THE CONTROVERSY BETWEEN HEBREW AND YIDDISH
THE growth and development of every language is in a great measure, dependent on the growth and progress of its literature. And though the literary language draws it materials mainly from the sources of the vernacular, it is governed by its own laws, develops in accordance with inherent rules peculiar to itself and systematically remodels the given material, works it over into a new fashion, combines and disintegrates and creates altogether a semi-natural and semi-artificial language. This literary tongue in its turn exerts an exceedingly great influence on the vernacular and adds to it a certain lustre, polish and precision.
That there is a great distinction between the spoken language. and the written one in form, construction and in tke method of general expression, is a matter beyond controversy. And furthermore, in spite of the objection of quasi-democrats to stoop to the plain people, and write, as they put it, as plain as one speaks, the writers in all probability will continue to arrange their thoughts in such a manner that the language employed by them will look dif- erent from what it would have been were it spoken.
The style of the writer who sits calmly at his desk and weighs, so as to speak, every expression before putting it down on paper, and in addition, is invested with the privilege of making free use of the eraser, makes a thorough search of his vocabulary to find fitting words to. suit his ideas and who condenses or expands to his heart’s desire, and who, in brief, has the opportunity of cömbining the vigor of facts told in a straight forward way and the grandeur and sublimity of form—
such a style will surely be different from the ordinary speech that flows lightly and indiscriminately, and, as it were, thoughtlessly.
On the other hand, there is a great deal of truth in the assertion, that were it not for the vernacular, the literary language would grow immobile, petrified and frozen, that though it would be possessed of a certain beauty and sincerity of its own, a language would be a poor medium to express the flux and transmutations of life, its ebb and flow; a frail vehicle of conveyance for life's circular movement, its light and shade. Not to say that it would be next to impossible to portray things that are in the process of making, are anticipated, but yet invisible, in a frozen Inguage destitude of life. Great hardships would also be encountered by the one who would try to delineate the light side of life, the comical phases of man and his doings and thus make us burst into laughter, since such an achievement is possible only when one has to do with the language possessed of a subtlety and nimbleness and of a capability to produce a twist and a gesture which react on our risibilities and in consequence, an involuntary laughter germinates, but is absolutely impossible in case of a language that is fixed and hardened.
At a matter of fact, no one doubts the intrinsic value of the vernacular for the literary language as a modifier and fertilizer. But at the same time the influence of the literary language on the vernacular cannot be denied. If it were not for it, the vernacular would be overrun with weeds and briars, awkward expressions and meaningless slang. And it is the literary language that purifies our speech and