perceptible movement except in connection with his lower jaw. Hence his
stolid immovability in contradistinction with the mobility and vivacity
of a German, whose entire head, often accompanied by his entire body,
appears to take part in his speech. These motions, though fundamental
with these peoples, vary with locality, individual character,
temperament, etc. A German if he keeps his cranium entirely still will
be unable to produce a sound; while an Anglo-Saxon will be unable
to produce a sound if he should move it as Germans do. A German's
power of vocal utterance lies in the flexibility of his cranium; an
Anglo-Saxon's in that of his lower jaw.
An Anglo-Saxon grinds the teeth of his lower jaw, in anger or in
passion, or while masticating food, or under any other circumstances,
against those of his upper; a German grinds those of his upper jaw
against those of the lower.
All motions in connection with vocal utterance on the part of an
Anglo-Saxon are of a decidedly larger compass than those of a German;
the latter being confined to the slight motions he is able to make with
his head, while the former frequently draws down his lower jaw to a
very great extent, far more so than a German would be able to draw down
his.
The "life" with the German is in the upper, with Anglo-Saxons it is
in the lower jaw; the former representing the thorax, the latter the
abdomen. While the thorax, as already mentioned, with Germans is the
predominating vehicle for every performance of life, with Anglo-Saxons
it is the abdomen.
With Germans the lower jaw is the anvil, the upper the hammer; with
Anglo-Saxons the upper is the anvil, the lower the hammer; the action,
the life, always being with the hammer.
If you watch an American girl chewing taffy you will find her lower
jaw going way down, then out, and up again. This is characteristic
of the manner in which Anglo-Saxons breathe and speak. The chewing
process, owing to the adhesion of the taffy to the teeth, together with
the greater flexibility of a girl's jaws, brings out these features
more strikingly than under ordinary circumstances. In chewing taffy
the lower jaw (the hammer) meets with some difficulty in making its
movements; it is therefore lowered as much as possible, so as to be
able to more effectually close in with the upper (the anvil). A German
girl's movements under similar conditions are restricted, being largely
confined to the upper jaw, which cannot be raised to any great extent.
An Anglo-Saxon speaker or singer makes movements similar to such a
chewer of taffy. He draws his lower jaw down and out to make room in
the lower cavity of his mouth for the expression of his main sounds.
These are the product of the abdominal cavity and find their way out
through the œsophagus from _beneath_ the lower surface of the tongue.
Here they pass the replica and the frænum, which impart to them their
rhythmical expression. Any one doubting the correctness of these
statements, by making the replica and the frænum, or either of them,
rigid, will not, if he is an Anglo-Saxon, be able to produce a single
sound; if he is a German, he will still be able to utter his main
sounds coming to the surface through the trachea, over and above his
tongue. An Anglo-Saxon, on the other hand, may still speak when he
makes the vocal cords of the larynx rigid; while a German in that case
will be unable to produce any sound whatsoever. To these matters I have
already called attention in a previous publication, in connection with
the man who was deprived of his larynx by a surgical operation, but not
of his power of speech.
A similar experiment may be made in regard to breathing. By making the
soft palate, representing the thorax, rigid, you will not be able to
inspire, though you may expire. By making the bottom of the mouth close
to your teeth (_the soft palate of the lower jaw_), representing the
abdomen, rigid, you will not be able to expire, though you may inspire.
With a German the precisely opposite facts prevail. By making the soft
palate rigid, he will stop expiration; by making the bottom of the
mouth close to the teeth rigid, he will stop inspiration.
During vocal utterance, with Germans every superior muscle first moves
downward, every inferior upward; while with Anglo-Saxons every superior
muscle first moves upward, every inferior downward. This is preparatory
and previous to action. _During_ action the German opens his mouth, the
Anglo-Saxon closes his. Hence the Anglo-Saxon's half-open mouth while
in repose, and his almost stern expression while in action, pleasurable
action even, which has provoked the witty saying that "Englishmen take
to their pleasures sadly."
The abdomen being the centre of gravity for English speech, and the
lower jaw being in direct communication with the same by way of the
œsophagus, by making the lower jaw rigid you stop the flow of English
sounds. The thorax, on the other hand, being the centre of gravity for
German speech, and the upper jaw being in direct communication with the
same by way of the trachea, in making this jaw rigid you stop the flow
of German sounds.
ROTATION OF CENTRIPETAL AND CENTRIFUGAL ACTION
Speaking of centripetal and centrifugal motion as separate actions,
there must, of course, be a _rotation_ of these actions to produce a
_complete_ action of any kind. We, however, speak of the one which
_prevails_ over the other, as _the_ action under consideration. Thus
when I say a German's mode of eating is centripetal, I say so because
the action of his jaws being direct, it is first centrifugal, then
centripetal, then centrifugal, then again centripetal. When I say an
Anglo-Saxon's mode is centrifugal, I say so because the action of his
jaws being indirect, it is first centripetal, then centrifugal, then
centripetal, then again centrifugal, and finally once more centripetal.
This, with a German, of course, means: Open, close, open, close.
With an Anglo-Saxon it means: Close, open, close, open, close. This,
however, only gives the main features of an act of eating, etc., as
well as uttering sounds; any of these acts, in reality, requiring
_eight_ movements to carry on one _complete_ act. When centrifugal
prevails centripetal follows, and when centripetal prevails centrifugal
follows. It stands to reason that an action which is composed of open,
close, open, close, or close, open, close, open, close, cannot continue
in the same rotation indefinitely, but must be complemented by a motion
of the opposite nature; such complementary action, however, always
being executed inwardly and not outwardly. While the action of the jaws
just now described precedes mastication, the inner action complementary
thereof is accompanied by the act of swallowing.
Thus with a German there are four movements preceding mastication and
four for swallowing; with an Anglo-Saxon there are five movements for
the former and three for the latter; while the act of mastication
proper with both nations consists of eight movements which are repeated
as often as is necessary for the act of swallowing.
The respective manner in which knives and forks are handled in eating
by Germans and Anglo-Saxons, as well as the different manner in which
they dance, and the characters they use in writing, might be cited as
results of the different modes in which centripetal and centrifugal
actions prevail with them. The characters Germans use in writing being
centrifugal in their nature and those Anglo-Saxons use centripetal,
this can only be accounted for by assuming that the muscular action
preparatory to the act of writing in both instances is of the opposite
nature.
In consequence of the centrifugal movements of their jaws and lips, the
teeth, with English-speaking persons, are always on exhibition; while
the centripetal movement prevailing with Germans conceals them. The
consequence is that English-speaking people pay the utmost attention to
the care and perfection of their teeth, while Germans, in the highest
ranks even, frequently neglect them to an almost shameful degree. The
direct outcome of this state of affairs is the great advancement which
the practice of dentistry has made in this country and in England,
while it is one to which, on the continent of Europe, but comparatively
little attention is being paid.
With English-speaking people, especially the women, whose lips are more
flexible than men's, the teeth of the upper jaw are more frequently
exposed than those of the lower, for this reason: The œsophagus being
the main instrument for English speech, its sounds, in coming to the
surface from beneath the tongue, require the latter to remain in a
semi-raised position most of the time; the upper lip, being in the
way of these sounds coming to the surface, must be raised for the same
reason; in so doing it exposes the upper row of teeth. The lower lip
is lowered for the sounds of the trachea for the same reason that the
upper is raised for those of the œsophagus. Whenever the upper lip is
raised the lower must be immediately lowered, and vice versa. With
Anglo-Saxons the main movement is with the upper, with Germans it is
with the lower lip. Owing to the centripetal action with Germans, these
movements are less pronounced than they are with English-speaking
people.
The act of smiling being produced in the same order as that of
speaking, the same conditions prevail in relation to the same.
In speaking English you can "feel" that the upper lip is the main
vehicle; _it has all the life in it_. In speaking German you can "feel"
it is the lower, which for that language possesses the life. If you
make the former rigid you cannot speak English; if you make the latter
rigid you cannot speak German.
In connection with the movements of the lips it will be noticed that
while the upper jaw and the roof of the mouth are dominated by the
trachea and the thorax, and the lower jaw and the bottom of the mouth
by the œsophagus and the abdomen, the upper lip is dominated by the
sounds of the œsophagus, and the lower by those of the trachea. This,
however, is owing to mechanical reasons only, as explained, and not to
vital causes.
The foreigner who learns to speak the English language ever so well,
though he may reside here almost a lifetime, if he does not learn
to speak it _idiomatically_ correct, will not be influenced by it to
any great extent in any of the various manners of which I have made
mention, either as regards his features, character, habits, motions,
thoughts, etc.; but, in spite of his "English," he will still be a
foreigner. This foreigner's children, however, provided he does not
influence them to the contrary through pride of his native tongue, and
if reared under native influences, will become thorough Americans.
There need be no fear, therefore, that immigration might bring to
this country a permanent foreign element. Such elements, when they do
come, are of a passing nature. Their offspring, in passing the crucial
test of the English tongue, sink the foreigner into the all-absorbing
element of the English idiom; and in so doing are merged into and
become an integral part of the people of this country. They may come
of whatever nation, from whatever land; no matter how they may appear,
act, or speak, the English idiom will continue to make them Americans,
in their children at least, in the future as it has in the past.
There is thus in the centrifugal force which dominates the speech of
Anglo-Saxons that which is a safeguard to the homogeneity as well as
the institutions of this nation.
An Anglo-Saxon cannot be a bondsman; his language forbids it. The
centrifugal force which prevails with him does not permit fetters. The
children of all foreigners born here and speaking the English language
come under its spell. If language did not have this supreme influence,
there is no other influence that would have prevented this country long
ago from having become inhabited in special districts with permanent
groups of people foreign to its aims and institutions, and alien to its
genius, its character, and its customs. In districts where German is
spoken as the principal language, as in some parts of Pennsylvania and
Wisconsin, it is not, with the native-born at least, the pure German
language, but its idiomatic expression is that of the English tongue.
People say, "It is the climate." We have every climate under the sun;
yet in all that is essential the man from Maine is as thoroughly
American as the one from Texas; the gold-digger in the frozen regions
of the Yukon as the man of the orange-groves of Florida or California;
the American fisherman on the Banks of Newfoundland as those on the
Gulf of Mexico; the man who battles on the plains against the Indians
as he who serves under the banner of the Republic and upholds its glory
in foreign lands and seas. You can tell an American the moment you look
at him. Yet if you ask some of them where their parents were born, you
will hear strange tales of lands and peoples across the sea and far
away.
Language does not work _every_ wonder, of course. The influence of
heredity perpetuates that of language; but the latter is the primary
influence. Nor can it be denied that _every_ foreigner living here
for some time, whether he has learned to speak English or not, will,
to some extent at least, be influenced by the habits, customs,
institutions, climate, and language of this country. This does not
detract, however, from the force of my argument regarding language
and its influence as the most vital force in shaping a people's
characteristic traits, physically as well as spiritually.
There has been of late a great deal of talk and enthusiasm even
regarding the desirability of a closer alliance between the two great
English-speaking nations; their natural affinity and kinship. This
affinity, this belonging together, this being of one family and one
stock, is commonly expressed by this term, "English-speaking peoples."
That which I have endeavored to explain at length is thus tacitly
acknowledged to be correct through the use of this term, which implies
that it is _the English tongue_ which makes these peoples one in
sentiment, in feeling, in their aims and purposes, as it makes them
one in their physical appearance, their motions, the exercise of their
faculties and functions, etc.
[Illustration]
NATIONALITY AND RACE DISTINCTIONS
While the English language makes Americans of all foreigners, it does
not, of course, obliterate race distinctions as long as races continue
to exist as such. Persons of alien races, nevertheless, when born in
this country and reared under native influences, will become "American"
in a truer sense than foreigners belonging to the Caucasian race coming
here at maturity. I dare say Frederick Douglass was truly more of an
American, in all this word implies, than any foreigner who ever came to
live here; and so are all the better classes of native-born negroes,
in a certain sense, more truly American, this indescribable something
which constitutes a nation, than any aliens whosoever.
A gentleman once told me that, travelling on a steamboat on one of
the New England rivers, he had been inadvertently listening to a
conversation carried on behind him, between what seemed to be two New
England farmers. On rising from his seat, he saw that one of the men
was a Chinaman, dressed like the other and conversing precisely as he
did.
Seeing an acquaintance, he pointed out the Chinaman and asked if he
knew who he was.
"That's Jimmy O'Connor; he's from So-and-so."
"I mean the Chinaman."
"Yes, the Chinaman; that's him. You know he was picked up at sea,
when still a baby, by a New Bedford whaler, and was brought up in the
captain's family, who adopted him. He's as good a farmer and as true an
American as you can find anywhere."
These studies are meant to be purely objective, and have no concern
with politics or policies, regarding undesirable immigration,
or issues of a similar nature. But language is nationality, and
nationality language, always, in the first instance; and the purer
a language is spoken, the truer, purer, and better such nationality
will be expressed and represented by those who thus speak it. What an
incentive to aim at the purest and best expression of language, for
any people! But it will be said that language is subject to change.
If it is, so will the people who speak it to some extent change with
it. Such change, however, is in its dress, in words mainly; rarely
and at long intervals, and under very peculiar circumstances only, in
its expression. As a matter of fact, I doubt whether a change of the
_idiomatic expression ever_ takes place.
The difference existing between the English spoken in the United States
and the mother country might be cited as an example. The idiomatic
expression is precisely the same. But the necessary self-reliance of
the first settlers, the privation, the barter and exchange, the vast
extent of the territory of this country, the greater independence
enjoyed by its people, etc., might be named as reasons for the greater
dash and freedom, together with a possible want of culture, as compared
with the language spoken by educated Englishmen, prevailing in its
utterance.
The same influences prevail regarding the general appearance, motions,
and characteristic traits of these respective nations. Though closely
allied and connected in a specific, and very nearly allied to each
other in a general sense, there is that which distinguishes the English
of the old world from those of the new, and which can be easily
recognized.
Being centrifugal, the English idiom, octopus-like, embraces anything
and everything that comes within the radius of its omnivorous capacity,
without, however, losing its original character. It is like a fisherman
who has hung out his net in the ocean, taking in all that comes along;
or like the sea itself, greedy without end. It has no scruples about
roots and construction, but construes everything according to its wants
and adapts it to its uses as it comes along from any quarter.
These adopted children, these waifs, however, it must not be lost
sight of, before they become integral parts of English speech must
submit to a change of their original idiomatic expression. No matter
who came--Celts, Romans, Angles, Saxons, or French--the people of the
British Islands, while adopting their _terms_ of expression, remained
true to their original _idiomatic_ expression. As this country absorbs
people from the whole world and makes one homogeneous American nation
of them, so has the English language absorbed, and is still absorbing,
words from every other people's language, and has transformed them into
one homogeneous language of its own.
Comparative philology, if it wants to accomplish that which would be
most worthy of its efforts, will have to come down to these strong and
basic roots of language.
The German language, whose idiomatic expression is centripetal, on the
other hand, does not possess the same capacity for adopting foreign
words and adapting them to its idiom. When it does adopt them, as,
for instance, those of French origin, they are pronounced, not in the
German, but, as far as the German people are capable of so doing, in
the French manner. They could not, in fact, be pronounced in the German
manner, the German language being a close corporation, so to say, which
does not admit of any foreign shareholders; while the English language
is a company open to all comers. While it is the endeavor of Germans
to _purify_ their language by expelling as far as possible any foreign
word and element therefrom, Anglo-Saxons are constantly adopting
new words from foreign languages. It would be equal to the labor of
Sisyphus for Anglo-Saxons to endeavor to purify their language from
foreign words, in the same sense that Germans are attempting to purify
theirs.
It appears to me that the capacity of England for successful
colonization is largely due to the centrifugal force inherent in its
language, while the want of success of Germany for the same purpose is
due to the absence of this force. Anglo-Saxon government tends toward
decentralization, German toward centralization. I say this in spite of
the fact that Germany is still divided into many principalities; the
fact of its adherence to this undesirable condition being a proof of
the correctness of this assertion rather than otherwise--Germans not
being able to readily get out of that in which they are once rooted. In
regard to governing peoples in distant territories or colonies, this
tendency is of importance. English government, being undemonstrative,
is more effective than German, which is demonstrative, meddlesome,
and therefore offensive; the former being material and practical, the
latter immaterial and inclined to be visionary.
In a word, where are we to find explanations regarding national traits
of character except through inner motive powers, productive of results
individual as well as national? There is no factor which exercises an
influence upon a nation as a unit so wide in extent and of so powerful
a nature as that of language. It is the _only_ motive power, in fact,
which every member of a nation shares with every other member thereof,
but not with any member of any foreign nation.
IDIOMATIC EXPRESSION
Although it is a well known fact that every language has an idiomatic
expression, an intonation of its own, I am not aware of any attempt
ever having been made at definitely stating what such expression,
or intonation, really consists in; and in what respect it differs,
as between one language and another. Yet this fact should be the
most important of all in connection with ethnological studies. It is
necessary to know what a people's idiomatic expression is before we can
begin to make a study of its language, in comparison with that of any
other people, by which we may expect to arrive at conclusions of any
real value in an ethnological sense.
In comparison with idiomatic expression, the study of the roots of
words and their derivation, it appears to me, is of but secondary
importance; idiomatic expression being the _kernel_ in which the tree
of national expression had its incipiency, its origin. It is the
life which pulsates through its veins, in which it has its stay and
maintenance; the nerves which tingle with its intelligence, its genius,
its soul. Take away this soul, and it ceases to exist. For every
language there must have been a strong impulse making an impression
before there could have been any expression at all. This impulse must
have been of so powerful and continuous a nature as to have left its
impression upon the minds of a sufficiently large number of people to
form the nucleus for the expression of a specific language, and, in so
doing, constituting such people a nation.
I have already stated that it is _motion_ in the first instance which
superinduces a specific mode of breathing and consequent expression. It
is to motion, then, that we must ascribe the first impulse. Such motion
may have been active as to defense against enemies, wild beasts, or
the elements; or it may have been passive, consisting of the continuous
noise produced by the motion of the sea, tempests, or thunder-storms,
making a great and lasting impression. Then, again, the influence may
have been of a peaceful, balmy, beneficial nature, as with people
living in security, in a mild climate and on fertile lands. The
stronger the expression of these movements, the stronger the impression
they made and the more powerful the expression of the language; the
softer and more harmonious their expression, the softer and the more
rhythmical the expression of the language. These influences made their
first impression by superinducing a mode of breathing in conformity
therewith.