In looking for the voice, anatomy in its minute examinations of the larynx has but opened up a grave for us to gaze into. And what have we beheld? A skeleton of the voice's body—of its soul not a trace. This skeleton, to boot, is but a portion of the mechanism of the voice; of its other parts, equally important, science has not even known that they were in existence. Like a palæontologist or an archæologist, I have dug up these other parts or fragments from all around; some were found close at hand, others quite a distance off. I have skilfully put them together, and have thus constructed a fairly complete torso, or framework of the voice. I say "torso," though I may justly claim more than that, having again infused the soul into it which had fled from it; and, see, it has become a living thing.
That the wonderful apparatus contained in the throat is for a purpose there cannot, of course, be any doubt. It is but partly for the purpose attributed to it, however, and, until we better comprehend this part-purpose, especially in view of the fact that we have no control over its mechanism, it will be best, as far as singers and elocutionists are concerned, to surrender it to and leave it with the anatomists.
To the ultimate aim of science—the knowledge of life—I have contributed matters of a nature deemed beyond the province of the knowledge of man. Was it ever intended that they should be known? On more than one occasion I have been puzzled to know whether to go on with these investigations; whether I had a right to go on with them. Still, I was sustained by the fact that I had been led on to them. For what other purpose could this have been done but for that of making the results thereof known? They could serve no good purpose in remaining locked up within myself.
It is my belief that the ordinary course of events is never interfered with; but that great events may be inaugurated by unseen agencies and guided by unseen hands. The responsibility which has devolved upon me, incompetent and unprepared as I am, is almost too great; still, I must try to discharge it to the best of my ability.
I have no personal motive of either fame or fortune. At one time I would have been pleased with such results; now it is too late. If not in my day, some day, I trust, some one will read and comprehend; some one will not mind the trouble of investigation. It is not likely that I shall forever remain the only "seeing one."
It would have been better if I had not published a line for at least ten years. It would have taken that long to say what I want to say, properly. My time is too uncertain, however, to run such a risk. My friends are falling to the right and left by the roadside. I must be up and doing; must make a beginning at least.
We must be satisfied with reaching matters approximately, and argue by analogy to some extent; and also hope that others will take them up and push them along a little farther than we have been able to do. Perhaps in the course of time a perfect insight may be arrived at.