The evolution of general ideas

by Th. Ribot

ANALYTICAL GESTURES.

The question of signs is so closely allied to our subject—the evolution of general ideas—that we must insist upon the language of gesture as an instrument of analysis, before going on to speech—of which it is an imperfect substitute.

St. George Mivart (Lessons from Nature) gives the following as a complete classification of every species of sign, omitting those that are written:

1. Sounds which are neither articulate nor rational, such as cries of pain, or the murmur of a mother to her infant.

2. Sounds which are articulate but not rational, such as the talk of parrots, or of certain idiots, who will repeat, without comprehending, every phrase they hear.

3. Sounds which are rational but not articulate, such as the inarticulate ejaculations by which we sometimes express assent to or dissent from given propositions.

4. Sounds which are both rational and articulate, constituting true “speech.”

5. Gestures which do not answer to rational conceptions, but are merely the manifestations of emotions and feelings.

6. Gestures which do answer to rational conceptions, and are therefore “external” but not “oral” manifestations of the verbum mentale.

This last group, the only one which concerns us for the moment, would to my thinking be conveniently designated by the term analytic gestures, as opposed to the synthetic gestures which manifest the different modes of affective life, and constitute what is called the expression of the emotions.

This language of gesture, intellectual and non-emotional, which translates ideas, not sentiments, is more widely distributed than is generally known, among primitive peoples. It has been observed in very distinct regions of our globe; among the aborigines of North and South America, the Bushmen, etc. It is a means of communication between tribes who do not speak the same language; often, indeed, it is an indispensable auxiliary to these indigent idioms. The most important work on this subject is by an American, Col. Mallery, who with indefatigable patience has collected and interpreted the gestures in use among the Indians of North America.[36] This work alone reveals the variety of sign-language, which hardly ever leaves the region of practical life: description of the countries traversed, hints for travellers, directions to be followed, distances, time required for halts, manner, habits, and dispositions of tribes. We may cite a brief quotation, from another author:

“Meeting an Indian, I wish to ask him if he saw six waggons drawn by horned cattle, with three Mexican and three American teamsters, and a man mounted on horseback. I make these signs: I point ‘you,’ then to his eyes, meaning ‘see’; then hold up all my fingers on the right hand and the forefinger on the left, meaning ‘six’; then I make two circles by bringing the ends of my thumbs and forefingers together, and, holding my two hands out, move my wrists in such a way as to indicate waggon-wheels revolving, meaning ‘waggons’; then, by making an upward motion with each hand from both sides of my head, I indicate ‘horns,’ signifying horned cattle; then by first holding up three fingers, and then by placing my extended right hand below my lower lip and moving it downward, stopping it mid way down the chest, I indicate ‘beard,’ meaning Mexican; and with three fingers again, and passing my right hand from left to right in front of my forehead, I indicate ‘white brow’ or ‘pale face.’ I then hold up my forefinger, meaning one man, and by placing the forefinger of my left hand between the fore and second finger of my right hand, representing a man astride of a horse, and by moving my hands up and down, give the motion of a horse galloping with a man on his back. I in this way ask the Indian, ‘You see six waggons, horned cattle, three Mexicans, three Americans, one man on horseback?’... The time required to make these signs would be about the same as if you asked the question verbally.”[37]

Tylor says that the language of gestures is substantially the same all the world over, and this assertion is confirmed by all who have practised and studied it. Its syntax resembles that of deaf-mutes, and it is unnecessary to repeat it. The parable of the Prodigal Son was translated by Mallery into analytic gestures; and from this language translated afresh into the spoken tongue: “Formerly, man one, sons two,” etc., etc. The comparison of the two texts is instructive: in the one, the thought unfolds itself by a movement of complete analysis with relations and shades of meaning: in the other, it resembles a line of badly quarried blocks, put together without cement.

After what has already been said, there is nothing surprising in finding a fundamental analogy, or even identity, between the language of deaf-mutes and the analytic gestures of primitive peoples. It was indeed pointed out by Akerly in an institution in New York in the beginning of the century. Gérando gave a good many examples,[38] remarking that the “gestures of reduction,” i. e., abridged gestures, are often enough identical in the two cases. Mallery brought together some Utah Indians, and a deaf-mute, who gave them a long account of a marauding expedition, followed by a dialogue: they understood each other perfectly.

The language of analytical gesture is thus a substitute for spoken language, and this leads us to a question which, though purely speculative, deserves our attention for a moment.

At a time when it was almost universally admitted that man is unable to think without words, Dugald Stewart ventured to write: “If men had been deprived of the organs of voice or the sense of hearing, there is no doubt that they would have invented an alphabet of visible signs wherewith to express all their ideas and sentiments.”[39] This is no rash assertion; we have just seen proofs of it. But is this pantomime-language susceptible of progress?

We can hardly doubt that if humanity, with its proper cerebral constitution, had at the same time been unable to speak, the language of analytic gesture would, by the initiative of certain inventors, under press of necessity, and by the influence of co-operation and of life in common, have advanced beyond the imperfect phase at which it has remained; and no one can say what it might have become in the accumulated effort of centuries. Speech, too, had to traverse an embryonic period, and oral language developed slowly and painfully. At the same time it is an exaggeration to say that “phonetic language assumed its extraordinary importance almost by chance, and that we cannot doubt that the language of mimicry, had it been fashioned by social relations during secular ages, would be hardly inferior to speech in force, facility, and variety.”[40] In fact, man had originally two languages at his disposal; he used the one and the other interchangeably and simultaneously. They helped each other in the development of ideas that were as yet chaotic and vacillating. Under these conditions, speech prevailed; the language of gesture remained only as a survival or a substitute. There is nothing fortuitous in this: speech has won because of its greater value.

First, for practical reasons. And this is the capital factor, since the main point is to communicate with one’s fellow-men. The language of gesture—besides monopolising the hands, and thus keeping them from other work—has the great disadvantage of not carrying far, and of being impossible in the dark. To this we may add the reasons cited above: its vague character, and (with regard to the abstract) its imitative nature, which forbids emancipation, or complete detachment, from the concrete, or the translation of that which cannot be represented. It is to be remarked, however, that the invention of “reduced” signs seems to be a transition from pure imitation to symbolism, a first step in the path of emancipation.

Speech, on the contrary, is transmitted to a distance, and challenges darkness. It is dependent upon the ear, an organ whose sensations are infinite in number and kind; and in the finest expression of ideas and of feelings, language participates in this opulence. It lends itself to variety, delicacy, to an extreme complexity of movement in a small space, with very little effort. We are, for the moment, citing physiological reasons only. But these will suffice to show that the triumph of speech has not been fortuitous, but that it is a very special case of natural supremacy.[41]

In conclusion, there is nothing to add as to generic images, and the logic of images. The important part which they play amongst children and deaf-mutes testifies to their extension and importance as inferior forms of abstraction, without in any way altering their essential nature, as previously determined.

CHAPTER II.
SPEECH.

Before we inquire into abstraction, as fixed and expressed in words,—whether such words are the complement of an actual or possible representation, or exist alone in consciousness, as complete substitutes,—it is indispensable that we should study the origin, and still more the evolution, of this new factor. Although many linguists resolutely abstain from considering the origin of speech (which is certainly, like all other genetic problems, beyond the grasp of psychology), the question is so intimately allied with that of the evolution of articulate language, allied again in itself with the progressive development of abstraction and of generalisation, that we should not be justified in withholding a brief summary of the principal hypotheses relating to this subject, while limiting ourselves to the most recent.