"As infancy begins to speak by the free though unconscious combination of linguistic elements, so childhood retains in language a measure of freedom. A little attention to the jargons invented by children might have been serviceable to certain philologists. Their love of originality finds the tongue of their elders too commonplace; besides, their fondness for mystery requires secret ways of communication. They, therefore, often create (so to speak) new languages, which are formed by changes in the mother-speech, but sometimes have quite complicated laws of structure and a considerable arbitrary element." The author cites examples of the "Hog Latin" of New England schoolchildren, in the elaboration of which much youthful ingenuity is expended. Most interesting is the brief account of the "cat" language:—
"A group of children near Boston invented the cat language, so called because its object was to admit of free intercourse with cats, to whom it was mostly talked, and by whom it was presumed to be comprehended. In this tongue the cat was naturally the chief subject of nomenclature; all feline positions were observed and named, and the language was rich in such epithets, as Arabic contains a vast number of expressions for lion. Euphonic changes were very arbitrary and various, differing for the same termination; but the adverbial ending -ly was always -osh; terribly, terriblosh. A certain percentage of words were absolutely independent, or at least of obscure origin. The grammar tended to Chinese or infantine simplicity; ta represented any case of any personal pronoun. A proper name might vary in sound according to the euphonic requirements of the different Christian names by which it was preceded. There were two dialects, one, however, stigmatized as provincial. This invention of language must be very common, since other cases have fallen under our notice in which children have composed dictionaries of such" (313. 25).
This characterization of child-speech offers not a few points of contact with primitive languages, and might indeed almost have been written of one of them.
More recently Colonel Higginson (262) has given some details of "a language formed for their own amusement by two girls of thirteen or thereabouts, both the children of eminent scientific men, and both unusually active-minded and observant." This dialect "is in the most vivid sense a living language," and the inventors, who keep pruning and improving it, possess a manuscript dictionary of some two hundred words, which, it is to be hoped, will some day be published. An example or two from those given by Colonel Higginson will serve to indicate the general character of the vocabulary:—
bojiwassis, "the feeling you have just before you jump, don't you know—when you mean to jump and want to do it, and are just a little bit afraid to do it."
spygri, "the way you feel when you have just jumped and are awfully proud of it."
pippadolify, "stiff and starched like the young officers at Washington."
Other information respecting this "home-made dialect," with its revising academy of children and its standard dictionary, must be sought in the entertaining pages of Colonel Higginson, who justly says of this triumph of child-invention: "It coins thought into syllables, and one can see that, if a group of children like these were taken and isolated until they grew up, they would forget in time which words were their own and which were in Worcester's Dictionary; and stowish and krono and bojiwassis would gradually become permanent forms of speech" (262. 108).
In his valuable essay on The Origin of Languages (249), Mr. Horatio Hale discusses a number of cases of invention of languages by children, giving interesting, though (owing to the neglect of the observers) not very extensive, details of each.
One of the most curious instances of the linguistic inventiveness of children is the case of the Boston twins (of German descent on the mother's side) born in 1860, regarding whose language a few details were given by Miss E. H. Watson, who says: "At the usual age these twins began to talk, but, strange to say, not their 'mother-tongue.' They had a language of their own, and no pains could induce them to speak anything else. It was in vain that a little sister, five years older than they, tried to make them speak their native language,—as it would have been. They persistently refused to utter a syllable of English. Not even the usual first words, 'papa,' 'mamma,' 'father,' 'mother,' it is said, did they ever speak; and, said the lady who gave this information to the writer,—who was an aunt of the children, and whose home was with them,—they were never known during this interval to call their mother by that name. They had their own name for her, but never the English. In fact, though they had the usual affections, were rejoiced to see their father at his returning home each night, playing with him, etc., they would seem to have been otherwise completely taken up, absorbed, with each other…. The children had not yet been to school; for, not being able to speak their 'own English,' it seemed impossible to send them from home. They thus passed the days, playing and talking together in their own speech, with all the liveliness and volubility of common children. Their accent was German,—as it seemed to the family. They had regular words, a few of which the family learned sometimes to distinguish; as that, for example, for carriage [ni-si-boo-a], which, on hearing one pass in the street, they would exclaim out, and run to the window" (249. 11). We are further informed that, when the children were six or seven years old, they were sent to school, but for a week remained "perfectly mute"; indeed, "not a sound could be heard from them, but they sat with their eyes intently fixed upon the children, seeming to be watching their every motion,—and no doubt, listening to every sound. At the end of that time they were induced to utter some words, and gradually and naturally they began, for the first time, to learn their 'native English.' With this accomplishment, the other began also naturally to fade away, until the memory with the use of it passed from their mind" (249. 12).