Part 21

` ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ` ´ Though they come from the ends of the earth. ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯

KIPLING.

It is either the iambic (˘¯) or the anapest (˘˘¯). Of course, these vary to some extent in conformity with the reader's intonation, but the spirit of the language is always from weakness to strength, in place of from strength to weakness, as with the German. It is always the waves approaching the shore and then breaking against it, as against the wind coming up suddenly and then dying away. This is the reason why a serenade or lullaby in English can never be rendered with the same effect as in German, the English voice rising at the end instead of falling.

Wherever a verse commences with a stress, it must be considered that a fall of the voice or an inspiration has preceded it; this, though unaccompanied by sound, being really the case. I have thus marked the beginning of Longfellow's beautiful lines:

` ´ `´ ` ´ Falls----as----from.

Mr. Lunn, in his Philosophy of Voice, has the following:

"How many Englishmen dare utter loudly a word beginning with a vowel? If attempted, either it would not be done, or, in spite of the speaker, owing to the weakness of the muscles which draw the cords together [sic], an aspirate would precede the vowel."

This is right, as far as his observation is concerned, but he does not seem to know that this very weakness he complains of is really the strength of the English language, the lull before the storm, the concentration before the explosion; and that "thus the idiosyncrasy of our people's speech" is not "deadness, weakness, and general feebleness," but, on the contrary, a strength and a virility not surpassed by any other tongue. This finds illustration in Kipling's

`´ `´ `´ `´ Oh east is east, etc.

It is but necessary to comprehend the laws which underlie this apparent weakness to turn it to its best account, and to obtain from it the highest results, both for speech and song. As for the "weakness of the muscles which draw the cords together," it will scarcely be necessary for me to make a specific refutation; the premises upon which such assumption is founded being quite untenable, there being quite as much vigor in the muscles and cords of an Anglo-Saxon as in those of any other nation. Nor, I suppose, will it be necessary to strengthen my assertions by once more quoting the separate words and thus pointing out the iambic, the rise after the fall (˘¯), or the anapest (˘˘¯), the twofold repose and gathering of strength for the final emphasis.

The English language in its Saxon words mainly consists of monosyllables. These, however, as stated, must be looked upon as words of two syllables, a suppressed intonation always preceding their vowel sounds. The majority of such words, as a matter of fact, originally consisted of two syllables, of which the last was dropped when they were adopted by the English. This last syllable, representing the fall of the voice thus disappearing, left the first, which represented its rise, standing unsupported by itself. As the rise of the voice, however, cannot be expressed without the accompaniment of its fall, the latter always tacitly accompanies the same, and is expressed in an undertone, preceding the rise.

Almost every verb of this class will give evidence of this fact:

´ ` ´ ´ ` ´ ´ ` ´ Gehen--go, sehen--see, hoeren--hear,

´ ` ´ ´ ` ´ ´ ` ´ sprechen--speak, kochen--cook, tanzen--dance,

´ ` ´ fallen--fall, etc.

Hence, in conformity with the above, these words in the English language should be properly marked thus:

`´ `´ `´ `´ `´ `´ Go, see, hear, speak, cook, dance, etc.

which gives the real intonation thereof.

This applies to all words commencing with a vowel, and explains what Mr. Lunn has designated as a "weakness of the English language":

`´ `´ `´ `´ `´ `´ `´ Art, arm, or, all, eagle, each, old, etc.

Without this half-suppressed fall of the voice, there would be no beauty, no charm, no soul in the English language; in fact, it could not exist. Words of two syllables, however, always have the fall of the voice on the first, its rise on the second, syllable, even where the preponderance of time belongs to the first syllable, as in the words

` ´ ` ´ Danced, hazel, etc. ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘

The reader will find these statements sustained by almost every word he may examine into, which will show that the characteristic expression of English diction is that of the iambic measure, which passes from weakness to strength; while that of German diction, as already stated, is that of the trochaic measure, which passes from strength to weakness.

Having shown that German sentiment is in accord with the idiomatic expression of the German language, I will now show that English sentiment also conforms to its idiomatic expression. I must beg the reader, however, not to be over-critical. I am not attempting to furnish comparative sketches of the national character of these peoples in a literary sense, but am entering into these matters for the sole purpose of sustaining the results of my physiological investigations. Nor should these attempts be applied to individual cases, there being exceptions to all rules, but to the national character in general. If a person in making investigations of this kind had to constantly fear that he might be treading on some one's sensitive toes, he could never make any headway at all. I am, in fact, perfectly willing to apologize beforehand for any such mishap possibly taking place, as I wish to be perfectly impartial and without bias. I have said this much partly for the reason also that in consequence of some remark, on one occasion, made in my former publication in favor of the English vs. the Germans, one critic honored me with the epithet "renegade."

The rising voice succeeding the falling is not a soft and gradual receding, but, on the contrary, it is more like an explosion, a trumpet-blast; the inspiration which had been "stored" being suddenly released. There is no such "storing" in connection with German diction; inspiration and expiration succeeding each other on the spot. With English diction this change may be compared to the break of day after the night; the fray after the repose; resurrection after death; a conflagration and a rebuilding at once on the spot, not only individually, but by an entire community (Boston and Chicago); an outburst after due deliberation; no sentimentality, but a firm resolve for the right; patient submission to a point, then a strike for liberty; the slow accumulation of a fortune and the spontaneous spending thereof; a hot political campaign and a victory or defeat; in either case acquiescence; no vain mourning after the fact; a butterfly of wealth, idleness, and fashion, then perhaps ruin; yet not despair, but a brave conformity to altered circumstances; an energy in the pursuit of business or of war which does not flag until utterly exhausted or success is achieved and a victory is won. All this is due to the reserve force in the character of English-speaking people, which comes to their rescue when circumstances demand it. A world positive and direct, full of energy, restlessness, and activity. A world of, and for, this world; whose world to come, even, must have a positive and well-defined character and surroundings:

"Where the walls are made of jasper and the streets are paved with gold."

To what is all this due but to this bond of language uniting these millions, and embracing every foreign element, in its children at least? The theme is inexhaustible, but I am limited as to time; yet additional remarks on the same subject will be forthcoming during the further pursuance of these studies.

For song, it appears to me, the words, besides being marked by notes, should also be marked as to rhythm, as this would assist singers in giving them the proper intonation; notes indicating metre, but not rhythm.