Whether the one opinion or the other be adopted, I see no conclusion to be drawn from it save that the first terms designated qualities or manners of being, varying with the race. The first thesis seems the more apt in revealing to us the primitive forms of abstraction and generalisation. If it be selected despite its fragility, one finds in the list of roots (even when most reduced) an extraordinary mixture of terms applied to the most disparate things (e. g., tears, break, measure, milk, to choose, to clean, to vomit, cold, to fear, etc.). To assert with Max Müller (from whom I borrow the preceding terms) that “these are the one hundred and twenty-one original concepts, the primitive intellectual baggage of the Aryan family” is to employ an unfortunate formula, for nothing could less resemble concepts than the contents of this list. If the second thesis be adopted, the root then being nothing but “the exposed kernel of a family of words,” “a phonogram,” analogous to composite photographs, formed like these by a condensation of the similarities between several terms, then clearly primitive abstraction and generalisation must be sought in words, and not in roots.[53]
II. Leaving this question which, from its relation to that of the origin of speech, shares in the same obscurity, we have further to ask if the primitive terms (whatever nature be attributed to them) were, properly speaking, words or phrases? Did man initially give utterance to simple denominations, or to affirmations and negations? On this point all linguists seem to be in agreement. “Speech must express a judgment.” In other words it is always a phrase. “Language is based on the phrase, not on the single word: we do not think by means of words, but by means of phrases.”[54]
This phrase may be a single word,—or composite, formed by confusion of words as in the so-called agglutinative, polysynthetic, holophrastic languages,—or two words, subject and attribute; or three distinct words, subject, attribute, and copula; but beneath all these forms the fundamental function is unalterably to affirm or deny.
The same remark has been made of children. “We must,” says Preyer, “reject the general notion that children first employ substantives, and afterwards verbs. My son, at the age of twenty-three months first used an adjective to express a judgment, the first which he enunciated in his maternal tongue; he said heiss (hot) for ‘the milk is too warm.’” Later on, the proposition was made in two words: heim-mimi, ‘I want to go home and drink some milk’ (heim = home, mimi = milk). Taine and others have cited several observations of the same order.[55]
According to some authors, all language that has reached complete development has perforce passed through the three successive periods of monosyllabism, polysynthetism, and analysis; so that the idioms that remain monosyllabic or agglutinative would correspond to an arrest in development. To others, this is a hypothesis, only, to be rejected. However this may be (and it is not a question that we need to examine), it seems rash to assert, with Sayce, “that the division of the phrase into two parts, subject and predicate, is a pure accident, and that if Aristotle had been Mexican (the Aztec language was polysynthetic), his system of logic would have assumed a totally different form.” The appearance and evolution of analytical language is not pure accident, but the result of mental development. It is impossible to pass from synthesis to analysis without dividing, separating, and arraying the isolated parts in a certain order. The logic of a Mexican Aristotle might have differed from our own in its form; but it could not have constituted itself without fracture of its linguistic mould, without setting up a division, at least in theory, between the elements of the discourse. The unconscious activity by which certain idioms made towards analysis, and passed from the period of envelopment to that of development, imposed upon them a successive order. Polysynthetic languages have been likened to the performance of children who want to say everything at once, their ideas all surge up together and form a conglomeration.[56] Evidently this method must be given up, or we must renounce all serious progress in analysis.
To sum up the psychological value of the phrase, independently of its multiple forms, we may conclude by the following remarks of Max Müller:
“We imagine that language is impossible without sentences, and that sentences are impossible without the copula. This view is both right and wrong. If we mean by sentence an utterance consisting of several words, and a subject, and a predicate, and a copula, it is wrong.... When the sentence consists only of subject and predicate, we may say that a copula is understood, but the truth is that at first it was not expressed, it was not required to be expressed; in primitive languages it was simply impossible to express it. To be able to say vir est bonus, instead of vir bonus, is one of the latest achievements of human speech.”[57]
III.
The evolution of speech, starting from the protoplasmic state without organs or functions, and acquiring them little by little, proceeding progressively from indefinite to definite, from fluid to fixed state, can only be sketched in free outline. In details it falls within neither our subject nor our cognisance. But the successive points of this differentiation, which creates grammatical forms, and parts of discourse, are under an objective form the history of the development of intelligence, inasmuch as it abstracts, generalises, analyses, and tends towards an ever-growing precision. The completely developed languages—and we are speaking only of such—bear throughout the print of the unconscious labor that has fashioned them for centuries: they are a petrified psychology.