El más desopilante hater del idioma alemán: Mark Twain

 Mark Twain visitó el castillo de Heidelberg a orillas del Neckar, donde yo y Hölderlin estudiamos y donde hay un mítico personaje liliputense escondido en los toneles de vino llamado italianamente perqueo (¿por qué no?) que aumentaba el complejo de inferioridad de Arthur Koestler a proporciones de catedral porque lo llamaban así sus "altos" compañeros de escuela-

A lo largo de sus 76 años-signados entre 1834 y 1910 por el cometa Halley cuya siguiente aparición en 1986 se llevaría a Borges- Mark Twain se burlaría de muy diversas maneras del purismo alemán en la burocracia y del orgullo estúpido por su ética protestante a su juicio no menos hipócrita que todas las demás.

En "El hombre que corrompió Haydelbourg" la alusión es transparente, acaso mucho más delicioso sea el cuento en el que Noé intenta zarpar desde un puerto alemán y no consigue convencer al aduanero de que no importa carecer de las bengalas reglamentarias: "Va a llover cuarenta días con sus noches" dice el patriarca "¿y eso qué?" contesta el funcionario teutón "acá en Hamburgo llueve muchísimo más que eso".

Autores tan revolucionarios como él, Jonathan Swift o Lewis Carroll siguen siendo tenidos por maestras jardineras lo cual nos permite agradecer que Shakespeare no haya escrito para niños y por otra parte recordar la poderosa imaginación que perdemos.

Como docente de alemán debo decir que lo que sigue no es lo más brillante que ha producido (que a mi juicio es "Cartas desde la Tierra" editado póstumamente, pero Huck es más Bildungsroman que Kim y Don Segundo Sombra y Der Steppenwolf y el Lazarillo de Tormes juntos).

Se trata de una crítica a un idioma todavía hablado por al menos 80 millones de personas en territorio federal, por no mencionar Suiza, Austria, Lichtenstein y todos los amantes de la lengua de Einstein que estamos desparramados por el globo.

Como humorista no veo que sea una proeza dotar de ostranemie a lo que sea y menos que menos reducir al absurdo el oxígeno simbólico de pensadores de la talla de Freud, Marx y Nietzsche por nombrar los "tres maestros de la sospecha" de Ricoeur...Por eso empecé a traducir este divertimento con muy poco entusiasmo y terminé discutiendo con él y confiando en que el lector, la lectora o lo lector no me necesite para entender inglés...confío también en que habrá quien en algún momento me confíe su iniciación en la música de Heine... pero fundamentalmente: comprendí que solo a quien haya aprendido o intentado aprender alemán le divertirá horrores...

todo lo transmisible presupone una experiencia compartida: quizá las palabras del Nazareno referidas a ser el Hijo de Dios no nos persuadan porque todavía no hemos tenido la respectiva experiencia...aunque tal vez solo sea cuestión de domesticar un poco al superyó y reconocer que no salimos de algo tan asqueroso como el protoplasma de la sopa primigenia, ni, si se los mira ahora, haciéndose los navideños, de nuestros padres, tan distintos y que no saben hablar nuestro íntimo idioma divino...

vanidad de vanidades: somos tan raros ante nosotros mismos, que un idioma inentendible puede expresar mejor que el nuestro nuestra diferencia, nuestra unicidad, nuestra especificidad cósmica, el perdón perdón qué grande sos que le llega desde el fantasma de John Lennon al Vaticano por haber firmado el Concordato con el de bigotitos y como reactio papal por haberse creído-desde una asombrada humildad que el Mesías no tuvo-más popular que Jesús.

The Awful German Language

A little learning makes the whole world kin. --Proverbs XXXII, 7.Un poquito de educación vuelve a todo el mundo pariente (Proverbios, XXXII, 7)[me parece que hay una errata-Mark Twain decía que una prescripción médica es un género peligroso porque uno puede morir a causa de una errata- y era kings, al menos eso es lo que decía el sabio Salomón, que un cacho de curtura vuelve a cualquiera rey]

I went often to look at the collection of curiosities in Heidelberg Castle, and one day I surprised

Fui tupido a visitar la colección de rarezas del castillo de Heidelberg y un día sorprendí al guardia

the keeper of it with my German. I spoke entirely in that language. He was greatly interested;

del mismo con mi alemán. Parlé todo en dicho idioma. Flasheó, fripó mal.

and after I had talked a while he said my German was very rare, possibly a "unique"; and

y después de que chamuyé un rato me dijo que mi alemán era muy poco común, que hasta podía tratarse de un "original"

wanted to add it to his museum.

y que quería agregarlo a su museo.
If he had known what it had cost me to acquire my art, he would also have known that it would

Si tuviera idea de lo me había costado la adquisición de mi nuevo talento, sabría también que hubiera arruinado a cualquier coleccionista.

break any collector to buy it.

Harris and I had been hard at work on our German during several weeks at that time, and

Harris y yo estuvimos dándole duro y parejo a nuestro alemán durante una cuantas semanas durante aquel entonces y habíamos hecho un inmenso progreso no exento de dificultades y algunas molestias dado que tres de nuestros profesores murieron en el intento.

although we had made good progress, it had been accomplished under great difficulty and annoyance, for three of our teachers had died in the mean time. A person who has not studied German can form no idea of what a perplexing language it is.

Una persona que no haya estudiado alemán no puede formarse una idea respecto de cuán estrambótico es. No da.
Surely there is not another language that is so slipshod and systemless, and so slippery and elusive to the grasp.

Seguramente no existe otro idioma que sea más anárquico y bardero, farolero y campanudo.

One is washed about in it, hither and thither, in the most helpless way; and when at last he

Uno se ve chupado, abducido, oclusido del modo más ignominioso y cuando a la final te creés

thinks he has captured a rule which offers firm ground to take a rest on amid the general rage

que dedujiste un patrón que te permite pisar sobre suelo firme como para bajar un cambio y relajar

and turmoil of the ten parts of speech, he turns over the page and reads, "Let the pupil make

leés que ajoba de la página reza "Que el alumno tome en cuenta cuidadosamente las siguientes excepciones"

careful note of the following exceptions."

Baja la vista y descubre que hay más excepciones a la regla que veces en la que se cumple, como si Giorgio Agamben y su noción de que el estado de excepción deviene la norma, fuera patente patente, más claro echále agua, porque le tengo mucho respeto al cerdo del obispo y a la palabra empanada....

He runs his eye down and finds that there are more exceptions to the rule than instances of it. So overboard he goes again, to hunt for another Ararat and find another quicksand.

Lucha y se desangra por la fe que lo empecina arrastrándose entre espinas pero se le escurre la montaña buscada como agua entre los dedos de un bimanco...Such has been, and continues to be, my experience. Every time I think I have got one of these four confusing "cases" where I am master of it, a seemingly insignificant preposition intrudes itself into my sentence, clothed with an awful and unsuspected power, and crumbles the ground from under me.

a lo menos, así lo veo yo, por nimo que parezca

For instance, my book inquires after a certain bird--(it is always inquiring after things which are of no sort of no consequence to anybody): "Where is the bird?" Now the answer to this question--according to the book--is that the bird is waiting in the blacksmith shop on account of the rain. Of course no bird would do that, but then you must stick to the book. Very well, I begin to cipher out the German for that answer.

Por ejemplo, mi libro pregunta por cierto pajarraco, porque siempre está enseñándote a decir boludeces que nunca nadie usa en la vida real: ¿a dónde está la ave?. Ahora la respuesta a esta pregunta siempre según el sacrosanto libro es que el irracional está esperando en casa brandon a que amaine la garúa...más vale que ningún tucán haría eso, peor hay que atenerse al libro y asumir que es la papa aunque asemeje fruta.

I begin at the wrong end, necessarily, for that is the German idea. I say to myself, "Regen (rain) is masculine--or maybe it is feminine--or possibly neuter--it is too much trouble to look now. Therefore, it is either der (the) Regen, or die (the) Regen, or das (the) Regen, according to which gender it may turn out to be when I look.

Empiezo por el uin que no es, como no podía ser de otra manera, porque así es la filosofía alemana (¿o por qué Federico el Grande fue el mejor rey de la historia de la humanidad pero empezó queriendo abdicar?). Me digo para mis adentros que "Regen" (precipitación pluvial) es masculina o quizá sea femenina o posiblemente sea neutra, me da paja consultar el mataburros.

Por lo tanto es o bien der Regen (el lluvia) o die Regen (la lluvia) o das Regen (lo lluvia, como dicen lo muchachos)...eso depende de la cuestión de género, que viste a los travesaños hay que decirles de ella...

In the interest of science, I will cipher it out on the hypothesis that it is masculine. Very well--then the rain is der Regen, if it is simply in the quiescent state of being mentioned, without enlargement or discussion--Nominative case; but if this rain is lying around, in a kind of a general way on the ground, it is then definitely located, it is doing something--that is, resting (which is one of the German grammar's ideas of doing something), and this throws the rain into the Dative case, and makes it dem Regen.

En nombre del ganar tiempo voy a dar por sentado (un supositorio) de que la lluvia es machito.

Muy bien entonces por lógica tiene que ser como te había dicho recién, el lluvio, como el lluvio de Camel...pero no sabés lo que me pasó...resulta que si la lluvia está por así decirle asentada, o sea, si bien la lluvia llueve, no hay movimiento de cambio, o sea, caen soretes de punta pero con estabilidad ininterrumpida por usar una palabra poco autorreferencial, porque se interrumpe, parece tartamuda, pero ahora no hablamos de la lengua de Cervantes y de Cristina, sino de la de Stephan Zweig y Klaus Kinski...o sea parece ser que si vos en alemán tenés algo que el hablante desde su lugar de enunciación considera quieto ya pasa a ser el caso dativo y esto hace que la lluvia o el puto lluvia se convierta en dem Regen...así vos tenés Ich (yo) gehe (voy) ins (al) Kino (cine) e Ich (yo) bin (estoy) im (enel) Susodichen...porque todas las palabras extranjeras además son neutras, salvo Pizza, y en griego kiné es movimiento, supongo que tiene la misma raiz que el ki japonés que es el chi chino y significa energía...pero como no me entra la lengua asquerosa de Einstein no sé ya si el tiempo es masa y la energía es movimiento o si si te agarro te doy masa aunque tratés de moverte...

However, this rain is not resting, but is doing something actively,--it is falling--to interfere with the bird, likely--and this indicates movement, which has the effect of sliding it into the Accusative case and changing dem Regen into den Regen."

En realidad la lluvia está haciendo algo, lo único que sabe hacer que es echar agua pa'abajo, y así como el inglés usa el gerundio para algo durativo o mientras dura, digamos durativo, el alemán usa el acusativo y con esto no te quiero acusar de nada, yo soy Zola, no tendría catadura durativa moral, el caso Dreifuss en alemán es trípode si viene Heidegger con ese curso pedorro de guión y lo separa en Drei y fuss, que es como separar el paraguas que te venía contando en para y aguas y explicar que ese es el sentido ontológico del paraguas, parar el agua...

Having completed the grammatical horoscope of this matter, I answer up confidently and state in German that the bird is staying in the blacksmith shop "wegen (on account of) den Regen." Then the teacher lets me softly down with the remark that whenever the word "wegen" drops into a sentence, it always throws that subject into the genitive case, regardless of consequences--and therefore this bird stayed in the blacksmith shop "wegen des Regens."

Después de todo este intríngulis respondo con la certeza de haber sacrificado tiempo en el camino difícil pero estoicamente seguro y me desayuno con que WEGEN o sea PORQUE obliga a que el caso sea genitivo y por eso la regla de piedra genitiva mata a la de tijera acusativo y es wegen DES RegenS

N.B.--I was informed, later, by a higher authority, that there was an "exception" which permits one to say "wegen den Regen" in certain peculiar and complex circumstances, but that this exception is not extended to anything but rain.

a mí igual me contó un pajarito que existía una excepción que permitía que uno dijera a causa de los lluvia en determinados casos específicos pero no extrapolables, como esos sillones con masaje o esos puf que te sacan el apéndice pero la vesícula muerta de risa

There are ten parts of speech, and they are all troublesome. An average sentence, in a German newspaper, is a sublime and impressive curiosity; it occupies a quarter of a column; it contains all the ten parts of speech--not in regular order, but mixed; it is built mainly of compound words constructed by the writer on the spot, and not to be found in any dictionary--six or seven words compacted into one, without joint or seam--that is, without hyphens; it treats of fourteen or fifteen different subjects, each enclosed in a parenthesis of its own, with here and there extra parentheses, making pens with pens: finally, all the parentheses and reparentheses are massed together between a couple of king-parentheses, one of which is placed in the first line of the majestic sentence and the other in the middle of the last line of it--after which comes the verb, and you find out for the first time what the man has been talking about; and after the verb--merely by way of ornament, as far as I can make out--the writer shovels in "Haben Sind Gewesen Gehabt Haben Geworden Sein," or words to that effect, and the monument is finished.

Hay diez partes de la oración y las diez están encarajinadamente entremezcladas, la regla tekamolo en cuatro significa te de temporal, ka de causal, mo de modal y lo de local, porque las siglas y reglas mnemotécnicas son más arbitrarias y abstrusas que la cosa en sí, la que Kant dice que nunca voy a llegar a verte, está todo lleno de parentéticas y cláusulas que modifican al predicado con perífrasis adverbiales y largas circunvolaciones de circunloquios imbricados como un laberinto o una catedral gótica que a Borges le asombraba que estuvieran hechos para perder a la gente aunque él escribía sublimes alegorías sobre la masturbación o el peronismo, que son la misma cosa en "La secta del Fénix" y "La lotería en Babilonia" y después las cajitas abiertas por los corchetes y los guiones, que pueden ser del grosor de una m o de una n, ahora hay tres, se van cerrando con esa organización que uno no sabe si mandó a hacer tan complicado el idioma o si el idioma no obligó a los alemanes como dice la teoría de Humboldt-Worf a ser tan organizados solo para poder decodificar lo que joraca me querés decir o me estás haciendo un trabajito fino vos, y entonces se produce el advenimiento del verbo y como frutillita de la torta viene una frase litúrgica ritual que suena algo así como Haben Sind Gewesen Gehabt Haben Geworden Sein"

I suppose that this closing hurrah is in the nature of the flourish to a man's signature--not necessary, but pretty. German books are easy enough to read when you hold them before the looking-glass or stand on your head--so as to reverse the construction--but I think that to learn to read and understand a German newspaper is a thing which must always remain an impossibility to a foreigner.

se dice que la prosa filosófica sajona es tan legible como un diario y que Hume pongo por caso es tan asequible para el lego como The sun, ese diario amarillista que lo tenés que tener medio chanfleaod pa que no te chorré la sangre, pero con el alemán pasa exactamente lo mismo: podés constatar que la prosa filosófica de un Hegel o un Fichte o un Feuerbach o un Lichtenberg es igual de fácil que leer el Frankfurter Allgemeine o el Die Zeit, porque los diarios son más complicados allá que la Crítica de la Razón Pura

Yet even the German books are not entirely free from attacks of the Parenthesis distemper--though they are usually so mild as to cover only a few lines, and therefore when you at last get down to the verb it carries some meaning to your mind because you are able to remember a good deal of what has gone before. Now here is a sentence from a popular and excellent German novel--which a slight parenthesis in it. I will make a perfectly literal translation, and throw in the parenthesis-marks and some hyphens for the assistance of the reader--though in the original there are no parenthesis-marks or hyphens, and the reader is left to flounder through to the remote verb the best way he can:

No es imposible que la gran capacidad de abstracción germánica se deba a esta necesidad en cada comunicación baladí de conservar una porción enorme de significado expectante hasta la última fecha del campeonato solo para dilucidar mediante la acción desambiguadora del verbo qué dirección simbólica, qué intención, o qué descripción o qué tragedia representan...

"But when he, upon the street, the (in-satin-and-silk-covered- now-very-unconstrained-after-the-newest-fashioned-dressed) government counselor's wife met," etc., etc. [1]
That is from The Old Mamselle's Secret, by Mrs. Marlitt. And that sentence is constructed upon the most approved German model. You observe how far that verb is from the reader's base of operations; well, in a German newspaper they put their verb away over on the next page; and I have heard that sometimes after stringing along the exciting preliminaries and parentheses for a column or two, they get in a hurry and have to go to press without getting to the verb at all. Of course, then, the reader is left in a very exhausted and ignorant state.

a veces el diario cierra sin que hayan tenido tiempo de colocarle el verbo, que es el tratamiento final, que requiere que todo lo demás esté seco

We have the Parenthesis disease in our literature, too; and one may see cases of it every day in our books and newspapers: but with us it is the mark and sign of an unpracticed writer or a cloudy intellect, whereas with the Germans it is doubtless the mark and sign of a practiced pen and of the presence of that sort of luminous intellectual fog which stands for clearness among these people.

para un angloparlante recargar una oración y abrir un paréntesis antes de llegar al punto del climax que fuera el punto de partida de la enunciación resulta una impiedad o un error no muy divergente del de los arteroescleróticos que te empiezan a hablar de una cosa que les hace acordar a otra y ya le asignan mayor o igual valor a lo nuevo y recién pensado dejándote en ayunas respecto de lo que en principio fuera el origen de la emisión de sonidos...yo no digo que el origen sea sagrado, porque obviamente las etimologías importan menos que el uso actual de un término, la palabra "lampiño" viene de "lámpara" y sin embargo la asociamos ahora a los originarios que ni electricidad tenían, pero para un alemán es el sello de distinción poder meter de contrabando algunos modificadores directos, circunstanciales de modo, flashbacks retrospectivos, prefijos iterativos o incoactivos, transitar por los verbos copulativos o copular con los verbos transitivos recién al acabar.

For surely it is not clearness--it necessarily can't be clearness. Even a jury would have penetration enough to discover that. A writer's ideas must be a good deal confused, a good deal out of line and sequence, when he starts out to say that a man met a counselor's wife in the street, and then right in the midst of this so simple undertaking halts these approaching people and makes them stand still until he jots down an inventory of the woman's dress. That is manifestly absurd. It reminds a person of those dentists who secure your instant and breathless interest in a tooth by taking a grip on it with the forceps, and then stand there and drawl through a tedious anecdote before they give the dreaded jerk. Parentheses in literature and dentistry are in bad taste.

todo el mundo hoy por hoy o sea hoy al cuadrado puede entender inglés y entonces mi tarea del traductor como dijo Walter Benjamin es un poco lo que en pintura se denominaría Degass...

The Germans have another kind of parenthesis, which they make by splitting a verb in two and putting half of it at the beginning of an exciting chapter and the other half at the end of it. Can any one conceive of anything more confusing than that? These things are called "separable verbs." The German grammar is blistered all over with separable verbs; and the wider the two portions of one of them are spread apart, the better the author of the crime is pleased with his performance. A favorite one is reiste ab--which means departed. Here is an example which I culled from a novel and reduced to English:

Los alemanes tienen otra clase de paréntesis que no es como cuando un dentista a punto de darte una inyección te cuenta que los cascos para bicicleta son contraproducentes porque aceleran la caída del cráneo por un tema de peso, o cuando una mujer con anteojos que se cree inteligente te sale con que las personas con problemas en la visual son más inteligentes porque la presión evolutiva obligó a que su masa encefálica oprimiera por dentro los globos oculares: se trata de verbos que tienen un prefijo, como el de para llamar a Alemania, y ese prefijo pasa escindido al final de todo y de hecho es el indicador de que la oración ha concluido. Así un alemán dice "Yo me vanto a las siete y media de la mañana le" (Ich stehe um halb acht auf) siendo el infinitivo aufstehen, eso por no meternos en que para decir las siete y media se dice las media ocho...

"The trunks being now ready, he DE- after kissing his mother and sisters, and once more pressing to his bosom his adored Gretchen, who, dressed in simple white muslin, with a single tuberose in the ample folds of her rich brown hair, had tottered feebly down the stairs, still pale from the terror and excitement of the past evening, but longing to lay her poor aching head yet once again upon the breast of him whom she loved more dearly than life itself, -PARTED."
However, it is not well to dwell too much on the separable verbs. One is sure to lose his temper early; and if he sticks to the subject, and will not be warned, it will at last either soften his brain or petrify it. Personal pronouns and adjectives are a fruitful nuisance in this language, and should have been left out. For instance, the same sound, sie, means you, and it means she, and it means her, and it means IT, and it means they, and it means them. Think of the ragged poverty of a language which has to make one word do the work of six--and a poor little weak thing of only three letters at that. But mainly, think of the exasperation of never knowing which of these meanings the speaker is trying to convey. This explains why, whenever a person says sie to me, I generally try to kill him, if a stranger.

la extraña economía de símbolos que presenta el alemán, recombinando partículas y lexemas suprasegmentales hasta que te tenés que tomar un suprasec nos llevarían a creer en la superioridad de los idiomas con muuucho vocabulario...y sin embargo no es exactamente la cantidad de palabras lo que determina la rigidez, sino el prurito de precisión, ya que "hijo de puta" puede ser ambiguamente un insulto, un elogio, un vocativo fraterno neutro y a nadie molesta ni fatiga: más bien lo irritante es que cuando zu significa cerrado en Die Tür ist zu de ningún modo podría significar para como en um zu Ich studiere Deutsch um Deutsch zu wissen (conector causal escindible a su vez) ni demasiado como en zu kompliziert

Now observe the Adjective. Here was a case where simplicity would have been an advantage; therefore, for no other reason, the inventor of this language complicated it all he could. When we wish to speak of our "good friend or friends," in our enlightened tongue, we stick to the one form and have no trouble or hard feeling about it; but with the German tongue it is different. When a German gets his hands on an adjective, he declines it, and keeps on declining it until the common sense is all declined out of it. It is as bad as Latin. He says, for instance:
SINGULAR
Nominative--Mein guter Freund, my good friend.
Genitives--Meines guten Freundes, of my good friend.
Dative--Meinem guten Freund, to my good friend.
Accusative--Meinen guten Freund, my good friend.
PLURAL
N.--Meine guten Freunde, my good friends.
G.--Meiner guten Freunde, of my good friends.
D.--Meinen guten Freunden, to my good friends.
A.--Meine guten Freunde, my good friends.
Now let the candidate for the asylum try to memorize those variations, and see how soon he will be elected. One might better go without friends in Germany than take all this trouble about them. I have shown what a bother it is to decline a good (male) friend; well this is only a third of the work, for there is a variety of new distortions of the adjective to be learned when the object is feminine, and still another when the object is neuter. Now there are more adjectives in this language than there are black cats in Switzerland, and they must all be as elaborately declined as the examples above suggested. Difficult?--troublesome?--these words cannot describe it. I heard a Californian student in Heidelberg say, in one of his calmest moods, that he would rather decline two drinks than one German adjective.

lo que arriba dice Mark Twain no es pedagógicamente satírico, ya que el adjetivo declinado en cuestión no se declina, permanece invariable y lo único que cambia es el pronombre posesivo y, a veces, lo admito, el sujeto...yo no sé si preferirá este buenhombre el japonés, cuyas traducciones literales han producido el "long time no see"...si la ambigüedad fuera un valor en este época andrógina y de indefiniciones preciosistas, queda claro que el más pobre american english que solo presenta una dificultad para conjugar en la tercera persona y después es todo igual y que solo tiene un artículo, no ha producido pensamiento sutilmente intrincado, sino mucho más fanático, inequívoco, explícito y puritano que el alemán: el libro "Escher, Gödel, Bach" fue escrito por un norteamericano (Doug Hofstadtler) que admira las sutilezas musicales, matemáticas y pictóricas de los juegos simétricos en productores de juegos simbólicos no anglopensantes...Claro que su mejor libro es Le ton beu de Marot que no se consigue...Mark Twain tiene todas las licencias de exageración que la parodia requiere, pero olvida que el idioma una vez adquirido es tan fácil de articular como lo es manejar un auto o escribir a máquina y sería mucho más absurdo el proceso de adquisición de la técnica específica de lo antedicho si se le hubiera ocurrido describirlo

The inventor of the language seems to have taken pleasure in complicating it in every way he could think of. For instance, if one is casually referring to a house, haus, or a horse, pferd, or a dog, hund, he spells these words as I have indicated; but if he is referring to them in the Dative case, he sticks on a foolish and unnecessary E and spells them hause, pferde, hunde. So, as an added E often signifies the plural, as the S does with us, the new student is likely to go on for a month making twins out of a Dative dog before he discovers his mistake; and on the other hand, many a new student who could ill afford loss, has bought and paid for two dogs and only got one of them, because he ignorantly bought that dog in the Dative singular when he really supposed he was talking plural--which left the law on the seller's side, of course, by the strict rules of grammar, and therefore a suit for recovery could not lie.

también el español agrega "arbitrarias" e en la pluralización de sustantivos que terminan en consonante, la lengua materna parece parte del universo como el sol y la luna siempre

In German, all the Nouns begin with a capital letter. Now that is a good idea; and a good idea, in this language, is necessarily conspicuous from its lonesomeness. I consider this capitalizing of nouns a good idea, because by reason of it you are almost always able to tell a noun the minute you see it. You fall into error occasionally, because you mistake the name of a person for the name of a thing, and waste a good deal of time trying to dig a meaning out of it. German names almost always do mean something, and this helps to deceive the student. I translated a passage one day, which said that "the infuriated tigress broke loose and utterly ate up the unfortunate fir forest" (Tannenwald). When I was girding up my loins to doubt this, I found out that Tannenwald in this instance was a man's name.

Debo disentir: la estamental rémora feudal de que el sustantivo vaya con mayúscula obedece a un paradigma linguístico perimido en el que se asignaba mayor relevancia a lo nominal...sin embargo, voy a ponerme de ejemplo, no es un gran logro conseguir que digan "hoy el Brauer lee en Brandon" porque ser un sustantivo es poco sustantivo...si alguien en cambio dijera "vi en el texto de Alfio elementos brauerianos" ya uno es una escuela y no un mero profesor soñador predicando en lo real que tiene mucho desierto

Every noun has a gender, and there is no sense or system in the distribution; so the gender of each must be learned separately and by heart. There is no other way. To do this one has to have a memory like a memorandum-book. In German, a young lady has no sex, while a turnip has. Think what overwrought reverence that shows for the turnip, and what callous disrespect for the girl. See how it looks in print--I translate this from a conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school books:
"Gretchen. Wilhelm, where is the turnip?
"Wilhelm. She has gone to the kitchen.
"Gretchen. Where is the accomplished and beautiful English maiden?
Wilhelm. It has gone to the opera."
To continue with the German genders: a tree is male, its buds are female, its leaves are neuter; horses are sexless, dogs are male, cats are female--tomcats included, of course; a person's mouth, neck, bosom, elbows, fingers, nails, feet, and body are of the male sex, and his head is male or neuter according to the word selected to signify it, and not according to the sex of the individual who wears it--for in Germany all the women either male heads or sexless ones; a person's nose, lips, shoulders, breast, hands, and toes are of the female sex; and his hair, ears, eyes, chin, legs, knees, heart, and conscience haven't any sex at all. The inventor of the language probably got what he knew about a conscience from hearsay.
Now, by the above dissection, the reader will see that in Germany a man may think he is a man, but when he comes to look into the matter closely, he is bound to have his doubts; he finds that in sober truth he is a most ridiculous mixture; and if he ends by trying to comfort himself with the thought that he can at least depend on a third of this mess as being manly and masculine, the humiliating second thought will quickly remind him that in this respect he is no better off than any woman or cow in the land.

en alemán los sufijos que apocopan no indican ternura (como en castellano, porque "sentadita" quiere decir que me es entrañable y no que es enana)-el idish tomó solo del húngaro las dulcificaciones-pero son muy fáciles de aprender. Por ejemplo "lein" o "chen" agregado a cualquier sustantivo lo vuelve neutro. Entonces si yo no sé si es Der Godzilla o Die Godzilla o Das Godzilla, siempre puedo decir das Godzillchen...por ese motivo muchacha (Mädchen) es "lo" y no "la" sin que venga con sorpresa, au contrarie, por ese motivo "Fräulein" (señorita) es también lo y no la: aquí Mark Twain vuelve a quejarse por fas o nefas, ya que la clave interpretativa es sencillamente que lo más importante va al final (por eso trece se dice tres y diez, porque las decenas son más importantes). En las palabras compuestas, como en griego, la que propiamente dicho funciona como sustantiva va al final. Nosotros decimos idea clave o mujer objeto o coche bomba, pero tanto en inglés como en alemán se empieza con un sustantivo que hace las veces de atributo y se concluye con el principal (cience fiction debería traducirse como ficción científica y no como ciencia ficción): también rige el género de toda la palabra la última. Si yo acuño el neologismo Sauerkrautnachgeschmacksbordsteinschealbemunde (la boca de la ((lit. "golondrina del cordón de la vereda")) prostituta con regusto a chucrut, solo tengo que saber qué artículo lleva boca o convertirlo en boquita, Mundlein o Mündchen.

(das Sauerkrautnachgeschmacksbordsteinschwalbemundlein).

De todos modos asignarle un género a los objetos es antojadizo. La silla no tiene genitales que la vuelvan femenina. Creemos en la feminidad de la muerte por costumbre no nórdica, para nosotros es la luna y el sol y no el luna y la sol pero es igual de irracional suponerle rasgos viriles o afeminados a un cuerpo celeste. Es más, voy a ser demagógico ya que leo en BrandonLee que no es el hijo también trágicamente muerto de BruceLee: asignarle género a un ser humano es un prejuicio burgués, una superstición del paleopositivismo judeocristiano...

Mark Twain se puso ese pseudónimo por motivos fonéticos (a Samuel Clemens le gustaba como sonaba "marca veinte" en el grito de los astilleros del Missisipi, así como a Boyle le gustó el germánico Stendhal que los snobs argentinos pronuncian afrancesado): que no sea la semántico, sino la morfología o la música verbal lo que cambie las cosas no está nada mal, después de todo lo que al vivir "decimos" es más o menos lo mismo queremos dar y recibir amor, necesitamos la ancestral guerra pero de una forma civilizada, luchamos por el reconocimiento de los pares, tenemos una religión para cada edad, somos nietzscheanos a los 20 y budistas con el viejazo, nos seduce el desapego cuando estamos obligados a abandonar la pasión más animosa, queremos encajar en el estereotipo pero dándole un toque personalizado de distinción, éramos célibes en la Era Victoriana o lo parecíamos y ahora somos una trolas chupahappy new year happy new roses happy neurosis porque hay que serlo o lo simulamos, nos absteníamos de beber sin moderación cerveza y ahora tomamos el mínimo indispensable de drogas duras para que nos acepten, en fin: la forma en la que lo decimos o cantamos es lo que nos define. Y el español también cambia el género por motivos eufónicos en "agua" para que no sea "la agua" que sonaría muy guaraní de Aachen

In the German it is true that by some oversight of the inventor of the language, a Woman is a female; but a Wife (Weib) is not--which is unfortunate. A Wife, here, has no sex; she is neuter; so, according to the grammar, a fish is he, his scales are she, but a fishwife is neither. To describe a wife as sexless may be called under-description; that is bad enough, but over-description is surely worse. A German speaks of an Englishman as the engländer; to change the sex, he adds inn, and that stands for Englishwoman-- engländerinn. That seems descriptive enough, but still it is not exact enough for a German; so he precedes the word with that article which indicates that the creature to follow is feminine, and writes it down thus: "die Engländerinn,"--which means "the she-Englishwoman." I consider that that person is over-described.

Grosero error de concepto: die Engländerinn sería the englishwoman

Well, after the student has learned the sex of a great number of nouns, he is still in a difficulty, because he finds it impossible to persuade his tongue to refer to things as "he" and "she," and "him" and "her," which it has been always accustomed to refer to it as "it." When he even frames a German sentence in his mind, with the hims and hers in the right places, and then works up his courage to the utterance-point, it is no use-- the moment he begins to speak his tongue files the track and all those labored males and females come out as "its." And even when he is reading German to himself, he always calls those things "it," where as he ought to read in this way:
TALE OF THE FISHWIFE AND ITS SAD FATE [2]
It is a bleak Day. Hear the Rain, how he pours, and the Hail, how he rattles; and see the Snow, how he drifts along, and of the Mud, how deep he is! Ah the poor Fishwife, it is stuck fast in the Mire; it has dropped its Basket of Fishes; and its Hands have been cut by the Scales as it seized some of the falling Creatures; and one Scale has even got into its Eye. and it cannot get her out. It opens its Mouth to cry for Help; but if any Sound comes out of him, alas he is drowned by the raging of the Storm. And now a Tomcat has got one of the Fishes and she will surely escape with him. No, she bites off a Fin, she holds her in her Mouth--will she swallow her? No, the Fishwife's brave Mother-dog deserts his Puppies and rescues the Fin--which he eats, himself, as his Reward. O, horror, the Lightning has struck the Fish-basket; he sets him on Fire; see the Flame, how she licks the doomed Utensil with her red and angry Tongue; now she attacks the helpless Fishwife's Foot--she burns him up, all but the big Toe, and even she is partly consumed; and still she spreads, still she waves her fiery Tongues; she attacks the Fishwife's Leg and destroys it; she attacks its Hand and destroys her also; she attacks the Fishwife's Leg and destroys her also; she attacks its Body and consumes him; she wreathes herself about its Heart and it is consumed; next about its Breast, and in a Moment she is a Cinder; now she reaches its Neck--He goes; now its Chin-- it goes; now its Nose--she goes. In another Moment, except Help come, the Fishwife will be no more. Time presses--is there none to succor and save? Yes! Joy, joy, with flying Feet the she-Englishwoman comes! But alas, the generous she-Female is too late: where now is the fated Fishwife? It has ceased from its Sufferings, it has gone to a better Land; all that is left of it for its loved Ones to lament over, is this poor smoldering Ash-heap. Ah, woeful, woeful Ash-heap! Let us take him up tenderly, reverently, upon the lowly Shovel, and bear him to his long Rest, with the Prayer that when he rises again it will be a Realm where he will have one good square responsible Sex, and have it all to himself, instead of having a mangy lot of assorted Sexes scattered all over him in Spots.
There, now, the reader can see for himself that this pronoun business is a very awkward thing for the unaccustomed tongue. I suppose that in all languages the similarities of look and sound between words which have no similarity in meaning are a fruitful source of perplexity to the foreigner. It is so in our tongue, and it is notably the case in the German. Now there is that troublesome word vermählt: to me it has so close a resemblance--either real or fancied--to three or four other words, that I never know whether it means despised, painted, suspected, or married; until I look in the dictionary, and then I find it means the latter. There are lots of such words and they are a great torment. To increase the difficulty there are words which seem to resemble each other, and yet do not; but they make just as much trouble as if they did. For instance, there is the word vermiethen (to let, to lease, to hire); and the word verheirathen (another way of saying to marry). I heard of an Englishman who knocked at a man's door in Heidelberg and proposed, in the best German he could command, to "verheirathen" that house.

Hay juegos de palabras mejores: Chevy Chase en Los Greenwald viajan a Europa descubre que seis se dice sechs (se pronuncia sex) y le espeta a una anciana para decirle que buscan el número 6 "hello, we are looking for sex"...cosa que tambien peca de inexacta: la s suave de la abejita corresponde a la pronunciación del número y la palabra Sex se pronuncia como si estuviera escrita con dos eses o la ahora abolida "scharfes es" que es como una beta griega, d ela misma manera que nosotros no usamos dos erres en reloj...

Then there are some words which mean one thing when you emphasize the first syllable, but mean something very different if you throw the emphasis on the last syllable. For instance, there is a word which means a runaway, or the act of glancing through a book, according to the placing of the emphasis; and another word which signifies to associate with a man, or to avoid him, according to where you put the emphasis--and you can generally depend on putting it in the wrong place and getting into trouble.

Hay dos formas de diferenciar esos verbos que según su acentuación significan una cosa u otra: por la entonación melódica o por su participio.

El verbo atravesar, durchbohren, forma dos participio según si se alude a una literal acepción (he atravesado la pared con la perforadora: durchgebohrt), o a una metafórica (if looks kills, si las miradas sodomizaran, me ha atravesado con la mirada durchbohrt).

Pero en inglés pasa igual, buttfucked podría ser goddambuttfucked y así ad infinitum, porque el alemán formó esos verbos compuestos yuxtaponiéndolos pero conservó el significado primigenio de los prefijos como en los phrasal verbs...to break up with my girlfriend no es lo mismo que break her neck up y yo simpre preferí el homicidio por sobre el divorcio...en español también hay problemas para expresar me salió un grano del orto del orto o en maleducado y el uso contrario sensu actual de mal, como me tiró los galgos mal, delante de mi novio que le rompió la nariz mal (se sobrentiende que "bien"): tiene cara de malcogida mal y demás cláusulas presentan la misma presunta complejidad alemana....

There are some exceedingly useful words in this language. Schlag, for example; and zug. There are three-quarters of a column of schlags in the dictonary, and a column and a half of zugs. The word schlag means Blow, Stroke, Dash, Hit, Shock, Clap, Slap, Time, Bar, Coin, Stamp, Kind, Sort, Manner, Way, Apoplexy, Wood-cutting, Enclosure, Field, Forest-clearing. This is its simple and exact meaning--that is to say, its restricted, its fettered meaning; but there are ways by which you can set it free, so that it can soar away, as on the wings of the morning, and never be at rest. You can hang any word you please to its tail, and make it mean anything you want to. You can begin with schlag-ader, which means artery, and you can hang on the whole dictionary, word by word, clear through the alphabet to schlag-wasser, which means bilge-water--and including schlag-mutter, which means mother-in-law.
Just the same with zug. Strictly speaking, zug means Pull, Tug, Draught, Procession, March, Progress, Flight, Direction, Expedition, Train, Caravan, Passage, Stroke, Touch, Line, Flourish, Trait of Character, Feature, Lineament, Chess-move, Organ-stop, Team, Whiff, Bias, Drawer, Propensity, Inhalation, Disposition: but that thing which it does not mean--when all its legitimate pennants have been hung on, has not been discovered yet.
One cannot overestimate the usefulness of schlag and zug. Armed just with these two, and the word also, what cannot the foreigner on German soil accomplish? The German word also is the equivalent of the English phrase "You know," and does not mean anything at all--in talk, though it sometimes does in print. Every time a German opens his mouth an also falls out; and every time he shuts it he bites one in two that was trying to get out.
Now, the foreigner, equipped with these three noble words, is master of the situation. Let him talk right along, fearlessly; let him pour his indifferent German forth, and when he lacks for a word, let him heave a schlag into the vacuum; all the chances are that it fits it like a plug, but if it doesn't let him promptly heave a zug after it; the two together can hardly fail to bung the hole; but if, by a miracle, they should fail, let him simply say also! and this will give him a moment's chance to think of the needful word. In Germany, when you load your conversational gun it is always best to throw in a schlag or two and a zug or two, because it doesn't make any difference how much the rest of the charge may scatter, you are bound to bag something with them. Then you blandly say also, and load up again. Nothing gives such an air of grace and elegance and unconstraint to a German or an English conversation as to scatter it full of "Also's" or "You knows."

eso es como que un troglodita filisteo se quejara de todos los significados que adquiere el cero y el uno en el sistema binario, mirá es 0001010101 a veces pornografía en internet, a veces wikipedia, a veces un blog deleitable como este, et caetedra.

In my note-book I find this entry:
July 1.--In the hospital yesterday, a word of thirteen syllables was successfully removed from a patient--a North German from near Hamburg; but as most unfortunately the surgeons had opened him in the wrong place, under the impression that he contained a panorama, he died. The sad event has cast a gloom over the whole community.

ayer en el hospital una palabra de dieciseis sílabas fue exitosamente extirpada de un paciente...es un chiste diver, para decirlo de un modo que honre este odio de acomplejado por el largor

That paragraph furnishes a text for a few remarks about one of the most curious and notable features of my subject--the length of German words. Some German words are so long that they have a perspective. Observe these examples:
Freundschaftsbezeigungen.
Dilettantenaufdringlichkeiten.
Stadtverordnetenversammlungen.
These things are not words, they are alphabetical processions. And they are not rare; one can open a German newspaper at any time and see them marching majestically across the page--and if he has any imagination he can see the banners and hear the music, too. They impart a martial thrill to the meekest subject. I take a great interest in these curiosities. Whenever I come across a good one, I stuff it and put it in my museum. In this way I have made quite a valuable collection. When I get duplicates, I exchange with other collectors, and thus increase the variety of my stock. Here rare some specimens which I lately bought at an auction sale of the effects of a bankrupt bric-a-brac hunter:
Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen.
Altertumswissenschaften.
Kinderbewährungsanstalten.
Unabhängigkeitserklärungen.
Wiederherstellungbestrebungen.
Waffenstillstandsverhandlungen.

la facultad de unir palabras (komposita) no es privativa del alemán y ciertamente es más elegante y sintética de lo que Mark Twain con su superficial mirada denuncia: supongamos que tengo que poner un aviso en el diario y me cobran por palabra o peor aún que la única forma de escritura que poseo es con mi sangre como tinta sobre una piedra a la que hay que percutir dolorosa y arduamente. No hay una sola de las palabras aquí desenmascaradas como monstruosamente largas que admitan una perífrasis castellana que ocupe menos lugar (que provoque menos pérdida de dinero o de sangre con menos letras).

Of course when one of these grand mountain ranges goes stretching across the printed page, it adorns and ennobles that literary landscape--but at the same time it is a great distress to the new student, for it blocks up his way; he cannot crawl under it, or climb over it, or tunnel through it. So he resorts to the dictionary for help, but there is no help there. The dictionary must draw the line somewhere--so it leaves this sort of words out. And it is right, because these long things are hardly legitimate words, but are rather combinations of words, and the inventor of them ought to have been killed. They are compound words with the hyphens left out. The various words used in building them are in the dictionary, but in a very scattered condition; so you can hunt the materials out, one by one, and get at the meaning at last, but it is a tedious and harassing business. I have tried this process upon some of the above examples. "Freundschaftsbezeigungen" seems to be "Friendship demonstrations," which is only a foolish and clumsy way of saying "demonstrations of friendship." "Unabhängigkeitserklärungen" seems to be "Independencedeclarations," which is no improvement upon "Declarations of Independence," so far as I can see. "Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen" seems to be "General-statesrepresentativesmeetings," as nearly as I can get at it--a mere rhythmical, gushy euphuism for "meetings of the legislature," I judge. We used to have a good deal of this sort of crime in our literature, but it has gone out now. We used to speak of a things as a "never-to-be-forgotten" circumstance, instead of cramping it into the simple and sufficient word "memorable" and then going calmly about our business as if nothing had happened. In those days we were not content to embalm the thing and bury it decently, we wanted to build a monument over it.
But in our newspapers the compounding-disease lingers a little to the present day, but with the hyphens left out, in the German fashion. This is the shape it takes: instead of saying "Mr. Simmons, clerk of the county and district courts, was in town yesterday," the new form put it thus: "Clerk of the County and District Courts Simmons was in town yesterday." This saves neither time nor ink, and has an awkward sound besides. One often sees a remark like this in our papers: "MRS. Assistant District Attorney Johnson returned to her city residence yesterday for the season." That is a case of really unjustifiable compounding; because it not only saves no time or trouble, but confers a title on Mrs. Johnson which she has no right to. But these little instances are trifles indeed, contrasted with the ponderous and dismal German system of piling jumbled compounds together. I wish to submit the following local item, from a Mannheim journal, by way of illustration:
"In the daybeforeyesterdayshortlyaftereleveno'clock Night, the inthistownstandingtavern called 'The Wagoner' was downburnt. When the fire to the onthedownburninghouseresting Stork's Nest reached, flew the parent Storks away. But when the bytheraging, firesurrounded Nest itself caught Fire, straightway plunged the quickreturning Mother-Stork into the Flames and died, her Wings over her young ones outspread."
Even the cumbersome German construction is not able to take the pathos out of that picture--indeed, it somehow seems to strengthen it. This item is dated away back yonder months ago. I could have used it sooner, but I was waiting to hear from the Father-stork. I am still waiting.
"also!" If I had not shown that the German is a difficult language, I have at least intended to do so. I have heard of an American student who was asked how he was getting along with his German, and who answered promptly: "I am not getting along at all. I have worked at it hard for three level months, and all I have got to show for it is one solitary German phrase--'zwei glas'" (two glasses of beer). He paused for a moment, reflectively; then added with feeling: "But I've got that solid!"
And if I have not also shown that German is a harassing and infuriating study, my execution has been at fault, and not my intent. I heard lately of a worn and sorely tried American student who used to fly to a certain German word for relief when he could bear up under his aggravations no longer--the only word whose sound was sweet and precious to his ear and healing to his lacerated spirit. This was the word damit. It was only the sound that helped him, not the meaning; [3] and so, at last, when he learned that the emphasis was not on the first syllable, his only stay and support was gone, and he faded away and died.
i think that a description of any loud, stirring, tumultuous episode must be tamer in German than in English. Our descriptive words of this character have such a deep, strong, resonant sound, while their German equivalents do seem so thin and mild and energyless. Boom, burst, crash, roar, storm, bellow, blow, thunder, explosion; howl, cry, shout, yell, groan; battle, hell. These are magnificent words; the have a force and magnitude of sound befitting the things which they describe. But their German equivalents would be ever so nice to sing the children to sleep with, or else my awe-inspiring ears were made for display and not for superior usefulness in analyzing sounds. Would any man want to die in a battle which was called by so tame a term as a schlacht?

Decir esto es creer con Platón en el cratilismo y suponer que la abstraída imagen mental asignada a un rótulo debe estar en dicha etiqueta, es creer que ocultar no es mentir y que nombrar es poseer, es creer que los gallos cacarean kikiriki acá y en la China y no cockeldoodeldoo en los Estados Unidos. Es olvidar el valor puramente relativo de un idioma, donde yo puedo traducir a Kant diciendo que Vernunft es hipopótamo y Verstand es sacacorchos siempre y cuando use una palabra que los diferencie...A Borges le gustaba el sonido de la palabra luna en inglés porque le hacía pensar en la luna más que la palabra luna en español, por las dos o que alargan...ese tipo de sutileza puede ser muy relevante en el marco de la escritura de un poema, pero en la función comunicativa del lenguaje es ridícula...

El idioma alemán y el idioma español son formas vacías tanto como las modalidades de silogismo en la lógica formal...la única diferencia que hay que aprender es:

presente indicativo

en español

yo marktwaineo

tú marktwaineas(grave) /en rioplatense vos marktwaineás (aguda)

usted/él/ella makteainea

nosotros marktwainamos

vosotros marktwainais

ustedes/ellos marktwainean

en alemán

Präsens

ich marktwaine

du marktwainst

Sie marktwainen

er/sie/es marktwaint

wir marktwainen

ihr marktwaint

sie marktwainen

o adverbios: marktwainamente, marktwainlich

o adjetivos: marktwainense, marktwaineano-marktwainhaft, marktwainswürdig

estas dos convenciones llamadas "idiomas" son sistemas perfectamente válidos para decir lo que sea y equidistan de la Forma Natural Que Dios Manda, ya sea si uno cree con los utilitaristas o los estructuralistas o los marxianos que se trata de una construcción o creación humana colectiva o con el mito bíblico de Babel que esta riqueza es una pobreza necesaria para no pecar de soberbios o con Nietzsche que es un palimpsesto que impone significados involuntarios o con Lacán y la posmodernidad nosotros somos una creación del significante o del relato o con los políticamente correctos que diciendo afroamericanos y mentalmente desafiados los negros y los mogólicos balsámicamente mejorarán

Or would not a comsumptive feel too much bundled up, who was about to go out, in a shirt-collar and a seal-ring, into a storm which the bird-song word gewitter was employed to describe? And observe the strongest of the several German equivalents for explosion--ausbruch. Our word Toothbrush is more powerful than that. It seems to me that the Germans could do worse than import it into their language to describe particularly tremendous explosions with. The German word for hell--Hölle--sounds more like helly than anything else; therefore, how necessary chipper, frivolous, and unimpressive it is. If a man were told in German to go there, could he really rise to thee dignity of feeling insulted?
Having pointed out, in detail, the several vices of this language, I now come to the brief and pleasant task of pointing out its virtues. The capitalizing of the nouns I have already mentioned. But far before this virtue stands another--that of spelling a word according to the sound of it. After one short lesson in the alphabet, the student can tell how any German word is pronounced without having to ask; whereas in our language if a student should inquire of us, "What does B, O, W, spell?" we should be obliged to reply, "Nobody can tell what it spells when you set if off by itself; you can only tell by referring to the context and finding out what it signifies--whether it is a thing to shoot arrows with, or a nod of one's head, or the forward end of a boat."
There are some German words which are singularly and powerfully effective. For instance, those which describe lowly, peaceful, and affectionate home life; those which deal with love, in any and all forms, from mere kindly feeling and honest good will toward the passing stranger, clear up to courtship; those which deal with outdoor Nature, in its softest and loveliest aspects--with meadows and forests, and birds and flowers, the fragrance and sunshine of summer, and the moonlight of peaceful winter nights; in a word, those which deal with any and all forms of rest, respose, and peace; those also which deal with the creatures and marvels of fairyland; and lastly and chiefly, in those words which express pathos, is the language surpassingly rich and affective. There are German songs which can make a stranger to the language cry. That shows that the sound of the words is correct--it interprets the meanings with truth and with exactness; and so the ear is informed, and through the ear, the heart.
The Germans do not seem to be afraid to repeat a word when it is the right one. they repeat it several times, if they choose. That is wise. But in English, when we have used a word a couple of times in a paragraph, we imagine we are growing tautological, and so we are weak enough to exchange it for some other word which only approximates exactness, to escape what we wrongly fancy is a greater blemish. Repetition may be bad, but surely inexactness is worse.
There are people in the world who will take a great deal of trouble to point out the faults in a religion or a language, and then go blandly about their business without suggesting any remedy. I am not that kind of person. I have shown that the German language needs reforming. Very well, I am ready to reform it. At least I am ready to make the proper suggestions. Such a course as this might be immodest in another; but I have devoted upward of nine full weeks, first and last, to a careful and critical study of this tongue, and thus have acquired a confidence in my ability to reform it which no mere superficial culture could have conferred upon me.
In the first place, I would leave out the Dative case. It confuses the plurals; and, besides, nobody ever knows when he is in the Dative case, except he discover it by accident--and then he does not know when or where it was that he got into it, or how long he has been in it, or how he is going to get out of it again. The Dative case is but an ornamental folly--it is better to discard it.
In the next place, I would move the Verb further up to the front. You may load up with ever so good a Verb, but I notice that you never really bring down a subject with it at the present German range--you only cripple it. So I insist that this important part of speech should be brought forward to a position where it may be easily seen with the naked eye.
Thirdly, I would import some strong words from the English tongue--to swear with, and also to use in describing all sorts of vigorous things in a vigorous ways. [4]
Fourthly, I would reorganize the sexes, and distribute them accordingly to the will of the creator. This as a tribute of respect, if nothing else.
Fifthly, I would do away with those great long compounded words; or require the speaker to deliver them in sections, with intermissions for refreshments. To wholly do away with them would be best, for ideas are more easily received and digested when they come one at a time than when they come in bulk. Intellectual food is like any other; it is pleasanter and more beneficial to take it with a spoon than with a shovel.
Sixthly, I would require a speaker to stop when he is done, and not hang a string of those useless "haven sind gewesen gehabt haben geworden seins" to the end of his oration. This sort of gewgaws undignify a speech, instead of adding a grace. They are, therefore, an offense, and should be discarded.
Seventhly, I would discard the Parenthesis. Also the reparenthesis, the re-reparenthesis, and the re-re-re-re-re-reparentheses, and likewise the final wide-reaching all-enclosing king-parenthesis. I would require every individual, be he high or low, to unfold a plain straightforward tale, or else coil it and sit on it and hold his peace. Infractions of this law should be punishable with death.
And eighthly, and last, I would retain zug and schlag, with their pendants, and discard the rest of the vocabulary. This would simplify the language.
I have now named what I regard as the most necessary and important changes. These are perhaps all I could be expected to name for nothing; but there are other suggestions which I can and will make in case my proposed application shall result in my being formally employed by the government in the work of reforming the language.
My philological studies have satisfied me that a gifted person ought to learn English (barring spelling and pronouncing) in thirty hours, French in thirty days, and German in thirty years. It seems manifest, then, that the latter tongue ought to be trimmed down and repaired. If it is to remain as it is, it ought to be gently and reverently set aside among the dead languages, for only the dead have time to learn it.
A Fourth Of July Oration In The German Tongue, Delivered At A Banquet Of The Anglo-American Club Of Students By The Author Of This Book
Gentlemen: Since I arrived, a month ago, in this old wonderland, this vast garden of Germany, my English tongue has so often proved a useless piece of baggage to me, and so troublesome to carry around, in a country where they haven't the checking system for luggage, that I finally set to work, and learned the German language. Also! Es freut mich dass dies so ist, denn es muss, in ein hauptsächlich degree, höflich sein, dass man auf ein occasion like this, sein Rede in die Sprache des Landes worin he boards, aussprechen soll. Dafür habe ich, aus reinische Verlegenheit--no, Vergangenheit--no, I mean Höflichkeit--aus reinishe Höflichkeit habe ich resolved to tackle this business in the German language, um Gottes willen! Also! Sie müssen so freundlich sein, und verzeih mich die interlarding von ein oder zwei Englischer Worte, hier und da, denn ich finde dass die deutsche is not a very copious language, and so when you've really got anything to say, you've got to draw on a language that can stand the strain.
Wenn haber man kann nicht meinem Rede Verstehen, so werde ich ihm später dasselbe übersetz, wenn er solche Dienst verlangen wollen haben werden sollen sein hätte. (I don't know what wollen haben werden sollen sein hätte means, but I notice they always put it at the end of a German sentence--merely for general literary gorgeousness, I suppose.)
This is a great and justly honored day--a day which is worthy of the veneration in which it is held by the true patriots of all climes and nationalities--a day which offers a fruitful theme for thought and speech; und meinem Freunde--no, meinen Freunden--meines Freundes--well, take your choice, they're all the same price; I don't know which one is right--also! ich habe gehabt haben worden gewesen sein, as Goethe says in his Paradise Lost--ich--ich--that is to say--ich--but let us change cars.
Also! Die Anblich so viele Grossbrittanischer und Amerikanischer hier zusammengetroffen in Brüderliche concord, ist zwar a welcome and inspiriting spectacle. And what has moved you to it? Can the terse German tongue rise to the expression of this impulse? Is it Freundschaftsbezeigungenstadtverordneten- versammlungenfamilieneigenthümlichkeiten? Nein, o nein! This is a crisp and noble word, but it fails to pierce the marrow of the impulse which has gathered this friendly meeting and produced diese Anblick--eine Anblick welche ist gut zu sehen--gut für die Augen in a foreign land and a far country--eine Anblick solche als in die gewöhnliche Heidelberger phrase nennt man ein "schönes Aussicht!" Ja, freilich natürlich wahrscheinlich ebensowohl! Also! Die Aussicht auf dem Königsstuhl mehr grösser ist, aber geistlische sprechend nicht so schön, lob' Gott! Because sie sind hier zusammengetroffen, in Brüderlichem concord, ein grossen Tag zu feirn, whose high benefits were not for one land and one locality, but have conferred a measure of good upon all lands that know liberty today, and love it. Hundert Jahre vorüber, waren die Engländer und die Amerikaner Feinde; aber heut sind sie herzlichen Freunde, Gott sei Dank! May this good-fellowship endure; may these banners here blended in amity so remain; may they never any more wave over opposing hosts, or be stained with blood which was kindred, is kindred, and always will be kindred, until a line drawn upon a map shall be able to say: "This bars the ancestral blood from flowing in the veins of the descendant!"
1. Wenn er aber auf der Straße der in Samt und Seide gehüllten jetzt sehr ungeniert nach der neusten Mode gekleideten Regierungsrätin begegnet.
2. I capitalize the nouns, in the German (and ancient English) fashion.
3. It merely means, in its general sense, "herewith."
4. "Verdammt," and its variations and enlargements, are words which have plenty of meaning, but the SOUNDS are so mild and ineffectual that German ladies can use them without sin. German ladies who could not be induced to commit a sin by any persuasion or compulsion, promptly rip out one of these harmless little words when they tear their dresses or don't like the soup. It sounds about as wicked as our "My gracious." German ladies are constantly saying, "Ach! Gott!" "Mein Gott!" "Gott im Himmel!" "Herr Gott" "Der Herr Jesus!" etc. They think our ladies have the same custom, perhaps; for I once heard a gentle and lovely old German lady say to a sweet young American girl: "The two languages are so alike--how pleasant that is; we say 'Ach! Gott!' you say 'Goddamn.'"