THE NATURAL GENESIS
NATURAL GENESIS AND TYPOLOGY OF PRIMORDIAL
AND ABORIGINAL AFRICAN SOUNDS
(Pythagoras taught that 'number' was the wisest of all things, and next to that the 'namer.')
Concerning the origin of language it may be briefly affirmed that very little is known, and nothing absolutely established. Also that the help to be derived from mere theorisers on the subject is chiefly negative. Hitherto the 'science of language' has been founded, and its origins have been discussed, without the ideographic symbols and the gesture-signs being ever taken into account.
The Aryanists have laboured to set the great pyramid of language on its apex in Asia, instead of its base in Africa, where we have now to seek for the veriest beginnings. My appeal is made to anthropologists, ethnologists, and evolutionists, not to mere philologists limited to the Aryan area, who, as non-evolutionists, have laid fast hold at the wrong end of things.
The inner African languages prove that words had earlier forms than those which have become the 'roots' of the Aryanists. For example, Max Muller has said that in the word asu (Sansk.), which denotes the vital breath, the original meaning of the root 'as' has been preserved. 'As, in order to give rise to such a noun as asu, must have meant to breathe; then to live; then to exist; and it must have passed through all these stages before it could have been used as the abstract auxiliary verb which we find not only in Sanskrit, but in all the Aryan languages. Unless this one derivative, asu, life, had been preserved in Sanskrit, it would have been impossible to guess the original material meaning of the root as, to be.' Here the African languages show that asu, to breathe, is not a primary of speech; no vowel is primary in the earliest formation of words.
In Egyptian ses is to breathe, and in Africa beyond—
|zuzu is to breathe in Nope.||zuzu is to breathe in Basa.|
|zuz " " Esitako.||yisie " " Kupa.|
|zuou " " Gugu.||zo " " Ebe.|
|zuezui " " Param.|
[p.236] The duplicated sound was first, because, as will be maintained, language originated in the conscious duplication and repetition of sounds. Ses (Eg.) also denotes the brood or breathing mare, a type of the gestator and mother of life, as Ses-Mut. And in inner Africa the mare is named—
|sosa, in Gbese.||sosa, in Hwida.|
|soasi, in Mahi.||sosa, in Tome.|
|soosi, in Dahnme.|
Seses, a gnostic form of Tesas (Neith or Isis) is also the mother of breath. This is further corroborated by ziz (or zi) in Assyrian, for the inherent life or soul; and by zuza in Zulu Kaffir, applied to the breathing life of the unborn child. The Latin esse, to be has preserved both the s's found in ses, to breathe.
It has been asked, How did dā (Sanskrit) come to mean giving? Professor Noire holds that primitive man accidentally said 'dā'. And there we have a 'root' of language! But dā is only a worn-down form of word found in Sanskrit. It is the Egyptian tâ, to give and take; also a gift. The full hieroglyphic word is tat, and it belongs to the stage of mere duplicated sounds and gesture-signs. It is written with the hand, which is the tat ideograph; English daddle for the fist; the inner African—
|nha, the hand, Meto.||naa, the hand, Matatan.||tata, the hand, Igu.|
Long before the abstract idea of giving was conveyed by dā or tâ, the tat was presented in gesture-language with the offering, or in the act of offering. The hand, however, is not the only tat, tut, or t. Another hieroglyphic, ta (or tu), is the female mamma, Û, the English teat and titty; Welsh, did and teth; Basque, titia; Greek, titthe; Malayan, dada, and Hebrew dad, for the teat or breast. These forms of the name retain the ideographic sound of t t. The mammae-sign is the Egyptian feminine article the; also a name of food, and to drop. 'Tat-tat' is a sound that may have originated with the child in sucking. It is still made by the nurse when offering the mamma, the primordial giver of food, to the child. Moreover the dā personified in Sanskrit is the wife, corresponding to the Egyptian ta. Language certainly did not originate with the 'roots' of the Aryanists, which are the worn-down forms of earlier words. It did not begin with 'abstract roots,' nor with dictionary words at all, but with things, objects, gesture-signs, and involuntary sounds.
Comparative philology, working with words in their later phase, divorced from things, is responsible for the false inference (one amongst many) that until recent times, later than those of the Veda, the Avesta, the Hebrew, and Homeric writings—men were deficient in the perception of colour; that there was, in fact, a condition of myopia answering to their insanity of mythopoeia. Geiger has even asserted that the language-maker must have been blue-blind. Max Muller [p.237] has affirmed that the blue heaven does not appear in the Veda, the Avesta, or the Old Testament. It is true that language did not commence by naming those mere appearances of things in which the comparative mythologists take such inordinate delight; true that colours are among those appearances and qualities, just as white is of wheat—when ground into flour. Many early languages have no word for blue as a colour, and yet blue as a thing may be found in them.
The Ja-jow-er-ong dialect of Australia uses the sky itself, 'woorerwoorer,' for blue. That was the thing.
In Maori and Mangaian there may be no name for blue as hue and tint; but this does not show that the people did not know the blue heaven from the white or red heaven when they saw it.
The 'Zulu' name signifies heaven, as The Blue. Hence, deep water is called zulu. Zulu ra, for the blue thing, literally means skyishness.
In Pazand the word açma denotes both stone and heaven, and, as shown by the Minokhird, heaven was identical with precious stone. The Hebrew heaven is the paved work of sapphire stone beneath the feet of the eternal. Samu (Ass.) is both sky and blue. The Egyptian name for blue is khesbet; that is, lapis-lazuli. The Egyptian heaven was either the Blue Stone, the blue temper-tinted steel, or the blue sea overhead. The water above is the blue heaven, and in the Ritual the blue called the 'Upper Waters' is identified with the blue woof of heaven in the worship of Uat, goddess of the northern heaven.
If a language does not possess a word for blue as a colour, it may for a blue stone, and certainly will for water. A lesson in the primitive system of colour-naming may be learned from the Hottentot language in which the word for colour itself is isib, signifying form, shape, likeness, and appearance. Such a word includes various qualities and properties of things under one name. Yellow (hūni) means the ground-colour, the sandy soil; brown (gamab) is the vley-colour, i.e., the bottom of a dried-up pond; red (ava) is the blood-colour; grey (khan) is the colour of the Bos Elaphus; spotted (garu) means the leopard; white is egg-coloured; am for green, originally meant springing up and shooting forth like the verdure. Hence when the rainbow is also called am the sense is not limited to the green-colour, because it likewise springs forth spontaneously. This serves to show how the primitive thinkers thought in things when distinguishing properties, qualities, or appearances how things first suggested the ideas that were afterwards conveyed by words; and how the more abstract forms of phenomena took names in language by means of the concrete—the unknown being expressed in typology by means of the known. [p.238] Power of perceiving qualities and distinguishing things did not depend on the possession of words to express shades of difference. Sweet could be distinguished from bitter when the one was only expressed by the mouth watering, and a smack of gustativeness; the other by spitting with the accompaniment of an interjection of repugnance. So far from 'conscious perception being impossible,' without a word for each colour, the one word uat (Eg.) for water does duty for several colours, for blue and green water, various paints, plants, and stones. Perception of different colours did not depend on divers words; one served with several determinatives in things. The early men thought in things and images where we think in words, or think we think. Plutarch says, 'They that have not learned the true sense of words will mistake also in the nature of things.' So we may say that those who have not learned the true nature of things will mistake the sense of words.
Professor Sayce holds that there is 'no reason in the nature of things why the word book should represent the volume which might just as well be denoted by biblion.' But the 'nature of things,' tells us the book was the tablet of beech-bark in Britain and the palm (buka) of Taht in Egypt. The biblion from bib (Eg.) to roll or be round, had been the roll of papyrus before it was the book. Indeed the oldest words can only tell the most important part of their history when re-related to things. Mere philology can never reach the origins for lack of determinatives.
The Egyptian 'kam' may be quoted to indicate the relationship of words to things. Kam signifies black; and Plutarch tells us the Egyptians applied the word to the dark of the eye, the mirror. The dark was the mother as reproducer of light. The pupil of the eye reproduces the image. To reproduce is to beget, hence 'kam,' also meant to form, to create. Here the word branches out in the region of things and modes of action; there being various means of forming and creating. Egypt was literally created by the Nile, and named kam, not merely as the black land! The sculptor forms and creates the image by carving; and 'kam' also signifies to carve. That which is carved may become the 'kam-hu' (Eg.) a joint of meat, or the 'cameo,' a carven image, the root for which word has never been found.* The word at first was but a wavering, wandering shadow of things which are the determinatives of its meanings that only become finally definite in the ideographical phase which the Aryanists have entirely ignored.
* Compare kamut (Eg.) to carve, or a carving. Kam also interchanges with kan, for carving in ivory.
There is no way of attaining the early standpoint and getting back to an origin for words except by learning once more to think in things, images, ideographs, hieroglyphics, and gesture-signs. The [p.239] primary modes of expression have now to be sought in their birthplace. In Africa only shall we find the most rudimentary articulation of human sounds, which accompanied gesture-signs and preceded verbal speech. The clicks, the formation of words by the duplication of sounds, the original types of expression, must be allowed to have been evolved in Africa until it can be shown how they came there otherwise. The African dialects, spread over vast spaces of country, point to an original unity in a language which may not he extant for the grammarian, and certainly will not now be discovered intact by the traveller. The earliest forms can only be found in the primary stratum of language, that is, in gesture-signs, the primitive modes of articulation, and in aboriginal sounds, although further connecting links of construction may be established. There is of course a kind of grammatical sequence in the order of gesture-signs.
From the present standpoint it would be idle to discuss whether the roots of language were at first verbal or nominal. Where should we begin? With which, or what language? In Maori, the same word at different times assumes the functions of several parts of speech. We also find that in languages like the old Egyptian and Chinese, the same word did duty as noun and verb or other parts of speech; and one word or sound had to serve at first for various uses, whether these are called the names of things and actions in one aspect, or 'parts of speech' in another. Gesture-language shows that verbs as words were the least wanted, and therefore the last named. Verbs would be first enacted before they were uttered in what we could recognise as speech. A cross is the hieroglyphic sign of verbs in general, and the hands were crossed in reckoning; the sexes crossed; the sun, moon and stars were observed to cross before there was a verb signifying to cross. A pair of feet going is the sign of the transitive verb to go (Í), and going portrayed in several forms preceded any abstract word for to go.
So far as gesture-language was primary, the verbs may have been first, but their signification was chiefly conveyed by the action. A Na-wa-gi-jig's story, in Ojibwa, told orally and with gesture-signs shows that gestures only were used to indicate the 'old man,' 'many,' 'happening,' 'quickly,' 'hatchet' (to cut), 'going,' 'starting,' 'wind blowing,' 'ice moving off,' 'to a distance,' 'cutting the ice,' 'it is so thick,' 'number two,' 'tired,' 'by turns,' 'together,' 'twisted three cords,' 'tied three together,' 'threw it out,' 'no go,' 'repeatedly,' 'drifted out,' 'we two,' 'nearly sundown.'
The analysis shows that the speaker who had words for his verbs and numbers naturally preferred to indicate these by gesture-signs, which were like the actions of an orator only they took the place of the words and made them unnecessary, because they had existed prior to such an application of words. Also the reduction of the noun to [p.240] make the verb might be amply shown as in tat for the hand and ta to give. So paf or bab (Eg.) denotes the being as the breath, and bâ is the abstract verb to be, to be a breathing soul. As breathing was observed and breath was named earlier than soul or abstract being, this also shows the verb is a form of the noun reduced.
Possibly there is a mode of proving how things were named first, when we commence with the most primitive data in the birthplace of words. If we start from Africa, say, with the snake, this may tell us how the noun was extended in the verb stage, by means of the actions of the snake. In Egyptian, hef represents an African type-name for the reptile or insect that crawls with the heave-motion, as the viper, worm, and caterpillar. These were named in one aspect from their movement, whence heft, or heft (Eg.) to crawl by heaving; êfa, in Welsh, to cause motion or heaving. But, the snake also sloughed its skin; hence, ébu, in Kaffir, to slough, and havel, English, for the slough. Here 'hef' becomes a type-word for things that slough, or shed, as well as heave; hence, avel for the awn of barley. This process, which is merely hinted at, and which might be followed illimitably, will prove the priority of sounds and names for things, the actions of which were indicated by gesture-signs.
Also certain types of things equate on account of the unity of origin in the thing itself. Thus the dd (British) and tt or t (Eg.) are signs derived from the female mamma Û. This becomes our letter d. D is also the door, as daleth in Hebrew, and the door is another feminine symbol. T or d is the feminine article (Eg.); the ru is likewise a female type, the door of life, the mouth of utterance (¨); and tr, dl or dr furnish the name of the daleth and door. Breast and door, then, become one in letters because both are interchangeable images of the female sex, and because things preceded signs.
It may be that the beginning of verbal language with a few simple names for things, sensations and actions is indicated by the mystical value attached in later times to names; their primitive preciousness being reflected in their religious sacredness. The word nam (Eg.), to repeat, direct, and guide, gives a good account of the name and its object. The passage of the Osiris through the underworld is effected by his preserving all the mystical names in memory. Ra has 75 names, Osiris, 153.
Time was when the 'name' was the 'word' and so it remained embalmed in the religious origins when the 'word' (logos) was the 'name' personified. Names, or substantives, potentially contained all the other parts of speech. These have been continued from the earliest time to the present and remain more or less identifiable according to the principles of naming.
Nor need we marvel that words should retain their identity and likeness in languages the most remote from each other in time and [p.241] space, when we find how few they were at first and how faithfully they were preserved. The earliest races preserved them of necessity. 'Never change the barbarous names,' said the Chaldean oracle. Also, the cry of the Greek writers was for the people to treasure up the 'barbarous' or foreign words in their language, although they might not know from whence these had been derived, nor what was their exact import. When pleading before the tribunal of eternal justice the Osirified deceased declares that among other saving virtues he has never altered a story in the telling of it. And such was the spirit in which the primitive races preserved their knowledge, customs, traditions, and words.
But we have to go beyond words to make a beginning at the stage where the act of sucking might have produced its own self-naming sound in the 'tt-tt' of the suckling.
The earliest verb would be indicated by the action; the first substantive by the sound accompanying the gesture or action. The gestures must have been simple, self-defining, and the sounds accompanying them would have a natural accord.
Some non-evolutionary writers on language, who, as the Egyptian priest said of the Greeks, wear the down of juvenility in their souls, appear to speak as if the origin of language itself depended on Grimm's Law. Indeed, one shallow reviewer of the previous volumes of this work thought it sufficient to condemn them if he put forth the foolish falsehood that the author had expressed supreme contempt for Grimm's Law.
Grimm, having pointed out a law of diversity which governs the interchange of certain phonetics, his followers have further assumed the non-existence of a law of uniformity in an earlier stratum of language. But words did not have their beginning in any known form of the Aryan languages, and the proto-Aryan is unknown to them, excepting that which has been created by the evolutionists of the inner consciousness.
Whilst limiting their comparative diagnosis to this restricted area they confidently affirm that when two words are spelt alike in two different historic languages they cannot be the same; Grimm's Law forbids. Further research and a wider application of the comparative process might have taught them that it does nothing of the kind. Indeed, the true moral, the workable and profitable deduction, to be derived from Grimm's Law is that words do persist and retain the same signification in spite of, and not in consequence of the racial or the dialect differences that may be tabulated under that law.
The followers of Grimm have led men to believe that beyond the little Aryan oasis there is a desert world, trackless, chartless, limitless and that none but they could lead in the work of showing the way; towards which they have not yet advanced the second step. For [p.242] Grimm's Law has been to them the obliterator of landmarks throughout the range of the prehistoric past. According to the prevailing delusion and the preposterous pretensions of its advocates, it is not only unsound and non-scientific but positively pitiful for any one to compare the words and myths of two different languages which they have not previously proved to be grammatically allied; this being one of the 'first principles' of 'comparative philology.'
They have come to the conclusion that hardly any relation exists in language between the sound and the sense of words, whereas in the earliest stages both were one; and now the fundamental sense can only be found in that phase of unity. On the same kind of authority it would be unscientific and absurd to compare the gesture-signs of the North American Indians with those which survive in the Egyptian hieroglyphics until we have first demonstrated the grammatical affinity of the Algonquin and Egyptian languages. Thus stated the theory exposes its own exceeding futility.
In Grimm's Law—to use a very homely metaphor—philologists have found a fork and laid hold of it at the prong-end. The prongs are known to them, but the unity beyond is unknown and denied, because they have not reached the handle.
One writer says the Aryan and Semitic languages may have been originally connected, but there is no Grimm's Law which will allow us to prove this. He therefore assumes that connection and relationship can only be demonstrated by unlikeness. For Semitic let us substitute Kamitic, and a comparative vocabulary in these volumes will then show that the word-stock of Egyptian and Sanskrit must have been essentially the same in the proto-Aryan stage.
Prehistoric and pre-Aryan words have remained the same independently of later grammar or phonetic systems. Words coined when we had but ten letters or yet fewer sounds, survive in their primitive forms even when we have twenty-six. Addition did not always involve transliteration or supercession, any more with words than with races; whereas continual re-beginnings in language and in mythology are assumed by the non-evolutionist interpreters of the past.
But it is only by the aid of what is here designated as 'comparative typology' that we could ever reach the stages of language in which the unity of origin can be recoverable. Gesture-signs and ideographic symbols alone preserve the early language in visible figures. We are unable to get to the roots of all that has been pictured, printed, or written, except by deciphering the signs made primally by the early man. The latest forms of these have to be traced back to the first before we can know anything of the origins; these are the true radicals of language, without which the philologist has no final or adequate determinatives, and hitherto these have been left outside the range of discussion by Grimm, Bopp, Pictet, Muller, Fick, Schleicher, Whitney, and the rest of the Aryan school. [p.243] Fuerst is another example of the men of 'letters' as opposed to ideographs. He asserts and reiterates at every letter that the Hebrew alphabet is not ideographic, and that each name is only employed or intended to represent the initial letter! This is an entire reversal of the fact; but the doctrine is prevalent in current philology, which has ignored the earliest sign-language altogether.
Wherever the ideographic signs of the oldest civilised nations can be compared evidence of the original unity becomes apparent, just as we find it in gesture-language. In fact, the farther we go back the nearer is our approach toward some central unity. From circumference to centre diversity diminishes and dwindles. Finally the most primitive customs, rites and ceremonies are the most universal, and these could not have proceeded from the circumference towards a centre of unity. The unity was first even as the diversity is final.
Grimm's Law does not tell us why certain letters are interchangeable in different languages and dialects, so that Zeus in Greek represents Deus in Latin, and Dyaus in Sanskrit. Neither can any of Grimm's followers. They only affirm that it is so, without knowing the διότι. In Hebrew and Chaldee the t and s are interchangeable. M and n are constantly permutable in language. In English the f and gh interchange, and are equivalents; to such an extent is this carried that the gh is also sounded as f in laugh and cough.
Here the Egyptian hieroglyphics constitute the connecting link between language in inner Africa and the Aryan phase or status out of it. The origin of Grimm's Law is made manifest in the earliest mode of speech, and the facts are patented, so to say, or stereotyped in the hieroglyphics. These show the ideographic phase of language which preceded the alphabetic.
For example, the builders-up of language backwards, who are able to start from a vowel as a 'root' (they do so with 'i' to go), assume that the word mand in Sanskrit is what they term a mere strengthening of a root mad. The hieroglyphics show that mand and mad (mat) are identical because an ideographic men preceded and deposited the consonant m; and the sign is readable as a men (ideographic and early) or a later phonetic m. Beyond Egypt, man is muntu in Wakamba, and in the neighbouring Wanika he is muta; but the sign of the idea, action, or person depicted by the 'men' ideograph is first, the syllabic mu is later, the letter m is last. So in the languages of the Gabon the names for the head run through muntue (in Kisama and Lubalo), ntu (in Nyombe and Musentandu), mutu (in Kanyika and others) and otu (in Mbamba). In these the ntu of the same group also implies the form in muntu, which modified into all three.
Grimm's Law is just as applicable to certain inner African groups of languages as to the Aryan. In the Bantu class the dialect differences and variations in phonology are manifested by the mb of [p.244] Swahili modifying into p in Makua; the ng (Swahili) into k (Makua). The t (Swahili) is represented by r (in Makua), and the f by k. Ch, hard, and s in Swahili, are represented by sh in Makua; whilst the t of neighbouring tongues is th in Makua.
Names were first given with and to ideographic signs. Thus a tat, ter, or tek deposits a phonetic t, and all meet to mingle at last in one letter t which may take the place of a dozen ideographs. Various signs of men are reducible to one phonetic m.
If we take the tes sign (tesh, tech or tek being variants) this deposits both a t and s in the hieroglyphic—and henceforth the t and s go their several ways in forming future words.
An ideographic hef will deposit both a phonetic h and f. In the hieroglyphics the snake is hef in an ideographic phase. In the phonetic stage the snake supplies the sign of f. The hef only will account for the Latin fœmina being pronounced hœmina, as, according to De Roquefort, it was by the ancient Romans, or for similar interchanges of h and f.
The hieroglyphic mes ? will account for the Greek Σ being continued as a kind of m = s.
An 'original Aryan d' may be represented by l in Greek or Latin simply because there was an ideographic proto-Aryan del (its name remains in delta and daleth, which describe an ideographic d) or ter, as in Egyptian; our English door. The Hebrew letters aleph, beth, gimel, daleth continued that ideographic phase in their names as those of things which are yet identifiable. Here is an illustration.
The hieroglyphic ret 4 a cord used for tethering cattle when grazing, passed into the hieratic, Phoenician (or Hebraic) and Syriac letters as the teth, , , or . In Hebrew 'teth' signifies something twisted or tied, which the ret loop explains. In Egyptian this ret deposited a phonetic r. The same sign appears as the r called rat in an Irish alphabet. Thus the ideographic ret becomes an r in Egyptian and Irish, and a letter t in Phoenician and in other alphabets.
In the inscriptions exhumed by Davis at Carthage, the Phoenician letters daleth and resh are two slightly varied shapes of the ret; and these are sufficiently like our own figure of four, 4 to show that it also is a form of the same original hieroglyphic. So the Coptic delta and lauda , which is r in Bashmuric, are two other variants of the ret; and delta has the numeral value of 4, in common with the Hebrew daleth. Ret (Eg.) denotes the figure, and one sign of the word is the footstool with four steps; another figure of 4. An ideographic ret will further account for the same figure or letter being ro in Coptic or Greek and d in the Gothic . Now the sign [p.245] in the letter stage would determine nothing respecting the origins; we must trace it back to the ideographic ret before we can discuss the origin or unity, and there the Phoenician letter is an Egyptian hieroglyphic which was continued in the ideographic phase as the Irish 'rat' or letter r.
The primary form of the sign (as well as of the word) is ideographic. This shows that when certain symbols are found in the Vei and Lolo hieroglyphics, which are alike to the eye and yet may be different in phonetic value, the bare fact will neither disprove nor determine their unity of origin. That must be sought in their ideographic values. In the process of reduction and distribution an ideographic del deposits both d and l as phonetics; an ideographic men deposits both m and n; an ideographic tek, which is a cross, both t and χ as two different crosses in the phase of letters; an ideographic kef both k and f; and so on through all the ideographic signs that passed into separate letters. Just as the ideographic pesh or peh, the rump of Pasht, the lioness, 6 became the letter shin in Syriac. We have a record of this process preserved in the traditions of the British Barddas, who tell us they began with ten original Ystorrinau, or ideographic signs, which Beli reduced to the value of letters, and then added six others, making sixteen in all.
But the original unity of various letters in the ideographic phase is afterwards shown by their being equivalent and permutable in later languages, whether at the beginning or end of a word. Thus tset, the inner African type-name of the hill, is continued as tset in Egyptian, where it becomes both set and tet, as in our Tut Hill. Set and tet are then interchangeable in the later languages. It is the same with the tser (רצ) hill, which becomes the ter (or tel) and set. In the Arabic group the number 8 is both temen and seme in Beran; damana in Wadai; and asmanye in Adirar.
One form of the ideographic uts (Eg.) is a palanquin. The word uts signifies to suspend, support, bear aloft. This is an ideographic original which will account for the Sanskrit ut, up, upwards and the Zend uz applied to upholding. It is the same with the equivalent terminals as in bit, Sanskrit, and biz (Old High German), to bite, and other instances in which the t or d of one language is represented by s or z in the other. If we take the variant tech this will account for the equivalent terminals t and ch in the English pit and pich, or bat and bak, as variants of one word. An ideographic kaf will account for the interchange of k and f in Swahili and Makua as well as in English. By this process of deriving the consonants singly from the ideographic phase in which they were dual or duplicated we can prove the proto-Aryan origins to be hieroglyphical and Kamite.
Beyond Egypt the inner African languages are yet in possession [p.246] of certain complex sounds that the European finds impossible or very difficult to reproduce. He can learn to make some of them singly, but cannot talk in clicks. Clicks have been detected out of Africa. Three clicks, heard in the Chinook, Texan, and other North American languages are described by Haldeman. Two are found in the language of Guatemala, according to Bleek. Klaproth affirms that clicks occur in Circassian. Whitmee distinguished clicks in some dialects spoken by the Negritos of Melanesia. But Africa is the true land of the clickers, as the Bushmen, Khoi-Khoi, Kaffirs, Gallas, and others; and this is the only known country of the clicking cynocephalus who was the predecessor of man. In addition to the clicks we find such sounds as ng, mb or mf, gb, kf, rl or lr, dlw, mhl, mni, and tsh with its variants tch, dzh, th, etc. The nasal ng bifurcates into n and g. In Fiji the letter q is sounded ng. Ng also modifies into nh and n. Lr is represented by l in one language, and r in another. Captain Burton sometimes renders the same sound by the r that others render by the l. There is no distinction between r and l in the hieroglyphic ¨. Hence the necessity of going back to the birthplace of human sounds to reach the radicals of speech. Nothing short of inner Africa is of primary importance in the origins of language.
Captain Burton has remarked, that 'The Eafen, or Dahoman, a dialect of the great Yoruba family has, like the Egba or Abeokutan language, a G and a GB, the latter at first inaudible to our ears, and difficult to articulate without long practice.' This gb with its variants, such as kf is one of the radicals of all languages. It might have been the first word formed of two different consonants, unless we except the 'ng' and tesh, it is so primitive and prevalent. Such an original is still implied, even in English, when the 'gh' of 'laugh' is sounded by an 'f.' The mb (or mfu) is likewise extant when the ancient Welsh m is sounded v, and the m and v are confused in the cuneiform language. The 'ng' persists in the Australian, Maori, Kaffir, and other languages as an initial sound, and with us as a terminal. It is represented by the Hebrew ayin ע, Egyptian nk, and the hieroglyphic ng of the British Coelbren staves.
Now the names of the goat and cow can be traced back to the inner African stage of pronunciation. The goat is
|kapros, in Greek.||gafr, in Welsh.||khapu, in Peguan.|
|caper, in Latin.||gavar, in Cornish.||tkhavi, in Georgian.|
|gabhar, in Irish.||gabhar, in Scotch.||abr (or kabr), in Egyptian.|
The accent in âbr denotes an abraded form. This we recover in the inner African name of the goat.
|gbarie, Pika.||biri-i, Khoi-Khoi.||oboli, Udso.|
|eburi, Matatan.||epuri, Meto.||bora, Muse.|
|biri, Ai-Bushman.||obori, Okaloma.|
[p.247] Gb and km interchange, and in an earlier stage of articulation the goat is
|nkombo, in Musentandu.||kombo, in Mutsaya.||nkombo, in Bannde.|
|nkombo, in Kabenda.||kombo, in Kasands.||kombo, in Nyombe.|
The cow is
|gava, in Sanskrit.||gavyado, a herd of cows, in Slavonic.|
|gavi, in Gothic.||kaûi, or khepsh, in Egyptian.|
|khabai-kumi, in Indo-Chinese.||geûsk, in Pahlavi.|
|chuo (plural chuowi), in High German.||gows, or govjado, in Meto.|
|cow, in English.|
The Sanskrit gaus is said to be from a root gam. And the cow is called
|kom, in Karekare.||nombe, in Kanyika.||nombe, in Marawi.|
|komo, in Kaffir.||nombe, in Lubalo.||nombe, in Nyamban.|
|ngom, in Mutsaya.||nompe, in Runda.||enobe, in Matatan.|
|gbami, in Pika.||nowpe, in Muntu.||enope, in Meto.|
|kebma (water-cow), in Egyptian.||nowpe, in Kiriman.|
The original African form that includes and accounts for the whole of these variants is found as
|ngompe, in Songo.||ngombe, in N'gola.||ngombe, in Kasands.|
|nkombe, in Kisama.||ngombe, in Basunde.||ngombe, in Musentandu.|
|nkombe, in Kabenda.||ngombe, in Nyombe.||ngombe, in Mimboma.|
|ongombe, in Pangela.|
So is it with the name of the knee. This is either
|goab, or goam, in Hottentot.||ngbe, in Gbese.||ngumbi, in Gbandi.|
|gbua, in Mano.||kembi, in Soso.||ngombi, in Landoro.|
and other African dialects. But the natives are not trying to talk Aryan!
These things were named in the stage of primitive pronunciation, when what we now know as consonants were sounded double as in 'ng' for the later n or g, and 'mb' for the later m or b, before they had been fully evolved, made out, and discreted into our single sounds.
It is at this depth of rootage we have to seek for the reason why m and b, n and g, t and s (or k), k and f, etc., became interchangeable in later language, and we shall find it is because they are twin from the birth as aboriginal sounds, first uttered by one effort, which were afterwards evolved, divided, and distinguished as two distinct phonetics or letters in later language.
The process here indicated is that of Nature herself elsewhere, one of dividing, discreting, and specializing on lines of variation from an original form of embryonic unity.
The 'origin of language' itself is not a problem to be attacked and solved by philosophical speculations like that of Dr. Noire. However happy the guess or ingenious the generalisation, it can only be one of the many may-have-beens to which there is no end. To know anything with certitude we must go back the way we came, along a track that only the evolutionist is free to pursue and explore.
The formula—'No reason without speech; no speech without reason;' or 'without language no thought,' is equal to saying 'without clothes no man.' We know now that the dumb think, and that man had a gesture-language when he was otherwise dumb.
Darwin's work, The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, and Colonel Mallery's contributions on the sign-language of the North American Indians, are of more value here than all that has been written on the origin of language by philologists, philosophers, or metaphysicians. Speculations without the primary data can establish nothing; and these have never been collected and correlated by those who were evolutionists.
We are now able to affirm on evidence that there have been continuity and development from the first, in accordance with the laws of evolution, and that there was but one beginning for language, mythology, and symbolism, however numerous the missing intermediate forms or widely scattered the nearest links.
Fortunately Nature is very careful of the type when it is once evolved. In truth she seems to stereotype. Nothing is entirely lost or altogether effaced. In various ways we are still the contemporaries of primitive man. The Red Indian and Black African still pound and eat the seeds of grasses for their bread, as did the savage before the cereals were cultivated for corn.
The type of warfare that was founded when the monkeys first threw stones at each other has been continued ever since. It still dominates when the hundred-ton cannons hurl their ponderous shells. So has it been with other types, in gesture-language, in verbal speech and aboriginal sounds, in totemic customs, religious rites and primeval laws. There have been development and extension, but no one can point to entire re-beginnings.
Unity of origin in language was only possible when the human intelligence was too limited to disagree and diverge; and the race was a mental herd making the same signs and sounds for ages on ages, without choice in the matter or desire to differ. The name of the cock, for example, may be claimed to be self-conferred, and, according to the onomatopoeist, was so given and might be given at any time in any language or land. But this might be, this choice in the matter, if extended, would let in a deluge of individual differences which was not possible to a common origin. There could be no consensus of agreement if all mankind set up as conscious language makers according to the principle of imitation or onomatopoeia. There was but one stage at which the principle could have wrought in the creation of language; that was at the commencement.
The beginnings were not, as some writers on the subject would have us believe, like mere circles in the water or the air, which give their [p.249] impulsion and pass away. They are registered for us palpably as the rings in the oak, when we can once start from the centre. Many illustrations of this fact will be given, for it is the misfortune of my work that the thesis could not be substantiated or presented without a burdensome mass of verbal details.
Considering that the human form was evolved out of or thrown off from antecedent forms, and that man commenced as one link of the chain of being prolonged invisibly into the past, it may be assumed that for vast period of time he was but slightly growing in advance of his immediate predecessors; and that the means and modes of expression previously extant, were shared by him and continued in his primary stock of sounds. We may be sure there was no such chasm in nature as is perceptible between them now. On looking back we see a great gap or gulf, and are apt to ask where is the bridge? or how did man suddenly leap the gulf? Whereas there was no sudden large leap any more than there was a vast chasm, at the time, to be leaped. Fresh points of departure were then so fine as to be imperceptible now.
The cries of animals and birds constitute a limited language. The call of the partridge, the neighing of the horse, the low of the cow, the bleat of the lamb, the bark of the dog, are a current coinage of ascertained value, quotable for ever in their intercourse. These are understood and answered as the language of invitation and defiance, of want (or desire) and warning. That being so the cries are typical, and therefore on their way to becoming recognised as phonetic types. In fact they are recognised by the animals as phonetic types by which passions are expressed in sounds that evoke a kindred or responsive feeling, and this through a considerable range of manifestation. The cry of warning is well known in the rook's caw, the dog's bark, the monkey's chatter, when he utters the signal of danger to his fellows. The cebus azara of Paraguay is credited with uttering six different sounds, which are said to be capable of exciting corresponding emotions in its fellows of the same species.
At least man's predecessors uttered a language of warning and want, as the expression of protecting power and the need of protection—the voices of nurse and child—in sounds of physical sense that could be transmitted or imitated.
Man's earliest expression of gesture and sound was equally involuntary, or as we say, instinctive, and the first step toward the formulation of language was made when the natural interjections were consciously repeated on purpose to arrest attention. Conscious repetition of the same sound is the first visible phase in the morphology of words. We can explain certain evolutionary processes without being able to tell how or why consciousness unfolded, or even what is consciousness. [p.250] This, however, applies to the prehuman consciousness as well as to that of man.
Personally the present writer holds that the main difference between man and monkey consists in the growing rapport of a more inner relationship of life with the conscious cause and source of life, of which man himself becomes conscious, more or less, in the upward or inward course of his growth, as the child does of its mother; and that each form of animal life has its own particular relationship to life itself and carries its own abysmal light in the depths of its darkness, like the miner in the caverns of earth, or the Pyrosoma in unfathomed seas.
That, however, is not the side of phenomena or experience with which we are here concerned. Nor would it avail those who do not postulate such a consciousness before or beyond (or becoming) the human. But, we have only to start from the mimesis and clicks of the cynocephalus, and assume a slight increase of imitative power as a result of growth in man, to see how in presence of his deadly enemy the snake, for example, he might utter his sign of warning in an imitative manner. As already said, the cerastes snake or Puff-Adder became the letter f; which was a syllabic fu and an ideographic fuf our puff. Fu (Eg.) denotes puffing, swelling, dilating, and becoming large, vast, and extended with breath. The snake distended and 'fu-fu'd,' and thus made the sound that constitutes its name. This sound would be repeated as the human note of warning, together with an imitative gesture enacting the verb, or portraying the likeness of the thing signified by the sound, and such a representation made to eye and ear would belong to the very genesis of gesture-language. It would commence when the ape thrust out its mouth, as it does, and fu-fu-ed or blew at the snake; and when man imitated this action with intent, the language consisted in the man's becoming the living ideograph of the snake—for this is the fundamental principle of gesture-language; and here we may take a furtive glance and catch a glimpse of man's likeness to the monkey, just as Harold Transome recognized the likeness of his own face to that of his unknown father reflected sidewise in the mirror. Naturally also when in conflict with each other or with their foes, the nascent race having command of sounds would to the puffing and hissing of snakes, the yell of the gorilla, the roar of the lion, or the voice of thunder, and thus turn their own terrors inside out to impose them on the enemy by means of representative noises, which have been more or less continued by the savage races and are still employed by them in battle.
Dogs, horses, and other animals are known to be so affected by fear and terror, also by cold, that their hair will stand erect. Of course terror will turn to cold. This action was involuntary at first, but with the resulting growth of the arrectores pili or involuntary muscles, [p.251] came the means of erecting the hair, bristles or spines at will, with the intention of striking terror.
The earliest natural manifestations that were produced independently of the will were afterwards turned to account and reproduced at will, when anger and heat took the place of fear and cold. So would it be with the voluntary production and development of the sounds that were at first involuntary. The earliest vocal signs ever made intentionally must have had a likeness in sound to the thing visibly imaged, in order that the mental link of connection between eye and ear might be established; and the onomatopoetic duplication of sounds would correspond audibly to the objective representation of ideas with gesture-signs. Conscious repetition of the same sound by imitation would constitute the earliest application of mind (or even the sense of want) to the primary matter of language. At this stage the sound of 'tt-tt' produced involuntarily by the nursling child, as a need of nature might have served the child of larger growth for thousands of years, as his sign in sound for food, eating, hunger, or as the invitation to eat, which is yet made by the nurse to her nursling in its own language, with the reduplicated lingual-dental click.
Voluntary reproduction of the sound first made instinctively and involuntarily would constitute the earliest phase of language. Intentional reduplication which turned the 'tut' of the child's smack into 'tut-tut-tut' as a sign of the want that created the intent; or the puff-adder's 'fuf' into 'fuf-fuf-fuf' as a sound of warning would be the first creative act in the morphology of words. But such simple sounds as 'tt-tt' 'fuf-fuf' 'rur-rur' 'mam-mam' may have existed and sufficed as the means of audible expression for other thousands of years before two different consonantal sounds were consciously combined to form one word.
When the sound of 'ka-ka' was added to 'fu-fu' and the resulting word kkf or kâf was evolved, then language in the modern sense was founded. We get the necessary glimpse of this earliest phase in the prevalence of the principle of duplication still manifest in the simplest and oldest of known languages and words.
But one fundamental mistake made in applying the onomatopoetic theory to language, is in supposing the primitive radicals of language to be words. Onomatopoeists like Canon Farrar and Hensleigh Wedgwood include words containing three different consonants, among those held to be copied on this principle. This shows no gauge of the problem, and leaves no room for the human evolution of sounds, without which their value could not have been sufficiently identified. When the magpie, raven, or parrot has had its tongue cut, and been taught to utter two different consonants in one sound, it can speak. But the natural and involuntary sounds are single, or they are not consciously combined; and these were the only sounds that preceded human speech. [p.252] Aeons of terrible toil must have been spent in the evolution of the earliest human sounds into a vocal coinage, during which man was getting his lungs inflated and his 'tongue cut' for talking; and when these were at length evolved, they had to be consciously combined and recombined to form words before language could exist according to the present acceptation of the term. Sounds like fu-fu, ka-ka, and ru-ru were common to man and animal. But no earlier animal than man ever consciously combined two different consonants; and language points back to the time when man himself could only produce and duplicate the same sound to form his few words.
We say the clock ticks each time the pendulum crosses; and it has been assumed that the word tick might be directly derived from the sound. But this tick is a word containing two different consonants, and not an onomatopoetic sound; that would be simple, like the nursery gack-gack, for the tick-tick. Tek in Egyptian is a measure of time, and means to cross as does the pendulum in the tick of time. Tick is one with touch. The touch may make a sound or it may not; the tick or touch of the pulse does not. Thus the word tick is not the mere expression of the sound.
The Shah of Persia laughed at the Tatar arrows that went 'ter-ter.' Here they seem to make the sound of ter or through as they tear through the air. But if the t and r had not already been combined in a word, the arrow would not have said 'ter.' The arrow is a ter by name. The hieroglyphic ter is a shoot or tree, and the shooting 'ter' that pierced through of itself was earlier than shooting with the arrows that were named from the shoot, and had been so named in inner Africa, where the arrow is called—
|ntere, in Matatan.||aturo, in Anfue.||adere in Ashanti.|
other cutters through being—
|dira, the axe, Biafada.||daruma, the sword, Landoma.||terang, the knife, Mandenga.|
|doro, " " Kasm.||deremana, " " Solima.||otalo, the spear, Pepul.|
|doro, " " Vula.||deramai, " " Kisekise.||tiele, the axe, Vei.|
|darba, the sword, N'godsin.||direndi, the knife, Murundo.|
In the hieroglyphics the ram and the goat are both named 'ba,' and the onomatopoeist would derive the sound of ba, directly from the animal ba; and if a non-evolutionist he would not question the capacity of the human being to utter the sound 'ba!' at any stage or time. But this could not be until man had evolved his labials or was able to bring his lips together. When it was first attempted to teach the Mohawks to pronounce words with p and b in them, they protested that it was too ridiculous to expect people to shut their mouths to speak. F is the inner African prototype of p and b. B and p, says Koelle, are sounded like f, and are only employed in a few languages which possess no real f. Fuf-fuf and fu-fu would thus [p.253] precede the p and b of later language. The hieroglyphics show us the fa passing visibly into the ba. Nef or neb is represented by the snake (fa), and the ram (ba); one sign combines both in a snake with a ram's head! Read by the cerastes, this would be nef; by the ram it would be neb.
In the Mohawk stage of development homo could not have imitated the 'ba.' Nor is ba the earliest form of the name. Ba is common as a worn down inner African word. But the ram is called—
|mba-hina, in Mende.||pabea, in Kasm.||fôb, in Balu.|
|pieba, in Koama.||pebea, in Yula.|
The goat is named—
|febi, in Banyun.||mbea, in Kano.||membi, in Bagba.|
|bafui, in Limba.||mbé, in Eafen.||mampi and mpi, in Pati.|
|mefi, in Nalu.||mbi, in Bayon.||momfu, in N'goala.|
|mbea, in Goburu.|
It seems evident that the ba or fa was only uttered at first by aid of a purchase or leverage on the nasal m or um, hence the well known 'mfa' and 'mba,' ba being a final deposit. The ba (Eg.), is a type of the breath which is faba or pefu, and these are interchangeable with mba and mfu. It is commonly asserted that the dog says 'bow-wow,' but that is a fallacy; no dog ever yet uttered the labial 'b.' It has also been said that the Egyptians and Chinese called the cat miau, a name that obviously would never have been applied to the dog; the miau being so evidently onomatopoetic. Yet miau is not limited to the cat nor is that the earliest form of the word. Mmâu (Eg.), is a type name for the beast; and this may be the cat, lion, or lynx; the original mau is maf or mmafu (Eg.), (whence maft) and in inner Africa the name of the dog is—
|mfu, in Pati.||mfa, in Babuma.||mvi, in Tumu.|
|mfu, in Kum.||mpfa, in Ntere.||mpua, in Melon.|
|mfo, in Balu.||mfa, in Murundo.||mboa, in Bumbete.|
|mvuo, in Bamom.||mfo, in Dsarawa.||mbo, in Isuwu.|
|mvo, in Param.|
and numbers more.
The word relates primarily to opening the mouth, which is named miftou in Eregba; mombo, in Murundo, a variant of mfa; in the same language, for the dog. The mouth opens and divides in the two jaws when uttering the voice, and this same word is an inner African type-name for two, or twain, as the divided one. The wide-open mouth of the beast is the ideograph of the sound; as it is in rur (Eg.), the name of the hippopotamus, which also means to round out, as did the open mouth of the monster. On the Gold Coast the king's mouth, or spokesman, is called his 'mouf,' and in English the 'muff' is originally the bad speaker. This will [p.254] explain why mbo in Bute, and mupio, in Afudu signify the greedy, open-mouthed, and devouring one.
|mve, bloody, Koro.||mbwayi, fierce, ferocious, Swahili.|
|mfa, " Babuma.||mwwi, a thief, lb.|
|mbe, bad, evil, N'kele.||mayub, vicious, Hindi.|
|mbe, " " Bambara.||mapoya, a devil, Carib.|
|mfu, death, Swahili.||miffy, the devil, English.|
|mbi, evil, Zulu.||mauvez, bad, evil, French Romance.|
|mofa, mocking grimace, Portuguese.||maufez, demons, French Romance.|
The Amakosas applied the same type-name to the gun, which they call 'umpu.' This um is designated a prefix, and it is applied to any new word that may be introduced into the Kaffir dialects, but it belongs primarily to a primitive mode of articulating sounds; and these sounds were the prefixes in the sense of precursors to all later speech.
The earliest utterance here belongs to the primitive mode of articulating; the type-word includes the mau and ba in one, and they were deposited as two separate names for the cat and ram in a later and more distinct stage of utterance. We have to derive the earliest words from the primitive mode of producing sounds, which is more or less extant, for this aboriginal mfu or mpu still survives in our interjectional 'umph' as well as in the name of the dog itself which is amp in Ostiac and emp in Vogul.
The puff-adder could 'fu-fu,' the birds and frogs could 'ka-ka,' the thunder could crack-crack (or 'kak-kak,' as it must have been before the combination of k with ru, and is so in the Maori Ngaeke), but man alone could combine his nasal and guttural in one sound, as or turn his 'um' and 'fuff' into mfu; two of the most important sounds, we may now say words, of the inner African languages. It is unnecessary then to think of the pre-man as listening round like a modern onomatopoeist, or a schoolboy, imitating all he could. Imitation of each other's voices or sounds is very rare in the animal world, the mocking-bird being almost alone.
It is quite probable that no philologist nowadays would be able to make anything verbal out of the earliest articulated sounds that accompanied the gesture-signs of primitive man, such as the clicks, for example, and yet, as the acorn potentially encloses the future forest, these aboriginal sounds contained the germs of all the vocabularies extant. No natural sound, however, has really been lost in the process of artificial development.
Translators, in trying to catch the exact expression of the 'Oji' (Ashanti) name, have rendered it by nineteen different variants. The original African articulation here involved may be shown to include the ts, tch, tsh, tz, tk, th, ds, dsh, dz, dk, dj, and other sounds of some remote original that has descended and been modified on lines of variation. Koelle gives the sound of this ds as that of [p.255] ch in church, but there are many racial nuances in the expression of it. The same variants are to a considerable extent found in Chinese. For instance, the old sounds of cha are tsa and dak, and the variants of cha and t'ak are dso at Shangai, tsa, Chifu, and tso, Canton. A variant of chi is tszi or dszi; and djak is a variant of choh, just as it is in the inner African dialects. In Egyptian it is represented by tek, tesh, or tes. Many of the nineteen variants are extant in European phonetics, such as t, k, s, sh, ch, g, j, etc., which answer to the racial or other variations of the African phonology. Now the sound of a sneeze, when consciously copied, takes shape in some such utterance as techu (ch, as in change), or teshu. A child known to Hensleigh Wedgwood called his sister by the name of 'Atchoo,' on account of her sneezing.
The American Indians represent the sneeze by their 'haitshu,' 'atchiau,' 'atchiui,' etc.; and in the inner African languages, the sneeze, or to sneeze, is denoted by
|tise, in Bute.||tisou, in Timbuktu.||dsidsi, in Nupe.|
|tiso, in Mandenga.||tiso, in Bagrmi.||daisle, in Pepsi.|
|tiso, in Toronka.||tisam, in Dsarawa.||dsese, in Ntere.|
|tiso, in Dsaiunla.||atusaa, in Kadzina.||dsoase, in Babuma.|
|tiso, in Kankanka.||ntiso, in Landoma.||sase, in N'gola.|
|tisoa, in Vei.||tsatsiso, in Yala.||zezi, in Dsekiri.|
|tise, in Kisekise.||tsesm, in Timne.||sisa, in Igala.|
|tiso, in Mende.||dsisin, in Bulom.||esisiana, in Aro.|
|tise, in Mano.||dsisu, in Bambara.||dsuna, in Momenya.|
|tisewo, in Gio.||disa, in N'ki.||siani, in Krebo.|
|tiselu, in Wolof.||disa, in Kambali.||sani in Gbe.|
|tiseou, in Gbese.||dsedsie, in Goali.||suano, in Balu.|
|tisou, in Soso.||dsedsi, in Ebe.|
Further, the nose, the organ of sneezing, is named.
|dsi, in Bayon.||iso, in Oloma.||disolu, in N'goia.|
|dsui, in Nso.||asot, in Timne.||dizolu, in Kisama.|
|atsi, Param.||zakui, in Saldanha Bay.||dshon, in Akurakwa.|
|adzi, in Pati.||tasot, in Baga.||dizunu, in Songo.|
|atse, in Bagba.||tasut, in Landoma.||dsenegu, in Bnduma.|
|edsu, in Tumu.||dzaoti, in Momenya.||idsiou, in Afudu.|
|etsoci, in Mba.||diodsu, in N'keie.||esen, in Okam.|
|aesi, in Opanda.||dsolu, in Undaza.||ndzon, in N'ki.|
|aseie, in Malali.||dizolu, in Kasand.||nidsui, in Alege.|
|isue, in Egheie.||dizulu, in Nyombe.|
The radical tes (or tsh) is employed in the Xhosa Kaffir language to express the sound of whispering; tsu is to whisper softly. This continues the relationship of sound to breath expressed by the sneeze.
The same radical that is inner African for the nose, the sneeze and for whispering may be detected in the name of the nose in the North American and other languages, as:—
|ohtch-yuksay, in Tuscarora.||tisk, in Hueco.||dizan, in Mayoruna.|
|wuschginqual, in Minsi.||idst, in Attakapa.||tsono, in Upper Sacramento.|
|ochali, in Shawni.||tzee, in Apatsh.||tusina, in Jakon.|
|cushush, in Tekeenika.||tchaje, in Ottawa.||uchickun, in Micmac.|
|intshiu-ongeu, in Chimanos.||wutch, in Massachusetts.||yash, in Old Algonquin.|
|intshu, in Guinau.||ottschasse, in Potowatami.|
If the principle of onomatopoeia be admitted at all in the formation of language we may claim that it applies to the natural genesis now suggested for this radical of sound by which the sneeze named the nose, or, as it were, supplied the substantive to the involuntary verb.
This prolific primate was continued in the Egyptian ses and ssen, i.e., tses and tssen, for breathing. Tes is the very self. Ses is breath; sen, to breathe. Ziz (Assyrian) is inherent motion; ziz (Heb.), to flutter; ziz, the rabbinical bird of breath or soul; ziz (Unakwa), the nose; sisa, the soul, Ashanti; sus (Arabic), origin. These are all related, like the sneeze, to the soul of breath.
If we bear in mind the facts that the breath, sen (Eg.), is one of the Two Truths of existence; that senesh (Eg.) means to open, discover, to open of itself; that which is self-manifesting, self-revealing, and senesh is the sneeze in English; that the sneeze is an involuntary emission of breath in the form of sound, and the breath takes voice of itself in the sneeze, there is nothing incredible in the suggestion that the sneeze was one of the primeval factors of language.
Sound or voice was self-revealed in sneezing; whilst the rites and customs of sternutation prove that the sneeze had a peculiar significance for the primitive man, and that the character of a discoverer or revealer was assigned to it, or was self-conferred and continued by the self-articulating sound. Thus the sneeze was one of the openers. It opened its passage by means of the breath (sen). The spirit (or breath) spoke in the voice of a sneeze. The sneeze is expressed by the radical tch or dsh, as natural interjection to which the nasal terminal was added for determinative in forming the word tchen or dshen, as the name of that which opens of itself, discloses and makes apparent in sound. Moreover in Chinese tsai is a particle of exclamation, which, as a word, signifies beginning, and tsze or tse is the Self and the likeness of the Self.
The sneeze translated by a compound fenuis-spiritus-lenis of sound (although the description may be far too fine) would deposit this ds, tz, tzh, tch, tsh, or ch according to the variants of sneezing and pronouncing, on the way to becoming both t and s as does the tes sign in the hieroglyphics. The Hebrew daleth was sounded or 'dz.' The Hebrew letter צ is likewise a tz pronounced 'tza.' The same sound survives in the Welsh dzh for j. The Welsh tisio or tisho, to sneeze, is identical with the inner African. But the word being already extant in the language of the Cymry, when they came, it would not have to be evolved onomatopoetically in Welsh.
Professor Sayce has suggested that language began from the sentence rather than the word; and there is a sense in which this is true; but it was a sentence full of meaning not of syllables, such as can be conveyed by a gesture, a look, or a single sound. The sound of [p.257] the sneeze is rendered by the word tes (Eg. Coptic djas) and this word denotes a whole sentence, or so many words tied up, a case of words; and the self-revealing, self-defining, self-naming sneeze, or the click, the 'tut-tut,' the puffing, or hissing contained a sentence of words in one act, and one self-naming sound.
In attempting to trace (or suggest) the development of prehuman sounds into verbal language it appears to me that one line of variation may be found in the growth of a conscious manipulation of the breath. Conscious manipulation of the breath lies at the origin of the Hottentot clicks. Whereas the ordinary sounds of language are now made by the expulsion of the breath, the clicks are produced on the opposite principle.
The clickers, qua clickers, do not simply exhale their meaning in sound; they express it by the aid of inhalation; they first lay hold of the air and suck it in to turn it into articulated sound. The breath is prepensely drawn for the click to be articulated. They are inspirates instead of aspirates. For instance, we have three aspirates, a guttural 'ch,' as in the Scotch loch; the 'h' aspirate of the English and the aspirated 'p,' (peh) of the Gael. These three may be paralleled by three of the Hottentot clicks out of the four employed by the Namaquas, which are produced by a reversal of the process.
While the anterior part of the tongue is engaged in articulating the click the throat opens itself to pronounce any letter that may be sounded in combination with the click. In pronouncing the click simply by itself without any supplementary vowel or consonant sound, the breath instead of being thrown out as is usual with other articulations of the voice, is checked or drawn inward, but as soon as it is combined with any other sound it is strongly emitted. It is difficult to speak the Namaqua fluently or intelligibly until the art has been acquired of clicking and aspirating without any perceptible interception of the breath.
We describe the four clicks which are heard in the Namaqua Hottentot by the characters c, v, q, x. C is a dental click; it is sounded by pressing the tip of the tongue against the front teeth of the upper jaw and then suddenly and forcibly withdrawing it. V is a palatal click, and is sounded by pressing the tip of the tongue, with as flat a surface as possible, against the termination of the palate at the gums and removing it in the same manner as for C. O is a cerebral click according to the alphabetical system of Lepsius. It is sounded by curling up the tip of the tongue against the roof of the palate, and withdrawing it in the same manner as during the articulation of the other clicks.
X is either a lateral or a cerebral click; that is, it maybe sounded either by placing the tongue against the side teeth or by covering it with the whole of the palate and producing the sound as far back in the palate as possible, either at what Lepsius calls the faucal or the guttural point of the palate. European learners almost invariably sound it as a lateral, and hence their articulation is harsh and foreign to the native ear. A Namaqua almost invariably articulates this click as a cerebral.
The Consonants which can be combined with these clicks are h, k, g, kh, n.
The Amaxosa Kaffirs employ three clicks which are 'represented in writing by our letters C, Q, and X; the C being sounded by withdrawing the tongue sharply from the front teeth; the Q by doing the same from the roof of the mouth; and the X by drawing the breath in a peculiar way between the tongue and the side teeth.'
This mode of making the clicks implies a more conscious manipulation of the breath for the express purpose of utterance, and shows us the inhalers of air and expellers of sound as intentionally at work in shaping the result as is the man who in whistling formulates a tune out of breath, or the player who produces the vowel-sounds from the Jew's harp.
The first thing that the future speaker had to do was to get his lungs properly developed, by constant inflation, for the utterance of sounds. He was in a condition akin to but probably worse than that of the congenital deaf-mute. We see the experiment of the dumb acquiring the faculty of speech going on in our own day, and are shown the processes by which they are taught to articulate. The first lesson is that of blowing or expiration in order that the lungs may be fully expanded, and the child instructed to breathe properly.
Padre Marchio says: 'The breathing of deaf mutes is as a rule short and panting. The lungs have the double office of supplying oxygen to the blood and of furnishing breath—the material of the voice. The lungs of the deaf-mute being used for only one of these purposes, are imperfectly developed, and their functions performed in an abnormal manner. Hence their disposition to pulmonary disease.'
In the formation of syllables the pupils practise by repeating the same sounds, such as pappa, poppo, etc. The word is formed, if possible, in view of the object, which the Padre calls 'Language in presence of the Real.'
The Hottentot's inhalation of air to produce the clicks may be compared with the habit of the toad, the puff-adder, and others, of specially inhaling air when angry to inflate and dilate the body and express their feeling in a rushing volume of sound; the early involuntary action being continued and repeated intentionally. But as nothing else in nature is known to produce one consonantal sound by inhalation and another by expulsion of the breath, and as such sounds as 'mfu' and 'nga' are produced by this double process, which combines a nasal and aspirate in the one case, and a nasal and guttural in the other, these words may possibly show us homo in the position of making a nasal sound whilst drawing in his breath and combining it with a guttural aspirate in the expulsion of his breath, as a continuation of the mode by which he produced his clicks; this would yield compound sounds like nga and mfu. Now, supposing this mfu (or mfa) to have been consciously continued as a sound produced by a double action of inhalation and expulsion of the breath, to be afterwards distinguished by the separate sounds of m and b, these would be numerically equal to the singular m and plural b of the numbers in language. Also the nasal is equivalent to in and the aspirate to out, the Two Truths of the beginning. Moreover, m and n are universally interchangeable. In Maori, as in some of the African dialects, the m, [p.259] n, and ng interchange; and if we take the nasal n and guttural ga in nga or ankh, to be the conscious result of the double action, we find the numerical value was continued in ankh for the duplicator, the duplicated, and to duplicate, and in ankh the pair of ears, or in nakh the testis. In certain inner African languages the bull is named from and second to the cow, as—
|nan, cow; naba, bull, in Koama.||nóko, cow; nako-ba, bull, in Nupe.|
|anoko, cow; anoko-ba, bull, in Basa.|
Ank, nan, and n are interchangeable, and they especially denote the feminine first, the one that duplicates. The ba is male and secondary. In Egyptian nuba signifies the 'all,' which was combined in Sut-Nub.
In the chapter on the Two Truths it was shown that water was the first, breath the second. Breath, pef (Eg.) or puff, corresponds by name to no. 2 as befe (Nki). In puffing we have another of the self-naming sounds like the sneeze. This also is one of the prototypes in primordial onomatopoeia. What we term light and lightness being primarily called puff or pef from the breath, this becomes an archetypal word with several variants in the spelling and many applications of the name. Pef wil1 serve as a type-name for all breath-like and light things, elements, characters, qualities, actions, and modes of manifestation in language generally.
Countless light things may be found under this name. Papapa in Maori is the calabash, chaff, bran, moss, the shell of an egg. The bubu, Zulu, is a puff or mushroom, also the down-feathers of birds. The abebe in Yoruba is a fan. Febe, Zulu, the light person, a harlot. Bebeza in Xhosa is fibbing, or, as the Zulus say, 'talking wind'; it may also be called fabling. Babble is light speech. The Welsh pabyr is the light thing, both as the rush and the rush candle. The puff is a light tart; the bap a light cake, and pap is light food. Papa in Russian is bread. Boja, Brescian, to puff and breathe. In Sanskrit phupphu denotes panting, gasping, puffing; pupphula, wind or flatulency; and pupphusa is a name for the lungs. Edofofo in Yoruba denotes effervescence or irritability to such an extent that it means literally a liver of foam. Boffy (Eng.) to swell and puff; bof is a name of quicklime. Paf (Eg.) for wind and breath, to fly, be light and puffy, will account for the naming of the thin fluttering tremulous flower, the poppy; French papou or pabeau, and for the poplar-tree, Latin populus and German pappel, the tree of light, fluttering, palpitating leaves. This root enters into the names of fluttering wing-like motion as in the Bavarian poppeln, to move to and fro, and pfopfern to palpitate; poff (Eng.) to run fast; popple to bubble. Yeast dumplings, which are very light, are, in this sense, termed 'popabouts.'
In Kanuri (inner African) bellows are the bubute, and in Ife smoke is named efifi. Smoking the pipe is accompanied by puffing. The fife, pipe, pibrock, and the Algonquin rib are blown with the breath. The pub is a blow-tube used by the Indian bird-hunters of Yucatan; the bobo, Xhosa, a blow-tube. A light leaf called a pepe in Maori is blown to attract birds by imitating their sounds. The act of piping is also called pepe. The blown bladder was a kind of bauble. The pap, bubby and the bubbly-jock (turkey-cock) are so named from their swelling-up. Fuf (fâ, Eg.), bubi, in Vei, is to puff or swell in pregnancy; or to puff and swell the sail. Beb (Eg.) is to exhale, as in the bubble. In Zulu pupuma is to boil and bubble; pupu, Tupi, to boil up; pup, Maori, to boil up and bubble. In English fob is froth, fuf is to blow; bub, in Scotch, is a gust of wind. The buffle is a vent-hole in a cask. To bauffe is to belch; pupa, Maori, to eructate; pipiki is wind in Bantik; afufa, Galla, to blow; fufai, Magyar, to blow; puput, Malay, and pubet, Quiche, to blow. Vivi, in Vei, is the tornado or hurricane of wind. Also vovo denotes the lungs or lights as one of the blowers. The toad is the bufo in Latin and bufa in Magyar, as puffer and blower.
Pape or ppat (Eg.) means to fly. The ppat or pât are the flyers as fowls, pep or pef being the breath, wind, a gust of air; this was the first flyer, the means of flight, and the winged things were named after it. Pepe in Maori is the moth; bebe in Fiji; the papilio in Latin is the butterfly. Ni-pupa, Makua, is the wing; bubi, Malay, the feathers; pubes denotes the human feather or hair. Baba, in Xhosa Kaffir, is to flutter as a bird, whence babama, to swell and flutter in feeling.
The butterfly was an early type of the soul of breath. The Karens of Burma call a man's soul his 'leip-pya' (leip-pfa) or his butterfly, which is supposed to wander away when he is sick, and to need catching or hunting back into his body again. In Xhosa Kaffir, pupu is the name of the hairy caterpillar, and pupa is a dream and to dream, which is significant in relation to the soul. Pabo (Eg.) is a soul; pepo, Swahili, a spirit or sprite; phepo (inner African), a ghost; popo, Esthonian; bubus, Magyar; bobaw, Limousin; bubach, Welsh, is a spirit or ghost; pefumlo, Kaffir, the soul; beba, Zulu, to inspire the soul; as in pepe (Eg.) to engender; soul and breath being synonymous. Bube is breath or wind in Galla; pefu (Xhosa) to take breath.
|Mi fofi, is I breathe, in Timbo.||Me fûisafuihe, is I breathe, in Bute.|
|Mi fofi, " " Salum.||Me pfulu, " " Mutsaya.|
|Emi fofta, " " Kano.||Mu fûtu, " " Bode.|
|Me fôtak, " " Penin.|
This brings us to the human puffer or inspirer of the breath of life, the paba (Eg.); pabo, Welsh, as the parent, the papa and baba of various languages already quoted.
The mouth as an organ of breathing is the—
|bebe, in Okuloma.||bebe, in Udso.||fôti, in Limba.|
|pfova, is to speak, in Nyombe.||pobia, is to speak, in Pangela.|
Out of Africa the mouth is—
|baba, in Malo.||baba, in Bissayan.||fafa, in Marquesas.|
|bubbah, in Sow.||bibig, in Tagala.||fafahi, in Wokan.|
|bubbah, in Suntah.||vava, in Malagasi.|
The nose, another organ of breath, is the—
|bibo, in Ebe.||pfuna, in Bulanda.||opebe, in Carib.|
|epfoa, in Gugu.||bubuna, in Dalla.||aph, in Hebrew.|
|epûla, in Matatan.|
The belly, or navel-type of breath, in inner Africa is—
|pap, Ham.||efu, Igala.||apfok, Param.|
|pobob, Pepel.||evu, Sobo.||pfumu, Musentandu.|
|pipai, Kanyop.||pfam, Balu.||pfumu, Nyombe.|
|pfuru, Mano.||fubum, Mbe.||ofofoni, Anfue.|
Fuba, the bosom in Zulu, and vovo, in Vei, for the lights or lungs, identify other of the puffers or breathers by name.
The 'bubby' or female breast is a type of swelling and dilating with life; this is named the—
|babei, in N'ki.||ebi, in Esitako.||fafa, in Timbuktu.|
|bebe, in Gogn.||pebr, in Padsade.||efie and Evie, in Sobo.|
|bebe, in Foka.||ube, in Yasgia.||fufou, in Doai.|
|bewe, in Musu.|
With several other inner African variants.
The breather or puffer as the frog is the—
|fabu, in Kano.||oafob, in Yasgua.||efol, in Filham.|
|faburu, in Salum.||mpfuie, in Bute.||obopal, in Bola.|
|faburu, in Goburu.||afodo, in Legba.|
A prominent type of the light aerial thing is the butterfly, the bebe in Fiji, and pepe in Maori, papillon in French. This in inner Africa is the—
|pepeli, in Undaza.||papatane, in Nyamban.||sibebe, in Opanda.|
|ipepe, in Vala.||napapa, in Kupa.||mafèfirin, in Nalu.|
|bifefeg, in Anan.||dopopehe, in Puka.||cbabaliho, in Anfue.|
|efafareg, in Penin.||numpapa, in Basa.||alan-bebe, in Yagba.|
|avievie, in Egbele.||fle-biba, in Ibu.||efuranfu, in Mbofon.|
|ube, in Danku.||kumpapa, in Ebe.||epfurunganga, in Orungu.|
The spider is an inner African type on account of it light suspended filmy web; this is the—
|bubi, in Basunde.||diboba, in N'gola.||libobu, in Baseke.|
|bube, in Mimboma.||libobi, in Kasands.||ebobulu, in Undaza.|
|ibebu, in Kabenda.||libuba, in Nyombe.||pfurubata, in Okam.|
Applied to light itself, or pef (Eg.) as inner African languages show—
|efifi, for day, in Akurakura.||ofofa, new moon, in Yasgua.|
|efifie, " " Abadsa.||ofe-ofefa, " " Akurakura.|
|ufo and uvo, " " Sobo.||afafion, " " Anan.|
|ipehe, " " Puka.||oyonipepe, " " Yala.|
|mpfusin, " " Bute.||nafafu, " " Baga.|
|efifi, " " Mbofia.||nofafu, " " Timne.|
Puf the light, is a chief type-name for white, as the light, in inner Africa.
|fefe, white, Dsekiri.||o fufu, white, Ife.||apowa, white, Melon.|
|afu, " Igala.||o fufu, " Ondo.||mpupa, Apup, " N'goten.|
|fufuo, " Ashanti.||ififi, ifob, " Balu.||ka-pup, " Mfut.|
|fufu, " Egba.||afufu, " N'goala.||bubu, " Ebe.|
|fufu, " Yagba.||efufu, " Param.||bubuli, " Goali.|
|o fifu, " Ota.||efujaka, " Murundo.||efifie, day, Abadsa.|
|o fufu, " Idsesa.||pfu, " Undaza.||efifi, " Aknrakura.|
|o fufu, ofu, " Dsumu.||popo, " Tiwi.||efifi, " Mbofia.|
|o fufu, " Yoruba.||epupa, " Baseke.||uvo, ovo, " Sobo.*|
|o fuju, " Oworo.||apûwa, " N'halemoe.|
(Bup-al is pipe-clay in the Ja-jow-er-ong dialect; Australia)
* To this rootage the writer would trace the Egyptian word âb, white, which is an earlier fab. Also the Bethuck, wobee; Cree, wabisca; Ojibwa, wawtishkaw; Old Algonquin, wabi; Micmac, wabeck; Sheshatapoosh, wahpou; Passamaguoddy, wapio, the type-name for white.
It is applied to the white man as
|bobo, and obabo, in Banyun.||nambabu, in Bola.||tubabo, in Kabunga.|
|za-bubulie, in Goali (Bubuli||nimbabu, in Pepel.||tibabu, in Toronka.|
|being white).||urubabu, in Padsade.||tibabu, in Dsalunka.|
|nobabo, in Kanyop.||tibabu, in Mandenga.||tibawu, in Bambara.|
In a large number of other African languages babu is reduced to obu, or some modified form. This is one of several type-words that will show us why we should go to inner Africa for the birthplace of roots, names, words, sounds, and therefore of speech. The true roots show that the duplication of the consonants was primary, and the single consonant, with the accented vowel as in pâ, is a reduced form. In Egyptian pepe, whence ppat, to fly, wears down to âp and pâ, to fly, also for the fly and beetle. But pepe or faf is primary. With the b sound instead of p we have the full form of pap, to fly, in the Leicestershire 'biblin,' for a young bird nearly fledged.
The archetype here is the breath, wind, air, or soul, which correlates with the other types of light and lightness that come under the prototypal name, and shows at the same time why the butterfly and moth are called souls, and why a man's Soul should be called his butterfly, on account of the system of homo-types and the naming of many things in accordance with the archetypal idea. The mantis, ntane, in Zulu, is literally the 'child of heaven,' i.e., as one of the winged things of the air. Ntanta in Xhosa means to float or swim.
In inner Africa the calabash is equivalent to our puff by name. It is the—
|fepe, in Manipu,||apepe, in Timne,||epfue, in Gugu,|
|pep, in Rulom,||bapa, in Okuloma,||ibiba, in Anan,|
|apepe, in Baga,|
as the round, dilating, light kind of thing. This too was a type of the soul, as well as bird and butterfly, and when the African mother begins to dilate with the forthcoming life she carries a calabash in her arms as a token of the pupa (chrysalis); or nurses one after her [p.263] child's death, as her puppet, the type of her lost little one; and this pepe, bebe, or babe, was continued by name in the round bubu-beads, nine of which were worn in the collar of Isis during gestation. The babe, pupa, and puppet, are three of the homo-types by name.*
* It was suggested at an earlier stage that the name of the butterfly might be derived from put (Eg.), the type, and ter, entire or perfect; but the writer is now convinced that butterfly is a corrupt form of boder-fly, or the French bouter, to bud or put forth, as the tree does in spring. Bud or bode is our representative of put (Eg.). Bode is a name of the beetle, as the sham-bode for the dungbeetle, and the wool-bode for the hairy caterpillar. This bode is the probable original for the boder-fly, whence the butter-fly. Bode means living, a message, an omen; boded is fated; the boder, a messenger, equivalent to putar (Eg.) to show, discover, explain, reveal. The butterfly, as a messenger of time, was a type of transformation, an image of the soul, a boder or foreboder of the future life. The boder is equivalent to beetle. In Devon the Black Beetle is called a bete. In Egypt the beetle was a type of Putah, the opener; puth meaning to open. We have the rote, as an instrument for opening, still made use of by thatchers. Also the chicken is called a beedy. The tadpole, another type of transformation, is a rode, whence the puddock or frog. The bete, rode, bode, and boder-fly, were messengers to man of a life beyond the present tadpole or chrysalis condition, hence the moths and butterflies were called souls, and the ladybird (i.e., bode) is a form of the living, foretelling, and prefiguring bode or put (Eg.).
A lowly form of the bock survives in the louse called biddy, and if one is found on clean linen it is a sure messenger of sickness or death in the family. Thus, by means of the types, we hope to get back to the mental region of the thinkers in things, and attain a foothold beyond that of the philosophizers in words. The Irish divinity called the Crone Cruack, said to signify the 'Bloody Maggot;' was probably connected with this type. Crom, i.e., crobh, is a form of the grub that transforms into the boderfly.
In Italian the pupa or puppa is the child's baby or puppet, the pup or puppy, as little one; English poppet a puppet, idol, darling. The Dutch pop is the cocoon or case of the caterpillar, and also denotes the puppet, doll, and baby.
The African languages show us the stage at which the whole of the light things and things of light could be indicated by one word or the sound of the breath expelled in a puff to accompany the ideographic gesture-signs which delineated the things or thoughts intended. The words are all correlative according to one type, and a principle previously identified with the second of Two Truths. Nor can there be any difficulty in connecting an archetypal idea of pef or fuf with its expression in sound. The human being at any stage eructated, panted, and broke wind. The wind itself as puf made the sound of puf as it puffed. But the serpent-type impinges more definitely than these, and its fu-fu-ing was perhaps more likely to evoke the consciousness of a connection between the thing and sound of puff. The serpent or snake in Toda is the pab, pavu in old Canarese. We also have the name in the puff-adder. In Wadai it is debib; in Biafada wab; in N'ki, efi; in Koro, bûa. But in inner Africa the name was generally worn down to ewa, iwa, ewe, or uwa, from fufa. The Egyptians continued it under two names. Thus the serpent bâta, the soul of the earth, is from a reduced form, like the Zulu fûta, to puff, blow, breathe venom, as the snake. But the hieroglyphic puff-adder is the cerastes snake. This was an [p.264] ideographic fuf a syllabic fu and their sole phonetic f which became the Phoenician, Greek, and English letter f.
The snake was a type of speech, and 'I speak' is 'I puff,' in the inner African.
|I fof, in Timne.||Nda pobia, in Pangela.||pfova, in Nyombe.|
|A fô, in Bulom.|
In the present instance the links are all complete from the first archetypal idea, through the various homo-types and correlates, to the final phonetic in the snake as the palpable image of the sound and visible sign of 'fufu,' or puffing; and as an expression beginning with a mere utterance of the wind and of breath ref (Eg.), puff, fuff, or fufu, we have in this one word or sound the interjection, the verb and adverb, substantive and adjective of later language, these parts of speech being really contained in the nature of phenomena and modes of manifestation. Breath or breathing anger was also represented by the great ape as one of the seven elementary types in Egypt.
We have now to make what will look like a wide digression. The mother and water have been compared under one name (momo); but the old mother, the great or grandmother, has also the same inner African type-name as darkness. She is—
|koko, Grandmother, Ebe.||koku, Grandmother, Pangela.|
|kaga, " Kanuri.||kukuyomhetu, " Songo.|
|kaka, " Kare5are.||kogwan, " Nyamban.|
|kaka, " N'godsin.||kaka, " Kandin.|
|kaka, " Doai.||kaka-woi, " Timbuktu.|
|kaka, " Basa.||kaka, " Housa.|
|kaka, " Kahenda.||kaka, " Kadzina.|
|n'kaga, " Mbamba.||okaku, " Yala.|
|kaka, " Kanyika.||kaka, " Kambali|
|kaka, " Mntsaya.||kago, " Undaza.|
|kaga, " Babuma.||n'kikula-nana, " Ekamtnlnfu.|
|kugu, " Kaaands.||n'kaka-mama, " Mimboma.|
The last but one contains a type-name (nana) which permutes in these languages with the mama. The last is equivalent to the Mama Cocha of the Peruvians, who was worshipped as the mother-sea or genetrix of the water, like Tiamat and Typhon. Very probably however the type-names of the mother as kaka and nana were both deposits from the inner African primitive 'nga-nga.' But kaka as the old first one, furnishes a type-name for no. 1, which is
|q'kui, or q'qui, in Hottentot.||quigne, in Arancanan.||atta-shek, in Tshuktshi Nos.|
|akakilenyi, in Bambarra.||kuc, or huc, in Quichua.||atta-shkk, in Eskimo.|
|kokka, in Adampi.||chassah, in Arapabo.||yoko, in Isuwu.|
|chig, in Tibetan.||chas, in Lifu.||yik, in Canton.|
|chik, in Hor.||cheus, in Hueco.||fek, in Tater.|
|kaak, in Chemmesyan.||tchika, Fenua and Galaio,||yak, in Deer.|
|gikk, in Gipsy of Norway.||New Caledonia.||yak, in Persian.|
|caca, in Tagal.||dysyk, in Kamkatkan.||yak, in Bunch.|
|meea-chchee, in Omaha.||dschyk, in Tanguhti.||yek, in Pakhya.|
|fung-kikkh, in Winnebago.||tsikai, in Mallicollo.||yks, in Fan.|
|pey-gik, in Old Algonkin.||atuu-chik, in Kuskutshewak.||yks, in Esthonian.|
|quen-chique, in Bayano.||atton-sok, in Labrador.||fuksy, in Karelian.|
|fuksi, in Olonets.||ogu, in Oloma.||ek, in Hindi.|
|yaguit, in Vilela.||guih, in Tesuque.||ek, in Darahi.|
|wakol, in Wiradurei.||chhi, in Newar.||ek, in Kuswar.|
|wakol, in Lake Macquarie.||kaki, in Sandwich Islands.||ek, in Kooch.|
|wikte, in Sekumne.||ka, in Sunwar.||ak, in Gadi.|
|ikht, in Watlala.||cha, in Tablung.||eko, in Uriya.|
|ektai, in Kirata.||ogy, in Ostiak.||ak, in Kashmir.|
|akt, in Lap.||egy, in Magyar.||ek, in Singhalese.|
|akhad, in Arabic.||ikko, in Gonga.||ek, in Shina.|
|keddy, in Begharmi.||ikka, in Kaflir.||ik, in Tirhai.|
|akket, in Khari.||eko, in Ashanti.||eka, in Sanskrit.|
|kadu, in Pwo.||gô, in Timbo.||yo, in Western Pushtu.|
|keta, in Buduma.||gô, in Goburo.||aoh, in Celtic.|
|gudio, in Doai.||gôo, in Kano.||owe, in Caribisi.|
|kede, in Bagrimi.||eôko, in Murundo.||ai (first), in Siamese.|
|kado, in Afudu.||ako, in Abor.||i, in Arniya.|
|kudem, in Legba.||eking, in Tayung.||i, in Kashkari.|
|kudum, in Kaure.||ek, in Kurbat.||i, in Lughman.|
|kudom, in Kiamba.||ek, in Duman.||i, in Pashai.|
|ogba, in Egbele.|
The I one; the A I, the ego and ich, are deposits from an original kak, ka-ka, or nga-aiga, no initial vowel being a primary in very ancient language. Also as the numbers one and five both meet in the hand, it follows that the number 5 will be found to range under a type-name of number 1. Thus number 5 is—
|kakkhoo, in Mandan Indian.||gag-em, in Inbazk.||cuig, in Scotch.|
|chichhocat, in Crow.||geiqyan, in Assan.||queig, in Manx.|
|huck, in Yangaro,||hkagae, in Kamacintzi.||wuku, in Gyami.|
|chak, in Joboka.||kega, in Kot.||huka, in Gonga.|
|chahgkie, in Creek.||cuig, in Irish.||huka, in Kaffa.|
In English to be left-handed is to be keck-handed, gauk-handed, or gawk-handed. This is the French gauche, for the left. And in the inner African languages the left, inner, or female hand is—
|koko, in Bidsogo.||kekai, in Mutsaya.||ngeya, in Landoro.|
|an-koko, in Wun.||eke, in Babuma.||lekaka, in Orungu.|
|ekaka, in Undaza.||yekui, in Soso.||yonko kake, in Limba.|
|kekai, in Ntere.|
Now that which was first in phenomena became the negative to that which was second, or following, in the naming. Darkness was the first, and it is the negation of Light. Water was first, and it is negative in relation to breath. The left hand was first reckoned on, and it is the negative hand. The mother was first, and she becomes secondary to the male. The hinder-part was first, as place of birth applied to the female and to the north, which is negative to the south, as front.
The earliest races like the Kamilaroi tribes of Australia, are the 'noes,' because they date from the female first. Coca means 'no' in the language of the Tapuya tribe of Brazil, and their name of the Coca-Tapuya signifies the no-people, or those who date from the mother, the water, the negation, the darkness which they came out of, just as enti (Eg.) for primal existence means 'out of.'
Thus the mama, mumu, or momo name was applied to negative or inarticulate speech; to mumming, to silence, and the dead; mum, English, to be silent or to make indistinct sounds instead of speaking; mamelen, to mutter; mamata, Zulu, to just move the mouth or lips. Omumo, Tahitian, to murmur; mueô, Greek, to initiate into the mysteries; momo, Tahitian, to be silent; mem, Quichua, to be mute; mumu, Vei, to be deaf and dumb; imamu, Mpongwe, to be dumb. The mum in Egyptian is the dead, the mummy, the negative image of life, and the mam, or mamsie (a Scotch tumulus), was the burial-place of the mum, the silent dead.*
* 'Mum'. There is a drink called mum, or mum-beer, in England; a non-spirituous liquor. This sense of spiritless is also found in the German memme, for a coward.
This shows how that which was primary in time became subsidiary, secondary, or negative in status. Further it has to be seen how darkness was the first devourer, adversary, opponent, recognised, typified as the akhakh, or nakak monster. Kak (Eg.), gig (Akkadian) is darkness, the shadow of the night, a name of the Black One, and inner Africa is the primeval home of the kakodaemon who, as Kakios, was the stealer of the cows which he had dragged into his cave, when Hercules forced his way into the monster's den and, in spite of the flames and smoke which Kakios vomited, overcame him and rescued the cattle and recovered the rest of the stolen treasures.
The akhakh monster is the devil of darkness typified, and—
|gigilen, is the devil, in Dsarawa.||kukia, is the devil, in Kasm.|
|kogiwu, " Gurma.||igue, " Isoama.|
|kekuru, " Guresa.||gwigwiou, " Doai.|
Another form of the devourer is the alligator (or crocodile). This is the—
|egugu, in Ondo.||agiyi, in Isiele.||nyakok, in Kiriman.|
|agogu, in Egbira-Hima.||akúi, in Mboila.||akako, hippopotamus in Aku—|
and other dialects.
The scorpion, another type, is the—
|kak, in Mfut.||ngeo, in Baseke.||nkúe, in Bagba.|
|akeke, in Yoruba.||nakale, in Ebe.||ngekoa, in Landoro.|
|gigaya, in Krebo, etc.|
|khai-khai, is to darken, in Namaqua.||gije, is night, in Osmanli.|
|okuku, is night, in Aku.||kaak, " Kenay.|
|kigi, " Timbuktu.||kwaiehk, " Kowelitsk.|
|okiki, " Abadsa.||kaehe, " Jakon.|
|uchochilo, " Makua.||coucoui, " Blackfoot.|
|kak, " Egyptian.||oche, " Crow Indian.|
|ukhakh, " Egyptian.||weechawa, " Catawba.|
|agi, " Koro.||gaú, " Basque.|
|gig, " Akkadian.|
[p.267] Night and black are likewise synonymous, and
|kugbeto, is black in Legba.||kakola, is black poison (Coculus indicus), Sanskrit.*|
|kegbado, " Kiamba.||cacis, is black current, in French.|
|kugbadyo, " Kaure.||caoch, is blind, void, empty, in Gaelic.|
|gwigwe, " Ibewe.||uchukula, is to fear, in Makua.|
|koko, black monkey, in Kisama.||chouk, " Walach.|
|kaka, black hole of the underworld, in Fijian.||houge, is to feel horror and shrink from the|
|cockmun, is black fish, in Victoria (Aust.).||darkness, in English.|
|chuch, is black ant, in Harari.||cocgio, is to delude and trick, Cymric.|
|akakha, is black, in Maya.||kake, is to steal, in Vei.|
|nikuku, is the crow, Makua.||kike, is to sleep, in Vei.|
|kak, " Toda.||ukhakh, is to watch, in Egyptian.|
|kaka, " Sanskrit.||gacha, is a watch/sentinel, in Languedoc.|
|waugh, is the raven or crow, Yarra (Aust.).||a-kucha, is morning, in Ude.|
|*Also one of the hells.|
These are all related to the night and darkness.
This name for darkness, the shadow and blackness, is also applied to coal as the inner African type-name for the black thing.
|geki, is coal, in Papiah.||kakue, is coal, in Wun.||igoigo, is smoke, in Bini.|
|kikemu, " Bayon.||kokatera, " Koro.||egoigo, " Ihewe.|
The same radical supplies the name for the gigim (Akkadian) the night fiends, and for the giant as the gigas. Another form of the typhonian monster in Africa is the moving desert sand. This comes under the same type-name, it is—
|gagei and gagiwag, in N'godsin.||kigen, in Bode.||nyieke, in Mahi.|
|kekulu, in Kono.||nyeke, in Hwida.||cooach, in Victoria, Aust.|
|chicana, or dsikana, in Nupe.||nyeke, in Dahome.|
Various other co-types of the inimical and opposing condition or thing might be adduced under the one word, as—
|cac, evil, Irish.||kahaki, to carry off by stealth, Maori.|
|kakos, vile, bad, Greek.||gaga, poisonous, Fijian.|
|koki, a wicked man, Manchu Tartar.||keke, disease, Fijian.|
|gygu, grim-looking, Welsh.||kacchu, itch, scab, Sanskrit.|
|chukia, to abhor, Swahili.||chakawi, ringworm, Hindu.|
|chakha-chokhi, discord, Hindu.||ququ, stench, foetor, Zulu.|
|chukki, fraud, deceit, Hindu.||caci, to starve, Quichua.|
|cog, and gag, to lie, English.||ghyuch, death, Turkish.|
|cacaphone, a bad, false, discordant note, French.|
All that is inimical, bad, dark, opposite or appalling in phenomena may be found under this name. Hence that which is bitter is—
|gaga, Fijian.||khako, Tibetan.||gakha, Bodo.|
|khika, East Nepal.||khakha, Dhimal.||haikia, Finnish.|
Now, the first teacher of the adult was terror, and the earliest pupil was fear. This teacher became Kak (Eg.) the god of darkness, born of the dark and named from it; the black fetish, known to various languages by this name. Kuku or Ocucu is the Black Spirit of many African tribes. This was Ukko, the Finnic god of fire and darkness, whose voice is the thunder. Fire or lightning is kako in Kaffa; caigha, Namaqua Hottentot; koko, Legba; chek, Uraon; chaki, Paioconeca; kakk, Maya and many more. Chaka, the 'fire-brand' was the name of Cetchwayo's uncle. Uchacha, [p.268] in Makua, is savage, fierce, furious. The Finns call a thunderstorm an ukko or ukkonen, just as the inner Africans called it a kaka or kak-kak by imitating the sound with a very guttural voice. The noise of cracking is represented in the Galla language by gakak, the c standing for a click of the tongue, and cakak djeda to say kak is to crack; kek (Eg.), khakha, Ude, to break.
Heigh-heigh is a sound of astonishment made with protruded lips by the negroes on the west coast of Africa, when it thunders. Kakulo, Zulu, signifies greatly, hugely monstrous.
In the Maori ngaeke denotes the sound of cracking, splitting, and rending, which applies to thunder. And in Quichua the lightning spark is ccachachacha; whilst ccacniy is thunder, and a ccaccaccahay is a thunderstorm. The Thunderer was personified by the Sioux as the giant, Haokah. Haa-Ilaka-nana-Ia, was a Polynesian form of the giant or thunderer. And as Kak, or Ukko, the black god of darkness, the Thunderer, the vast voice in heaven (which was also represented by the chachal or jackal) is one of the seven elementary powers that were typified and brought on as gods, there would be nothing improbable in suggesting that the earliest formulation of the onomatopoetic kak kak or kaka may have been in imitation of the voice of darkness (kak) and lightning, the thunder. There are various kak-ers and acts, or modes of kaking or kâ-ing, but thunder was loudest and most impressive, and this was one of the seven types that were divinised as children of the most ancient genetrix.
The dark was the great first obstruction and visible form of negation. The serpent of darkness coiled and contracted round, restrained, hindered, imprisoned, constricted and throttled, and—
|cuch, is a contraction, in Welsh.||cagg, or gag, is to bind, in English.|
|chhuko, to grasp, in Vayu.||gaga, prisoners, in Fiji.|
|cuig, a circle, round, in Irish.||gak, is a prison, in Amoy.|
|chug, a ring, in Arabic.||kakoi, to enclose, shut in, bind round, in Japanese.|
|khakh, a collar, in Egyptian.||kuku, is to hold, constrain, in Fiji.|
|coko, is to tie, fasten round, in Fiji.||kek, is negation, no, not, in English Gipsy.|
|cacht, is a straight, narrow, confined place, in Irish.||kek, is boundary, in Eskimo.|
|chhek, is to Constrict, tie a slipknot, in Amoy.||kakhya, an enclosure, Sanskrit.|
Kak as the darkness and the devourer is that which obstructs and stops or chokes, and—
|cegio, is to choke, in Welsh.||ciko, is a woman's word for a stopper, in Zulu.|
|choke, is to put a stop to in English.||choc, is movement brought to an abrupt stop, in French.|
|xaxa, is to obstruct, in Xhosa.||coccare, is to move with a click of concussion, in Italian.|
xaxe, is an obstruction, that which checks
This sound of concussion is represented by khekh (Eg.) to repulse, return (as in sound), Welsh cicio, to kick. Gike and chick in English, are to click, crack, or creak. It is the noise of striking, as was the voice of thunder. That which is struck khekh's back again. Choc in [p.269] French, chock in Scotch, and kakka, Norse, for striking together, denote the check, shock, or khekh of concussion, the voice of the blow. Whaka-Kiki (Maori) to make kiki, is to incite, instigate, urge on as is done with the click and whip, the Egyptian khi-khi; in which the sound names its producer as the whip.
The acts of chuckling, giggling, kicking (or other mode of contact) are self-named by this word or sound. The monkey and the rabbit strike the earth with the foot and produce a kick-sound. With the rabbit this is a signal that is understood, and constitutes a call to come out. It is used both in courting and as a challenge to fight. Sheep also stamp on the ground furiously when a fight is going on, and the kick and khekh-sound are synonymous. Here the khekh reaches back to the gesture-language of animals.
The West Indian negroes make a rattle with seeds placed in a dried bladder. This is called a chock-chock. So the inner African natural rattle, the calabash, is named the—
|koko, in Akua.||gukonje, in Banyun.||uko, in Bini.|
|kika, in Marawi.||kagudu, in Bidsogo.||kiki, is a gourd, in Egyptian.|
|kekanda, in Bola.||yika, in Kiamba.|
This is the koku, in Bribri, Costa Rica.
There are various self-named kak-ers.
Captain Burton, speaking of the African dialects, has remarked that 'The childish form of human language delights in imitative words, as koklo, a cackles or fowl.' Because they have retained the primitive childishness.
The cock, or cackler, undoubtedly named itself in Africa. It is the—
|okoko, in Abadsa.||kugei, in Buduma.||akukoro, in Base.|
|okokoko, in Mbofia.||akiko, in ldsesa.||akika, in Anan.|
|okokulo, in Opanda.||akuko, in Yoruba.||ekuok, in Yasgua.|
|okokura, in Igu.||akiko, in Yagba.||kogurot, in Bulanda.|
|koko, in Kra.||akiko, in Eki.||kokunini, in Ashanti.|
|kokulosu, in Adampe.||akiko, in Dsomu.||kokorok, in Penin.|
|kokulotsu, in Anfue.||akiko, in Oworo.||nkek, in Pati.|
|kokuleru, in Hwida.||akiko, in Dsebu.||kikowa, in N'goala.|
|kokulozu, in Dahume.||akiko, in Ife.||nuan-kog, in Mbofon.|
|kokulo-su, in Mahi.||akiko, in Ondo.||ndum-kog, in Eafen.|
|kokoro, in Egbira-Hima.||akeko, in Dsekiri.|
This is also the name of the hen, as—
|ogok, in Bola.||kckuro, in Gurma.||kugui, in Kanuri.|
|ugok, in Sarar.||okoko, in Isnama.||n'kok, in Ekamtulufu.|
|ogoka, in Pepel.||okoko, in Isiele.||n'kog, in Udom.|
|ugog, in Kanyop.||okoko, in Abadsa.||n'kog, in Mbofon.|
|kokulo, in Adampe.||okuko, in Aro.||n'kog, in Eafen.|
|kokulo, in Anfue.||okoko, in Mbofia.||kuku, in Xhosa.|
|kokulo, in Hwida.||okoko, in Bini.||n'kuku, in Marawi.|
|kokuro, in Dahome.||okoko, in Ihewe.||koku, in Nyamban.|
|kokulo, in Mahi.||kaguiou, in Buduma.||kugala, in Mandara.|
Koki, in Maori, is to 'Sing early in the morning,' as did the cackler. This applies to both cock and hen, but the likelihood is that the [p.270] hen was named first, or rather imitated first, because her clucking announced that she had laid the egg. Hence the egg has the same name; this is—
|koko, in Basque.||kuko, in Magyar.||goggy, in Craven, Yorks.|
|coco, in Old French.||kek, in Tablung Naga.||gagkelein, in Bavarian.|
|cucco, in Italian.|
The egg has the same name as the fowl in inner Africa, but chiefly in words more reduced.
|n'keke, in Bidsogo.||eke, in Ihewe.||agoci, in N'godsin.|
|n'kege, in Wun.||akua, in Isoama.||gôai, in Doai.|
|koga, in Koro.||akua, in Abadsa.||eko, in Orungu.|
|ege, in Afudu.||akua, in Aro.||eki, in N'goten.|
|ege, in Igala.||ikôho, in Sobo.||eki, in Melon.|
|ekua, in Isiele.||agie, in Igu.||aki, in N'halmoe—|
|ekua, in Mbofia.|
and various other abraded forms. Here it is obvious the cry was repeated as the name for the egg, or goggy, because the idea of food would be a primary. Kaka (Eg.) means to eat and masticate. The gege, in Zulu, is a devourer, a greedy-guts.
The 'xoxo,' or 'koko,' in Xhosa Kaffir is a large frog or toad. The name expresses the croaking of the frog or frogs. 'I xoxa' is a confused, general, or frog-like conversation. Quack is the language of the duck.
|kao-kao, of the goose, Chinese.||akoka, to crow, Ibo.|
|kak, the goose of Seb, Egyptian.||kuku, " Zulu,|
|kaka, to cackle, Egyptian.||ku-kuk, " Malay.|
|keke, to quack, Maori.||kokoratz, to cluck as a hen, Basque.|
|gagkezeu, to cough, cluck like a hen, Bavarian.||kokot, clucking of a hen, Servian.|
|kuk-ko, to crow, Fin.||kakulla, to cackle, Turkish.|
|kukuta, " Sanskrit.||κακκκάζείν, " Greek.|
|koklo, to crow, Yoruba.||kakaloti, to chatter, Lithuanic.|
|kukku-vach, a deer, Sanskrit.|
A radical like this kaka keeps its primitive status in later language, and tells of its lowly origin in various ways.
Cach is a primitive form of utterance in provincial English, as is kakaista, to vomit or evacuate, in Finnic; kika, Zulu, a discharge; utterance being manifold.
The Maori have a chorus in which they imitate the 'akh-akh' or 'kak-kak' of the carpenter at work. The Egyptian, kak-akk; Coptic, kex.kex; xosa, ceketa, mean to work as a carpenter.
Akak (Eg.) is the axe or adze—the first form of which is the thunder-axe.
Ako-ako, Maori, is the voice of splitting open.
Chacha in the Aino dialect is to saw; chhak, Chinese, to work with a chisel.
The Australian aborigines have a sort of old women's chorus or friendly salutation consisting of a 'kaw-kaw-kak-kah-kaw.' This is consecrated to those who are the 'kakas,' or old women, as grandmothers, in the inner African languages.
Kiuka, Australian, is to laugh.
Kaka-kaka is to keep on laughing loud, Dayak.
Gigiteka, to giggle, Galla.
Gig-iteka, to shake with laughter, Xhosa.
Gig, giggle, and giglet are forms of the same onomatopoetic original.
Akhekh, in Egyptian, signifies to articulate, and the earliest articulation was expressed by this name.
Chacambi, in Manchu, is to talk in such an obscure way as not to be understood.
Gigken, in Bavarian, and kûj in Sanskrit, mean to make inarticulate sounds.
Gag, in English and other languages, denotes inarticulate noises made in trying to speak. To utter or gabble is—
|gagei, in Breton.||ekuoku, to speak, Abadsa.|
|gigagen. to bray as an ass, Swedish.||ekuoku, " Mbofia.|
|gagach, stuttering, Gaelic.||chich, voice of grief, lamentation, Irish.|
|gaggen, incoherent speech, indistinct||kokuo, wail and cry, Greek.|
|articulation, Swiss.||keke, be beside oneself with grief, Maori.|
|kagh, voice of mourning, Persian.||kakkaset, stutter and stammer, Lap.|
|gaggyn, to strain by the throat in guttural utterance[46a].||kak, loud lamentation, Hindustani.|
|koggalema, stutter, Esthonian.||kukli, howl and cry, Lithuanic.|
|kikna, gasp or choke, Swedish.||gagga, to mock, Icelandic.|
|chichila, voice of boiling water according to certain||goic, scoff and taunt, Irish.|
|Buddhist mysteries.||geck, derision, English.|
|keku, speech, Maori.||kekas, abuse, Greek.|
|kaka, to say, Akkadian.||k'ok, to cough, Chinese.|
|kiko, oratory and eloquence, Xhosa.||keiche, " German.|
|kuoku, to speak, Isiele.||khekk, to clear the throat, Amoy.|
|ekuke, " Aro.|
Now, if the ape-man could not chuckle or giggle he was compelled to cough, i.e., khekh, and so produce this prototypal sound in the involuntary stage. Moreover, we find the cough was included with the sneeze as a sign of spirit-presence. This may be seen in Sir Thomas Browne's version of the story about the king of Monomotapa, in Vulgar Errors. The cough is still employed like the 'hemp' to call attention without using words. 'I coughed to call his attention,' said a coastguard in a recent law case. The name of the cough is identical with that of the gullet, which is
|khekh, Egyptian.||ceg, throat, Welsh.||goggle, to swallow, English.|
|koki, throat, Maori.||geagl, (whence gullet), English.|
This is inner African, where
|n'kog, is the gullet, Bola.||okokuturi, the gullet, Egbele.||khekh, the gullet, Egyptian.|
|guegue, " Ashanti.||ekogwe, " Igu.||uge, " Dsebu.|
|gegolwe, " Bulanda.||n'gogulo, " Ksnuri.||kogbe, the throat, Koro.|
|ekoka, " Adampe.||n'gaguldo, " Ranem.||kokore, " Mose.|
|ugogo, " Ondo.||okouro, " Okam.||okam, the mouth, Aku.|
|kokorawo, " Mese.|
The cough itself is inner African under this name, as the
|kuoka, in Yala.||kokuara, in Aro.||kuekuei, in Param.|
|kuko, in Igala.||akukuara, in Mbofia.||kokule, in Kra—|
|kokuara, in Isiele.||gegesla, in Dosi.|
with the worn-down forms, wuko, (Aku dialects), uko, kui and others.
The cough issued from the throat, and has the same name. It was the spontaneous utterance of obstruction, constriction, and choking. Here we find a natural genesis for the sound that, was produced involuntarily, but which is continued in language as the type-word for all forms of obstruction or repulsion and their involuntary voice.
In accordance with kaka being the type-name for that which was first as darkness, or the old mother (koka, in Maori; caca, Japanese), and for the number 1 we may look on this as a primordial word.
The language of 'kak,' so to speak—for the time was when a very few sounds constituted the sum-total of human utterance—is yet extant in the guttural ka-ka-ing of the Australians at the southern side of the world, and at the other in the 'ugh,' or 'ugga' of the north; the caca of the English nursery; Finnic, ââkka; French, coca; Manchu, kaka; English, gag. 'Kaka' might be still further followed.
Kâkâ (Eg.) is to eat, masticate, swallow, or devour (English, chew-chew); and kak denotes the devourer in various forms and languages. Egede describes a Greenland woman as expressing her sense of supreme pleasure by drawing in a very long breath of air and ending at the bottom of her throat with a great guttural smack of satisfaction (compare the Egyptian smakhakh, to rejoice), as the primitive click, or 'kak' of gustative delight. This action and sound correspond to the Quichua ccochuy for pleasure, and the interjection of pleasure called 'ha-chach-allay;' the Maori koa-koa, to be joyful, and the Gipps Land koki, a sound (smack) of pleasure.
The language of 'kaka' includes the kiss; Sanskrit, kuch; Gothic, kukian; German, küssen, English, kiss. The kiss utters the sound of contact; the click or cluck of the cupola.
|cache, to go, English.||feka, to strike home, Zulu.|
|kuug, to go together, Chinese.||kuc, to connect, mix, go, sound, Sanskrit.|
|kokku, copulation, Tamul.||cic, movement in concert, Welsh.|
|kika, " Zulu.||kiss, concussion with sound, English.|
It is noticeable that pkhkha (Eg.), to stretch and divide, has the sign for determinative, which supplies the khetan, Etruscan, Umbrian, and other forms of the or letter k. The hieroglyphic shows the sign of breaking in two, which the k or kk conveys in sound to the car. Thus the visible action becomes audible, and the word pkhkh or fekh (Eg.), to break open—which may apply to various modes—is the vach or voice of the self-naming action. With this we might compare the stories told of Kak or Ukko, the Thunderer, and his mode of khak-ing.*
* Thunder in Finnic is also called jymj; jym, zyranian; jom, mordvin; juma, tsherimis. This is jum in English for knocking; and jumme is futuere. The voice of thunder was a supreme expression of power.
Nga is the earlier form of ka, and nga-nga of ka-ka. Thus the [p.273] click and crack is ngaeke in Maori, and the 'ka-ka' of the Australian natives is also 'nga-nga.' With both, 'nga' denotes fetching breath. In Gipps Land 'nga-anga' is breath, and to breathe nga-a-a-a-a-h, with the h strongly aspirated, is a cry of the Australian aborigines, used to arrest attention. 'Ng-ng-ng-ng' is a sort of prolonged grunting, expressive of satisfaction and pleasure. Possibly the goddess Vach would have to be consulted in her mystical oracalum for the most primitive human phase of the kk, ûk or k-sound, which became lingual in nga-nga and kaka.
In the kk, or click, whether sounded with a nasal utterance or not, we find another radical by which some human action first named itself in making the involuntary sound, whether in eating, coughing, or the click of copula or contact; another utterance of an act of nature, like the 'tut-tut' of sucking; or the 'fuf-fuf' of blowing with the breath, and the 'tishu-tishu' of sneezing.
R was called the 'dog's letter' (litera canina) by the Romans, and is referred to as such by the Elizabethan dramatists. The dog makes the sound or r-r-r-r when snarling and showing its teeth, or open mouth. Ari, Fin, hirrio, Latin, is to snarl like a dog. Herr, hyrr, Welsh, is to incite a dog in its own language. In the hieroglyphics the mouth ¨ is the ru or lu sign, and in the inner African languages the mouth, tongue, and throat are named from this radical in the duplicative stage. For example,
|luru, the throat, Legba.||ololo, the gullet, Isoama.||tarolo, the gullet, Babuma.|
|leor, " Dselana.||lilon, " Bayou.||ularu, " Mandara.|
|ulolo, " Basa.||lelon, " Momenya.||ule, " Mandara.|
The ululant type of words found in Irish, Latin, and Greek, the Polynesian lololoa; Zulu, halala; Dakota, hi-le-li-lah; alielu, lullaby, and many others may here be recognized.
The tongue also is named,
|liliwi, in Ekamtulnfu.||lilim, in Mutsaya.||orlala, in Ukuafi.|
|leliwi, in Udom.||lilime, in Muntu.||rale, or ale, in Igu & Opanda.|
|lil, or ile, in Isoama, Isiele,||lirume, in Marawi.||halla, in Fazogla.|
|Abadsa, Aro, Mbofia.||lelimi, in Undaza.||lilla, in Acaah.|
|lelim, in Babuma.||irale, in Egbira-Himi.||lilla, in Adampe.|
In Sanskrit lal means playing with the tongue, to loll it, move hither and thither, to dart it forth amorously, fiercely or savagely.
Llaana is the tongue; lalantika, a lizard, or chameleon; lelayamana, one of the seven tongues of fire; lalat is the dog. Lill, in English, is to loll out the tongue which is called a lolliker. Rara, in Maori, is to make a continual sound, to roar; riro is the intensive form. Riri denotes anger, to be angry, hence to roar. Rorea is the rearing roaring bore, or high tide. Ruru is to shake and quake. Ru is the earthquake.
|lila, to lament and mourn, Xhosa.||lalo, to lull asleep, Ude.|
|lloliaw, prattle to a child, Cymric.||lellen, to tattle, Dutch.|
|lalle, babble to a child, Danish.||lalein, to speak, German.|
[p.274] Rire, in French, is the laugh, or to laugh; and this is inner African, as
|rere, laugh, Gbese.||reri, laugh, Yagba.||lela, laugh, N'gola.|
|reri, " Aku.||lori, " Eki.||elela, " Lubalo.|
|reri, " Egba.||rari, " Dsumu.||lela, " Songo.|
|reli, " Yoruba.||reri, " Ife.|
Many kinds of utterance are called by variants of one name, which, in this case, is extended even to writing in the Assyrian rilu. Earlier than the verb forms were the names of the organ as tongue and gullet in Africa. Also to 'tongues' in gesture-language was prior to verbal speech.
Protruding and lolling out the tongue is employed as a universal sign of repulsion, contempt, or hatred. Dr. Tylor says it is not clear why this should be so. But it is simply a case of reversion to an earlier type of expression. Signs were made with the tongue in gesture-language before the time of verbal speech. The tongue was used according to the feeling which sought expression by that member. The Australian expresses 'no' by throwing back the head, and thrusting out the tongue. Negation is one form of repelling, and the earliest mode of repulsing is reverted to as most repellent and effective. That which served to typify when there were no other means of expression still serves as symbol for that which transcends all verbal expression, and when the choke of feeling is too strong for words, the tendency is to take to gesture-language and enact it whether by thrusting out the tongue, the foot, or the fist.
The loud-crier, the roarer, the rapacious beast is a 'ruru' in Sanskrit. The dog also is a ruru; and this is a name of one of the seven Rishis, who correspond to the seven taas (Eg.), seven tongues of speech, seven notes in music, seven vowels, and therefore seven primitive sounds, out of which the vowels were finally evolved. The Sanskrit ril is to roar, howl, bellow, yelp, bray, shriek, shout, wail. Roruya, to howl or roar very much, and roroti to yell and roar and bellow loudly, are intensive forms of what is considered the root. But the intensive was primary at an earlier stage; the earliest words being made by duplication of the same sound. This is shown by ru, as in the Latin rû-mour, which indicates full value to be rrû (rr), as it is in the hieroglyphics.
The dog is one of the animals that utter the 'rer-rer,' which deposited the letter r in language. But a far more potent claimant for the r or 'rur' sound is the hippopotamus. This is named 'rur,' or, with the feminine terminal, rurit. Rur is written ¨¨, or double-mouth. The horizon is likewise the rut-u, or dual mouth. The female was a rut-u, or double mouth, as the lioness-goddess Pehti, one of the roarers. If we apply this to the roar of the hippopotamus, she is the double-mouth of sound. Raro, in Maori, is the north, the mouth of the abyss, and rurit typified that mouth (or [p.275] uterus) as goddess of the north, the roarer who came up from the waters. She is usually portrayed with the tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her name of Tep is also that of the tongue, and she is designated the 'Living Word,' because she was the first utterer-forth in heaven above and the abyss beneath. And the roar she made with her vast mouth reverberated for ever through all the realms of human speech. The dog (or jackal) was her son, and he too rurs out her special letter, the phonetic r, the mystical Sanskrit lri, which, according to Monier-Williams, is one of those things that 'have apparently no signification.' But, if they had not, we may be sure they would not have been so faithfully preserved.
The Maoris attribute the gift of language to the Old Mother, Wha-Ruri, or Whu-Ruruhi, whose name denotes the old woman that revealed or disclosed; and her name also corresponds to that of rud(t), or urt, in Egypt; lri, in India, and rî (Ishtar) in Akkad, the Old First Mother of all things, including language.
The sounds of 'kak-kak,' 'fuf-fuf,' 'tut-tut,' 'rum-rum,' 'tshu-tshu,' 'nen-nen,' were rudimentary gutturals, aspirates, linguals, dentals, palatals, and nasals, from the first, produced by the gullet, lips, tongue, teeth, and nose; and these 'parts of speech' would be first distinguished by the organ of utterance. This is shown by gesture-language, when the tongue is touched as a sign of taste or distaste, and the nose as the sign of smell. The organs can be more or less identified with their especial sounds. There are seven, as the gullet (gutturals), tongue (linguals), palate (palatals), teeth (dentals), lips (labials), nose (nasals), and breath (aspirates), the names of which were self-conferred by the nature of their action. Thus the throat was the kak-er; the nose, smeller; the mouth, puffer; the tongue, taster, from the first, and the gesture is the visible link between the organ and the name of the particular sound which it produced. The tooth has the same name in English that language, utterance, tongue, the utterer, have in the Egyptian tut.
The various members of the human body extant as hieroglyphic signs are so many illustrations of gesture-language which show us how the primitive man drew on and from himself. The human body supplied the following syllabics and phonetics to the Egyptian signs:
|api or a, the head.||ka, two arms uplifted.|
|at and ankh, the ear.||ka, a knee-cap.|
|ar and an, the eye.||kaf, fa, or a, the single arm.|
|bah, the phallus||mat or m, phallus.|
|ba, the soul of breath.||ma, an eye.|
|bu, the leg.||nen or n, a pair of arms held down.|
|her or h, the human face.||ru, the mouth.|
|hem or h, the mons veneris.||tebu, a finger.|
|hu, the tooth-sign of the adult.||tet or t, female breast.|
|hu, the tongue.||tat, phallus.|
|hat, the heart, abode of life.||tut, a hand.|
|kha, vagina sign.|
In the hieroglyphics the nostrils are named sherui. Sher is to breathe, and to breathe is synonymous with joy and to rejoice (sheri). Sher-sher, or breathe-breathe, is the plural for joys. Fû (fut) signifies dilation and dilatation; fu being ardour; fua, life. These are likewise related to the breath. Fu is especially indicative of a bad smell, of ordure and impurity (futi), which therefore may be held to account for one type-name of the nose. This, in Africa, is—
|efu, in Yasgua.||epofa, in Gugu.||pfuna,in Bulanda.|
|pua, in Swahili.||ebua, in Puka.||puno, in Kiriman.|
|aifoa, in Esitako.||ipula, in Meto.||puno, in Marawi.|
|eboa, in Musu.||bibo, in Ebe.|
Out of Africa the Nose is named—
|pahoo, in Mandan.||fuiya, in Chanta.||evi, in Sapiboconi.|
|pau, in Osage.||puiya, in Kaikha.||pi, in Mandarin.|
|pah-hah, in Winnebago.||phiya, in Kamas.||pi, in Canton.|
|pah, in Omaha.||puiyea, in Tawgi.||pi-chi, in Cape York.|
|apah, in Minetari.||puiyea, in Yurak.||pé-chi, in Massied.|
|peh, in Tsherkess.|
The tongue is the hieroglyphic symbol of taste. But it is equally the organ of distaste, and in Sanskrit, 'thut' which corresponds to tut (Eg.) for the tongue, means to spit; and the word represents the sound made in spitting. Tutua, in Tahitian, also signifies to spit. Spitting or thut-ing is an involuntary mode of expression that was continued from the prehuman stage, as an intended utterance. Spitting is a universal mode of expressing disgust, repulsion, and repugnance. Leichhardt describes the native Australians as interrupting their speeches by spitting and uttering a pooh-poohing sort of noise, apparently denoting disgust. With the Malays of Malacca the of disgust 'answers to spitting from the mouth.' Spitting expression as a Greek sign of aversion and contempt, and to spit was to condemn. In Lincolnshire the people believe in a ghost or sprite known as the 'Spittal Hill Tut!' The Muzunga exclaims 'tuh-tuh,' and spits with disgust on the ground. Tuh, like tut, in Egyptian, signifies to tell; it also denotes an evil or bad kind of speech; and spitting was a mode of telling, their disgust. Tutu and tuh-tuh are in the duplicative stage. In tuf (Eg.) to spit, the Galla tufa, English tuff, Chilian tuventun, to make tuv, or to spit, the tut is worn down and recombined with another consonant. The English exclamation of disgust used for repudiating or rebuking, as 'tut-tut,' answers to the spitting of the less civilized, and it retranslates the act into that verbal sound which was first derived from the act tut, or thut, to spit, then, is a most primitive mode of utterance; the lowly status of which is reflected in later language under the same type-word as tad, English, excrement; tutae, Maori, dung. In vulgar English a more excrementitious exclamation takes the [p.277] place of 'tut,' [i.e., 'shit!']. The lowly status of tut (Eg.) for speech or utterance is continued in—
|titi, to stammer, Egyptian.||totte, to whisper, English.|
|teet, and tatel, to stammer, English.||toot, to whine and cry, English.|
|totario, to stammer, Portuguese.||teet, the least little word or sound, English.|
|tottern, to stammer, German.||titter, suppressed laughter, English.|
|tot, to mutter, murmur, or whisper, Norse.|
Tetea, in Maori, is to strike the teeth. Tatu, to strike home, reach bottom. Dudu, Assyrian, and tata, Egyptian, are to go rapidly, as the tongue may be moved in making the sound of 'tut-tut-tut.' Tata in Zulu expresses the impatience of desire.
Impatience is also expressed in nursery language by the 'tut-tut' of the tongue producing a click.*
* One of the most curious relations to language as tut (Eg.) is illustrated by the daemon Tutivillus who is supposed to collect all the words that are indistinctly uttered by the priests in the performance of religious services. These abortions of speech he carries off to Hell, which is also the tut by name in Egyptian.
The element of negation finally expressed in one form by the letter n, may have originated in repelling a nasty smell by inhalation with the nasal sound and expulsion with the guttural which formed the primate nka, that deposited an n or k. The n is a nun in the hieroglyphics and nin in Hebrew. These represent an African type-name for the nose itself, which is—
|nini, in Okuloma.||nnui, in Eafeu.|
|nuhutu, in Bushman.||nine, in Udso.|
This is the name of the nose in the Lap and Finnic languages, as—
|njuone, in Lap.||ninna, in Esthonian.||nena, in Karelian.|
|nyena, in Fin.||nena, in Vod.||nena, in Olonets—|
and also occurs as
unan, in Willamet.
Water, however, is a type of negation, and the first of the 'Two Truths,' corresponding to the mother and night; nun (Eg.) is the primordial water, also the inundation; and in Chinese non means the sound of water among stones, signifying anger. Here the nun, or nnu, our no, is the voice of water; and running water (J) is the ideograph of negation, of no and not. An Esthonian legend tells how language was derived from the sounds uttered by the boiling and bubbling of water.
These primitive radicals or aboriginal sounds are in the ideographic stage which preceded the syllabic and phonetic phases, and which alone reaches the point where the bridge has to be built that will connect the earliest imitation and utterance of sounds with formulated words.
If some seven such can be identified and are found to be universal they will give an intelligible account of the origin of language in the [p.278] primordial onomatopoeia. The 'kak-kak' is still continued in the click stage of sounds as well as in the cough by the vulgar with occult significance; the fufu-ing or fuffiing with the breath, in snake-like inflation and figure of repulsion, survives in the various modes of pu-pu-ing or pooh-poohing, including the action whereby the feeling is uttered or evacuated in spitting out the sound. When a child is called the 'spit of his father,' it is in the language of evacuation. Spit is a name for spawn.
The rer-ring; arre-arre-ing, hullilooing still exists in the frequentative 'ara-arai' of the Maori, or the 'arree-arree' of the Pelew Islanders; Ethiopic 'j-jur-hur;' the Norse, 'hurrar;' Hebrew, 'allelujah;' Red Indian, 'ha-fe-lu;' Tibetan, 'alala;' inner African, 'lulliloo;' Coptic, 'heloli;' Irish, 'haoroa,' English, 'hey-loly,' and 'hurrah.'
The 'mum-mum,' although not among the earliest sounds as a labial may have been as a nasal; this was continued as a mystery in mum-ming. The nasal of negation has become the universal no, na, nen, or none; and the name of the ninny.
Like the primitive customs and weapons, the totemic and mythical types, words and sounds show the same survival of the past in the present, and add their evidence for unity of origin and the truth of the doctrine of development.
Articulate utterance in man was preceded by the semi-articulate, and non-articulate; by clicks and puffs; guttural and nasal sounds; by mere audible and visible signs, all of which were pre-verbal. Yet such sounds must have been definite enough to express definite ideas before words existed, because they continue to do so after language is perfected. And when later language fails to utter the passion we still revert to our primitives of expression. The full heart that silently overflows in tears; the sigh of love; the moan of misery; the snarl that lifts the lip all aquiver to show the canine tooth; the laugh of delight, the click of the wanton,* are more eloquent and make a profounder appeal even than verbal utterance.
* Compare khygge, or caige, Scotch, to wax wanton.
These are as intensely concentrative in act as language is widely expansive in words. The impatient one has recourse to his 'tut-tut,' for 'don't tell me,' and the nurse to her 'tut-tut,' for 'so nice,' by which she makes the child's mouth water. One 'pahs,' and another 'pooh-poohs,' with disgust; the vulgar thrust out the tongue or tell you something or other is not to be sneezed at; the he at the street corner hems, or makes his guttural click to the she who passes by; or the savage within breaks out still more ignobly and nature is hurled back on a return tide of reversion to the manners of the remotest past.**
** Sign-language still survives amongst us in gestures that correspond to the nature of primitive sounds, as in 'geasoning,' which has persisted from the time when pubescence was synonymous with being open and unprohibited. In one form to geason is to just open the lips and show the teeth. This may be with the feeling of anger, scorn, derision, provocation, bantering, or attracting. It is a mode of inciting, from whatever motives. The Gaelic geason also signifies to charm, allure, and enchant. This shows the aim (guess) of the gesture (or gest) that disclosed the mouthful of teeth in which the African women file their opening; the 'gatteeth' in England. Geasoning, or gestening, once indicated lodging and entertainment for the guest who was thus invited. Geasoning was also continued in the dance—the chesa in Kisawahili, khez, Persian, a sort of can-can, and a primitive form of feminine geasoning. In Egyptian kes-kes is to dance, incline towards, entreat in an abject or degrading manner—as it came to be considered. The geasoning dance also survived to a late period in England, as is shown by the old tune 'Dargison.' This, according to the name, was intended to provoke desire. Geasoning is yet continued by our 'noble barbarians' in the 'full dress' of the female that advertises the prominent or padded mammae, which are not always intended for the natural use as they were with the ignoble barbarians. The female still 'comes out' to show that she is 'open' and free to geason. Indeed, it looks as though the fashion in feminine dress was one never-ceasing wriggle to get back without going back to the most primitive phases of natural geasoning.
These [p.279] show the predecessor and the creator of verbal language in the position of being still independent of words, as he was before they were fashioned.
We find that there is a stage even in verbal language, in which doing and saying are one, and both are expressed by the same sound or word. Following this clue to the end or rather to the beginning, we see that certain natural actions include both the act and sound, the later verb and noun in one; the involuntary sound being spontaneously produced in and with or by the action, and this sound it is suggested was repeated voluntarily and duplicated to form the earliest vocal sign preceding words—repetition being the primary mode of consciously employing sounds which had been involuntarily evolved in the natural act, to become the recognized voice of each special sensation and finally of ideas.
Man had no need to derive the sounds of sneezing (tsh), coughing, or clicking in eating and swallowing (gustative kak-kak-kâ-kâ (Eg.) to chew and masticate) or the click of personal contact; of panting or puffing with the breath (fufu), of sucking or spitting (tut) from external nature by consciously imitating the animals, as these sounds were uttered in the acts in however rudimentary a manner, to be evolved into voice, and perfected by intentional and continual repetition. Such sounds would be consciously repeated for use as an accompaniment to the gesture-signs, until the primary elements of language, the mere voice of evacuation, could be applied to the things of external nature, which uttered similar sounds, as their names, such as 'kak-kak,' for the thunder; 'fuff-fuff' for the wind, breath, soul, or snake; 'rur-rur,' the roarer; only seven of which are required for language in general.
Primitive onomatopoeia would consist in the conscious reproduction of sounds native to man, rather than in imitation of sounds external to [p.280] himself; and these involuntary and interjectional sounds are universal; they still preserve their primitive nature or status. Also the duplicated sounds remain to the end as from the first. We can no more wrench language out of the mould of the beginnings than we can jump off our own shadow whilst standing in the sun.
Words founded on the mere repetition and duplication of a sound constitute a common universal property in mimetic expression. But these are by no means an inorganic substratum of language. The moment that a sound was consciously repeated to produce the word 'fufu' or 'kaka,' etc., it partook of an organic nature and was separated from chaos for ever.
The nursery words of our race today are survivals from the infancy of speech. In them the onomatopoeia of the commencement persists, however limited or overlaid by the growths and accretions of later language. They took too long a time, and cost too prolonged an effort to get evolved, for them ever to be let go again or altogether lost. They have not suffered change by reduction into roots for re-genesis in later words. They are like the oldest order of fish, which did not become reptilia themselves, and yet were the progenitors of reptiles that finally attained wings.
None but the evolutionist can have any approximate idea of the slow processes by which the amazing phenomenon, language, must have wormed its way to the surface from the ungaugeable depth of the past; or of the long procession of series and sequence up to the present time.
It seems to me that we only reach the beginnings where we see that it could not have been otherwise, and where the initial phase would be as practicable, on the same visible grounds, if we could begin again today, as it was in the remotest bygone age.
The solution of the problem demands that it should be explained by conditions which are still present, and universal as the human race. The origins now presented conform to these conditions; and the interjectional sounds yet extant as the involuntary voice of natural acts can be cited as living witnesses.
The theory here propounded is that the primary elements of language originated in the involuntary utterance of natural sounds; when the utterance was the mere voice (vach) of evacuation and sensation. That these sounds were continued by the dawning consciousness now known as human and repeated as signs of want and warning, desire and satisfaction, fear and anger, pain and pleasure, their current value being recognised by force of repetition, accompanied, as they were, by determinative gesture signs; that the first words were coined by repetition of a sound; that the sound-stuff of all speech existed in the embryonic tch (dzh or other variants) of the sneeze; the fufu of puffing out the breath; the hiss; the nasal negative; the tut-tut of sucking; the click of contact; the [p.281] kak-kak of eating, and rur-rur of the roarers; that we do not reach back to an original 'root' of language short of a word the earliest form of which could be sounded by a click, a puff of breath, a sneeze, etc.; which word could be coined today (as ever) by reduplication of the first natural sound or its modern equivalent.
Thus primitive language is considered to have been evolved by a series of self-naming acts and involuntary sounds; and may be described as the earliest mode of consciously puffing, kakking, no-no-ing, rum-rum-ing, tut-tut-ing, tshu-tshu-ing, mam-mam-ing by means of aboriginal sounds belonging to the primordial onomatopoeia.
The second phase of sounds and of conscious duplication to produce the earliest words is yet traceable by means of the negro, Maori, and other prehistoric languages. In Chinese the oldest sounds of ang and ong were ngang and ngong, as they are in the Australian and African dialects.
In Egyptian mâ-mâ, to bear, as the mother, implies, the form of mam-mam; and pâ-pâ, to produce (as the mother), implies a prior paf paf which becomes pâ-pâ, which becomes pepe, to engender, as the male, and passes into pâ and bâ for the father. The process of development is made visible in the hieroglyphics. For example, from puf to blow, the blowers were named, first by direct representation of the sound, and afterwards by the reduction and combination of the sound. Puff being reduced to the syllable pu, the article tu (Eg.) for the is prefixed and the word tupu is formed. Tupu (Eg.) means to breathe and blow, and it is the name of the buffalo and others of the blowers. But the original puffer remains in the name of the buffalo, and the bufo. The letter v that turns into u, illustrates the process by which pf was modified into pû. When the reduced puf is combined with the sign or letter t, as a suffix, the result is the word (with variants) put, fut, or but, the type-name in Egyptian, Chinese, Akkadian, English, Sanskrit, and many other languages, for that which opens, duplicates and becomes 'both.' Thus puth (Eg.) is to open the mouth; the Hebrew puth or opening also applied to the female genitals. The mouth is opened by the breath, pef in Egyptian; puff in English. The opening of the mouth divides into duality.
The male likewise is opened, to enter his second phase at the time of puberty; and papoi in Coptic denotes duplication. He becomes the papa (pepe, Eg., to engender) the pubescent male. 'Papa' reduced and reconstructed with the t terminal passes into the word pat; Sanskrit, pati,* the husband; Greek, phator, the engenderer; Australian, pyte and bait, the father; Malay, bum, the virile one; Irish, bud, the virile member; English, fude, the man; Egyptian, bat, the father.
* Pati. The Sanskritists would render pati as the strong. But that is in the abstract and vague stage of the word. The original meaning is male potency, or pudency. The root pâi, an earlier ppa in Egyptian, denotes the masculine species, article or member. The pat, or bat, is simply the progenitor, as the inspirer of the ba (breath or soul), with the bahu. So the male as 'sesmu' (Eg.) is the breather of the mother. Also paini, for the mistress, is the property and possession, the one 'belonging to,' as the Egyptian 'patni.'
The second and dual stage is denoted by the t being a plural sign which in the hieroglyphics is the hand or a female breast, one of two in either case; and therefore a duplicative type that figures duality to the eye instead of representing it to the ear, as was done in the stage of papa and mama. It appears to me that this process might be applied until the later words in general were traced back to the primary duplicated sounds.
The results of this reduction and recombination may be formulated or illustrated thus: fuff-fuff—fufu—fu—f—fut; kak-kak—kaka—ka—k—kat; mum-mum—muma—mu—m—mut. Na-na or neh-neh—na—nnat; rur-rur—ruru—ru—r—rut. The vowel sounds together with the prefixes and suffixes of course may vary indefinitely. The syllabics fu, ka, mu, nu, ru, and lastly the phonetics f, k, m, n, r, become the bases for many future combinations of letter sounds in the morphology of later words.
The hieroglyphics show the visible sign of duplication in the act of superseding that of audible repetition in such words as—
|mama, or mat, mother.||seb-seb, or sebti, encase or enclose.|
|papa, or bat, father.||khi-khi, or khet, to go.|
|peh-peh, or pehti, the double force.||mum, or mut, the dead.|
|pep, or pat, to fly.|
Here, then, to recur to our image of evolution, the primitive fish that wriggled blindly as a simple sandworm, took to its legs as a reptile and walked off along the ways of manifold transformation, until it became a winged word; winged, bird-like, for unfollowable flight—that is, unfollowable here—although it seems to me that all words might be followed from their natural genesis. For just as the interjections survive, so do the original words formed by duplication of the same sound still exist after the reduction and reapplication in later forms. Thus shash, no. 6, becomes shat in Sanskrit; pap, or fap, in Old Chinese becomes fât in Cantonese. So kale precedes kât (from kakt) just as pat (Eg.) comes from ppat and both from papa in Egyptian; so that papa and father, bat (Eg.), are identical at root.
The number four is fut in Egyptian; fudu in Bode, Hausa, and other African languages; but it is
|piffat, in Guehe (Port Dory).||effat, in Malagasi.||mpat, in Sasak.||pabits, in Vengen.|
Fûdu was originally ffdu, from fuf; and the double consonant explains why pip-ing is number four in Cayus; pev-ar in Breton; and [p.283] why fob-ble in English means quadruple. In these the duplicative phase of sound has survived. So
|meme, is the mouth, in Mandara.||mimiae, is the tongue in New Hebrides.|
|mombo, " Murundo.||mamalo, " Papuan.|
|mamadthun, " Bethuck.||mamana, " Tasmanian.|
|mne, is the tongue, in Grebo.|
|mut, is the mouth, in Egyptian.||mits, is the tongue, in Andi.|
|mot, is the tongue, in Tshetsh.||mot, is the word, in French.|
|motte, " Ingush.||mut (Eg.), is formed from mumu, as mû|
|mets, " Dido.||with the feminine terminal.|
|moats, " Tshari.|
The inner African mfu for the dog or typical beast is represented by mâf-t, the lynx or other beast, also the skin in Egyptian. Mfu becomes mâu and the terminal t is added. Thus in inner Africa the cat is named
|muti, in Gurma.||medsa-ku, in Dsuku.||omati, in Yasgua.|
In this form it passed into Europe as muti, Fin., a cover of reindeer skin, a hairy shoe or glove; mudda, Lap, (Norse, muda), a cloak of reindeer skin; mutau, Gaelic, a muff, a thick glove of skin; miton, French, the cat, as well as the fur-skin; mudel Bavarian, the cat, cat-skin or fur. But the word muff or muffet survives in the stage of mfu and maft (Eg.), a kind of anklet worn by the Egyptians. Also the inner African mftu or mpu remained the dog's name in the Vogul emp and Ostiac amp.
Such words then as mama, pu-fu, papa, kaka, ruru, tutu, and the rest of these primordial duplicates did not pass away because the reduced mâ, pâ, kâ, rû, and tû were recombined as roots in the Aryan stage, and it is a blabbing folly to talk of the sterility of these radicals, which were formed in the duplicative phase of sounds, after all language has been developed from them.
Also the original duplicate is continued in the pp, the tt, the rr, the khkh, the nn, of the hieroglyphics; the double ff double ll, and double dd of the Welsh, and the lri of the Sanskrit signs. Furthermore the duality once signified by repetition of the sound, was also continued to the eye in the figures of certain letters which represent the duplicated sounds. The letter b is a double p, it is a figure of two in Coptic, Hebrew, Pahlavi, and other languages, and this continues the duplicate ff or pp. The t is double in the hieroglyphic ¥ in the hand and the female breast. This duality is figured in the cross Θ, tau, or ┬ which is equivalent to tta, i.e., theta in Greek, and by the t being a plural terminal. It is the same with the χ or k. This was the principle of our letter formation, visible in the v and y, and continued even in the double-looped f and the twy-formed L, s, or z. The principle is carried out to the dotting of the i, which is [p.284] dual in the hieroglyphics as êê; where the u is inherent in the I, and Iu signifies the dual or Twin One; also to come and go.
The written a is an IO united in one letter, and with the 0 itself duality attains unity at last in the primordial figure originally imaged by the ru ¨ of the beginning, the nought in one sense but the true alpha and omega, the sign of the genetrix, who was the mouth that emaned the word at first.
Thus the letter still remains an ideograph of that duality which was previously expressed by the duplication of the sound. This is the final answer to the Aryanists who start with 'pa,' 'ma,' and 'ta' as the roots of language and consider duplication the later stage. For us, duplication was first in language, and is final in the dual forms of letters, howsoever it may be at the starting point in Sanskrit.
The clicking kaf or cynocephalus of inner Africa preceded the clicking Kaffir,* Hottentot, and Bushman. On the monuments this animal images speech, the word, the voice, as a type of Taht-Aan in the lunar mythos, and Shu the god of breath in the stellar phase; also Hapi, who represents the breathing quarter in the East, as one of four of the seven elementaries.
* 'Kaffir.' Captain Burton has questioned my derivation of the 'Kaffir' name from 'kaf,' and called my attention to the Arabic kâfir. Mr. Theal also says the Kaffirs cannot even pronounce the name because the sound of r is wanting in their language. But this is not merely a question of r or l. I had previously tested my conclusion and rejected the Arabic kâfir; words do not begin where we first meet with them, and the Arabic káfir for the infidel is not a primary meaning of the word. Not even in Arabic. The early Arabian etymologists knew the word had only acquired that meaning through Islamism, and that it had the prior signification of the coverer, or darkness. Old poets call night the kâfir, because it covers with darkness, and is the black. The physical complexion was first, and this is applied from that of the black man. So in the resurrection, according to the Koran, the Kâfirs are to come out of the earth all black in the face. The accented a indicates an earlier consonant, and points to the root kak, which means black in Egyptian and other languages. So much for the Arabic. On turning to the African languages we find that kaf is the black ape (Egyptian); akafi, the black man (compare cuffey, the nigger), Bambara; ckhip, the black rhinoceros, Namaqua; kabilo, the black man, Bidsogo; ogabu, the black man, Kamuka; gbei, black, Dewoi; gberi, black, Gbe; gbalwi, black, Salum; kupirira, black, Muntu; guafthi, night, Boko. There is no chance whatever of these having derived their type-name for the black from the Arabic kâfir. Dr. Koelle says the Phula people call the Hams Kaffiri[59a]; and language shows that 'ham' and 'kaf' are identical at root. If man and speech began with the black race, language will be sure to show it, without man having first or directly dubbed himself the black. In Bambarra akafi is the negro, and the word for beginning is kafulo. Black is synonymous with first as kak, whence kâ and kaf later âf, âp, and âu. Further, in the Natal Zulu, the name for sorcery, charms, or enchantment, is kafulo. So, in the Xhosa Kaffir, Isi kafulo denotes a charm or sorcery, black magic. This is the far likelier original of the Mohammedan kâfir applied to the sorcerers with the r instead of the l terminal. The inner African ka for the black remains, and from this I derived the name of the Kaffirs and of the Au-ruti (Af-ruti or Kaf-ruti) who went down into the valley of the Nile.
'To symbolise speech,' says Horapollo 'the Egyptians depict a [p.285] tongue and a hand beneath.' These in the later stage were made human. The first hand and tongue was the kaf-monkey, whose name is yet followable through universal language as the type-name for both tongue and hand. This has been shown by the names of the hand. Tongue and mouth are synonymous, and these take their names from the kaf-type, or have the same name, as—
|gab, the mouth, English.||egbe, the mouth, Puka.||kababon, the tongue, N'ki.|
|gob, a beak, Gaelic.||oyaf, " Bishari.||fivha, " Sanskrit.|
|geba, the mouth, Slavonic.||aof, " Adaiel.||fivha, " Pali.|
|kiffe, the jaw, Plain Dutch.||af, " Faslaha.||fivha, " Konch.|
|kapiour, the mouth, Guebé.||af, " Arkiko.||fhibh, " Siraiki.|
|chabui, " Tshampa.||af, " Amharic.||fibho, " Uriya.|
|zuba, " Pushtu.||afa, " Danakil.||fubh, " Gujarati.|
|zuvar, " Tshuash.||affan, " Galla.||fibh, " Hindustan.|
|yubotarri, " Accaway.||aboa, " Basque.||fib, " Mahratta.|
|yefiri, " Pianogliotto.||gbe, the throat, Mano.||cubhas, a word, Irish.|
|yip, " Korean.||gefe, the throat, Oloma.||chava, to say, Hebrew.|
|hube, " Talatui.||gefe, and gullet, Oloma.||qabah, " Assyrian.|
|ap, " Palaik.||ggbe, " Opanda.||chwed, " Welsh.|
|egbe, " Gugu.||ogbe, " Egbira-Hima.||cedeach, " Irish.|
The kaf was continued in Britain as a type of this primitive talker, chatterer, or clicker among animals in such words as chaff to chirp and chatter; caffle, to cavil; chafty, talkative; chavish, confused chattering of birds; chaffinch, the cheeper or chatterer, opposed to the singer; gaffle, gabble, gobble, gabber, gibber, gibe, or kibe. Chaf modifies into jaw and caw—the jackdaw being a caw-daw. To caw is to cry or call as daws, rooks, and jays. Gaowe is to jaw or chide.
From kaf, later gab, the mouth, the utterer, came the names of jaw and jole or chowl, earlier chavel. In Low Dutch kiffe is the jaw, and keffen means to yelp. In the Walloon chawer is to cheep and chaweter is to chatter. Thus the status of the earliest type of language is still preserved, and the kaf name continued in the cheep-cheep of the finch, the caw-caw of the chuff, the gibbering of the monkey, the gobble-gobble of the turkey, the wide-mouthed bay of old chowler, the gabble of the foolish, the gibe of the face-maker, who still imitates the ape and makes his jape (compare Swedish gipa, to wry the mouth and make a grimace); which still testify in their status to the lowly beginning with the kaf (ape) as a primordial speaker. Also, the ape in the monuments is not only a personification of 'hand conversation,' and of speech, he is also the bard, the singer of the gods. Evidently the singing ape had not escaped the attention of the Kamites. Moreover, the kaf as singer is earlier than the speaker as Taht-Aan, the tongue, mouth or speech of the gods. Kâ is to sing, as well as to say, and the singer as the first proclaimer is in keeping with the order of the facts suggested by Darwin. The ape was brought on as the singer, poet, hailer or howler of the gods whom it salutes with up-raised hands because it hailed the new moon and howled in the darkness at the absence of its light. Darwin inferred [p.286] that the nearer progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones before they had acquired the power of articulate speech. It is historically certain that tones were most important if not absolutely primary in language. This is shown by the mere vowel-change which is sufficient to distinguish the two sexes.
The Hottentot has three tones that give three meanings to one word, according to the intonation. Captain Burton points out that the Yoruban languages, like the Chinese, depend on accents and tone-variations to differentiate the meanings of the same words. These 'delicacies of intonation are inherent in monosyllabic tongues.' They are inherent in the most primitive pronunciation, and the Chinese show one form of an elaborate system. The gibbon's scale contains the system that was established in music. It preceded, and may therefore be claimed as the originator of that which was perfected by man. Lower than the ape as the evolver of the octave and admirer of the moon, the follower of the ape could not have begun in music. And here is the connecting link in tone-language, which language was afterwards used as a vehicle of words whether in the inner African tones, or in the Chinese tonic system, or in modem music. The number of tones in the musical scale is seven, the eighth being a repetition of the first. These had been rudely rendered by the ape. Seven may be accepted as the total number of primary sounds in the alphabet. All the remainder were evolved from these. The number of forces, powers, gods, produced by the mother nature, is seven. The Egyptians have the seven Taas called 'gods of the word' or 'speech;' seven personified forms of utterance.
Brugsch has attributed the meaning of sage to the word taas (or djas), which is analogous to the Coptic jas or gis, and the Chinese tee for the teacher. The Taas are thus the seven sages. In the memoria technica of the Hindu sages, the sage, or vowel, stands for number 7, there being seven sages and seven vowels.
The seven sages also appear in Greece. These, then, are related to the vowel that takes seven forms of utterance. The utterance of the seven vowels was one of the mysteries in Egypt as in India. Savary, in his Letters, says that in the Temple of Abydos the priest repeated the seven vowels in the form of hymns, and that musicians were not allowed to enter the building during the performance. Like the gibbon they were practising their scales, but not in tones only. The tones conveyed the seven forms of breathed utterance, the latest product of language, known to us as the seven vowels. The seven vowels were known and are acknowledged to be a sevenfold form of a dual one which was the Iu (Eg.) or Ao of the beginning, and the o, or omega, in the end; the au (Eg.) that signified was, is, and to be.
When personified this Biune One with the triune character became the god of the seven spirits, which were seven breaths, and these made up the ten-total as in the ten sephiroth of the Kabbalah and the ten letters of the British IAU. Iao-Sabaoth was a form of this combination of the threefold one with the sevenfold manifestation.
Sevekh (Eg.), whose name reads number 7, was another divinity of the same type. Sut-Nub-ti was likewise a form of this compound nature. Nub signifies the all, that is the plural expressed by three; and Sut (Seb-ti) is number 7.
Sut-Nub was continued by the Gnostics, and his name of Iu or Iao, was kabbalistically expressed, and probably sung to scale by the seven forms of the same vowel, as aehiouw , which are found on the rays of the lion's crown of an Agathodaemon or Chnuphis serpent.
Nef (or nub) signifies the breath or spirit, and this was the Good Spirit with seven rays or emanations, which represented the seven spirits whose physical origin has yet to be traced. These seven agree with other forms of the type brought on from the beginnings of the Kamite typology. Spirits were breaths at first, and the vowels are breaths. Thus the seven forms of breathen utterance, the seven vowels, represent the seven spirits of the triune nature.
The chant of the seven vowels was apparently practised by the natives of the Friendly Isles, who intone a solemn dirge at the funeral of their chiefs. So ancient is it as to be no longer intelligible, but its refrain consists of a wail expressed by a series of vowels rendered by Lang as OIAOOE.
The North American Indians heard by Adair were probably calling on the name of the triune Iao, which was more fully expressed by the seven vowels.
Amongst their funeral rites and ceremonies the Todas perform a circular dance, in which the men by three and three perambulate round and round like spokes in a wheel, all exclaiming 'AU!' 'AU!!' in time with their steps. This likewise presents a form of the divine triad.
Hymns were addressed to a god, 'Who,' by the Hindus, and called the 'Whoish' hymns. This mystical name is resolved by Max Muller into a mere interrogative pronoun. But there is nothing more certain or more pathetic than that God was sought for under this name of 'Who,' the unknown.
The Abipones expressed the name of some deity by their interrogation 'who?'
The Hebrew name of the very one god Alhu, הלא, is a form of the who, the interrogative pronoun; the who (הלא, as unknown subject) of the Kabbalah. This is the Egyptian deity, Hhu, or Huh, whose [p.288] name signifies to seek and search after, or, as we have it, to woo. One mode of seeking and inquiry was by singing the name with seven vowel-sounds. These the translators of the Hebrew scriptures have contrived to make permanent in the name of IEHOVAH.
This compound deity, as Iao-Sabaoth, was finally the god of the seven planets. Each of these was represented by a vowel and each vowel dedicated to one particular day of the week. So, in the seven notes of the scale, and the orbit lines of the planets—
|Si was assigned to the||Moon|
|Ut " "||Mercury|
|Re " "||Venus|
|Mi " "||Sun|
|Fa " "||Mars|
|Sol " "||Jupiter|
|La " "||Saturn—|
in making the music of the spheres.
The seven vowels, to take them as they are printed by Bunsen A E Ê I O Ô U, though not a perfect form, were all contained potentially in the A I U, which in Egyptian and Coptic resolve into Iu, Ei, or an I with the u inherent. Iu signifies to come and go, but it also denotes duality, to be twin or two. The Arabic and Syriac alif is likewise figured double. The hieroglyphic calf, which became the Phoenician and Hebrew aleph, the steer, was a dual image, because a calf is of either sex. The Hebrew yod י, or i, is a hand that has the numeral value of 10. The one vowel, therefore, whether represented by A, I, or U, was a diphthong that bifurcated and became sevenfold in the vowel sounds.
Now the hand as kaf or kab signifies to be double and to duplicate, as does the calf in its two sexes. The ka visibly modifies into da, and the fu (or bu) into u, and thus kaf became kim and au for cow and calf; and Au or Iu are the dual source of the seven vowels. Moreover, the nose of the calf is the ideograph of breath, and the Egyptian deity is portrayed as the calf-headed Au, or the Iau, from whose name we derive the seven vowels, and from which the Hebrew Kabbalists derived their ten sephiroth and ten vowels, and the British their ten primordial letters. Finally, then, the a, as representative of the sounds that were the last evolved in language, is now for ever first as the letter-sign of the one that duplicated (who was the mother), whilst the letter b (with the leg-sign; Ñ) remains the sign of the duplicated one, the child of either sex, which, as male, triplicated at puberty.
The a is a kind of Io in our written letter, but in the A it is triadic, as is the Hebrew aleph, א and the triad of IAU, was symbolized by this one letter. A story told in the Arabic Gospel of the Infancy, connects the child-Christ, when he was about twelve years of age, with the letter aleph. There was a teacher of boys [p.289] at Jerusalem named Zacchaeus, to whom the child was sent for the purpose of learning his letters. The master wrote out the alphabet, and bade the boy say 'Aleph,' and when he had done so, the master ordered him to say 'Beth.' Whereupon the child demanded to know the nature and meaning of the aleph first. The master could not tell him, therefore the child made known to him the gnosis of the letter alpha, and the rest of the alphabet. In the Gospel of Thomas the child says, 'Hear me, doctor; understand the first letter.' And He points out that the one letter is 'threefold and doubly mingling,' and thus is a figure of the trinity in bi-unity, as expounded by the Kabbalah. The child, no doubt, expounded His own nature as the mythical IU who, as the child, was the Iusu (or Jesus), Iu-em-hept in Egypt, the son of Iu-su-as, and the god Tum.
The Jew's harp remains a symbol of the divinity whose name it bears. It is one as a total figure; dual as the Io of the male and female, or of the number 10; and triadic in its shape, which answers to the trinity of Iao. The correct way of playing this instrument is by producing various vowel sounds, and it is a fact that its tongue can be made to utter the seven variations of the vowel, according as the player consciously shapes his mouth, without the aid of the human voice. Thus breath is turned into seven sounds by the tongue of the Iao, as it was in playing the flute, which has the name of sebti (y) or Sut; and also in blowing the sevenfold pipe of Pan. It is no marvel, then, that the Jew's harp should retain the name of the Iu, Io, Iao, or Jah, the god of the Jews.
The typical prayer uttered in the seven vowel sounds may have been the model of the Prayer on the Mount, in which the sum of all seeking and request is supposed to be divinely expressed by an invocation comprising seven petitions in one prayer.
The Egyptian chant of the seven vowels of the ineffable name, which might be breathen or intoned, although it must not be spoken as a word, was the probable origin of the Sevenfold Litany, or Litania Septemplex associated with the name of Pope Gregory the Great. In the year 590, when Rome was afflicted with pestilence, Gregory ordered a public supplication to God, and the people were commanded to assemble at daybreak in seven different companies, arranged according to their ages, sexes and stations, and walk in seven different processions reciting the Sevenfold Litany and other forms of prayer intoned. They carried with them, by express command of Gregory, an image of the Virgin, the latest form of the Lady enthroned on the Seven Hills, who had been the mother of the seven when these were but seven elementaries in chaos.
The typical seven were further continued by the medieval Church in its Matins, Prime, Tierce, Text, Nones, Vespers, and Complines, as [p.290] the seven times for daily praise. These seven canonical hours, however, had been devoted by decree of Pope Urban II to singing the praise of the Virgin Mother, who was the original author and inspirer of breath.
The Gnostic Marcus held that seven elements composed, and seven powers expressed, the 'Word,' which could be uttered, in an 'O!'
Lastly, the Coptic w or Ō summed up the power of the seven vowels, and represented the value of no. 8 in hundreds. Here the ogdoad was complete in the O as a final vowel sound, and a sign of the god who was worshipped as the O in the Mysteries; the O or A O of the Greek iconography.
Thus we have the ape in the beginning evolving his scale of seven tones. The ape, or kaf, is the hieroglyphic type of speech, singing, worship, and breath; Shu, the kaf-headed, being a god of breath. This god of breath, as Nef, is the Agathodaemon or Chnuphis, the IAO who has the seven-vowelled name which was intoned by the priests of Abydos when they employed the seven breathed sounds or vowels in their worship of the god of breath. And in the end the Sevenfold Litany was treasured up amongst the relics of the past in the religious ritual of Rome.
The black kaf ape, preceded the black Kaffir (or Akafi) as clicker and master of a scale of sounds. The living clickers prove that the breath was inhaled to articulate the sound. This shows the one act of a dual nature, which was represented by a dual sound; the air being indrawn with a nasal noise and expelled in a guttural click. The double action and dual sound contain the negative and affirmative, the no and yes, the Two Truths or one and two of all beginning. Represented by the sound 'nkakh,' or 'nga,' the duality becomes audible in a word that signified duplication as the name for the twin-member, the ear, hand, testis, eye, nose, or mouth, in the oldest languages. These languages also show the priority of words that were formed of merely duplicated sounds as the basis of speech. The Egyptian hieroglyphics exhibit the process by which the mimetic duplicates of sound were reduced for recombination with others to form words from two different consonants, and thus extend their range indefinitely. The hieroglyphics likewise show the process whereby the ideographic signs and gestures that accompanied sounds in the ideographic phase were divided and reduced to the letter-values, and thus account for that equivalence and interchange which are found in all later language.
The clickers inhaled the air to articulate their sounds, and the utterers of the seven-vowelled chant exhaled their soul or breath toward heaven, the height being scaled and the summit of religious aspiration very literally attained by the ascent of the seven vowels, [p.291] and the breathed utterance of the letters composing the ineffable name that was noted on the planetary orbit-lines of the celestial scale.
Thus the seven vowels were consciously evolved, discreted, and deposited from seven consonants, in which the vowels had been inherent in the syllabic form; the syllabus being a previous deposit from words firmed by repetition of the same sound in the ideographic stage of expression; these words having been created by the conscious utterance and duplication of natural and involuntary sounds.
The alphabet is still reducible to some seven original types, and this seven corresponds to all the other typical sevens: the seven tongues of fire; seven Taas, or gods of the Word; seven Rishis; seven notes in music; seven elements; seven senses; seven sciences; seven elementary powers or spirits; the seven stars of the Greater and Lesser Bears; the seven planets, and seven days of the week.
As the result of the foregoing research, my conclusion on the whole matter is, that the origin of language resolves itself into the production of some seven primary sounds in an early phase of articulation, and that the fundamental facts are registered in language and typology where they have been stereotyped by man with no more choice in the matter than the mirror has in its faithful reflection of forms, except in the conscious care with which he repeated and tried to preserve the primeval tradition in ever-living memory.
This page last updated: 02/05/2014