Just here biologists have blundered, trying to get hold of psyche by pursuing matter bereft of life; or investigating life in other beings instead of that inherent in themselves. The vivisection of all the frogs in the world will not give us the first knowledge of the frog's soul; certainly not of our soul. The knowledge of the anatomical construction of the larynx has brought us no nearer the knowledge of the mystery of the voice than that of the brain has brought us to that of the soul. We must understand the process by which the mechanism of the brain is set in motion before we can begin to understand our mode of thinking. We must comprehend the manner in which a musical instrument is to be used before we can begin to draw music from the same. And so must we understand the spirit which moves the mechanism of the voice (of which so far we have known but a single factor), if we want to understand our mode of using it.
Does any one seriously think that by photographing vocal sounds, or passing a mirror down his throat and watching the movements of the vocal cords, he will observe anything that will lead him to an intimate knowledge of nature's subtle process by which vocal sounds are produced? As well look at the face of a clock and see its hands move, and then say you have arrived at a knowledge of the hidden intricate mechanism of the works of the clock. The mechanism of the instrument of the voice is a thousand times more intricate than that of a clock. It lives, it breathes, it moves, it expands and contracts, it rises and falls, it gathers, it gives—now here, now there.
Starting from the supposition that life is too subtle, too intangible a thing to have its innermost operations disclosed by the clumsy work of our hands or the dull vision of our eyes, though increased in power a thousandfold, I matched the subtle work of my voice with the subtler of my brain, and thus, undisturbed by any extraneous agency whatever, watched the process by which, first, simple mechanical, then articulated sounds, and finally sounds linked together into speech, are produced. In so doing I traced sounds through the labyrinth of numerous avenues to their original sources—the organism of all our faculties, instead of being confined to their end organs, being widespread over our entire system.
Physiologists as a rule are satisfied with the observation and exposition of phenomena. I have endeavored to explain phenomena. I have gone "behind the returns," as politicians say. I have lifted the mysterious veil, and have obtained glimpses at the process of life. In this manner the voice of the œsophagus was first discovered, which, in logical sequence, has carried me from one discovery to another. Once in the confidence of nature, it freely opened up to me its heart. Comprehending one thing led me on to the comprehension of others.
There is no study which is as fascinating as that pursued by introspection. It is self-compensating in the highest degree; all facts thereby evolved being the logical sequence of others previously ascertained. Or, if not always in sequence, they all fit into the same system; everything that has been ascertained being a stone which was waiting to be placed in a certain niche to fulfil a certain purpose in the construction of a harmonious edifice. There was no waste, no material entirely lost; nor will there be at any future time. If similar studies will be pursued by those specially fitted for the purpose, the time may not be far distant when there will not be an atom of our material existence whose meaning and purpose will not be understood. The laws which I claim to have discovered will assist in this accomplishment, as they are of so broad a nature that they may be said to form the substructure to forces and conditions which are at the very root of our existence. I do not pretend to say that in this little book they have been properly treated, nor that I possess the ability, under the best of circumstances, to thus treat them. I have but stated what has come under my observation, and have stated it in as simple and direct a manner as my instinct and my ability have taught me to state it.
I have been up on Mount Washington to see the sun rise. It was a beautiful picture; still, there were clouds in the way which here and there obscured my vision, as was to be expected from the unwonted height to which I had risen, and the distant horizon.
I am not writing for a class, but for the multitude to which I belong, and of which, in its aspirations, its hopes, its sincerity, and its ignorance regarding specific knowledge, I form a part. Hence my thoughts are its thoughts and my language its language. There will be no difficulty, therefore, for all to understand me and to profit by my experience.