Chapter IV: Part 4

A stutterer, whose tongue is running away with him, owing to an insufficiency of ballast, must take in enough (inspire sufficiently) to bring him back to his point of gravitation. _His tongue is in a loose state of elevation, in which position the air is constantly streaming out (expiring) from beneath the same._ He must _lower_ it to have _his_ balance restored, as in so doing the air will stream in over and above the tongue until the equilibrium has been restored. In other words, the person who is thus agitated must calm himself, he must relax from an overstrain in either one direction or the other. The diaphragm, holding the balance of power, will be found to be in as uncontrollable a condition as the tongue, _with which it always acts in unison_. In restoring the tongue to a normal condition we restore the diaphragm to a normal condition.

The institutions for the cure of stuttering, stammering, and intermediate stages of the same trouble, attempt to bring about a state of restoration of the disturbed balance by means arrived at through experience. The real cause being unknown, the remedies must necessarily be restricted. If persons thus afflicted will take their own cases in hand and treat them in conformity with the precepts here laid down, the chances are in favor of their being cured where no other remedy had been of any avail.

As the preceding remarks have been made from the point of view of an English-speaking person, the standpoint of a German being diametrically opposite, the same must all be reversed to fit the case of a German, in so far as locality is concerned. _For stammering, the tongue of a German is closely wedged in, in the direction of the roof of the mouth; for stuttering, it is loosely pointing downward._ This is owing to the fact that a German inspires from under and beneath, and expires from over and above, his tongue; just the reverse of the manner in which this is done by an English-speaking person.

In order to efficiently cure the trouble of stuttering, it is necessary that the act of breathing and sound-production should be closely studied with every separate nationality, as these processes differ with all nationalities; this difference being very pronounced as between Germans and Anglo-Saxons. For an American to go to Germany, therefore, to be cured of this trouble, is as false a step as for a German to go to the United States or England for this purpose.

While I have in the preceding endeavored to give an account of the general causes which result in stuttering, I have not touched upon such special causes as are directly connected with the character and origin of vocal sounds; the explanation of which must be postponed to a future period.

THE CATHODE OF A VOCAL SOUND

By an accident, in some respects not unlike the one which drew Roentgen's attention to the light by whose aid we have learned to look into and through opaque bodies, I (myself an accident, an appearance on and soon to be a disappearance from the illuminated surface of the earth) have discovered eternal laws, by whose aid we shall be able to comprehend much of what has heretofore been as a closed book to us, regarding our physical and psychical nature and the exercise of our faculties and functions.

During my endeavors to overcome the difficulties which my German tongue offered to the perfect pronunciation of the English "r" sound, and during an almost frantic effort on one occasion at so doing, I was amazed by the fact that while one "r" came to the surface from over and above the tongue, another made its appearance from under and beneath the same. The latter was the "r" of the voice of the œsophagus. Of all this, however, I have spoken at length in my previous publication.

Though it occurred to me at once like a flash that this was a revelation of the greatest importance, its real significance was only made clear to me in the course of time. No matter how I view it, as time progresses it assumes greater and greater proportions. There is no event in the history of man which appears to me to be of greater significance. Through this "accident" I was induced to look closer and closer into my inner nature, where, to my amazement, I found that a world, apparently silent and mysterious, and supposed to be unapproachable, was the abode of numberless physical and psychical phenomena, clearly defined and definable.

The "r" which came to the surface from beneath my tongue by way of the œsophagus was the cathode, the negative end of this sound. The _product_ of its combination with the _simple_ "r" (which came to the surface from over and above the tongue by way of the trachea) I had hitherto produced when attempting to speak English, was the _vocal_ "r" sound of the English language; the "r" I had hitherto produced having been the anode--the positive and first part of this sound only. As Roentgen's cathodic light has illuminated the physical body, so have cathodic sounds illumined for me the spiritual body of my mundane existence. I am endeavoring to show my fellowmen this "new light," whose lustre, also invisible on ordinary occasions, when once seen is so great that it will never again fade from the memory of the beholder. As time progresses, it will continue to penetrate ever more deeply into regions hitherto considered to be impervious to any kind of light; regions whose phenomena have been called supernatural, or, at least, beyond the sphere of the knowledge of man. All other anodes or cathodes of which we have obtained any knowledge belong to physical phenomena only. The cathode I have discovered belongs to our spiritual life, being a part of a living vocal sound.

Think of it! To be able to divide the essence of life and to obtain two _living_ parts, each endowed with a life of its own! This is a nearer approach to the knowledge of life than any ever attained before. A _vocal_ sound is an entity. From entities we cannot learn anything. They are phenomena complete in themselves. Regarding their innermost nature, they have always been to us as a closed book. They offer us no vantage-ground; no opening, no breach, through which we can enter into the mysterious process of their existence. No matter whether such life or existence be that of the minutest parasite of a minute vegetable growth, that growth itself, or the giant of the forest; whether it be that of a microbe or the microbe of a microbe; whether it be the essence of a thought, a sigh, a tear, a look, a vocal sound, or of a human being--their innermost natures are all alike mysterious to us. I have succeeded in analyzing a vocal sound, and this apparently simple proceeding has opened up to me endless vistas in endless directions. I have reduced this entity into its natural elements, and have again put these together. After resolving it into two lives I have again formed it into one. I can bring about this analysis as well as this synthesis at will at any time.

All know what is meant by vocal sounds, yet few, I repeat, know what are simple sounds, though constantly used by everybody while whispering or uttering exclamations, while surprised, alarmed, frightened, etc. My accomplishment, therefore, is but the _recognition_ of the nature of a thing constantly before us and brought to our consciousness through our ear.

Simple sounds are the anodes, the beginnings of sounds. There is no life in them, no rhythm, no melody, no light, no grace, no beauty. These are imparted to them by the fusion of the cathode element of vocal sounds with this, the anode; the spiritual with the material. The anode is formed first. It is the passive element, the female, the patient, the waiting, which must have been before the male, the impatient, the aggressive. The thing to be fructified must have been before that which fructifies.

The anode is quiescent until the cathode comes along, joins it, and infuses life into it. The creation of a vocal sound is an act of generation. The cathode, after overwhelming the anode, penetrates it and diffuses itself throughout it, and thus forms a union whose result is the production of a vocal sound. Similar unions between anodes and cathodes are formed a myriad-fold every moment during time's progress, and result in the creation of an electric spark, or a succession of sparks, called an electric light, or any other light or fire, or of a thought, or of the embryo to a new life of any and every description, etc.; while a discord, a stutter, a _smouldering_ fire, the sight of a thing too dimly seen to be recognized, a cut or broken limb, a suspense, a disappointment, a _suppressed_ action or passion, etc., are anodes not joined by their cathodes. By the juncture of a cathode with an anode we exercise our faculties, we become conscious of a sight, a sound, an odor, a taste, etc.; the anode being vested in the thing to be seen, heard, smelled, or tasted,--the cathode in ourselves.

_While the anode of a vocal sound may be uttered audibly, the cathode, by itself, cannot be uttered--the spiritual cannot be materialized except in conjunction with the material._ The anode, the physical, is inert until the cathode, the spiritual, has formed a juncture with it, has been alloyed with it. Every phenomenon of which we become conscious is the result of a process of this nature. The more perfect the union, the more perfect the outcome or result, the phenomenon.

In our ordinary speech this alloy, this union, is of a mutable and evanescent, in oratory and song it is of a more continuous and lasting, nature. With persons speaking a foreign tongue, and with the deaf, it is superficial, imperfect; in many cases, in fact, we hear only anodes, no union having been effected. The amalgamation, the alloy of the finer with the coarser, the higher with the lower, the spiritual with the material, is not at all or but imperfectly performed; the coarser element prevails and makes its presence felt in every utterance. The more perfect the union between anodes and cathodes in vocal utterance, the higher will be the performance, the more perfect the speech, the more beautiful the song, the more stirring, the more soulful; the nearer they come to our hearts.

How do I know all this? I will tell you: By watching the _beginning_ of a vocal sound; the performance actually going on within us, while such sound is first being created. This performance is of an inverse order as between German and English, in so far as the anode for German vocal sounds is located to the right, the cathode to the left. The cathode approaches the anode from left to right; while in the creation of an English vocal sound the anode is to the left, the cathode to the right, and the latter approaches the former from right to left. The location where the union _appears_ to take place is in the chest, near the heart; for German sounds, to the right thereof, for English to the left. As a matter of fact, however, it is in the heart itself.

What does the motion in which anode and cathode approach each other--which is not direct as it at first appears to the observer, but vastly circuitous--signify?

The circulation through the vascular system of the elements (of the æther) creating vocal sounds, or the _circulation of vocal sounds_. The proofs that this important fact actually obtains will be furnished very positively and very circumstantially at a later date in connection with that part of these expositions which treats on vocal sounds.

OUR MOTHER TONGUE

Nature will have its right always. What is this right in regard to vocal utterance? It is the manner in which we breathe. When we violate nature's right in our mode of breathing for vocal expression, our penalty is that such expression will not be what it is intended to be, what it should be; the idiomatic expression of every language being the outcome of a special mode of breathing for the same.

_All_ my observations in the first instance owe their origin to the fact that I was breathing in a manner directly opposite to the one in which it was necessary for me to breathe to correctly produce the idiomatic expression of the English language. It was not until after this fact had become clear to my mind that I began to extract from my organs of speech those sounds which appear so abnormally different and "strange" to the ear of the bewildered foreigner, who finds himself completely at a loss how to produce them. The better he becomes acquainted with the language, the more thoroughly he becomes convinced of the fact that his mode of speaking English is different from that of the native-born. Nor will a German _ever_ succeed in speaking English as it should be spoken until he succeeds in _reversing_ his mode of breathing. He must go straight to the antipodes in sound production; he must stand on his head, so to say, instead of on his feet. I shall fully explain what this means later on.

I venture to make the assertion that no other person besides myself has ever learned to pronounce a foreign language _idiomatically correct_, as I have, by means of applying to his mode of speaking rules based on actual knowledge or scientific principles. In this manner I have succeeded in learning to speak English with less of the tinge of a foreign accent adhering to my speech than usually is the case with foreigners who have commenced to speak it as late in life as I did. I do not say this vauntingly, for I do not consider this accomplishment in itself as of a very high order; but I say it to vindicate my claim that I have discovered the principles on which the production of language is based, and offer my personal pronunciation of the English language to which these principles have been applied as a proof that I have done so. I am still learning, however, for it takes time and practice and a great deal of patience to dislodge the old habit from its wonted haunts and to assign its quarters to a foreign guest. My old familiar dwelling has thus become a lodging for the English language, though I can return to it at will with my old and dearly beloved mother tongue and be comfortable therein.

The foreign guest, however, who came to dwell therein, does not use 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.

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