THE VULGAR VOICE.
WE all judge by appearances. Almost instinctively, perhaps even half-consciously, we make some sort of estimate of the character and condition of all the people we meet. But in speaking of appearance we generally include voice, though in describing a stranger we very commonly do not mention it. For one reason, the inner meaning of a voice is so difficult to convey, though from it we infer more than from the features. What is the vulgar voice ? We all know it when we hear it. All the same, it is not easy to say exactly what is meant by the expression. A vulgar voice may be low or high, or loud or deep. Its possessor may never offend in pronunciation, and may even follow the most approved fashion in the matter of test words, nevertheless his or her voice may prove to an absolute certainty that he or she is a vulgar person. Vulgarity has, of course, very little to do with the vocal chords,—no more, perhaps, than it has with the shape of the face. Certain faces no doubt lend them- selves to interpret the vulgarity of the soul behind ; certain voices are also well fitted to express the sentiments of vulgar people ; but generally speaking neither the form of the face nor the capacities of the throat have anything to do with good breeding. Well-bred people have high foreheads and low foreheads, and long noses and short noses, and large months and small mouths, just like ill-bred people. All the same, there is such a thing as a vulgar face, and there is such a thing as a vulgar voice. The latter, we believe, springs
—like almost all vulgarity, however displayed—chiefly from two causes; an undue love of conspicuousness and an undue fear of the same. To begin with the loud form of the vulgar voice, there is no doubt that it is heard among those who ought to be well bred more often than it used to be. There are a few people who, to quote Mr. Benson's latest heroine, think that "nowadays it is vulgar not to be vulgar." A certain roughness of speech and manner is very much the fashion just lately, and has in itself nothing to do with vulgarity. Nevertheless this fashion has made it very easy for an inward coarseness of fibre to show itself in the voice. There is a tendency now in certain sets to play the social game according to what, if we may borrow a metaphor from football, we may call Rugby rules. Not infrequently some one gets seriously hurt, though no one calls out. A roughness which merely lets off high spirits and makes no one wince, which diffuses a sense of happiness and confidence, and gives an impression of sincerity and complete absence of affectation, is very pleasant, but such a roughness pre- supposes a great deal of tact To come away from a con- versation feeling that one has played very hard, and that every one has been as sensible and as amusing as he or she possibly could, is delightful—if no one hides a wound. Tact is generally the gift of original people ; it is a kind of social genius which cannot be imitated. Unfortunately the larger half of all societies is made up of imitators who adopt the mannerisms and miss the spirit of the gifted few. There is a limit to what can be done by taking pains. Practice never makes perfect. It improves up to a point. A rough manner can be copied by all who try, but not the skill to be gently rough. It is a pity that those who have it should have set a bad fashion and made themselves responsible for so many vulgar voices.
Among the vulgar people who desire to be conspicuous it is necessary to make at least one distinction. There are those—and they are, if we may use a paradoxical phrase, the best bred among the vulgar—to whom self-assertion has become a habit, and has ceased to be self-conscious. They desire to keep themselves before the world, and descend to allowing their smallest doings to be chronicled in the newspapers in order to shock and dazzle that abstract entity, the British public ; but for the notice of any individual or set of indi- viduals outside their own circle they care nothing at all. Like good actors, while they crave the applause of the house they are not occupied in wondering what impression they are making on this or that member of the stalls or dress-circle. They keep their own rules and practise that appearance of lawlessness which is part of their esoteric code. They like that the world should wonder at their antics, but they can never be said to be acting to the address of particular persons. Ill-bred vulgar people, on the other hand—this time we must apologise for redundancy instead of paradox—desire to im- press themselves not so much upon the world at large as upon every individual with whom accident or business brings them into contact. They are never simple in their aims, they cannot speak to one person without desiring at the same time to gain the attention of another, and it is possibly this absence of singleness of motive which gives to their voices a peculiarly false sound. These latter are of course very dis- agreeable people, from whom every sensible man will desire to flee as soon as he hears them speak, and perhaps it is hardly fair that the two subdivisions of the class about whom we are speaking should be mentioned in the same breath. All the same, both sets of people are vulgar, both are actuated by very like motives, and though, no doubt, the wider outlook of the upper division enables them to avoid the more glaring errors of the lower, the one is, after all, but a caricature of the other.
But to turn from the braggarts of vulgarity and consider the cowards. These are generally to be known by a slightly mincing accent and an uneasy production of voice. They are quite determined to be like the people they happen to be among,—that is, if those people are socially above them. As a rule they only succeed in being unlike themselves, by which we mean that they become entirely unnatural. They will accept no social responsibility, and avoid every social difficulty. They never do a small service—without prospect of a quid pro quo, and hang back when seine one else's convenience requires them to come forward. They
will not obey the plain rules of kindness—though these would probably guide them safely through the maze of imaginary" musts" and "must nots " among which they live— for fear of offending the intricate laws of fashion and conven- tionality. They live in constant terror of making themselves conspicuous by a small mistake,—they would rather be over- taken in as mall cruelty. But it may be said that such people as we are describing are not so much vulgar as shy. Now it must be admitted that shyness will sometimes lead its victims outside all the rules of good breeding and make them refuse their obvious social duty, to the immediate dis- comfort of their companions and their own subsequent horror. Shy people and ill-bred people sometimes act alike, because both are self-conscious. Here, again, much may be judged by the voice. A shy voice and a vulgar voice are two very different things. Shyness is very largely a physical peculiarity. Huskiness and constraint may be due to it, but never that tone of affectation which suggests a false refinement and springs from the wish to pretend. The real criminality of shyness is far other than vulgarity. It lies in the fact that one shy person, however unwittingly, lowers the social temperature of those around him, and may render a whole com- pany liable to contract a social chill. Unfortunately for the shy, they commonly get an even worse character than they deserve. Indiscriminate people lump them together not only with the affected, but with that opposite type of person who adds to the infirmity of an awkward manner the vice of an occasional indulgence in insolence. Such men are often defended by their few friends on the ground that they are shy. But the genuinely shy man is never rude except by omission ; it may be a poor defence to make for him, but as a rule he has nct the courage to be.
After all, is there not perhaps something superfine in thus condemning the vulgar voice ? We do not think there is. No one has it but by his own fault. A man or woman may very well show in the voice a lack of original cultivation, and yet not be vulgar. They may speak with a strong provincial accent, and even drop their " h's," and yet not have a vulgar voice. In spite of their faulty method of speech, all who listen to them may know that they are making no bid for attention, and no pretence of any kind. They may be ever so unpolished, but they will laugh at no one's misfortune, and throw cold water on no one's happiness. They are sympathetic people, at leisure from themselves. As such they generally get their due, and are safe from the snubs of all but the most inherently vulgar, even if accident should throw them among those who, from a social point of view, speak with other tongues. Truly, they have nothing to fear in any rank of society, except from fools. A combination of sympathy and dignity excludes the possibility of vulgarity. Those who possess these two qualities have the essential elements of good breeding,—a nice sense of the rights of others, and an absence of all doubt about their own.
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