Duality of Voice

by Emil Sutro

RISE AND FALL, OR RHYTHM

The thorax is productive of the falling, the abdomen of the rising voice, the former being the representative of the impression for sounds, the latter of their expression.

An Anglo-Saxon's voice, inspiring, as he does, into the thorax, and expiring from the abdomen, will first fall and then rise. A German's voice, on the contrary, inspiring, as he does, into the abdomen, and expiring from the thorax, will first rise and then fall.

This is the fundamental cause of the difference between the idiomatic expression of these two peoples, and primarily also of the difference existing between their national traits physically as well as mentally.

Every original word in either of these languages will illustrate these facts:

´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Vater, Mutter, Bruder, Schwester.

Take the same words in English, and the accent will be reversed:

` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
Father, Mother, Brother, Sister

When these and similar words were adopted into the English language, it was done at the expense of their original idiomatic expression. I am speaking of the music, the rise and fall, the rhythm pervading a language, not of time or measure, nor of the intonation, nor of emphasis.

I make four distinctions, and expect to prove that they are the basis of every artistic expression of either speech or song. First, measure or time. Second, the rise and fall of the voice, equal to its rhythm. Third, intonation, which pertains to words in accordance with their meaning. Fourth, emphasis, which has reference to the feelings.

That the human voice is capable of at one and the same time expressing four moods so different from each other, shows that there are various factors (all of a different nature) simultaneously at work producing these different results. To correctly indicate these four characteristics, it would be necessary to mark each syllable in a fourfold manner. I shall confine myself to the rhythm and the metre, and shall mark the former above the line by using the signs for accent (´`), and the latter below the line by using those for metre (¯˘).

Right here is the main stumbling-block with persons of either nationality in speaking the language of the other. They will in so doing invariably retain the idiomatic expression of their own vernacular.

The proper way to illustrate the rhythm would be as follows:

´`´` ´` ´` ´`
Vater, Mutter, gut.
`´ `´ `´ `´ `´
Father, Mother, good.

There is always a rise of the voice before its fall in German, and a fall before its rise in English for each and every syllable. When a language is well spoken, this complete intonation is always heard. If this needs illustration, which it should not, being so obvious, the poetry of both peoples offers proofs in great abundance. It is a notable fact that, with German verse, the voice for the end syllable always sinks, with English it rises; the former is generally short, the latter long; but even where the word ends with a long syllable in German the voice falls at the end, and where one ends with a short syllable in English the voice rises at the end.

To anxiously count every syllable in poetry is contrary to the spirit of a language. There are slight touches here and there which simply serve as connecting links, and which, in marking the rhythmic flow of sounds, should not be included as belonging to the metre. Most of these are prefixes or affixes, pauses for repose or relaxation, consisting in scarcely noticeable inspirations or expirations, which are necessary to strengthen the voice for the actual metre. The various intonations are generally expressed by the use of the signs for long and short only. As the latter, properly speaking, only represent time or measure, the voice is left to express as best it may and without any guidance whatsoever every other factor composing a language. All I want to do now is to show by the signs for the accent the difference between the English and German rhythmic movement:

´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Auf der duftverlornen Grenze
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Jener Berge tanzen hold
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Abendwolken ihre Taenze
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Leicht geschuerzt im Strahlengold.
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯

Lenau.

´ ` ´` ´` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Auf ihrem Grab da steht eine Linde
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´` ´ ` ´ `
Drin pfeifen die Voegel im Abendwinde;
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´` ´` ´ ` ´` ´ `
Die Winde die wehen so lind und so schaurig,
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´` ´ ` ´ ` ´` ´ `
Die Voegel die singen so suess und so traurig.
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘

Heine.

The beginning of every line in this verse might remain unmarked as not belonging to the rhythmic expression proper, and being expressive mainly of an inspiration preceding the expiration which it foreshadows. The beauty of Heine's verse is largely due to the fact that he does not anxiously count time, but lets his voice rise and fall where it is most effective. It will be noticed that there is a greater movement, as expressed by the signs of the rhythm, in Heine's verse than there is in Lenau's, hence the inexpressible charm of his diction. Here is another great poet, or poetess rather, the greatest Germany has produced, also fearless of prescribed forms, but full of charm and power:

´ ` ´` ´ ` ´` ´` ´`
O schaurig ists uebers Moor zu gehn,
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
´ ` ´` ´ ` ´ `
Wenn es wimmelt vom Haiderauche,
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
´` ´` ´` ´` ´ ` ´ `
Sich wie Phantome die Duenste drehn
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
´ ` ´ ` ´` ´ `
Und die Ranke haekelt am Strauche.
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘

Droste-Huelshoff.

In these last two citations, the dactylus (¯ ˘ ˘) is the prevailing measure, which but strengthens my assertion that in German diction there is a fall after a rise; the former being here more distinctly expressed than in the simple trochaic measure. The fall, the relaxation, being greater, the rise, the vigor in the expression, thereby gains additional strength. What is the consequence of this falling off or gliding down in German diction so well expressed in Lenau's

´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
"Auf der duftverlornen Grenze"?

It is not a positive line of demarcation, but one which is lost, as it were, "in the soft ether of the evening sky."

Hence the high tide succeeded by the low, the aspiration followed by resignation, the night after the day, death after life, repose after the strife—all this expresses the genius of the German language; and is also expressive of German life and character—its dreaminess, its longing, its desire for the ideal, never to be attained; the abstract, the abstruse; its yearning, its altruism, its transcendentalism, its Weltschmerz (the sadness pervading all nature). It is also expressive of its Begeisterung (an enthusiasm which upon the slightest provocation takes a man almost off his feet). All these are traits of the German national character.

There is no spiritual bond among all these millions that could possibly produce such sentiments and feelings as its result, differing, as they do, from the feelings of any other nation or people, but that of a language common to all.

To prove that the trochaic measure is the one ordained by nature for German expression, it is but necessary to glance at the characteristic words of the preceding verses:

´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Wimmelt, Haide, gehen, wehen, drehen, Ranke, haekelt,
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
Grenze, jener, Berge, Abend, Wolken, Taenze,
´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `
strahlen, ihren, eine, Linde, pfeifen, Voegel, Winde,
´ ` ´ ` ´ `
schaurig, singen, traurig.

The same rhythm, though not so obviously expressed, obtains with the words of one syllable:

´` ´` ´` ´` ´ ` ´` ´`
Auf, der, Duft, hold, leicht, im, Gold,
´` ´ ` ´` ´ ` ´ ` ´`
Grab, steht, lind, suess, ueber's, Moor.

Now compare with this the strength and vigor of English diction, which runs in the precisely opposite direction:

` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
The stag at eve had drunk his fill,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill;
˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
`´ `´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
And deep his midnight lair had made,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ´
In lone Glenartney's hazel shade.
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯

Scott.

` ´ ` ´ ` ´ `´ `´
The day is done, and the darkness
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘
`´ ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ` ´
Falls from the wings of night,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
`´ ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ´
As a feather is wafted downward
˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘
`´ ` `´ ` ´ ` ´
From an eagle in his flight.
˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯

Longfellow.

` ` ´ ` `´ `´ `´ ` `´
Oh east is east, and west is west,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ ` ` ´ ` ´
And never the two shall meet,
˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
Till earth and sky stand presently,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
`´ ` ´ ` ´ ` ´
At God's great judgment seat.
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ´
But there is neither east nor west,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
`´ ` ` ´ ` ´
Border, nor breed, nor birth,
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ´ `´ `´ ` ´ ` ´
When two strong men stand face to face,
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯
` ` ´ ` ` ´ ` ` ´
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.

Metre and rhythm are produced by two distinctly different processes; metre, or time, being the outcome of a mode of breathing subject to the will, while rhythm is the outcome of an involuntary mode of breathing for a characteristic quality inherent in a nation's language as its idiomatic expression.

Ordinarily, both metre and rhythm are expressed by the same signs (˘¯); this is very misleading.

To express time, or metre, I use the signs for short and long (˘¯). To express rhythm, or the fall and rise of the voice, I use the signs for what is usually called the accent (´`). If we were to measure the exact time, however, consumed in the utterance of syllables, we would find that the falling voice, which is the product of inspiration and belongs to the thorax, requires more time than the rising voice, which is the product of expiration and belongs to the abdomen.

In marking verse, however, the sign for long (¯) generally accompanies the short syllable of the rising, and the sign for short (˘) the, as a matter of fact, long syllable of the falling voice. It takes longer to fill a bottle than to pour out its contents; to prepare a dish than to eat it; to walk upstairs than to jump from a window. It takes longer to prepare for an utterance than to utter it. It takes longer to inspire than to expire.

In view of the vast foreign element constituting a part of this nation, it would be a matter of interest to know at what period the foreigner ceases to exist as such and the "American" begins; or, in other words, to understand when the evolution takes place which transforms the foreigner into the American. From my point of view it is, above all, a question of language. The political aspect of the case is scarcely to be considered. An unnaturalized Englishman, consequently, after thoroughly "Americanizing" his language, becomes more of an American (no matter whether he himself thinks so or not) than an Irishman who, though naturalized, never ceases to use his native brogue.

These questions, of course, are many-sided. When I speak of nationality, however, I have the best specimens of a nation as representatives thereof in view always. A man with a foreign accent does not have the same standing or influence in municipal, state, and national councils as one who speaks a pure English; there is always a feeling against him, no matter how able or patriotic he may be, of some foreign influence as a substratum in his composition.