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.
Duality of Voice · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.