roism and fearlessness pour life and strength
through the veins and muscles, the eyes sparkle, the breast heaves, all
the limbs arm themselves alike for combat--the man has the appearance of
a war-horse. Fright and fear extinguish the fire in the eyes, the limbs
sink powerless and heavy, the marrow in the bones seems frozen, the blood
falls back on the heart like a stone, a general weakness cripples the
powers of life.

A great, bold, lofty thought compels us to stand on tiptoe, to hold up
the head, to expand the mouth and nose. The feeling of eternity, the
outlook on a wide open horizon, the sea, etc., make us stretch out our
arms--we would merge ourselves into the eternal: with the mountains, we
would grow towards the heavens, rush thither on storms and waves: yawning
abysses throw us down in giddiness. In like manner, hate is expressed in
the body by a repelling force; while, on the contrary, in every pressure
of the hand, in every embrace, our body will merge into that of our
friend, in the same manner as the souls are in harmonious combination.
Pride makes the body erect as the soul rises; pettiness bends the head,
the limbs hang down; servile fear is expressed in the cringing walk; the
thought of pain distorts our face, if pleasurable aspects spread a grace
over the whole body; anger, on the other hand, will break through every
strong opposing cord, and need will almost overcome the impossible. I
would now ask through what mechanism it happens that exactly these
movements result from these feelings, that just these organs are affected
by these passions? Might I not just as well want to know why a certain
wounding of the ligament should stiffen the lower jaw?

If the passion which sympathetically awakened these movements of the
frame be often renewed, if this sensation of soul become habitual, then
these movements of the body will become so also. If this matured passion
be of a lasting character, then these constitutional features of the
frame become deeply engraved: they become, if I may borrow the
pathologist's word, "deuteropathetic," and are at last organic. Thus, at
last, the firm perennial physiognomy of man is formed, so that it is
almost easier afterwards to change the soul than the form. In this
sense, one may also say, without being a "Stahlian," that the soul forms
the body; and perhaps the earliest years of youth decide the features of
a man for life, as they certainly are the foundation of his moral
c