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TONE AND GESTURE.

Tone and Gesture, considered as means of communication, may be dealt with simultaneously. For while it cannot be said that either historically or psychologically one is prior to the other, no more can it be said that in the earliest phases of their development one is more expressive than the other. All the more intelligent of the lower animals employ both; and the hissings, spittings, growlings, screamings, gruntings, cooings, &c., which in different species accompany as many different kinds of gesture, are assuredly not less expressive of the various kinds of feelings which are expressed. Again, in our own species, tone is quite as general, and, within certain limits, quite as expressive as gesture. Nay, even in fully developed speech, rational meaning is largely dependent for its conveyance upon slight differences of intonation. The five hundred words which go to constitute the Chinese language are raised to three times that number by the use of significant intonation; and even in the most highly developed languages shades of meaning admit of being rendered in this way which could not be rendered in any other.

Nevertheless, the language of tone, like the language of gesture, clearly lies nearer to, and is more immediately expressive of the logic of recepts, than is the language of articulation. This is easily proved by all the facts at our disposal. We know that an infant makes considerable advance in the language of tone and gesture before it begins to speak; and, according to Dr. Scott, who has had a large experience in the instruction of idiotic children, “those to whom there is no hope of teaching more than the merest rudiments of speech, are yet capable of receiving a considerable amount of knowledge by means of signs, and of expressing themselves by them.”[67] Lastly, among savages, it is notorious that tone, gesticulation, and grimace play a much larger part in conversation than they do among ourselves. Indeed, we have some, though not undisputed, evidence to show that in the case of many savages gesticulation is so far a necessary aid to articulation, that the latter without the former is but very imperfectly intelligible. For example, “those who, like the Arapahos, possess a very scanty vocabulary, pronounced in a quasi-intelligible way, can hardly converse with one another in the dark.”[68] And, as Mr. Tylor says, “the array of evidence in favour of the existence of tribes whose language is incomplete without the help of gesture-signs, even for things of ordinary import, is very remarkable.”[C] A fact which, as he very properly adds, “constitutes a telling argument in favour of the theory that the gesture-language is the original utterance of mankind [as it is ontogenetically in the individual man], out of which speech has developed itself more or less fully among different tribes.”[69]

In support of the same general conclusions I may here also quote the following excellent remarks from Colonel Mallery’s laborious work on Gesture-language:—[70]

“The wishes and emotions of very young children are conveyed in a small number of sounds, but in a great variety of gestures and facial expressions. A child’s gestures are intelligent long in advance of speech; although very early and persistent attempts are made to give it instruction in the latter but none in the former, from the time when it begins risu cognoscere matrem. It learns words only as they are taught, and learns them through the medium of signs which are not expressly taught. Long after familiarity with speech, it consults the gestures and facial expressions of its parents and nurses, as if seeking thus to translate or explain their words. These facts are important in reference to the biologic law that the order of development of the individual is the same as that of the species. … The insane understand and obey gestures when they have no knowledge whatever of words. It is also found that semi-idiotic children who cannot be taught more than the merest rudiments of speech can receive a considerable amount of information through signs, and can express themselves by them. Sufferers from aphasia continue to use appropriate gestures. A stammerer, too, works his arms and features as if determined to get his thoughts out, in a manner not only suggestive of the physical struggle, but of the use of gestures as a hereditary expedient.”

Words, then, in so far as they are not intentionally imitative of other sounds, and so approximate to gestures, are essentially more conventional than are tones immediately expressive of emotions, or bodily actions which appeal to the eye, and which, in so far as they are intentionally significant, are made, as far as possible, intentionally pictorial. Therefore, either to make or to understand these more conventional signs requires a higher order of mental evolution; and on this account it is that we everywhere find the language of tone and gesture preceding that of articulate speech, as at once the more simple, more natural, and therefore more primitive means of conveying receptual ideas.

We find the same general truth exemplified in the fact that the language of tone and gesture is always resorted to by men who do not understand each others’ articulate speech; and although among the races in which gesture-language has been carried to its highest degree of elaboration most of the signs employed have become more or less conventional, in the main they are still pictorial. This is directly proved, without the need of special analysis, by the fact that the members of such races are able to communicate with one another in a manner so singularly complete that to an onlooker the result seems almost magical.

Thus “the Indians who have been shown over the civilized East have often succeeded in holding intercourse by means of their invention and application of principles, in what may be called the voiceless mother utterance, with white deaf-mutes, who surely have no semiotic code more nearly connected with that attributed to the Indians than is derived from their common humanity. They showed the greatest pleasure in meeting deaf-mutes, precisely as travellers in a foreign country are rejoiced to meet persons speaking their language.”[71]

Again, Tylor says, “Gesture-language is substantially the same all the world over,” and Mallery confirms this by the remark that “the writer’s study not only sustains it, but shows a surprising number of signs for the same idea which are substantially identical, not only among savage tribes, but among all peoples that use gesture-signs with any freedom. Men, in groping for a mode of communication with each other, and using the same general methods, have been under many varying conditions and circumstances which have determined differently many conceptions and their semiotic execution, but there have also been many of both which were similar.”

Such being the case, it is a matter of interest to determine the syntax of this language; for we may be sure that by so doing we are at work upon the root-principles of the sign-making faculty where it arises out of the logic of recepts, and not upon the developed ramifications of this faculty where we find it wrought up into the more highly conventional logic of concepts characteristic of speech. But before I enter upon this branch of our subject, I shall say a few words to show to what a high degree of perfection gesture-language admits of being developed.

Tylor observes:—“As a means of communication, there is no doubt that the Indian pantomime is not merely capable of expressing a few simple and ordinary notions, but that to the uncultured savage, with his few and material ideas, it is a very fair substitute for his scanty vocabulary.”[72] And Colonel Mallery, in the admirable treatise already referred to, shows in detail to what a surprising extent this “Indian pantomime” is thus available as a substitute for speech. The following may be selected from among the numerous dialogues and discourses which he gives, and which all present the same general character. It is communicated by Mr. Ivan Pehoff, who took notes of the conversation at the time. The two conversers were Indians of different tribes.

“(1) Kenaitze.—Left hand raised to height of eye, palm outward, moved several times from right to left rapidly; fingers extended and closed; pointing to strangers with left hand. Right hand describes a curve from north to east.—‘Which of the north-eastern tribes is yours?’

“(2) Tennanal.—Right hand, hollowed, lifted to mouth, then extended and describing waving line gradually descending from right to left. Left hand describing mountainous outline, apparently one peak rising above the other. Said by Chalidoolts to mean, ‘Tenan-tnu-kohtana, Mountain-river-men.’

“(3) K.—Left hand raised to height of eye, palm outward, moved from right to left, fingers extended. Left index describes curve from east to west. Outline of mountain and river as in preceding sign.—‘How many days from Mountain-river?’

“(4) T.—Right hand raised towards index, and thumb forming first crescent and then ring. This repeated three times.—‘Moon, new and full three times.’

“(5) Right hand raised, palm to front, index raised and lowered at regular intervals—‘Walked.’ Both hands imitating paddling of canoe, alternately right and left.—‘Travelled three months on foot and by canoe.’

“(6) Both arms crossed over breast, simulating shivering.—Cold, winter.’

“(7) Right index pointing toward speaker.—‘I’; left hand pointing to the west—‘travelled westward.’

“(8) Right hand lifted cup-shaped to mouth—‘Water.’ Right hand describing waving line from right to left gradually descending, pointing to the west.—‘River running westward.’

“(9) Right hand gradually pushed forward, palm upward, from height of breast. Left hand shading eyes; looking at great distance.—‘Very wide.’

“(10) Left and right hands put together in shape of sloping shelter.—‘Lodge, camp.’

“(11) Both hands lifted height of eye, palm inward, fingers spread.—‘Many times.’

“(12) Both hands closed, palm outward, height of hips.—‘Surprised.’

“(13) Index pointing from eye forward.—‘See.’

“(14) Right hand held up, height of shoulder, three fingers extended, left hand pointing to me.—‘Three white men.’

“(15) K.—Right hand pointing to me, left hand held up, three fingers extended.—‘Three white men.’

“(16) Making Russian sign of cross—‘Russians.’—‘Were the three white men Russians?’

“(17) T.—Left hand raised, palm inward, two fingers extended sign of cross with right.—‘Two Russians.’

“(18) Right hand extended, height of eye, palm outward, moved outward a little to right.—‘No.’

“(19) One finger of left hand raised.—‘One.’

“(20) Sign of cross with right.—‘Russian.’

“(21) Right hand, height of eye, fingers closed and extended, palm outward a little to right.—‘Yes.’

“(22) Right hand carried across chest, hand extended, palm upward, fingers and thumb closed as if holding something. Left hand in same position carried across the right, palm downward.—‘Trade.’

“(23) Left hand upholding one finger, right pointing to me.—‘One white man.’

“(24) Right hand held horizontally, palm downward, about four feet from ground.—‘Small.’

“(25) Forming rings before eyes with index and thumb.—‘Eye-glasses.’

“(26) Right hand clinched, palm upward, in front of chest, thumb pointing inward.—‘Gave one.’

“(27) Forming cup with right hand, simulating drinking.—‘Drink.’

“(28) Right hand grasping chest repeatedly, fingers curved and spread.—‘Strong.’

“(29) Both hands pressed to temple, and head moved from side to side.—‘Drunk, headache.’

“(30) Both index fingers placed together extended, pointing forward.—‘Together.’

“(31) Fingers interlaced repeatedly.—‘Build.’

“(32) Left hand extended, fingers closed, placed slopingly against left.—‘Camp.’

“(33) Both wrists placed against temples, hands curved upward and outward, fingers spread.—‘Horns.’

“(34) Both hands horizontally lifted to height of shoulder, right arm extended gradually full length, hand drooping a little at the end.—‘Long back, moose.’

“(35) Both hands upright, palm outward, fingers extended and spread, placing one before the other alternately.—‘Trees, dense forest.’

“(36) Sign of cross.—‘Russian.’

“(37) Motions of shooting again.—‘Shot.’

“(38) Sign for moose (Nos. 33, 34); showing two fingers of left hand.—‘Two.’

“(39) Sign for camp as before (No. 10).—‘Camp.’

“(40) Right hand describing curve from east to west, twice.—‘Two days.’

“(41) Left hand lifted height of mouth, back outward, fingers closed as if holding something; right hand simulating motion of tearing off, and placing in mouth.—‘Eating moose meat.’

“(42) Right hand placed horizontally against heart; fingers closed, moved forward a little and raised a little several times.—‘Glad at heart.’

“(43) Fingers of left hand and index of right hand extended and placed together horizontally, pointing forward height of chest. Hands separated, right pointing eastward, and left westward.—‘Three men and speaker parted, going west and east.’ ”

And so on, the conversation continuing up to 116 paragraphs. No doubt some of these gestures appear conventional, and such is undoubtedly the case with a great many which Colonel Mallery gives in his Dictionary of Indian Signs. But this only shows that no system of signs can be developed in any high degree without becoming more or less conventional. The point I desire to be noticed is, that gesture-language continues as far as possible—or as long as possible—to be the natural expression of the logic of recepts. As Mallery elsewhere observes, “the result of the studies, so far as presented is, that that which is called the sign-language of Indians is not, properly speaking, one language; but that it, and the gesture-systems of deaf-mutes, and of all peoples, constitute together one language—the gesture-speech of mankind—of which each system is a dialect.” As showing this, and at the same time to give other instances of the perfection of gesture-language, I may quote one instance of the employment of such language by other nations, and one of its employment by deaf-mutes. The first which I select is recorded by Alexander Dumas.

“Six weeks after this, I saw a second example of this faculty of mute communication. This was at Naples. I was walking with a young man of Syracuse. We passed by a sentinel. The soldier and my companion exchanged two or three grimaces, which at another time I should not even have noticed; but the instances I had before seen led me to give attention. ‘Poor fellow!’ sighed my companion. ‘What did he say to you?’ I asked. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I thought that I recognized him as a Sicilian, and I learned from him, as we passed, from what place he came; he said he was from Syracuse, and that he knew me well. Then I asked him how he liked the Neapolitan service; he said he did not like it at all, and if his officers did not treat him better he should certainly end by deserting. I then signified to him that if he ever should be reduced to that extremity, he might rely upon me, and that I would aid him all in my power. The poor fellow thanked me with all his heart, and I have no doubt that one day or other I shall see him come.’ Three days after I was at the quarters of my Syracusan friend, when he was told that a man asked to see him who would not give his name; he went out and left me nearly ten minutes. ‘Well,’ said he on returning, ‘just as I said.’ ‘What?’ said I. ‘That the poor fellow would desert.’ ”

The instance which I select of gesture-language as employed by a deaf-mute occurred in the National Deaf-Mute College at Washington, to which Colonel Mallery took seven Uta Indians on March 6, 1880.

“Another deaf-mute gestured to tell us that, when he was a boy, he went to a melon-field, tapped several melons, finding them to be green or unripe: finally, reaching a good one, he took his knife, cut a slice and ate it. A man made his appearance on horseback, entered the patch on foot, found the cut melon, and, detecting the thief, threw the melon towards him, hitting him in the back, whereupon he ran away crying. The man mounted and rode off in an opposite direction.

“All of these signs were readily comprehended, although some of the Indians varied very slightly in their translation. When the Indians were asked whether, if they (the deaf-mutes) were to come to the Uta country, they would be scalped, the answer was given, ‘Nothing would be done to you; but we would be friends,’ as follows:—

“The palm of the right hand was brushed toward the right over that of the left (‘nothing’), and the right made to grasp the palm of the left, thumbs extended over, and lying upon the back of the opposing hand (‘friends’).

“This was readily understood by the deaf-mutes. Deaf-mute sign of milking a cow and drinking the milk was fully and quickly understood.

“The narrative of a boy going to an apple tree, hunting for ripe fruit, and filling his pockets, being surprised by the owner and hit upon the head with a stone, was much appreciated by the Indians and completely understood.”

Innumerable other instances of the same kind might be given;[73] but I have now said enough to establish the only points with which I am here concerned—namely, that gesture-language admits of being developed to a degree which renders it a fair substitute for spoken language, where the ideas to be conveyed are not highly abstract; and that it admits of being so developed without departing further from a direct or natural expression of ideation (as distinguished from a conventional or artificial) than allows it to be readily understood by the sign-talkers, without any preconcerted agreement as to the meanings to be attached to the particular signs employed.

Such being the case, it is of importance next to note that, as all the existing races of mankind are a word-speaking race, we are not now able to eliminate this factor, and to say how far the sign-making faculty, as exhibited in the gesture-language of man, is indebted to the elaborating influence produced by the constant and parallel employment of spoken language. We can scarcely, however, entertain any doubt that the reflex influence of speech upon gesture must have been considerable, if not immense. Even the case of the deaf-mutes proves nothing to the contrary; for these unfortunate individuals, although not able themselves to speak, nevertheless inherit in their human brains the psychological structure which has been built up by means of speech; their sign-making faculty is as well developed as in other men, though, from a physiological accident, they are deprived of the ordinary means of displaying it. Therefore we have no evidence to show to what level of excellence the sign-making faculty of man would have attained, if the race had been destitute of the faculty of speech. I shall have to return to this consideration in the next chapter, and only mention it here to avoid an undue estimate being prematurely formed of the importance of gesture as a means of thought-formation, or distinct from that of thought-expression.

I shall now proceed to analyze in some detail the syntax of gesture-language. And here again I must depend for my facts upon the two writers who have best studied this kind of language in a properly scientific manner.

Mr. Tylor says:—“The gesture-language has no grammar, properly so called; it knows no inflections of any kind, any more than the Chinese. The same sign stands for ‘walk,’ ‘walkest,’ ‘walking,’ ‘walked,’ ‘walker.’ Adjectives and verbs are not easily distinguished by the deaf and dumb. ‘Horse, black, handsome, trot, canter,’ would be the rough translation of the signs by which a deaf-mute would state that a black handsome horse trots and canters. Indeed, our elaborate system of parts of speech is but little applicable to the gesture-language, though, as will be more fully said in another chapter, it may perhaps be possible to trace in spoken language a Dualism, in some measure resembling that of the Gesture-language, with its two constituent parts, the bringing forward objects and actions in actual fact, and the mere suggestion of them by imitation. … It has, however, a syntax which is worthy of careful examination. The syntax of speaking man differs according to the language he may learn, ‘equus niger,’ ‘a black horse;’ ‘hominem amo,’ ‘j’aime l’homme.’ But the deaf-mute strings together the signs of the various ideas he wishes to connect, in what appears to be the natural order in which they follow one another in his mind, for it is the same among the mutes in different countries, and is wholly independent of the syntax which may happen to belong to the language of their speaking friends. For instance, their usual construction is not ‘Black horse,’ but ‘Horse black;’ not ‘Bring a black hat,’ but ‘Hat black bring;’ not ‘I am hungry, give me bread,’ but ‘Hungry me, bread give.’ …

“The fundamental principle which regulates the order of the deaf-mutes’ signs, seems to be that enunciated by Schmalz: that which seems to him the most important he always acts before the rest, and that which seems to him superfluous he leaves out. For instance, to say, ‘My father gave me an apple,’ he makes the sign for ‘apple,’ then that for ‘father,’ and then that for ‘I,’ without adding that for ‘give.’ The following remarks, sent to me by Dr. Scott, seem to agree with this view: With regard to the two sentences you give (I struck Tom with a stick—Tom struck me with a stick), the sequence in the introduction of the particular parts would in some measure depend on the part that most attention was wished to be drawn towards. If a mere telling of the fact was required, my opinion is that it would be arranged so, ‘I-Tom-struck-a-stick,’ and the passive form in a similar manner with the change of ‘Tom’ first.

“Both these sentences are not generally said by the deaf-and-dumb without their having been interested in the fact, and then, in coming to tell of them, they first give that part they are most anxious to impress on their hearer. Thus, if a boy had struck another boy, and the injured party came to tell us, if he was desirous to acquaint us with the idea that a particular boy did it, he would point to the boy first. But if he was anxious to draw attention to his own suffering, rather than to the person by whom it was caused, he would point to himself and make the act of striking, and then point to the boy; or if he was wishful to draw attention to the cause of his suffering, he might sign the striking first, and then tell us afterwards by whom it was done.

“Dr. Scott is, so far as I know, the only person who has attempted to lay down a set of distinct rules for the syntax of the gesture-language. ‘The subject comes before the attribute, the object before the action.’ A third construction is common, though not necessary, ‘the modifier after the modified.’ The first construction, by which the ‘horse’ is put before the ‘black,’ enables the deaf-mute to make his syntax supply, to some extent, the distinction between adjectives and substantives, which his imitative signs do not themselves express.

“The other two are well exemplified by a remark of the Abbé Sicard’s: A pupil to whom I one day put this question, ‘Who made God?’ and who replied, ‘God made nothing,’ left me in no doubt as to this kind of inversion, usual to the deaf-and-dumb, when I went on to ask him, ‘Who made the shoe?’ and he answered, ‘The shoe made the shoemaker.’ So when Laura Bridgman, who was blind as well as deaf-and-dumb, had learnt to communicate ideas by spelling words on her fingers, she would say, ‘Shut door,’ ‘Give book;’ no doubt because she had learnt these sentences whole, but when she made sentences for herself, she would go back to the natural deaf-and-dumb syntax, and spell out ‘Laura bread give,’ to ask for bread to be given her, and ‘Water drink Laura,’ to express that she wanted to drink water. …

“A look of inquiry converts an assertion into a question, and fully seems to make the difference between ‘The master is come,’ and ‘Is the master come?’ The interrogative pronouns ‘Who?’ ‘What?’ are made by looking or pointing about in an inquiring manner; in fact, by a number of unsuccessful attempts to say, ‘he,’ ‘that.’ The deaf-and-dumb child’s way of asking, ‘Who has beaten you?’ would be, ‘You beaten; who was it?’ Though it is possible to render a great mass of simple statements and questions, almost gesture for word, the concretism of thought which belongs to the deaf-mute, whose mind has not been much developed by the use of written language, and even to the educated one when he is thinking and uttering his thoughts in his native signs, commonly requires more complex phrases to be recast. A question so common amongst us as, ‘What is the matter with you?’ would be put, ‘You crying? You have been beaten?’ and so on. The deaf-and-dumb child does not ask, ‘What did you have for dinner yesterday?’ but ‘Did you have soup?’ ‘Did you have porridge?’ and so forth. A conjunctive sentence he expresses by an alternative or contrast; ‘I should be punished if I were lazy and naughty,’ would be put, ‘I lazy, naughty, no!—lazy, naughty, I punished, yes!’ Obligation may be expressed in a similar way; ‘I must love and honour my teacher,’ may be put, ‘Teacher, I beat, deceive, scold, no!—I love, honour, yes!’ As Steinthal says in his admirable essay, it is only the certainty which speech gives to a man’s mind in holding fast ideas in all their relations, which brings him to the shorter course of expressing only the positive side of the idea, and dropping the negative. …

“To ‘make’ is too abstract an idea for the deaf-mute; to show that the tailor makes the coat, or that the carpenter makes the table, he would represent the tailor sewing the coat, and the carpenter sawing and planing the table. Such a proposition as ‘Rain makes the land fruitful,’ would not come into his way of thinking: ‘rain fall, plants grow,’ would be his pictorial expression. … The order of the signs by which the Lord’s Prayer is rendered is much as follows:—‘Father our, heaven in—name Thy hallowed—kingdom Thy come—will Thy done—earth on, heaven in, as. Bread give us daily—trespasses our forgive us, them trespass against us, forgive as. Temptation lead not—but evil deliver from—Kingdom power glory thine for ever.’ ”[74]

I shall now add some quotations from Colonel Mallery on the same subject.

“The reader will understand without explanation that there is in sign-language no organized sentence such as is in the language of civilization, and that he must not look for articles or particles, or passive voice or case or grammatic gender, or even what appears in those languages as a substantive or a verb, as a subject or a predicate, or as qualifiers or inflexions. The sign radicals, without being specifically any of our parts of speech, may be all of them in turn. Sign-language cannot show by inflection the reciprocal dependence of words and sentences. Degrees of motion corresponding with vocal intonations are only used rhetorically, or for degrees of comparison. The relations of ideas and objects are therefore expressed by placement, and their connection is established when necessary by the abstraction of ideas. The sign-talker is an artist, grouping persons and things so as to show the relations, and the effect is that which is seen in a picture. But though the artist has the advantage in presenting in a permanent connected scene the result of several transient signs, he can only present it as it appears at a single moment. The sign-talker has the succession of time at his disposal, and his scenes move and act, are localized and animated, and their arrangement is therefore more varied and significant.”[75]

The following is the order in which the parable of the Prodigal Son would be translated by a cultivated sign-talker, with Colonel Mallery’s remarks thereon:—

“ ‘Once, man one, sons two. Son younger say, Father property your divide: part my, me give. Father so.—Son each, part his give. Days few after, son younger money all take, country far go, money spend, wine drink, food nice eat. Money by and by gone all. Country everywhere food little: son hungry very. Go seek man any, me hire. Gentleman meet. Gentleman son send field swine feed. Son swine husks eat, see—self husks eat want—cannot—husks him give nobody. Son thinks, say, father my, servants many, bread enough, part give away can—I none—starve, die. I decide: Father I go to, say I bad, God disobey, you disobey—name my hereafter son, no—I unworthy. You me work give servant like. So son begin go. Father far look: son see, pity, run, meet, embrace. Son father say, I bad, you disobey, God disobey—name my hereafter son, no—I unworthy. But father servants call, command robe best bring, son put on, ring finger put on, shoes feet put on, calf fat bring, kill. We all eat, merry. Why? Son this my formerly dead, now alive: formerly lost, now found: rejoice.’

“It may be remarked, not only from this example, but from general study, that the verb ‘to be’ as a copula or predicant does not have any place in sign-language. It is shown, however, among deaf-mutes as an assertion of presence or existence by a sign of stretching the arms and hands forward and then adding the sign of affirmation. Time as referred to in the conjunctions when and then is not gestured. Instead of the form, ‘When I have had a sleep I will go to the river,’ or ‘After sleeping I will go to the river,’ both deaf-mutes and Indians would express the intention by ‘Sleep done, I river go.’ Though time present, past, and future is readily expressed in signs, it is done once for all in the connection to which it belongs, and once established is not repeated by any subsequent intimation, as is commonly the case in oral speech. Inversion, by which the object is placed before the action, is a striking feature of the language of deaf-mutes, and it appears to follow the natural method by which objects and actions enter into the mental conception. In striking a rock the natural conception is not first of the abstract idea of striking or of sending a stroke into vacancy, seeing nothing and having no intention of striking anything in particular, when suddenly a rock rises up to the mental vision and receives the blow; the order is that the man sees the rock, has the intention to strike it, and does so; therefore he gestures, ‘I rock strike.’ For further illustration of this subject, a deaf-mute boy, giving in signs the compound action of a man shooting a bird from a tree, first represented the tree, then the bird as alighting upon it, then a hunter coming toward and looking at it, taking aim with a gun, then the report of the latter and the falling and the dying gasps of the bird. These are undoubtedly the successive steps that an artist would have taken in drawing the picture, or rather successive pictures, to illustrate the story. … Degrees of comparison are frequently expressed, both by deaf-mutes and by Indians, by adding to the generic or descriptive sign that for ‘big’ or ‘little.’ Damp would be ‘wet—little’; cool, ‘cold—little’; hot, ‘warm—much.’ The amount or force of motion also often indicates corresponding diminution or augmentation, but sometimes expresses a different shade of meaning, as is reported by Dr. Matthews with reference to the sign for bad and contempt. This change in degree of motion is, however, often used for emphasis only, as is the raising of the voice in speech or italicizing and capitalizing in print. The Prince of Wied gives an instance of a comparison in his sign for excessively hard, first giving that for hard, viz.: Open the left hand, and strike against it several times with the right (with the backs of the fingers). Afterwards he gives hard, excessively, as follows: Sign for hard, then place the left index finger upon the right shoulder, at the same time extend and raise the right arm high, extending the index finger upward, perpendicularly.”

I have entered thus at some length into the syntax of gesture-language because this language is, as I have before remarked, the most natural or immediate mode of giving expression to the logic of recepts; it is the least symbolic or conventional phase of the sign-making faculty, and therefore a study of its method is of importance in such a general survey of this faculty as we are endeavouring to take. The points in the above analysis to which I would draw attention as the most important are, the absence of the copula and of many other “parts of speech,” the order in which ideas are expressed, the pictorial devices by which the ideas are presented in as concrete a form as possible, and the fact that no ideas of any high abstraction are ever expressed at all.[76]