` ´ ` ´
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.