LONDON
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO.
PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1890
ON THE SCIENCES OF LANGUAGE AND OF ETHNOGRAPHY:
With special reference to the Language and Customs of the People of Hunza.[149]
The time has long passed since grammar and its rules could be treated in the way to which we were accustomed at school. Vitality has now to be breathed into the dry bones of conjugations and declensions, and no language can be taught, even for mere practical purposes, without connecting custom and history with so-called “rules.” The influences of climate and of religion have to be considered, as well as the character of the people, if we wish to obtain a real hold on the language of our study. Do we desire to make language a speciality, the preparation of acquiring early in life two dissimilar languages, one analytic and the other synthetic, is absolutely necessary, because if that is not done, we shall always be hampered by the difficulty of dissociating the substance from the word which designates it. The human mind is extremely limited, and amongst the limits imposed upon it are those of, in early life, connecting an idea, fact, or process, with certain words; and unless two languages, at least, are learnt, and those two are as dissimilar as possible, one is always, more or less, the slave of routine in the perception and in the application of new facts and of new ideas, and in the adaptation of any matter of either theoretical or practical importance. It is a great advantage, for linguistic purposes, which are far more practically important than may be generally believed, that the study of the classical languages still holds the foremost place in this country; because, however necessary scientific “observation” may be, it cannot take the place of a cultured imagination. The stimulus of illustration and comparison, which, in the historical sense of the terms, is an absolutely necessary primary condition to mental advance, is derived from classical and literary pursuits. The study of two very similar languages, however, is not the same discipline to a beginner in linguistics; e.g., to learn French and Italian is not of the same value as French and German, for the more dissimilar the languages the better.
Again, if you desire to elicit a language of which you know nothing, from a savage who cannot explain it and who does not understand your language, there are certain processes with which some linguists, no doubt, are familiar, and others commend themselves in practical experience; for instance, in pointing to an object which you wish to have, say, a fruit which you want to eat, you may not only obtain the name for it, but the gesture to obtain it, if you are surrounded by several savages whose language you do not know, may also induce one of the men to order another to get it for you,—I suppose on the principle that it is easy for one to command and for others to obey; but, be that as it may, this course, to the attentive observer, first obtains the name for the required thing and next elicits the imperative; you hear something with a kind of inflection which, once heard, cannot be mistaken for anything else than the imperative. Further, the reply to the imperative would either elicit “yes,” or “no,” or the indicative present. This process of inquiry does not apply to all languages, but it applies to a great many; and the attitude which you have to assume towards every language that you know nothing about, in the midst of strangers who speak it, is that, of course, of an entirely sympathetic student. You have, indeed, to apply to language the dictum which Buddhist Lamas apply to religion—never to think, much less to say, that your own religion (in this case your own language) is the best; i.e., the form of expression in which you are in the habit of conveying your thoughts, is one so perfectly conventional, though rational in your case, that the greatest freedom from prejudice is as essential a consideration as the wish to acquire the language of others. In other words, in addition to the mere elementary acquisition of knowledge, you have to cultivate a sympathetic attitude; and here, again, is one of the proofs of a truth which my experience has taught me, that, however great knowledge may be, sympathy is greater, for sympathy enables us to fit the key which is given by knowledge. Gestures also elicit a response in dealing, for instance, with numerals, where we are facilitated by the fingers of the hand. Of course, one is occasionally stopped by a savage who cannot go, or is supposed not to be able to go, beyond two, or beyond five.
I take it that in the majority of cases of that kind, a good deal of our misconception with regard to the difficulty of the inquiry lies in ourselves—that ideas of multitude connected with the peculiar customs of the race that have yet to be ascertained, are at the bottom of the inability of that race to follow our numeration. For instance we go up to ten, and in order to elicit a name for eleven, we say “one, ten;” if the man laughs, change the order, and say “ten, one;” the chances are that the savage will instinctively rejoin “ten and one,” and we then get the conjunction. Putting the fingers of both hands together may mean “multitude,” “alliance,” or “enmity,” according as the customs of the race are interpreted by that gesture.
I am reminded of this particular instance in my experience, because I referred to it in a discussion on an admirable paper on the Kafirs of the Hindukush by the eminent Dr. Bellew. If you do not take custom along with a “rule,” and do not try to explain the so-called rule by either historical events or some custom of the race, you make language a matter entirely of memory, and as memory is one of the faculties that suffers most from advancing age, or from modes of living and various other circumstances, the moment that memory is impaired your linguistic knowledge must suffer—you, therefore, should make language a matter of judgment and of associations. If you do not do that, however great your linguistic knowledge or scholarship, you must eventually fail in doing justice to the subject or to those with whom you are dealing.
The same principle applies as much to a highly civilised language like Arabic, one of the most important languages in the way of expressing the multifarious processes of human thought and action, as to the remnant of the pre-historic Hunza language, which throws an unexpected light on the science of language.
Let us first take Arabic and the misconceptions of it by Arabic scholars. In 1859 I pointed out before the College of Preceptors, how it was necessary not only to discriminate between the Chapters in the Koran delivered at Mecca, and those given at Medina, but also to arrange the verses out of various Chapters in their real sequence. I believe we are now advancing towards a better understanding of this most remarkable book. But we still find in its translation such passages, for instance, as, “when in war women are captured, take those that are not married.” The meaning is nothing so arbitrary. The expression for “take” that we have there is ankohu—marry, i.e., take in marriage or nikáh, as no alliance can be formed with even a willing captive taken in war, except through the process of nikáh, which is the religious marriage contract. Again, we have the passage, “Kill the infidels wherever you find them.” There again is shown the want of sympathetic knowledge, which is distinct from the knowledge of our translators who render “qatilu” by “kill,” when it merely means “fight” and refers to an impending engagement with enemies who were then attacking Muhammed’s camp. Apart from accuracy of translation, a sympathetic attitude is also of practical importance. E.g., had we gone into Oriental questions with more sympathy and, in consequence, more real knowledge, many of our frontier wars would have been avoided, and there is not the least doubt that in dealing with Oriental humanity, whether we had taken a firm or a conciliatory course, we should have been upon a track more likely to lead to success than by taking action based on insufficient knowledge or on preconceptions. For instance, in the Times there was a telegram from Suakim about the Mahdi, to the effect that El Senousi was opposing him successfully. I do not know who El Senousi is, but very many years ago I pointed out the great importance of the Senousi sect in Africa, and, unless the deceased founder of that name has now arisen, whether it is a man of that name or the now well-known sect that is mentioned, one cannot say from the telegram. The sender of the message states that as sure as the El Senousi rises to importance there will be a danger to Egypt and to Islam. It is Christian like to think well of Islam, and to try to protect it. This very few Christians do, and it shows a kind feeling towards a sister-faith, but I am not sure that the writer accurately knew what Islam is; though there can be no doubt that the rise of fanatical sects, like the Senousi, which is largely due to the feeling of resistance created by the encroachments of so-called European civilisation, is opposed to orthodox Muhammedanism. Be that as it may, I have also turned to “the further correspondence on the affairs of Egypt” which a friend gave me, and, really, I now know rather less about Egypt than I did before. For instance, I find (and I am specially referring to the blue-book in my hand) that letters of the greatest importance from the Mahdi are treated in the following flippant manner: “This is nothing more or less than an unauthenticated copy of a letter sent by the deceased Mahdi to General Gordon!” Is this not enough to deserve attentive inquiry? General Gordon would, probably, not have agreed with the writer of this contemptuous remark, which is doubly out of place when we are also told that the Mahdi was sending Gordon certain verses and passages from the Korán, illustrative of his position, which are eliminated by the translator as unnecessary, of no importance, and of very little interest! Now, considering that this gentleman knew Arabic, I think I am right when I add that with a little more sympathy he would have known more, and had he known more he would have quoted those passages, for it is most necessary for us to know on what precise authority of the Korán or of tradition this so-called Mahdi based his claim, and knowledge of this kind would give us the opportunity of dealing with the matter. Again, on the question of Her Majesty’s title of “Kaisar-i-hind,” which, after great difficulty, I succeeded in carrying into general adoption in India, the previous translators of “Empress” had suggested some title which would either have been unintelligible or which would have given Her Majesty a disrespectful appellation, whilst none would have created that awe and respect which, I suppose, the translation of the Imperial title was intended to inspire. Even the subsequent official adopter of this title, Sir W. Muir, advocated it on grounds which would have rendered it inapplicable to India. With the National Anthem similarly, we had a translation by a Persian into Hindustani, which was supported by a number of Oriental scholars in this country, who either did not study it, or who dealt with the matter entirely from a theoretical point of view, and what was the result? The result was—that for “God Save the Queen,” a passage was put which was either blasphemous, or which, in popular Muhammedan acceptance, might mean, “God grant that Her Majesty may again marry!” whereas one of the glories of Her Majesty among her Hindu subjects is that she is a true “Satti” or Suttee, viz., a righteous widow, who ever honours the memory of her terrestrial and spiritual husband—neither of those views being intended by the translator, or by that very large and responsible body of men who supported him, and that still larger and emphatically loyal body that intended to give the translation of the National Anthem as a gift to India at a cost of several thousand pounds, when for a hundred rupees a dozen accurate and respectful versions were elicited by me in India itself.