Part 9

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.

During speech the head of an Anglo-Saxon remains impassive; there is no 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.

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."