simplicity of beginnings applies to language not less naturally and
necessarily than to other instrumentalities” (G 226), we are drawn
to the conclusion that primitive language had a superabundance of
irregularities and anomalies, in syntax and word-formation no less
than in accidence. It was capricious and fanciful, and displayed a
luxuriant growth of forms, entangled one with another like the trees in
a primeval forest. “Rien n’entre mieux dans les esprits grossiers que
les subtilités des langues” (Tarde, _Lois de l’imitation_ 285). Human
minds in the early times disported themselves in long and intricate
words as in the wildest and most wanton play. Nothing could be more
beside the mark than to suppose that grammatical and logical categories
were in primitive languages generally in harmony (as is supposed,
e.g., by Sweet, _New Engl. Grammar_ § 543): primitive speech cannot
have been distinguished for logical consistency; nor, so far as we can
judge, was it simple and facile: it is much more likely to have been
extremely clumsy and unwieldy. Renan rightly reminds us of Turgot’s
wise saying: “Des hommes grossiers ne font rien de simple. Il faut des
hommes perfectionnés pour y arriver.”
We have seen in earlier chapters that the old theory of the three
stages through which human language was supposed always to proceed,
isolation, agglutination and flexion, was built up on insufficient
materials; but while we feel tempted totally to reverse this system, we
must be on our guard against establishing too rigid and too absolute a
system ourselves. It would not do simply to reverse the order and say
that flexion is the oldest stage, from which language tends through
an agglutinative stage towards complete isolation, for flexion,
agglutination and isolation do not include all possible structural
types of speech. The possibilities of development are so manifold,
and there are such innumerable ways of arriving at more or less
adequate expressions for human thought, that it is next to impossible
to compare languages of different families. Even, therefore, if it is
probable that English, Finnish and Chinese are all simplifications
of more complex languages, we cannot say that Chinese, for instance,
at one time resembled English in structure and at some other time
Finnish. English was once a flexional language, and is still so in some
respects, while in others it is agglutinative, and in others again
isolating, or nearly so. But we may perhaps give the following formula
of what is our total impression of the whole preceding inquiry:
THE EVOLUTION OF LANGUAGE SHOWS A PROGRESSIVE TENDENCY FROM INSEPARABLE
IRREGULAR CONGLOMERATIONS TO FREELY AND REGULARLY COMBINABLE SHORT
ELEMENTS.
The old system of historical linguistics may be likened to an enormous
pyramid; only it is a pity that it should have as its base the small,
square, strong, smart root word, and suspended above it the unwieldy,
lumbering, ill-proportioned, flexion-encumbered sentence-vocable.
Structures of this sort may with some adroitness be made to stand; but
their equilibrium is unstable, and sooner or later they will inevitably
tumble over.
XXI.--§ 10. Vocabulary.
On the lexical side of language we find a development parallel to
that noticed in grammar; and, indeed, if we go deep enough into the
question, we shall see that it is really the very same movement that
has taken place. The more advanced a language is, the more developed
is its power of expressing abstract or general ideas. Everywhere
language has first attained to expressions for the concrete and
special. In accounts of the languages of barbarous races we constantly
come across such phrases as these: “The aborigines of Tasmania had
no words representing abstract ideas; for each variety of gum-tree
and wattle-tree, etc., they had a name; but they had no equivalent
for the expression ‘a tree’; neither could they express abstract
qualities, such as ‘hard, soft, warm, cold, long, short, round’”;
or, The Mohicans have words for cutting various objects, but none to
convey _cutting_ simply. The Zulus have no word for ‘cow,’ but words
for ‘red cow,’ ‘white cow,’ etc. (Sayce S 2. 5, cf. 1. 121). In Bakaïri
(Central Brazil) “each parrot has its special name, and the general
idea ‘parrot’ is totally unknown, as well as the general idea ‘palm.’
But they know precisely the qualities of each subspecies of parrot
and palm, and attach themselves so much to these numerous particular
notions that they take no interest in the common characteristics.
They are choked in the abundance of the material and cannot manage
it economically. They have only small coin, but in that they must
be said to be excessively rich rather than poor” (K. v. d. Steinen,
_Unter den Naturvölkern Brasiliens_, 1894, 81). The Lithuanians, like
many primitive tribes, have many special, but no common names for
various colours: one word for gray in speaking about wool and geese,
one about horses, one about cattle, one about the hair of men and some
animals, and in the same way for other colours (J. Schmidt, _Kritik d.
Sonantentheorie_ 37). Many languages have no word for ‘brother,’ but
words for ‘elder brother’ and ‘younger brother’; others have different
words according to whose (person and number) father or brother it is
(see, e.g., the paradigm in Gabelentz Spr 421), and the same applies
in many languages to names for various parts of the body. In Cherokee,
instead of one word for ‘washing’ we find different words, according
to what is washed: _kutuwo_ ‘I wash myself,’ _kulestula_ ‘I wash my
head,’ _tsestula_ ‘I wash the head of somebody else,’ _kukuswo_ ‘I wash
my face,’ _tsekuswo_ ‘I wash the face of somebody else,’ _takasula_ ‘I
wash my hands or feet,’ _takunkela_ ‘I wash my clothes,’ _takutega_ ‘I
wash dishes,’ _tsejuwu_ ‘I wash a child,’ _kowela_ ‘I wash meat’ (see,
however, the criticism of Hewitt, _Am. Anthropologist_, 1893, 398).
Primitive man did not see the wood for the trees.[108]
In some Amerindian languages there are distinct series of numerals for
various classes of objects; thus in Kwakiatl and Tsimoshian (Sapir,
_Language and Environment_ 239); similarly the Melanesians have special
words to denote a definite number of certain objects, e.g. _a buku
niu_ ‘two coconuts,’ _a buru_ ‘ten coconuts,’ _a koro_ ‘a hundred
coconuts,’ _a selavo_ ‘a thousand coconuts,’ _a uduudu_ ‘ten canoes,’
_a bola_ ‘ten fishes,’ etc. (Gabelentz, _Die melan. Spr._ 1. 23). In
some languages the numerals are the same for all classes of objects
counted, but require after them certain class-denoting words varying
according to the character of the objects (in some respects comparable
to the English twenty _head_ of cattle, Pidgin _piecey_; cf. Yule and
Burnell, Hobson-Jobson s.v. Numerical Affixes). This reminds one of
the systems of weights and measures, which even in civilized countries
up to a comparatively recent period varied not only from country to
country, sometimes even from district to district, but even in the same
country according to the things weighed or measured (in England _stone_
and _ton_ still vary in this way).
In old Gothonic poetry we find an astonishing abundance of words
translated in our dictionaries by ‘sea,’ ‘battle,’ ‘sword,’ ‘hero,’ and
the like: these may certainly be considered as relics of an earlier
state of things, in which each of these words had its separate shade
of meaning, which was subsequently lost and which it is impossible
now to determine with certainty. The nomenclature of a remote past
was undoubtedly constructed upon similar principles to those which
are still preserved in a word-group like _horse_, _mare_, _stallion_,
_foal_, _colt_, instead of he-horse, she-horse, young horse, etc.
This sort of grouping has only survived in a few cases in which a
lively interest has been felt in the objects or animals concerned.
We may note, however, the different terms employed for essentially
the same idea in a _flock_ of sheep, a _pack_ of wolves, a _herd_ of
cattle, a _bevy_ of larks, a _covey_ of partridges, a _shoal_ of fish.
Primitive language could show a far greater number of instances of this
description, and, so far, had a larger vocabulary than later languages,
though, of course, it lacked names for a great number of ideas that
were outside the sphere of interest of uncivilized people.
There was another reason for the richness of the vocabulary of
primitive man: his superstition about words, which made him avoid the
use of certain words under certain circumstances--during war, when out
fishing, during the time of the great cultic festivals, etc.--because
he feared the anger of gods or demons if he did not religiously observe
the rules of the linguistic tabu. Accordingly, in many cases he had
two or more sets of words for exactly the same notions, of which later
generations as a rule preserved only one, unless they differentiated
these words by utilizing them to discriminate objects that were similar
but not identical.
XXI.--§ 11. Poetry and Prose.
On the whole the development of languages, even in the matter of
vocabulary, must be considered to have taken a beneficial course;
still, in certain respects one may to some extent regret the
consequences of this evolution. While our words are better adapted to
express abstract things and to render concrete things with definite
precision, they are necessarily comparatively colourless. The old
words, on the contrary, spoke more immediately to the senses--they
were manifestly more suggestive, more graphic and pictorial: while to
express one single thing we are not unfrequently obliged to piece the
image together bit by bit, the old concrete words would at once present
it to the hearer’s mind as a whole; they were, accordingly, better
adapted to poetic purposes. Nor is this the only point in which we see
a close relationship between primitive words and poetry.
If by a mental effort we transport ourselves to a period in which
language consisted solely of such graphic concrete words, we shall
discover that, in spite of their number, they would not suffice, taken
all together, to cover everything that needed expression; a wealth
in such words is not incompatible with a certain poverty. They would
accordingly often be required to do service outside of their proper
sphere of application. That a figurative or metaphorical use of words
is a factor of the utmost importance in the life of all languages is
indisputable; but I am probably right in thinking that it played a
more prominent part in old times than now. In the course of ages a
great many metaphors have lost their freshness and vividness, so that
nobody feels them to be metaphors any longer. Examine closely such a
sentence as this: “He _came_ to _look upon_ the low _ebb_ of morals
as an _outcome_ of bad _taste_,” and you will find that nearly every
word is a dead metaphor.[109] But the better stocked a language is with
those ex-metaphors which have become regular expressions for definite
ideas, the less need there is for going out of one’s way to find new
metaphors. The expression of thought therefore tends to become more and
more mechanical or prosaic.
Primitive man, however, on account of the nature of his language, was
constantly reduced to using words and phrases figuratively: he was
forced to express his thoughts in the language of poetry. The speech
of modern savages is often spoken of as abounding in similes and all
kinds of figurative phrases and allegorical expressions. Just as in
the literature transmitted to us poetry is found in every country to
precede prose, so poetic language is on the whole older than prosaic
language; lyrics and cult songs come before science, and Oehlenschläger
is right when he sings (in N. Møller’s translation):
Thus Nature drove us; warbling rose
Man’s voice in verse before he spoke in prose.
XXI.--§ 12. Emotional Songs.
If we now try to sum up what has been inferred about primitive speech,
we see that by our backward march we arrived at a language whose
units had a very meagre substance of thought, and this as specialized
and concrete as possible; but at the same time the phonetic body was
ample; and the bigger and longer the words, the thinner the thoughts!
Much cry and little wool! No period has seen less taciturn people than
the first framers of speech; primitive speakers were not reticent
and reserved beings, but youthful men and women babbling merrily on,
without being so very particular about the meaning of each word. They
did not narrowly weigh every syllable--what were a couple of syllables
more or less to them? They chattered away for the mere pleasure of
chattering, resembling therein many a mother of our own time, who
will chatter away to baby without measuring her words or looking too
closely into the meaning of each; nay, who is not a bit troubled by the
consideration that the little deary does not understand a single word
of her affectionate eloquence. But primitive speech--and we return
here to an idea thrown out above--still more resembles the speech of
little baby himself, before he begins to frame his own language after
the pattern of the grown-ups; the language of our remote forefathers
was like that ceaseless humming and crooning with which no thoughts
are as yet connected, which merely amuses and delights the little
one. Language originated as play, and the organs of speech were first
trained in this singing sport of idle hours.
Primitive language had no great store of ideas, and if we consider
it as an instrument for expressing thoughts, it was clumsy, unwieldy
and ineffectual; but what did that matter? Thoughts were not the
first things to press forward and crave for expression; emotions and
instincts were more primitive and far more powerful. But what emotions
were most powerful in producing germs of speech? To be sure not hunger
and that which is connected with hunger: mere individual self-assertion
and the struggle for material existence. This prosaic side of life was
only capable of calling forth short monosyllabic interjections, howls
of pain and grunts of satisfaction or dissatisfaction; but these are
isolated and incapable of much further development; they are the most
immutable portions of language, and remain now at essentially the same
standpoint as thousands of years ago.
If after spending some time over the deep metaphysical speculations
of a number of German linguistic philosophers you turn to men like
Madvig and Whitney, you are at once agreeably impressed by the
sobriety of their reasoning and their superior clearness of thought.
But if you look more closely, you cannot help thinking that they
imagine our primitive ancestors after their own image as serious and
well-meaning men endowed with a large share of common-sense. By their
laying such great stress on the communication of thought as the end of
language and on the benefit to primitive man of being able to speak
to his fellow-creatures about matters of vital importance, they leave
you with the impression that these “first framers of speech” were
sedate citizens with a strong interest in the purely business and
matter-of-fact side of life; indeed, according to Madvig, women had no
share in the creating of language.
In opposition to this rationalistic view I should like, for once in a
way, to bring into the field the opposite view: the genesis of language
is not to be sought in the prosaic, but in the poetic side of life;
the source of speech is not gloomy seriousness, but merry play and
youthful hilarity. And among the emotions which were most powerful in
eliciting outbursts of music and of song, love must be placed in the
front rank. To the feeling of love, which has left traces of its vast
influence on countless points in the evolution of organic nature, are
due not only, as Darwin has shown, the magnificent colours of birds
and flowers, but also many of the things that fill us with joy in
human life; it inspired many of the first songs, and through them was
instrumental in bringing about human language. In primitive speech I
hear the laughing cries of exultation when lads and lasses vied with
one another to attract the attention of the other sex, when everybody
sang his merriest and danced his bravest to lure a pair of eyes to
throw admiring glances in his direction. Language was born in the
courting days of mankind; the first utterances of speech I fancy to
myself like something between the nightly love-lyrics of puss upon the
tiles and the melodious love-songs of the nightingale.[110]
XXI.--§ 13. Primitive Singing.
Love, however, was not the only feeling which tended to call forth
primitive songs. Any strong emotion, and more particularly any
pleasurable excitement, might result in song. Singing, like any other
sort of play, is due to an overflow of energy, which is discharged
in “unusual vivacity of every kind, including vocal vivacity.” Out
of the full heart the mouth sings! Savages will sing whenever they
are excited: exploits of war or of the chase, the deeds of their
ancestors, the coming of a fat dog, any incident “from the arrival
of a stranger to an earthquake” is turned into a song; and most of
these songs are composed extempore. “When rowing, the Coast negroes
sing either a description of some love intrigue or the praise of some
woman celebrated for her beauty.” The Malays beguile all their leisure
hours with the repetition of songs, etc. “In singing, the East African
contents himself with improvising a few words without sense or rime and
repeats them till they nauseate.” (These quotations, and many others,
are found in Herbert Spencer’s _Essay on the Origin of Music_, with
his Postscript.) The reader of Karl Bücher’s painstaking work _Arbeit
und Rhythmus_ (2te aufl. 1899) will know from his numerous examples
and illustrations what an enormous rôle rhythmic singing plays in
the daily life of savages all over the world, how each kind of work,
especially if it is done by many jointly, has its own kind of song,
and how nothing is done except to the sound of vocal music. In many
instances savages are mentioned as very expert in adapting the subjects
of their songs to current events. Nor is this sort of singing on every
and any occasion confined to savages; it is found wherever the indoor
life of civilization has not killed all open-air hilarity; formerly
in our Western Europe people sang much more than they do now. The
Swedish peasant Jonas Stolt (ab. 1820) writes: “I have known a time
when young people were singing from morning till eve. Then they were
carolling both out- and indoors, behind the plough as well as at the
threshing-floor and at the spinning-wheel. This is all over long ago:
nowadays there is silence everywhere; if someone were to try and sing
in our days as we did of old, people would term it bawling.”
The first things that were expressed in song were, to be sure, neither
deep nor wise; how could you expect it? Note the frequency with which
we are told that the songs of savages consist of or contain totally
meaningless syllables. Thus we read about American Indians that “the
native word which is translated ‘song’ does not suggest any use of
words. To the Indian, the music is of primal importance; words may
or may not accompany the music. When words are used in song, they
are rarely employed as a narrative, the sentences are not apt to be
complete” (Louise Pound, Mod. Lang. Ass. 32. 224), and similarly: “Even
where the slightest vestiges of epic poetry are missing, lyric poetry
of one form or another is always present. It may consist of the musical
use of meaningless syllables that sustain the song; or it may consist
largely of such syllables, with a few interspersed words suggesting
certain ideas and certain feelings; or it may rise to the expression of
emotions connected with warlike deeds, with religious feeling, love,
or even to the praise of the beauties of nature” (Boas, _International
Journ. Amer. Ling._ 1. 8). The magic incantations of the Greenland
Eskimo, according to W. Thalbitzer, contain many incomprehensible
words never used outside these songs (but have they ever been real
words?), and the same is said about the mystic religious formulas of
Maoris and African negroes and many other tribes, as well as about
the old Roman hymns of the Arval Brethren. The mere joy in sonorous
combinations here no doubt counts for very much, as in the splendid but
meaningless metrical lists of names in the Old Norse Edda, and in many
a modern refrain, too. Let me give one example of half (or less than
half) understood strings of syllables from “The Oath of the Canting
Crew” (1749, Farmer’s _Musa Pedestris_, 51):
No dimber, dambler, angler, dancer,
Prig of cackler, prig of prancer;
No swigman, swaddler, clapper-dudgeon,
Cadge-gloak, curtal, or curmudgeon;
No whip-jack, palliard, patrico;
No jarkman, be he high or low;
No dummerar or romany ...
Nor any other will I suffer.
In the cultic and ceremonial songs of savage tribes in many parts of
the world this is a prominent trait: it seems, indeed, to be universal.
Even with us the thoughts associated with singing are generally neither
very clear nor very abstruse; like humming or whistling, singing is
often nothing more than an almost automatic outcome of a mood; and
“What is not worth saying can be sung.” Besides, it has been the case
at all times that things transient and trivial have found readier
expression than Socratic wisdom. But the frivolous use tuned the
instrument, and rendered it little by little more serviceable to a
multiplicity of purposes, so that it became more and more fitted to
express everything that touched human souls.
Men sang out their feelings long before they were able to speak their
thoughts. But of course we must not imagine that “singing” means
exactly the same thing here as in a modern concert hall. When we
say that speech originated in song, what we mean is merely that our
comparatively monotonous spoken language and our highly developed vocal
music are differentiations of primitive utterances, which had more in
them of the latter than of the former. These utterances were at first,
like the singing of birds and the roaring of many animals and the
crying and crooning of babies, exclamative, not communicative--that
is, they came forth from an inner craving of the individual without
any thought of any fellow-creatures. Our remote ancestors had not the
slightest notion that such a thing as communicating ideas and feelings
to someone else was possible. They little suspected that in singing as
nature prompted them they were paving the way for a language capable
of rendering minute shades of thought; just as they could not suspect
that out of their coarse pictures of men and animals there should
one day grow an art enabling men of distant countries to speak to
one another. As is the art of writing to primitive painting, so is
the art of speaking to primitive singing. And the development of the
two vehicles of communication of thought presents other curious and
instructive parallels. In primitive picture-writing, each sign meant a
whole sentence or even more--the image of a situation or of an incident
being given as a whole; this developed into an ideographic writing of
each word by itself; this system was succeeded by syllabic methods,
which had in their turn to give place to alphabetic writing, in which
each letter stands for, or is meant to stand for, one sound. Just as
here the advance is due to a further analysis of language, smaller
and smaller units of speech being progressively represented by single
signs, in an exactly similar way, though not quite so unmistakably, the
history of language shows us a progressive tendency towards analyzing
into smaller and smaller units that which in the earlier stages was
taken as an inseparable whole.
One point must be constantly kept in mind. Although we now regard the
communication of thought as the main object of speaking, there is no
reason for thinking that this has always been the case; it is perfectly
possible that speech has developed from something which had no other
purpose than that of exercising the muscles of the mouth and throat and
of amusing oneself and others by the production of pleasant or possibly
only strange sounds. The motives for uttering sounds may have changed
entirely in the course of centuries without the speakers being at any
point conscious of this change within them.
XXI.--§ 14. Approach to Language.
We get the first approach to language proper when communicativeness
takes precedence of exclamativeness, when sounds are uttered in
order to ‘tell’ fellow-creatures something, as when birds warn their
young ones of some imminent danger. In the case of human language,
communication is infinitely more full and rich and elaborate; the
question therefore is a very complex one: How did the association of
sound and sense come about? How did that which originally was a jingle
of meaningless sounds come to be an instrument of thought? How did man
become, as Humboldt has somewhere defined him, “a singing creature,
only associating thoughts with the tones”?
In the case of an onomatopoetic or echo-word like _bow-wow_ and an
interjection like _pooh-pooh_ the association was easy and direct;
such words were at once employed and understood as signs for the
corresponding idea. But this was not the case with the great bulk
of language. Here association of sound with sense must have been
arrived at by devious and circuitous ways, which to a great extent
evade inquiry and make a detailed exposition impossible. But this is
in exact conformity with very much that has taken place in recent
periods; as we have learnt in previous chapters, it is only by indirect
and roundabout ways that many words and grammatical expedients have
acquired the meanings they now have, or have acquired meaning where
they originally had none. Let me remind the reader of the word _grog_
(p. 308), of interrogative particles (p. 358), of word order (p. 356),
of many endings (Ch. XIX § 13 ff.), of tones (Ch. XIX § 5), of the
French negative _pas_, of vowel-alternations like those in _drink_,
_drank_, _drunk_, or in _foot_, _feet_, etc. Language is a complicated
affair, and no more than most other human inventions has it come about
in a simple way: mankind has not moved in a straight line towards a
definitely perceived goal, but has muddled along from moment to moment
and has thereby now and then stumbled on some happy expedient which has
then been retained in accordance with the principle of the survival of
the fittest.
We may perhaps succeed in forming some idea of the most primitive
process of associating sound and sense if we call to mind what was
said above on the signification of the earliest words, and try to
fathom what that means. The first words must have been as concrete
and specialized in meaning as possible. Now, what are the words whose
meaning is the most concrete and the most specialized? Without any
doubt proper names--that is, of course, proper names of the good old
kind, borne by and denoting only one single individual. How easily
might not such names spring up in a primitive state such as that
described above! In the songs of a particular individual there would
be a constant recurrence of a particular series of sounds sung with a
particular cadence; no one can doubt the possibility of such individual
habits being contracted in olden as well as in present times. Suppose,
then, that “in the spring time, the only pretty ring time” a lover
was in the habit of addressing his lass “with a hey, and a ho, and a
hey nonino.” His comrades and rivals would not fail to remark this,
and would occasionally banter him by imitating and repeating his
“hey-and-a-ho-and-a-hey-nonino.” But when once this had been recognized
as what Wagner would term a person’s ‘leitmotiv,’ it would be no far
cry from mimicking it to using the “hey-and-a-ho-and-a-hey-nonino” as
a sort of nickname for the man concerned; it might be employed, for
instance, to signal his arrival. And when once proper names had been
bestowed, common names (or nouns) would not be slow in following; we
see the transition from one to the other class in constant operation,
names originally used exclusively to denote an individual being
used metaphorically to connote that person’s most characteristic
peculiarities, as when we say of one man that he is a ‘Crœsus’ or a
‘Vanderbilt’ or ‘Rockefeller,’ and of another that he is ‘no Bismarck.’
A German schoolboy in the ’eighties said in his history lesson that
Hannibal swore he would always be a _Frenchman_ to the Romans. This is,
at least, one of the ways in which language arrives at designations of
such ideas as ‘rich,’ ‘statesman’ and ‘enemy.’ From the proper name
of _Cæsar_ we have both the Russian _tsar’_ and the German _kaiser_,
and from _Karol_ (Charlemagne) Russian _korol’_ ‘king’ (also in the
other Slav languages) and Magyar _király_. Besides being designations
for persons, proper names may also in some cases come to mean tools
or other objects, originally in most cases probably as a term of
endearment, as when in thieves’ slang a crowbar or lever is called a
_betty_ or _jemmy_; E. _derrick_ and _dirk_, as well as G. _dietrich_,
Dan. _dirk_, Swed. _dyrk_, is nothing but _Dietrich_ (_Derrick_,
_Theodoricus_), and thus in innumerable instances. In the École
polytechnique in Paris there are many words of the same character:
_bacha_ ‘cours d’allemand’ from a teacher, M. Bacharach, _borius_
‘bretelles’ from General Borius, _malo_ ‘éperon’ from Captain Malo,
etc. (MSL 15. 179). _Pamphlet_ is from Pamphilet, originally _Pamphilus
seu de Amore_, the name of a popular booklet on an erotic subject.
Compare also the history of the words _bluchers_, _jack_ (boot-jack,
jack for turning a spit, a pike, etc., also _jacket_), _pantaloon_,
_hansom_, _boycott_, _to burke_, to name only a few of the best-known
examples.
XXI.--§ 15. The Earliest Sentences.
Again, we saw above that the further back we went in the history of
known languages, the more the sentence was one indissoluble whole, in
which those elements which we are accustomed to think of as single
words were not yet separated. Now, the idea that language began
with sentences, not with words, appears to Whitney (_Am. Journ. of
Philol._ 1. 338) to be, “if capable of any intelligent and intelligible
statement, _a fortiori_, too wild and baseless to deserve respectful
mention” (cf. also Madvig Kl 85). But the absurdity appears only if
we think of sentences like those found in our languages, consisting
of elements (words) capable of being used in other combinations and
there forming other sentences: this seems to be what Gabelentz (Spr
351) imagines; but it is not so wild to imagine as the first beginning
something which can be _translated_ into our languages by means of a
sentence, but which is not ‘articulated’ in the same way as such a
sentence; we translate or explain the dental click (‘_tut_’) by means
of the sentence ‘that is a pity,’ but the interjection is not in other
respects a grammatical ‘sentence.’ Or we may take an illustration from
the modern use of a telegraphic code: if _suzaw_ means ‘I have not
received your telegram,’ or _sempo_ ‘reserve one single room and bath
at first-class hotel’--we have unanalyzable wholes capable of being
rendered in complete sentences, but not in every way analogous to these
sentences.
Now, it is just units of this character (though not, of course, with
exactly the same kind of meaning as the two code words) whose genesis
we can most easily imagine on the supposition of a primitive period
of meaningless singing. If a certain number of people have together
witnessed some incident and have accompanied it with some sort of
impromptu song or refrain, the two ideas are associated, and later on
the same song will tend to call forth in the memory of those who were
present the idea of the whole situation. Suppose some dreaded enemy has
been defeated and slain; the troop will dance round the dead body and
strike up a chant of triumph, say something like ‘Tarara-boom-de-ay!’
This combination of sounds, sung to a certain melody, will now easily
become what might be called a proper name for that particular event; it
might be roughly translated, ‘The terrible foe from beyond the river is
slain,’ or ‘We have killed the dreadful man from beyond the river,’ or,
‘Do you remember when we killed him?’ or something of the same sort.
Under slightly altered circumstances it may become the proper name of
the man who slew the enemy. The development can now proceed further by
a metaphorical transference of the expression to similar situations
(‘There is another man of the same tribe: let us kill him as we did
the first!’) or by a blending of two or more of these proper-name
melodies. How this kind of blending may lead to the development of
something like derivative affixes may be gathered from our chapter on
Secretion; it may also result in parts of the whole melodic utterance
being disengaged as something more like our ‘words.’ From the nature
of the subject it is impossible to give more than hints, but I seem to
see ways by which primitive ‘lieder ohne worte’ may have become, first,
indissoluble rigmaroles, with something like a dim meaning attached to
them, and then gradually combinations of word-like smaller units, more
and more capable of being analyzed and combined with others of the same
kind. Anyhow, this theory seems to explain better than any other the
great part which fortuitous coincidence and irregularity always play in
that part of any language which is not immediately intelligible, thus
both in lexical and grammatical elements.
Primitive man came to attach meaning to what were originally rambling
sequences of syllables in pretty much the same way as the child comes
to attach a meaning to many of the words he hears from his elders,
the whole situation in which they are heard giving a clue to their
interpretation. The difference is that in the latter case the speaker
has already associated a meaning with the sound; but from the point
of view of the hearer this is comparatively immaterial: the savage of
a far-distant age hearing some syllables for the first time and the
child hearing them nowadays are in essentially the same position as
to their interpretation. Parallels are also found in the words of the
_mamma_ class (Ch. VIII § 8), in which hearers give a signification to
something pronounced unintentionally, the same syllables being then
capable of serving afterwards as real words. If one of our forebears
on some occasion accidentally produced a sequence of sounds, and if
the people around him were seen (or heard) to respond appreciatively,
he would tend to settle on the same string of sounds and repeat it
on similar occasions, and in this way it would gradually become
‘conventionalized’ as a symbol of what was then foremost in his and in
their minds. As in agriculture primitive man reaped before he sowed,
so also in his vocal outbursts he first reaped understanding, and then
discovered that by intentionally sowing the same seed he was able to
call forth the same result. And as with corn, he would slowly and
gradually, by weeding out (i.e. by not using) what was less useful to
him, improve the quality, till finally he had come into possession of
the marvellous, though far from perfect, instrument which we now call
our language. The development of our ordinary speech has been largely
an intellectualization, and the emotional quality which played the
largest part in primitive utterances has to some extent been repressed;
but it is not extinct, and still gives a definite colouring to all
passionate and eloquent speaking and to poetic diction. Language, after
all, is an art--one of the finest of arts.
XXI.--§ 16. Conclusion.
Language, then, began with half-musical unanalyzed expressions
for individual beings and solitary events. Languages composed of,
and evolved from, such words and quasi-sentences are clumsy and
insufficient instruments of thought, being intricate, capricious
and difficult. But from the beginning the tendency has been one of
progress, slow and fitful progress, but still progress towards greater
and greater clearness, regularity, ease and pliancy. No one language
has arrived at perfection; an ideal language would always express
the same thing by the same, and similar things by similar means; any
irregularity or ambiguity would be banished; sound and sense would be
in perfect harmony; any number of delicate shades of meaning could be
expressed with equal ease; poetry and prose, beauty and truth, thinking
and feeling would be equally provided for: the human spirit would have
found a garment combining freedom and gracefulness, fitting it closely
and yet allowing full play to any movement.
But, however far our present languages are from that ideal, we must be
thankful for what has been achieved, seeing that--
Language is a perpetual orphic song,
Which rules with Dædal harmony a throng
Of thoughts and forms, which else senseless and shapeless were.
FOOTNOTES:
[107] It may not be superfluous expressly to point out that there is no
contradiction between what is said here on the disappearance of tones
and the remarks made above (Ch. XIX § 4) on Chinese tones. There the
change wrought in the meaning of a word by a mere change of tone was
explained on the principle that the difference of meaning was at an
earlier stage expressed by affixes, the tone that is now concentrated
on one syllable belonging formerly to two syllables or perhaps more.
But this evidently presupposes that each syllable had already some
tone of its own--and that is what in this chapter is taken to be the
primitive state. Word-tones were originally frequent, but meaningless;
afterwards they were dropped in some languages, while in others they
were utilized for sense-distinguishing purposes.
[108] On the lack of abstract and general terms in savage languages,
see also Ginneken LP 108 and the works there quoted.
[109] Of course, if instead of _look upon_ and _outcome_ we had taken
the corresponding terms of Latin root, _consider_ and _result_, the
metaphors would have been still more dead to the natural linguistic
instinct.
[110] From the experience I had with my previous book, _Progress_,
from which this chapter has, with some alterations and amplifications,
passed into this volume, I feel impelled here to warn those critics
who do me the honour to mention my theory of the origin of language,
not to look upon it as if it were contained simply in my remarks on
primitive love-songs, etc., and as if it were based on _a priori_
considerations, like the older speculative theories. What I may perhaps
claim as my original contribution to the solution of this question
is the _inductive_ method based on the three sources of information
indicated on p. 416, and especially on the ‘backward’ consideration
of the history of language. Some critics think they have demolished
my view by simply representing it as a romantic dream of a primitive
golden age in which men had no occupation but courting and singing.
I have never believed in a far-off golden age, but rather incline to
believe in a progressive movement from a very raw and barbarous age to
something better, though it must be said that our own age, with its
national wars, world wars and class wars, makes one sometimes ashamed
to think how little progress our so-called civilization has made. But
primitive ages were probably still worse, and the only thing I have
felt bold enough to maintain is that in those days there were some
moments consecrated to youthful hilarity, and that this gave rise,
among other merriment, to vocal play of such a character as closely to
resemble what we may infer from the known facts of linguistic history
to have been a stage of language earlier than any of those accessible
to us. There is no ‘romanticism’ (in a bad sense) in such a theory, and
it can only be refuted by showing that the view of language and its
development on which it is based is erroneous from beginning to end.
INDEX
_a_ Sanskrit, 52;
_-a_ in fem., 392;
in pl., 394
_abbot_, 156
ablaut, _see_ apophony
abstract terms, 429
accent, _see_ stress _and_ tone
accusative, name, 20
actors, 276
adaptation of suffixes, 386 f.
adjective flexion, 129;
concord, 348 f.
African languages, _see_ Bantu
agglutination, 54, 58, 76, 376;
agglutination theory, 367 ff., 375 ff.
agreement, _see_ concord
ambiguities, 319, 341 ff.
America, race mixtures, 203 ff.
American English, 260
American Indian languages, 57, 181, 187, 229, 233, 256, 334, 425, 427, 430
analogy, 70, 93 f., 129 f., 162 f., 289
analytic languages, 36, 334 ff., 422 ff.
anatomical causes of change, 255
aphesis, 273
apophony, 46, 53, 91 ff., 311
aposiopesis, 273
appreciation of languages, 29 ff., 57 f., 60, 62, 319 ff.;
formula, 324
archaic forms, 294
Armenian, 195 f.
article, 378
Aryan, name, 63 f.;
languages, _passim_
_as_, root, 49
Ascoli, 192 ff.
assimilation, 109, 168 f., 264 f., 280
auxiliary words, 358
_babe_, 157
_bacco_, 171
back-formations, 173, 178
Balkan tongues, agreements, 215
Bantu, 239, 352 ff., 365
_-bar_, suffix, 377
Basque, 210, 427
Baudouin de Courtenay, 327
Bavarian _wo-st bist_, 281
Beach-la-Mar, 216 ff.
_bead_, 175
_bhu_, root, 49
bilinguism, 147 ff.
biographical or biological science of language, 8
blending, 132, 281 f., 311, 312 f., 390
Bloomfield, 390
_boon_, 175
Bopp, 47 ff., 56 n.
borrowing of words, 208
_bound_, 176
bow-wow theory, 413
boys, 146
Bredsdorff, 43 n., 70
Bridges, 286
Bröndal, 200
Brugmann, 92 f.;
on gender, 391
_bube_, 157
_buncombe_, 409
cacuminals, 196
Caribbean, 237 ff.
Carlyle, 145
case-system, English, 268 ff.;
in old languages, 337 ff.;
importance, 341
_catch_, 400
_ch_ becomes _f_, 168
changes, causes of, 255 ff.
child, 103 ff.;
sounds, 105;
understanding, 113;
classification of things, 114 f.;
vocabulary, 124;
grammar, 128 ff.;
sentences, 133;
echoism, 135;
why learns so well, 140;
influence of other children, 147;
word-invention, 151 ff.;
influence of, 161 ff.;
indirect influence, 178;
new languages, 180 ff.
Chinese, 36, 54, 57, 286, 369 ff.
Chinook, 228 ff.
classification of languages, 35 f., 54, 76 ff.
classifying instinct, 388
clicks, 415, 419
climate, 256
clippings, _see_ stump-words
coalescence of words, 174, 376 ff.
Cœurdoux, 33
Collitz, 45 n., 257, 381
concord, verbal, 335;
nominal, 348;
in Bantu, 352 ff.
concrete words, 429
Condillac, 27
confusion of words, 122, 172
congeneric groups, 389 f.
conjugation, _see_ verb
consciousness, 130;
threshold of, 138
consonant-shift, 43 ff., 195, 197, 204, 256, 258 f.
contamination, _see_ blending
convergent changes, 284 f.
copula, 48 f.
correctness, latitude of, 282 ff.
creation of new words, 151 ff.
Creole, 226 ff.
_cuckoo_, 406
cultural loan-words, 209
_curry favour_, 173
curtailing of words, 108, 169 f., 328 f.
Curtius, 83, 94
_-d_ in _loved_, 51, 381
Darwin, 414
dead languages, 67
decay, 55, 59, 62, 77, 319 ff.
declension, _see_ case-system
Delbrück, 93, 96
dialect, study of, 68;
spoken by children, 147
Diez, 85
differentiations, 176, 272
diminutives, 180, 402
ding-dong theory, 415
divergent changes, 288
doublets, 272
Dravidian influence on Indian, 196
drunken speech, 279
_dump_, 313
_e_ original in Aryan, 52, 91
ease theory, 261 ff.
echoism, 135;
cf. echo-words
echo-words, 313, 398 ff.
economizing of effort, _see_ ease-theory
effort in speaking, 261 ff., 324 ff.
_eglino_, 281
emotion, influence on sound, 276
_-en_ in plural, 385
ending, _see_ flexion, suffix
English, Grimm’s appreciation, 62;
foreign influence, 202, 210, 212 ff.;
rapid change, 261;
case-system, 268 ff.;
future tense, 274;
vowel-shift, 243, 284;
word-order, 344 f.;
genitive, 350
entangling, 422
equidistant changes, 284
_-er_ in plural, 386
estimation of languages, _see_ appreciation
Etruscan, 195
etymology, sound laws, 295;
principles, 305 ff.;
object of, 316;
etymology of _rag_, 300;
of _sun_, _say_, _see_, 306;
of _krieg_, 307;
of _grog_, _ganz_, 308;
of _hope_, 309;
of _nut_, _stumm_, 311;
of _mais_, _maar_, _men_, 315;
of _moon_, _daughter_, _mother_, 318
euphemism, 245 ff.
euphony, 278
exceptions to sound-laws, 296 ff.
exertion in speaking, 261 ff., 324 ff.
expressive sounds preserved, 288
extension of sound laws, 290;
of suffixes, 386 ff.
extra-lingual influences, 278
_f_ for _th_, 167;
in _enough_, etc., 168;
in Spanish, 193
fable in Proto-Aryan, 81
_fain_, 176
fashion in language, 291
_father_, 117
Feist, 194 ff.
feminine, 391 ff.;
in _-i_, 394, 402;
cf. woman
Finnic, 197 f., 207
flexion, 35, 54 f., 58 f., 76 ff., 79;
origin of, 377 ff.
foreign languages, mistakes in noting down, 116 f.;
influence of, 191 ff.
forgetfulness, 176
forms, number of, 332, 337;
origin of, 49, 58, 377 ff.
French influence on English, 202, 209, 214;
pronouns and verbs, 422 f.
frequency, influence on phonetic development, 267
_-ful_, suffix, 376
Gabelentz, 98, 369
_ganz_, 308
_gape_, 288
gender, 346 f., 391 ff.
general and specific terms, 274, 429 f.
genitive, name, 20;
group, 351;
_s_ in, 382, 383 n.
geographical distribution of languages, 187;
influence on change, 256
German language, appreciation of, 29, 31, 60;
sound-shift, 43 ff., 195 f., 283;
forms, 341 ff.;
word-order, 344
Germanic, _see_ Gothonic
gibberish, 149 f.
girls, 146
_gleam_, _gloom_, 401
glottogonic theories abandoned, 96
Gothonic (Germanic, Teutonic), 42;
sound-shift, _see_ consonant-shift
gradation, _see_ apophony
grammar, children’s, 128 ff.;
foreign influence, 213;
of primitive languages, 421
grammatical elements, origin, 48, 58, 61
Greek linguistic speculation, 19 f.;
vowels, 91;
personal pronouns, 286 n.;
Modern Greek, 301
Grimm, 37, 40 ff., 60 ff.
Grimm’s Law, 43 f.;
_see_ consonant-shift
_grog_, 308
group genitive, 129, 351;
groups of words with similar meaning, 389
_h_ for _f_ in Spanish, 193;
for _s_, etc., 263
_habaidedeima_, 322, 329, 331 f.
Hale, 181 ff.
haplology, 281, 329
harmony of vowels, 280
Hebrew, 21
Hegel, 72 f.
Hempl, 201 ff.
Herder, 27 f.
hereditary aptness for a language, 75, 141
Hermann, 48
Hervas, 22
Herzog, 164 f.
_hide_, 121
Hirt, 192, 203 f., 382 f.
historical point of view, 32, 42
homophones, 285 f.
_-hood_, suffix, 376
_hope_, 309
humanization of language, 327 f.
Humboldt, 55 ff.
hypercorrect forms, 294
I, the pronoun, 123 f.
_i_ denoting small, feminine, near, 402
idioms, 139
imitation, 291 ff.;
of sounds, 398, 413 f.
imperative, 403
incorporation, 58, 79, 425
Indian grammarians, 20;
cacuminals, 196;
cf. American Indian, Sanskrit
indirect ways of obtaining expressions, 438
indissoluble expressions of several ideas, 334, 422 ff., 428 ff.
Indo-European (Indo-Germanic), _see_ Aryan
indolence, _see_ ease-theory
inflexion, _see_ flexion
interjections, 414
interrogative sentences, 137;
particles, 358
invention of words, 151 ff.
irregularities in old languages, 338 f., 379, 425
isolating languages, 36, 76, 366 ff.
Japanese, 243
jaw-breakers, 280
jaw-measurements, 104
Jenisch, 29 ff.
Johannson, 341 ff.
Jones, William, 33
[ju·], 290 f.
Karlgren, 372 f.
Keltic languages, 38, 39, 53;
substratum, 192 ff.
Kuhn, 371
_kw_ becomes _p_, 168
languages, rise of new, 180 ff.
language-teaching, 145
lapses, 279
Latin, study of, 22 f.;
influence, 209, 215;
forms, 334, 338 f., 343;
word-order, 350
latitude of correctness, 282
law as applied to sound-changes, 297
leaps in phonetic development, 167;
in meanings, 175
Leibniz, 22
lengthening, emotional, 277, 403;
of words, 330
Lenz, 204
Lepsius, 370
Leskien, 93
life as applied to language, 7
lingua geral, 234
linguistics, position of, 64 f., 73, 86, 97
_little_, 407
little language, 103, 106, 144, 147
living languages, study of, 97
loan-words, sound-substitution, 207;
general theory, 208;
culture, 209;
classes, 211;
with symbolic sounds, 409
loss of sounds, 108, 168, 328 f.
love-songs, 433 f.
Luxemburg, bilinguism in, 148
_-ly_, suffix, 377
_m_ in adversative conjunctions, 314 ff.;
case-ending, 382
_ma_, _maar_, 314 f.
Madvig, 84, 433
_magis_, _mais_, 314 f.
makeshift languages, 232 ff.
_mamma_, 154 ff.
man and woman, 142, 237 ff.
Mauritius Creole, 226 ff.
meaning, delimitation of, 118 f.;
words of opposite meaning, 120;
words with several meanings, 121;
shifting of meaning, 174;
cf. semantic changes
meaningless gibberish, 149 f.;
singing, 436
Meillet, 55, 198 f.
memory, children’s, 143
_men_, 315
mental states, words for, 401
Meringer, 162 f., 280, 291
metanalysis, 173
metaphors, 431
metathesis, 108, 281
Meyer-Benfey, 256
_milk_, 158
Misteli, 79
misunderstandings, 282, 286 f., 319
mixed languages, 191 ff.
modern languages, study of, 68;
compared with ancient, 322 ff.
Möller, H., 139, 308, 382
_mon_, 358
monosyllabic languages, 36, 367 ff.
_month_, 318
moods, 380
_moon_, 318
_mother_, 155, 318
mother-tongue, 146
movement, words denoting, 399
mountains, linguistic changes in, 256 f.
mouth-filling words, 403
Müller, Friedrich, 79, 338
Müller, Max, 88 ff., 414
Murray, 269
mutation, 37, 46
mutilation of lips, 256;
of words, 266
_my_, 384 f.
_-n_ in _mine_, 384 f.
names of relations, 118;
proper, 439
nasalis sonans, 92, 317 f.
national psychology, 258
negation, 136;
redundant, 352
neo-grammarians, _see_ young-grammarians
new languages, 180 ff.
Noiré, 415
nominal forms, 337 ff.;
concord, 348 ff.
number in verbs, 335;
in pronouns, 347;
in nouns, 129, 349, 355, 385, 394 f.
numerals, 119;
borrowed, 211;
in succession, 281;
distinct for various classes, 430
nursery language, 179
_nut_, 311
_o_ original in Aryan, 52, 91
old languages compared with modern, 322 ff.
_on_, 287
_oncle_, 271 n.
onomatopœia, 150, 313, 398 ff.
opposite meaning, 120
order of words, _see_ word-order
organism, language as an, 7, 65
organs of speech, used for other purposes, 278;
development, 416, 436
_orient_, 175
origin of language, 26 ff., 61, 412 ff.;
of grammatical elements, 367 ff.
Osthoff, 93
_ox_, _oxen_, 385
palatal law, 90 f.
Panini, 20
_pap_, 158
_papa_, 154 ff.
parenthesizing, 350 f.
passive, Scandinavian, 50, 377;
Latin, 50, 381
_patter_, 407
Paul, 94 f., 162
periods of rapid change, 259
personal forms in verbs, 53, 335, 383
pet-names, 108, 169
philology, 64 f., 97
phonetic laws, _see_ sound changes, sound laws
Pidgin-English, 221 ff.
_pittance_, 408
Plato, 19, 396
playfulness, 148, 298 f., 432 ff.
_plumbum_, _plummet_, _plunge_, 313 f.
plural, _see_ number
poetry, 300, 431 f.
polysynthetic, 423, 425
pooh-pooh theory, 414
_pope_, 156
popular etymology, 122
portmanteau words, 313
possessive pronouns, 384 f.
prepositions, 137 f.;
borrowed, 211
prescriptive grammar, 24
preterit, weak, 51, 381
primitive languages, 417 ff.
progressive tendency, 319 ff.
pronouns, 123;
borrowed, 212;
possessive, 384;
French, 422
proper names, 436
prosiopesis, 273
Proto-Aryan, 80 f., 90 f.
punning phrases, 300
_pupil_, 157
_puppet_, 157
Pușcariu, 205
question, 137;
word-order and auxiliaries, 357 ff.
quick, 407
_r_ in Latin passive, 381;
sound of _r_ weakened, 244;
_r-_ and _n-_ stems, 339, 390
race and language, 75;
race-mixture, 201 ff.
rapidity of change, 259
Rapp, 68 ff.
Rask, 36 ff., 43, 46
rational, everything originally r., 316
reaction against change, 293
reconstruction, 80 ff., 317
reduplication, 109, 169
relationship between languages, 38, 53;
terms of, 117, 154 ff.
_right_, 180
_roll_, 374, 408
Romanic languages, 202, 205 f., 234 ff., 260;
future, 378
root-determinatives, 311
roots, 52, 367 ff., 373 ff.
Rousseau, 26
_s_ in passive, 50, 377, 381;
case-ending, 213, 381 ff.;
in English plural, 214;
in Russian and Spanish, 266;
Latin disappears, 362
Sandfeld, 215
Sanskrit, 33, 67;
vowels, 52, 90 f.;
consonants, 90 f., 196;
drama, 241 f.
savages, languages of, 417, 426 ff.
saving of effort, of space, of time, 264
Scandinavian influence on English, 212, 214;
passive, 50, 377;
article, 378
Scherer, 96
Schlegel, A. W., 36
Schlegel, F., 34 f.
Schleicher, 71 ff.
Schuchardt, 191, 213, 219, 267
scorn, words expressive of, 401
Scotch, 193 n.
screaming, 103
secondary echoism, 406
secret languages, 149 f.
secretion, 384 ff.
semantic changes, 174 f., 274 ff.
Semitic, 36, 52
sentences, 133;
the earliest, 439 ff.;
sentence stress, 272
separative linguistics, 67
_seqw-_, 306 f.
sex, 146, 237 ff.;
cf. gender
shifters, 123
shortening, 328 f.;
cf. stump-words
signification, how apprehended, 113 ff.;
cf. semantic changes
significative sounds preserved, 267 f., 271, 287
similarities cause confusion, 120 f.
simplification, 332 ff.
singing, 420, 432 ff.
slang, 247, 299 f.
small, words for, 402
smile, 278
_so_, 250
Société de Linguistique, 96, 412
_son_, E., 120, 286
songs, primitive, 420, 432 ff.
sound changes, _passim_;
_see_ especially 161 ff., 191 ff., 242 ff., 255 ff.
sound laws, 93;
in children, 106 f.;
extension and metamorphosis, 290;
destructive, 289;
spreading, 291;
in the science of etymology, 295 ff.
sound-shift, Gothonic, _see_ consonant-shift
special terms in primitive speech, 429 ff.
speed of utterance, 258
spelling pronunciations, 294
splitting, _see_ differentiation
Spoonerism, 280
stable and unstable sounds, 199 f.
Steinthal, 79, 87
strengthening of sounds, 404 f.
stress, Aryan, 93;
Gothonic, 195;
nature and influence of, 271 ff.
_stumm_, 311
stump-words, 108, 169 f.
substantive, _see_ nominal _and_ flexion
substratum theory, 191 ff.
subtraction, 173
suffixes, origin, 376 f.;
extension, 386 f.;
tainting, 388
suggestiveness, 408;
cf. symbolism
_suppletivwesen_, 426
Sweet, 97, 161, 264
syllables, number of, 330
symbolism, 396 ff.
syntax, 66, 95;
foreign influence, 214;
blends, 282;
simplification, 340
synthetic languages, 36, 334 ff., 421 f.
_ta_, 159
tabu, 239 ff., 431
tainting of suffixes, 388
_tata_, 158
_-teer_, suffix, 388
Telugu, 301
tempo, 258
Teutonic, _see_ Gothonic
_th_ becomes _f_, _v_, 167
_they_ for _he or she_, 347
_this_ and _that_, 403
Thomson, 90 n., 267, 427
threshold, under the, 138
_ti_, 358 f.
time, a child’s conception of, 120
tone, 111;
in Chinese, 369, 370;
in Danish dialect, 371;
in primitive languages, 419
Tooke, Horne, 49
translation-loans, 215
translators introduce foreign words, 210
_tripos_, 115
twins having separate language, 185 f.
_u_, French, 192 ff.;
English, 290 f.
umlaut, 37
understanding, a baby’s, 113 f.
units of language, 422
value, influence on phonetic development, 266 ff.
verb, substantive, 48;
flexional forms, 130;
simplification, 332 ff.;
concord, 335
verbal character of roots, 374 f.
Verner, 93;
Verner’s Law, 195, 197 f.
vocabulary, extent of, 124 ff.;
in primitive speech, 429
voicing of consonants, in Gothonic and English, 198;
symbolic, 405
vowel-harmony, 280
vowels, number of Aryan, 44, 52, 91
vulgar speech, 261, 299
wars, influence on language, 260
weak preterit, 51, 381
weakening of words, 266
Wessely, 197
Wheeler, 293
Whitney, 88, 323, 367
Windisch, 208
women as language teachers, 142;
women’s language, 237 ff.
word, what constitutes one, 125, 422 f.
word-division, 132, 173 f.
word-formation, 131;
cf. invention, suffixes
word-order, 344 ff., 355 ff.;
in Chinese, 369 ff.
worthless words or sounds, 266 ff.
Wundt, 98, 258
_yesterday_, 120
yo-he-ho theory, 415
_you_ for _I_, 124
young-grammarians, 93
Zulu, _see_ Bantu
_Printed in Great Britain by_
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED WOKING AND LONDON
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note
On p. 373, "ź" is used to represent a letter "z" with a vertical line
diacritic.
The following apparent errors have been corrected:
p. 9 "etc" changed to "etc."
p. 49 "will" changed to "_will_"
p. 63 "‘Sanskritic," changed to "‘Sanskritic,’"
p. 98 "Bréal Delbrück" changed to "Bréal, Delbrück"
p. 98 "Meillet Meringer" changed to "Meillet, Meringer"
p. 109 "VIII, § 9" changed to "VIII, § 8"
p. 173 (note) "‘Subtraktionsdannelser,”" changed to
"“Subtraktionsdannelser,”"
p. 184 "pronunication" changed to "pronunciation"
p. 216 (note) "25 1" changed to "251"
p. 216 "Mittleilungen" changed to "Mitteilungen"
p. 228 "chapter" changed to "chapter."
p. 234 (note) "ii" changed to "ii."
p. 237 "Grammar" changed to "Grammar."
p. 239 "accounted for" changed to "accounted for."
p. 247 "a women" changed to "a woman"
p. 254 "peoples" changed to "peoples."
p. 266 "a might" changed to "as might"
p. 274 "economzie" changed to "economize"
p. 280 "word·" changed to "word;"
p. 284 "(æ·]" changed to "[æ·]"
p. 290 "[see" changed to "(see"
p. 294 (note) "laughing" changed to "laughing."
p. 301 "_A Memorandum on Modern Telugu_" changed to "_A Memorandum on
Modern Telugu_,"
p. 309 "_Glossar_" changed to "_Glossar._"
p. 339 "Nolde, _Einleit. in die Altertumswiss_" changed to "Norden,
_Einleit. in die Altertumswiss._"
p. 353 "_isizwe_" changed to "_isi_zwe"
p. 355 "_amazwe_" changed to "_ama_zwe"
p. 358 "uo longer" changed to "no longer"
p. 358 "qnestion" changed to "question"
p. 358 "_oexn_" changed to "_oxen_"
p. 370 "is has" changed to "it has"
p. 375 "with may" changed to "which may"
p. 393 "respectively" changed to "respectively."
p. 394 "ablative" changed to "ablative."
p. 400 "hill;" changed to "hill;’"
p. 417 "forgotten than" changed to "forgotten that"
p. 441 "Ch. VIII § 9" changed to "Ch. VIII § 8"
p. 443 "_wost bist_" changed to "_wo-st bist_"
p. 447 "Puscariu" changed to "Pușcariu"
p. 447 "stump-words," changed to "stump-words"
Inconsistent or old spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have
otherwise been retained as printed.
The following possible errors have been left as printed:
p. 130 Il a pleuvy
p. 215 austellung
p. 292 abusee
p. 359 dison
p. 378 finire