my native home, in his mode of entering it or going forth from it, in
the old familiar way, nor does he use the same apartments for the
same purposes. He enters at the back gate while I used to enter at
the front; he leaves it at the front gate while I left at the back.
He opens his shutters to the east, while I used to look out from the
west, etc. Such differences as these in our mode of breathing exist
throughout the entire length and breadth of both languages. The sounds
we have imbibed in our early youth, however, will always be more
familiar and nearer to us and dearer than those of any other language,
no matter how closely the latter may enter into our lives and our being
at a later period.
NATIONAL TRAITS OF CHARACTER
What constitutes a given number of people a nation, besides their
history, their political organization, and the geographical position of
their territory? What makes every member belonging to a nation, whether
he lives within its territory or has emigrated therefrom, a different
being from every member of any other nation? What makes each member of
a nation resemble every other member thereof, not only in regard to
vocal expression but also in regard to general cast of features, build
of body, movements, gesticulations, etc., and in what may be summed up
as national traits of character?
No one will deny the fact that such differences exist, as between
Germans, Frenchmen, and Englishmen, for instance. This difference is
not racial, as they all belong to the Caucasian race. It can scarcely
be climatic with nations whose territory is adjacent to each other;
nor is it likely to be religious, historical, or political. There is
nothing very decidedly different in the situation and composition of
these various nations and the individuals of which they are composed,
except their _language_.
I maintain that language is not only the main point of difference, but
that it is the cause and origin of all other main points of difference.
As language is the main gift which distinguishes men from animals, so
it is also the principal distinguishing mark as between one nation
and another. I maintain, and expect to prove, that the language--that
is, any specific language--acquired in childhood becomes an integral
part of a person's organization, as positively so as any of his other
natural faculties; and that he cannot change it, that is, _in an
idiomatically correct manner_, without changing, to some extent, the
drift of his entire organism. As soon as I began to succeed in speaking
the English language as it is spoken in this country, idiomatically
correct, I changed my nature, to some extent, from that of a German to
that of an American; nor is it possible to learn to speak any language
idiomatically correct without undergoing a similar change. Not alone
my mode of vocal expression, but my motions, my habits, nay, my very
_features_, yes, even my way of _thinking_, in some respects, have
been subjected to such a change; modified, of course, by heredity,
previous habits, and the constant reversion of all this by the frequent
recurrence to my native tongue. In using the term "idiomatically
correct" I mean of course that mode of expression which is peculiar to
a language, its general cast, and which is representative of its genius
and spirit.
To what do I attribute so powerful an influence?
It is not easy to say this comprehensively in a few words. I will
say this much, however: That, language being the outcome of streams
of the vital fluid passing into and out of our composition in a
systematic manner, each system varying with every other system, our
vital organs are differently affected, in conformity with the manner
and the rotation in which these streams reach these different organs;
in other words, in conformity with the manner in which we breathe for
our language. This influence is not confined to the vocal expression
of a _nation_. It is influential with and extends to the special mode
of vocal expression in separate districts, provinces, localities, and
cities; nay, it extends to families and single members belonging to
such families, each separate member's expression being the product of
his special mode of breathing, and differing in some respects from that
of every other member of the same family; _such difference in the mode
of breathing being the reflection of every individual soul_.
The bent of the soul in _individual_ cases determines the flow of these
streams, the same as the bent of the _national_ soul determines the
same for the entire nation. Or, which perhaps would be more correct,
the flow of these streams determines the bent of the individual as
well as national soul. The influence being reciprocal, it would be
difficult to state, as it is with all matters of this kind, _which_
preponderates, _which_ gives the first impulse. It is of the same
order as the old question (never to be solved) aptly expressed in the
homely query, "Which was created first, the hen or the egg?"
It is interesting to note the manner in which the vital streams
affecting the character of the two peoples in regard to whom I have
had the opportunity for many years of making my observations, the
Anglo-Saxon and the German, take their course. With the former the
point of gravitation is located in the abdomen; with the latter in the
thorax.
This gives the Anglo-Saxon a circuitous route for his expression in
coming to the surface; his mode of respiration being the following:
He inspires into the thorax posteriorly, next into the abdomen
anteriorly. He then expires from the abdomen posteriorly, and from the
thorax anteriorly; vocal expression accompanying the last movement.
A German's mode of respiration is as follows: He inspires into
the abdomen posteriorly, expiring from the abdomen anteriorly; he
then inspires into the thorax anteriorly and expires from the same
posteriorly, the latter movement only being accompanied by sound. You
will notice that in the former case the breath to be expired and to
be accompanied by sound has been held in the thorax until the abdomen
has gone through an inspiration and an expiration; while with Germans,
inspiration into the abdomen as well as into the thorax are succeeded
by expiration from the same, a direct proceeding as against the
indirect of the Anglo-Saxon. Thus the former secures a force reserved
and held and to be drawn upon as it is needed, while the latter
pours forth his vital force in a continuous stream as soon as it is
engendered.
The point of gravitation determines the mode of breathing and the
production of vocal utterance. With Anglo-Saxons, the point of
gravitation being located in the abdomen, their speech tends from
below, upward; with Germans, the point of gravitation being located
in the thorax, their speech tends from above, downward. The direction
of Anglo-Saxon expression is from the abdomen, where it has its root,
to the thorax; that of the German is from the thorax, where it has
its root, to the abdomen. It will scarcely be necessary for me to say
to the reader, over and over again, "Try this," "Try that"; I wish
it to be understood, once for all, that this recommendation is to be
tacitly implied as accompanying every statement, every proposition,
every assertion I make. Personally I can go through any one and all of
the performances at any time and at a moment's notice. In making these
experiments, speak or sing _after_ breathing in the prescribed manner.
The prescribed manner being the one in which the _impression_ is made
and from which the _expression_ is produced as a matter of course and
of necessity. An Anglo-Saxon will not be able to utter a word spoken
or sung in _his_ language after breathing in the _German_ fashion, nor
will a German be able to do so in _his_ language after breathing in
the _Anglo-Saxon_ manner. Change either manner of breathing but in the
least, and you will not be able to express yourself in either German or
English; but you may thus be able to express yourself in some other
language. It is, of course, understood that we breathe into the abdomen
through the œsophagus, into the thorax through the trachea.
In trying propositions like the one now under consideration, it may
not be easy for persons who have not previously given any thought to
matters of this kind to successfully try them. You must give yourself
up to these things, must be _at home_ for them only, for a period at
least, until you have become thoroughly engrossed with them. It is not
a study to be superficially attained. You must enter into it with your
whole soul, your entire being. If you do, you will eventually become as
familiar with the principles underlying these matters as you are with
the letters of the alphabet, or the figures representing the numerals,
and be able to apply the same in as easy a manner and for as various
purposes as you do these.
Their _indirect_ mode of breathing of Anglo-Saxons produces a
deliberate mode of speech; while German breathing, being _direct_,
produces a speech as rapid in its formation as in its utterance.
_Action being the counterpoise of speech, is of the inverse order of
the latter. English speech being slow and deliberate, English action is
rapid and direct; German speech being rapid and direct, German action
is slow and deliberate._ English character, the same as English speech,
is distinguished by patience and forbearance; these, when finally
exhausted, are succeeded by sudden and violent outbreaks. German
character, the same as German speech, is alternately exuberant and
depressed; contented, but also of a disposition to find fault whenever
the occasion may arise.
Anglo-Saxons, in consequence of their _indirect_ mode of expression,
are in possession of a reserve force always at their command, but only
called upon on special occasions; hence long-continued forbearance,
and then--a blow for liberty. With Germans, in consequence of their
_direct_ mode of expression, their vital force is continuously being
engendered, and as continuously being exhausted. Hence, they are in the
habit of constantly protesting, and as constantly submitting to the
_status quo_.
The character of Anglo-Saxons, in viewing things from a practical
standpoint, is as far removed from the ideal as it is from the
pessimistic. It is neither exuberant, overstrained, exalted, nor
despondent; but cool, well balanced, and matter-of-fact. It is not like
the German:
"Himmelhoch jauchzen, zu Tode betruebt."
("Raised to the sky with delight;
Depressed to the ground with despair.")
A German is influenced according to whether he can or cannot, while
losing sight of the real, satisfy his craving for the ideal, for
which, in his direct and impulsive nature, he is constantly yearning;
which the Anglo-Saxon, seeing it is beyond his reach, abandons as
impracticable.
To comprehend the ideal of whatsoever nature, the German, with
endless patience, tries to solve the most complicated problems; after
solving them he is often satisfied with the result in the abstract;
while the practical Anglo-Saxon uses this result for his utilitarian
purposes. The philosophical German patiently unravels a Gordian knot;
the practical Anglo-Saxon, "Alexander-like, cuts it in two with his
sword" ("Wie Alexander haut ihn auseinander"). Germans love education
for its own sake; it makes of them superior beings, giving them
treasures more highly prized than any others, and far more lasting.
Anglo-Saxons, on the other hand, get their education for a purpose, and
with a view to their worldly advancement. While with Germans education
is "Selbstzweck" (its reward consisting in its possession), with
Anglo-Saxons its reward consists in its application. The question so
often agitated in this country, whether a university education may or
may not be of benefit (that is, in furthering his worldly advancement)
to any one not intending to embrace one of the learned professions,
would never arise in Germany; practical value and education being
things apart, the latter taking first rank always and never being
subordinated to the former.
Schiller says:
"[Der Edle] _legt_ das Hohe in das Leben,
Doch er sucht es nicht darin."
("[Our aim should be] the noble to inculcate into life,
And not to search for it therein.")
I am inclined to think that the opposite of this is the usual tendency
with Anglo-Saxons.
Many other causes might be cited, many other results. These, however,
must answer the present purpose, which is, to show that the course
taken by the vital streams in breathing, besides affecting their
speech, affects the _character_ of nations.
All this might be summed up in saying: The point of gravitation with
Anglo-Saxons being located in the abdomen, which represents the
material side of life, their being is primarily rooted in the material,
and reaches the ideal by way of the material. The German, on the other
hand, having his point of gravitation in the thorax, which represents
the spiritual part of our existence, reaches the material by way of the
ideal, in which _his_ being is primarily rooted.
I owe the reader an apology for anticipating in using the terms
"streams of life" and "the point of gravitation." These are not words
without a definite meaning, however; on the contrary, they are of the
greatest significance and of a very definite meaning. Still, I must tax
his patience for a proper explanation thereof till I shall be able to
reach them in due course of time. We cannot approach the steep crest of
a hill by a straight line of ascent, but must patiently wind around and
around its circumference to be able to finally reach its summit.
THE AMERICAN NATION
It will require but a single example, familiar to all, to still more
forcibly show that it is _language_ through whose agency national
traits of character and physical development are produced. How do you
suppose that the wonder has been wrought, and is still daily being
worked, of the great mass of humanity reaching these shores from
foreign lands being merged into one homogeneous nation? The remark is
often made that "it is the climate." If it were the climate, or other
conditions specifically belonging to this country, how is it that
foreigners coming here at maturity always remain foreigners, while
their offspring born and bred here become Americans? Even children born
elsewhere, but coming here at an early age, soon become "Americanized,"
while their parents remain foreigners always. These children must have
taken a potent draught, not partaken of by their parents, to not only
change their mode of vocal but also of physical expression; nay, the
vital expression of their entire being. That draught is the English
language. Most foreigners respectively married to an American wife or
husband, and rearing a family of American children, remain foreigners
to the end of their lives.
It often happens that parents of foreign birth cannot comprehend the
character and actions of their own children, who are _so_ different,
being superficial and frivolous, where they are deep and sound; cool
and calculating where they are fire and flame. Yet these children
possess sterling qualities of another kind which their parents do not
possess.
I call to mind two brothers, sons of German parents, born in this
country. With the eldest-born the German influence was potent. He was
made to speak German at home and at school, and is to-day, though
married to an American, more German in his manner and appearance
than American, while his mode of speaking the English language also
has something "German" in it. His brother, on the other hand, more
particularly reared under native influences, is a thorough American.
There was nothing in this case but the influence of language which
could have caused this difference. Similar examples might be cited
endlessly.
If language is capable of exercising so powerful an influence it
must be more than a superficial acquirement. It must be woven into
and interwoven with our innermost nature. What is there in the
English language to make a German's broad and massive forehead, high
cheek-bones, full lips, short chin, and round face, in his offspring
sink into narrow forms and long, oval lines? What makes the lower
jaw, which in him was short and round, in these children sink down
and extend outward, while the upper jaw recedes back? What is it that
makes the jovial and happy expression of the German in his children
change into features of an impassive nature, from which they are only
roused when in action?--features of which it has been said that it is
sometimes difficult to know whether they, sphinx-like, cover a happy
or unhappy disposition; a disposition sometimes so self-possessed and
reserved that its owner might almost reply as Alva did, when asked why
he never smiled: "I would not so demean myself before myself as to
smile." Yet when such a face (especially when it is a girl's) _does_
smile, its passive features are lighted up in a manner so enchanting
that its beauty amply compensates for its previous apathy.
I do not wish to say, however, that Anglo-Saxons do not _feel_ either
joy or sorrow as keenly as Germans do (though I have my doubts even
on this score); but they do not carry their feelings with them on
the surface. They sink them into that reserve, at once proud and
self-possessed, which does not wish others to take cognizance of their
private affairs. The nature of the Anglo-Saxon is one of _reserve_,
that of the German one of _abandon_ and _laisser-aller_. This is
not due to heredity in the first instance, but to the influence of
language, by which character and habits are formed.
Dr. Holmes relates that, after a protracted search for his son, who
had been wounded in the battle of Gettysburg, when at last finding the
"Captain" in a transport train, he went up to him, simply saying, "How
are you, Bob?" and he replying, "How are you, Dad?"--stating at the
same time, "Such is the force of our national habit that, especially in
the presence of strangers, we suppress the impulse of our most ardent
feelings," or words to that effect. A similar proceeding under such
circumstances would be considered "unnatural" among Germans.
Regarding the change of features, as between foreign-born (German)
parents and their English-speaking offspring, by which the latter's
assume a shape which makes the œsophagus predominate over the trachea,
it will be as impossible for these children to speak _idiomatically
correct_ German as it is for their parents, with whom the trachea
predominates over the œsophagus, to speak idiomatically correct
English. When my features assume the proper shape for English speech, I
cannot produce a single correct German sound, and when they assume the
proper shape for German speech, it is as impossible for me to produce a
correct English sound.
I expect that this statement will be hotly disputed. The measure of
our ordinary mode of listening, however, must not be applied to these
matters. In some rare instances the difference is so slight that it
takes a very acute ear to notice it.
CENTRIPETAL AND CENTRIFUGAL
While speaking our native tongue our muscles move, our sinews tend,
our vessels lean, _our_ blood throbs, and our nerves tingle with the
essence of our language in _its_ direction, and not in the direction
of any other language. We not only speak and sing our language, but we
gesticulate it, we walk it, dance it, write it, think it, smile it,
and sorrow in it. Everything we do is done differently from the same
thing done by a person speaking another language. The movements of the
muscles of a German are centripetal, while those of an Anglo-Saxon
are centrifugal. With a German they close in around the mouth; with
an Anglo-Saxon they depart from the mouth upward and downward. Hence
the broad features of the German _versus_ the elongated ones of the
Anglo-Saxon. Look at the old people. The centrifugal action with an
Anglo-Saxon even in old age still leaves his form erect, his face
serene, scarcely showing a wrinkle, either on his forehead, his
cheeks, or around the eyes and mouth. Apart from his bleached hair,
he frequently retains a quite youthful appearance. The centripetal
action with a German in old age, on the other hand, has a tendency to
bend his form and draw it together, and to shrivel up his skin into
innumerable wrinkles, so that his mouth often resembles the mouth
of a purse drawn close together. This youthful appearance with aged
English-speaking people reflects on their customs and their costume,
which latter retains much of the tidiness of their younger days.
Germans, on the other hand, age soon. This fact is so apparent that
they conform their habits and general appearance to their age. They
feel old, and unhesitatingly submit to their aged condition. They often
appear old when still comparatively young. English-speaking old people,
on the other hand, are never too old not to wish to appear young. For
the terms "Greis" and "Greisin," which imply a weakened and somewhat
helpless condition, there is no corresponding expression in the English
language.
Observe a gang of laborers carrying a heavy log. If there are Germans
among them, their heads and shoulders will be bent, as well as their
knees, resembling caryatides in Gothic churches. _They carry from
below, upward._ Those who speak English, on the other hand, will walk
with heads erect, straight shoulders, and stiff knees, resembling the
caryatides of the Greek temples. _They carry from above, downward._
The German mode of expression is produced by contraction, expansion,
contraction; the English by expansion, contraction, expansion. For
the former, contraction takes place _towards_ the diaphragm, first
upward and then downward; that is, from the feet upward, and then from
the head downward. For the latter, expansion takes place _from_ the
diaphragm, first upward and then downward; that is, from the diaphragm
towards the head, and then from the diaphragm towards the feet.
Artists must study these things if they want to get a proper insight
into life, and the action of life, characteristic of different nations.
The simple study of anatomy gives them no clue to these matters.
Everything we do is done differently from the same thing being done
by a person speaking another language. The books on physiology do not
make mention of these matters. They treat all nations alike. They tell
an Englishman that in closing his mouth the muscles of the upper lip
by a direct action are first raised and then lowered, while those of
the lower are first lowered and then raised. As a matter of fact, the
natural tendency with English-speaking people is towards having their
mouths open. In closing the same the lower lip is first raised, then
lowered, the upper is first lowered, then raised, and again lowered;
whereupon the lower lip is raised. This gives three movements to each
lip. The natural tendency with Germans is towards keeping their mouths
closed. To _firmly_ close the same they must raise the upper lip, lower
the lower, lower the upper, and then raise the lower. This gives two
movements to each lip. These motions are _indirect_ with Anglo-Saxons,
with Germans they are _direct_. With Anglo-Saxons the lower jaw is the
main instrument; with Germans it is the upper. With Anglo-Saxons the
lower moves up to the upper; while with Germans the upper closes down
on the lower. That Anglo-Saxons move their lower jaw up to the upper,
to them will appear as a matter of course; yet Germans do not do this;
with them the lower jaw is first raised to be in position to be met by
the upper, the latter being lowered from the atlas by motions made by
the entire upper part of the head.