A BOOK OF THE BEGINNINGS
EGYPTIAN ORIGINS IN WORDS
The comparative vocabulary in the second section furnished evidence of something or other not yet taken into account or even dreamed of by the comparative philologist. But if it had stood alone, unsupported by further evidence, one might have felt inclined to suppress it for fear of Grimm's Levites. They have so worried us into believing that verbal likeness is no sign whatever of relationship. They have so incessantly insisted that, when we find a word spelt the same in one language (Greek) as in another (Sanskrit), we may be certain that it cannot be the same word. Grimm's Law forbids. Which, from my point of view, is somewhat like saying that, if two men have a strong family likeness, and bear the same surname, they cannot be brothers. It is positively asserted that 'sound etymology has nothing to do with sound.' Philologists, says one Sanskritist, who bring in Chinese, New Zealand, and Finnish analogies to explain Indo-European words, are thoroughly unsound. They need to reform their science from the foundation. 'To compare words of different languages together because they agree in sound is to contravene all the principles of scientific philology: agreement of sound is the best possible proof of their want of connection.' Of course, no one would compare them if they did not retain the same signification. Even then they are valueless for those with whom language begins a very long way on this side of Babel, and who assume that there was no unity of origin on the other. Grimm's Law forbids that origin should ever be proved by likeness because it only shows difference. This has limited the comparative philologists to the narrowest possible area, and their verdicts are often as unsound as their generalisations are premature. It looks as if the discovery of Sanskrit were doomed to be a fatal find for the comparative philologists of our generation.
No foundation in ancient language is perhaps so late as Sanskrit, and dogmatism on a basis of Greek and Sanskrit is the most bankrupt [p.136] business in the world of words. We have to dig and descend mine under mine beneath the surface scratched with such complacent twitterings over their findings by those who have taken absolute possession of this field, and proceeded to fence it in for themselves and put up a warning against everybody else as trespassers. We get volume after volume on the 'science of language,' which only make us wonder when the 'science' is going to begin. At present it is an opera that is all overture. The comparative philologists have not gone deep enough, as yet, to see that there is a stage where likeness may afford guidance, because there was a common origin for the primordial stock of words. They assume that Grimm's Law goes all the way back. They cling to their limits as the old Greek sailors hugged the shore, and continually insist upon imposing these on all other voyagers, by telling terrible tales of the unknown dangers beyond.
As the palimpsest of language is held up to the light and looked at more closely, it is found to be full of elder forms beneath the later writing. Again and again has the most ancient speech conformed to the new grammar until this becomes the merest surface test; it supplies only the latest likeness. Our mountains and rivers still talk in the primeval mother tongue, whilst the language of men is remoulded by every passing wave of change. The language of mythology and typology is almost as permanent as the names of the hills and the streams.
'Care must be taken,' says Professor Sayce, 'to compare together only those myths which belong to the languages shown by comparative philology to be children of a common mother. Where language demonstrates identity of origin, there will be identity of myths; not otherwise.' But the identity of the myths and ideographic types is demonstrable, and can be demonstrated among various races of the world whose languages are supposed, by comparative philologists, to have no relationship whatever. This is their root relationship.
In proportion as we get back towards a beginning it becomes more and more apparent that comparative philology and comparative mythology have to make way, in a double sense, for comparative typology, as this only can show the stage of language in which unity is yet recoverable.
It is the especial province of the present writer to identify the myths and what he terms the types, for in his view there is a typology anterior to what is known as mythology, and if their identity shows an identity of origin for language, we are surely on the way to the abode of the common parent of all.
The chief evidence of this origin will have to be brought forward in two volumes of comparative typology now ready for the press, and intended to follow these. [p.137] The founders of philological science have worked without the most fundamental material of all, the Egyptian; this they neglected early and avoided late. From lack of the primaries to be found in that language, a vast number of their conclusions are necessarily false, and their theory of the Indo-European origin of languages and races is, in the present writer's opinion, the most spurious product of the century. This list of words at least will give no countenance to the theory; they point to Egypt, and not to India, as the place to look for the origins of the language that first came into the British Isles.
These words are neither Celtic, Cymric, Gaelic, nor Anglo-Saxon in the restricted sense; they belong chiefly to the provincial dialects among which we find the debris of the oldest language dissolved by the influence of time, and of which the Cymric, Gaelic, Manx, or others, are but localised after-drifts and developments.
If two words found in Sanskrit and Greek, when spelt the same, cannot be the same, what does comparative philology say to many hundred words being the same, generally spelt the same, and having the same meanings, being found in Egyptian and English? Of course with the difference that followed the evolution of sounds, as from t to d or k to c which may disguise but will not determine the origin of any word.
Now, supposing this old starting-point in Egypt be the true one, it is no longer necessary, for example, to derive himu (Sanskrit) from a root zbe, to invoke, when hama in Egyptian means to invoke with religious clamour, and seba is to pray? Numbers of such equivalents meet in Pahlavi and Sanskrit which are distinct words in Egyptian.
Again, it is assumed that the Zend anhu, life, is derived from asu (Sans.), life. This, however, is unnecessary: ash (Eg.) is life, the tree of life, and ankh is also life. Anhu derives from ankhu, and asu represents ash or as. Asu denotes life as breath, and as-asni (Eg.) means to breathe. Ash (Eg.), emanation, emission, applies to both principles of life, the water and the breath.
Why should a Sanskrit root da supply the Greek with the words δίδωμι, δαιτρός, and διδάσκω, as Max Muller asserts? He affirms that this da, to give, supplies the Latin do; Greek δίδωμι Slavonic da-mi; Lithuanian du-mi; and various others; it also means to cut, and furnishes the Greek δαιτρός,, a man who carves; and still another, da, identical with these two, means to teach and to know, preserved in διδάσκω. Now, if we turn to the word ta (Eg.), we find it means to give, and a gift, and that it is an abraded tat. Tat has every meaning of the Sanskrit da; tat is to give, to cut, the scribe, language, discourse, tell, the mountain, fire, and others; also the modification of tat into ta is marked by the accented vowel as in Sanskrit. Moreover, the hieroglyphic tat, the hand, is the pictograph of the tating or ta-ing, whether in giving, cutting, typing, or writing. In that we have the ideograph in which all the meanings meet. Professor Sayce affirms that, 'By tracing the Greek δημος the root δα, "to [p.138] divide,"' (the philologist) 'can show that private property in Attica originated in that allotment of land by the commune which still prevails among the Slavs.' But tem (Eg.) means to cut, divide, make separate, and relates to division of land; the tem was also a district, a village, a fort, a community, and a total, as in the English team. So the Greek temno signifies to cut, and δημος, for the people, represents the Egyptian temu, the people, created persons, mankind.
Again, Lenormant is of opinion that the Akkadian word it for the hand and the Semite די were not derived from each other, but had an independent origin in Assyrian and Akkadian. They had, according to the present hypothesis, a common origin in Egyptian, which supplied this type-word for all the chief groups of languages.
The hand or fist is found as khept and kep, and khept has a worn down form in it, to figure, paint, portray, with the hand of the artist for determinative. This it corresponds to the Hebrew די (yod), the Akkadian it, and the Assyrian idu. Now the yod stands for no. 10, that is, for two hands, and khept the fist, is the sign of the hand doubled ∩, therefore, of two hands. Thus khept or khepti is the dual form of kep, and khept wears down to yod for number 10. Kabti (Eg.) is two arms or hands.
The following list of words contains the name of the hand ranging from khept to it, and the same process of modification from the one to the other which took place in Egyptian may be seen in universal language under all the changes of phonetic law:
|khept, Egyptian.||hat, Acam.||it, Akkadian.|
|kepiten, Micmac.||hat, Ruinga.||it, Egyptian.|
|gavat, St. Matheo.||hato, Uriya.||t, Egyptian.|
|got, Vayu.||hat, Durahi.||gap, Akkadian.|
|kutt, Chepang.||hat-kela, Pakhya.||kaph, Hebrew.|
|kut, Kapwi.||hat-tho, Pali.||kep, Egyptian.|
|khut, Khoibu.||yod, Hebrew.||cab, Mexican.|
|ccuta, Mokobi.||jad, Syriac.||chopa, Movina.|
|khuit, Tshetsh.||jad, Arabic.||gaupen, English, a double handful.|
|kit, Tsheremis.||jayathin, Thaksya.||kopo (fingers), Lutuami.|
|ket, Ostiak.||jatheng, Garo.||chu, Tibetan, no. 10.|
|ket, Lap.||atth, Lughman.||tcapai, Pujuni.|
|kat, Assyrian.||atha, Kashmir.||nucapi, Isauna.|
|kat, Vogul.||ata, Singhalese.||nucabi, Barree.|
|ta-khat, Tengua.||aitila, Maldive.||wacavi, Toma.|
|ta-khet, Khari.||atheng, Borro.||erikiapi, Usenambeu.|
|aggait, Labrador.||otun, Chutia.||in-kabe, Guinau.|
|chetara, Bororo.||otoho, Gunnungtellu.||chaben, Koreng.|
|kutanga, (handful), Maori.||yutu, Tawgi.||cipan, Kusund.|
|secut, Adaihe.||ude, Upper Obi.||tshopre, Coroato.|
|hut, Maring.||uto, Tschulim.||isip, Vilela.|
|hath, Shina.||uda, Baika.||woipo, Mundrucu.|
|hatha, Bowri.||uda, Karyas.||yop, Mijhu.|
|hath, Gohuri.||uda, Yurak.||ipoha, S. Pedro.|
|hath, Siraiki.||ude, Samoyed.||ipap (hands), Walla-walla.|
|hath, Hindustani.||eutijle, Canichana.||epip, Cayus, also fingers.|
|hath, Gujerati.||eed, Tigre.||apka, Shasti.|
|hath, Kuswar.||eed-gekind, Amharic.||ipshus (hands), Sahaptin.|
|hath, Kooch.||ida, Gusto.||ubiju, Angami.|
|hath, Hindi.||id, Gindzhar.||afa, Enganho.|
|hat, Mahratta.||idu, Assyrian.|
Other modifications might be followed, as in the Kamkatka, sythi; Gafat, tsatan; Chinese, sheu; and Gyami syu. Kheft (Eg.), the doubled hand, permutes with khemt (Eg.), the number 10, and in the Philippine and other languages we find both gavat and camat for the hand:
|gavat,||St. Matheo||camay,||Tagala||tsemut, fingers, Upper Sacramento|
|gumut,||St. Miguel||camot,||Bissayan||shumi, Zulu, 10|
|cumot,||Umiray||camat,||Pampango||quipu, Peruvian, knot of 10|
The Welsh llyther and Latin litera have the same meaning, but the one was not derived from the other. They had a common origin, from which they were independently derived. The first lettering was done in stone; hence ret (Eg.), to engrave, cut in stone, denotes the earliest letter, the Akhamenian rilu for writing. Ret means to figure and retain the form first incised in stone or bone. Ru or er signifies the word, discourse, a chapter; ar is a type. Thus ret-er would be the word engraved, ret-ar the retained type. The rui (Eg.) is the reed-pen of the scribe, also the colour used for the hieroglyphics. Teru (Eg.) is a roll of papyrus, and the word means drawing in colours, or making hieroglyphics. Rui-teru is the equivalent of the Latin litera, a scroll, a writing, or a letter, and of the Welsh llyther. The engraved stone and hieroglyphic scroll were the letters. Hence we have leather for letter (in Leland), i.e. the rui-teru or scroll of the scribe, the written parchment or leather; the Egyptians also used leather as well as papyrus.
It is assumed that the words web, weave, woof, Greek ΰφος, are derived from a Sanskrit root vabh, to spin, whence unavabhi, the spider. And, of course, the v does pass into u, and vabh, vap, and web meet in one meaning. But vabh and web may be and indeed have been derived on two distinct lines. The English web implies an earlier keb. Kab (Eg.) yields the principle of weaving with a shuttle. Kab, to turn, double, turn corner, return, and redouble. The ka are the weavers, those who kab. It is not necessary for our w to come from v. But v implies ph, f, and b, and vab has an equivalent bab. Bae (Eg.) is to turn, go round, circulate, revolve, a collar. The bobbin is still used in babbin or weaving. There is also â â (Eg.), to knit, and these accented a's (the arm sign º) denote earlier f's. Thus to knit was fafa, or faba, as in fabric, worn down to ia. Uab, to spin, is an intermediate for both fab and bab. Now, if we drop both k and b, we have ab (Eg.), to weave. Ab is also to net and tie; abt is linen, the woven. Bab is ab with the article p (b or f) prefixed, whence vabh. And at the origin we have both ka, the weavers, and ab, the weavers, that is, on the principle of word-building enforced by Grimm's Levites. Any number, however, of words in Sanskrit, considered to be roots, are but the worn down forms of words. Further, ka becomes sa (with the signs of the tie and the crocodile's [p.140] tail), and we have the name of sewing and the sewers, following the weavers from the same root-origin. The Egyptian bab signifies going and being round. Bab is a hole, a whirlpool, a whirlwind, a circle, to circle, revolving circularly, anything going in a round. Beads are known as bubu. In English a bob is round; the plum-bob, the shilling, or the baubee, are round. The Scotch bab is the round, as a loop in a garter. The bib is tucked round. The bap is a round cake. Babbart is a name of the hare that doubles round. A bobbin is round, and in machinery it revolves. The bobbin, faggot, is a round bundle of sticks. Bebled is covered all round. To bubble is to bladder round. Boby, a cheese, is made round. Bob is the name of a ball. Bob is a round in ringing bells. To bob the hair is to twist it round. Bubbies (i.e., boobs) are round. The pip is a round spot or seed; the pebble, a round stone. The pipe, a round tube or a cask; the pope's eye, a round of fat in the leg of mutton.
This original meaning of bib is still applied to the Bible in the practice of divining with a key placed in it, the result depending on its turning or bib-bing round.* The Bible is the book of revealing. The first revelation was that of time and period, that is, of revolution, and beb is the name of both the revolution and revelation, also the Book of Revelation. The planets in Babylonian astronomy were the bibbu, as the revolving stars, the revealers of time. The seven bobuns are revolving spheres. Baba is a name of Typhon, whose starry image was the Great Bear, with the seven turners round. Midnight is considered a good time in bibliomancy, that is, at the turn of the night. Also—and this is very typhonian when we bear in mind that Ursa Major was the Thigh constellation—the proper thing is to bind a garter round the Bible, but it must be one that is by woman worn. For this typhonian thigh was the hinder thigh, that is, the feminine symbol, and in this image we may possibly see why it is the sacred usage for woman to garter above the knee whereas the male wears the garter below; the male is foremost, as in the hieroglyphics bah means the male, and in front, whilst the hinder thigh is feminine. The explanation of this is that both kabbing and babbing are derived from turning round and crossing, whereby the figure of a loop and a knot were made. One name for this figuring is kab, one is bab. The stars turning round and crossing over and under were, on one line, the first ab-ers, hab-ers, or kab-ers, and, on the other line, with the article prefixed, p-ab-ers, bab-ers, vabh-ers, uab-ers, wab-ers, weavers. The two origins passed separately into Sanskrit and English, and all that can be said is that the words are now equivalents. But, to speak of derivation implies knowledge of origin.
* 'Bib.' The word bible, Greek biblos, for the book, may be traced to the Egyptian papu, for papyrus. That meaning is not here in question.
Egyptian gives us a glimpse of language in an ideographic stage. For example, the child and the seed are synonymous. Su is the seed, the egg, the child. In an earlier form this is sif. Now the sieve is a sign of corn, by reason of sifting. Sif, the child, is also sw, to purge and purify, in the sense that Shiva, the generator, is designated the purifier. The name of the sieve is khi, and this, as shown by a form of the child, written with the khi (sieve !), must have been an earlier khif, whence the modified sif, the child and seed, which further abrades into su and si. We have the kwe, an osier basket, as a sort of water-sieve, for catching eels, answering perfectly to kif, for the sieve. The kif, for sieve, is also found in cyve (sieve). This retains the ideographic khif, worn down in the hieroglyphics to a phonetic khi, the child (sif) written with the sieve sign. The present point, however, is this. A word like khif is a primate which yields khi or sef, su and fi. It is anterior to gender. Sif, the child, may mean the boy or the girl, without distinction. But sif splits into su for the, her, it; and fu for he, him, his, it, when gender could be phonetically distinguished. As the sign of u denotes the earlier fu or khu, according to its line of descent, the Egyptian u is the deposit of a consonant as is our v. It occupies the place of the y, supplies its sound, as a participial terminal, and also means he or him. This may serve to show how it is that the letter y in English comes to represent f and z. In Scotch of the sixteenth century year is written zeir. Chaucer writes jolly as jolif, and guilty as guiltyf. Day is the earlier dag; ye, earlier ge; yes, earlier gese. Taking the g as equivalent to the kh (Eg.), we find the scattered kht, s, and f, which can be traced back to an ideographic khif, all meeting once more in the v, and the v we are taught is Greek, the f is Old French, and the g is Anglo-Saxon. The process of this dispersion of visible speech, so to say, into divers variants of language is more or less extant in Egyptian, and the whole matter has to be put together again before we know anything of origin.
Language must have emanated from the centre in the ideographic stage, and the primitive types are more or less extant to prove the unity of origin. For instance, there is an ancient Roman tradition of twelve vultures, or twelve ages, no clue to which has ever been found. This belongs to language in the ideographic stage. Mu (Eg.) means a year, cycle, or age. In Akkadian, mu is a year, and a memorial name. In Chinese, the mu are the eyes of the four quarters. The mu (Eg.) ideograph is the vulture, a symbol of sight, and sign of the year. Thus the keen-visioned mu of Egypt denotes the eyes of the four quarters in China, and mu is the year in Egypt, China, and Akkad; the vulture representing a year or age in Rome. Mu (Eg.) is also the mother, and the vulture was the type of the virgin motherhood of Neith, who [p.142] came from herself, a type belonging to a time before paternity was established. Origen defends the Immaculate Conception on the ground that the vulture, as stated by Horapollo, procreated without the male. The monuments show the mu with the male member, which emblem was necessary to express the earliest ideas, when both truths were given to her who was the virgin mother. This will show that religious doctrines, founded on a typology misinterpreted, may be in a perilous predicament.
Certain ideographs are compound types. The hippopotamus, for instance, is khebma, the earliest form of kam. The goddess Ta-urt or Khebt is compounded of the hippopotamus, crocodile, lioness, and kaf. The tail of the crocodile is an ideograph of kam, a syllabic ka, later sa. So that the goddess is both khab and kam, and midway between the two we have kvm (Heb.), for kam, kvm being a reduced form of khefma, further abraded in the final kam. This process deposits khef (kheb) and kam as two distinct words, but the ligature of their twinship is visible in kvm and in the after permutation of b and m, of kheb and kham, khebt and kamit for Egypt, neb and num, nebrod and nimrod.
There is an ideographic tes (the bolt sign s), that bifurcates and supplies a phonetic t and s. Hence the permutation of t and s in Hebrew and Chaldee.
Again the Basque type root for stone, and the stone-weapon, is aitz, with the variant aiz. In Egyptian, the typical stone as the seat or throne is found as the as, ast-b, asb, and hes. The Basque has retained the ideographic tes in aitz, and only the phonetic in aiz. This ideograph is represented by the phonetic in the Egyptian as or hes. Aitz (Basque) is a stone; the aitzurra is a pickaxe. In Egyptian this is extant in another form of the tes. This tes is a weapon, and to cut, determined by the stone and a knife, therefore it is a stone knife. By permutation of ta and at, tes is ats, the equivalent of the Basque aitz and the English adze, which in the hieroglyphic nuter is likewise of stone.
Words such as the English door, Greek θύρα, Maeso-Gothic daur, Lithuanic durris, German thure, Sanskrit dvar, New High Dutch tor, Latin fores, have never been traced to any root. Yet this will be found in the hieroglyphic ru, the door, gate, mouth, outlet. With the feminine article tu (the) prefixed (or earlier tef), the ru (door) becomes our door. The ru (rue) in French is the street. And in Egyptian the ru is also the path, way, road, and going-place. Teruaa is a doorway. In Chinese tau and lu joined together mean the road. Taru (Eg.) is to encircle, enclose, a cell, a college; this is the Dravidian toru, a fold, and tru, a vase; tro, Cornish, a circuit; Irish, tora, boundary, border; Hebrew, דוד, a circle. And the reason why the ru is a door, a circle, a passage, a street, a cell, a fold, or a boundary, is revealed in the hieroglyphics by its being [p.143] the mystical mouth, the rue des femmes, the ideograph of her or she. From ru with the feminine terminal t comes rut (Eg.) progeny, the race, the route, road, rota, and all the rest. Rut permutes with urt (Eg.), the chariot, in Latin the rota; the Great Mother as urt or rut being the chariot of the child, the bearer and bringer forth by the ru.
Roots like ru are visible at last in hieroglyphics in which the idea is figured to sight, and only in these can we see bottom or get to it; they are the final determinatives of language, and no comparative philologist has ever yet touched bottom anywhere, because the primitive types have never been taken into account. These offer particular means of identification where we are otherwise left all at sea in discussing language in general.
The word wharf has been hunted all Europe through in search of its origin. Philologists assure us that it can have no relationship to the word warp. But their science does not include a knowledge of the things which are the foundation of words, still visible to some extent in the hieroglyphic types. The wharf, to begin with, is not merely the modern landing-stage, but the bank or shore of a river. Shakespeare uses the word wharves for the banks. A wharf then is a bank, a boundary, a binding round or alongside of the water. It is the Egyptian arp, to bind round, engirdle, with the determinative of a skein of thread, a bundle, and of linen generally; that is of warp or arp. Arp as wharf is that which binds or bounds the ar (Eg.), river, and thus is identical with a ripe, Latin ripa, a bank. But arp and ripe have their earlier form in kherp (Eg.), a first shape, a model figure of binding and boundary. It is here that we reach rootage. The wharf or ripe, as bank, is a boundary, a primal form of binding in relation to water. The kerb, however, is equally the wharf of the street.
The warp is also a first form in weaving, the boundary for the woof. Arp, the bundle, to bind, is the same as our wrap, to wrap round, as do the kerh and the wharf. A far earlier wharf is the warp, the deposit of the river Trent after a flood; this is a first formation or kherp. Also soil between the sea-bank and the sea is called a warp; these preceded the artificial wharf. Kherp is the kar, a circle or bound, to put a bound to anything, encircle, go round, contain. Kh or k denotes the type, which type is finally the hieroglyphic ru, a waterway, a water enclosure, the edge, border, round about the water, a mark of division. Here we have a visible and typical 'root,' in the same ru, with many radiants.
At this stage we are midway in the genesis of words. Beyond the hieroglyphic ru lies the range of symbolism and the origin of sounds, and on this side the etymology of formation with the different [p.144] prefixes, suffixes, and affixes. This belongs to a domain that philology has not yet entered, and can only enter by means of things.
There has been as great quackery, on the part of 'scientific philology,' in the fortune-telling of words as in any kind that is punishable by statute law, because the original data have been left out of sight. On the assumption that the oyster is named from its shell, and a root identical with os for bone, we are told who ate the first oysters. The oyster has a common name throughout Europe; in the Welsh oestren, Latin ostrea, Greek όστρεον, Russian ustersh, Scandinavian ostra, Old French oistre, with which agrees the Armenian osdri. The Sanskrit pushtika will not correlate with the os-ter, and 'the only inference from this fact is that the Western Aryans became familiar with the Caspian Sea, and therefore with oysters, long before their Eastern brethren, who, not meeting with them till they reached the shores of the Indian Ocean, hit upon another name for them, derived from an entirely different root.'
There is, however, a possible origin for all, a root in which the meanings meet. Push (Eg.) means to divide into two halves, and therefore supplies a name for the bivalve. Teka (or tika) has the same significance as ter; it denotes boundary, frontier, margin, and as the word push is a form of fish, the push-teka is the fish of the margin or shore, the one that could be first caught, and named from the time when food was something ready to hand. Teka (Eg.) denotes that which adheres, is attached and fixed. Tekai is the adherer personified and push-tekai is the bivalvular adherer. That is what Egyptian says where Sanskrit is silent.
Push-tika was the fish that could not swim away. Push in Egyptian modifies into ush. Ush is to cut, to saw or divide in two. Both push and ush are applied to opening, dividing. The ush, os, or oys, then, is the modified form of the earlier push, and both push-tika and ushter read the Bivalve of the Shore. What then is the inference? That the pushtika was known on the shores of the Indian Ocean, and named before the migration from Africa to India took place, and that push was worn down to ush before the migration into Europe followed? That is the first look of the facts, and, in the Xhosa-Kaffir, imbaza, i.e., baza with the 'im' prefix, is the name for oysters; but these wide deductions from a single word are often critical indeed, especially where nothing is known of the origin. And this would not do, as we have our word fish, and fisse for the fist that is formed of the closed hand; our pesh or pease are also named like push-tika from their dividing in two. It is curious that ter and ret permute in Egyptian, and the Irish name for oyster is oisdridh. Ret (Eg.) also means the one made fast, or, both hard and fast. Thus ois-ret has the same name as the ruti race, and is literally the bivalvular ruti. The ruti species [p.145] first among fish as the Egyptians claim to be among the human species.
Teka in a hard form becomes the Hebrew type name for the fish, as dag (גד) and Egyptian will account for both on the ground that the oyster was the first fish caught because it could not escape. Also kha (Eg.) is the fish and te means to remain. Tekha would be the fish that remained fixed, attached to the shore. Tio, the Maori name for the oyster, probably a modified tiko, also means a landmark, and ice, a form of the water-fixed like pushtika, whilst ika is the fish, and t the article the.
Kadmus, again, is said to mean the East and can mean nothing else, and it has been argued that as Kadmus was the bringer of the Greek letters, and as his name signifies the East, the letters must have been brought from the East. But khetem or khetmu is the Egyptian name of the seal-ring, the type of lettering, and therefore of letters. Khet means to cut, to stamp, or seal, and the khetem ring is the type. Ketu was an Egyptian god of things or letters. Kadmus is the Greek form of khetmu, to seal or to letter, and the divinity was extant in Khetu. Kadmus is the Phoenician name of Taht as the inventor of letters or types. Khet implies an earlier khept, and khepui (Eg.) is a plural equivalent, meaning types.
And so it is with the names of mythical characters. Max Muller says: 'If the first man were called in Sanskrit Adima, and in Hebrew Adam, and if the two were really the same word, then Hebrew and Sanskrit could not be members of two different families of speech, or we should be driven to admit that Adam was borrowed by the Jews from the Hindus, for it is in Sanskrit only that Adima means the first, whereas in Hebrew it has no such meaning.' In this we have the two sides of an arch, impassable until the keystone is dropped in. Adima appears as the first man in India, as well as in Jewry, because both are independently derived from the common source in Egypt, where Atum is not only the first created, but selfcreated. 'I am Atum, Maker of the Heavens, Creator of Beings coming forth from the World, making all the generations of existences, Lord of life, supplying the Gods.' Also an (Eg.) means the king, the first, chief one. Adima has for consort an Eve in India, as in Genesis, because the original of both is the genetrix, the goddess of the Great Bear, and mother of flesh (af), as Aft in Egypt. We shall find two or three Eves in Africa.
As another illustration of comparative mythology, the Fijian divinity Kalou-Gata, when juxtaposed with the Egyptian Har-Makheru, will shed a light on his name and nature. Ma is truth and true; kheru is the word or voice. Plutarch tells us that when Isis felt herself to be with child (i.e., when she quickened), on the 6th [p.146] day of the month Paophi, about the time of the autumn equinox, nearly six months before the time of the vernal equinox, she hung an amulet or charm about her neck, which, when interpreted, signified a true voice. At that moment the one Horus was transformed into the other whose title is Makheru the True Voice. Now the Fijian Kalou is the god who is as good as his word, and fulfils what he promises. The first Horus was a dumb image of the word, the flesh-type in embryo, the promise of life to come. The second—after the quickening—was the True Word, the word of promise made true, or as the Fijians have it, the god who fulfils what he promises, and is the Justified.
But we must keep to our words.
According to Wedgwood, the word wake is the old Norse vaka, Gothic wakan, Anglo-Saxon wacian, German wachen, to wake, Old High German wachal, Anglo-Saxon wacol, Latin vigil, waking. From Old Norse waka, to wake, was formed vakta, to observe, watch, guard, tend. The corresponding forms are Old High German wahten, to watch or keep awake, to keep guard; German wache, watch, lookout, guard; wacht the guard; Dutch waecke, wachte, watching, guard, and English watch, North Frisian wachtgen, exspectare, and from Northern French descended English wait and wayte, a spy, explorer.
These are all derived from the root represented in Egyptian by uak, a festival, and ukha, to seek and search after. In the funeral wake and the statute fair of that name, we have the festival. In the Irish wake of the dead we find the seeking, searching, and calling after. The Christmas Waits (or waikts) are a form of the seekers for the winter sun, as in the Egyptian search after Osiris during seven days or nights, whose uaka, or festival, is kept by us at Christmas, as the end of our year.
The Egyptians held an annual wake or feast of the dead, called the Uak Festival, on the 18th and 19th of the month Taht, the first month of their year. And in Egyptian we find the primal kaka, to rejoice, eat, feast; kaka (Choiak), a festival; khakh, to follow, seek after, chase. Kak (Eg.) is darkness, and all watching turns on that.
The stars were the earliest watchers on this account. The sun that watched through the darkness, was named kak or hak. The modified akh is the name of the illustrious watchers, the stars, and the Akkadian moon-god. The earliest wake is the kak, as in the Assyrian kak-karrit, an anniversary. The first watching is keking, or keeking. Ka-akh (Eg.) denotes a calling for the light, or for the dead, manes, spirits. And in a magic papyrus at Berlin occurs this formula of ka-ing or kha-akh-ing, 'khaakh! khakhakh! kharkharakakha!' An invocation that probably preserves the language of calling used by [p.147] the oldest watchers in the world, who besought the akh by night and rejoiced at certain recurring periods, and held their kaka, and uttered what the costermongers still designate a 'kihike,' i.e., a kind of hurrah, a cry in praise of, to call attention to. The Hebrew akak-ak (חא חחא) means to cry out, ak, or ah, as a mode of invocation. Ka-ka (Akkadian) is to confirm the word by repetition of ka, to speak. The Akkadian amen (amanu), is 'kak-ama.'
The word yes, we are told, is Anglo-Saxon, the same as the German ja, and it conveys the historical information that the 'White masters of the American slaves who crossed the Atlantic after the time of Chaucer had crossed the Channel at an earlier period after leaving the continental fatherland of the Angles and Saxons.' But ia, the equivalent of yea, means yea, yes, Certainly in Egyptian, and may have been in the island thousands of years before an Angle, Jute, or Saxon came. It is questionable, too, whether yea is not distinct from Yes. Chaucer always distinguished between them, and in the original tongue ia, the sign of assent and assuring, can be paralleled by hes to obey, be obedient, which goes still farther as kes, to bow, bend down, be abject. Here are three degrees of ia, hes, and kes. Ia with a mere nod of assent, hes a bow of obedience, and kes to bend down abjectly and entreat. The English y like the j is not a primitive, and was preceded by the g or k. Yeste is gest, a history. Yes was the earlier gese. The yes is an earthworm, and this has its prototype in kek—later kes—(Eg.) a worm. Yiffe was give; yeste was gest in Anglo-Saxon. So that yes may have been ges or kes (Eg.) meaning to bend down, bow; in fact to enact our yes in gesture speech. This has the emphasis of Chaucer's yes. Kes (Eg.) means to lie down, and this we have as gise, to recline. Our yes is also ges or gisas an oath. 'By gis, and by St. Charity', and gis corresponds to khes (Eg.), a religious rite. Gis has a variant in gosh.
When the word cursey is found in Cornish English signifying a friendly chat in the house of a neighbour, it is forthwith assumed that cursey is the French causer. But kher (Eg.) is speech, to speak a word, and si, to pass, has the sense of en passant. Kher-si would be a passing word. Kau (or ka) (Eg.), to call, and say, is a distinct root, it exists in the Cornish cows, to say, speak, tell, and ser (Eg.) means privately. Perverted pronunciation is by no means such a factor in the development of language as it is assumed to have been.
There is no need for going to the Sanskrit sveta, white, for our English wheat, when we have it extant as wheat in the Egyptian uahit, corn, and hut, the white corn. Wheat, we are told, means the white corn. So it may, but not simply so. The Egyptian hut is white, also hut is the white corn or wheat. But white is not [p.148] the origin. Some of the most famous wheat in the world was the oldest red corn. We may get at the original signification in another way. Uahit is the Egyptian word for corn, extant as our English wheat. The terminal t is a suffix. Hu is corn, aliment, white, and uah, a name of corn. Uahit without the it (hit) signifies to cultivate and increase, it is likewise the name of the ploughman, the cultivator. So that uahit, or wheat, is named as the cultivated corn. Thus the name of wheat in Egyptian signals the nature of this corn in contradistinction to the cereals that grew wild and uncultivated, and the uah, to increase and augment, shows the joy of producing the hit (Welsh yd) by means of the Uah-Heb, the ploughman. The root of uat, water, green, green things, shows that uahit was also named in relation to the need of water in cultivating it. Green rather than white is the colour primally associated with wheat. And here one of many byways opens, which the present writer must not follow. The reader will perceive that the provincial pronunciation of the word wheat without the e, i.e., wahit, preserves the sound of uahit, and makes Egyptian still the spoken tongue.
One of the Irish names for wheat is cruith-neacht. In Egyptian, arable land and a field sown with corn is nakht; kar is food, kharu is bread, therefore cruith-neacht in Egyptian denotes the bread-food of the ploughed land, and this is the Irish name for wheat. Here again the name, like that of wheat, tells us that it was the cultivated corn, therefore the corn first cultivated. The ancient Scotch were called cruitnich, rendered corn-men. This in Egyptian, uahit-nakh, is the corn cultivators, which agrees with the tradition of the Welsh that the god Hu, whose name signifies corn, taught the first settlers in these islands the art of growing wheat, previous to their emigration from the land of hay, that is, in Cornish, the land of corn. A kind of corn highly thought of and much grown in Sussex is called chidham white; this in Egyptian, khetam-hut, reads the golden corn. The English bere for barley and beard, an ear of corn, are the Egyptian par and pert for grain. Pliny says the oldest name for corn in all Latium was far. This is a form of the word par. The Maori puru for seed, paroa, flour and bread, and the Irish por, seed, for race, are from the same root. Par was the name of the seed-time in Egypt. Another type-name for grain is supplied by ab, corn, earlier ka-ab, food-corn, whence the Zend and Sanskrit yava, Lithuanian javai, and English Gipsy giv, for wheat. Zea, also the oldest known Greek name of barley, derives from the Egyptian sif (su), corn, bread, seed, the boy as seed; earlier khefi, harvest.
Creeing is a word used for steeping grain, whether rice for a pudding or wheat for making furmety, by putting it into an oven to become soft. Creed and creeded describe the process of ovening without baking. In Egyptian kra is the name of the oven or furnace, and the form of the word for the thing creed when done [p.149] would be krat. It must have been used for making or distilling, as the karau is the jar, a vessel from which steam is issuing. And this gives us the Welsh word for strong ale, whilst kra, the furnace, with the Egyptian terminal t, yields the word grate.
Bopp works a long way round to derive the word berry from the Sanskrit bhaksjam (bhag-s-ja-m); it is the Egyptian perrie or peri, food appearing, with a branch sign of bearing; peru, to put forth, manifest. Berry (Eng.) is a flood, and in Egyptian peru is to pour forth, flow out. Per (Eg.) also is grain, corn, perri is a granary. In English to berry is to thrash corn, and the thrasher is a berrier, which, according to Egyptian, is the person who makes food appear.
Pef (Eg.) is breath; paw a gust or puff of wind. In English puff is a name of the breath. To puff is to blow with the breath, to pant; to peff is to cough faintly. Pefs (Eg.) signifies to cook, bake light or lightly. Pobi (Welsh) means to bake. English puffs are light tarts. From pef, light food, we derive the word beaver, a very light intermediate meal. Another name for beaver is bait. Baat in Egyptian is food, a kind of loaf called boths; baat is especially food distinguished from flesh, and this is the character of our bait or beaver, which is a meal without meat.
In Egyptian uskh and sekh are variants of one word. Sekh is a liquid, the same as suck and sack in English. Uskh gives us our river-names of esk and the Irish uisge and suck (river), the isca and whiskey. Uisge combined with bakh (Eg.) for beverage, forms the word usquebagh. Sheku (Eg.) is an intoxicating drink, and Sekht is the goddess of drinking and of fire. Uskh passes into ox, as in Oxford, the waterford. But Egyptian shows that Oxford may mean much more than this. The uskh is also the hall, the temple, with the leash of feathers for determinative, and Oxford as the place of the Halls of Learning is the uskh-ford in the hieroglyphic sense. The hall, the abode, is determined also by the quadrangular sign. This likewise appears in the buildings and the four-cornered cap of Uskh-ford.
Again uskh (Eg.) means broad, wide, to range, stretch out, extend, and there is an old English cry used in hunting, asvgge, asygge, in the sense of making a broad and extended cast round about.
'Ye shall say "illeosque, illeosque," alway when they fynde wele of hym, and then ye shul keste out assygge al abowte the feld for to se where he be go out of the pasture, or ellis to his foorme.' This assygge, never yet explained, is the Egyptian uskh, to stretch out, to extend, range out, and around. The instructions are to cast out broadly and ring round on a large scale to ensure the run. A collar is one type of the uskh.
In Egyptian sekti is a bark; one name of the bark on which [p.150] the sun made its upward passage from the lower signs. The divine bark of the gods was the sekti or sekt when contracted. Skt may be read skat, and the skate survives with us as a small boat or wherry. The wherry, by the by, is the Egyptian urri, a form of carriage. The wherry carried passengers. The saktu or mariners were the rowers of the boat, and in English to skut is to stoop or crouch down, as the rowers do in pulling. Skat is Egyptian, for towing and conducting a boat. Ska is to cut, scrape, play upon. Ska is the plough that cuts the earth. Skat is to tow or conduct a boat on the water. Our form of skat in scraping, cutting, ploughing is applied to skating on the ice; like the original skat it is still conducting on or over the water, whilst the skate now represents the skt, or divine bark of the gods.
Khen (Eg.) means to go by water, to navigate, impel, convey. The sailors are the khent, a means of navigating as rowers. But khen is also to impel, to blow, as a means of sailing, and in this case the impeller, the khent, is the wind. The word khent becomes the English wind. To winde is to go, to bring, and the wind was the means of going and bringing by water, by which the boat went, and therefore was the wind or khent, the impeller, the conveyer, the sailor or cause of sailing and conveying. It was not named merely for its going, but as the means of going by water, and the antithesis to water which was at first the natural opposite of going. Answering to khen (without the terminal), to blow, puff, impel, blow away, avert, we have the form wine (the wind) used in Somerset, and winny, to dry up. Khena (Eg.) also is to refuse, and winna (Scotch) signifies will not. Khena is to be agitated, fearful, and winny means to be frightened. Khena is to blow away, puff away, inspire, avert. This process we call winnowing. Khena is also to attain, alight, rest, and winna (Eng.) is to attain, reach, gain, win. These prove the equivalence of win and khen, wind and khent.
The root of anima, wind, breath, air, soul, has to be traced back to khn (Eg.), to blow, puff, breathe, whence wind, in the form an. The spirit, or anima, founded on breath, is not so much the breath as the breathing, the repetition of breath. The root an (Eg.) is neither blowing nor breathing, but means to repeat, renew. It was the repetition and not the vapour on which the observers founded the being. An is being and repeating in one. So with the word spirit. This is not derived from the breath, but from the breathing. Sep or sn (Eg.) is a time or turn, manifestation, spontaneous act. Ret (Eg.) means repeated. Spi-ret is the spontaneous manifestation repeated in breathing. This is shown by the spirt, for a short space of time or a brief emission.
The mum (mummy) was the very self preserved, the self-sameness kept in death. The Egyptian mumu means also, or likewise. It is extant in the French meme, for self, which signifies likewise [p.151] and also. The mum type of the self-likeness yields the Zend mam for me; Lap, mon; Vakut, mm; Mordvinian, mon; Akkadian, mu; Finnish, ma; Esthonian, ma; Proto-Median, mi; Zyrianian, me; Etruscan, me; Ostiac, ma; Welsh and Irish, mi; English, me; and Latin, memet, for me, myself. Mum in English means be silent, hold your tongue; mem, in Quiche, to be mute; imamu, Mpongwe, to be dumb; mamu, Tahitian, to keep silence, and mumu in the Vei language, because mum in Egyptian means death, dead, silent, of which the mummy is the ideograph. Memn (Eg.) is a memorial, and the mum was the memorial figure of the dead, by which they were kept in mind and memory and re-mem-bered. Mum was the visible, not an abstract form of memory, and our mumming was a similar mode of representation. Thus memory, from mem, the mummy image of the dead, and rekh (Eg.), to know, or the intelligence, was named as the faculty of keeping the dead in mind, and being able to reproduce their likeness, or figuratively make the mummy. To keep the mummy (mum) constituted the first memory. The later phase is to call up an image mentally. The mum type was continued in the momene, an idol, and the mammet, a puppet, idol, the dolly, the mammy, a Swiss doll; and in the image of memory.
The internal organs of the body, the type of which was the heart, all that we call the viscera, the inner support and mainstay of life, were designated the besk by the Egyptians, with the heart for determinative, denoting inward substance, the seat of life. With us the besk survives as the busk, a piece of whalebone or steel, worn inside of stays to give support and keep them straight. To busk a lace is to put a stiff tag on the end called the busk point. The busk in the stays still images the besk of the body.
In Egyptian hemp is named huma, and flax is humamaui, i.e., hemp made bright or beautiful. In India the huma for hemp becomes uma for flax, and the Latin linum, for flax, adds the lin of linen to the um, uma, huma, of flax and hemp. Renn (lin) in Egyptian signifies the unblemished, the pure, the virgin. If applied to blanching, this would be the bleached. Renn-huma would be the bleached or whitened hemp. The full word is renen, the virgin, pure, unblemished, hence the white. N often interchanges with m, but the Greek λίνον, the Welsh llin, Irish lin, old Norse lin, German lein, and English linen, only repeat the renn or renen as the bleached, the virgin-white.
Flax is the prepared hemp. This we may derive from rekh, to full, purify, make white. P-rekh (Eg.) or f-lekh is the thing whitened, purified, blanched, whence flax. Whilst the word bleached is the rekht (p-rekut), the fulled and whitened.
In Old English cloth is tuck, the tucker was the weaver. Tucker Street, Bristol, was an abode of the weavers. Tucking mills are extant in Cornish village names. The name has been derived from [p.152] that of the river Toucques in Normandy. But it goes back to the origin of weaving as crossing. Tuna (Eg.) means crossing, to cross, twist, unite, attach, as in weaving. The crossing is still visibly preserved in the texture of duck, and the pattern of ticking. Duck was the especial wear of sailors, the crossers of the waters, a form of the ducks.
The hearse, we are assured, simply means a harrow, because in French the harrows used in Roman Catholic churches for holding candles are called herses. Our hearse is the Egyptian hues, a wooden head-rest, the Assyrian irsa, a bed or couch. This might be for the living or the dead, and it is supplemented by the word hersa, signifying on it, and after. The hearse has both meanings. Hearses were set up in churches after death. Hearse is also an English name for a hind in its second year, the year after the term of its being a hind calf. The custom of following after the hearse likewise illustrates this meaning. The same thing as the Egyptian hues, a headrest, has been found in the crescent-shaped objects discovered in the lake-dwellings conjectured to be headrests.
In English one form of ream is to hold out the arm to receive. In the hieroglyphics the remn is an arm, to touch an arm, shoulder; a hieroglyphic action with the arm. Rem also means to rise up, surge up, weep. In English rem is to cry, moan, froth up, stretch forth. Rem is cream, and to cream. This motion of surging up and going forth is the act of yearning and grieving expressed by the word erme, used by Chaucer in the Pardoner's Prologue.
'I cannot speak in terme,
But well I wot thou dost my herte to erme.'
Erme, to grieve, to lament, is one in English with rem, to moan, cry, weep. And the Egyptian rem, to weep, also reads erm, according to the placing of the vowels. Further, one hieroglyphic sign of erm or remn is the arm; that is arm in English. To stretch out the arm, to take, to desire to take, being a form of erm-ing or ream-ing. Hence to stretch out the hand to take is synonymous with grieving or weeping with desire, that is yearning. To ream in English is also applied to stretching the legs. It is supposed that to ern or yearn is a corruption of erm. But the more we see of the Egyptian origins, the more we shall doubt the breeding capacity of corruption as a generator of language. It is true that ern or run has the same value as erm or ream.
Running is the contrary to standing still, whence the identity of flowing and running. To run is equivalent to ream-ing in stretching the legs. Rem, to weep, is the same as ern, to run or render, to melt down. Erm and ream, ern and run, all meet in [p.153] this sense of flowing, and in that of a motion toward, as in yearning, rising up, stretching forth. Renn in Egyptian signifies to dandle, a nurseling, and may denote the mother yearning over her child; such is the image. In the hieroglyphics the signs for m and n have at times the same value, ma and na both read of, from, to, by. Nu and mu both denote water. The word remn deposits a rem and a ren, our erm and run, hence the interchange of the one with the other.
Urm (Eg.) is a name of the inundation, the overflow. In English urne is to run. The urn is a synonym of run or to urne. The prototype of our tea-urn is an Egyptian vase with a spout, the kabh sign of refreshment and libation. Three of these joined together constituted the symbol of the inundation or urn, that is, with permutation of m and n, an urn. It may have a bearing on the subject that an urn measure contains twenty-eight pints. The urm or inundation, says Plutarch, at its highest rise (at Elephantine) is twenty-eight cubits, which is the number of its several lights. The Egyptians, he observes, consider the risings of the Nile to bear a certain proportion to the variations of light in the moon. The number twenty-eight is also a mystical measure of time.
The rem is one thirty-second of a measure of land; one rem is a span. The quantity may also be varied, as the word remn means the extent, extending to, up to, thus far. The Irish rom or rome, from whence the rome-feoh was a certain extent of land. In a report on the state of Ireland made to Henry VIII we read, 'First of all, to make his Grace understand that there be more than sixty countries, called Regions in Ireland, inhabited with the King's Irish enemies; some regions as big as a shire, some more some less unto a little; some as big as half a shire, and some a little less; where reigneth more than sixty Chief Captains, whereof some calleth themselves Kings, some King's Peers in their language, some Princes, some Dukes, some Archdukes, that liveth only by the sword, and obeyeth to no other temporal person, but only to himself that is strong: and every of the said Captains maketh war and peace for himself, and holdeth by sword, and hath imperial jurisdiction within his rome.' This is the rom or erm of Egypt, the measure of land extending to, as far as, the border or limit determined, that is, the rim, margin, the space or room.
The hieroglyphic renn for cattle is a noose or cord for the foot of the animal, to determine its run or remn when grazing. From this lowly origin it rose to become the ring-enclosure of the royal names.
The English rim for margin, edge, circuit, answers to remn (Eg.), extending to, so far as, up to. With the (Eg.) article prefixed, we get brim, as the rim. And here the rim (Eg.), to rise and surge up, as another correlate. The rem or brim, as sea-margin, is not only the edge, but the sea, the flood, the surging-up itself. Another brim or barm is the uterus, the bosom; barm also being a name of yeast.
Rem (Eg.) the extent, boundary, at the place of, may be written erm, or elm, the name of the elm-tree in English, and thinking of our universal hedgerow. Elms it seems likely that the Elm is named as the tree of the boundary, the extent, at the place of, the edge or hedge, the hedgerow elm. This tree of the terminus is also a sacred tree, used for the coffin, at the end of life. The elm or ailm of the Bethluisnion Tree-Alphabet is A, which answers to the Runic A or arm. In this case the boundary is at the beginning. In Devon, the elm is called elemen, and in the Gaelic leamhan or leoman we have the equivalent of the Egyptian remen. This remen, the type of boundary and extent, takes another form in the Gaelic ruimne, a marsh land, as in Romney Marsh and Ramsey in the Fens. Marshes were limits. And still another in the port of Lymne, from which an ancient road runs across the Kentish hills to Canterbury called the Stone Street. Ermin Street, which joined London and Lincoln, is also a form of remen (Eg.), extending to, and has no relation to paupers. It is one of the four great roads ascribed to the Romans. The names, however, will show that the Romans did but follow and reface the track of our far earlier road-makers and boundary-namers. In Lambourne, Berks, the bourne repeats the rem as the limit and extent, and the remn (Eg.) with the article the (p) prefixed passes into perimeter for the circuit, the orbicular extent. The rim, Akkadian, is a mound. This rem (Eg.) at the place; remn, the extent, enters into Sanskrit as ram, to stop, stay, remain; the Gothic rim-is, Lithuanian ramas and rem-ti; Latin remaneo, to stay, continue (also remano, to turn, flow back) and our English word remain, which is an equivalent of remn (Eg.) at the place, and remnant, for an end.
Uah, uas and uam are interchangeable words in Irish for the top and summit, the supreme height. In the hieroglyphics uah is the crown, the word also means very much. The uas is a sceptre, the sign of supremacy, and the uam-ti is a rampart, a raised wall or height. Whilst the root ua signifies the one, the one alone, solitary, isolated, equivalent to the top and summit.
In the North of England the word leet is used in the sense of a meeting of crossroads. In Essex the fuller form is re-leet. A two-releet is the meeting of two roads; a four-releet a meeting place of four roads. Our words road and leet both derive from the Egyptian ru, a road and pathway; the French rue, a street, with the terminal t suffixed gives rut, our route and road. The point in releet is the meeting of the roads. This we get from ru, road, division, and ret, several, repeated, bound up together. We have the leet as a meeting answering to ret, repeated, several, and with ru or ret for the road, and a division, we get ru-ret or re-leet the meeting of roads. The same word as ru-ret (re-leet) is extant in the hieroglyphics, as ret-ru, with the meaning [p.155] of entire, answering to the totality of the rut or road in re-leet. There is an old word sart, applied to a piece of woodland, newly stubbed up and turned into arable land, which the Egyptian sart perfectly explains. Sart means to sow seed and also to cut down, prepare, to dig, plant, sow, grow, renew, and augment. A form of the word exists in the Latin sartura, mending and weeding, but the English keeps all the senses of the Egyptian. Assart, rents, was the term employed for the payment made by those who recovered such lands, and sereth was the earlier name of the territory of the Barony of Tir-hugh called Tir-Aedha, in Donegal, in the sixth century.
To grub or graff land is to break up the surface for the first time. And in Ireland the peasantry use a sort of double axe for rooting in graffing the land, called a grafan. This supplies a type-name for lands such as graffa, graffee, graffy, graffage, meaning the grubbed land. Graff is the Egyptian kherp, the first cultivated land. A form of it is extant in the glebe land, sacred to the Church, the name of which points to a primordial form of tenure and cultivation. Kherf also signifies an offering of first-fruits, a supply, a crop, sufficiency; to pay homage, consecrate, which meanings apply to the glebe land.
The Celt-Stones are the kart stones by permutation, and these are the stones cut by the mason who is the kart. Kar-nater is one name of the mason. Nater means to cut, plane, work, make smooth. Kar is the stone, and t the participial, so that the kart is the cut and smoothed or polished stone. One form of the kar stone is the teste, kar-ui, and karti, the two kais are the testes, the kart is the cut stone, and in English this cutting of the stone is to geld. Our Celt stones then are named in Egyptian as the kart stones, cut and polished by the karti or kar-nater, and the Keltae bear the same name as these cutters of the Celt stones who in Egypt are the karti, the masons, the stone-cutters and engravers on stone, the stone-polishers, in many lands; the men of the Neolithic Age and Art. Every way we take leads to Egypt, every word we hunt down runs to earth at last in the land of the rut and the karti, or the kafruti, who were the rut of the primordial race.
The term wuin is applied by miners to certain hard rocks. Whin sill is a sheet of basalt, spread out between the carboniferous limestone strata. Our whin is the Egyptian han; and hanna is a quarry, to yield tribute. The hanser (whin-sill) is the rock that pays for quarrying. Our whinstone is a basalt used for whet-stones. This is the an stone, also used by the Egyptians for whet-stones, the an that gave the name to their typical column. Ba-salt again is ba-sert (Eg.), graving-stone.
Threpe is used for arguing, disputing, maintaining, saying, and has a meaning of urging, insistence in saying. The Egyptian deity Taht is the scribe of the gods, lord of the divine words. He is called Sa, the clever, skilful. His name Taht denotes the word, mouth, tongue, speech, and his rites are called terp. A rite is a formal act, in this case of the utterer, Taht. Terp may be dissected, as p is the article. The word ter means interrogative, question, who? what? This includes discussing, arguing, and maintaining, that is threpe or terp, the rites of Taht, the tongue or speech.
Burns speaks of 'some devilish cantrip sleight.' Cantrip-time is the season for secret magical wizardly practices. The Gaelic cantrip is a charm, spell, incantation, evocation of spirits. Terp (trp) signifies certain rites of Taht, the revealer or interpreter of the gods, and charmer of spirits. Khan has the meaning of inward, interior, hidden, and is related to the dead. Khenf is the food offered to the dead. Khen is a time. Ken-terp would be the time for certain rites of revelation, known as cantrip-time.
The word day is synonymous with the Egyptian tual, time, morning, the morrow, as we say, the morrow-day. Tual also denotes two halves, and the day is one of these, the light half; the lower hemisphere is the tuat as the other half. But day has an earlier form in dag. Tek (Eg.) is crossing over, and takh a frontier, whence a crossing over from one side to the other is a dag. This sense of day as boundary, so much cut off, gives a name to the instrument for cutting off; as the dag, an axe, and the dagger. To dag or dock is to cut off. A dagon is a slice cut off. And to daker is to work for hire after the day or dag is over, the boundary crossed. Duckish is twilight. Takh, a frontier or cut limit, becomes deke, a ditch. It is said of a man whose life is cut off, 'it's all dicky with him.' The dig or duck is the crosser over the water. A dog-lope is a boundary between houses that belongs to both. Dag is boundary; takh (Eg.) is frontier, and rupu (lope) means either. When the dog turns round before lying down, he is said to be making his doke, his boundary. Time was cut or ticked off by Tekhi, goddess of the months. Tekh is a name of Taht, the moon-god in his secondary character. This was represented by the dog-headed ape. Tag in English is one who assists another at work, in a secondary character, as the dog the shepherd; in the same way to dog is to follow after. Here our dog of the man in the moon, Taht, is tag or tekh by name, as the secondary and following character. Tekh (Eg.) is to fix, attach; the dag was formerly the fixed day, and the dog is the animal attached to man.
Teach, we are told, comes from the Anglo-Saxon taccan, to show. Taccan is a developed form of tac or teach, no matter where it may be found. Dich (San.), to show, and the English teach are anterior to taccan, and the Greek δείκνυμι. Tekh is Egyptian, the name of [p.157] Taht, who was the teacher, the illuminator, revealer, shower, personified. Nor does taccan, to show, go to the root meaning. We only get to that when and where the various meanings meets as in teka, to illumine; teka, to see, behold, fix, attach; and tekh, the divine teacher. The first teaching or tekhing was by reckoning the transits of days, moons, months, stars, as they crossed over, and ticking them off on the digits by tens in the reckonings of time. Hence Tekhi was goddess of the months, and Tekh, the lunar god, the teacher, as reckoner, calculator, measurer, the ticker-off of periodic time.
The name of the duck answers to the Egyptian tekh. Tekh or tekai is the otis tetrax, also the ibis, and is not known as the name of a duck. But it is known that the wild duck covers up her eggs with moss or grass every time she leaves them, and this is a form of ducking or tekh-ing. Tekh (Eg.) is to hide, to escape notice of, to duck. Either would supply the name, and both senses meet in the one word tekh, our duck. The Assyrian tukhu means the descending, or more literally, the ducking bird. This is the same word with the same meaning as duck, although applied to the dove, doubtless from its motion.
Urt is the Egyptian word for bird, and the b as representative of the article forms the word burd. Urt the old first genetrix is the brooder or breeder, our bird being named as the typical urt, the brooder on the nest. The urt crown, composed of the two serpents, was representative of both truths, of puberty and maternity, showing that the wearer was the bearer or breeder, an image of Ta-urt, or with the other article, b-urt, the bird; Scottish burd, as in Burd Ellen, who was also the brooder.
The word date, the name of the palm-fruit, still preserves the name of Taht, and of his reckonings or dates made upon the palm-branch of the panegyrics. Ta is to write and register; Tat was the registrar of dates, and his account was kept on a branch of the palm that bore the dates as its first fruits, the numbers (dates) as its last.
The origin of the word tree may be traced thus; rep (Eg.) means to grow, bud, blossom, shoot, take leaf. Rep and leaf are equivalents. With the article the, we have trep, the budding, leafing, flowering, growing. This modifies into teru (Eg.) with the meaning of roots and stems, by aid of which we get pretty near the tree. The u passes into e, and we have the word tree. The family or house-tree is the tref, the trev, torp, and dorp, and the word contains the roof—t-roof—hence the roof-tree as the tree.
The rep, ref, or erp, Greek erpe, is an Egyptian temple, the sacred house, roof, or, with the prefix tref, as in our trevs and tres, which will be separately described.
But the meeting-point of tree and three may be here noted in [p.158] relation to the erp, arp, or repa, who is the branch, or tree, and the representative of the three—as the manifestor of the father and mother—he being the three in one, which is also typified by the leash of feathers.
The name of tahn is found applied to such various things in the hieroglyphics as to be very perplexing. It is certainly applied to tin and other metals. It is found in the form of crystal, hyaline, rosin, and probably glass. Our English words tin and thin will give us the determinating idea that correlates the whole of the substances named. Tin and thin are one word. Tin is that which can be beaten out thin. An old form used by Chaucer, teyne, is a thin plate of metal or tin; Latin, taenia, Greek, tainia. In Egyptian tun signifies to extend, spread, or lengthen out; tan (Zend) is the extent; and those substances which would do that or become thin are the tahn of Egypt. Glass is tahn, or thin enough to let light through. This principle of thinning by spreading out and ten, to the fullest extent, explains how thinder and yonder meet in one word that includes tinder, as that which is spread or thinned out. It likewise illustrates how thunder and tinder meet in the same word, with the same sense of spreading to the farthest extent and uttermost limit, the one audibly, the other visibly. Tanning by beating is a process of thinning. In numbers ten is the extent of that division, as ten (Eg.) is the total amount.
It is said that the name of the Kit-Cat Club was derived from Christopher Kat, who supplied the members with mutton pies. But kit-cat is the name of an ancient game played by boys. Kit or kitty is little, small, as in kitty-wren; also a quantity. Kit-cat, a small quantity, is the Egyptian kit-kat, a small number, a few. This makes the name of the Kit-Cat Club signify a select few, whether or not it was known to the members. And this, it would seem, is the likelier origin of the Kit-Kat portrait, a three-quarter length, or the little picture.
The Druidic komot, court or division, and later witanagemot is Egyptian by name. The komot was the department in which a Druid was empowered to teach according to the grant and privilege of the lord of the territory. One form of the Egyptian khemut was a shrine, place, enclosure. Uita (Eg.) means to examine, specify, decide; uitau, speak out, give out, voice. The wita-gemot is thus the court or parliament invested with power to debate, examine, verify, and decide.
The Brehon Laws are probably named from hun (Eg.), command, rule, to rule, flog, restrain, make to turn back, order; hun, sanctity, majesty, royalty, divinity; and pre, to show, manifest, explain. Pre-hon is to show, make manifest, explain the sacredness of rule and government, as set forth in the laws. Bre also answers [p.159] to the bar (Eg. par), barra (Gael.), the high place, barra (Gael.), a court of justice, the bar of justice, where the manifestation of the hun took place and the culprit was hung.
Autum is a slang term for an execution by hanging, supposed to be connected with autumn by means of the drop or fall of the leaf. In Egyptian ath is to drag, to draw, and aam is a noose. Ath-aam is to draw a noose, and hanging is a process of execution by means of drawing the noose. The slang autum is a derivative from Egyptian. Atam (Eg.) also means to enclose and exterminate, as hanging does. This is related to Atum, the great judge, the avenger. Tema is a title of the justiciar, who executes justice. Au to chastise, punish, tem, a criminal, offers another form of autum applied to the punishment of a criminal by drawing a noose.
In the Babee's Book, an old tract for teaching children courtesy, entitled the 'Lytylle Children's Lytel Boke,' it is said of it, 'This boke is called Edyllys Be.' 'Edyllys Be' has baffled all investigators. Nor can it be read straight off by aid of Egyptian. The root, it, is Egyptian for to paint, to figure forth. This passes into the words idea, idyl, idol, and eidolon. An idea is a mental image, an idol a figure shaped, an idyl a picture painted. Edyl then might mean the portrait or portrayal. Lys or loos is Anglo-Norman for honour. Be, as we know, is an abraded beigh, a ring, an ornament, a sign of distinction, a jewel. In the hieroglyphics peh and pekh are synonymous like our be and beigh. Peh is glory, glorious, glorified. This is our be, a jewel, as the ornament of courtesy, the glory of knightliness. Spelling, quilting, husking, and other bees derive their name in the same sense as a show, a mode of surpassing and excelling. But there is a still better reading perhaps for edyl. Ettyl is to intend, contrive, attempt, prepare, set forth, deal out sparingly, as in teaching a child: that is our edyl. Lys, or lese is to pick, select, gather, glean. Thus, courtesy being the ornament of honour, Eettle-lys-be is intended for the teaching and the learning of courtesy, as the beigh or jewel, an ornament desirable for the child. The Babees' Book is the babees' in a peculiar sense. The babe is a 'Child's Maumet' (Gouldman). The baby in the north of England is still used for a child's picture. A babby is both a baby and a sheet, or small book of prints for children.
A car-whichet, or carra-whichet, is a retort, repartee, a witty word of quick return, or used, as we say, in giving 'whicket for whacket.' The English wh often represents the Egyptian kh as what does the old quhat. Thus, whichet is the equivalent of khekt (Eg.), to follow, return, repulse. Kher (Eg.) is a word, speech, to say. Kher-khekht, is the word that follows in return, the retort that repulses. Khekh is check, and this is the check-word [p.160] of wit, or the car-whichet. The wicket in the game of cricket is the place of repulse and return, or the khekh-t.
A story is synonymous with a lie, mildly described, but why a story and lie should be identical, English does not show, and Egyptian does. Steri is to lay out, be stretched out in death, to lie on the back. That is steri, to lie. To lie is to be stretched out, a story is to stretch out, as in lying, ergo, a story, a stretcher, is identical with a lie.
Mrs. Quickly's 'tirrits'—
'Here's a goodly tumult I'll forswear keeping house,
afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights,'
can be explained by the Egyptian ter and tert. Ter or teru means an extreme limit, extremity, to be hemmed in, bounded, hindered. The t (ti) makes the plural; so that Mrs. Quickly means, by her tirrits, that she is driven to extremities.
Another form of the word tarut (Eg.) signifies urgent requirements. In this sense she is not equal to the calls made upon her.
Stum is a name of strong new wine, used to fortify old weak wine, and to stum the wine means to strengthen it. The Egyptian stum is used in both senses. To stum is to paint the eyes, to beautify the eyebrows, darkening the lashes to heighten the appearance of the eyes. The stibium, or kohl, employed for this purpose is also called stum.
'If ever thou bist mine, Kate,
I get thee with scambling.'
says Petruchio; and, again, Shakespeare speaks of the 'scambling and ungenial time'.
The Mondays and Saturdays in Lent, when no regular meals were provided, were called scambling days. The word has been derived from the Greek skambos, indirect, oblique. But skam (Eg.) contains the necessary meaning. Skam is hurry-skurry. Shakespeare uses it in that sense. Scamp, in Lancelot, is to run in a hurry. To scamp work is to do it too hastily. And in Egyptian, skam means to stay or pause only for a short time, thence to be in a hurry, or hurry-skurry.
The word tit is a philological perplexity. It is applied to a small horse, and to a strumpet (a light tit). The Egyptian tat will explain why. This signifies to gallop in going. The tit is the opposite of the jog-trotter; it is the galloper or fast-goer. Hence the allusion—
'This good mettle
Of a good stirring strain, too, and goes tith.'
To go tit is to gallop. 'Tit-up a tit-up' is the mode of describing the sound of the gallop, and a tit, horse or woman, is the one that goes with a gallop, the galloping goer.
There is an old English dance in which the suitor for the lady carries a cushion and presents it to her kneeling. It is called the cushion dance. Kes (Eg.) means to dance, bend down low and entreat abjectly. The cushion is a type of kneeling down. Kes (Eg.) is to kneel and to adore. This root kes enters into the name of another dance and tune found in Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, called dargison. It is said to be, like the modern can-can, intended to provoke desire. Dair (Gael.) means to rut, sexual intercourse. Ter (Eg.), to engender, has the same significance. Geasan (Gael.) means to charm, enchant. Kes (Eg.) is to dance, allure, entreat; and an is to show, wanton, be wanton; ter-kes-an denotes the wanton dance as a mode of charming, inviting, entreating to sexual union, and is in perfect agreement with the asserted character of dargison. The Fijian women dance the bokole dance; in this they expose their private parts in token of invitation to the returning warriors. One name of their dance is dele, that is identical with ter and dair.
Many words not found in Egyptian were formed as English in the ancient mould. Light, for instance, is akht (Eg.), and this with the l prefix forms the word light. With the n, sign of no, negative, prefixed, we have nakht, or night, as the negation of light. The word snow, or as the Scotch have it sna, is not applied to the phenomenon. But sna means breath, to breathe, and is a first type of founding and shaping. Sna, then, is shapen breath. Nyfio in Welsh means 'to snow,' and nef in Egyptian is breath. Urs, again, is the name of a pillow or headrest. Urst would be the participial form of 'to pillow.' This is not known as Egyptian, but it forms our word rest. Ark in the hieroglyphics is the end of a time or thing completed. P is the masculine article the. At the end of its lifetime or completed period, the pig becomes pork, which is, when read in Egyptian, the ended or completed pig. The period is represented by a circle, the symbol of enclosure, or arking round. Thus ark, with the article p, yields our word park. Ark (Eg.) with the tie sign means the end of a period; 30th of the month; a binding, to swear, make a covenant. When the land was divided, the cotters were at one time bound to give the landlord a certain number of days' labour as rent. These were called darg days. Hence a day's darg for a day's work. Darg signified the amount covenanted for; as Egyptian t-ark is the covenant, the binding or bond, and end of the period. The same formation supplies the word dark for the end of the day. So likewise with the word nark. A nark is a common informer, the French narquois is a thief. Narach (Gael.) is shameful, disgraceful, as is the French narque. These we may derive from ark, with the n prefixed denoting no, not, negative, which makes n-ark the unbound, uncovenanted, an outlaw, one [p.162] who is forsworn; whence the epithet for the informer and the term of shame and disgrace.
Glam is a northern name of the moon, therefore it is argued the word glamour is derived from the moon. But the glamourie of the moon is altogether figurative and unreal, or rather typical. On the lunar theory we can do nothing with glams (Northumberland) for the hands, and glam, to snatch, seize hold of. Now ker (claw) in the Egyptian means to seize, lay hold of, embrace, and am is belonging to. Ker-am (gl-am) is thus the hand. The seizure enters into glamour. Kra is to seize, embrace, and mer (Eg.) is love. That is one form of glamourie. But kr, to lay hold of, seize, possess, contain, and am to be pleasing, charming; am, grace, charm, is more definite. Kr-am, then forms both glam and charm. Glam as the lunar name, is derived from kr (or gl) the course maker, and some form of am. Am (Eg.) means to wander, grace, favour, charm, visible, light. To charm with the voice, and a charm of birds may likewise be derived from khar, voice, utterance and am, to be pleasing, charming.
As mer (mel) is an Egyptian name for the cow and the genetrix this yields the root of the word milk. As the act of milking is named before the milk itself and the word milk, malg, melgo, and milchu, implies the sense of milking, we may find the act of milking the mel (cow) expressed by kua (Eg.) to compress, tighten, squeeze, as in milking. Khu (variant of akhu) is white and spirit, and melkhu would be the white or spirit of the cow.
To bear is derived from the Egyptian per to show, see, appear, appearing. The Egyptian has the t terminal in per-t, to void. That is our birth, or beared. And the n terminal of our past participle born, is the Egyptian un, to be. Born is to be seen, to appear, as the visible, borne, or born child. Our word child is by permutation the same as the Egyptian khart, a child. We have the same form with the k, r, and t sounds in croot, a puny, feeble child. This corresponds to the maimed weakling child of the mother, Isis, Har-pe-khart, who was born deformed, and who died prematurely.
The Egyptian bes is warmth, rising flame, to dilate, pass to and fro, transfer, and follow. Am, is pertaining to; amu, to desire, urge. Hence our word bosom. The old meaning of bosom is wish, desire. The bosom is that which dilates, moves to and fro, and transfers the breathing image of desire. Bes, to dilate, am, desire, is the bosom in the oldest sense, and bes-am is the dilating organ. Also from bes, to transfer, pass to and fro, from one place to another, and am, belonging to, is derived the name of the besom.
The Cornish word for the wasp is swap, supposed to be an inverted word. But according to the laws of language, the word swap reproduces the Egyptian name of the wasp, which is kheb, the [p.163] symbol of Lower Egypt, or Kheb. Waps is a vulgar name for the wasp, and the letter w often interchanges with the k. Khep (Eg.) is to transform, become winged; wap (Eng.) is to flutter, as the wings. War is the root, the s may be prefix or suffix, and war is the equivalent of kheb. Ys-wap is the wap or kheh.
Puss and pussy are worldwide names of the cat. Erse, pusag; Saxon, pus pus; Gaelic, puis; Irish, pus; Tamil, pusey; Afghan, pusha; Persian, pushak; Brahui, pishi; Chhintangya, pusu; Yakha, pusuma' Santali, pusi; North American Indian, pwsh; Hidatsa, puzike; Mundala, pusi; Nali (African), mpus; boosi (Tonga Islands); bes, Arabic, cat or lynx; and in Maori, which has no letter s, poti (pehti).
The solution of this philological problem, as of a hundred others, is that the source is Egyptian, and the same word went out on each line of the radii from the common centre. The name of the cat-headed goddess is Pash, and Pekh. She who gives the names to our pasch, pasag, or Easter festival. Pasht was the Great Mother, the cat said to have nine lives, the cat of the witches. An old black-letter book, called Beware the Cat (1584), says it was permitted to a witch to take on the body of a cat nine times.
That the origin of pussy, the cat's name, is Egyptian, is shown by the fact that shau is the cat. The article the prefixed makes this pshau, that is the cat. The cat-headed goddess is the cat personified, or p-shau-t, which welds into Pasht. The French form chat, for the cat, is shat without the Egyptian article p, and with it p'shat is the chat. The name shau was not limited to the cat, it also denotes the sow and the bitch, two other feminine representatives. Pasht was the she-lion as well as cat, and she is sha. This she-lion was also a cat and a leopard (as mau) in short pasht is beast, a typical name which various animals take. In Egyptian bes is the spotted skin, and bessa was a form of Baba, the Beast. In the Chinook jargon cat and cougar are both called puss. The cougar is great puss. This is the exact equivalent of Pasht, the Egyptian goddess, who is cat-headed, and as the she-lion stands for the lion-leoparded of heraldry, that was in Egyptian mythology the shorn and maneless sun of the lower region. In this way the divine Beast or Pasht gave her name to the Beast as cat, cougar, or other animals, symbolically named. In Malabar and Tamil, pussy, as pasu, is the cow. The lion, panther, and cat, have all one name in Egyptian, as Maui. And the Chikasaw Indians called the panther the Cat of God, and this was their emblem for the lion, which was then unknown to them. The Great Mother was represented by various beasts. Pasht implies an earlier form found in pakht, and this is the cat in sound. We have cat, seat, and [p.164] chat. The blossoms of the hazel are called cat-kins, and chats; gathering them is chatting. The French sound the sh in chat, but our cat is the Egyptian khat. The cat was adopted into the ancient symbolism that underlies mythology and language, as will be hereafter explained, as the catcher, the killer of the rat and mouse that ate the malt in Jack's House—the cat that had nine lives or a life of nine solar months during which no mouse or rat dared stir. Khat in Egyptian is the womb, to be shut and sealed. To khat is to net, and catch. There was a goddess named Mut-khat, the catching mother, the one of the female triad who kept the abode shut for nine months or during ten moons. Such is the nature of pasht, or pkht, the cat-headed divinity. 'Animal-worship,' as the foolish phrase runs, has no primary application to Egyptian typology. These trivial little words like puss, are the oldest and most precious in language, they possess the magic power of making the hieroglyphic images live once more. And the effect of these buried dead and forgotten things being made alive again, will be like revivifying a formation, all fossils, and causing it to move off with all that has been built over it.
It may be that the name shau, in Egyptian, being both that of cat and sow, is the origin of our 'buying a pig in a poke,' or making a blind bargain, for the Welsh and Bretons have it a 'cat in a poke,' we also have the 'cat in a bag.' The trick is supposed to have been played by palming off a cat in a bag for a young pig, which was no more a practice possible in the past than it is now. It must have been a symbolical representation; a permutation of the ideographs. Also shau the cat is she, and there is an English saying, 'She is the cat's mother.'
The name of Pasht is connected with our pasch and past; the time when the sun had passed the spring equinox in its yearly new birth. Pesch in Egyptian is the extent; pest is sunset, the extent of day; pes is the stretch, range, extent, or period; pest is the no. 9, the number of gestation, the extent in solar months. Our Elizabethan dramatists denoted a certain extent of time as a 'pessingwhile.' A candle thrown in to make weight and turn the scale is named a 'pessing-candle,' that is, reaching to the full extent. Here the scales were a hieroglyphic of the equinox. Pasch, Easter, is the extent of the year and turn of the scale. Pesh passes into pitch, the height or extent; to pitch up is to fill up; a pitchin-net extends across the water. At a pitched-market the corn is not sold by sample but by the sack or full extent. This root pesh gives us a meeting-point in language for pease and vetches, as they had a point of departure in evolution. Pease are also pesh and pesk. Pesh permutes with pek, p equates with f and v. Vetches in Chaucer's time were called vekke. Pease and pasche are identical in name, and were associated in season at Easter-tide. Pease and [p.165] vetches from one origin are an exact equivalent for pash and aft (fet) the still earlier beast-goddess, the hippopotamus-headed, who in priority of origin is as vetches are to peas.
If we take three common names for a secret language, such as the English cant, French argot, and Italian gergo, Egyptian explains them. Khent denotes something interior, within, inward, secret, secretly intimated, as is the meaning conveyed by the cant lingo. Argot and gergo are two forms of the same word which apparently preserve the original between them. Kher (Eg) is speech; khr abrades into ar. Khut is shut, sealed; kher-khut would modify into argot in one tongue and gergot in the other. London thieves call their secret language argot. Gar-gate for the throat proves that we have the kher for speech; also garre is to chirp and chatter whilst garry-ho is loose improper language, ho meaning out of bound, the garry then is the Egyptian kheru, speech. In the north tramps and beggars still talk 'the gammy,' and khamui (Eg.) is to bend and beg, cringe and sue; gammy, the beggars' language, is equivalent to khamui.
The word nix used in slang has come to be identified with nothing, or do-nothing. But nix in the thieves argot means more than that. Nake is to strip, make naked, steal. And this is the Egyptian nak. Nake means to steal, naka (Eg.) is to cheat, play false, deceive. In English nick is to deceive, cheat. Nick also means to take a thing apropos, that is the thieves' nix, to steal at the right moment, or in the nick of time. The do-nothing sense is found in nikau (Eg.) to be idle, lazy. This meaning, together with the nick of time, is found in the schoolboys' nix, a signal to the lazy nikau when the master is coming.
There is a curious practice still kept up in schools. When a boy is hard-pressed in any game and his antagonist is gaining ground upon him and he cries out 'nic'las' he is entitled to a suspension of the pursuit or play for a moment's grace. The cry of 'nic'las' always entitles him to this resting-space. This is taken to be an appeal to St. Nicholas, and yet, absurd as it may look, nek (Eg.) means to compel, and las (res) is to suspend; neka las reads compulsory suspension.
Amongst other origins given by Egypt to the world it would seem as if all the words supposed to be purely interjectional, which are commonly treated as spontaneous sounds rather than words, might be identified as proper words in the hieroglyphics with the meaning still more or less attached to them as it is found in other languages. It has been asserted that these interjections show a common tendency to utter the same sounds under the same circumstances as expressions of the same feelings. On this theory language must have had divers origins, and could not have met in the end to [p.166] be interpreted by a common alphabet. Waiving this, however, for the time being, it will suffice to show that this interjectional language of ours is not the original and spontaneous utterance of unthought-out meanings. The interjections are words extant in Egyptian, with the visible signs and ideographic value given to every sound. To this unity of origin we shall have to assign the common significance of the same sounds uttered with similar meaning in various languages, and not to spontaneous diversity or independent coincidence. An independent origin of the same utterances by different and far-divided people would not drift by any fortuitous concourse into oneness of meaning all the world over. The oneness was assigned in the beginning for us to find it in the end; this circle, like every other, had its centre. Meantime it is useless to speculate and theorize upon the origin of these exclamations, whether they were imitated from without or 'divinely revealed' from within, until we have taken the evidence of the hieroglyphics into account, and are better acquainted with what they have to show us in their picture language concerning the nature of these primitive words and sounds.
The universal sound of sighing, longing, wanting, desiring, expressed in many languages, which is embodied fully in our 'heighho for a husband,' has every meaning in the Egyptian uah to be soft-hearted; uha, to long for, sigh; uah, very much; uha-uha, desire, with uha the voice of desire. This uah is the nearest sound to the English 'oh.' In moments of intensest feeling we can find no utterance so expressive, or inclusive of all we mean as the 'oh,' but it is not a mere instinctive interjection. Every form of the 'oh' used as the utterance of different emotions and the mode of freighting sound with feeling is extant in Egyptian. 'Uah' is to be soft-hearted, whence the 'oh' of sighing, longing, yearning. U means to adore, hence the o of the vocative case. 'Uh' is to increase, augment, intensify very much, hence the prolonged 'oh' of poetry and prayer, the sign of magnifying. Uaua, to precipitate, cast oneself on, reduplicates the 'oh' as an increased expression of emotion. U—U—U has the force and significance of no. 3 or thrice. All that we mean by the 'oh' is explained by Egyptian in which 'uaa' signifies transmission. Another form in heh to seek, search after, wander in search of, gives us the 'hey' which with the Scotch still retains the place of the 'oh.' With the Maori 'oha' is called 'dying speech,' where we should probably say sighing. In the Wolof (African) dialect the sign is written hhihhe, the same as hih (Eg.), to seek, and search after.
The o prefixed to Irish family names, as O'Brien, was anciently the h. This affords double hold for its Egyptian origin. The equivalent for o, 'uau,' or ua (Akkadian ua, sole one), means the chief, the one, one alone, unique, whilst ha is the leader, chief, duke, the one who goes first or precedes. It is the same prefix with the same origin [p.167] as the Japanese o, the sign of distinction, and titular honour; the double oo being a hieroglyphic of greatness or chiefness. The Maori ouou signifies the few. The Egyptian uau is likewise the captain. The Gaelic form of this prefix is ogha, which represents the Egyptian akha, the great, illustrious, honourable, pre-eminent, noble, or the high.
The o is a modified ho, and these imply an earlier form with the k sound, as may be seen in the hieroglyphics. So in English the sounds of sighing in ha and hey imply the more vigorous utterance in heigh, ka to call, and kye to cry, and these also are Egyptian with the same meaning. So the o and h of the Irish and Japanese point to the khu or akh, an Egyptian title of the ruler and governor, with earlier forms in khekh the whip, and kaka to be tall, high, and to boast. Thus the earliest oh is khekh.
The oriental wah-wah, an utterance of open-mouthed wonder, is just the Egyptian uah, denoting great, very much; also the North American Indian hwah, and the Chinook hwa-wa, expressive of astonishment, is the Egyptian uah, an indefinite very much, increasing, pouring forth. The meaning of uah is to augment and increase the thing, as is done by the expression of wonder.
When the Camacan Indians want to convey the idea of many, or much, they hold out their fingers and say 'hi,' which is supposed to be a mere interjection requiring the gesture as an ideograph. The full sound is hie, often repeated as hie-hie. Now the two hands make the circle or total of ten. Ten is hyo in Nutka, hy-vu in Aht; that is, the circle or complete number. In the hieroglyphics, hih is many days, an age, aeon, a round number, or a cycle with a circle as determinative. And when the Camacans hold out their two arms and utter their hie, they make the hieroglyphic of ten, a typical sign of the total.
The Arab camel-driver urges on his camel with a 'yaah yaah,' the Basutos their oxen with 'wah, wah!' and in Egyptian haa means lift, carry away, go along; uah, very much, go it, increase. 'Hai hai' makes them proceed with caution. Hai is a cry used by the Lummi, and hoi by the Clallam Indians. Ay or Oy is a Quiche call. These agree with the Egyptian 'hi, hi,' to draw, drag, pull along. Hi also means to strike, and is therefore a modified khi, to strike with the khi (a whip). The French drivers cautiously guide their horses with a humouring 'hue, hue,' the North German with a 'yo.' This is probably the sailor's 'yeo' of the heave-o. In the hieroglyphics hua is denoted by a rudder and to bear (we say bear a hand), therefore it means guidance. The Swiss driver slows and stops his horses with a long-drawn 'hu—u—u—u.' This brings us to our English 'woh,' which is purely Egyptian. Woh is used not only for stopping, but signifies be quiet, be still. Uoh in [p.168] the hieroglyphics means abide, be quiet. And as we have the uoh in our woh, we may infer that the 'dust o' and 'peas o' of our street cries are Egyptian too. With this u the arrival is announced, and u or ui means to arrive. In addition to this arrival the dustman's cry may include the Egyptian uaa, lift, carry away, kidnap, as his sound is generally identified with 'dust away,' and the exact sound is 'dust oo-way.' The form 'geho,' Italian gio, used by carters, is most likely the Egyptian khu, to govern, to whip; khu-khu, to beat with the whip. 'Fan 'em along' is said of driving horses, and it means whip them along, the fan and whip being identical. So in the hieroglyphics the whip and fan are one in khi, a whip and to fan. Thus the labourer with his whip (khu) and his geho to the horses is a living representative of the Egyptian god who governed with this khu, whip in hand, as Osiris, Khem, or Ptah. The horses of the sun at one time required the geuo or khu, and seem to have taken their cue from the whip.
In the Midrash Ekha rabba the sun is made to complain that he will not go forth until he has been struck with sixty whips and received the command, 'Go out and let thy light shine.' In an Arabic poem the sun is described as refusing to rise until he is whipped. The whip would seem to be the antithesis of the noose sign.
A Galla orator is said to punctuate his speech with the aid of a whip which he holds in his hand and marks the pauses from comma to full stop, a flourish in the air denoting the sign of admiration. The action was symbolic, and the whip meant the same thing as in the monuments; it was a hieroglyphic of rule, divine rule, the commanding orator. The click of his whip probably represents the click, or kh sound that is older than verbal speech. The waggoner and his whipcord vie with each other in 'kh-kh,' or cluck-clucking to the horses, and the sound means 'go, go.' The whip was the sign of geho and go. Lastly, the whip is the khekh, and in its kh, kh, answering to the 'cluck-cluck' of the clicks, we bottom all these exclamations in o, oh, hey, ah, akh, khi-khi, and the rest.
Hun (Eg.) is to rule with the whip. And the Caribs described by Rochefort applauded the discourse of their chiefs with an approving 'hun-hun.' Hunt (Eg.) denotes the rite or act of consecrating. Hanu is to favour, nod, or cry; whilst han means to pay tribute, and assent, or express pleasure. Han-han is equivalent to encore.
The German drivers use the cry of 'huf-huf.' In the Westerwald huf is the call in backing the horse, and haufe means [p.169] go backward. The hauve (helve) of a thing in English is the hindward part. Hüf may be derived from the Egyptian hefu, which is applied to squatting down on the ground; that is a form of going backward, hindward, backing. F (or hef) also denotes direction in bearing and carrying. To huff in playing chess is to remove, put back a man. Haap in Devon means go back. Happ (Eg.) is to go backward. The Egyptian ufa signifies to chastise, whilst huff in English is to swagger, scold, hector; also auf intimates what it will be, it is a threat of uaf-ing or whipping; ofa in the Galla language, means to drive. This uaf (Eg.), to chastise, give them a whipping, is the manifest root of the old German wafena, or call 'to arms,' and the English wap to beat.
With us to hiss is an expression of disapproval and contempt, but there is plenty of proof that it was once a sign of applause. The Japanese express a feeling of reverence by a hiss commanding silence, identical with the English hush. The 'hush-sh' of the Sioux Indians, described by Catlin, has the same signification. With the Basutos, says Casalis, hisses are the most unequivocal marks of applause, and are as much courted in the African parliaments as they are dreaded by our candidates for popular favour. According to Captain Cook the people of Mallicollo showed their admiration by hissing. Egyptian will show that hiss and hush are no mere interjectional sounds, but consciously compounded words. Hes (Eg.) means to praise, applaud, celebrate, glorify. This answers to the Basuto hiss of encouragement. Ha-sa (Eg.), reads the salutation or all-hail following; and hes, to celebrate, to sing, is a form of the after applause. Hes is also a word of command, to will and order, which answers to the religious 'hush.' And in hes, to repulse by a look, we find the meaning applied to the sound in hissing as a sign of reprobation.
The exact form of the town-crier's announcement known to the writer thirty or forty years since was 'hoi-yea-yes,' in some cases 'o yea, yes.' This formula is abbreviated in the Cornish hoyz, which has every element of hoi-yea-yes. The English oh and ah are the Egyptian hat, and hai is to hail, address, invoke, and means Oh, Hail! Heh signifies search, seek, go in search of, wander about or look about and bring to light. Hes is the order to be obedient; hes, will, order, command. Hai-heh-hes then, is Egyptian for a command announced with the hail or oh, of the 'ha,' who was the crier and proclaimer in Egypt, to go and seek for and find something 'lost, stolen, or strayed' according to the mode of 'crying' yet extant.
The Brazilians have an exclamation of wonder and reverence written teh-teh. It is the same as the Egyptian tehu, to beseech. [p.170] Tua is to adore, Tua god of the morning, or day. Tua has the ideograph of worship and adoration.
A group of interjections which Tylor affirms has not been proved to be in use outside the Aryan limits depends on the root and sound st, Latin st, used by the French in stopping a person; Russian st, Welsh ust, German pst, English hist, Irish whist, Italian zitto and many more, all having the meaning of stop, stay, or stand.
In all the languages of the Indo-European family, says Curtius, from the Ganges to the Atlantic, the same combination sta designates the phenomenon of standing, while the conception of flowing is as widely associated with the utterance plu or in forms slightly modified. This, he observes, cannot be accidental. It is not. Nor is it because there was any general outbreak at various places and times of an universal consciousness which puts the one soul into the same sound. All these have it because in the hieroglyphics st means to stand, sit or stay. One of the types of 'Set' is the rock, an image of fixity itself: the stone is st. Sett has the sign of stopping and staying. Sit is the back of a chair; English seat, and settle. Sat is the floor for standing on. Sett is to catch, lay hold, stop. Staibu is to stop the ears. Suut is to stand. This sound is not the symbol of any abstract idea of 'to stand,' that is a modern notion. It has for hieroglyphic the phallus. The meaning of this standing, staying, stopping, was embodied in the ancient deity Sut, who was afterwards dethroned in Egypt on account of his nearness to nature. The god Sut, stander and stayer, was represented by the ass-headed cynocephalus, and this creature, according to Horapollo was adopted to symbolize the man who stopped at home and hugged his ignorance and had never been out of his own country. This certainly agrees with the meaning of Sut. The word sut has still earlier forms in shet, true, real, and in khet to stop, khet to shut, khet to catch hold, khet the seat, kat, a stone. The English shut, and French chut are intermediates of sut and khet. Nor is the t terminal necessary, for in the hieroglyphics the various illustrations of staying, of st-ing are expressed by kha or ka, a sound with no audible relation to either sta or sut. Yet ka is to call, cry, stand, stay, rest or be thrown to the earth. Ka is the seat, throne, land, earth, stone, floor. Ka is the phallus and the god. Where we call to sta or stay any one, the early Egyptians cried ka and made the hieroglyphic with two uplifted arms (±), and as ka means to figure, this was the figure of the full-stop, their earlier st.
In the Maori, which has no sound of s, sta is found in the same sense written with its equivalent ng, ngata, and gives the name to the leech, slug, and snail, as the stayers. What then becomes of the [p.171] 'physiologic potency' of the sound sta when its sense is rendered by ngata, and this takes us back to Egyptian where kt is the earlier form of Sut? The same word with the one meaning is st in one language, pst in another, ust in another, sut, shet, hest, khat and ka in Egyptian and ngata in Maori.
With the Egyptian masculine article p prefixed to st we obtain our words post and past. Sith is time past or since. In Irish sith is to leave off. The post stands. With the p added to sith, we have the past, for time gone by. Sut in Egyptian is denoted by a cake, with the p prefixed we get our paste. And a pestle-pie is a standing dish. Paste is also hard preserves of fruit for keeping.
The plu above mentioned as the pluvial symbol in sound is the Egyptian pru to flow out, pour forth, emanate, run. There can be no 'physiologic potency' in the sound of the l which was originally expressed by r, nothing can be more diverse to the modern ear, than the sounds of l and r, yet they are of equal value in language. This shows the pluvial idea was not born of the sound plu. Comparative philology without Egypt has been trying to stand on one leg alone. But when the 'Aryan' limits are proved to include Egypt, what will become of Aryan theories?
Hem is an exclamation, or so-called interjection, having the effect of stopping a person, or calling him back. Hum or humme in Low German is a cry to stop a horse, as is humme or humma in Finnish and its kindred dialects. The Dutch hem is explained by Weiland as an exclamation to make a person stand still. We call back or stop a person by crying 'hem' in a mystical manner, especially when addressed from the male to the female. The origin of this is traceable to the Egyptian hem, the seat, abode, place of stopping, and dwelling. The hem or ham, as stopping-place, became the Hamlet, and other forms of the Ham. This is provable. Still earlier is kam (Eg.) the staying place, to stop, and stay; Chinese, kim, the hem and boundary; and with the causative prefix, skam (Eg.), stop, stay, pass a time, dwell, remain a while. These abrade into sam. Thus we have skam, kam, and sam, with the same meaning of stopping, and staying. And because these, together with hem, denoted the place of stopping and staying, the word hem became the sign of calling to stop, and the German hemmen means to hinder, restrain, hold back, stay.
'We must not forget,' says Max Muller, 'that "hum," "ugh," "tut," "pooh," are as little to be called words as the expressive gestures which usually accompany these exclamations.' Whereas these our interjections are often the most secretly precious of ancient words in the world, most mystical and matterful in their meaning. Pooh answers exactly to the Egyptian fu, which means to interrupt, [p.172] stop any one, vice, sully, fault. But the same signification is still more strongly expressed by pah; and pa is an Egyptian exclamation, the meaning of which we are left to recover in our English pah. Fow in English is foul, to cleanse out, erudero, alvum, exonerare; it is used as a term of contempt. Some of these exclamatory words have too much meaning for fuller explanation. The beginnings were very lowly. The Egyptian fi means to disgust, be repulsive. Our English fi is a term of disgust at something foul and repulsive. Pshaw is an expression of disgust and rejection. It is applied likewise in repelling uttered foulness as an equivalent for dirty. In Egyptian sha-sha, disgraceful, disgrace, renders it wel1. Shanash is stink, putrid, impurity, sha being a substance, nash, nasty. Sha-tiruta is foulness and dirt, tiruta is our word dirt. This sha is a word of mystic meaning, degraded to the dirt. Sha is the substance born of; that maternal source of which flesh is made. Sha is the feminine period and the name given to cat, bitch, and sow. All words found in the mire were sacred words at first.
The interjectional shut, or shet, French chut, twice or thrice repeated implies an immediate shutting or bushing up. It is used to children and grown-up babblers who talk what they should not. It is a sign of mystic significance had recourse to when plainer words do not sufficiently express the meaning, or may not be used. Then it is we employ our Egyptian. Shet in that language is the name of mystery itself; shet is secret, close, shut, be closed, mystic, sacred, a sarcophagus, secret as death. In the form of khet it means shut and sealed.
Hum is expressly made use of when we think 'Let me see.' In Egyptian, um is to perceive. Um-h is to try, examine, or see. Ham is to conceive. Ugh is to feel a repugnance, to be terrified. Ukh (Eg.) is a spirit. Ukka, in the hieroglyphics, is the night, once a time of terror in a fireless, lightless world. Its earlier form is kuk, for darkness. That this name of night is the original of our ugh, may be inferred from the fact that ughten-tide is a name for the morning. So far from tut not being a word, it was in Egypt the eternal Word itself; or word of the Eternal. Tut-tut we say, meaning don't tell me. Tuttle is to tattle, or tell tales. In Egyptian tat signifies to tell. Teti is to stammer. Tet is to decapitate. Our tut-tut is to cut short, put an end to. Tethut (Eg.) is to imprison; tut-tut is intended to shut up.
La was at one time used as an emotional cry. La leof was equivalent to O my Lord, or My very Liege; La being a formula of reverence and obeisance. Slender says,
'This is all indeed—la.'
[p.173] La was equal to verily, truly, indeed, and Shakespeare echoes this sense. It is the Egyptian ra. Ra was a formula, probably of reverential address to the Râ; Râ (Eg.) likewise means verily. Râ has an earlier form in rek, and la in lack.
We have a vulgar English exclamation in provincial use supposed to be 'O My!' It is an expression of astonishment or wonder, and, as all who ever heard it properly pronounced can testify, it is sounded 'O mauhi!' and this as mahui is the Egyptian word for wonder, and to be filled full of astonishment. Moreover, 'O mauhi' expresses the same mixture of wonder and admiration as the word mahui. Uah (Eg.) is very great.
The frog in German is supposed to say 'quak' and 'kik,' but this is the hard form of the name of the frog, heka, in Egyptian. The dog is credited with saying 'wau.' Wau, and this is the Egyptian khau, or modified au, the dog itself. Both quak and pak are supposed to be uttered by the duck. Quak is the Egyptian kak. Seb who carries the duck, or goose, on his head, is called the old kak (kakur); ak is a duck or goose, and ka denotes the caller, whence kak or quack, the ak that calls (or the call of the ak). With the article p (the) prefixed to ak, we have pak, the ak. Ak permutes with ka and kaka (Eg.) means to cackle or quack. In Chinese the wild-goose says 'kao-kao,' synonymous with the kak of Seb, and the German 'qack' of the hen. The hen, when laying eggs, says 'glu,' and that is the Egyptian khlu-khlu (khru), to utter, give word, notice, cry. The gluglu of the hen, the Mongolian dchor-dchor of the cock, the German deckel-deckel, a call to sheep, and kliff-klaff, ascribed to the dog, are all based on this kilu (kheru), which includes many crying or calling forms of utterance; tekhel (Eg.) would be a call to remain; tek-khel, a call to affix or attach. The cock says kikeriki, in German. But kike is its name as the cock, kak, or crower, and rikhi (Eg.) means the intelligent, wise, knower, kak-rekhi is the intelligent announcer of time. A crow-like bird in South America is named the caracara, and in Languedoc caracara is assigned to the crowing of the cock. In Polish the crow is a kruk, so in the north of England it is a crouk. The Egyptian ka-ka, to cackle, yields the various names of birds and their cries found in kah-kah (British Columbia) a crow; kaka (Sanskrit) crow; ku-kuk, Malay, to crow: kuk-ko, Finnish, Sanskrit kuk-kuta, Ibo akoka, Zulu kuku, Yoruba koklo, to crow, koko-ratz, Basque, clucking of a hen, khkurekati (Illyrian) to crow. Moreover, Egyptian shows the principle of naming the cackle and the cry. Khekh (Eg.) is the throat, the gullet, and the quack, kak, kao-kao, cackle, kokoratz, and others are guttural sounds. On the other hand the cry, crow, or kheru, means to call with the mouth (ru), hence kheru is the name of speech, to speak, voice, the [p.174] word, utterance with the mouth, distinguished from kuckling with the gullet.
In Suffolk, according to Moor, crow keeping, or rather keeping of the corn from the crows, is called both 'waha-how' and 'kaha-hoo.' As our English word wheat is Egyptian it seems likely these are Egyptian too. Uah is an agricultural labourer, and hu is corn. Or ka denotes function, person, or type; ha is to stand and shout; hu is corn. Both forms read by Egyptian will render the corn-keeper, or preserver. Also hu (Eg.) is to drive. In English hoo is a cry used in pig-driving and in hunting. The Suffolk people speak of a man who has no ho in him; go and ho permute. In Egyptian we have the same modification of khu into hu. Khu, the synonym of go, means spirit, with the whip sign of go, and khu with the whip permutes with hu to make go; hu also is spirit. Egyptian will show us how it is that wahahow and kahahoo are two cries or names for the same thing.
The Spaniards drive away their cats with a zape-zape, hurry away. This is the Egyptian sapa, to hurry away, to make fly away, Arab z'afh, English zwop, to drive away with a blow.
When a countryman sees a shepherd's dog astray without sheep or shepherd he shouts ship-ship, to hurry it off. This is erroneously supposed to be a reminder of the sheep. Shab is an old English word for absconding and slinking; the Egyptian shap is to hide, conceal; the dog is treated as a truant. Also in the hard form, skheb (Eg.) means to goad and urge on. The Indians of Brazil call their dogs with an interjectional 'aa.' In the hieroglyphics au is a name for the dog.
The Bohemians call to their dogs when at work ps-ps, pes being a name for the dog. Egyptian will tell us why in both cases. Pesh means stretch out, extend, enclose, a shepherd would mean by it, range round. And peshu (Eg.) is bite; so that two meanings of the call as ps-ps are found to be Egyptian words for calling to the dog at work.
The cry to the dog with the Portuguese is 'to-to,' said to be short for toma-toma, meaning take, take. But in Egyptian ta-ta or tu-tu would signify to offer the food which the dog was called upon to eat, and at the same time say 'take the food.' It is probably the same at root as the German cry to the chickens 'tiet-tiet.' The Austrian pi-pi with which they call their chickens to be fed is rendered by the Egyptian pi and pi-pi, signifying come quickly or fly-fly. The word pi has wings for determinative, and one hieroglyphic pi is a fowl flying with mouth wide open, it may be to be fed.
The Germans are accustomed to call chickens to be fed with the cry of tiet-tiet; and in the hieroglyphics tut is a handful; ta is corn and to take or offer. Tat or tiet, therefore, would be to [p.175] offer corn by the handful; so that we have the corn given, dropped (ta-t) by the handful, (tut) expressed in sound (tet, tell, speech, discourse) by the 'tiet-tiet' of the caller, which says, as ta-ta would in Egyptian, take corn by the handful.
The English coop-coop instead of being an abbreviated 'Come up,' is more likely to be the Egyptian kap-kap, for hidden, concealed, as the fowls frequently are, hence the calling. For one reason this kap permutes with hap, to lie concealed, secret, screened, and in the child's play of hide and seek it is a law of the game to signify hidden by crying 'Hoop' which has the same meaning as the Egyptian hap or hep. Kahab, however, means to excite, incite, toss, as is done in calling 'coop-coop' and throwing the seed.
The English cry for ducks and ducklings to come and be fed is dill or dilly, dilly being the diminutive for the young ones. The Bohemians call theirs with the same word, dli-dli. With the r instead of l this is the Egyptian, tera, a young bird with the duck for determinative. Terpu is the name of some kind of duck. This suggests the American terapin, a name that might read in Egyptian as the duck that smells or is fragrant. One of the hieroglyphic ducks is the type of fragrance.
Tera, the young one or little one, passes into our words dill and dilling. This is corroborated by ter (Eg.) for the male emblem. Another meaning of the cry may be found in ter (Eg.), all, the whole of the young brood.
In driving fowls from the door or out of the house our farmers' wives generally cry, 'shu, shu, biddy, shu,' to make them go. Sheu is an interjection of disapproval, and this is one with sha. In Egyptian sha is to make go out; shu-ing and sha-ing are identical. Biddy, moreover, has the most curious equivalent. The English biddy is applied to a chicken: in Egyptian pati is a name for all clean fowl, and pa-ti is fly, 'go along' with you!
Supposing the forbidden cat to be skulking in a bedroom, the English housewife will hunt her out with the cry of skhat. This is an Egyptian word signifying an order, to make, drag, deprive. Skhat is the order to come out, or be dragged out and deprived of its hiding-place. Skat (Eg.) is to lie hid and escape notice. The English word of command expresses the Egyptian fact. The hare, which we call pussy, is skhat in Egyptian, the animal that hides and is hunted. In English also the hare is named scut.
The words nam nam-nam have become a sort of baby language now, because they belong to the infancy of the race. The Chinese child uses the word nam for eating nice things. Nam in the negro languages is to eat. A negro proverb says, 'Buckra man, nam crab, crab nam buckra man.' In Soosoo nimnim is to taste. In the Vei language nimi is sweet, savoury, palatable. Gnamo in Bhutani Lhopa is sweet. Nam-nam in Swedish [p.176] is a tit-bit. Nammet in English is a luncheon. Nambita, Zulu, is to smack the lips in eating, also in tasting something mentally pleasant. Neimh in Irish is heaven, heavenly. Nam, in Sanskrit, is to worship. In Yakaana nem-no-sha expresses the verb to love, as to make n-m-n. Again, there is one origin for all. Every value of the word quoted was assigned to it as current coin of language in Egypt. In the hieroglyphics Nem is sweet. Nem is delicious, delight. Nahm to wish, vow; nam, repeat, go again. Nem-nem to engender. Naham is joy, rejoicing, to enjoy. Num is speech, word, utterance. Nem is a religious festival. The hieroglyphics show that some of these words are in their second childhood, and not their first nem (Eg.), to be sweet and delicious, is netem or nem, according as the character is read as a syllabic net or phonetic n. So with nam, earlier khnam; and as the kha becomes sa, it will account for dialect difference, as in the Cantonese sam for nam, or vice versa. Khnam may thus yield kam, ham, nam, sam, in the process of derivation from the ideographs.
The Zulu pitches his song with a ha ha. Haya means to lead a song; hayo a starting song, also a fee given to the singing-leader for the haya. This is the ha and the hai of the hieroglyphics. Hai is to stand and hail, invoke; and ha to go first, precede, be the leader. It is identical with our English hey which leads off the refrain as in the old 'hey, Derry down.' The earliest known form of this burden is hey-deri-dan. In Egyptian hai is to hail (it may be howl); teriu, is twice, Tan to complete, fill up, and finish. Hai-teriu-tan is what is meant by repeat in chorus: that is our hey-deri-dan, or hey derry down.
We find our hey loly also to be Egyptian given as heloli to be mad, frantic. The full chorus is 'Hey lillilu, and a how lo lan,' in the apparently meaningless ballad burden: how is whole, or full, and lan, the moon. This suggests the song and circular dance when the moon was at full.
It was the same ha-le-hu heard by Adair which the 'Red Hebrews,' as he called them, sang whilst encircling round the holy fire, and identical with the allelu-jah of the Jews, the alala of the Tibetans, the halala of the Zulu Kaffirs, and the alala of the Greeks; the Polynesian lololoa, meaning drawn out very long, the English hulla-baloo (the yule or howling for Baal at the winter solstice), one with the hi-le-li-lah used by the medicine-man of the Dakotas who danced and shook his rattle and whirled himself round franticly in a state of nudity as a mode of charming away disease. The same that Livingstone heard in Central [p.177] Africa when the natives kept him awake with their wild ceaseless lullilooing through the night. There is one origin for all. The root meaning is better rendered in Egyptian with the letter r instead of l where ru-ru means to go, circuit, wheel, and whirl round. By aid of rert or errt, the hippopotamus, we see the ru-ru-ing was once applied to the revolving stars of the Great Bear in the Sabean ceremonies. Egyptian shows us how these primary sounds of the childhood of language were deposited as child-types. Thus ruru denotes the nurseling and the nurse, also to dandle and lull the child. Lillu in Coptic, lala in Polish is the child. The English lullaby is sung by the nurse in lulling the child. Lalle in Danish is to prattle. In Cymric lloliaw means to babble, prattle to a child. Lyuliati in Servian is to rock the child, and in Russian ulioliokat is to sing, rock, and lull the child to sleep. And the earliest nurse is rerit, the Assyrian lilit and Hebrew lilith, who in the hieroglyphics is the genetrix, as the sow or the hippopotamus, the old Typhon of the beginning, who first reared the child in heaven. In the Third Sallier Papyrus there is a vivid description of a battle in which the king Rameses II is surrounded by the enemy. He calls on the god Amon-Ra for help, and suddenly hears the voice of Ra behind him shouting 'Ma!' 'Hru-hru-ha-ka.' This passage has perplexed Egyptologists. De Rouge renders it 'I come quickly to thee.' To me the 'hru-hru' is a warcry to be understood by its cognates. Huranu is a form of courage. Hrut means 'Arm for war,' and this huru is the root of our hurrah. In the Maori 'Aru-Aru' is a cry signifying 'pursue relentlessly.' 'Hiri-hiri' is also to rush with relief, and energetically assist, as does the god in the Egyptian poem of Pentaur. It is the cry of a god inspiring the warrior, and in Maori hiri-hiri is the word used in repeating charms over a person with the view of imparting energy and inspiring courage. Also horu is a yell used in the war dance. 'Heru-heru' (Eg.) signifies extension, dilatation with joy; and this is the connecting link of language between the ultimate allelujah and hooray, or, in the Irish form, hooroo. The universal cheer this may be called, for it is the wild Irish huroo of battle; the Norman haro, the shout u ru-re with which the Mahouts urge on their elephants, the Nepalese hero, Siamese aura, Arabic ar-ra, the hurrar of the Norsemen, the Armenian haura, Ethiopic hurhur (go along!), the Maori cheer of the rowers hari-hari, and the French harer for setting on a dog. By aid of our 'Hip, hip, hooray' we may perhaps reach the root of the matter. The Irish form hooroo answers to the Egyptian huru, meaning additional, another, one more. Our 'Hip, hip, hooray' is generally given three or nine times, often followed by the 'one more' cheer.
The 'Hip, hip, hooray' may be a salutation of the rising sun. [p.178] Heru (Eg.) is another day, or one more round, and the ruru and heru both meet in the round. Huri-huri, Maori, is to revolve, whirl round. Iri-iri, in Fijian, means to fan repeatedly. We may infer that the Druids used to salute the rising sun with loud rejoicings, for he is called, by Taliesin, the lord or leader of the din or hubbub. The dawn was a festival of his return. And in Egyptian the Triumph of Return is expressed by the word 'heb.' Heb is the Festival, the triumph, and the return. The Leader of the Din is called by Taliesin and Aneurin 'rhwyu trydar,' literally the Lord of the Rhwyu. And the Fugleman of the hip-hip, is the leader of the hooray. Hep (Eg.) however, means unite, join together. Hep-hep-huru (Eg.) is unite all together for one more round or cheer, no matter what may be celebrated.
Our interjectional 'marry,' as in 'marry, come up,' in the combinations of 'marry on us,' and 'marry gip' would be well explained by meri (Eg.) a name for Heaven. Meri come up, would thus be an appeal in Heaven's name. 'Meri kip' is Heaven receive or keep, or clasp us. Marry-come-up, and marry-go-down are allied to the Merry-go-round and the Merry-dancers of the Northern-lights which dance in heaven. A see-saw is a merry-totter, it goes up and down. And this is the up-and-down image named meri. With the prefix ta it is tameri, the double land of Egypt, Upper and Lower, or if applied to meri, the Heaven, the Egyptian Meri-come-up, and Merry-go-down, of the sunrise and sunset, and the Meri-go-round of the solar bark. The Merry-go-rounds of our country fairs go up and down and round and round, and are made of boats.
The Freemasons make use of a formula 'So mote it be,' instead of 'So be it,' or 'Amen.' This mote is purely Egyptian, a rare form for May it be. Met is to fix, establish. Met is an ejaculation. Met means to pronounce conservative formulas. 'So mote it be,' is the conservative formula of the Masons, as it was in Egypt of the priests.
The present work is not intended to deal with the structure and formation of the various languages of the British Isles, which languages the writer looks upon as detritus and drift in new forms, of an older language common to them all. But it may be pointed out that our participial terminal ed or t is Egyptian.
Ta is to cross; ta-t is the cross sign of crossed. Ti is two; ti-t (tat) crossed, tied, twoed. Tna is to separate; tna-t is separated. Tna and tnat are the same as our tine and tined, applied to the fork. Tehlt is to rejoice; tehut to be rejoiced.
In the genders the feminine is formed by adding a t. The Egyptian explains the English. When we are assured that 'I loved' is 'I did love,' that tells us nothing of 'I am loved,' 'I am proved.' These latter did not originate in 'I love did,' 'I prove did.' They indicate the present condition as much as 'I love,' and yet it is the [p.179] second of two. The hieroglyphic t as ti, is a sign of reduplication and not merely the determinative of the secondary condition, a sort of figure of two which shows that beauty, ability, bounty, majesty are the reduplication of beau, able, boun, majes, not merely the secondary, but the doubled form, out of which comes the plural ti (Eg.) and ty in English. The hieroglyphic t in ti indicates that the conditions are one of two in ta and tat, love and loved, not limited to the present and past, or to the genders, and the second is the condition of being twoed; a doubled condition or secondary stage of being. The word did itself is in that second and dual condition as the past of do, just as in the words loved and proved we have the twoed condition of love and prove. In English tidde, happened, is the equivalent of did. Two of the hieroglyphic t's are a hand and a half-sphere; in each case one of two. The t was made the feminine article, as the secondary one of two. As specimens of this twoed condition we have the tod of wool, two stones; the tout for two gallons; tout, the posteriors; also titty, the young cat the tadpole; the Welsh tad, our dad, for the father, the second of two because the son was acknowledged first.
Our common termination en, as in open, sweeten, ripen, craven, withouten, leaven, appears to be the Egyptian un or en, to be, being, condition of being. This un, being, is distinguished in English in the adjective as well as participial termination, as in wooden, golden, brazen, to be of wood, of gold, of brass. At this stage we see the Egyptian un, to be, modify into n, of, and from; of gold, from gold., made of gold, or golden, as the condition of its being golden. Also the Egyptian er (ru) has the force of the English er, in greater, sweeter, happier. Er (Eg.) means more, more than; the repetition in er-er denotes very much.
The sole object of the present quest, however, was such matter as retains the original likeness, and tends to prove identity in the beginning. Grammatical structure of languages is not of primary importance; that belongs to the mode and means of dispersion and diversifying the one into the thousand languages which enable philologists to class them according to their later differences, and lose sight of the original unity. This, it has to be remembered, is only A Book of the Beginnings, hence the trivialities of the chapter now ended.
This page last updated: 12/04/2014