxtalinear translations for the use of pupils, the very possibility
of that correspondence absolutely word for word would remain an
extraordinary fact without a parallel, since there is not a single
language that I know of in which each term of the French phrase is
always rendered by _one_ term, neither more nor less, of the foreign
phrase. The hypothesis referred to is, moreover, inadmissible, since
the Martian texts, of which Esenale gives the literal translation,
were not previously arranged by him with that end in view; they are
the identical words which Mlle. Smith heard and noted in her visions,
often weeks and months before Esenale repeats them for the purpose of
translating them, and which constitute the conversation, as such, taken
from life, of the Martian personages. We must conclude from this that
these in their elocution follow step by step and word by word the order
of the French language, which amounts almost to saying that they speak
a French the sounds of which have simply been changed.
4. _Vocabulary._—From an etymological point of view, I have not been
able to distinguish any rule of derivation, even partial, that would
permit the suspicion that the Martian words had come from French words,
according to some law. Apart from the entire first text, where it is
difficult to deny that the people of Mars have stolen French terms of
politeness, at the same time distorting them, no clear resemblance
is to be seen between Martian words and the French equivalents; at
most, there are traces of borrowing, like =merve=, _superbe_, which
might have been abridged from _merveille_ (text 25), and =vechi=, an
imitation of _voir_.
Still less does the Martian lexicon betray the influence of other
known languages (at least to my knowledge). A term which suggests such
similarity is hardly ever met with—_e.g._, =modé=, _mère_ (“mother”),
and =gudé= _bon_ (“good”), cause us to think of German or English
words; =animina= (“existence”) is like _anima_; various forms of the
verbs _être_ and _vivre_ (“to be” and “to live”), =êvé=, =évaï=,
=essat=, recall the Latin _esse_ or the Hebrew _évé_, and that passage
of the Biblical story of the Creation where Eve is called the mother
of all living beings. A linguist who happened to be at the same time
a savant and a humorist would doubtless succeed in lengthening this
list of etymologies, after the mode of the eighteenth century. But,
_cui bono_? In that rarity of points of contact between the idioms of
our terrestrial sphere and the Martian glossary, an argument might be
found in favor of the extra-terrestrial origin of the latter, if, on
the other hand, it did not seem to betray the influence of the French
language from the fact that a notable proportion of its words reproduce
in a suspicious manner the same number of syllables or letters as their
French equivalents; note, for example, besides the terms of politeness
already mentioned, the words =tarvine=, _langage_; =haudan=, _maison_;
=dodé=, _ceci_; =valini=, _visage_, etc., and the great majority of the
little words, such as =cé=, _je_; =ké=, _que_; =ti=, _de_; =dé=, _tu_;
etc.
With the exception of such examples as these, it must be acknowledged
that there is no trace of parentage, filiation, of any resemblance
whatever between the Martian and French vocabularies, which forms a
singular contrast to the close identity which we have established
between the two languages in the preceding paragraphs.
This apparent contradiction carries its explanation in itself, and
gives us the key to Martian. This fantastic idiom is evidently the
naïve and somewhat puerile work of an infantile imagination, to which
occurred the idea of creating a new language, and which, while giving
to its lucubrations certain strange and unknown appearances, without
doubt caused them to run in the accustomed moulds of the only real
language of which it had cognizance. The Martian of Mlle. Smith, in
other words, is the product of a brain or a personality which certainly
has taste and aptitude for linguistic exercises, but which never knew
that French takes little heed of the logical connection of ideas,
and did not take the trouble to make innovations in the matter of
phonetics, of grammar, or of syntax.
The process of creation of Martian seems to have consisted in simply
taking certain French phrases as such and replacing each word by
some other chosen at random. That is why, especially in the texts at
the beginning, the structure of French words is recognized under the
Martian. The author herself was undoubtedly struck by it, and from that
time exerted herself to complicate her lexicon, to render her words
more and more unrecognizable.
This research of originality—which, however, she has never extended
beyond the purely material part of the language, never having an idea
that there might be other differences in languages—represents an effort
of imagination with which she must be credited. Homage must also be
rendered to the labor of memorizing, which the making of a dictionary
has necessitated. She has sometimes, indeed, fallen into errors; the
stability of her vocabulary has not always been perfect. But, finally,
after the first hesitation and independently of some later confusions,
it gives evidence of a praiseworthy terminological consistency, and
which no doubt in time, and with some suggestive encouragement, would
result in the elaboration of a very complete language—perhaps even of
several languages, as we may augur from text 33, to which we shall
return in the following chapter.
5. _Style._—It remains to investigate the style. If it is true
that “manners make the man”—that is to say, not the impersonal and
abstract understanding, but the concrete character, the individual
temperament, the humor and emotional vibration—we ought to expect to
find in the style of the Martian texts the same special stamp which
distinguishes the visions, the sound of the language, the handwriting,
the personages—in short, the entire romance, that is to say, the
curious mixture of Oriental exoticism and of childish puerility of
which the secondary personality of Mlle. Smith, at work in this cycle,
seems to be composed. It is difficult to pronounce upon these matters
of vague æsthetic impression rather than of precise observation; but,
as well as I can judge, there seems to me to be in the phraseology of
the texts collected an indefinable something which corresponds well
with the general character of the entire dream. As these words are
evidently first thought in French—then travesties in Martian by a
substitution of sounds, the choice of which, as has been seen, apropos
of the high tonality of this language, reflects the general emotional
disposition—it is, naturally, under their French aspect that we ought
to consider them in judging of their actual style. Unfortunately, we
do not know how far the translation given by Esenale is identical
with the primitive original; certain details seem to hint that there
are divergences sometimes. However that may be, it is clearly to be
perceived that the literary form of the majority of the texts (taken
in French) is more akin to poetry than to prose. While no one of
them is in verse, properly speaking, the large number of hemistiches
which are met with, the frequency of inversion, the choice of terms,
the abundance of exclamations and of broken phrases, betray a great
intensity of sentimental and poetic emotion. The same character is
found, with a strong shade of exotic and archaic originality, in the
formulas of salutation and farewell (“be happy to-day,” “three adieux
to thee,“ etc.), as well as in many expressions and terms of phrases
which rather recall the obscure and metaphorical parlance of the Orient
than the dry precision of our language of to-day (”_il garde un peu de
ton être; cet élément mystérieux, immense_,” etc.)
If, now, it is recollected that everywhere in literary history poetry
precedes prose, imagination comes before reason, and the lyric style
before the didactic, a conclusion according with that of the preceding
paragraphs is reached. Which is, that, by its figures and its style,
the Martian language (or the French phrases which serve it for a
skeleton) seems to bring to us the echo of a past age, the reflex of a
primitive state of mind, from which Mlle. Smith to-day finds herself
very far removed in her ordinary and normal states of mind.
IV. MLLE. SMITH AND THE INVENTOR OF MARTIAN
The preceding analysis of the Martian language furnishes its support
to the considerations which the content of the romance has already
suggested to us in regard to its author (p. 194). To imagine that by
twisting the sounds of French words a new language capable of standing
examination could actually be created, and to wish to make it pass for
that of the planet Mars, would be the climax of silly fatuity or of
imbecility were it not simply a trait of naïve candor well worthy of
the happy age of childhood.
The whole Martian cycle brings us into the presence of an infantine
personality exuberant of imagination, sharing, as to their light,
color, Oriental exoticism, the æsthetic tendencies of the actual normal
personality of Mlle. Smith, but contrasting with it outside its puerile
character in two points to be noted.
First: It takes a special pleasure in linguistic discussions and the
fabrication of unknown idioms, while Hélène has neither taste nor
facility for the study of languages, which she cordially detests and in
which she has never met with success.
Secondly: Notwithstanding this aversion, Hélène possesses a certain
knowledge, either actual or potential, of German—in which her parents
caused her to take lessons for three years—whereas the author of
Martian evidently knows only French. It is, in fact, difficult to
believe that, if that author had only a very slight knowledge of the
German language (so different from the French by the construction
of its sentences, pronunciation, its three genders, etc.), that
some reminiscences of it, at least, would not have slipped into its
lucubrations. I infer from this that the Martian secondary personality
which gives evidence of a linguistic activity so fecund, but so
completely subject to the structural forms of the mother-tongue,
represents a former stage, ulterior to the epoch at which Hélène
commenced the study of German.
If one reflects, on the other hand, on the great facility which Mlle.
Smith’s father seems to have possessed for languages (see p. 17),
the question naturally arises whether in the Martian we are not in
the presence of an awakening and momentary display of an hereditary
faculty, dormant under the normal personality of Hélène, but which she
has not profited from in an effective manner. It is a fact of common
observation that talents and aptitudes often skip a generation and seem
to pass directly from the grandparents to the grandchildren, forgetting
the intermediate link. Who knows whether Mlle. Smith, some day, having
obtained Leopold’s consent to her marriage, may not cause the polyglot
aptitudes of her father to bloom again with greater brilliancy, for the
glory of science, in a brilliant line of philologists and linguists of
genius?
Meanwhile, and without even invoking a special latent talent in
Hélène’s case, the Martian may be attributed to a survival or a
reawakening under the lash of mediumistic hypnoses of that general
function, common to all human beings, which is at the root of language
and manifests itself with the more spontaneity and vigor as we mount
higher towards the birth of peoples and individuals.
Ontogenesis, say the biologists, reproduces in abridged form and
_grosso-modo_ phylogenesis; each being passes through stages analogous
to those through which the race itself passes; and it is known that
the first ages of ontogenic evolution—the embryonic period, infancy,
early youth—are more favorable than later periods and adult age to the
ephemeral reappearances of ancestral tendencies, which would hardly
leave any trace upon a being who had already acquired his organic
development. The “poet who died young” in each one of us is only the
most common example of those atavic returns of tendencies and of
emotions which accompanied the beginnings of humanity, and remain
the appanage of infant peoples, and which cause a fount of variable
energy in each individual in the spring-time of his life, to congeal or
disappear sooner or later with the majority; all children are poets,
and that in the original, the most extended, acceptation of the term.
They create, they imagine, they construct—and language is not the least
of their creations.
I conclude from the foregoing that the very fact of the reappearance of
that activity in the Martian states of Hélène is a new indication of
the infantile, primitive nature left behind in some way and long since
passed by her ordinary personality, of the subliminal strata which
mediumistic autohypnotization with her puts in ebullition and causes
to mount to the surface. There is also a perfect accord between the
puerile character of the Martian romance, the poetic and archaic charms
of its style, and the audacious and naïve fabrication of its unknown
language.