LANGUAGE
AND
TIHE STUDY OF LANGUAGE:
TWELVE LECTURES
(IN THB
PRINCIPLES OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE
BY
WILLIAM DWIGHT WHITNEY,
TROPESSOR OP SANSKRIT AND INSTRUCTOR IN MODERN LANGUlAGEf
IN YALE COLLEGE.
FIFTH EDITION.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S  SONS,
743 AND 745 BROADWAY.




Rntered accrding to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
(KARL]ES SCRIBNER & COMPANY,
Si the Clerrs f fice of the District Court of thecUnited asttes for the
F&Lthern District of NAw York..TROW' S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING CO.,
PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS,
2o5-2I3 East I2th St.,
NEW YORK.




TO
JAMES HADLEY,
PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN YALE COLL]I;L
THIS FRUIT OF STUDIES WHICH HE HAS DONE MORE
THAN ANY ONE ELSE TO ENCOURAGE AND AID
S8 AFFECTIOYATELY INSCRIBED.








PREFACE.
THE main argument of the following work was first
drawn out in the form of six lectures "On the Principles
of Linguistic Science," delivered at the Smithsonian Institution, in Washington, during the. month of March, 1864.
Of these, a brief abstract was printed in the Annual
Report of the Institution published in the same. year.*
In the following winter (December, 1864, and January,
1865) they were again delivered as one of the regular
courses before the Lowell Institute, in Boston, having
been expanded into a series of twelve lectures. They are
now laid before a wider public, essentially in their form as
there presented. But they have been in the mean time
carefully rewritten, and have suffered a not inconsiderable
further expansion, as the removal of the enforced Pro.
crustean limit, of sixty minutes to a lecture, has given
opportunity to discuss with greater fulness important
points in the general argument which had before come off
with insufficient treatment. The chief matter of theory
upon which my opinion has undergone any noteworthy
modification is the part to be attributed to the onomatopoetic principle in the first steps of language-making (see
the eleventh lecture). To this principle, at each revision
* Report for 1863, pp. 95-116.
( v)




V1                     PREFACE.
of my views, I have been led to assign a higher and
higher efficiency, partly by the natural effect of a deeper
study and clearer appreciation of the necessary conditions
of the case, partly under the influence of valuable works
upon the subject, recently issued.*  In the general style
of presentation I have not thought it worth while to make
any change-not even to cast out those recapitulations
and repetitions which are well-nigh indispensable in a
course of lectures meant for oral delivery, though they
may and should be avoided in a work intended from the
outset for continuous reading and study.
More than one of the topics here treated have been
from time to time worked up separately, as communications to the American Oriental Society, and are concisely
reported in its Proceedings; also, within no long time
past, I have furnished, by request, to one or two of our
leading literary periodicals, papers upon special themes
in linguistic science which were, to no small extent,
virtual extracts from this work.
The principal facts upon which my reasonings are
founded have been for some time past the commonplaces
of comparative philology, and it was needless to refer for
them to any particular authorities: where I have consciously taken results recently won by an individual, and to
be regarded as his property, I have been careful to
acknowledge it. It is, however, my duty and my pleasure
here to confess my special obligations to those eminent
masters in linguistic science, Professors Heinrich Steinthal
of Berlin and August Schleicher of Jena, whose works t
* I will refer only to Mr Farrar's "Chapters on Language" (London,
1865), and to Professor Wedgwood's little book, " On the Origin of Lan.
guage" (London, 1866).
t As chief among them, I would mention Steinthal's "-Charakteristik dui




PREFACE.                        vii
I hate had constantly upon my table, and have freely
consulted, deriving from them great instruction and
enlightenment, even when I have been obliged to differ
most strongly from some of their theoretical views. Upon
them I have been dependent, above all, in preparing my
eighth and ninth lectures;* my independent acquaintance
with the languages of various type throughout the world
being far from sufficient to enable me to describe them at
first hand.  I have also borrowed here and there an illustration from the " Lectures on the Science of Language "
of Professor Max Miiller, which are especially rich in such
material.
To my friend Professor Fitz-Edward Hall, Librarian
of the East India Office in London, I have to return my
thanks for his kindness in undertaking the burdensome
task of reading the revise of the sheets, as they went
through the press.
It can hardly admit of question that at least so much
knowledge of the nature, history, and classifications of
language as is here presented ought to be included in
every scheme of higher education, even for those who do
not intend to become special students in comparative philology. Much more necessary, of course, is it to those who
cherish such an intention.  it is, I am convinced, a mistake to commence at once upon a course of detailed oza
parative philology with pupils who have only enjoyed the
ordinary training in the classical or the modern languages,
Hauptsichlichsten Typen des Sprachbaues" (Berlin, 1860), and Schleicher's
"Compendium der Vergleichenden Grammatik der Indogermanischen Sprachen " (Weimar, 1861; a new edition has appeared this year): other writings
of both authors, of less extent and importance, are referred to by name in the
marginal notes upon the text.
* I should mention also my indebtedness, as regards the Semitic languages, to the admirable work of M. Ernest Renan, the " Histoire G~nerale
es Langu3s Semitiques " (seconde 6dition, Paris, 1858).




Viii                  PREFACE.
or in both. They are liable either to fail of apprehending
the value and interest of the infinity of particulars into
which they are plunged, or else to become wholly absorbed
in them, losing sight of the grand truths and principles
which underlie and give significance to their work, and
the recognition of which ought to govern its course
throughout: perhaps even coming to combine with acuteness and erudition in etymological investigation views
respecting the nature of language and# the relations of
languages of a wholly crude or fantastic character. I am
not without hope that this book may be found a convenient and serviceable manual for use in our higher institutions of learning. I have made its substance the basis of
my own instruction in the science of language, in Yale College, for some years past; and, as it appears to me, with
gratifying success. In order to adapt it to such a purpose, I have endeavoured to combine a strictly logical
and scientific plan with a popular mode of handling, and
with such illustration of the topics treated as should be
easily and universally apprehensible. If, however, the
lecture style should be found too discursive and argumentative for a text-book of instruction, I may perhaps
be led hereafter to prepare another work for that special
use.
YALE COLLEGE,
AIew Haven, Conn.,.dAgust, 1867.




CONTENTS.
I. Introductory: history, material, objects of linguistic science;
plan of these lectures. Fundamental inquiry. How we
acquired our speech, and what it was; differences of individual speech. What is the English language; how kept'
in existence; its changes. Modes and causes of linguistic
change..........
LI. Nature of the force which produces the changes of language;
its modes of action. Language an institution, of historical growth; its study a moral science.  Analogies of
linguistic science with the physical sciences. Its methods
historical. Etymology its foundation. Analysis of compound words. Genesis of affixes. Nature of all words as
produced by actual composition........
III. Phonetic change; its ground, action on compound words,
part in word-making, and destructive effects.  Replacement of one mode of formal distinction by another.
Extension of analogies.  Abolition of valuable distinctions.  Conversion of sounds into one another.  Physical
characters of alphabetic sounds; physical scheme of the
English alphabet.   Obsolescence and loss of words.Changes of meaning; their ground and methods. Variety
of meanings of one word. Synonyms. Conversions of
physical into spiritual meaning. Attenuation of meaning; production of form-words. Variety of derivatives
from one root. Unreflectiveness of the process of making
names and forms. Conceptions antedate their names.
Reason of a name historical, and founded in convenience.
not necessity. Insignificance of derivation in practical
use of language...........
&V. Varying rate and kind of linguistic growth, and causes affect.
ing it.  Modes of growth of the English language.  In.
(ix)




X                            CONTENTS.
L?~CT.                                                           PAtG
fluences conservative of linguistic identity   Causes producing dialects; causes maintaining, producing, or extending homogeneity of speech.  Illustrations: history
of the German language; of the Latin; of the English.
The English language in America.......  1b6
V. Erroneous views of tVie relations of dialects.   Dialectic
variety implies original unity. Effect of cultivation on a
language. Grouping of languages by relationship. Nearer
and remoter relations of the English. Constitution of the
Indo-European family. Proof of its unity. Impossibility
of determining the place and time of its founders; their
culture and customs, inferred from their restored vocabulary..........17
VI. languages and literatures of the Germanic, Slavonic, Lithuanic, Celtic, Italic, Greek, Iranian, and Indian branches
of Indo-European speech. Interest of the family and its
study; historical importance of the Indo-European races;
their languages the basis of linguistic science. Method
of linguistic research.  Comparative philology.  Errors
of linguistic method or its application...  209
VI1. Beginnings of Indo-European language. Actuality of linguis
tic  analysis.   Roots, pronorninal and  verbal;  their
character as the historical germs of our language; development of inflective speech from them.  Production of
declensional, conjugational, and  derivative  apparatus,
and of the parts of speech.  Relation of synthetic and
analytic forms. General character and course of inflective
development..........  249
NIII. Families  of languages. how  established.   Characteristic
features of Indo-European language. Semitic family: its
constitution, historic value, literatures, and linguistic
character   Relation of Semitic to'Indo-European. language.   Scythian or'Altaic family: its five branches:
their history, literatures, and character.  Unity of the
family somewhat doubtful......  288
IX  Uncertainties of genetic classification of languages.  "Turanian" family. Dravidian group. North-eastern Asiatic.
Monosyllabic tongues: Chinese, Farther Indian, Tibetan,
etc. Malay-Polynesian and Melanesian families Egyptian
language and its asserted kindred: Hamitic family. Languages of southern and central Africa.  Languages of
America: problem  of derivation  of American  races..'olated tongues: Basque, Caucasian, etc..           822




CONTENTS.
LECT.                                                       PAG -
X. Classification of languages.  Morphological classifications;
their  defects.   Schleicher's  morphological notation.
Classification by general rank. Superior value of genetic
division.  Bearing of linguistic science on ethnology.
Comparative advantages and disadvantages of linguistic
and physical evidence of race. Indo-European language
and race mainly coincident. Difficulty of the ethnological problem. Inability of language to prove either unity
or variety of human species. Accidental correspondences:
futility of root comparisons.......  35G
XI. Origin of language.  Conditions of the problem.  In what
sense language is of divine origin. Desire of communication the immediate impulse to its production.  Language and thought not identical.  Thought possible
without language. Difference of mental action in man
and lower animals. Language the result and means of
analytic thought, the aid of higher thought. The voice
as instrument of expression. Acts and qualities the first
things named. The'bow-wow,''pooh-pooh,' and'dingdong' theories.  Onomatopoeia the true source of first
utterances. Its various modes and limitations. Its traces
mainly obliterated. Remaining obscurities of the problem. 395
XII. Why men alone can speak. Value of speech to man. Training involved in the acquisition of language. Reflex in'
fluence of language on mind and history. Writing the
natural aid and complement of speech.  Fundamental
idea of written speech. Its development. Symbolic and
mnemonic objects. Picture writing. Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Chinese writing. Cuneiform characters..Syllabic modes
of writing. The Phenician alphabet and its descendants.
Greek and Latin alphabets. English alphabet. English
orthography. Rank of the English among languages... 4W8








LANGUAGE
AND
THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE.
LECTURE I.
Introductory: history, material, objects of linguistic science; plan of
these lectures. Fundamental inquiry. How we acquired our speech,
and what it was; differences of individual speech. What is the English
language; how kept in existence; its changes. Modes and causes of
linguistic change.
THOSE who are engaged in the investigation of language
have but recently begun to claim for their study the rank
and title of a science. Its development as such has been
wholly the work of the present century, although its germs
go back to a much more ancient date. It has had a history,
in fact, not unlike that of the other sciences of observation
and induction-for example, geology, chemistry, astronomy,
physics-which the intellectual activity of modern times has
built up upon the scanty observations and crude inductions
of other days. Men have always been learning languages,
in greater or less measure; adding to their own mothertongues the idioms of the races about them, for the practical
end of communication with those races, of access to their
thought and knowledge.  There has, too, hardly been a time
when some have not been led on from the acquisition of
languages to the study of language. The interest of this
precious and wonderful possession of man, at once the sign
and the means of his superiority to the rest of the animal!




2                     HISTORY OF                [LEOT.
creation, has in all ages strongly impressed the reflecting and
philosophical, and impelled them to speculate respecting its
nature, its history, and its origin.  Researches into the
genealogies and affinities of words have exercised the in.
genuity of numberless generations of acute and inquiring
minds. Moreover, the historical results attainable by such
researches, the light cast by them upon the derivation
and connection of races, have never wholly escaped recognition. The general objects and methods of linguistic
study are far too obviously suggested, and of far too engaging
interest, not to have won a certain share of regard, from
the time when men first began to inquire into things and
their causes.
Nothing, however, that deserved the name of a science
was the result of these older investigations in the domain of
language, any more than in those of chemistry and astronomy.
Hasty generalizations, baseless hypotheses, inconclusive deductions, were as rife in the former department of study as
they were in the two latter while yet passing through the
preliminary stages of alchemy and astrology. The difficulty
was in all the cases nearly the same; it lay in the paucity of
observed facts, and in the faulty position which the inquirer
assumed toward them. There had been no sufficient collection and classification of phenomena, to serve as the basis of
inductive reasoning, for the establishment of sound methods
and the elaboration of true results; and along with this, and
partly in consequence of it, prejudice and assumption had
usurped the place of induction. National self-sufficiency and
inherited prepossession long helped to narrow the limits
imposed by unfavourable circumstances upon the extent of
linguistic knowledge, restraining that liberality of inquiry
which is indispensable to the growth of a science. Ancient
peoples were accustomed to think each its own dialect the
only true language; other tongues were to them mere bar.
barous jargons, unworthy of study. Modern nations, in
virtue of their history, their higher culture, and their Christianity, have been much less uncharitably exclusive; ana
their reverence for the two classical idioms, the Greek and
Latin, and for the language of the Old Testament, the He.




L.)               LINGUISTIC SCIENCE.               a
brew, so widened their linguistic horizon as gradually to prepare the way for juster and more comprehensive views of
the character and history of human speech. The restless
and penetrating spirit of investigation, finally, of' the nine.
teenth century, with its insatiable appetite for facts, its
tendency to induction, and its practical recognition of the
unity of human interests, and of the absolute value of all
means of knowledge respecting human conditions and history, has brought about as rapid a development in linguistic
study as in the kindred branches of physical study to which
we have already referred. The truth being once recognized
that no dialect, however rude and humble, is without worth,
or without a bearing upon the understanding of even the
most polished and cultivated tongues, all that followed was a
matter of course. Linguistic material was gathered in from
every quarter, literary, commercial, and philanthropic activity
combining to facilitate its collection and thorough examination. Ancient records were brought to light and deciphered; new languages were dragged from obscurity and
made accessible to study.
The recognition, not long to be deferred when once attention was turned in the right direction, of the special relationship of the principal languages of Europe with one
another and with the languages of south-western Asia-the
establishment of the Indo-European family of languages —
was the turning-point in this history, the true beginning of
linguistic science. The great mass of dialects of the family,
descendants of a common parent, covering a period of four
thousand years with their converging lines of development,
supplied just the ground which the science needed to grow
up upon, working out its methods, getting fully into view
its ends, and devising the means of their attainment. The
true mode of fruitful investigation was discovered; it appeared that a wide and searching comparison of kindred
idioms was the way in which to trace out their history, and
arrive at a real comprehension of the life and growth of language. Comparative philology, then, became the handmaid
of ethnology and history, the forerunner and founder of the
science of human speech.
1*




HISTORY OF                 [LECT,
No single circumstance more powerfully aided the onward
movement than the introduction to Western scholars of the
Sanskrit, the ancient and sacred dialect of India. Its exceeding -age, its remarkable conservation of primitive
material and forms, its unequalled transparency of structure,
give it an indisputable right to the first place among the
tongues of the Indo-European family.  Upon their comparison, already fruitfully begun, it cast a new and welcome
light, displaying clearly their hitherto obscure relations,
rectifying their doubtful etymologies, illustrating the laws
of research which must be followed in their study, and
in that of all other languages.  What linguistic science
might have become without such a basis as was afforded it
in the Indo-European dialects, what Indo-European philology
might have become without the help of the Sanskrit, it were
idle to speculate: certain it is that they could not have
grown so rapidly, or reached for a long time to come the
state of advancement in which we now already behold them.
As a historical fact, the scientific study of human speech is
founded upon the comparative philology of the Indo-European languages, and this acknowledges the Sanskrit as its
most valuable means and aid.
But to draw out in detail the history of growth of linguistic science downto the present time,with particular notice
of its successive stages, and with due mention of the scholars
who have helped it on, does not lie within the plan of these
lectures. Interesting as the task might be found, its execution would require more time than we can spare from topics
of more essential consequence.* A brief word or two is all
we can afford to the subject. Germany is, far more than
any other country, the birthplace and home of the study of
language.  There was produced, at the beginning of this
century, the most extensive and important of the preliminary collections of material, specimens of dialects with rude
attempt at their  classification - the "Mithridates" of
Adelung and Vater.  There Jacob Grimm gave the first
exemplification on a grand scale of the value and power of
* For many interesting details, see Professor Max Miiller's Lectures on
the Science of Language, first series, third and fourth lectures.




I.]               LINGUISTIO SIENCI.                i
the comparative method of investigation in language, in his
grammar of the Germanic dialects, a work of gigantic labour,
in which each dialect was made to explain the history and cha.
racter of all, and all of each. There-what was of yet greater
consequence-Bopp laid, in 1816, the foundation of Indo-European comparative philology, by his " Conjugation-system of
the Sanskrit Language, as compared with the Greek, Latin,
Persian, and German; " following it later with his Comparative Grammar of all the principal languages of the IndoEuropean family-a work which, more than any other, gave
shape and substance to the science. There, too, the labours
of such men as the Schlegels, Pott, and Wilhelm von Humboldt, especially of the last-named, extended its view and
generalized its principles, making it no longer an investigation of the history of a single department of human speech,
but a systematic and philosophical treatment of the phenomena of universal language and their causes. The names of
Rask, too, the Danish scholar and traveller, and of Bur.
nouf, the eminent French savant, must not be passed unnoticed among those of the founders of linguistic science.
Indeed, how ripe the age was for the birth of this new
branch of human knowledge, how natural an outgrowth
it was of the circumstances amid which it arose, is shown by
the fact that its most important methods were worked out
and applied, more or less fully, at nearly the same time, by
several independent scholars, of different countries-by
Rask, Bopp, Grimm, Pott, Burnouf.
A host of worthy rivals and followers of the men whose
names we have noted have arisen in all parts of Europe, and
even in America, to continue the work which these had
begun; and by their aid the science has already attained a
degree of advancement that is truly astonishing, considering
its so recent origin. Though still in its young and rapidly
growing stage, with its domain but just surveyed and only
partially occupied, its basis is yet laid broadly and deeply
enough, its methods and laws are sure enough, the objects it
aims at and the results it is yielding are sufficiently important, in themselves and in their bearing upon other branches
of human knowledge, to warrant it in challenging a place




6                MATERIAL AND OBJECTS            [LEAC
among the sciences, as not the least worthy, though one
of the youngest, of their sisterhood, and to give it a claim
which may not be disregarded to the attention of every scholar, and of every well-educated person.
The material and subject of linguistic science is language,
in its entirety; all the accessible forms of human speech, in
their infinite variety, whether still living in the minds and
mouths of men, or preserved only in written documents, or
carved on the scantier but more imperishable records of
brass and stone. It has a field and scope limited to no age,
and to no portion of mankind. The dialects of the obscurest
and most humbly endowed races are its care, as well as those
of the leaders in the world's history.  Whenever and wher.
ever a sound has dropped from the lips of a human being,
to signalize to others the movements of his spirit, this science
would fain take it up and study it, as having a character and
office worthy of attentive examination. Every fact of every
language, in the view of the linguistic student, calls for his
investigation, since only in the light of all can any be completely understood. To assemble, arrange, and explain the
whole body of linguistic phenomena, so as thoroughly to comprehend them, in each separate part and under all aspects,
is his endeavour. His province, while touching, on the one
hand, upon that of the philologist, or student of human
thought and knowledge as deposited in literary records, and,
on the other hand, upon that of the mere linguist, or learner
of languages for their practical use, and while exchanging
friendly aid with both of these, is yet distinct from either.
He deals with language as the instrument of thought, its
means of expression, not its record; he deals with simple
words and phrases, not with sentences and texts. He aims
to trace out the inner life of language, to discover its origin,
to follow its successive steps of growth, and to deduce the
laws that govern its mutations, the recognition of which
shall account to him for both the unity and the variety of
its present manifested phases; and, along with this, to apprehend the nature of language as a human endowment, its relation to thought, its influence upon the development of in.




t.]             OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE.              Y
tellect and the growth of knowledge, and the history of mind
and of knowledge as reflected in it.
The exceeding interest of this whole class of inquiries is
at first sight manifest, but it grows to our sense in measure
as we reflect upon it. We are apt to take language, like so
many other things of familiar daily use, as a thing of course,
without appreciating the mystery and deep significance
which belong to it. We clothe our thoughts without effort
or reflection in words and phrases, having regard only to the
practical ends of expression and communication, and the
power conferred by them: we do not think of the long history, of changes of form and changes of signification, through
which each individual vocable employed by us has passed, of
the labour which its origination and gradual elaboration has
cost to successive generations of thinkers and speakers. We
do not meditate upon the importance to us of this capacity
of expression, nor consider how entirely the history of man
would have been changed had he possessed no such faculty;
how little of that enlightenment which we boast would have
been ours, if our ancestors had left no spoken memorial of
their mental and spiritual acquisitions; how, in short, with.
out speech, the noble endowments of our nature would have
remained almost wholly undeveloped and useless. It is, indeed, neither to be expected nor desired that our minds
should be continually penetrated with a realizing sense of
the marvellous character of language; but we should be inexcusable if we neglected altogether to submit it to such an
examination as should make us understand its nature and
history, and should prepare our minds to grasp by reflection
its whole significance.
These and such as these are the objects most directly
aimed at by the scientific student of language.  But there
are others, of a different character, to which his investigations conduct him hardly less immediately, and which con.
stitute an essential part of the interest which invests them.
It is a truth now almost as familiar as, fifty years ago, it
would have been deemed new and startling, that language
furnishes the principal means of fruitful inquiry into the




8            VALUE OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE.         [LECT,
deeds and fates of mankind during the ages which preet-de
direct historical record. It enables us to determine, in the
main, both the fact and the degree of relationship subsist.
ing among the different divisions of mankind, and thus to
group them together into families, the members of which
must have once set forth from a common home, with a com.
mon character and a common culture, however widely separ.
ated, and however unlike in manners and institutions, we
may find them to be, when they first come forth into the
light of written history. Upon the study of language is
mainly founded the science of ethnology, the science which
investigates the genealogy of nations. I say, mainly founded, without wishing to depreciate the claims of physical
science in this regard: the relation between linguistic and
physical science, and their joint and respective value to ethnology, will be made the subject of discussion at a point
further on in our inquiries. But language is also pregnant
with information respecting races which lies quite beyond
the reach of physical science: it bears within itself plain
evidences of mental and moral character and capacity, of degree of culture attained, of the history of knowledge, philosophy, and religious opinion, of intercourse among peoples,
and even of the physical circumstances by which those who
speak it have been surrounded.  It is, in brief, a volume of
the most varied historical information to those who know
how to read it and to derive the lessons it teaches.
To survey the whole vast field of linguistic science, taking
even a rapid view of all the facts it embraces and the results
derived from their examination, is obviously beyond our
power in a brief series of lectures like the present. I shall
not, accordingly, attempt a formally systematic presentation
of the subject, laying out its different departments and defining their limits and mutual relations. It will, I am persuaded, be more for our profit to discuss in a somewhat
general and familiar way the fundamental facts in the life of
language, those which exhibit most clearly its character, and
determine the method of its study. We shall thus gain an
insight into the nature of linguistic evidence, see how it is
eli ited from the material containing it, and what and how




1.]           PLAN OF THESE LECTURES.               9
it bas force to prove.  We shall, in short, endeavour to
arrive at an apprehension of the fundamental principles of
the science.  But we shall also find occasion to glance at
the main results accomplished by its means, seeking to understand what language is and what is its value to man, and
to recognize the great truths in human history which it has
been instrumental in establishing.
In order to these ends, we shall first take up one or two
preliminary questions, the discussion of which will show us
how language lives and grows, and how it is to be investigated, and will guide us to an understanding of the place
which its study occupies among the sciences. We shall
then go on to a more detailed examination and illustration
of the processes of linguistic growth, and of the manner in
which they produce the incessant changes of form and content which language is everywhere and always undergoing.
We shall note, further, the various causes which affect the
kind and rate of linguistic change. The result of these
processes of growth, in bringing about the separation of
languages into dialects, will next engage our attention.
This will prepare us for a construction of the group of
dialects, and the family of more distantly related languages,
of which our own English speech is a member, and for an
examination and estimate of the evidence which proves them
related. The extent and importance, historical and linguistic, of this family will be set forth, and its course of development briefly sketched. We shall next pass in review
the other great families into which the known forms of
human speech are divided, noticing their most striking
characteristics. Then will be taken up certain general
questions, of prime interest and importance, suggested by
such a review-as the relative value and authority of lin.
guistic and of physical evidence of race, and the bearing of language upon the ultimate question of the unity or variety of
the human species. Finally, we shall consider the origin of
language, its relation to thought, and its value as an element
in human progress. And a recognition of the aid which it
receives in this last respect from written and recorded
speech will lead us, by way of appendix, to take a cursory




10              METHOD OF TREATMENT.            [LECT,
view of the historical development of the art of writing.
The method which we shall follow will be, as much as
possible, the analytic rather than the synthetic, the inquiring rather than the dogmatic. We shall strive, above
all things, after clearness, and shall proceed always from
that which is well-known or obvious to that which is more
recondite and obscure, establishing principles by induction
from facts which lie within the cognizance of every welleducated person. For this reason, our examples, whether
typical or illustrative, will be especially sought among the
phenomena of our own familiar idiom; since every living
and growing language has that within it which exemplifies
the essential facts and principles belonging to all human
speech. We shall also avoid, as far as is practicable, the
use of figurative, metaphysical, or technical phraseology,
endeavouring to talk the language of plain and homely fact.
Not a little of the mystery and obscurity which, in the
minds of many, invest the whole subject of language, is due
to the common employment respecting it of terms founded
on analogies instead of facts, and calling up the things they
represent surrounded and dimmed by a halo of fancy, instead of presenting sharply cut outlines and distinct lineaments.
The whole subject of linguistic investigation may be con.
veniently summed up in the single inquiry, "Why do we
speak as we do? " The essential character of the study of
language, as distinguished from the study of languages, lies
in this, that it seeks everywhere, not the facts, but the reasons of them; it asks, not how we speak, or should speak,
but for what reason; pursuing its search for reasons back to
the very ultimate facts of human history, and down into the
very depths of human nature. To cover the whole ground
of investigation by this inquiry, it needs to be proposed in
more than one sense; as the most fitting introduction to
our whole discussion, let us put it first in its plainest and
most restricted meaning: namely, why do we ourselves
speak the English as our mother-tongue, or native language,
instead of any other of the thousand varying forms of speech
current among men? It is indeed a simple question, but to




k.]             WHY WE SPEAK ENGLISH.               11
answer t distinctly and truly will lay the best possible
foundation for our further progress, clearing our way of
more than one of the imperfect apprehensions, or the misapprehensions, which are apt to encumber the steps of students
of language.
The general answer is so obvious as hardly to require to
be pointed out: we speak English because we were taught
it by those who surrounded us in our infancy and growing
age. It is our mother-tongue, because we got it from the
lips of our mothers; it is our native language, inasmuch as
we were born, not indeed into the possession of it, but into
the company of those who already spoke it, having learned
it in the same way before us. We were not left to our own
devices, to work out for ourselves the great problem of how
to talk. In our case, there was no development of language
out of our own internal resources, by the reflection of
phenomena in consciousness, or however else we may choose
to describe it; by the action of a natural impulse, shaping
ideas, and creating suitable expression for them. No sooner
were our minds so far matured as to be capable of intelligently associating an idea and its sign, than we learned,
first to recognize the persons and things about us, the most
familiar acts and phenomena of our little world, by the names
which others applied to them, and then to apply to them the
same names ourselves. Thus, most of us learned first of all
to stammer the childish words for' father' and' mother,' put,
for our convenience, in the accents easiest for unpractised
lips to frame. Then, as we grew on, we acquired daily more
and more, partly by direct instruction, partly by imitation:
those who had the care of us contracted their ideas and simplified their speech to suit our weak capacities; they watched
with interest every new vocable which we mastered, corrected our numberless errors, explained what we but half
understood, checked us when we used longer words and
more ambitious phrases than we could employ correctly or
wield adroitly, and drilled us in the utterance of sounds
which come hard to the beginner. The kind and degree of
the training thus given, indeed, varied greatly in different
cases, as did the provision made for the necessary wants of




12                HOW WE ACQUIRED               rLECT,
childhood in respect to other matters; as, foi iJstance, the
food, the dress, the moral nurture.  Just as fome have to
rough their way by the hardest through the scenes of early
life, beaten, half-starved, clad in scanty rags, while yet some
care and provision were wholly indispensable, and no child
could have lived through infancy without them-so, as concerns language, some get but the coarsest and most meagre instruction, and yet instruction enough to help them through
the first stages of learning how to speak. In the least
favourable circumstances, there must have been constantly
about every one of us in our earliest years an amount and
style of speech surpassing our acquirements and beyond our
reach, and our acquisition of language consisted in our appropriating more and more of this, as we were able. In
proportion as our minds grew in activity and power of comprehension, and our knowledge increased, our notions and
conceptions were brought into shapes mainly agreeing with
those which they wore in the minds of those around us,
and received in our usage the appellations to which the latter
were accustomed.  On making acquaintance with certain
liquids, colourless or white, we had not to go through a pro.
cess of observation and study of their properties, in order to
devise suitable titles for them; we were taught that these
were water and milk. The one of them, when standing
stagnant in patches, or rippling between green banks, we
learned to call, according to circumstances and the preference of our instructors, pool or puddle, and brook or river.
An elevation rising blue in the distance, or towering nearer
above us, attracted our attention, and drew from us the staple
inquiry " What is that? "-the answer, " A mountain," or
" A hill," brought to our vocabulary one of the innumerable
additions which it gained in a like way. Along with the
names of external sensible objects, we thus learned also that
practical classification of them which our language recog.
nizes: we learned to distinguish brook and river; hill and
mountain; tree, bush, vine, shrub, and plant; and so on, iL
cases without number. In like manner, among the various
acts which we were capable of performing, we were taught
to designate certain ones by specific titles much reproo4




L.]              OUR MOTHER-TONGUE.                13
for instance, doubtless made us early understand what was
meant by cry, strike, push, kick, bite, and other names for
misdeeds incident to even the best-regulated childhood.
How long our own mental states might have remained a
confused and indistinct chaos to our unassisted reflection,
we do not know; but we were soon helped to single out and
recognize by appropriate appellations certain ones among
them: for example, a warm feeling of gratification and attachment we were made to signify by the expression love;
an inferior degree of the same feeling by like; and their
opposite by hate.  Long before any process of analysis and
combination carried on within ourselves would have given
us the distinct conceptions of true and false, of good and
tnaughty, they were carefully set before us, and their due apprehension was enforced by faithful admonition, or by something yet more serious. And not only were we thus assisted
to an intelligent recognition of ourselves and the world immediately about us, but knowledge began at once to be
communicated to us respecting things beyond our reach.
The appellations of hosts of objects, of places, of beings,
which we had not seen, and perhaps have not even yet seen,
we learned by hearing or by reading, and direct instruction
enabled us to attach to them some characteristic idea, more
or less complete and adequate. Thus, we had not to cross
the ocean, and to coast about and traverse a certain island
beyond it, in order to know that there is a country Englant,
and to hold it apart, by specific attributes, from other countries of which we obtained like knowledge by like means.
But enough of this illustration. It is already sufficiently
clear that the acquisition of language was one of the steps
of our earliest education. We did not make our own tongue,
or any part of it; we neither selected the objects, acts,
mental states, relations, which should be separately desig.
nated, nor devised their distinctive designations.  We simply
received and appropriated, as well as we could, whatever
our instructors were pleased to set before us. Independence
of the general usages of speech was neither encouraged nor
tolerated in us; nor did we feel tempted toward independ.
eace, Our object was to communicate with those among




14                HOW WE ACQUIRED               [LECT.
whom cur lot was cast, to understand them and be understood by them, to learn what their greater wisdom and
experience could impart to us. In order to this, we had to
think and talk as they did, and we were content to do so.
Why such and such a combination of sounds was applied to
designate such and such an idea was to us a matter of utter
indifference; all we knew or cared to know was that others
so applied it. Questions of etymology, of fitness of appellation, concerned us not. What was it to us, for instance,
when the answer came back to one of our childish inquiries
after names, that the word mountain was imported into our
tongue out of the Latin, through the Norman French, and
was originally an adjective, meaning'hilly, mountainous,'
while hill had once a g in it, indicating its relationship with
the adjective high? We recognized no tie between any word
and the idea represented by it excepting a mental association
which we had ourselves formed, under the guidance, and in
obedience to the example, of those about us. We do, indeed,
when a little older, perhaps, begin to amuse ourselves with
inquiring into the reasons why this word means that thing,
and not otherwise: but it is only for the satisfaction of our
curiosity; if we fail to find a reason, or if the reason be
found trivial and insufficient, we do not on that account reject the word. Thus every vocable was to us an arbitrary
and conventional sign: arbitrary, because any one of a thousand other vocables could have been just as easily learned
by us and associated with the same idea; conventional,
because the one we acquired had its sole ground and sanc.
tion in the consenting usage of the community of which we
formed a part.
Race and blood, it is equally evident, had nothing.to do
directly with determining our language. English descent
would never have made us talk English. No matter who
were our ancestors; if those about us had said wasser and
milch, or eau and lait, or hildor and gala, instead of water
and milk, we should have done the same. We could just as
readily have accustomed ourselves to say lieben or aimer or
philein, as love, wahrheit or vgrite or aletheia, as truth. And
so in every other case. An American or English mother,




1.)              OUR MOTrER-TONGUE.                 1s
anxious that her child should grow up duly accomplitshed,
gives it a French nurse, and takes care that no English be
spoken in its presence; and not all the blood of all the
Joneses can save it from talking French first, as if this were
indeed its own mother-tongue. An infant is taken alive
from the arms of its drowned mother, the only waif cast
upon the shore from the wreck of a strange vessel; and it
learns the tongue of its foster-parents; no outbreak of
natural and hereditary speech ever betrays from what land
it derived its birth. The child of a father and mother of
different race and speech learns the tongue of either, as
circumstances and their choice may determine; or it learns
both, and is equally at home in them, hardly knowing
which to call its native language. The bands of Africans,
stolen from their homes and imported into America, lost in
a generation their Congo or Mendi, and acquired from their
fellow-slaves a rude jargon in which they could communicate
with one another and with their masters. The Babel of
dialects brought every year to our shores by the thousands
of foreigners who come to seek a new home among us, dis.
appear in as brief a time, or are kept up only where those
who speak them herd together in separate communities.
The Irish peasantry, mingled with and domineered over by
English colonists, governed under English institutions, feeling the whole weight, for good and for evil, of a superior
English civilization, incapacitated from rising above a condition of poverty and ignorance without command of English
speech, unlearn by degrees their native Celtic tongue, and
adopt the dialect of the ruling and cultivated class.
No one, I am confident, can fail to allow that this is a
true account of the process by which we acquire our " mothertongue." Every one recognizes, as the grand advantage connected with the use of language, the fact that in it and by it
whatever of truth and knowledge each generation has learned
or worked out can be made over into the possession of the
generation following. It is not necessary that each of us
study the world for himself, in order to apprehend and
classify the varied objects it contains, with their qualities
and relations, and invent designations for them. This has




16              PECULIARITIES OF FORM             rLE(C.
been dor e by those who came before us, and we enter into
the fruits of their labours.  It is only the first man, before
whom every beast of the field and every fowl of the air must
present itself, to see what he will call it; whatever he calls
any living creature, that is the name thereof, not to himself
alone, but to his family and descendants, who are content to
style each as their father had done before them.
Our acquisition of English, however, has as yet been but
partially and imperfectly described.
In the first place, the English which we thus learn is of
that peculiar form or local variety which is talked by our instructors and models. It is, indeed, possible that one may
have been surrounded from birth by those, and those only,
whose speech is wholly conformedt_     pgtandards;
then it will have been, at least, his own fault if he has
learned aught but the purest and most universally accepted
English. But such cases cannot be otherwise than rare. For,
setting aside the fact that all are not agreed as to whose
usage forms the unexceptionable standard, nothing can be
more certain than that few, on either side of the ocean, know
and follow it accurately.  Not many of us can escape acquiring in our youth some tinge of local dialect, of slang
characteristic of grade or occupation, of personal peculiarities, even, belonging to our initiators into the mysteries of
speech.  These may be mere inelegancies of pronunciation,
appearing in individual words or in the general tone of utterance, like the nasal twang, and the flattening of ou into
dau, which common fame injuriously ascribes to the Yankee;
or they may be ungrammatical modes of expression, or uncouth turns and forms of construction; or favourite recur.
rent phrases, such as Iguess, I calculate, I reckon, I expect,
you know, each of which has its own region of prevalence;
or colloquialisms and vulgarisms, which ought to hide their
heads in good English society; or words of only dialectic
currency, which the general language does not recognize.
Any or all of these or of their like we innocently learn along
with the rest of our speech, not knowing how to distinguish
the evil from the good. And often, as some of us know to
our cost, errors and infelicities are thus sc thoroughly




I.]             OF EACH ONE'S ENGLISH.               17
wrought into our minds, as parts of our habitual modes of
expression, that not all the care and instruction of after life
can rid us of them. How many men of culture and
eminent ability do we meet with, who exhibit through life
the marks of a defective or vicious early training in their
native tongue! The dominion of hatbit is not less powerful
in language than in anything else that we acquire and practise. It is not alone true that he who has once thoroughly
learned English is thereby almost disqualified from ever
attaining a native facility, correctness, and elegance in any
foreign tongue; one may also so thoroughly learn a bad
style of English as never to be able to ennoble it into the
best and most approved form of his native speech. Yet,
with us, the influences which tend to repress and eradicate
local peculiarities and individual errors are numerous and
powerful. One of the most effective among them is school
instruction. It is made an important part of our education
to learn to speak and write correctly. The pupil of a faiths.
ful and competent instructor is~ taught to read and pronounce, to frame sentences with the mouth and with the
pen, in a manner accordant with that which is accepted
among the well-educated everywhere. Social intercourse i,
a cultivating agency hardly less important, and more enduring in its action; as long as we live, by associating with
those who speak correctly, we are shown our own faults, and
at the same time prompted and taught to correct them.
Reading-which is but another form of such intercourse —
consultation of authorities, self-impelled study in various
forms, help the work. Our speech is improved and perfected, as it was first acquired, by putting ourselves in the
position of learners, by following the example of those who
speak better than we do. He who is really in earnest to
complete his mastery of his mother-tongue may hope for
final success, whatever have been his early disadvantages;
just as one may acquire a foreign tongue, like German or
French, with a degree of perfection depending only on his
opportunities, his capacity,his industry, and the length of time
he devotes to the study.
Again even when the process of training which we have
2




18               LIMITATIONS OF EXTENT           [LEOC,
described gives general correctness and facility, it is far from
conferring universal command of the resources of the Eng.
lish tongue. This is no grand indivisible unity, whereof tho
learner acquires all or none; it is an aggregation of particu.
lars, and each one appropriates more or less of them, according to his means and ability. The vocabulary which the
young child has acquired the power to use is a very scanty
one; it includes only the most indispensable part of speech,
names for the commonest objects, the most ordinary and
familiar conceptions, the simplest relations. You can talk
with a child only on a certain limited range of subjects; a
book not written especially for his benefit is in great part
unintelligible to him: he has not yet learned its signs fol
thought, and they must be translated into others with
wh -tichie is acquainted; or the thought itself is beyond the
reach of his apprehension, the statement is outside the sphere
of his knowledge. But in this regard we are all of us more
or less children. Who ever yet got through learning his
mother-tongue, and could say, " The work is done? " The
encyclopedic English language, as we may term it, the English of the great dictionaries, contains more than a hundred
thousand words. And these are only a selection out of a
greater mass. If all the signs for thought employed for
purposes of communication by those who have spoken and
who speak no other tongue than ours were brought together,
if all obsolete, technical, and dialectic words were gathered
in, which, if they are not English, are of no assignable spoken
tongue, the number mentioned would be vastly augmented.
Out of this immense mass, it has been reckoned by careful
observers that from three to five thousand answer all the
ordinary ends of familiar intercourse, even among the cultivated; and a considerable portion of the English-speaking
community, including the lowest and most ignorant class,
never learn to use even so many as three thousand: what
they do acquire, of course, being, like the child's vocabulary,
the most necessary part of the language, signs for the commonest and simplest ideas. To a nucleus of this character,
every artisan, though otherwise uninstructed, must add the
technical language of his own craft-names for tools, and




I.]             OF EACH ONE'S ENGLIXSa.             19
processes, and products which his every-day experience
makes familiar to him, but of which the vast majority, perhaps, of those outside his own line of life know nothing,
Ignorant as he may be, he will talk to you of a host of mat.
ters which you shall not understand.  No insignificant part
of the hundred-thousand-word list is made up of selections
from such technical vocabularies. Each department of labour,
of art, of science, has its special dialect, fully known only to
those who have made themselves masters in that department.
The world requires of every well-informed and educated
person a certain amount of knowledge in many special de.
partments, along with a corresponding portion of the lan.
guage belonging to each: but he would be indeed a marvel
of many-sided learning who had mastered them all. Who
is there among us that will not find, on every page of the
comprehensive dictionaries now in vogue, words which are
strange to him, which need defining to his apprehension,
which he could not be sure of employing in the right place
and connection? And this, not in the technical portions
only of our vocabulary. There are words, or meanings of
words, no longer in familiar use, antiquated or obsolescent,
which yet may not be denied a place in the present English
tongue. There are objects which almost never fall under
the notice of great numbers of people, or of whole classes of
the community, and to whose names, accordingly, when met
with, these are unable to attach any definite idea. There
are cognitions, conceptions, feelings, which have not come
up in the minds of all, which all have not had occasion and
acquired power to express. There are distinctions, in every
department of thought, which all have not learned to draw
and designate. Moreover, there are various styles of expression for the same thing, which are not at every one's com.
mand. One writer or speaker has great ease and copious.
ness of diction; for all his thoughts he has a variety of
phrases to choose among; he lays them out before us in
b.eautiful elaboration, in clear and elegant style, so that to
follow and understand him is like floating with the current.
Another, with not less wealth of knowledge and clearness
of judgment, is cramped and awkward in his use of language;
23




20            PECULIARITIES OF MEANING          [LECT,
he puts his ideas before us in a rough and fragmentary way;
he carries our understandings with him, but only at the cost
of labour and pains on our part. And though he may be able
to comprehend all that is said by the other, he has not in the
same sense made the language his own, any more than the
student of a foreign tongue who can translate from it with
facility, but can express himself in it only lamely. Thus the
infinite variety of the native and acquired capacity of different
individuals comes to light in their idiom. It would be as
hard to find two persons with precisely the same limits to
their speech, as with precisely the same lineaments of countenance.
Once more, not all who speak the same tongue attach the
same meaning to the words they utter. We learn what
words signify either by direct definition or by inference
from the circumstances in which they are used. But no
definition is or can be exact and complete; and we are
always liable to draw  wrong inferences.  Children, as
every one knows, are constantly misapprehending the extent
of meaning and application of the signs they acquire. Until it learns better, a child calls every man papa; having
been taught the word sky, it calls the ceiling of a room the
sky; it calls a donkey or a mule a horse-anid naturally
enough, since it has had to apply the name dog to creatures
differing far more than these from one another. And so
long as the learning of language lasts, does the liability to
such error continue. It is a necessity of the case, arising
out of the essential nature of language. Words are not
exact models of ideas; they are merely signs for ideas, at
whose significance we arrive as well as we can; and no
mind can put itself into such immediate and intimate communion with another mind as to think and feel precisely
with it. Sentences are not images of thoughts, reflected in
a faultless mirror; nor even photographs, needing only to
have the colour added: they are but imperfect and fragmentary sketches, giving just outlines enough to enable the
sense before which they are set up to seize the view intended,
and to fill it out to a complete picture; while yet, as regards
the completeness of the filling out, the details of the work,




I.]             IN EACH ONE'S ENGLISH..21
and the finer shades of colouring, no two minds will produce
pictures perfectly accordant with one another, nor will any
precisely reproduce the original.
The limits of variation of meaning are) of course, very
different in different classes of words. So far as these are
designations of definite objects, cognizable by the senses,
there is little danger of our seriously misapprehending one
another when we utter them. Yet, even here, there is
room for no trifling discordance, as the superior knowledge
or more vivid imagination of one person gives to the idea
called up by a name a far richer content than another can
put into it.  Two men speak of the sun, with mutual intelligence: but to the one he is a mere ball of light and heat,
which rises in the sky every morning, and goes down again at
night; to the other, all that science has taught us respecting
the nature of the great luminary, and its influence upon our
little planet, is more or less distinctly present every time he
utters its name. The word Pekin is spoken before a num.
ber of persons, and is understood by them all: but some
among them know only that it is the name of an immense
city in Asia, the capital of the Chinese empire; others have
studied Chinese manners and customs, have seen pictures of
Chinese scenery, architecture, dress, occupation, and are able
to tinge the conception which the word evokes with some
fair share of a local colouring; another, perhaps, has visited
the place, and its name touches a store of memories, and
brings up before his mind's eye a picture vivid with the
hues of truth. I feel a tolerable degree of confidence that
the impressions of colour made on my sense are the same
with those made upon my friend's sense, so that, when we
use the words red or blue, we do not mean different things:
and yet, even here, it is possible that one of us may be
afflicted with some degree of colour-blindness, so that we do
not apprehend the same shades precisely alike. But just so
is every part of language liable to be affected by the personality of the speaker; and most of all, where matters of
more subjective apprehension are concerned. The voluptuary, the passionate and brutal, the philosophic, and the
sentimental, for instance, when they speak of love or of hate,




22          WHAT THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS,        [LECT.
mean by no means the same feelings. How pregnant with
sacred meaning are home, patriotism, faith to some, while
others utter or hear them with cool indifference! It is need.
less, however, to multiply examples. Not half the words in our
familiar speech would be identically defined by any considerable number of those who employ them every day.  Nay,
who knows not that verbal disputes, discussions turning on
the meaning of words, are the most frequent, bitter, and in.
terminable of controversies?
Clearly, therefore, we are guilty of no paradox in maintaining that, while we all speak the English language, the
English of no two individuals among us is precisely the
same: it is not the same in form; it is not the same in
extent; it is not the same in meaning.
But what, then, is the English language? We answer:
It is the immense aggregate of the articulated signs for
thought accepted by, and current among, a certain vast
community which we call the English-speaking people, em.
bracing the principal portion of the inhabitants of our own
country and of Great Britain, with all those who elsewhere
in the world talk like them. It is the sum of the separate
languages of all the members of this community. Or-since
each one says some things, or says them in a way, not to be
accepted as in the highest sense English-it is their average
rather than their sum; it is that part of the aggregate which
is supported by the usage of the majority; but of a majority
made in great part by culture and education, not by num/bers alone.  It is a mighty region of speech, of somewhat
fluctuating and uncertain boundaries, whereof each speaker
occupies a portion, and a certain central tract is included in
the portion of all: there they meet on common ground; off it,
they are strangers to one another. Although one language, it
includes numerous varieties, of greatly differing kind and
degree: individual varieties, class varieties, local varieties.
Almost any two persons who speak it may talk so as to be
unintelligible to each other. The one fact which gives it
unity is, that ail who speak it may, to a considerable extent,
and on subjects of the most general and pressing interest,
talk so as to understand one another.




I.]        AND HOW IT IS KEPT IN EXISTENCE.           23
How this language is kept in existence is clearly shown
by the foregoing exposition. It is preserved by an un.
interrupted tradition. Each generation hands it down to
the generation following. Every one is an actor in the process; in each individual speaker the language has, as we
may say, a separate and independent existence, as has an
animal species in each of its members; and each does what
in him lies to propagate it-that is to say, his own part of
it, as determined in extent and character by the inherent
and acquired peculiarities of his nature. And, small as may
be the share of the work which falls to any one of us, the
sum of all the shares constitutes the force which effects the
transmission of the whole language.  In the case of a tongue
like ours, too, these private labours are powerfully aided and
supplemented by the influence of a literature. Each book
is, as it were, an undying individual, with whom, often,
much larger numbers hold intercourse than any living person can reach, and who teaches them to speak as he speaks.
A great body of literary works of acknowledged merit and
authority, in the midst of a people proud and fond of it, is
an agent in the preservation and transmission of any tongue,
the importance of which cannot easily be over-estimated: we
shall have to take it Constantly into account in the course of
our further inquiries into the history of language. But
each work is, after all, only a single person, with his limitations and deficiencies, and with his restricted influence.
Even Shakspeare, with his unrivalled wealth and variety of
expression, uses but about fifteen thousand words, and Milton little more than half so many-mere fragments of the
encyclopedic English tongue. The language would soon be
shorn of no small part of its strength, if placed exclusively
in the hands of any individual, or of any class. Nothing
less than the combined effort of a whole community, with
all its classes and orders, in all its variety of characters, circumstances, and necessities, is capable of keeping in life a
whole language.
But, while our English speech is thus passed onward from
generation to generation of those who learn tp speak it, and,
ha mng learned themselves, teach others, it does not remain




24                    OHAOGES IN                [LflT,
precisely the same; on the contrary, it is undergoing all the
time a slow process of modification, which is capable of rendering it at length another language, unintelligible to those
who now employ it. In order to be convinced of this, we
have only to cast an eye backward over its past history, during the period for which we have its progress recorded in
contemporary documents. How much is there in our present familiar speech which would be strange and meaningless
to one of Elizabeth's court! How much, again, do we find
in any of the writers of that period —in Shakspeare, for instance-which is no longer good current English! phrases
and forms of construction which never fall from our lips
now save as we quote them; scores of words which we have
lost out of memory, or do not employ in the sense which
they then bore.  Go back yet farther, from half-century to
half-century, and the case grows rapidly worse; and when
we arrive at Chaucer and Gower, who are separated from us
by a paltry interval of five hundred years, only fifteen or
twenty descents from father to son, we meet with a dialect
which has a half-foreign look, and can only be read by care.
ful study, with the aid of a glossary. Another like interval
of five hundred years brings us to the Anglo-Saxon of King
Alfred, which is absolutely a strange tongue to us, not less
unintelligible than the German of the present day, and nearly
as hard to learn. And yet, we have no reason to believe
that any one of those thirty or forty generations of Englishmen through whom we are descended from the contemporaries of King Alfred was less simply and single-mindedly
engaged to transmit to its children the same language which
it had received from its ancestors than is the generation of
which we ourselves form a part. It may well be that circumstances were less favourable to some of them than to us,
and that our common speech stands in no danger of suffering in the next thousand years a tithe of the change which
it has suffered in the past thousand. But the forces which
are at work in it are the same now that they have always
been, and the effects they are producing are of the same
essential character: both are inherent in the nature of lan.




I.]              THZ ENGLISH LANGUAGE.               25
guage, and inseparable from its use. This will be made
plain to us by a brief inquiry.
The most rapid and noticeable mode of change in our
language is that which is all the time varying the extent and
meaning of its vocabulary. English speech exists in order
that we may communicate with one another respecting those
things which we know. As the stock of words at the command of each individual is an approximate measure of the
sum of his knowledge, so the stock of words composing a
language corresponds to what is known in the community;
the objects it is familiar with, the distinctions it has drawn,
all its cognitions and reasonings, in the world of matter and
of mind, must have their appropriate expression. That
speech should signify more than is in the minds of its speakers
is obviously impossible; but neither must it fall short of in.
dicating what they think. Now the sum of knowledge in
every community varies not a little from generation to
generation. Every trade and handicraft, every art, every
science, is constantly changing its materials, its processes,
and its products; and its technical dialect is modified accordingly, while so much of the results of this change as affects
or interests the general public finds its way into the familiar
speech of everybody. As our material condition varies, as
our ways of life, our institutions, private and public, become
other than they have been, all is necessarily reflected in our
language. In these days of railroads, steamboats, and telegraphs, of sun-pictures, of chemistry and geology, of improved
wearing stuffs, furniture, styles of building, articles of food
and luxury of every description, how many words and phrases
are in every one's mouth which would be utterly unintelligible
to the most learned man of a century ago, were he tc rise
from his grave and walk our streets! It is, of course, in its
stores of expression for these more material objects and relations, and for the details of technical knowledge, that language changes most notably, because it is with reference to
these that the necessity for change especially arises. The
central and most indispensable substance of every language
iz made up of designations for things, properties, act3, the




26                    CHANGES IN                [LECT,
apprehension of which is nearly as old as humanity itself,
which men learned to name as soon as they learned to talk
at all, and whose names are not liable to pass away or be.
come superseded.  The words red, green, blue, yellow, or
their equivalents, go back to the earliest period of human
speech; it is when some new and delicate shades of colour.
like the aniline dyes, are invented, that appellations must be
sought for them, and may be found even among names of
localities, as Magenta, Solferino, to which the circumstances
of the time have given a sudden notoriety. Any two rustics,
from the time of Adam to the present, could talk with one
another, with all the particularity which their practical ends
required, of earth and rock, of pebbles and stones, of
sand and gravel, of loam and clay: but, since the beginning
of the present century, the mineralogist and geologist have
elicited a host of new facts touching the history and constitution of the earth's crust and the materials of which this
is made up, have arranged and classified its strata and their
contents, have brought to light numberless relations, of cause
and effect, of succession, of origin, date, and value, which
had hitherto lain hidden in it; and, to express these, they
have introduced into English speech a whole technical vocabulary, and one which is still every year extending and
changing. So it is with botany; so with metaphysics; so
with every other branch of science and art. And though
the greater part of the technical vocabularies remains merely
technical, understood and employed only by special students
in each branch, yet the common speech is not entirely unaffected by them. Some portion of the results of the
advancement in knowledge made by the wise and learned
reaches even the lowest, or all but the very lowest, and is
expressed in their language; and it thus becomes a part of
the fundamental stock of ideas which constitute the heritage
of each generation, which every child is taught to form and
use. Language, in short, is expanded and contracted in
precise adaptation to the circumstances and needs of those
who use it; it is enriched or impoverished, in every part,
along with the enrichment or impoverishment of their minds.
Thxs is, as I have said, the most noticeable mc de of cbange




]              THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.              27
in language, and also the most natural, inevitable, and legiti.
mate. Even the bigoted purist cannot object to it, or wish
it otherwise: conservatism here would be the conservatism
of ignorance, opposing itself to the progress of civilization
and enlightenment. Along with it, too, comes its natural
counterpart, the dropping out of use and out of memory of
words and meanings of words and phrases which circumstances have made it no longer desirable to maintain in
existence; which denote the things of a by-gone time, or, by
the substitution of more acceptable expressions, have become
unnecessary and otiose.
But there are also all the time going on in our language
changes of another and a Snore questionable-.....charaxaer,
changes n hich affect the form rather than the content of
speech, and are in a sense unnecessary, and therefore stoutly
opposed by the authority of exact tradition; yet which have
hitherto shown themselves not less inevitable than the others.
We have seen that the transmission of language is by tradition. But traditional transmission is by its inherent nature
defective.  If a story cannot pass a few times from mouth
to mouth and maintain its integrity, neither can a word pass
from generation to generation and keep its original form.
Very young children, as every one knows, so mutilate their
words and phrases that only those who are most familiar
with them can understand what they say. But even an
older child, who has learned to speak in general with tolerable correctness, has a special inaptness to utter a particular
sound, and either drops it altogether or puts another and
nearly related one in its place. There are certain combinations of consonants which it cannot manage, and has to
mouth over into more pronounceable shape.  It drops a
syllable or two from a long and cumbrous word. It omits
endings and confounds forms together: mle, for instance, has
to do duty in its usage for me, my, and I; and eat, to stand
for all persons, tenses, and numbers of the verb. Or, again,
having learned by prevailing experience that the past sense
in a verb is signified by the addition of a d, it imagines that,
because it says I loved, it must also say I brinyed; or else,
perhaps, remembering I sany from I sing, it says I bran.,




28                     CHIAGES IN                 [LTCf
It says foots and mouses; it says gooder and goodesb; it ccn.
founds sit and set, lie and lay (in which last blunders, unfor.
tunately, it is supported by the example of too many among
the grown-up and educated). Care, on its own part and on
that of its instructors, corrects by degrees such childish
errors; but this care is often wanting or insufficient, and it
grows up continuing still to speak bad English. Moreover,
as we have already seen, not each child only, but each man,
to his dying day, is a learner of his native tongue; nor is
there any one who is not liable, from carelessness or defective
instruction, to learn a word or phrase incorrectly, or to re.
produce it inaccurately. For these reasons there always liesr
in full vigour and currency, in the lower strata of language.
users, as we may term them-among the uneducated or half.
educated-a great host of deviations from the best usage,
offences against the propriety of speech, kept down in the
main by the controlling influence of good speakers, yet
all the time threatening to rise to the surface, and now
and then succeeding in forcing their way up, and compelling recognition and acceptance from even the best authorities.
Of this origin are the class of changes in language which
we are at present considering. They are, in their inception,
inaccuracies of speech. They attest the influence of that
immense numerical majority among the speakers of English
who do not take sufficient pains to speak correctly, but whose
blunders become finally the norm of the language. They
are mainly the results of two tendencies, already illustrated
in the instances we have given: first, to make things easy
to our organs of speech, to economize time and effort in the
work of expression; second, to get rid of irregular and exceptional forms, by extending the prevailing analogies of the
language.  Let us look at a few examples.
Our written words are thickly sown with silent letters,
which, as every one knows, are relics of former modes of
pronunciation, once necessary constituents of spoken language, but gradually dropped, because it was easier to tdo
without them.  Instances are knight, calm, psalm, would,
doubt, plougqh, thouyght, sword, chestnut.  If we will but carry




l.]             THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.                29
our investigations further back, beyond the present written
form of our words, we shal light upon much more extraor.
dinary cases of mutilation and abbreviation. Thus, to take
but a single, though rather striking, example, our alms is the
scanty relic of the long Greek vocable eleimosuni.  All the
monosyllables, in fact, of which especially the Anglo-Saxon
portion of our daily speech is in so great measure composed,
are relics of long polysyllabic forms, usual at an earlier stage
of the language. Some words are but just through, or even
now passing through, a like process.  In often and soften,
good usage has taken sides with the corruption which has
ejected the t, and accuses of being old-fashioned or affectedly
precise the large and respectable class who still pronounce
that letter; while, on the other hand, it clings to the t of
captain, and stigmatizes as vulgar those who presume to say
cap'n.
Again, it is the prevailing English custom to accent a noun
of two syllables on its first syllable; hosts of nouns of
French origin have had their native accent altered, in order
to conform them to this analogy. Such changes have
been going on at every period in the history of our tonguein Pope, in Milton, in Shakspeare, in Chaucer, you will find
examples of their action, in ever increasing numbers as you
go backward from the present time. Nor are they yet over:
there is ally, which all the authorities agree in pronouncing
ally, while prevailing popular usage, on both sides of the
Atlantic, persists in favouring ally; and it is not unlikely
that, in the end, the people will prove too strong for the orthoepists, as they have done so many times before.
When our Bible translation was made, the verb speak had
a proper imperfect form, spake: a well-educated Englishman
would no more have written he spoke than he come and done
it. But, just as the ill-instructed and the careless now-adays are often guilty of these last two blunders, so then, undoubtedly, large numbers habitually said spoke for spake;
until, at last, the struggle against it was given up as hope.
less; and no one now says I spake save in conscious imita.
tion of Biblical style.
At the same period, but two centuries and a half ago, the




80                    CHANGES IN                  [LUCT.
English language contained no such word as its. HIis had
been, in the old Anglo-Saxon and ever since, the common
possessive of he and it (A.-S., hit); it belonged to the latter
no less than to the former.  But almost all the possessive
cases in the language were formed by adding s to the nominative, and his wore the aspect of being so formed from he,
and of having nothing to do with it. Why not, then, form
a new possessive in like manner for it itself?  This was a
question which very probably suggested itself to a great
many minds about the same time, and the word its may
have sprung up in a hundred places at once, and propagated
itself, under the ban of the purists of the day, who frowned
upon it, pronounced it "as bad as she's, for her, would be,"
and carefully avoided its use; until at last its popularity
and evident desirableness caused it to be universally adopted and recognized as proper. And, at the present time, few
of us read our Bibles so curiously as to have discovered
that they contain no such word as its, from Genesis to Reve.
lation.
The Anglo-Saxon employed ye (ge) as subject of a verb,
and you (eow) as object, and the early English was,careful
to make the same distinction.  Nor is it yet entirely
lost; but the use of ye now belongs to a solemn style only,
and you has been set up as subject not less than object.
There was a time when you are for ye are, and yet more
for thou art, would have been as offensive to the ear of
a correct English speaker as is now the thee is of the
Quaker.
Not a few of the irregular verbs which our language for.
merly contained have been in later usage assimilated to the
more numerous class, and conjugated regularly.  Take as
examples help, of which the ancient participle holpen, instead
of helped, is found still in our Bibles; and work, which has
gained a modern preterit and participle, worked, although
the older form, wrought, is also retained in use, with a somewhat altered and specialized signification.
Here are changes of various kind and value, though all
tracing their origin to the same tendencies. Words change
their shape without losing their identity; old forms, old




t.1            THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.               81
marks of distinction, are neglected -and lost: some of these
could well be spared, but others were valuable, and their
relinquishment has impaired the power of expression of the
language; while new forms are created, and new marks of
distinction are adopted into general use, and made part and
parcel of English speech.
So full and abundant illustration of this department of
change in language as might be desired cannot be drawn
from facts with which we are all familiar, because, for some
time past, the conservative forces have been so powerful in
our mother-tongue, and the accuracy of historical transmission so strict, that what is now good English has, in the
main, long been such, and is likely long to continue such.
Its alteration goes on so slowly that we hardly perceive it
in progress, and it is only as we compare the condition of
the language at a given time with that which it shows at
the distance of a considerable interval, earlier or later, that
they come clearly to light. The English is, indeed, among
all cultivated tongues, the one which has suffered, under the
influences which we have been describing, the most thorough
and pervading change of its grammar and vocabulary; but
the greater part of this change occurred at a certain definite
period, and from the effect of circumstances which are well
known. Our English ancestors, between the time of Alfred
and that of Chaucer, endured the irruption and conquest of
a French-speaking people, the Normans —just as did the
Irish, at a later day, that of the English.  That the Saxons
did not, like the Irish, gradually relinquish their own tongue,
and learn to talk French altogether, was owing to their advanced culture and superior independence of character:
after a long time of confusion and mutual unintelligibility,
as every one knows, the Saxons gave up a part of their
vocabulary for that of the Normans, and the Normans a
part of theirs, with nearly all their grammar, for those of
the Saxons, and our present composite dialect, with its meagre system of grammatical inflections, was the result. The
example is an extreme one of the transformation which a
language may be made to undergo in the lapse of a few




82               CHARACTERISTICS OE             [LEoT,
generations, at the bidding of imperious circumstances; as
the present stability of the same language is an extreme
example of what favouring circumstances can do to prevent
change, and maintain the integrity of speech.
The facts and conditions which we have been considering
are of no exceptional character: on the contrary, they are
common to all the forms of speech current among the sons
of men. Throughout the world, the same description, in its
essential features, will be found to hold good.  Every
spoken language is a congeries of individual signs, called
words; and each word (with the rare exception of the actual
additions made by individuals to language, of which we shall
take account later) was learned by every person who employs it from some other person who had employed it before
him. He adopted it as the sign of a certain idea, because;t was already in use by others as such. Inner and essential connection between idea and word, whereby the mind
which conceives the one at once apprehends and produces
the other, there is none, in any language upon earth. Every
existing form of human speech is a body of arbitrary and
conventional signs for thought, handed down by tradition
from one generation to another, no individual in any generation receiving or transmitting the whole body, but the sum
of the separate givings and takings being effective to keep
it in existence without essential loss. Yet the process of
traditional transmission always has been, is now, and will
ever continue to be, in all parts of the world, an imperfect
one: no language remains, or can remain, the same during
a long period of time. Growth and change make the life of
language, as they are everywhere else the inseparable accompaniment and sign of life. A language is living, when it is
the instrument of thought of a whole people, the wonted
means of expression of all their feelings, experiences, opinions, reasonings; when the connection between it and their
mental activity is so close that the one reflects the other,
and that the two grow together, the instrument ever adapt.
ing itself to the uses which it is to subserve. The ways in
which this adaptation takes place, and the causes which




i.]              UNIVERSAE  "ANGUAGE.               33
accelerate or retard the inevitable change of language, have
been already in part glanced at, and will come up for more
detailed examination hereafter; it is sufficient at present
that we fully recognize the fact of change. It is the fundsa
mental fact upon which rests the whole method of linguistiv
itudy.




LECTURE II.
Nature of the force which produces the changes of language; its modes
of action. Language an institution, of historical growth; its study a
moral science.  Analogies of linguistic science with the physical sciences. Its methods historical. Etymology its foundation. Analysis
of compound words. Genesis of affixes.  Nature of all words as produced by actual composition.
IN the preceding lecture, after a very brief survey of the
history and objects of linguistic science, we entered upon an
inquiry into the means by which we had become possessed
of our mother-tongue, an inquiry intended to bring out
to our view the mode of transmission and preservation of
language in general. And we saw that it is the work of
tradition; that each generation passes along to the generation succeeding, with such faithfulness as the nature of the
case permits, the store of words, phrases, and constructions
which constitute the substance of a spoken tongue. But
we also saw that the process of transmission is uniformly an
imperfect one; that it never succeeds in keeping any
language entirely pure and unaltered: on the contrary, language appeared to us as undergoing, everywhere and always,
a slow process of modification, which in course of time
effects a considerable change in its constitution, rendering'it
to all intents and purposes a new tongue.  This was illustrated from the history of our English speech, which, by
gradual and accumulated alterations made in it, during the
past thousand years, by the thirty or forty generations
through whose mouths it has passed, has grown from the
Anglo-Saxon of KIng Alfred, through a succession of inter.




In.]            WHAT CHANGES LANGUAGE.                36
mediate phases, into what it is at present.  Before, now, we
go on to examine in detail the processes of linguistic change,
setting forth more fully their causes and modes of action,
and exhibiting their results upon a more extended scale, we
have to draw from what has been already said  one or two
important conclusions, touching the nature of-the force by
which those processes are carried on, and the character, and
place among the sciences, of the study which undertakes
their investigation.
And, in the first place, we see, I think, from our examination of the manner in which language is learned and taught,
in which its life is kept up, what is meant when we speak
and write of it as having an independent or objective existence,
as being an organism or possessing an organic structure,
as having laws of growth, as feeling tendencies, as develop.
ing, as adapting itself to our needs, and so on. All these
are figurative expressions, the language of trope and metaphor,
not of plain fact; they are wholly unobjectionable when consciously employed in their proper character, for the sake of
brevity or liveliness of delineation; they are only harmful
when we allow them to blind us to the real nature of
the truths they represent. Language has, in fact, no exist.
ence save in the minds and mouths of those who use it; it
is made up of separate articulated signs of thought, each of
which is attached by a mental association to the idea it
represents, is uttered by voluntary effort, and has its value
and currency only by the agreement of speakers and hearers.
It is in their power, subject to their will; as it is kept up,
so is it modified and altered, so may it be abandoned, by
their joint and consenting action, and in no other way what.
soever.
This truth is not only often lost from view by those who
think and reason respecting language, but it is also sometimes explicitly denied, and the opposite doctrine is set up,
that language has a life and growth independent of its
speakers, with which men cannot interfere.  A  recent
popular writer * asserts that, " although there is a continue
* Professor Max Miiller, in his Lectures on the Science of Language
tirst series, setond lecture.
3.




86              WHAT FORCE PRODUCES             [LECT
ous change in language, it is not in the power of man
either to produce or to prevent it: we might think as well
of changing the laws which control the circulation of our
blood, or of adding an inch to our height, as of altering the
laws of speech, or inventing new words according to our
own pleasure." Then, in order to establish the truth of this
opinion, he goes on to cite a couple of historical instances,
in which two famous emperors, Tiberius of Rome and Sigismund of Germany, committed blunders in their Latin, and
were taken to task and corrected by humble grammarians,
who informed their imperial majesties that, however great
and absolute their power might be, it was not competent to
make an alteration in the Latin language.  The argument
and conclusion we may take to be of this character: If so
high and mighty a personage as an emperor could not do so
small a thing as alter the gender and termination of a single
word-not even, as Sigismund attempted, in a language
which was dead, and might therefore be supposed incapable
of making resistance to the indignity-much less can any
one of inferior consideration hope to accomplish such a
change, or any other of the changes, of greater or less
account, which make up the history of speech: therefore,
language is incapable of alteration by its speakers.
The utter futility of deriving such a doctrine from such a
pair of incidents, or from a score, a hundred, or a thousand
like them, is almost too obvious to be worth the trouble of
pointing out. Against what authority more mighty than
their own did these two emperors offend? Simply against
the immemorial and well-defined usage of all who wrote
and had ever written Latin-nothing more and nothing
less.  High political station does not confer the right
to make and unmake language; a sovereign's grammatical
blunders do not become the law of speech to his subjects,
any more than do those of the private man. Each individual is, in a way, constantly trying experiments of modification upon his mother-tongue, from the time when, as
a child, he drops sounds and syllables which it does not suit
his convenience to pronounce, and frames inflections upon
mistaken analogies, to that when, as a man, he is guilty of




n.]           THE CHANGES OF LANGUAGE.              37
]lang, vulgarisms, and bad grammar, or indulges in manner.
isms and artificial conceits, or twists words out of their true
uses, from ignorance or caprice. But his individual influence is too weak to make head against the consenting usage
of the community; his proposals, unless for special reasons,
are passed over unnoticed, and he is forced to conform his
speech to that of the rest; or, if he insist upon his independence, he is contemned as a blunderer, or laughed at
as a humourist.
That an alteration should have been made at the time of
Sigismund in any item of Latin grammar, either by the emperor himself, or by all the potentates and learned men
of Christendom, was an impossibility. For the language
was a dead one; its proprieties of speech were no longer
dependent upon the sanction of present usage, but upon
the authority of unchanging models.  Much that we say is
good English, though Shakspeare and Milton knew it not;
nothing can be good Latin, unless it be found in Cicero and
Virgil, or their compeers. And even under Tiberius, the
case was nearly the same: the great authors whose example
makes the law of Latin speech had already lived and written;
and any deviation from their usage would have been recognized by all coming time as a later corruption. Hence,
even had that emperor's blunder been accepted and slavishly
imitated by his courtiers, his army, and his subjects at
large, their consent could have made it good second-rate
Latin only; it might have become the very best usage in
the later Italian, French, and Spanish, but it would always
have been rejected and avoided by the strict classicists.
And all this, not for the reason that man has no power over
language, but precisely for the contrary reason, that he has
all power over it-that men's usage makes language.  He,
accordingly, who can direct usage cat make or alter language.
In this way only can exalted rank confer authority over
speech: it can give a more powerful impulse toward that
general acceptance and currency which anything must win
in order to be language.  There are instances on record in
which the pun of a monarch has changed for all time the
form of a word.  Ethnologists well know that the name of




38                 HOW ADDITIONS Trm             [LEC.,
the so-called " Tartar " race is properly Tatar, and they are
now endeavouring to restore this, its correct orthography.
The intrusion of the r is accounted for in the following manner.  When, in the reign of St Louis of France, the
hordes of this savage race were devastating eastern Europe,
the tale of their ravages was brought to the pious king, who
exclaimed with horror: "' Well may they be called Tartars,
for their deeds are those of fiends from  Tartarus."  The
appositeness of the metamorphosed appellation made it take,
and from  that time French authors-and, after their example, the rest of Europe-have called the Tatars " Tartars."
Whether the story is incontestably authentic or not is
of small consequence: any one can see that it might be true,
and that such causes may have produced such effects times
innumerable.
The speakers of language thus constitute a republic, or
rather, a democracy, in which authority is conferred only
by general suffrage and for due cause, and is exercised
under constant supervision and control. Individuals are
abundantly permitted to make additions to the common
speech, if there be reason for it, and if, in their work, they
respect the sense of the community.  When the first
schooner ever built, on the coast of Massachusetts, slid
from her stocks and floated gracefully upon the water, the
chance exclamation of an admiring by-stander, "Oh, how
she scoons!" drew from her contriver and builder the answer, "A scooner let her be, then," and made a new English
word. The community ratified his act, and accepted the
word he proposed, because the new thing wanted a new
name, and there was no one else so well entitled as he to
name it; if, on the other hand, he had assumed to christen
a man-of-war a scooner, no one but his nearest neighbours
would ever have heard of the attempt. The discoverer of a
new asteroid, again, is allowed to select its title, provided
he choose the name of some classical goddess, as is the
established precedent for such cases —although, even then,
he is liable to have the motives of his choice somewhat
sharply looked into.  The English astronomer who sought,
a few years since, with covert loyalty, to call his planetling




I.]              LANGUAGE  ARE MADE.               S
"Victoria," was compelled to retract the appellation and
offer another. An acute and learned Italian physician,
some time in the last century, discovered a new physical
force, and some one called it galvanism, after his name.
Many of us well remember how, not long ago, a French
savant devised a novel and universally interesting application
of certain chemical processes; and here, again, by some person to whose act the community gave its assent, the product
was named for its inventor a daguerreotype: and galvanism and
daguerreotype, with their derivatives, are now as genuine and
well established parts of the English language as are sun
and moon, or father and mother. If Galvani had denominated
his new principle abracadabra, or if Daguerre had styled his
sun-pictures aldiborontiphoscophornios, these names would,
indeed, have been not less inherently suitable than the ones
actually chosen, in the view of the great majority of those
who have since learned to use the latter; for compara.
tively few have ever heard of the two eminent discoverers,
or learned enough of Greek to be able to perceive the etymological aptness of type; yet those who are accustomed to
direct public opinion upon such subjects would have revolted,
and insisted upon the substitution of other titles, which
should seem to them to possess an obvious reason and applicability. The public has looked on quietly, during the
last half-century, while the geologists have been bringing
into our English speech their flood of new words, nouns,
adjectives, and verbs, of various origin and not seldom of
uncouth and barbarous aspect, wherewith to signify the new
knowledge added by them to the common stock that we all
draw from: these gentlemen know best; if they agree
among themselves that necessity and propriety require us to
say Siluzrian, paloontological, oilite, post-pleiocene, and the
like, we are ready to do so, whether our acquaintance with
ancient and modern geography and with the classical tongues
be or be not sufficient to enable us to discover or appreciate
the reason of each term.
But even in respect to the more intimate and sacred part of
language, the words and phrases of universal and every-day
use, the community confers some measure of authority upoa




40                ROW ADDITIONS TO              [LErc.
those who have a just title to it, upon great masters in the
art of speech, upon speakers whose eloquence carries cap.
tive all hearts, upon writers whose power in wielding the
common instrument of thought is felt and acknowledged
through all ranks. Such a one may now and then coin a
new word, if he follow established analogies; he may revive
and bring again into currency one which had fallen into
desuetude; he may confer on an old word a new value,
not too far differing from that already belonging to it-and
the license shall be ratified by general acceptance. A great
author may, by his single authority, turn the trembling scale
in favour of the admission to good usage of some popular
word or phrase, born of an original corruption or blunder,
which had hitherto been frowned upon and banned; nay,
even his mannerisms and conceits may perhaps become the
law of the language.  The maxim zuses  orma loquendi,'usage is the rule of speech,' is of supreme and uncontrolled
validity in every part and parcel of every human tongue,
and each individual can make his fellows talk and write as
he does just in proportion to the influence which they are
disposed to concede to him.
In a language circumstanced like ours, a conscious and
detailed discussion sometimes arises on the question of admitting some new word into its recognized vocabulary.  We
all remember the newspaper controversy, not long ago, as to
whether we ought to call a message sent by telegraph a
telegraph or a telegram; and many of us, doubtless, are yet
waiting to see how the authorities settle it, that we may
govern our own usage accordingly. We have a suffix able,
which, like a few others that we possess, we use pretty freely
in forming new words. Within no very long time past, somo
writers and speakers have added it to the verb rely, forming
the adjective reliable. The same thing must have been done
at nearly the same time to other verbs, awakening neither
question nor objection; while, nevertheless, reliable is still
shut out from the best-or, at least, from the most exclusive
-society in English speech. And why?  Because, in the
first place, say the objectors, the word is unnecessary; we
have already trustworthy, which means the same thing: fur;




T1.               LANGUAGE ARE MADE.                  41
ther, it is improperly and falsely formed; as we say "to
rely on " anything, our derivative adjective, if we make one,
should be relionable, not reliable: finally, it is low-caste; A,
B, and C, those prime authorities in English style, are careful never to let it slip from their pens.. The other side,
however, are obstinate, and do not yield the point. The
first objection, they retort, is insufficient; no one can properly oppose the enrichment of the language by a synonym,
which may yet be made to distinguish a valuable shade of
meaning-which, indeed, already shows signs of doing so, as
we tend to say " a trustworthy witness," but " reliable testimony." The second is ft'alse: English etymology is by no
means'so precise in its application of the suffix able as the
objectors claim; it admits laughable, meaning'worthy to be
laughed at,' unaccountable,' not to be accounted for,' indispensable,'not to be dispensed with,' as well as many other
words of the same kind; and even objectionable,' liable to
objection,' marriageable,'fit for marriage,' and so forth. As
for the third objection, whatever A, B, and C may do, it is
certain that D, F, and I, with most of the lower part of the
alphabet (including nearly all the X's, Y's, and Z's, the unknown quantities), use the new form freely; and it is vain
to stand out against the full acceptance of a word which is
supported by so much and so respectable authority. How
the dispute is likely, or ought, to terminate, need not concern
us here; it is only referred to because, while itself carried
on in full consciousness, and on paper, it is a typical illustration of a whole class of discussions which go on silently,
and even more or less unconsciously, in the minds before
which is presented, for acceptance or rejection, any proposed
alteration in the subsisting usages of speech. Is it called
for? is it accordant with the& analogies of the language? is
it offered or backed by good authority? these are the considerations by which general consent is won or repelled; and
general consent decides every case without appeal.
Dcwnright additions, however, to the vocabulary of a
spoken tongue, even those who hold to the doctrine of the
orgE.nic life of language will probably be willing to ascribe
to I uman agency; since no man in his sober senses, it would




42            HOW PHONETIC CHANGES IN           [LEOT.
seem, could possibly maintain that, when some individual
mind has formed a conception or drawn a deduction, or when
some individual ingenuity has brought forth a product of any
of the modes of activity of which man is capable, language
itself spontaneously extrudes a word for its designation!
He who sees is likewise he who says; the ingenuity that
could find the thing was never at a loss to devise also its
appellation.
But the case is not otherwise with those gradual changes
which bring about the decay of grammatical structure, or
the metamorphosis of phonetic form, in a language. Though
they go on in a more covert and unacknowledged way than
the augmentations of a vocabulary, they are due to the
action of the same forces. If we write knight, and pronounce
it nit, while our ancestors spelled the word cniht, and made
its every letter distinctly audible (giving the i our short i-.sound, as in pin) —just as the Germans even now both write
and speak the same word knecht —we know that it is not
because, by any force inherent in the word itself, the fuller
form grew into the simpler, but because'the combination kn,
as initial, was somewhat difficult for men's organs to utter,
and therefore began to lose its k,' first, in the mouths of
careless and easy speakers; and the corruption went on
gaining in popularity, until it became the rule of our speech
to silence the mute before the nasal in all such words (as in
knife, knit, gnat, gnaw, etc.); because, moreover, the sound
of the guttural A after a vowel became unpopular, men's
organs shrinking from the effort of producing it, and was
finally got rid of everywhere (being,either left out entirely,
as in nigh, ought, or turned intof asin laugh, cough); while,
at the same time, the loss of this consonant led to a pro.
longation'of the vowel i, which was changed into the diphthongal sound we now give it; in company, too, with so
many other of the " long i's " of the older language, that our
usual name at present for the diphthorg i's "long i.", And
so in all the multitude of similar cases.' "There is no iiecessity, physiological or other, foL the rugtio's sayingckadz for
cow; only the former is a lazy drawling utterance, which
opens the mouth less widely than the latter. A precisely




I*]              L4X9AUAGE ARN MADE.                 48
similar flattening of the simple sound of a, in such words as
grdsp, grfit, dnce —which but a brief time since were uni.
versally pronounced grasp, grdft, ddnce (a as in far), and are
so still in certain localities-is now so common as to have
become the accepted mode of utterance; but no one fails to
recognize in it a corruption of the previous pronunciation,
made current by example and imitation, prompted and re.
commended by that lazy habit of mouth which has occasioned the dimming of so many of our clear vowels. The pro.
nunciation either and neither seems at the present time to be
spreading in our community, and threatening to crowd out
of use the better-supported and more analogical * either and
neither; but it is only by the deliberate choice of persons
who fancy that there is something nicer, more recherche',
more "English," in the new sound, and by imitation of
these on the part of others. Such phonetic changes, we are
accustomed to say, are inevitable, and creep in of them.
selves; but that is only another way of saying that we know
not who in particular is to blame for them.  Offences must
needs come, but there is always that man by whom they
come, could we but trace him out.
It is unnecessary to dwell longer upon this point, or to
illustrate it more fully, inasmuch as even those who teach
the independent existence and organic growth of language
yet allow that phonetic change is the work of men, endeda
vouring to make things easy to their organs of speech.
A language in the condition in which ours is at present,
when thousands of eyes are jealously watching its integrity,
and a thousand pens are ready to be drawn, and dyed deep
in ink, to challenge and oppose the introduction into it of
any corrupt form, of any new and uncalled-for element, can,
of course, undergo only the slowest and the least essential
alteration. It is when the common speech is in the sole
keeping of the uncultivated and careless speakers, who care
little for classical and time-honoured usages, to whom the
preferences of the moment are of more account than any.
* The only English word in which ei has the " long i" sound is height,
and even there it is nothing but an old orthographical blunder; there wax
no reason for divorcing the derivative noun in spelling from its theme, higb




44       ACTION ON LANGUAGE OF INDIVIDUALS,   [LECT,
thing in the past or in the future, that mutation has its full
course. New dialects are wont to grow up among the coin.
mon people, while the speech of the educated and lettered
class continues to be what it has been. But the nature of
the forces in action is the same in the one case as in the
other: all change in language is the work of the will of its
speakers, which acts under the government of motives,
through the organs of speech, and varies their products
to suit its necessities and its convenience. Every single
item of alteration, of whatever kind, and of whatever degree
of importance, goes back to some individual or individuals,
who set it in circulation, from whose example it gained a
wider and wider currency, until it finally won that general
assent which is alone required in order to make anything in
language proper and authoritative. Linguistic change must
be gradual, and almost insensible while in progress, for the
reason that the general assent can be but slowly gained, and
can be gained for nothing which is too far removed from
former usage, and which therefore seems far-fetched, arbi.
trary, or unintelligible. The collective influence of all the
established analogies of a language is exerted against any
daring innovation, as, on the other hand, it aids one which
is obvious and naturally suggested. It was, for instance,
no difficult matter for popular usage to introduce the new
possessive its into English speech, nor to add worked to
wrought, as preterit of work, nor to replace the ancient
plural kye or kine (Anglo-Saxon cy, from cu,'cow') by a
modern one, cows, formed after the ordinary model: while
to reverse either process, to crowd its, worked, and cows out
of use by substitution of his, wrought, and kine, would have
been found utterly impracticable. The power of resistance
to change possessed by a great popular institution, which is
bound up with the interests of the whole community, and is
a part of every man's thoughts and habitual acts, is not
easily to be overestimated. How long has it taken to persuade and force the French people, for instance, into the
adoption of the new decimal system of weights and measures! tHow have they been baffled and shamed who have
thought, in these latter days, to amend in a few points, of




It.)           AND 01o THE COMMUNITY.              45
obvious desirability, our English orthography! But speech
is a thing of far nearer and higher importance; it is the
most precious of our possessions, the instrument of our
thoughts, the organ of our social nature, the means of our
culture; its use is not daily or hourly alone, but momently;
it is the first thing we learn, the last we forget; it is the
most intimate and clinging of our habits, and almost a
second nature: and hence its exemption from all sweeping
or arbitrary change. The community, to whom it belongs,
will suffer no finger to be laid upon it without a reason;
only such modifications as commend themselves to the
general sense, as are virtually the carrying out of tendencies
universally felt, have a chance of winning approval and
acceptance, and so of being adopted into use, and made
language.
Thus it is indeed true that the individual has no power
to change language. But it is not true in any sense which
excludes his agency, but only so far as that agency is confessed to be inoperative except as it is ratified by those
about him. Speech and the changes of speech are the work
of the community; but the community cannot act except
through the initiative of its individual members, which it
follows or rejects. The work of each individual is done unpremeditatedly, or as it were unconsciously; each is intent
only on using the common possession for his own benefit,
serving therewith his private ends; but each is thus at the
same time an actor in the great work of perpetuating and of
shaping the general speech. So each separate polyp on
a coral-bank devotes himself simply to the securing of his
own food, and excretes calcareous matter only in obedience
to the exigencies of his individual life; but, as the joint result of the isolated labours of all, there slowly rises in the
water the enormous coral cliff, a barrier for the waves to
dash themselves against in vain. To pick out a single man,
were he even an emperor, and hold him up to view in his
impotence as proof that men cannot make or alter language,
is precisely equivalent to selecting one polyp, though the
biggest and brightest-coloured of his species, off the grow.
ing reef, and exclaiming over him, " See this weak and puny




46       ANALOGIES BETWEEN LINGUISTIC SCIENCE   [LECT.
creature! how is it possible that he and his like should
build up a reef or an island?"  No one ever set himself
deliberately at work to invent or improve language —or did
so, at least, with any valuable and abiding result; the work
is all accomplished by a continual satisfaction of the need of
the moment, by ever yielding to an impulse and grasping
a possibility which the already acquired treasure of words
and forms, and the habit of their use, suggest and put
within reach. In this sense is language a grow,th; it is not'
consciously fabricated; it increases by a constant and implicit adaptation to the expanding necessities and capacities
of men.
This, again, is what is meant by the phrases "organic
growth, organic development," as applied to language. A
language, like an organic body, is no mere aggregate of
similar particles; it is a complex of related and mutually
helpful parts. As such a body increases by the accretion of
matter having a structure homogeneous with its own, as its
already existing organs form the new addition, and form it
for a determinate purpose-to aid the general life, to help
the performance of the natural functions, of the organized
being-so is it also with language: its new stores are formed from, or assimilated to, its previous substance; it enriches
itself with the evolutions of its own internal processes, and
in order more fully to secure the end of its being, the expression of the thought of those to whom it belongs. Its
rise, development, decline, and extinction are like the birth,
increase, decay, and death of a living creature.
There is a yet closer parallelism between the life of language and that of the animal kingdom in general. The
speech of each person is, as it were, an individual of a species,
with its general inherited conformity to the specific type, but
also with its individual peculiarities, its tendency to variation
and the formation of a new species. The dialects, languages,
groups, families, stocks, set up by the linguistic student,
correspond with the varieties, species, genera, and so on, of
the zoologist. And the questions which the students of
nature are so excitedly discussing at the present day-the
nature of specific distinctions, the derivation of species by




W.l]           AND THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES.                 41
individual variation and natural selection, the unity of origin
of animal life-all are closely akin with those which the
linguistic student has constant occasion to treat.  We need
not here dwell further upon the comparison: it is so naturally suggested, and so fruitful of interesting and instructive
analogies, that it has been repeatedly drawn out and
employed, by students both of nature and of language.*
Once more, a noteworthy and often-remarked similarity
exists between the facts and methods of geology and those
of linguistic study. The science of language is, as it were,
the geology of the most modern period, the Age of Man,
having for its task to construct the history of development
of the earth and its inhabitants from the time when the
proper geological record remains silent; when man, no longer
a mere animal, begins by the aid of language to bear witness
respecting his own progress and that of the world about him.
The remains of ancient speech are like strata deposited in
bygone ages, telling of the forms of life then existing, and of.
the circumstances which determined or affected them; while
words are as rolled pebbles, relics of yet more ancient formations, or as fossils, whose grade indicates the progress of
organic life, and whose resemblances and relations show the
correspondence or sequence of the different strata; while,
everywhere, extensive denudation has marred the completeness
of the record, and rendered impossible a detailed exhibition
of the whole course of development.
Other analogies, hardly less striking than these, might
doubtless be found by a mind curious of such things. Yet
they would be, like these, analogies merely, instructive as
illustrations, but becoming fruitful of error when, letting our
fan.cy run away with our reason, we allow them to determine
our fundamental views respecting the nature of language
and the method of its study; when we call language a living
* For instance, by Lyell (Antiquity of Man, chapter xxiii.), who has founded
upon it a'lucid and able analogical argument bearing on the Darwinian
theory of the mutation of species. Professor August Schleicher (Die Darwinsche Theorie und die Sprachwissenschaft, Weimar, 1863) attempts absolutely
to prove by its aid the truth of the Darwinian theory, overlooking the fact
that the relation between the two classes of phenomena is one of analogy
only, not of essential agreement.




:t8            THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE            [LEC~.
and growing organism, or pronounce linguistics a physical
science, because zoology and geology are such. The point
is one of essential consequence in linguistic philosophy. We
shall never gain a clear apprehension of the phenomena of
linguistic history, either in their individuality or in their to.
tality, if we mistake the nature of the forces which are active
in producing them. Jisuage    ifn'the word may seem an awkFarF one, but we can find none
better or more truly descriptive-the work of those whose
wants it subserves; it is in their sole keeping and control;
it has been by them adapted to their circumstances and wants,
and is still everywhere undergoing at their hands such adaptation; every separate item of which it is composed is, in its present form-for we are not yet ready for a discussion of the
ultimate origin of human speech —the product of a series of
changes, effected by the will and consent of men, working
themselves out under historical conditions, and conditions of
man's nature, and by the impulse of motives, which are, in
the main, distinctly tra-.ceable, and form a legitimate subject
of scientific investigation.
These considerations determine the character of the study!
of language as a historical or moral science. It is a branch
Qfthe history of the human race and of human institutions.
It-ea'I or aid upon various other sciences, both mOral an
physical: upon mental and metaphysical philosophy, for an
account of the associations which underlie the developments
of signification, and of the laws of thought, the universal
principles of relation, which fix the outlines of grammar;
upon physiology, for explanation of the structure and mode
of operation of the organs of speech, and the physical relations of articulate sounds, which determine the laws of
euphony, and prescribe the methods of phonetic change;
upon physical geography and meteorology, even, for informa.
tion respecting material conditions and climatic aspects,
which have exerted their influence upon linguistic growth.
But the human mind, seeking and choosing expression for
human thought, stands as middle term between all determin.
ing causes and their results in the development of language,
It is only au they affect man himself, in his desires and tend.




tI.]           lb A HISTORICAL SCIENCE.               49
encies or in his capacities, that they can affect speech: the
immediate agent is the will of men, working under the joint
direction of impelling wants, governing circumstances, and
established habits.  What makes a physical science is that
it deals with material substances, acted on by material forces.
In the formation of geological strata, the ultimate cognizable
agencies are the laws of matter; the substance affected is
tangible matter; the product is inert, insensible matter. In
zoology, again, as in anatomy and physiology, the investigator
has to do with material structures, whose formation is de.
pendent on laws implanted in matter itself, and beyond the
reach of voluntary action. In language, on the other hand,
the ultimate agencies are intelligent beings, the material is —
not articulated sound alone, which might, in a certain sense,.be regarded as a physical product, but-sound made signifi.
cant of thought; and the product is of the same kind, a sys.
tem of sounds with intelligible content, expressive of the
slowly accumulated wealth of the human race in wisdom,
experience, comprehension of itself and of the rest of cre.
ation. What but an analogical resemblance can there
possibly be between the studies of things so essentially dissimilar?
There is a school of modern philosophers who are trying
to materialize all science, to eliminate the distinction between
the physical and the intellectual and moral, to declare for
naught the free action of the human will, and to resolve the
whole story of the fates of mankind into a series of purely
material effects, produced by assignable physical causes, and
explainable in the past, or determinable for the future, by
an intimate knowledge of those causes, by a recognition of
the action of compulsory motives upon the passively obedient
nature of man.  With such, language will naturally pass,
along with the rest, for a physical product, and its study for
a physical science; and, however we may dissent from their
general classification, we cannot quarrel with its application
in this particular instance. But by those who still hold to
the grand distinction of moral and physical sciences, who
think the action of intelligent beings, weighing motives and
selecting nourses of conduct, seeing ends and seeking means
I




50       ABSENCE OF REFLECTION AND INTENTION   [LEC'!
to their attainment, to be fundamentally and essentially
different from that of atoms moved by gravity, chemical
affinity, and the other immutable forces of nature, as we call
them-by such, the study of language, whose dependence
upon voluntary action is so absolute that not one word ever
was or ever will be uttered without the distinct exertion of
the human will, cannot but be regarded as a moral science;
its real relationship is with those branches of human knowledge among which common opinion is accustomed to rank
it-with mental philosophy, with philology, with history.
While, however, we are thus forced to the acknowledgment
that everything in human speech is a product of the con.
scious action of human beings, we should be leaving out of
sight a matter of essential consequence in linguistic investi.
gation if we failed to notice that what the linguistic student
seeks in language is not what men have'voluntarily or intentionally placed there. As we have already seen, each separate item in the production or modification of language is a
satisfaction of the need of the moment; it is prompted
by the exigencies of the particular case; it is brought forth
for the practical end of convenient communication, and with
no ulterior aim or object whatsoever; it is accepted by the
community only because it supplies a perceived want, and
answers an acknowledged purpose in the uses of social
intercourse.  The language-makers are quite heedless of its
position and value as part of a system, or as a record with
historical content, nor do they analyze and set before their
consciousness the mental tendencies which it gratifies. A
language is, in very truth, a grand system, of a highly com.
plicated and symmetrical structure; it is fitly comparable
with an organized body; but this is not because any human
mind has planned such a structure and skilfully worked it
out. Each single part is conscious and intentional; the
whole is instinctive and natural. The unity and symmetry
of the system is the unconscious product of the efforts of the
human mind, grappling with the facts of the world without
and the world within itself, and recording each separate
result in speech. Herein is a real language fundamentally
different from the elaborate and philosophical structures




n.]             IN THE FACTS OF LANGUAGE. 
with which ingenious men have sometimes thought to replace
them.*  These are indeed artful devices, in which the character and bearing of each part is painfully weighed and
determined in advance: compared with them, language is a
real growth; and human thought will as readily exchange
its natural covering for one of them as the growing crustacean will give up its shell for a casing of silver, wrought by
the most skilful hands. Their symmetry is that of a mathematical figure, carefully laid out, and drawn to rule and line;
in language, the human mind, tethered by its limited capacities in the midst of creation, reaches out as far as it can in
every direction and makes its mark, and is surprised at
the end to find the result a circle.
In whatever aspect the general facts of language are
viewed, they exhibit the same absence of reflection and
intention. Phonetic change is the spontaneous working
out of tendencies which the individual does not acknowledge
to himself, in their effects upon organs of whose structure
and workings he is almost or wholly ignorant. Outward
circumstances, historical conditions, progress of knowledge
and culture, are recorded in speech because its practical
uses require that they should be so, not because any one has
attempted to depict them.  Language shows ethnic descent,
not as men have chosen to preserve such evidence of their
kindred with other communities and races, but as it cannot
be effaced without special effort directed to that end. The
operations of the mind, the development of association, the
laws of subjective relation, are exhibited there, but only
as they are the agencies which govern the phenomena of
speech, unrecognized in their working, but inferrible from
their effects.
Now it iq this absence of reflection and conscious intent
which takes away from the facts of language the subjective
character that would otherwise belong to them as products
of voluntary action. The linguistic student feels that he is
not dealing with the artful creations of individuals. So far
* For an account of some of these attempts at an artificial language,
of theoretically perfect structure, and designed for universal use, see Professor
Max Miller's Lectures on Language, second series, tecond lecture.
e6




52         WHY LINGUISTIC SCIENCE R.AS BEEN     [LEC%.
as concerns the purposes for which he examines them, and
the results he would derive from them, they are almost
as little the work of man as is the form of his skull,.the outlines of his face, the construction of his arm and hand.
They are fairly to be regarded as reflections of the facts of
human nature and human history, in a mirror imperfect, in-.
deed, but faithful and wholly trustworthy; not as pictures
drawn by men's hands for our information. Hence the
close analogies which r4ay be drawn between the study of language and some of thephysical sciences. Hence, above all,
the fundamental and pervading correspondence between its
whole method and theirs. Not less than they, it founds
itself upon the widest observation and examination of particular facts, and proceeds toward its results by strict induction, comparing, arranging, and classifying, tracing out relations, exhibiting an inherent system, deducing laws of
general or universal application, discovering beneath all
the variety and diversity of particulars an ever-present
unity, in origin and development, in plan and purpose.
Beyond all question, it is this coincidence of method which
has confused some of the votaries of linguistic science, and
blinded their eyes to the true nature of the ultimate facts
upon which their study is founded, leading them to deny the
agency of man in the production and change of language,
and to pronounce it an organic growth, governed by organic
forces.
Another motive-a less important one, and in great part,
doubtless, unconscious in its action - impelling certain
students of language to claim for their favourite branch of
investigation a place in the sisterhood of physical sciences,
has been, as I cannot but think, an apprehension lest otherwise they should be unable to prove it entitled to the rank
of a science at all. There is a growing disposition on the
part of the devotees of physical studies-a class greatly and
rapidly increasing in importance and influence-to restrict
the honourable title of science to those departments of
knowledge which are founded on the unvarying laws of
material nature, and to deny the possibility of scientific
method and scientific results where the main element of




II.].       REGARDED AS A PHYSICAL SCIENCE.           63
action is the varying and capricious will of man. The con.
siderations adduced above, it is hoped, will remove this
apprehension.  Nor was it ever otherwise than needless, as
the tendency which called lit forth is mistaken and un.
justifiable.  The name " science " admits no such limitation.
The vastness of a field of study, the unity in variety of
the facts it includes, their connection by such ties that they
allow of strict classification and offer fruitful ground for deduction, and the value of the results attained, the truth
deduced-these things make a science.  And, in all these
respects, the study of language need fear a comparison with
no one of the physical sciences.  Its field is the speech of
all mankind, cultivated or savage; the thousands of existing
dialects, with all their recorded predecessors; the countless
multitudes of details furnished by these, each significant of a
fact in human history, external or internal. The wealth of
languages is like the wealth of species in the whole animal
kingdom.  Their tie of connection is the unity of human
nature in its wants and capacities, the unity of human knowledge, of existing things and their relations, to be apprehended by the mind and reflected in speech —a bond as
infinite in its ramifications among all the varieties of human
language, and as powerful in its binding force, as is the
unity of plan in vegetable or animal life. The results,
finally, for human history, the history of mind, of civilization, of connection of races, for the comprehension of man,
in his high endowments and in his use of them, are of
surpassing interest. To compare their worth with that of
the results derivable from other sciences were to no good
purpose: all truth is valuable, and that which pertains
to the nature and history of man himself is, to say the least,
not inferior in interest to that which concerns his surroundings.  Linguistic science, then, has in itself enough of
dignity and true scientific character not to need to borrow
aught of either from association with other branches of
inquiry, which differ from it in subject and scope, while yet
they seek by corresponding methods the same ultimate object,
the increase of knowledge, and the advancement of man in
comprehension of himself and of the universe.




64                 GENERAL METHOD                 [LEGw.
We return, now, from this necessary digression, to follow
onward our leading inquiry, "Why we speak as we do?"
And we have to push the question a step further than'n the
last lecture, asking this time, not simply how we ourselves
came into possession of the signs of which our mothertongue is made up, but also how those from whom we
learned them came into possession of them before us; how
the tradition from whose hands we implicitly accepted them
got them in the form in which it passed them on to us;
why our words, in short, are what they are, and not other.
wise. We have seen that every part and particle of every
existing language is a historical product, the final result of a
series of changes, working themselves out in time, under
the pressure of circumstances, and by the guidance of
motives, which are not beyond the reach of our discovery.
This fact prescribes the mode in which language is to be
fruitfully studied. If we would understand anything which
has become what it is, a knowledge of its present. constitution is not enough: we must follow it backward from stage
to stage, tracing out the phases it has assumed, and the
causes which have determined the transition of one into the
other. Merely to classify, arrange, and set forth in order
the phenomena of a spoken tongue, its significant material,
usages and modes of expression, is grammar and lexicography,
not linguistic science. The former state and prescribe only;
the latter seeks to explain. And when the explanation is
historical, the search for it must be of the same character.
To construct, then, by historical processes, with the aid of
all the historical evidences within his reach, the history of
development of language, back to its very beginning, is the
main task of the linguistic student; it is the means by
which he arrives at a true comprehension of language, in its
own nature and in its relations to the human mind and
to human history.
Furthermore, it is hardly necessary to point out that the
history of language reposes on that of words. Language is
made up of signs for thought, which, though in one sense
parts of a whole, are in another and more essential sense
isolated and independent entities. Each is produced for its




WT.]              OF IYNGUISTIC STUDY.                "
own purpose; each is separately exposed to the changes and
vicissitudes of linguistic life, is modified, recombined, or
dropped, according to its own uses and capacities. Hence
etymology, the historical study of individual words, is the
foundation and substructure of all investigation of language;
the broad principles, the'wide-reaching views, the truths of
universal application and importance, which constitute the
upper fabric of linguistic science, all rest upon word-genealogies. Words are the single witnesses from whom etymology
draws out the testimony which they have to give respecting
themselves, the tongue to which they belong, and all human
speech.
How the study of words is made the means of bringing
to light the processes of linguistic growth, and what those
processes are, it will, accordingly, be our next duty to examine and set forth by suitable examples. Having only
illustration in view, we will avoid all cases of a difficult or
doubtful character, noticing only words whose history is
well known; choosing, moreover, those which, while they
truly exhibit the principles we seek to establish, are at the
same time of the simplest kind, and most open to general
comprehension.
There is no word or class of words whose history does
not exemplify, more or less fully, all the different kinds of
linguistic change. It will be more convenient for us, however, to take up these kinds in succession, and to select our
instances accordingly. And, as the possibility of etymo.
logical analysis depends in no small part on the nature of
words as not simple entities, but made up of separate elements, this composite character of the constituents of speech
may properly engage our first attention.
That we are in the constant habit of putting together two
independent vocables to form a compound word, is an ob.
vious and familiar fact. Instances of such words are fear-in.
spiring, god-like, break-neck, house-top. They are substitutes
for the equivalent phrases inspiring fear, like a god, apt to
break one's neck. top of a house.  For the sake of more com.
pact and convenient expression, we have given a closer
unitY to the compound word than belongs to the aggregate




66                COMPOUNDED WORDS.               [LECT.
which it represents, by omission of connectives, by inversion
of the more usual order of arrangement, but most of all by
unity of accent: this last is the chief outward means of
composition; it converts two entities into one, for the
nonce, by subordinating the one of them to the other. Our
common talk is strewn with such words, and so gradual is
the transition to them from the mere collocations of the
phrase, that there are couples, like mother-tongue, wellknown, which we hardly know whether to write separately,
as collocations only, or with a hyphen, as loose compounds;
others, like dial-plate, well-being, usage so far recognizes for
compounds that they are always written together, sometimes
with the hyphen and sometimes without; others yet, like
godlike, herse/, are so grown together by long contact, by
habitual connection, that we hardly think of them as having
a dual nature. And even more than this: we have formed
some so close combinations that it costs us a little reflection
to separate them  into their original parts.  Of such a
character is forehead, still written to accord with its derivation, as a name for the fore part of the head, but so altered
in pronunciation that, but for its spelling, its origin would
certainly escape the notice of nineteen-twentieths of those
who use it. Such, again, is fortnight, altered both in pronunciation and in spelling from the fourteen nights out of
which it grew. Such, once more, is our familiar verb breakfast. We gave this name to our morning meal, because it
broke, or interrupted, the longestfast of the day, that which
includes the night's sleep.'We said at first bredkfdst-" i
broke fast at such an hour this morning:" he, or they, who
first ventured to say I breakfasted were guilty of as heinous
a violation of grammatical rule as he would be who should
now declare I takedinnered, instead of I took dinner; but
good usage came over to their side and ratified their blunder,
because the community were minded to give a specific name
to their earliest meal and to the act of partaking of it, and
therefore converted the collocation breakfdst into the real
compound brgakfast.
Yet once mnore, not only are those words in our language
of composite structure, of which at first sight, or on secund




n.]                COMPOUNDED WORDS.                  57
thought, we thus recognize the constituent elements; not a
few, also, which we should not readily conjecture to be other
than simple and indivisible entities, and which could not be
proved otherwise by any evidence which our present speech
contains, do nevertheless, when we trace their history by the
aid of other and older languages than ours, admit of analysis
into component parts.  We will note, as instances, only a
familiar word or two, namely such and which.  The forms of
these words in Anglo-Saxon are swylc and hwylc: with the latter of them the Scottish whilk for which quite closely agrees,
and they also find their near correspondents in the German
soich and welch. On following up their genealogy, from language to language of our family, we find at last that they
are made up of the ancient words for so and who, with the
adjective like added to each: such is so-like,' of that likeness
or sort;' which is who-like,' of what likeness or sort.'
But we turn from compounds like these, in which two
originally independent words are fully fused into one, in
meaning and form, to another class, of much higher importance in the history of language.
Let us look, first, at our wordfearful.  This, upon reflection, is a not less evident compound than fear-inspiring:
our common adjective full is perfectly recognizable as its
final member.  Yet, though such be its palpable origin, it
is, after all, a compound of a somewhat different character
from the other. The subordinate elementfu6ll, owing to its
use in a similar way in a great number of other compounds,
such as careful, truthful, plentiful, dutiful, and the frequent
and familiar occurrence of the words it forms, has, to our
apprehension, in some measure lost the consciousness of its
independent character, and sunk to the condition of a mere
suffix, forming adjectives from nouns, like the suffix ous in
such words as perilous, riotous, plenteous, duteous.  It approaches, too, the character of a suffix, in that its compounds
are not, like fear-inspiring and house-top, directly translatable
back into the elements which form them: plentiful and dutiful do not mean' full of plenty' and' full of duty,' but are
the precise equivalents of plenteous and duteous.  We could
with entire propriety form an adjeeti re from a new noun by




58               DERIVATION OF AFFIXES            [LECT
adding /u? to it, without concerning ourselves as to whether
the corresponding phrase, " full of so and so," would or wculd
not make good sense. And when we hear a Scotchban say
fearfiu', carefu', we both understand him without difficulty,
and do not think of inquiring whether he also clips the ad.
jectivefull tofu'.
The word of opposite meaning, fearless, is not less readily
recognizable as a compound, and our first impulse is to see
in its final element our common word less, to interpretfearless as meaning' minus fear,''deprived of fear,' and so' ex.
empt from fear.' A little study of the history of such words,
however, as it is to be read in other dialects, shows us that
this is a mistake, and that our less has nothing whatever to
do with the compound.  The AngLo-Saxon form of the ending, leas, is palpably the adjectise leas, which is the same
with our word loose; and fearless is primarily' loose from
fear,'"'free from fear.' The originil subordinate member of
the compound has here gone completely through the process
of conversion into a suffix, being so divorced from the words
which are really akin with it that its derivation is greatly
obscured, and a false etymology is suggested to the mind
which reflects upon it.
Take, again, such words as godly, homely, brotherly, lovely.
Here, as in the other cases, each is composed of two parts;
but, while we recognize the one as a noun, having an independent existence in the language, we do not even feel
tempted to regard the other as anything but an adjective
suffix, destitute of separate significance; it appears in our
usage only as an appendage to other words, impressing upon
them a certain modification of meaning. What, however, is
its history?  Upon tracing it up into the older form of our
speech, the Anglo-Saxon, we find that our modern usage has
mutilated it after the same fashion as the Scottish dialect
now mutilates the ful of fearful-by dropping off, namely,
an original final consonant: its earlier form was lie. The
final guttural letter we find preserved even to the present
day in the corresponding suffixes of the other Germanic
languages, as in the German lich, Swedish lig, Dutch lijk.
These facts lead us naturally to the zonjecture that the 8o.




II.]           FROM INDEPENDENT WORDS.               59
called suffix may be nothing more than a metamorphosis of
our common adjective like; and a reference to the oldest
Germanic dialect, the Mceso-G-othic, puts the case beyond
all question; for there we find the suffix and the independent adjective to be in all respects the same, and the derivatives formed with the suffix to be as evident compounds with
the adjective as are our own godlike, childlike, and so on.
Words thus composed are common in all the Germanic
tongues; but we who speak English have given the same
suffix a further modification of meaning, and an extension of
application, which belong to it nowhere else. In our usage
it is an adverbial suffix, by which any adjective whatever
may be converted into an adverb, as in truly, badly, fearfully,
fearlessly. In the old Anglo-Saxon, such adverbs were oblique cases of adjectives in lie, and so, of course, were
derived only from adjectives formed by this ending; the full
adverbial suffix was lice, the e being a case-termination: instances are dnlice,'only, singularly,' from dnlic,' sole, singular,' literally' one-like;' leoflice,'lovelily,' from  ledftic,' lovely.' We moderns, now, have suffered the ending to go
out of use as one forming adjectives, only retaining the adjectives so formed which we have inherited from the ancient
time; but we have taken it up in its adverbial application,
and, ignoring both its original character and its former
limitation to a single class of adjectives, apply it with unrestricted freedom in making an adverb from any adjective
we choose; while, at the same time, we have mutilated its
form, casting off as unnecessary the vowel ending, along
with the consonant to which it was appended. The history
of this adverbial suffix is worthy of special notice, inasmuch
as the suffix itself is the latest addition which our grammati.
cal system has gained in the synthetic way, and as its
elaboration has taken place during the period when the
growth of our language is illustrated by contemporary
documents. The successive steps were clearly as follows:
the adjective like was first added to a number of nouns,
forming a considerable class of adjective compounds, like
those now formed by us with full; then, like the latter word,
it lost in a measure the consciousness of its origin, and wat




10              DERIVATION DF AFFIXES             [LECT,
regarded rather as a suffix, forming derivative adjectives;
one of the oblique cases of these adjectives was next often
employed in an adverbial sense; and the use of the suffix in
its extended form and with its modified application grew in
importance and frequency, until finally it threw quite into
the shade and supplanted the adjective use-and the inde.
pendent adjective had become a mere adverbial ending.
The mutilation of its form went hand in hand with this
obliviousness of its origin and with its transferral to a new
office; each helped on the other.
Another Germanic suffix, ship, as in friendship, worship,
lordship, is distinctly traceable to its origin in the independ.
ent word shape; and its transition of meaning, from' form'
to'aspect, condition, status, rank,' though perhaps less obvious than those which we have already noted, is evidently
a natural and easy one.
A case of somewhat greater difficulty is presented us in
such forms as I loved. Here the final d is, as we say, the
sign of the preterit tense, added to the root love in- order to
adapt it to the expression of past time; and, from the evidence presented in our own language, no suspicion of its
derivation from an independent word would ever cross our
mninds.  Nor does the Anglo-Saxon, nor any other of the
Germanic dialects of the same period, cast any light upon
its origin. Since, however, such a sign of past timo is one
of the distinctive features of the Germanic group of lan.
guages, and is found nowhere else in the greater family to
which these belong, we cannot help assuming that it has
grown up in them since their separation from the rest of the
family: just as the adverbial suffix ly, which is peculiar to
our own tongue, has grown up in it since its separation
from the other Germanic tongues.  It is therefore a form
of comparatively modern introduction, and we might hope
to trace out its genesis. This is, in fact, disclosed to us by
the Mceso-Gothic, the most ancient Germanic dialect, which
stands toward the rest in somewhat the same relation as the
Anglo-Saxon to the English; in its primitive and uncor,
rupted forms we see clearly that the preterits in question
are made by appending to the root of the verb the past




II.]          FROM INDEPENDENT WORDS.                 61
tense of another verb, namely did, from to do.  We tamed is
in Moeso-Gothic tamidedum, which means not less evidently
tame-did-we than the Anglo-Saxon sothlice,'soothly, truly,'
means'in a sooth-like (truth-like) way.' I loved is, then,
originally I love did, that is, I did love-as, unconsciously
repeating in another way the same old act of composition,
we now almost as often say. The history of the suffix has
been quite like that of the ly of truly, save that it happened
longer ago, and is therefore more difficult to read.
All our illustrations hitherto have been taken from the
Germanic part of our language, and they have all been forms
which are peculiar to the Germanic dialects, and which we
have therefore, as already remarked, every reason to believe
of later date than the separation of that group of dialects
from the other tongues with which it stands related. Yet,
with the exception of the adverbial application of the suffix
ly, they are all anterior to the time at which we first make
acquaintance with any Germanic tongue in contemporary
records.  Our confidence in the reality of our etymological
analysis, and in the justness of the inferences drawn from it,
is not on that account any the less: we feel as sure that the
words in question were made by putting together the two
parts into which each is still resolvable as if the whole process of composition had gone on under our own observation.
If this were riot so, if our conclusions respecting the growth
of language were to be limited by the possession of strict
documentary evidence, our researches in linguistic history
would be stopped almost at the outset.  Few languages
have any considerable portion of their development illustrated by contemporary records; literature is wont, at the
best, to cast light upon certain distinct epochs in the history of a dialect, leaving in obscurity the intervening periods;
nor do we ever, by such help, reach a point at all nearly
approaching that of the actual origin of speech. Hence the
necessity resting upon the etymologist of interrogating the
material of language itself, of making words yield up, on
examination, their own history.  He applies the analogy of
processes of change and development which are actually
going on in language to explain the earlier results of the




62               DERIVATION OF AFFIXES            rLiT.
same or like processes.  And, if he work with due caution
and logical strictness, his results are no more exposed to
question than are those of the geologist, who infers, from
the remains of animal and vegetable organisms in deeplyburied rocks, the deposition of those rocks in a period when
animal and vegetable life, analogous with that of our own
day, was abundant.
If, now, we turn our attention to other portions of our
English speech, to those which come to us from the Latin,
or which are of an ancient and primitive growth, we note
the same condition of things as prevailing there also. The
subject admits of the most abundant and varied illustration,
but we must limit ourselves to but an instance or two.
In the series of multiplicative numerals, double, triple,
quadruple, guintuple, and so on, we have a suffix pie, which
is the principal indicator of the grammatical quality of the
words. On following them up into the Latin, whence we
derive them, we find this brief ending to be a mutilated
remnant of the syllable plic, which is a well-known root,
meaning'to bend, to fold.' Double is thus by origin duplic,
by abbreviation from duo-plic, and is, in sense, the precise
Latin equivalent of our Germanic word two-fold. We still
retain the fuller form in duplicate, the learned synonym of
double.
Again, one of the oldest words in our familiar speech is am,
the first person of the verb to be, nor do we see in it any signs
of being otherwise than simple and indivisible. As, however, we trace its history of changes backward, from one to
another of the languages with which our own claims kindred,
we are enabled to discover that its two sounds are the scanty
relics of two separate elements: the first, a, is all that remains of an original syllable as, which expressed the idea of
existence; the other, m, represents an ending, mi, which,
originally a pronoun, and having the same meaning as the
same word, me, still has with us, was employed to limit the
predicate of existence to the person speaking: it was, in
fact, the suffix universally employed, during the earliest
period in the history of our family of languages, to form the
first persons singular of verbs.  Am, then, really contains a




I.]           PFROM INDEPENDENT WORDS.D 
verb and its subject pronoun, and means'be-I;' that is,' I
exist.' The third person of the same verb, is, possesses
virtually a similar character, although linguistic usage, in its
caprice, has dealt somewhat differently with it. As am
stands for as-nmi,'be-I,' so is stands for as-ti,' be-that:' we
have, indeed, woxrn off the second element altogether, so that
our is is the actual representative only of the radical syllable as; but by far the greater number of the Germanic dia.
lects, and of the other descendants from the primitive
tongue in which was first formed the compound asti, have
retained at least the initial consonant of the pronominal
suffix: witness the German ist, the Slavonian yest, the Latin
est, the Greek and Lithuanian esti, the Sanscrit asti, and so
on. It is the same t which, in the form of th or s, still does
service in the regular scheme of conjugation of our verbs, as
ending of the third person singular present: thus, he loveth
or loves.
The examples already given may sufficiently answer our
purpose as illustrations of the way in which suffixes are produced, and grammatical classes or categories of words created.
The adjectives in fil, or the adjectives in less, form together
a related group, having a common character, as derivatives
from nouns, and derivatives possessing a kindred significance,
standing in a certain like relation to their primitives, filling
a certain common office in speech, an office of which the sign
is the syllable ful, or less, their final member or suffix. With
ly, this is still more notably the case: the suffix ly is the
usual sign of adverbial meaning; it makes much the largest
share of all the adverbs we have. A final m, added to a
verbal root, in an early stage of the history of our mothertongue, and yet more anciently an added syllable mi, made
in like manner the first persons singular present of verbs;
as an added s, standing for an original syllable ti, does even
to the present day make our third persons singular. All
these grammatical signs were once independent ele;ments,
words of distinct meaning, appended to other words and compounded with them-appended, not in one or two isolated
cases only, but so often, and in a sense so generally appli.
cable, that they formed whole classes of compounds. There




6"             ACCUMULATION OF AFFIXES,            [LEOT
was nothing about them save this extensibility of their appli.
cation and frequency of their use to distinguish their com.
pounds from such as house-top, break-neck, forehead, fortnight,
and the others of the same class to which we have already
referred. Yet this was quite enough to bring about a change
of their recognized character, from that of distinct words to
that of non-significant appendages to other words. Each
passed over into the condition of a formative element; that
is to say, an element showing the logical form, the grammatical character, of a derivative, as distinguished from its
primitive, the word to which the sign was appended. There
was a time when fear-full, fear-loose, fear-free, free-making,
fear-struck, love-like, love-rich, love-sick, love-lorn, were all
words of the same kind, mere lax combinations; it was only
their different degree of availability for answering the ends
of speech, for supplying the perceived needs of expression,
that caused two or three of them to assume a different character, while the rest remained as they had been,
Often, as every one knows, there is an accumulation of
formative elements in the same word.  In truthfully, for example, we have the adverbial suffix ly added to the primitive
truthful; in which, again, the adjective suffix ful has performed the same office toward the remoter primitive truth.
By the use of a formative element of another kind, a prefix,
we might have made the yet more intricate compound untruthfully.  Nay, further, truth itself contains a suffix, and is
a derivative from the adjective true, as appears from its
analogy with wealth from well, width from wide, strength from
strong, and many other like words; and even true, did we
trace its history to the beginning, we should find ending in
a formative element, and deriving its origin from a verbal
root meaning' to be firm, strong, reliable.' The Latin part
of our language, which includes most of our many-syllabled
words, offers abundant instances of a similar complicated
structure.  Thus, the term  inapplicabilities contains two
prefixes, the negative in and the preposition ad which means'to,' and three suffixes, able, forming adjectives, ty, forming
abstract nouns from adjectives, and s, the plural ending, all
clustered about the verbal roo' plic, which we have already




ln.      ALL OUR WORDS ORIGINALLY COMPOUND.           65
seen itself forming a suffix, in double, triple, and so forthl, and
which conveys the idea of' bending' or'folding.'  By suc.
cessive extensions and modifications of meaning, by transferral
from one category to another through means of their appropriate signs, we have developed this simple idea into a form
which can only be represented by the long paraphrase'numerous conditions of being not able to bend (or fit) to
something.'
With but few exceptions-which, moreover, are only ap.
parent ones-all the words of our language admit of such
analysis as this, which discovers in them at least two
elements, whereof the one conveys the central or fundamental
idea, and the other indicates a restriction, application, or
relation of that idea.  Even those brief vocables which
appear to us of simplest character can be proved either to
exhibit still, like am for as-mi, the relic of a mutilated formative element, or, like is for as-ti, to have lost one which
they formerly possessed. This, then, in our language (as in
the whole family of languages to which ours is related), is
the normal constitution of a word: it invariably contains a
radical and a formal portion; it is made up of a root combined
with a suffix, or with a suffix and prefix, or with more than
one of each.  In more technical phrase, no word is unformed;
no one has been a mere significant entity, without designation of its relation, without a sign putting it in some class
or category.
It is plain, therefore, that a chief portion of linguistic
analysis must consist, not in the mere dismembering of such
words as we usually style compounded, but in the distinction
from one another of radical and formal elements; in the
isolation of the central nucleus, or root, from the affixes
which have become attached to it, and the separate recognition of each affix, in its individual form and office.  Bat our
illustrations have, as I think, made it not less plain that
there is no essential and ultimate difference in the two cases:
in the one, as in the other, our process of analysis is the retracing of a previous synthesis, whereby two independent
elements were combined and integrated. That this is so to
a certain extent is a truth so palpable as to admit of neither




66              ALL FORMATIVE ELEMENTS-           [I CT.
denial nor doubt.  Had there been in the Glermanic lan.
guages no such adjective as full, no such derivative adjectives
as fearful and truthful would have grown up in them; if they
had possessed no adjective like, they would never have gained
such adjectives as godly and lovely, nor such adverbs as fearfully and truly.  So also with friendship, with loved, with
am and is, and the rest. No inconsiderable number of the
formative elements of our tongue, in every department of
grammar and of word-formation, can be thus traced back to
independent words, with which they were at first identical,
out of which they have grown. It is true, at the same time,
that a still larger number do not allow their origin to be
discovered. But we have not, on that account, the right to
conclude that their history is not of the same character. In
grammar, as everywhere else, like effects presuppose like
causes.  We have seen how  the formative elements are
liable to become corrupted and altered, so that the signs of
their origin are obscured, and may even be obliterated. The
full in truthful is easy enough to recognize, but a little historical research is necessary in order to show us the like
which is contained in truly. Hateful is, for aught we know,
as old a compound as lovely, but linguistic usage has chanced
to be more merciful to the evidence of descent in the former
case than in the latter. A yet more penetrating investigation is required ere we discover our pronoun me in the word
am, or our imperfect did in I loved; and, but for the happy
chance that preserved to us the one or two fragmentary
manuscripts in which are contained our only records of
Mceso-Gothic speech, the genesis of the latter form would
always have remained an unsolved problem, a subject for ingenious conjecture, but beyond the reach of demonstration.
The loss of each intermediate stage, coming between any
given dialect and its remotest ancestor, wipes out a portion
of the evidence which would explain the origin of its forms.
If English stood all alone among the other languages of the
earth, but an insignificant part of its word-history could be
read; its kindred dialects, contemporary and older, help us
to the discovery of a much larger portion; and the preservation of authentic records of every period of its life would,




ZI.]       ORIGINALLY INDEPENDENT WVORDS.           67
as we cannot hesitate to believe, make clear the rest. There
is no break in the chain of analogical reasoning which compels the linguistic student to the conviction that his analyses
are everywhere real, and distinguish those elements by the
actual combination of which words were originally made up.
On this conviction rests, for him, the value of his analytical
processes: if they are to be regarded as in part historical
and real, in part only theoretical and illusory, his researches
into the history of language are baffled; he is in pursuit of
a phantom, and not of truth.
Wherever, then, our study of words brings us to the re-.
cognition of an element having a distinct meaning and office,
employed in combination with other elements for the uses of
expression, there we must recognize an originally independent entity.  The parts of our words were once themselves
words.
Some of the remoter consequences involved in this principle will engage our attention at a more advanced stage of
our inquiries into the history of human speech: our present
purpose only requires us to notice that, since all known
words have been constructed by putting together previously
existing items of speech, the combination of old materials
into new forms, the making of compounds, with frequent accompanying reduction of one of their members to a merely
formal significance, is a very prcminent part of the mechan.
ism of language, one of the most fundamental and important
of the processes by which are carried on its perpetual
growth and change, its organic development. What other
processes are the concomitants and auxiliaries of this one,
we shall go or to inquire in the next lecture.




LECTURE III.
Phonetic change; its ground, action on compound words, part in word.
making, and destructive effects. Replacement of one mode of formal
distinction by another. Extension of analogies. Abolition of valuable
distinctions. Conversion of sounds into one another.  Physical characters of alphabetic sounds; physical scheme of the English alphabet.
Obsolescence and loss of words. Changes of meaning; their ground
and  methods.  Variety of meanings of one word.  Synonyms.
Conversion of physical into spiritual meaning. Attenuation of meaning; production of form-words.  Variety of derivatives from one
root. Unreflectiveness of the process of making names and forms,
Conceptions antedate their names. Reason of a name historical, and
founded in convenience, not necessity. Insignificance of derivation
in practical use of language.
IT will be our present task to continue the examination
and illustration of the processes of linguistic growth which
we began at our last interview. We completed at that time
our preliminary inquiries into the mode of preservation and
transmission of language, and were guided by them to a
recognition of the true nature of the force which alone is
efficient in all the operations of linguistic life —the events,
as we may more properly style them, of linguistic history. It
was found to be the will of men: every word that exists,
exists only as it is uttered or written by the voluntary effort
of human organs; it is changed only by an action proceeding
from individuals, and ratified by the general consent of speakers and writers.  Language, then, is neither an organism
nor a physical product; and its study is not a physical but
a moral science, a branch of the history of the human race
and of human institutions.  The method of its investigation




iII.]            PHONETIC CORRUPTION.              69
is historical, an endeavour to trace backward —even to the
beginning, if the recorded evidence permit-the processes
by which our own speech, or human speech in general, has
become what it is, and to discover the rationale of those pro.
cesses, the influences under which they have been carried
on, and the ends which they have been intended to subserve.
We took up first, accordingly, the process of combination
of old material in language into new forms, and exhibited its
universal agency in the production of the present constituents of speech. Not only are words put together to form
what to our sense are and still remain ordinary compounds,
but such compounds are further fused into a deceitful likeness to simple vocables; or, what is of yet more frequent
occurrence and more important bearing, one of their mem.
bers sinks to a subordinate position, and becomes a suffix,
without recognized separate signification.  This, it was
claimed, is the way in which all formative elements, all signs
of grammatical categories, have originated; and as every
word in our language either contains, or has contained and
been deprived of, a formative element, or more than one, the
process of composition is one whose range and importance
in linguistic history cannot easily be over-estimated.
But the same examples on which we relied to show how,
and how extensively, words are compounded together and
forms produced, have shown us not less clearly that mutilation and loss of the elements employed by language, and of
the compounds and forms into which they enter, are also
constant accompaniments of linguistic growth. "All that
is born must die " seems a law almost as inexorable in the
domnain of speech as in that of organic life. We have next
to turn our attention to the principles underlying this department of linguistic change, and to some of the modes of
its action and t]e effects which it produces.
And the first and most important principle which we
have to notice, the one which lies at the bottom of nearly
all phonetic change in language, is the tendency, already
alluded to and briefly illustrated in our first lecture, to make
the work of utterance easier to the speaker, to put a more
facile in the stead of a more difficult sound or combination




70                  PHONETIC CHANGE               [LECTO
of sounds, and to get rid altogether of what is unnecessary
in the words we use. All articulate sounds are produced by
effort, by expenditure of muscular energy, in the lungs,
throat, and mouth. This effort, like every other which man
makes, he has an instinctive disposition to seek relief from,
to avoid: we may call it laziness, or we may call it economy;
it is, in fact, either the one or the other, according to the
circumstances of each separate case: it is laziness when it
gives up more than it gains; economy, when it gains more
than it abandons. Every item of language is subject to its
influence, and it works itself out in greatly various ways;
we will give our first consideration to the manner in which
its action accompanies, aids, and modifies that of the process
of composition of old material into new forms, as last set
forth.  For it is composition,-the building up of words out
of elements formerly independent, that opens a wide field
to the operation of phonetic change, and at the same time
gives it its highest importance as an agency in the production and modification of language. If all words were of
simple structure and brief form, their alterations would be
confined within comparatively narrow limits,.and would be
of inferior consequence as constituting one of the processes
of linguistic growth. Our adjective like, for example, is but
slightly altered in our usage from the form which it had in
the Anglo-Saxon (lec) and the Mceso-Gothic (leik); while,
in the compounds into which it has entered, it is mutilated
even past recognition: in the adjectives and adverbs like
godly and truly, it has been deprived of its final consonant,
in such and which (A.-S. swylc, hwylc; M.-G. swaleik, hwaleik),
it has saved only the final consonant, and that in a greatly
modified shape. Our preterit did is, indeed, but a remnant
of its older self, but in love-d it has reached a much lower
stage of reduction.
The reason which makes phonetic change rifest in linguistic combinations is the same with that which creates the
possibility of any phonetic change at all in language. It is
inherent in the nature of a word, and its relation to the
idea which it represents. A word, as we have already seen,
is not the natural reflection of an idea, nor its description,




III.]             IN COMPOUND WORDS.                   71
nor its definition; it is only its designation, an arbitrary
and conventional sign with which we learn to associate it
Hence it has no internal force conservative of it's identity,
but is exposed to all the changes which external circumstances, the needs of practical use, the convenience and
caprice of those who employ it, may suggest. When we
have once formed a compound, and applied it to a given
purpose, we are not at all solicitous to keep up the memory
of its origin; we are, rather, ready to forget it. The word
once coined, we accept it as an integral representative of
the conception to which we attach it, and give our whole
attention to that, not concerning ourselves about its derivation, or its etymological aptness. Practical convenience becomes the paramount consideration, to which every other is
made to give way. Let us look at an example or two. There
is a certain class of insects, the most brilliant and beautiful
which the entomologist knows. Its most common species,
both in the Old world and the New, are of a yellow colour;
clouds of these yellow flutterers, at certain seasons, swarm
upon the roads and fill the air. Because, now, butter is or
ought to be yellow, our simple and unromantic ancestors
called the insect in question the 6butterfly, as they called a cer.
tain familiar yellow flower the buttercup.  In our usage, this
word has become the name, not of the yellow species only,
but of the whole class. And, though its form is unmutilated,
and its composition as clear as on the day when the words
were first put together to make it, probably not one person
In a hundred of those who employ it has ever thought of its
origin, or considered why it was applied to the use in which
it serves him. We no longer invest it with the paltry and
prosaic associations which, from its derivation, would naturally
cluster about it; it has become, from long alliance in our
thoughts with the elegant creatures which it designates, instinct with poetic beauty and grace.
Again, some ancient navigator, who discovered a certain
huge island on the north-eastern coast of America, had not
ingenuity enough to devise a better appellation for it than
the new-found land.  Such a name was evidently no more
applicable to this than to any other of the newly-discovered




72              OBLIVION OF DERIVATION.           [LECT.
regions in that age of discovery, yet men learned by degrees
to employ it as the proper title of this particular island.
At first, doubtless, they pronounced it distinctly, new-found
land; but no sooner had the words fully acquired the character of a specific name for a single thing, than they began to
receive the stamp of formal unity, by the accentuation of one
of the three syllables, and the subordination of the rest, in
quantity and distinctness of tone. There was, to be sure, a
difficulty about deciding which of three constituents of so
nearly equal value should receive the principal stress of
voice, and our practice varies even now between Newfouind.
land and Niwfoi-ndland, while we occasionally even hear NewfoiIndldnd: but good usage will finally decide in favour of
one of these modes, and will reject the others. How little
is the primary meaning of the compound present to the
minds of those who utter it! And when, transferring the
name of the island to one of its most noted products, we
speak of some one as " the fortunate owner of a fine New.
foundland," how little we realize that, in terms, we are as.
serting his lordship over a recently discovered territory!
The two words which we have instanced have suffered no
modification, or only a very slight one, of their original form
since they were put together out of separate elements. But it
is clear enough that this readiness to forget the etymological meaning of a word in favour of its derivative application,
to sink its native condition in its official character, prepares
the way for mutilation and mutation. We have put together, to form the title of a certain petty naval officer, the
two words boat and swain, and we know what the word
means, and why: the sailors, too, know what, but the why
is a matter of indifference to them; they have no leisure for
a full pronunciation of such cumbrous compounds as boatswai'n; they cut it down to bos'n; and it is a chance if a
single one among them who has not learned to read and
write can tell you how he of the whistle comes by such a title.
So also, the mariner calls to'gal'nts'ls what we land-lubbers
know by the more etymologically correct, but more lumber.
ing, name of topgallantsails.  And these are but typical examples of what has been the history of language from the




[II.]   VALUABLE ACTION OF PHONETIC CORRUPTION.    73
beginning.  No sooner have men coined a woid than they
have begun-not, of course, with deliberate forethought,
but spontaneously, and as it were unconsciously-to see
how the time and labour expended in its utterance could be
economized, how any complicated and difficult combination
of sounds which it presented could be worked over into a
shape better adapted for fluent utterance, how it could be
contracted into a briefer form, what part of it could be
spared without loss of intelligibility.
Thus-to recur to some of our former illustrations-as
soon as we are ready to forego our separate memory of the
constituents of such compounds as bredk-fdst, fore-hiad, fo rteen-night, that we may give a more concentrated attention to
the unity of signification which we confer upon them, we begin to convert them into breiakfast, ffre'd, fdrthnt.  And the
case is the same with all those combinations out of which grow
formative elements and forms.  While we have clearly in mind
the genesis of god-like, father-like, and so forth, we are little
likely to mutilate either part of them: our apprehension of
the latter element as no longer coordinate with the former,
but as an appendage to it, impressing upon it a modification
of meaning, and our reduction of the subordinate element to
iy, thus turning the words into godly andfatherly, are processes that go hand:;l hand together, each helping the other.
This brings us tol-  recognition of the important and valuable part played by the tendency to ease of utterance, and
by the phonetic changes which it prompts, in the construction of the fabric of language.  If a word is to be taken
fully out of the condition of constituent member of a compound, and made a formative element, if a compound is thus
to be converted into a form, or otherwise fused togethe- into
an integral word, it must be by the help of some external
modification.   Our words thiankful, feaf/ul, truthful, and
their like, are, by our too present apprehension of the independent significance of their final syllable, kept out of the
category of pure derivatives.  Phonetic corruption makes
the difference between a genuine form-word, like godly, and
a combination like godlike, which is far less plastic and
adaptable to the varying needs of practical us(e; it makes the




74           PHONETIC CORRUPTION MAKES           [LECT.
difference between a synthetic combination, like I loved, and
a mere analytic collocation, like I did love. It alone renders
possible true grammatical forms, which make the wealth and
power of every inflective language. We sometimes laugh at
the unwieldiness of the compounds which our neighbour language, the German, so abundantly admits; words like Ritter.
gutsbesitzer,'knight's-property-possessor,' or Schuhmacherhandwerk,' cobbler's-trade,' seem to us too cumbrous for use;
but half the vocables in our own tongue would be as bulky
and awkward, but for the abbreviation which phonetic change
has wrought upon them. Without it, such complicated de.
rivatives as untruthfully, inapplicabilities, would have no
advantage over the tedious paraphrases with which we should
now render their precise etymological meaning.
Change, retrenchment, mutilation, disguise of derivation is,
then, both the inevitable and the desirable accompaniment of
such composition as has formed the vocabulary of our, spoken
tongue. It stands connected with tendencies of essential
consequence, and is part of the wise economy of speech. It
contributes to conciseness and force of expression. It is the
sign and means of the integration of words.  It disencum.
bers terms of traditional remembrances, which would otherwise disturb the unity of attention that ought to be concentrated upon the sign in its relation to the thing signified. It
makes of a word, instead of a congeries of independent enti.
ties, held together by a loose bond and equally crowding
themselves upon the apprehension, a unity, composed of duly
subordinated parts.
But the tendency which works out these valuable results
is, at the same time, a blind, or, to speak more exactly, an
unreflecting one, and its action is also in no small measure
destructive; it pulls down the very edifice which it helps to
build. Its direct aim is simply ease and convenience; it
seeks, as we have seen, to save time and labour to the users
of language. There may be, it is evident, waste as well as
economy in the gratification of such a tendency; abbreviation
may be carried beyond the limits of that which can be well
dispensed with; ease and convenience may be consulted by
the sacriice of what is of worth, as well ss by the rejection




.III]            AD UNMAKES WORDS.                   75
ot what is unnecessary.  No language, indeed, in the
mouths of a people not undergoing mental and moral im.
poverishbient, gives up, upon the whole, any of its resources
of expression, lets go aught of essential value for which it
does not retain or provide an equivalent. But an item may
be dropped here and there, which, upon reflection, seems a
regrettable loss. And a language may, at least, become
greatly altered by the excessive prevalence of the wearingout processes, abandoning much which in other and kindred
languages is retained and valued. It is the more necessary
that we take notice of the disorganizing and destructive
workings of this tendency, inasmuch as our English speech
is, above all other cultivated tongues upon the face of the
earth, the one in which they have brought about the most
radical and sweeping changes.
It has already been remarked (p. 62) that, in the earliest
traceable stage of growth of our language, the first person
singular of its verbs was formed by an ending mi, of which
the m in am is a relic, and the only one which we have left.
In Latin, too, it remains in the present indicative of only
two words, sum and inquam, and in Greek, in the comparatively small class of " verbs in mi," like tithemi, did6mi.  But
the history of verbal conjugation can be better illustrated by
considering the changes wrought upon another set of endings,
those of the plural. At the same early period of its develop.
ment, the tongue from which ours is descended had an
elaborate series of terminations to denote the first, second,
and third persons plural of its verbs. In the oldest form in
which we can trace them-when, however, they had already
acquired the character of true formative elements-they
were masi, tasi, and nti. By origin, they were pronominal
compounds, which had " grown on " to the end of the verbal
root-that is to say, had first been habitually spoken in connection with the root, then attached to it, and finally integrated with it, in the manner already illustrated: they
mneant respectively,' I and thou', i.e.'we';'he and thou',
i.e.' ye'; alid'they'.  Thus layamasi, lagatasi, laganti, for
instance, signified at first, in a manner patent to ever)
speaker's apprehension,' lie-we',' lie-ye',' lie-they': it would




27                DESTRUCTIVE EFFECTS              [LEOT.
have seemed as superfluous, in using these forms, to put the
subject pronouns a second time before them, as it would seem
to us now to say I did loved, for I loved. But the consciousness of the origin of the endings becoming dimmed, and their
in dependent meaning lost from view, they were left to undergo the inevitable process of reduction to a simpler form.
As they appear in the Latin, they have suffered a first process of abbreviation, by rejection of the final vowel of each:
they have become mus, tis, and nt, as in legimnus, legitis, legunt,'we read, ye read, they read.' The ancient Gothic,
the most primitive of the Germanic dialects, exhibits them in
a yet succincter form, the first two having been cut down to
their initial letter only: thus, ligam, ligith, ligand.  Thus far,
each ending has, through all its changes, preserved its identity,
and is adequate to its office; however mutilated and corrupted
in form, they are still well distinguished from one another,
and sufficiently characteristic. But it was now coming to be
usual to put the pronouns before the verb in speaking. At
first added occasionally, for greater emphasis, they had, as the
pronominal character of the endings faded altogether from
memory, become customary attendants of the verb in all the
persons-save as, in the third person, their place was taken
by the more varied subjects which that person admits. Since,
then, the expressed subjects were of themselves enough to
indicate the person, distinctive endings were no longer
needed. Under the influence of this consideration, the Anglo-Saxon had reduced all the plural terminations to one-atk
in the present, on in the imperfect —saying we liegath, ge licgath, hi licgath.  Although this last was, in its inception,
much such a blunder as is now committed by the vulgar among
ourselves who say I is, says I, and so on, it was adopted and
ratified by the community, because it was only a carrying out
of the legitimate tendency to neglect and eliminate distinctions
which are practically unnecessary; and all the other Germanic dialects have done the same thing, in whole or in part.
We, finally, have carried the process to its furthest possible limit, by casting off the suffixes altogether; and with
them, in this particular verb, even the final consonant of the
root: as we say I lie, so we also say we lie, ye, lie, they lie,




II.i]            OF PHONETIC CHANGE.                 77
We do not feel that we have thus sacrificed aught of that dis.
tinctness of expression which should be aimed at in language;
we lie is not less unambiguous than layamasi; it is, in fact,
a composition of equivalent elements in another mode; just
as I did love is, in a different form, the same combination
with I loved.
In the declension of our nouns we have effected a more
thorough revolution, if that be possible, than in the conjugation of our verbs. The ancient tongue from which our English is the remote descendant inflected its nouns, substantive
and adjective, in three numbers, each containing eight cases.
Of the numbers, the Anglo-Saxon had almost wholly given
up one, the dual, retaining only scanty relics of it in the pronouns; and, of the cases, it had in familiar use but four-the
nominative, genitive, dative, and accusative-with traces of a
fifth, the instrumental. The dual, indeed, on account of its
little practical value, has disappeared in nearly all the modern
languages of our family, its duties being assumed by the plural;
and the prepositions have long been usurping the office of the
case-endings, and rendering these dispensable. In English,
now, all inflection of the adjective has gone out of use, and
we have saved for our substantives only one of the cases, the
genitive or possessive-to which a few of the pronouns add
also an accusative or objective: thus, he, his, him, they, their,
them, etc. Here, too, we should be loth to acknowledge that
we have given up what the true purposes of language required
us to keep, that we can speak our minds any less distinctly
than our ancestors could, with all their apparatus of inflections.
A remarkable example of the total abandonment of a conspicuous department of grammatical structure, without any
compensating substitution, is furnished in our treatment of
the matter of gender.  The grammatical distinction of words
as masculine, feminine, or neuter, by differences of termination and differences of declension, had been from the very
earliest period the practice of all the languages of the family
to which the English belongs. It was applied not alone to
names of objects actually possessed of sex, but to all, of whatever kind, even to intellectual and abstract terms; the whole
language was the scene of an immense personification, w here.




78          ONE MODE OF FORMAL DISTINCTION        [LECT
by sexual qualities were attributed to everything ill the world
both of nature and of mind: often on the ground of conceptions and analogies which we find it excessively difficult to
recognize and appreciate.  This state of things still prevailed
in the Anglo-Saxon: nouns were masculine, feminine, and'
neuter, according to the ancient tradition (for example, toth,'tooth,' was masculine; syn,'sin,' was feminine; and wf,'wife, woman,' was neuter); and every adjective and adjective-pronoun was declined in the three genders, and made to
agree with its noun in gender as well as in number and case,
just as if it were Latin or Greek. But in that vast decay
and ruin of grammatical forms which attended the elaboration
of our modern English out of its Saxon and Norman elements,
the distinctive suffixes of gender and declension have disappeared along with the rest; and with them has disappeared
this whole scheme of artificial distinctions, of such immemorial
antiquity and wide acceptance. It has completely passed from
our memory and our conception, leaving not a trace behind;
the few pronominal forms indicative of sex which we have
saved-namely, he, she, it, his and himn, her, and its-we use
only according to the requirements of actual sex or its
absence, or to help a poetic personification; and we think it
very inconvenient, and even hardly fair, that, in learning
French and German, we are called upon to burden ourselves
with arbitrary and unpractical distinctions of grammatical
gender.
The disposition to rid our words of whatever in them
is superfluous, or can be spared without detriment to dis.
tinctness of expression, has led in our language, as in many
others, to curious replacements of an earlier mode of indicating meaning by one of later date, and of inorganic originthat is to say, not produced for the purpose to which it
is applied.  Thus we have a few plurals, of which men from
man, feet from foot, and mice from mouse are familiar examples, which constitute noteworthy exceptions to our
general rule for the formation of the plural number. Comparison of the older dialects soon shows us that the change
of vowel in such words as these was originally an accident
only; it was not significant, but euphonic; it was called out




III.]             REPLACED BY ANOT'IER.                79
by the vowels of certain case-endings, which assimilated the
vowels of the nouns to which they were attached. So little
wvs the altered vowel in Anglo-Saxon a sign of plurality,
that it was found also in one of the singular cases, while two
of the plural cases exhibited the unchanged vowel of the
theme.  MJan, for instance, was thus declined:
Singular.             Plural.
Nom.      man,' man';     men,' men.'
Gen.      mannes,' man's';    manna,' men's.'
Dat.      men,'to man';    mannum,'to men.'
Accus.    man,' man';      men,       men.'
But the nominative and accusative singular exhibited
one vowel, and the nominative and accusative plural another;.
and so this incidental difference of pronunciation between
the forms of most frequent occurrence in the two numbers
respectively came to appear before the popular apprehension
as indicative of the distinction of number; its genesis was
already long forgotten, as the case-endings which called it out
nhad disappeared; and now it was fully invested with a new
office-though only in a few rather arbitrarily selected cases:
the word book, for example, has the same hereditary right to
a plural beck, instead of books, as has foot to a plural feet, instead offoots.* The case is quite the same as if, at present,
because we pronounce ndtional (with " short a") the adjective
derived from ndtion, we should come finally to neglect as
unnecessary the suffix al, and should allow  nation and
ndtion to answer to one another as corresponding substantive
and adjective.
A very similar case of substitution of distinctions origin.
ally accidental for others of formal and organic growth appears also in some of our verbs. From dcelan,' to deal,' the
Anglo-Saxon formed, by the usual suffixes of conjugation,
the imperfect delde and the participle dceled.  In our
inouthing over of these forms to suit our ideas of convenient pronunciation, we have established a difference
of vowel sound among them, saying I d;al, but he dgalt and
we have dealt.  Here is an internal distinction, of euphonic
* The plural of bRe in Anglo-Saxon is Mbc, as that off6t isfgt.




80                   HISTORY OF THE                [LECT.
origin, accompanying and auxiliary to the external distinction of conjugational endings.  But, among the not in.
considerable number of verbs exhibiting this secondary
change of vowel, there are a few, ending in d, in which
we have elevated it to a primary rank, casting away the
endings as inconvenient and unnecessary. Thus, where the
Anglo-Saxon says ledan, laedde, lceded, and rcedan, rcedde,
rceded, we say I lead, he lMd, we have led, and I read, he read,
we have read-not even taking the trouble, in the latter
instance, to vary the spelling to conform to the pronunciation.
Yet another analogous phenomenon has a much higher
antiquity, wider prevalence, and greater importance, among
the languages of the Germanic family: it is the change
of radical vowel in what we usually call the " irregular " conjugation of verbs. The imperfect and participle of sing, for
example, are distinguished from one another and from the
present solely by a difference of vowel: thus, sing, sang, sung.
Other verbs exhibit only a twofold change, their participle
agreeing with either the present or the imperfect; thus,
come, came, come; bind, bound, bound.  That this mode of
conjugation is Germanic only, proves that it arose after the
separation of the Germanic languages from the greater
family of which these form a branch. It is, in fact, like the
other changes of vowel in declension and conjugation which
we have just been considering, of euphonic origin, and it has
acquired its present value and significance in comparatively
modern times: indeed, the English alone has suffered it to
reach its full development as a means of grammatical expression, by generally rejecting all aid from other sources
than the variation of vowels in distinguishing the verbal
forms from one another.  In the Anglo-Saxon, it still wore
in great measure a euphonic aspect: that language had its
separate affixes for the infinitive and participle; it said
3ingan,'to sing,' and sungen,' sung;' and its present, ic singe,
and its preterit, ic sang, were distinguished in every person
but one by terminations of different form: the varying scale
of vowels, then, was only auxiliary to the sense, not essential
— and it had, and still has, to a considerable extent, thb




II.],        ERMANIC PRETERITS.                81
same value in the other Germanic dialects, ancient an 3
modern. Moreover, there were other frequent changes of
vowel in verbal conjugation, in other forms than these: the
second and third persons singular present often differed
from the first, and in a very large class of verbs the preterit
plural differed from the singular.  Thus, from helpan,' to
help', for example, we have ic helpe,'I help'; he hylpth,' he helpeth'; ic healp,' I helped'; we hulpon,' we helped';
and finally holpen,' helped'-a fivefold play of vowel change.
We, in our unconscious endeavour to utilize what was
practically valuable in this condition of things, and to reject
the rest from use, have retained and now admit, at most, a
threefold variation, and have made it directly and independently significant, by casting away the needless terminations.
An interesting illustration of the way in which phonetic
corruption sometimes creates a necessity for new forms, and
leads to their production, is to be noted in connection with
this subject. The Germanic preterits were originally formed by means of a reduplication, like the Greek and some of
the Latin perfects;* but the variation of a radical vowel
had, to no small extent, supplanted it, assuming its office
and causing its disappearance in the great majority of ancient verbs. Its recognition as the sign of past meaning,
and its application to the formation of preterits from new
verbs, were thus broken up and rendered ineffective.  At
the same time, the change of vowel was too irregular and
seemingly capricious to supply its place in such uses; there
was no single analogy presented before the minds of the
language-makers, which could be securely and intelligently
followed. Hence, for all derivative and denominative verbs
-additions by which every language is constantly enriching
its stores of verbal expression-a new kind of past tense
had to be formed, by composition with the old reduplicated
preterit did, as has been already explained. This being soon
converted into a suffix, and the number of preterits formed by
means of it increasing greatly and rapidly, it became by
degrees the more common indicator of pars action, and warns
* See below, lecture vii. p. 268.
6




82       OUR POSSESSIVE AND PLURAL ENDINGS.    [LECT.
recognized as such by the popular apprehension.  From
that time, it began to exhibit a tendency to extend its sphere
of application at the expense of the more ancient modes of
forming the preterit tense-the same tendency which shows
itself so noticeably now in every child who learns the English language, inclining him to say I bringed, Igoed, I seed,
until with much pains he is taught the various " irregular "
forms, and is made to employ them as prevailing usage
directs. Prevailing usage has in our language already ratified a host of such blunders; a large portion of the ancient
Germanic verbs, formerly inflected after the analogy of sing,
come, bind, give, and their like, we now conjugate "regularly."  One instance we have had occasion to notice abovethe verb help, of which the ancient participle holpen, instead
of helped, is still to be found in our English Bibles: others
are bake, creep, fold, leap, laugh, smoke, starve, wade, wield.
Further examples of the same tendency toward extension
of prevailing analogies beyond their historically correct
2imits are to be seen in the present declension of our nouns.
The letter s is, with us, the sign of all possessive cases, not
in the singular number alone, but in the plural also of such
words as do not form their plural in s; thus, man's, men's;
child's, children's. In the Anglo-Saxon, it was the genitive
ending of the singular only, and by no means in all nouns:
the feminines, without exception, and many masculines and
neuters, formed their genitives in other ways. But it was
the possessive sign in a majority of substantives, and there
was no other distinctive ending which had the same office;
and accordingly, it came to be so associated with the relation of possession in the minds of English speakers, that, in
the great change and simplification of grammatical apparatus
which attended the transition of Anglo-Saxon into English,
its use was gradually extended, till at last no exceptions
were left.  A like treatment has given our plural suffix the
range of application which it now exhibits. Less than half
the Anglo-Saxon nouns had plurals in s: it was restricted
to a single gender, the masculine, nor did it even form all
the masculine plurals; while, in our usage, it is almost uni.
versal, the only exceptions being the anomalous forms alrea iy




III.]        MOBILIZATION OF NEW WORDS.            88
referred to (men, mice, feet, etc.), and the few words, like
oxen fromn ox, in which we have retained relics of another
mode of declension, once belonging to a large class of nouns.
The prevalence which this suffix has attained in our language has been plausibly conjectured to be in part due to
the influence of the French-speaking Normans, in whose
own tongue s was the plural-sign in all nouns, having become
such by a similar extension of its original Latin use.
This extensibility of application is a part of the essential
and indispensable character of a formative element. We
have not to go over and over again with the primitive act
of composition and the subsequent reduction, in each separate case. It needs only that there be words enough in
familiar use in a language, in which a certain added element
distinctly impresses a certain modification of meaning upon
certain plainly recognizable primitives, and we establish a
direct association between that element and the given modification of meaning, and are ready to apply the former wherever we wish to signify the latter. The ending ly, for in.
stance, we use when we want to make an adverb, without
any thought of whether the adjective like would or would
not be properly combinable with the word to which we add
the ending. This alone makes it possible to mobilize, so
to speak, our linguistic material, to use our old and new
words in all the circumstances among which they are liable
to fall. We adopt into our common speech a new term like
telegraph; it was manufactured out of the stores of expression of the ancient Greek language, by some man versed in
that classic tongue, and is implicitly accepted, under the
sanction and recommendation of the learned, by the public
at large, who neither know nor care for its etymology, who
know only that they want a name for a thing, and that this
answers their purpose. It thus becomes to all intents and
purposes an English word, a naturalized citizen in our tongue,
invested with all the rights and duties of a native-and divested, also, of those which belonged to it by hereditary descent,
among its own kith and kin.  We proceed, accordingly, to
apply to it a whole apparatus of English inflections, long
since worked out by the processes of linguistic change, and




84                  OBLITERATION OF                  [LECT,
not yet destroyed by the same processes. We make of it a
verb, in various forms: he telegraphs, they telegraphed, I shall
telegraph, we are telegraphing, the art of telegraphing; other
nouns come from it, as telegrapher, telegraphist, telegraphy;
we can turn it into an adjective, telegraphic; and this, again,
into an adverb, telegraphically. Historical congruency is the
last thing we think of in all this. To a Greek word we add,
without compunction, endings of wholly diverse descent:
the greater part are Germanic, coming down to us from the
Anglo-Saxon; but one or two, ic, ical, are Latin; and at
least one, ist,. comes ultimately from the Greek.  Made up,
as our English language is, out of two diverse tongues,
Anglo-Saxon and Norman-French, and with more or less intermixture of many others, such a condition of things could
not be avoided; it is, while practically one homogeneous
tongue, historically a composite structure, both in vocabulary
and in grammar. Its grammatical apparatus, its system of
mobile endings, whereby words may be derived, inflected,
and varied, is, indeed, in its larger and more essential part
Germanic; but it is also in no insignificant measure Latin;
while hosts of Latin words receive Germanic endings, not a
few Germanic words appear invested with Latin and French
affixes, which have more or less fully acquired in our use the
value of formative elements: such are dis-belief re-light, forbear-ance, atone-ment, odd-ity, huntr-ess, eat-able, talk-ative.*
Hitherto we have taken note only of those effects of the
wearing-out process in language which lead to the substitu
tion of one means of expression for another, or which, as in
the case of grammatical gender, do away with luxuries of
expression which any tongue can well afford to dispense
with. But that popular use is not content with abolishing
distinctions which are wanting in practical value, with giving
up what is otherwise replaced, or can be spared without loss,
we shall be fully persuaded, if we merely note what is all
the time going on around us.  The wholly regrettable inaccuracies of heedless speakers, their confusion of things
which ought to be carefully held apart, their obliteration of
* These examples are taken from Professor iadley's " Brief History of
ihe Engolish Language, " prefixed to the latest editionof Webster's Dictionary,




III.]            VALUABLE DISTINCTIONS.                  83
valuable distinctions-all these are part and parcel of the
ceaseless changes of language, and not essentially different
from the rest; they are only that part against which the
best public sentiment, a healthy feeling for the conservation
of linguistic integrity, arrays itself most strongly, and which
therefore are either kept down altogether, or come but
slowly and sparingly to acceptance.  Let us note a few in.
stances of such linguistic degeneration.
There is in English a long-standing tendency to efface the
distinction of form between the imperfect and participle,
usually assimilating the former to the latter, though not infrequently also the latter to the former.  Spoke and broke,
for spake and brake, held for holden, and many others, are of
recent acceptance, but now impregnably established; from
begin, and a considerable class of like verbs, the two forms
he began and he begun, and so forth, are in nearly equal
favour;* he come for he came, I done for I did, and others
like them, are still blunders and vulgarisms; and we may
hope that they will always continue such. These alterations
find support in one of the analogies of the language, which
has doubtless done much to call them forth.  In our regular
verbs, namely, there is an entire coincidence of form between
the preterit and participle.  The careless speaker reasonsnot consciously, but in effect-thus: If I say I gained and
I have gained, I dealt and I have dealt, why not also I sung
and I have sung, he drank and he has drank, Zce held and we
have held, they done and they have done?
It is not often, perhaps, that the preterit and participle
will stand in connections which fail to show distinctly which
form is meant by the speaker or writer. But we have also
a few verbs-of which put is a familiar example-in which
all distinction of present and preterit is likewise lost: if we
say they put, the general requirements of the sense alone
can point out the tense, just as if the phrase were so much
Chinese.
* This variation is of ancient Late, and doubtless founded upcn the fact
that, in many verbs of the class, the vowels were unlike in the singular and
plural of the preterit: thus, from singan, the AnglcSaxon has Ah sang, but
wo aingon.




86                 OBLITERATION OF               rLECT
The common confusion of learn and teach, as in "I learnt
him to swim," is another case of a somewhat similar charac.
ter, being also favoured by a recognized usage of our lan.
guage, which permits us in numerous instances to employ a
verb in both a simple and a causative sense. We say correctly
"the ship ran aground" and "they ran it aground "; why
not as well "the boy learned his lesson" and "they learned
him his lesson "?
A reprehensible popular inaccuracy-commencing in this
country, I believe, at the South or among the Irish, but
lately making very alarming progress northward, and through
almost all classes of the community-is threatening to wipe
out in the first persons of our futures the distinction between
the two auxiliaries shall and will, casting away the former,
and putting the latter in its place. The Southerner says:
" It is certain that we will fail," "I would try in vain to
thank you." To say I shall in circumstances where we
should say he will, to put we should where good usage would
require they would, seems to these people, who have never
investigated either the history or the philosophy of the
difference of the phraseology in the two persons, an inconsistency which may and should be avoided. The matter,
however, is one which implies a violation not only of good
English usage, but also of sound etymological morality: shall
originally and properly contains the idea of duty, and will
that of resolve; and to disregard obligation in the laying out
of future action, making arbitrary resolve the sole guide, is a
lesson which the community ought not to learn from any
section or class, in language any more than in political and
social conduct.
Once more, our verb has long been undergoing a process of
impoverishment by the obliteration of its subjunctive mood.
This had begun even in the Anglo-Saxon, by the partial loss
of the distinctive signs of subjunctive meaning, and the
assimilation of the subjunctive and indicative forms. The
wearing-off of inflections since that period has nearly finished
the work, by wiping out, in almost every verb in the language,
all formal distinction between the two moods, except in the
second and third persons singular present and the second




In.]             VALUABLE DISTINCTIONS.               81
singular preterit: there, it was still possible to say if thou
love, if he love, if thou loved, instead of thou lovest, he loves,
thou lovedst. But the second persons have become of so rare
use with us that they could render little aid in keeping alive
in the minds of speakers the apprehension of the subjunctive:
it virtually rested solely upon the single form if he love. No
wonder, then, that the distinction, so weakly sustained, became an evanescent one; in if they love, if we loved, and so
on, forms apparently indicative answered sufficiently well the
purpose of conditional expression; why not also in the third
person singular? Under the influence of such considerations, it has become equally allowable to write if he loves and
if he love, even in careful and elegant styles of composition,
while the latter is but very rarely heard in colloquial discourse.
Only in the verb to be, whose subjunctive forms were more
plainly, and in more persons, distinguished from the indicative, have they maintained themselves more firmly in
use: to say if I was, if he was, for if I were, if he were, is
even now decidedly careless and inelegant.
What has been given must suffice as illustration of the
abbreviation of forms, the mutilation and wearing out of
formative elements.  But this, though a fundamentally and
conspicuously important part of the phonetic history of a
language, is only a part: the same tendency, to economize
the time and labour expended in speaking, to make the
utterance of words more easy and convenient, shows itself in
a great variety of other ways. None of the articulate elements of which our vocables are composed are exempt from
alteration under the operation of this tendency; while a
word continues to maintain its general structure and grammatical form, it is liable to change by the conversion of some
of its sounds into others, by omission, even by addition or insertion. The subject of phonetic change in language is too
vast, and runs out into a too infinite detail, to be treated here
with any fulness: we can only attempt to direct our attention to its most important features and guiding principles.
Each one of the sounds composing our spoken alphabet is
produced by an effort in which the lungs, the throat, and the
organs of the mouth bear a part. The lungs futrish tah




88             PROCESSES OF PRODUCTION           [LECT,
rough material, an expulsion of air, in greater or less force;
the vocal cords in the larynx, by their approximation and
vibration, give to this material resonance and tone; while it
receives its final form, its articulate character, by the modify.
ing action of the tongue, palate, and'lips. Each articulation
thus represents a certain position of the shapins organs of
the mouth, through which a certain kind and amount of
material is emitted. A word is composed of a series of such
articulations, and implies a succession of changes of position
in the mouth-organs, often accompanied by changes in the
action of the larynx upon the passing column of air. Thus,
for example, in the word friendly.  At first, the tips of
the upper teeth are pressed upon the edge of the lower lip,
and simple breath, not intonated in the larynx, is forced out
between the two organs: the rustling thus produced is thefsound. The teeth and lips are now released from service,
and the tip of the tongue is brought near to the roof of the
mouth at a point a little way behind the gums; at the same
instant, the vocal cords are raised and strained, so that the
escaping air sets them in vibration and becomes sonant; tone,
instead of mere breath, is expelled; and the sound of r is
heard. Next the tongue is moved again; its point is depressed in the mouth, and its middle raised toward the palate,
yet not so near but that the sonant breath comes forth freely,
giving an opener, a more sonorous and continuable tone than
either of the preceding positions yielded: this we call a
vowel, short e. Once more the tip of the tongue approaches
the upper part of the mouth behind the teeth, and this time
forms a close contact there, cutting off all exit of the breath
through the oral passage; but the passage of the nose is
opened for its escape, and we hear the nasal n. To produce
the next sound, d, the only change needed is the closure of the
nasal passage; the mouth and nose being both shut, no emission of breath is possible; yet the tone does not cease;
breath enough to support for an instant the sonant vibration
of the vocal cords is forced up into the closed- cavity of
the mouth, behind the tongue: were the vibration and tone
intermitted during the instant of closure, the sound uttered
would be a t, instead of a d. Before the oral cavity is so full




IlI.]            OF ARTICULATE SOUNDS.                89
that the sonant utterance can be no longer sustained, the
contact of the tongue with the roof of the mouth is broken
at its sides, but kept up at its tip, in which position the continuance of intonated emission generates an 1. Finally, the
tongue is released at the tip and elevated in the middle, to a
posture nearly the same with that in which the former vowel
was spoken, only a little closer, and we have another vowel,
a short i. Here, unless some other word immediately follows,
the process is ended, and inarticulate breathing is commenced
again.  Thus, during tho pronunciation of so brief and
simple a word, the mouth-organs have been compelled to as.
sume in succession seven different positions: but all their
movements have been made with such rapidity and precision,
one position has followed another so closely and accurately,
that no intermediate sounds, no slides from one to another,
have been apprehended by the ear; it has heard only the
seven articulations.  The action of the throat has varied
once; passing without modification the breath expended in
uttering thef, it has intonated, in one unbroken stream, all
that followed.  The general effort of utterance, too, the
degree of exertion put forth by the lungs, has not been the
same throughout: the former part of the word has been accented-that is to say, spoken with a fuller and stronger tone
-with which effect, when not contravened by the emphasis,
or tone of the sentence, a slight rise of musical pitch is wont
to ally itself. And yet once more, we have to note that our
word, whether we regard it as seven-fold or as one-fold
in respect to the action of the articulating organs, presents
itself to our apprehension as a two-fold entity: it is dissyllabic.
This property, the foundation of which is in the ear of
the hearer rather than in the mouth of the speaker, depends
upon the antithesis of the opener and closer sounds compos.
ing the word: the comparatively open and resonant vowels
strike the ear as the prominent and principal constituents of
the series, while the closer consonants appear as their adjuncts,
separating at the same time that they connect them.
This example brings to light the principal elements which
Anter into the structure of spoken signs for ideas, and which
have to be taken into account in all in quiries iato the phonetit




90      DIFFICULT AND IMPOSSIBLE COMBINATIONS.  [LECT,
history of language. Each constituent of the spoken alphabet
requires, in order to its production, a certain kind and
amount of effort on the part of the various organs concerned
in articulate utterance.  Some of them  call for grea er
change from the quiescent condition of the organs, and so are
in themselves harder to utter, than others. And againwhat is of far higher importance in phonology-some are
much harder to utter than others in connection with one
another; the changes of position and mode of action of the
articulating organs which they imply are more difficult of
production and combination. Thus, it is perfectly practica.
ble to arrange the sounds composing the word friendly in
such ways as to give very harsh combinations, which, although
we may make shift to utter them by a great effort, we should
ordinarily and properly call unpronounceable: for example,
rjfdrely, Irefdny, yrfdnle. And our word itself, easy as it
seems to us, would be deemed harsh and unpronounceable by
many a race and nation of men. It is all a question of
degree, of the amount of labour to which we are willing to
subject our articulating organs in speaking. Hosts of series
of sounds may be made up which, though not unutterable by
dint of devoted and vehement exertion, never appear in
actual speech, because they are practically too hard; their
cost is greater than their value; the needs of speech can be
supplied without resorting to them. And half the languages
in the world have sounds and combinations of sounds which
other tongues eschew as being harder than they choose to utter.
No word that a community has once formed and uttered is in.
capable of being kept unchanged in their use; vet use breeds
change in all the constituents of every language: each sound
in a word exercises an assimilating influence over the others
in its neighbourhood, tending to bring them into some other
form which is more easily uttered in connection with itself.
T'he seat of " euphony," as we somewhat mistakenly term it,
is in the mouth, not in the ear; words are changed in
phonetic structure, not according to the impression they
make upon the organs of hearing, but according to the action
which they call for in the organs of speaking; physiological,
not acoustic relations determine how sounds shall pass into
one another in the process'f linguistic growth.




III.]  PHYSICAL SYSTEM OF ENGLISH SPOKEN SOUNDS.   91
A spoken alphabet, then, in order to be understood, must
be arranged upon a physiological plan. It is no chaos, but
an orderly system of articulations, with ties of relationship
running through it in every direction. It has its natural
limits, divisions, and lines of arrangement. It is composed
of series of sounds, produced each in its own part of the
mouth, by different degrees of approximation of the same
organs. According to these different degrees of approximation, mainly, it is separated into classes: the opener sounds
we call vowels; the closer, consonants; and, upon the limit
between the two are sounds-like 1, r, n in English-which
are capable of use as either consonants or vowels. The con.
sonants, again, are subdivided into classes of lesser extent,
also determined by their correspondence in respect to measure
of openness, resonance, and continuability: such are the
semivowels, the nasals, the fricatives (which may be further
subdivided into sibilants and spirants), and the mutes. And,
after a certain grade of closeness is reached, each position of
the mouth-organs gives rise to two distinct sounds, sonant
and surd, according as intonated or unintonated breath is
expelled through it.
The English spoken alphabet, arranged according to this
method, presents the following scheme:*
a      a
ae  o                  Vowels.
Surd      h                                       Aspiration.
Sonant       Z                                  5 Sibilants.
Surd                         S                  )
Sonant                       8V  )
Surd                         dSprant.
Sonant       g               d              b     utes.
Surd         k                t             p
Palatal        Lingual          Labial
Series.         Series.         Series.
~  For a fuller explanation and establishment of this method of arranger




92                   ORDINARY CONVERSIONS                    [LEOT.
The scale of these lectures does not require us to enter
into a more detailed examination of the organs of speech and
their product, articulate sounds, or a more exact definition of
the physical relations of articulate sounds, than has thus been
given. The principal and most frequent phonetic transitions
are sufficiently explained by our alphabetic scheme. Let us
notice a few of them.
The conversion of a surd letter into its corresponding sonant,
or of sonant into surd,is abundantly illustrated in the history of
every language. Our own plural sign, s, is pronounced as s only
when it follows another surd consonant, as in plants, cakes;
after a sonant consonant or a vowel, it becomes z, as in eyes,
pins, pegs. A like change is common between two vowels, as
in busy; the vowel intonation being continued through the
intervening consonant, instead of intermitted during its utterance. So, on the other hand, we turn a d into a t after another surd consonant, where a sonant would be only with
difficulty pronounced, as in looked (lookt); and the  German
eliminates the intonation from all his final mutes, speaking
kind, kalb, as if they were written kint, kalp. Sounds of the
same series, but of different classes, easily pass into one another: thus, the spirants (f, th, and so on) are almost universally derived from the full mutes, by a substitution of a
close approximation (usually accompanied, it is true, by a
slight shifting of position) for the full mute contact; and they
ment of the alphabet, see the author's papers on the Standard Alphabet of Professor Lepsius, in the'Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. vii., pp.
299-332, and vol. viii., pp. 335-373.  The signs used in the scheme
are those of the Lepsian system. Thus, a represents the sound infar; a, in
fdit; e, in thgen and they; i, in pin and pique; a, in whdt and  ll; o, in
note; uc, in full and rule; e, in bin and burn; -, the z of azure; ~, the sh
of shun; a, the th of that; 0, the th of thin. The distinction of long and
short vowels, although it is in every case founded on a difference of quality
as well as quantity, is here, for convenience's sake, omitted; as are also the
diphthongs ai, au, and ai, as in pint, pound, poaint (of which the two first are
rather vocal slides than diphthongs). The compound consonants ch and j, in
church, judge, have also strictly a right to separate representation; since,
though their final element respectively is X and A, their initial element is not
precisely our usual t and d, but one of another quality, more palatal. Were
ill these differences of utterance noted by separate characters, our written
alphabet would contain forty-two signs, instead of the thirty given above.




rII.]         OF SOUNDS INTO ONE ANOTHER.            93
come especially from such mutes as were originally aspiratedthat is to say, had an audible bit of an h pronounced after
them, before the following sound: the way in which they are
often written, as ph, th, ch (German), is a result and evidence
of this their origin. A v, too, has in many languages taken
the place of an earlier semivowel w. Of the transition of
the spirant th into the sibilant s anotable example is offered
in our substitution-now become universal except in antiquated and solemn styles-of he loves for he loveth: s as
ending of the third person singular of verbs is rare in
Chaucer, and quite unknown a little earlier. An s between
vowels, instead of being turned into its own corresponding
sonant, z, becomes sometimes the next opener sonant of the
same series, namely r: this change prevails very extensively
in many tongues, as the Sanskrit, Latin, Germanic; a familiar
example of its effect is seen in our were, plural and subjunctive of was, which has retained the original sibilant. A less
frequent and regular change puts in place of a letter of one
series one belonging to the same class but a different series.
Thus, when the English gave up in pronunciation its palatal
spirant-still written in so many of our words with ghwhile it usually simply silenced it, prolonging or strengthening, by way of compensation, the preceding vowel, as in light,
bough, Hugh, it sometimes substituted the labial spirantf, as
in cough, trough; and, in the latter word, a common popular
error, doubtless going back to the time of first abandonment
of the proper gh sound, substitutes the lingual spirant, th,
pronouncing troth.  So the Russians put f for th, turning
Theodore into Fedor. Exchanges of the mutes of different
organs with one another are not very seldom met with,
though not so easy to illustrate with English instances: the
pent of pentagon and the quinq of quinguennial are Greek and
Latin versions of the same original word, which in our own
tongue, moreover, has become five.  We often hear persons
who have a constitutional or habitual inaptness to pronounce
an r, and who turn it into a w, or an 1: r and 1, indeed,
throughout the history of language, are the most interchange.
able of sounds. Combination of consonants leads with espe.
cial frequency to the assimilation of the one to the other:




94               ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY.              rLEOT.
our ditto is the Latin dictum,' said'; we say dis-join, but dif.
Iusse; in-different, but im-possible; ad-dict, but an-nul, ap.
pend, as-sign, ac-cede, af-f, ag-gress, al-lude, am-munition.
If the consonants are thus variously liable to pass into one
another, a yet higher degree of mobility belongs to the vowels.
It is needless to go into particulars upon this point: the condition of our own vowel-system is a sufficient illustration of
it. The letters a, e, i, o, ut were originally devised and intended to represent the vowel-sounds in far, prey, pigue, pole,
and rule, respectively, and they still have those values, constlantly or prevailingly, in most of the other languages which
employ them. But, during the written period of our own
tongue, the pronunciation of its vowels has undergone-partly
under the influence of circumstances which are still clearly
to be pointed out-very sweeping and extensive changes,
while our words have continued to be spelt nearly as
formerly; and the consequence has been a grand dislocation
of our orthographical system, a divorcement of our written
from our spoken alphabet. Our written vowels have from
three to nine values each, and they are supplemented in use
by a host of digraphs, of equally variable pronunciation; our
spoken vowels have each from two to twelve written representatives.  All the internal relations of our sounds are
turned awry; what we call "long" and " short" a, or i, or tu,
or e, or o, are really no more related to one another as corresponding long and short, than dog and cat, sun and moon,
are related to one another as corresponding male and female.
With our consonants, also, the case is but little better than
with our vowels: our words, as we write them, are full of
silent and ambiguous signs of every class, unremoved ruins
of an overthrown phonetic structure. And our sense of the
fitness of things has become so debauched by our training in
the midst of these vicious surroundings, that it seems to us
natural and proper that the same sound shoaled be written in
many different ways, the same sign have many different sounds;
the great majority of us seriously believe and soberly main.
tain that a historical is preferable to a phonetic spellingthat is to say, that it is better to write our words as we
imagine that somebody else pronounced them a long time




m.J  PHONETIC CHANGE IN PART UNEXPLAINABLE.         95
since, than as we pronounce them ourselves; and an ortho.
epical corruption or anomaly, like kyind for kind, ddnce for
ddnce, neither for neither, is less frowned on by public
opinion, and has a better chance for adoption into general
use, than any, the most obvious, improvement of orthography.
The illustrations of phonetic change which we have been
considering concern, as was claimed for them at the outset,
only the most frequent and easily explainable phenomena of
their kind, those which are found to prevail more or less in
almost every known language.  But every language has its
own peculiar history of phonetic development, its special laws
of mutation, its caprices and idiosyncrasies, which no amount
of learning and acuteness could enable the phonologist to
foretell, and of which the full explanation often baffles his
art. His work is historical, not prescriptive. He has to
trace out the changes which have actually taken place in the
spoken structure of language, and to discover, so far as he is
able, their ground, in the physical character and relations of
the sounds concerned, in the positions and motions of the
articulating organs by which those sounds are produced. He
is thus enabled to point out, in the great majority of cases,
how it is that a certain sound, in this or that situation, should
be easily and naturally dropped, or converted into such and
such another sound. But with this, for the most part, he is
obliged to content himself; his power to explain the motive
of the change, why it is made in this word and not in that,
why by this community and not by that other, is very limited.
He cannot tell why sounds are found in the alphabet of one
tongue which are unutterable by the speakers of another;
why combinations which come without difficulty from the
organs of one people are utterly eschewed by its neighbour
and next of kin; why, for example, the Sanskrit will tolerate
io two consonants at the end of a word, the Greek no con.
sonant but n, s, or r, the Chinese none but a nasal, the Italian
none at all: why the Polynesian will form no syllable which
does not end with a vowel, or which begins with more than one
consonant, while the English will bear as many as six or seven
consonants about asingle vowel (as in splints, strands, twelft]hs):
why the accent in a Latin word has its place always determined by the quantity of the syllable before the last, and resra




96     PHONETIC CHANGE IN PART UNEXPLAINABLE. [LECT,
either upon that syllable or the one that precedes it, while in
Greek it may be given to either of the last three syllables, and
is only partially regulated by quantity; why, again, the Irish
and Bohemian lay the stress of voice invariably upon the first
syllable of a word, and their near relations, the Welsh and
Polish, as invariably upon the penult; others still, like the
Russian and Sanskrit, submitting it to no restriction of place
whatever.  These, and the thousand other not less striking
differences of phonetic structure and custom which might
readily be pointed out, are national traits, results of differences
of physical organization so subtile (if they exist at all), of influences of circumstance so recondite, of choice and habit so
arbitrary and capricious, that they will never cease to elude
the search of the investigator. But he will not, in his perplexity, think of ascribing even the most obscure and startling
changes of sound to any other agency than that which brings
about those contractions and conversions which are most
obviously a relief to the organs of articulation: it is still the
speakers of language, and they alone, who work over and
elaborate the words they utter, suiting them to their convenience and their caprice. The final reason to which we
are brought in. every case, when historical and physical study
have done their utmost, is but this: it hath pleased the community which used this word to make such an alteration in its
form; and such and such considerations and analogies show
the change to be one neither isolated nor mysterious.
Except in single and exceptional cases, there is no such difference of structure in human mouths and throats that any
human being, of whatever race, may not perfectly master the
prommciation of any human language, belonging to whatever
other race —provided only his teaching begin early enough,
before his organs have acquired by habit special capacities
and incapacities. The collective disposition and ability of a
community, working itself out under the guidance of circumstances, determines the phonetic form which the common
tongue of the community shall wear. And as, in the first
essays of any child at speaking, we may note not only natural
erl.rors and ready substitutions of one sound for another, comman to nearly all children, but also one and another peculiar
conversion, which seems the effect of mere whim, explainabis




1I. 1                   GRIMMIS LAW.                      97
by nothing but individual caprice, so n the traditional trans.
mission of language-which is but the same process of teach.
ing children to speak, carried out upon a larger scale-we
must look for similar cases of arbitrary phonetic transitions.
So important a part of the history of a language are its
special methods of phonetic change, that, in investigating the
relations of any dialect with its kindred dialects, the first step
is to determine to what sounds in the latter its own sounds
regularly  correspond.  Thus, on  comparing English  and
German, we find that a d in the former usually agrees, not
with a d, but with a t, in the latter; as is shown by dance and
tanz, day and tag, deep and tie, drink and trink, and so on.
In like manner. the German counterpart of an English t is s
or z: comparefoot and fuss, tin and zinn, to and zu, two and
zwei, and the like; and a German d answers to our th, as in
die for the, dein for thine, bad for bath.  What is yet more
extraordinary is the fact that, if we compare English with the
older languages of our family-as with Latin, Greek, and
Sanskrit-we discover the precise converse of this relation:
as German t is English d, so English t is Latin d (compare
two and duo); as German d is English th, so English d is
Greek th (compare door and thura, daughter and thlgater);
as German s or z is English t, so English th (the lisped letter
instead of the hissed, the spirant for the sibilant) is Latin,
Greek, and Sanskrit t (compare three and tres, treis, tri;
that and-tud,.to, tad).  In short, taking the series of three
dental mutes, surd, aspirate, and sonant, t, th, and d, we find
that the Germanic languages in general, including the English, have pushed each of them forward one step, while the
High-German dialects, chiefly represented by the literary
German, have pushed each of them forward two'teps.
Thus, in tabular form:
1. t     S. tad (3),
2. th    E. that (1),   Gr. thura,
3. d     G. das (2).    E. door,    L. dent-em (1),
1. t                    G. ti*.    E. tooth  (2),
2. th                              G. zand*  (3).
* I give here the Old HIigh-German forms, as illustrating the change mao
distinctly md fully than the corresponding modern German words.
I




98                    GRIMM'S LAW.               LLECT,
And a similar rule of permutation holds good also among the
consonants of the two other series, the palatal and labial: k,
kh, g; p, ph, b-the whole, with certain variations and ex.
ceptions, of which we do not need -here to take account. This
intricate method of correspondence without identity is generally styled, after its discoverer, " Grimm's Law of Permutation of Consonants; "* it is a fact of prime consequence in
the history of the group of languages to which ours belongs,
and, at the same time, one of the most remarkable and difficult phenomena of its class which the linguistic student finds
anywhere offered him for explanation. Nor has any satisfactory explanation of it been yet devised; while, nevertheless,
we have no reason to believe it of a nature essentially different from other mutations of sound, of equally arbitrary
appearance, though of less complication and less range,
which the history of language everywhere exhibits. The
Armenian, for example, has converted its ancient surd mutes
prevailingly into sonants, and its sonants into surds; the
cockney drops his initial h's, and aspirates his initial
vowels: neither of these, any more than the permutation of
consonants in the Germanic languages, is referable to a tendency toward ease of utterance, in any of its ordinary modes
of action; yet no sound linguist would think of doubting that
all the three phenomena are alike historical in their nature,
results of the working out of tendencies which existed and
operated in the minds of those who spoke the several lan.
guages in which they have made their appearance.
We need give but a moment's attention to another process of linguistic change, whereby not letters, parts of words,
formative elements, alone are lost, but whole words, signs of
ideas, disappear from among the stores of expression of a
language. This, too, is always and everywhere going on.
Evidence of it is to be seen in the obsolete and obsolescent
material found recorded on almost every page of our diction.
aries, and still more abundantly in the monuments of our
literature, of periods to which our dictionaries do not pre
tend to go back, among the works of the earliest English
writers; and, above all, in the Anglo-Saxon literature. As
* In German, simply th' Lautverschiebung




llI.]          LOSS OF WORDS FROM USE.               99
new thought and knowledge calls for new words and phrases,
in order to its expression, so, when old thought and know.
ledge becomes antiquated, is superseded, and loses its cur.
rency, the words and phrases which expressed it, unless con.
verted to other purposes, must also go out of use.  It is
sufficient that any constituent of language come to appear
to those who have been accustomed to use it unnecessary
and superfluous, and they cease to employ and transmit it;
and, as tradition and use are the only means by which the
life of language is kept up, it drops out of existence and
disappears for ever-unless, indeed, it be maintained in artificial life by the preservation of records of the dialect in
which it figured, or its mummy, with due account of its history and departed worth, be deposited, labelled "obsolete,"
in a dictionary.  In part, things themselves pass out of
notice and remembrance, and their names along with them;
in part, new expressions arise, win their way to popular
favour, and crowd out their predecessors; or, of two or more
nearly synonymous words, one acquires a special and exclu.
sive currency, and assumes the office of them all; in part,
too, even valuable items of expression fall into desuetude,
from no assignable cause save the carelessness or caprice of
the language-users, and pass away, leaving a felt void behind
them.  Of course, those departments of a vocabulary which
are liable to most extensive and rapid change by expansion
are also most exposed to loss of their former substance,
since the growth of human knowledge consists not merely in
addition, but also in the supersession and replacement of old
ideas by new: the technical phraseology of the arts, sciences,
and handicrafts shows most obsolete words, as it shows most
new words; yet, in the never-ending adjustment of human
speech to human circumstances and needs, every part is in
its own degree affected by this kind of change, as well as by
the others.  Rarely has any cultivated tongue, during a like
period of its history, given up more of its ancient material
than did the English during the few centuries which succeeded the Norman invasion; a large portion of the AngloSaxon vocabulary was abandoned; but this was only the
natural effect of the intrusion of so many Norman-French
7*




100             CHANGES OF SIGNIFICANT           [L ECT.
words, an enrichment beyond all due messure, rendering
necessary the relinquishment of some part of resources which
exceeded the wants of the community. If, upon the whole,
we have gained by the exchange, it has not been without
some regrettable losses, of the significant as well as of the
formative elements of expression.
The processes which we have thus examined and illustrated
-on the one hand, the production of new words and forms
by the combination of old materials; on the other hand, the
wearing down, wearing out, and abandonment of the words
and forms thus produced, their fusion and mutilation, their
destruction and oblivion-are the means by which are kept
up the life and growth of language, so far as concerns its
external shape and substance, its sensible body: by their
joint and mutual action, greatly varying in rate and kind
among different peoples, at different times, and under different circumstances, spoken tongues have been from the beginning of their history, and are still, everywhere becoming
other than they were. Yet they together constitute but one
department of linguistic change; another, affecting the in.
ternal content of language, the meaning of its words, equally
demands notice from us. To this we have not yet distinctly
directed our attention, although our illustrations have necessarily set forth, to a certain extent, its action and effects,
along with those of the external modifications which we have
been especially considering. It is a part of linguistic hi2tory which, to say the least, possesses not less interest and
importance than the other.  To trace out the changes of
signification which a word has undergone is quite as essential a part of the etymologist's work as to follow back its
changes of phonetic form; and the former are yet more rich
in striking and unexpected developments, more full of instruction, than the latter: upon them depend in no small
measure the historical results which the student of language
aims at establishing. It may even be claimed with a certain
justice that change and development of meaning constitute
the real interior life of language, to which the other pros
cesses only furnish an outward support. In their details,
indeed, the outer and inner growth are to a great extent in...




fit I             CONTENT OF WORDS.                101
dependent of one another: a word may suffer modification
of form in any degree, even to the loss or mutation of every
phonetic element it once contained, with no appreciable
alteration of meaning (as in our I for Anglo-Saxon ic, eye
for eaqe); and, again, it may be used to convey a totally
different meaning from that which it formerly bore, while
still maintaining its old form. Yet, upon the whole, the two
must correspond, and answer one another's uses.  That
would be but an imperfect and awkward language, all whose
expansion of significant content was made without aid from
the processes which generate new words and forms; and the
highest value of external change lies in its facilitation of internal, in its office of providing signs for new ideas, of expanding a vocabulary and grammatical system into a more
complete adaptedness to their required uses. But change
of meaning is a more fundamental and essential part of linguistic growth than change of form. If, while words grew
together, became fused, integrated, abbreviated, their signification were incapable of variation, no phonetic plasticity
could make of language aught but a stiff dead structure, incapable of continuously supplying the wants of a learning
and reasoning people. If for every distinct conception language were compelled to provide a distinct term, if every
new idea or modification of an idea called imperatively for a
new word or a modification of an old one, the task of language-making would be indefinitely increased in difficulty.
The case, however, is far otherwise. A wonderful facility of
putting old material to new uses stands us in stead in dealing with the intent as well as the form of our words. The
ideal content of speech is even more yielding than is its external audible substance to the touch of the moulding and
shaping mind. In any sentence that may be chosen, as we
shall find that not one of the words is uttered in the same
manner as when it was first generated, so we shall also find
that not one has the same meaning which belonged to it at
the beginning. The phonetists claim, with truth, that any
given articulated sound may, in the history of speech, pass
over into any other; the same may with equal truth be
claimed of the ideas signified by words: there can hardly be




102     WHY WORDS MAY CHANGE THEIR MEANING.  [LECT.
two so disconnected and unlike that they may not derive
themselves historically, through a succession of intermediate
steps, from one another or from the same original. The
varieties of significant change are as infinite as those of phonetic change; and, as in dealing with the latter, so here
again, we must limit ourselves to pointing out and exemplifying the leading principles and more prominent general
methods.
The fundamental fact which makes words to be of change.
able meaning is the same to which we have already had to
refer as making them of changeable form: namely, that there
is no internal and necessary connection between a word and
the idea designated by it, that no tie save a mental association binds the two together.  Conventional usage, the mutual understanding of speakers and hearers, allots to each
vocable its significance, and the same authority which maikes
is able to change, and to change as it will, in whatever way,
and to whatever extent. The only limit to the power of
change is that imposed by the necessity of mutual intelligibility; no word may ever by any one act be so altered as to
lose its identity as a sign, becoming unrecognizable by those
who have been accustomed to employ it.  Eleenosune- is reducible to a'ms, but only through a series of intermediate
stages, of which the German almosen, the Anglo-Saxon anles,
and our spelling alms are representatives; the change of significant content which it has at the same time undergone,
from'feeling of pity or compassion' to one of the practical
results of such a feeling, is comparatively inconsiderable, not
more than we are in the constant habit of making at a single
step. Our corresponding word of Latin derivation, charity,
while little altered in form from its original, caritas,'dearness,' has suffered a much more distant transfer of signification. Priest, again, from the Greek presbiiteros,' an older person,' has wandered from its primitive to about equal distance
in form and in meaning; the one departure taking place
under physical inducements, brought about by an impulse
to economize physical effort on the part of those who had to
utter the word; the other accompanying a historical change
in the character and functions of an official originally chosen




fit.]         PROCESSES OF NAMES-GIVING.            108
simp-y as a person of superior age and experience to oversee
the concerns of a Christian community. These are but ordinary examples of the indefinite mutability of words, such as
might be culled out of every sentence which we speak. Let
us look at one or two further instances, which go back to a
remoter period in the history of speech, and illustrate more
fully the normal processes of word-making.
The word moon, with which are akin the names for the
same object in many of the languages connected with our
own, comes from a root (mnd) signifying'to measure', and,
by its etymology, means'the measurer'.  It is plainly the
fact-and one of some interest, as indicating the ways of
thinking of our remote ancestors-that the moon was looked
upon as in a peculiar sense the measurer of time: and, indeed, we know that primitive nations generally have begun
reckoning time by moons or months before arriving at a
distinct apprehension of the year, as an equally natural and
more important period.  By an exception, the Latin name
luna (abbreviated from luc-na) means' the shining one.' In
both these cases alike, we have an arbitrary restriction and
special application to a single object of a term properly bearing a general sense; and also, an arbitrary selection of a
single quality in a thing of complex nature to be made a
ground of designation for the whole thing. In the world of
created objects there are a great many "measurers", and a
great many "shining ones"; there are also a great many
other qualities belonging to the earth's satellite, which have
just as good a right as these two to be noticed in her name:
yet the appellation perfectly answers its purpose; no one,
for thousands of years, has inquired, save as a matter of
learned curiosity, what, after all, the word moon properly
signifies: for us it designates our moon, and we may observe
and study that luminary to the end of time without feeling
that our increased knowledge furnishes any reason for our
changing its name. The words for'sun' have nearly the
same history, generally designating it as'the brilliant or
shining one', or as'the enlivener, quickener, generator'.
There are hardly two other objects within the ordinary
range of human observation more essentially unique than




x04           PROCESSES OF NAMES-GIVING.          [LEM?.
the sun and the moon, and their titles were, as nearly as is
possible in language, proper names. But such they could
not continue to be.  No constituent of language is the appellation of an individual existence or act; each designates
a class; and, even when circumstances seem to limit the
class to one member, we are ever on the watch to extend its
bounds. The same tendency which, as already pointed out,
leads the child, when it has learned the words papa and sky, to
take the things designated by those words as types of classes,
and so-rightly enough in principle, though wrongly as regards the customary use of language-to call other men
papa, and to call the ceiling sky, is always active in us.
Copernicus having taught us that the sun is the great centre
of our system, that the earth is not the point about which
and for which the rest of the universe was created, the
thought is at once suggested to us that the fixed stars also
may be centres of systems like our own, and we call them
suns. And no sooner does Galileo discover for us the lesser
orbs which circle about Jupiter and others of our sisterplanets, than, without a scruple, or a suspicion that we are
doing anything unusual or illegitimate, we style them moons.
Each word, too, has its series of figurative and secondary
meanings.  " So many suns", " so many moons", signify the
time marked by so many revolutions of the two luminaries
respectively; in some languages the word moon itself (as in
the Greek mwn), in others, a derivative from it (as the Latin
mensis and our month), comes to be the usual name of the
period determined by the wax and wane of our satelliteand is then transferred to designate those fixed and arbitrary
subdivisions of the solar year to which the natural system of
lunar months has so generally been compelled to give place.
By a figure of another kind, we sometimes call by the name
sun one who is conspicuous for brilliancy and influence:
"made glorious summer by this sun of York."  By yet an.
other, but which has now long lost its character as a figure,
and become plain and homely speech, we put sun for sunlight,
saying, " to walk out of the sun", "to bask in the sun", and
so on. In more learned and technical phrase, the Latin
name of the moon, lune, or its dimiriutive, lunette, is made




Un.]          PROCESSES OF NAMES-GIVING.            105
the dosignation of various objects having a shape roughly resembling some one of the moon's varying phases. A popular
superstition connects with these last some of the phenomena
of insanity, and so the same word lune has to signify also'a
crazy fit', while a host of derivatives-as lunatic, lunacy; as
moon-struck, mooning, mooner —attest in our common speech
the influence of the same delusion.
This elasticity of verbal significance, this indefinite contractibility and extensibility of the meaning of words, is
capable of the most varied illustration.,Among all the
various workmen who take rough materials and make them
supple or smooth, the arbitrary choice of our Germanic
ancestors, ages ago, designated the worker in metal as the
one who should be styled the smith. At a much later period,
when the convenience of a more developed social condition
created a demand for surnames, certain individuals of this
respectable profession took from it the cognomen of Smith.
Then, just as the name smith had been divorced from its connection with the more general idea of smooth, and restricted
to a certain class of smoothers, so now, the name Smith was
cut loose from the profession, and limited to these particular
individuals and their belongings. Yet, as such, it became
the nucleus of a new class-extension, in which the tie of consanguinity was substituted for that of common occupation;
and, although all smiths are not Smiths, the Smniths are
now even me re numerous than the smiths.  Every proper
name, not less than every common noun, goes back thus to an
individual appellation, having a historical ground, and is
determined in its farther application by historical circumstances. Thus, to take a more dignified example, the first
Coesar wan so stlaed from some fact in his life-the authorities are a.t issue from what particular one: whether from his
unnatural mode of birth (a cEso matris utero), or from his
coming into the world with long hair (cesaries), or from his
slaying a Mauritanian  elephant (cesar in 3Mauritanian
speech). His descendants then inherited from him the same
name, without having to show the same reason for it; and
the preeminent greatness and power of one among them
made it a part of the permanent title of him who ruled the




106       CHANGES OF SIGNIBICANC3 OF WORDS.    ELEO.T
Roman state, of whatever race he might be; while from here
it not only passed to the emperor (kaiser) of Germany,
whose throne pretends to be the modern representative of
that of Rome, but also to the autocrat (czar) of distant and
barbarous Russia-thus becoming the equivalent of'emperor'
in two of the most important languages of modern Europe.
These examples are of themselves sufficient to place before
our eyes the most important features in the history of significant change of words, the principal processes by whicheven apart from combination or phonetic change, but yet
more effectively in connection with these — the existing
vocabulary of a language is adaptable to the growing knowledge and varying needs of those who use it.  We see that,
in finding a name by which to designate a new conception,
we may either pitch upon some one of the latter's attributes,
inherent or accidental, and denominate it from that, limiting
and specializing for its use an attributive term of a more
general meaning; or, on the other hand, we may connect it
by a tie of correspondence or analogy with some other conception already named, and extend so as to include it the
sphere of application of the other's designation; while, in
either case, we may improve or modify to any extent our apprehension of the object conceived of, both stripping it of
qualities with which we had once invested it and attributing
to it others, and may thus pave the way to the establishment
of new relations between it and other objects, which shall become fruitful of further changes in our nomenclature. These
two, in fact-the restriction and specialization of general
terms, and the extension and generalization of special terms
-are the two grand divisions under which may be arranged
all the infinite varieties of the'process of names-giving.
Some of these varieties and their effects, however, it will be
desirable for us to examine and illustrate more fully, before
going on to consider farther the general character of the
process. We will not attempt in our illustrations a strictly
systematic method, but will take something of the same freedom which linguistic usage assumes in dealing with the
material of speech.
HIt is obvious how vastly the resources of a language for




al.]       VARIETY OF MEANINGS OF A WORD.            107
the expression of thought are increased by attribution to the
same word of different meanings.  Not only does a term exchange one well-defined meaning for another, but it acquires
new uses while yet retaining those it formerly possessed.
For example, board appears to be originally connected with
broad, and to designate etymologically that form of timber
which is especially characterized by breadth rather than
thickness. Here we have the customary and normal genesis of the name of a specific thing, by restriction of a general
term expressing one of its attributes. Then follow yet other
individualizations and transfers. The word is applied to designate a table: on the one hand, the table upon which our
food is spread, and we sit around the festive board; whence,
then, a metaphor makes it mean provision or entertainment;
and we seek bed and board, or work for our board: on the
other hand, the table about which a body of men sit for the
transaction of business, and so, by another metaphor, those
who sit about it, a constituted body of trustees or commissioners, the Board of Trade, or of Commerce, or of Admiralty.
Again, it is specifically used to denote the plank covering of
a vessel, and generates in this sense a new group of phrases,
like aboard and overboard. The paper-maker, too, has his technical uses for the term; to him it signifies the stiffest and
thickest, the most board-like, of his fabrics. Post (Latin
positum, from pono,'I place') means by derivation nothing
more than'put, placed, stationed'; all its varied and diverse
senses-so diverse that we can not only say " as immovable as
a post ", but also " to travel post-haste "-we developed out
of this, along with the historical growth of human institutions.  The establishment of a series of stations, posts, for
the trusty and rapid transmission of passengers and mails
along a road, leads finally to the familiar use of such terms
as post-coach, post-master, and postaye.  What a cluster of
derived uses is gathered about the word head, as illustrated
in the phrases the head of a pin, a head of cabbage, the head
of a bed, the head of a household or of a sect, the head of a
river, the heads of a discourse, a head of hair, so many head
of sheep, of one's own head, to come to a head, to make head!
Balf the whole list X.f figures of rhetoric are exemplified in




108      DIVERGENCE OF MEANINGS OF A WORD.         [LECT.
tile history of this one word. In court, the secondary significations have almost effaced the primitive, and, to be clear,
we say rather the court-yard than the court of a castle; but
a nobleman of the court, a case in court, the court instructs
the jury, to pay court; and the derivative words courtly,
courteous, a courtesy, courtship, courtier, courtesan, all coming
from one of the specific applications of court, tell us of the
manners of those who walk in kings' houses.
Not seldom, the proper meaning of a word is altogether
lost, and it diverges into others so unlike that the common
apprehension is unable to connect them by any tie.  Become
contains come, but not to be, although we may often render it
by' come to be'. Its be is the same with that of befall, beset,
bemoan, a prefix giving a transitive meaning to an intransitive
verb: to become is originally'to come upon, to come by, to
obtain, to get'.  The transfer of meaning, from'obtain' to'come to be', is a somewhat peculiar one; but that it is
natural enough is shown by the fact that we have gone on to
treat in the same way the equivalent verb to get, saying he
gets tired for he becomes tired, and so on.  From  the same
primitive sense of'come upon', we have taken a step in
another direction to' sit well upon, be adapted to, suit', as
when we say " such conduct does not become one in high
station".  To trace the relation between these two meanings
of become is out of the power of most of those who use them;
even the dictionaries enter them as two separate words. Not
much less difficult is the connection of kind,'well-disposed,
friendly', with kind,'a sort or species'; or of like,'to be
fond of', with like,'resembling'-although both are but a
working out, in the minds of the language-makers, of the
thought "a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind ": the
idea of kindred or resemblance leading naturally to that of
consideration and affection. So, once more, how second,' the
sixtieth of a minute', and second as ordinal of two, come to
be the same word, would be a puzzle for most English
speakers: the fact that seconds constitute the secold order in
the sexagesimal subdivision of the hour and of the degree
being by nlo means a conspicuous one; and the act which
stamped this particular second order of division with the name




111.]    AMBIJUITY AND PRECISION OF MEANING.        109
second being not less arbitrary than that which applied the
same term-coming, as it does, from seqzor,'I follow', and
so sinllifying only'the one next following'-to designate the
ordinal which succeeded the first, rather than any other of
the series.
But it is needless to multiply illustrations of this point;
every one knows that it is the usual and normal character of
a word to bear a variety, more or less considerable, of meanings and applications, which often diverge so widely, and are
connected so loosely, that the lexicographer's art is severely
taxed to trace out the tie that runs through them, and exhibit
them in their natural order of development. Hardly a term
that we employ is not partially ambiguous, covering, not a
point, but a somewhat extended and irregular territory of
significance; so that, in understanding what is said to us, we
have to select, under the guidance of the context, or general
requirement of the sense, the particular meaning intended.
To repeat a simile already once made use of, each word is,
as it were, a stroke of the pencil in an outline sketch; the
ensemble is necessary to the correct interpretation of each.
The art of clear speaking or writing consists in so making up
the picture that the right meaning is surely suggested for
each part, and directly suggested, without requiring any
conscious process of deliberation and choice. The general
ambiguity of speech is contended against and sought to be
overcome in the technical vocabulary of every art and science:
in chemistry, for instance, in mineralogy, in botany, by the
observation of minor differences, even back to the ultimate
atomic constitution of things, and by the multiplication and
nice distinction of terms, the classes under which common
speech groups together the objects of common life are broken
up, and each substance and quality is noted by a name which
designates it, and it alone. Mental philosophy attempts the
same thing with regard to the processes and cogn.tions of the
mind; but since, in matters of subjective apprehension, it is impracticable to bring the meaning of words to a definite and
unmistakable test, the difficulty of distinctly denominating
one's ideas, of defining terms, amounts to an impossibility: no
two schools of metaphysics, no two teachers even, agree pre.




110                    SYNONYMS.                  [L'T(
cisely in their phraseology; nor can any one's ioctrine upon
recondite points be fully understood save by those who have
studied longest and most thoroughly the entirety of his system-nor always even by them.
As the significant changes of language thus bring the same
word to the office of designating things widely different, so
they also bring different words to the office of designating the
same or nearly the same thing. Thus the resources of expression are enriched in another way, by the production of
synonyms, names partly accordant, partly otherwise, distinguishing different shades and aspects of the same general idea. I will refer to but a single instance. The feeling of
shrinking anticipation of imminent danger, in its most general manifestation, is calledfear: but for various degrees and
manifestations of fear we have also the names fright, terror,
dread, alarm, apprehension,panic, tremor, timidity, fearfulness,
and perhaps others.  Each of these has its own relations and
associations; there is hardly a case where any one of them is
employed that one or other of the rest might not be put in
its place; and yet, there are also situations where only one
of them  is the best term  to use-though the selection can
only be made, or appreciated when made, by those who are
nicest in their treatment of language, and though no one who
does not possess unusual acuteness and critical judgment can
duly describe and illustrate the special significance of each
term.  We are not to suppose, however, that our synonymy
covers all the distinctions, in this or in any other case, that
might be drawn, and drawn advantageously.  On learning
another language, we may find in its vocabulary a richer
store of expressions for the varieties of this emotion, or a
notation of certain forms of it which we do not heed.
Hardly any word in one tongue precisely fills the domain
appropriated to the word most nearly corresponding with it
in another, so that the former may be invariably translated
by the latter. The same territory of significance is differ.
ently parcelled out in different tongues among the designations which occupy it; nor is it ever completely covered by
them all. The varying shades of fear are practically in.
finite, depending on differences of constitutional impressi.




nt.]      VARIOUS FORMS OF TEE SAME WORD.         111
bility to such a feeling, on differences of character and habit
which would make it lead to different action. Hence the
impossibility that one should ever apprehend with absolute
truth what another, even with the nicest use of languages
endeavours to communicate to him. This incapacity of speech
to reveal all that the mind czntains meets us at every point.
The soul of each man is a mystery which no other man can
fathom: the most perfect system of signs, the most richly
developed language, leads only to a partial comprehension,
a mutual intelligence whose degree of completeness depends upon the nature of the subject treated, and the acquaintance of the hearer with the mental and moral character
of the speaker.
It not infrequently happens that a variation of phonetic
form comes in to aid the variation of significant content of
a word. That minuite portion of time of which sixty make
an hour we call minute (min-it).  Of and off are but differ.
ent English forms of the same Anglo-Saxon word, the latter
retaining the full significance of the ancient preposition, the
former having acquired a greatly attenuated and extended
sense.  Can is a variety of ken,'to know,' and means
etymologically'to know how;' the language-makers had
observed that " knowledge is power " long before it occurred
to Lord Bacon to make the remark.  Worked and wrought,
owned, owed, and ought, are identical in all their constituent
elements, however differently understood and employed by
as. A yet more notable diversity, both of form and meaning, has been established between also and as.  Gentle, genteel, and gentile all go back to the Latin gentilis, which
means simply'pertaining to a gens or race.' So with legal,
loyal, and leal, so with fragile and frail, with secure and sure
-of which the former come more directly from the Latin,
the other from the corrupted French forms. So, too, with
manweuvre and manure, corps and corpse, think and thank,
and a host of other words which might readily be adduced.
Among the examples already given, not a few have illustrated the transfer of a word from a physical to a spirithal
significance. This method of change is one of such pro.
minent importance in the development of language that it




112             DERIVATION OF SPIRITUAL           [LeCT
requires at our hands a more special treatment.  By it has
been generated the whole body of our intellectual, moral,
and abstract vocabulary; every word and phrase of which
this is composed, if we are able to trace its history back to
the beginning, can be shown to have signified originally
something concrete and apprehensible by the senses: its
present use is the result of a figurative transfer, founded
on the recognition of an analogy between a physical and a
cental act or product.  Let us look, for example, at a few
of the terms which we have just been using. Abstract is'drawn off, dragged away;' concrete is'grown together,
compacted,' into something substantial, as we say; that is,
something that'stands beneath,' constitutes a foundation.
S~pirit is'breath.' Intellect comes from a verb signifying'to gather or select among, to choose between.' Apprehend
signifies literally'to lay hold of,' and we still use it in that
sense, as when we say that the officer apprehends the felon;
but we much more often apply it to the laying hold, the
seizing or catching, of something set before our minds to be
received; and we even speakl of an apprehended calamity,
as if our anticipations reached out and laid hold upon that
which has not yet come, and may never come, upon us.
Sympathy is good Greek for'companionship in suffering;'
but if we say that two wounded men on neighbouring pallets
sympathize, we refer, not to their physical distress, but to
that unselfish emotional pain with which every noble heart,
forgetting so far its own griefs, is touched at the sight of
another's.  To possess is'to sit by, to beset' (like the German equivalent, besitzen). When we employ the phrase " I
propose to discuss an important subject," of what a medley
cf metaphors should we be guilty, if we had not forgotten
the etymological meaning of the terms we use! To propose
is'to set in front' of us; to discuss is' to shake to pieces;'
a subject is a thing' thrown under,' something brought under
our notice; important means'carrying within'-that is.
having a content, not empty or valueless.
This subject admits of easiest and most abundant illustration from the Latin side of our language, because so large a
Ehare of our abstract phraseology comes to us from Latin




In.]             FROM PHYSICAL TERMS.               113
sources; yet our Germanic words are full of the same kind
of meaning.  One of our commonest intellectual terms,
understand, is also one presenting an exceptionally bold and
difficult figure: as if to'stand beneath' (or perhaps, according to the older meaning of under, to' stand in the midst
of') a thing were to take such a position of advantage with
regard to it that it could not help disclosing to us its secrets.
Forget is the opposite of get, and means to' fail to get,' or,
having gotten, to lose again from possession. In this latter
sense the language seizes upon it, but arbitrarily restricts its
application to a mental possession, and makes the compound
signify' to lose from memory' only.  I get my lesson, and
forget it again; but the fortune I had once gotten I have by
no means forgotten, when an unlucky venture has made it
slip from my hands. Forgive has had a somewhat similar
history.  It signifies primarily to'give up.'  I forgive a
debt (in phrase now antiquated) when I magnanimously
yield it up to him by whom it is due, waiving my claim
against him on account of it: I forgive an offence when in
like manner I voluntarily release the offender from obligation to make amends, from liability to penalty, for it. It is
only by what was originally a blunder of construction that
we now talk offorgiving the offender, as well as the offence
-a blunder like that which we have made in the treatment
of more thanl one other word: for instance, in please and like;
we said " if you please," " if you like," i. e.'if it please you,''if it like you,' until we forgot that the you was object of
the verb used impersonally, and, apprehending it as subject,
began to say also "if I please;" " if they like;" and again,
in reproach, which means strictly to' approach again,' to
bring up anew before a person what he would fain forget,
and, until its etymology was forgotten, took for direct object
the offence, and for indirect the offender; as, " I reproached
to my friend his fault."   Befall is' fall upon;' but, if
some unlucky person is crushed under the ruins of his
dwelling, we speak, not of the house, but only of the accident, as having befallen him.  Right is'straight, direct;'
wrong is'wrung, twisted;' queer is' crosswise'-and so on,
through the whole list of words of the same kind.
8




114              ATTENUATION OF THE               [LBaO.
There is a large and important class of words, the history
of whose development of meaning illustrates, not so much
an elimination of the physical element, a transfer from a
sensible to an intellectual use, as an effacement of significance, a fading-out of distinctive colour, a withdrawal of substantiality, a reduction to the expression of relation rather
than of quality.  Take as an instance the preposition of,
already referred to as having been, not long since, undistinguished from off, in either form or meaning. Off: still
retains its distinct physical sense, of removal in place; it
means'from, away from, forth from;' in of, we have
attenuated this original idea of removal, procedure, derivation,
into the most general and indefinite one of possession,
appurtenance, connection: we say the top of the mountain,
though the former is not off, but on, the latter; we say the
father of the boy, as well as the son of the man; we say a
sword of steel, pride of birth, the time of Moses, the city of
Athens, and so on.  For, from fore,'in front of,' has
passed through a process closely similar. Also (A.-S. ealt
swa) was made up of all and so, and meant' altogether thus, in
just that way, in like wise;' now, like the abbreviated form
of the last expression, likewise, it simply adds a circumstance
coordinate with one already mentioned; it is hardly more
than a particle of connection. As, as was pointed out
above, is a mutilated form of the same word, with its demonstrative meaning usually converted into a relative: the act
of apprehension which, in a phrase like " he is as good as he
is great " (that is,'he is in that degree or manner good in
which degree he is great'), attributes a demonstrative sense
to the former as, and a relative to the latter, is not less arbi.
trary than the one which attributes, in "the more, the
merrier" (that is,'in what degree more, in that degree
merrier'), a relative sense to the former the, and a demonstrative to the latter.  All those relative words which bind
the parts of a sentence together into an organic whole,
instead of leaving it a congeries of independent clauses, are
of like origin, coming by a gradual change of meaning from
words originally demonstrative or interrogative.  "I knew
that he was ill" is but an altered form of " he was ill; I




m.]                MEANING OF WORDS.                   115
knew that," or " I knew that thing: viz. he was ill;" " we
saw the man who did it " represents " who did it? we sam
the man," or "we saw the man [of whom the inquiry is
made] who did it?"   Than is historically the same word as
then: " he is mightier than I " was once " he is mightier,
then (that is, next after him) I."  Or is a contracted form
of other.  The primary meaning of and is'against;' the
simpler form of the latter, again, has made at least partially-the same transition to a connective. Our articles are
of quite modern development; an or a is the numeral one;
the is the demonstrative that.  We saw some time since how
head has come to stand for' individual;' the butcher talks
of "twenty head of sheep," as if that part of the animal
were not the least valuable from  his point of view.  Hand
is similarly applied: "the head-carpenter and his twenty
hands," if it do not describe one Briarean individual, ought
at least to designate only eleven persons; but in our usage it
denotes twenty-one. Even the peculiarly corporal word body
has been spiritualized, in somebody, anybody, " if a body meet
a body," and so on: to say "nobody was present " is equivalent to saying " not a soul was there," and would be true,
however many corpses, or beasts, or bodies metallic, fluid,
or a6riform, might have been within cognizance. The verb
grow signifies properly' to increase, to change from smaller
to larger,' but we often use it in the simple sense of gradual
change, of' becoming,' and say to grow thin or small, to grow
tired. By a farther extension of the same process, the verb
which in our whole family of languages originally meant'to
grow' (Sansk. bhi, Greekphii5) has in many of them passed
through the idea of' becoming' to that of' being' simply:
the Latin fui, our be, been, are its descendants. Indeed, our
substantive verb to be, the most bodiless and colourless of all
our words, the mere copula between subject and predicate,
is made up of the relics of several verbs which once had a
distinct physical significance: be and been, as just noticed,"
contained the idea of'growing;' am,'art, is, and are, that
of'sitting;'* was and were, that of'dwelling, abiding.'
* I connect, namely, the root as with as,' sitting,' as being most probably
a different form of the same original. Others conjecture the primitive signu
feation to have been that of' breathing.'




116             FORMATION OF PHRASES.             [LEEC.
The corresponding verb in modern French is partly filled up
(etre, dtais, jtd) from the Latin stare,'to stand.'
Not only are certain words thus stripped by the users and
makers of language of the substantial meaning with which
they once were invested, but phrases are also formed, of two
or more words, and applied to uses widely remote from those
which their constituents more generally and properly subserve. An event, we say, takes place, or comes to pass; a
young man turns -out ill; his foibles are tellingly hit off or
taken of; though they had seriously fallen out, they made up
their quarrel, and a good understanding was brought about
between them; they gave up further attempts; at every new
turn, he was headed o~ff anew; I was put up to it, but woefully
put upon, and shall put up with such treatment no longer;
don't take on so, my good fellow-and so on" indefinitely.
Phrases such as these are abundant in every part of language,
and are of every kind and degree of removal from literalness:
in some, a moment's reflection points out the figure or the
implication which has led the way to their establishment in
current use; in others, the transfer has been so distant, and
some of its steps so bold or so obscure, that even a careful
investigation fails fully to show us how it has been accomplished. In phrases, as 2s well known, consists no small
part of the idiom of a language; use determines, not merely
the significance which each word shall bear, but how it shall
be combined with other words, in order to something more
than intelligibility-to expressiveness, to force, to elegance
of style.
All word-making by combination, as illustrated in the last
lecture, is closely analogous with phrase-making: it is but
the external and formal unification of elements which usage
has already made one in idea. The separate and distinctive
meaning of the two words in take place is as wholly ignored
by us who use the expression as is that of the two in break.
fast; that we may allow ourselves to say he breakfasted, but
not it takcplaced, is only an accident; it has no deeper
ground than the arbitrariness of conventional usage. To
hit off is as much one idea as doff (from do off), to take on. as
don (from do on), although we are not likely ever to fuse the




inI.]                FORM-MAKING.                   117
two former intt single words, like the two latter.  It is
clear that, as formerly claimed, the significant content of
words is more plastic than their external form: while iur
language has nearly lost the habit, and so the "power," as
we call it, of making new vocables out of independent ele.
ments, it is still able to combine and integrate the meanings
of such elements, to no small extent.
But again, all form-making includes as an essential part
something of the same attenuation of meaning of the formative element, the same withdrawal of its distinctive substantial significance and substitution of one which is relational and formal, which we have been illustrating in the
history of independent words. The ly of godly, homely,
lively, and so on, no longer means' like;' still less does
that of fully, mostly, etc.  In the ship of lordship, the independent word shape is no more to be recognized by its significanee than by its form.  Even the ful of healthful and
cheerfau  has been weakened in intent from'full of' to'possessed of, characterized by.'  But there are other
phrases which exhibit a closer resemblance and more in.
timate connection with form-making than any hitherto cited.
The d of loved, as we have already seen, is by origin the
imperfect did; I loved means etymologically'I did or performed a loving;' the d has been converted from an inde.
pendent word into a formative element, indicative of past
action, by being compounded with love, and then, in the
relation which it sustained toward that word, losing its distinctive force and meaning, and assuming the value of a
temporal modification merely. With the form I loved, now,
the phrase I did love is virtually equivalent: it contains the
same elements, and they have the same logical value: the
did is there for no other purpose than the d, its hereditary
representati;., and is in idea, not less than the latter, a
formative element; it impresses a modification of temporal
form upon the word with which it is connected, and has no
other office. That it still maintains its grammatical standing
as a separate word constitutes onrly a formal, not an essential,
distinction between the two equivalent expressions. So also
with the verb have, by the aid of which we form other of




118             ORIGIN OF FORM WORDS.             [LECT,
our past tenses, and of which the primitive significance is'possession.' It is easy to see how  " I have my arms
stretched out " might pass into "I have stretched out my
arms," or how, in such phrases as "he has put on his coat,"
"we have eaten our breakfast," "they have finished their
work," a declaration of possession of the object in the con.
dition denoted by the participle should come to be accepted
as sufficiently expressing the completed act of putting it
into that condition;' the present possession, in fact, implies
the past action, and, if our use of have were limited to the
cases in which such an implication was apparent, the expressions in which we used it would be phrases only. When,
however, we extend the implication of past action to every
variety of case-as in " I have discharged my servant," "he
has lost his breakfast," "we have exposed their errors,"
where there is no idea of possession for it to grow out of;
or with neuter verbs, "you have been in error," "he has
come from London," "they have gone away," where there is
even no object for the have to govern, where condition, and
not action, is expressed, and " you are been," " he is come,"
" they are gone" would be theoretically more correct (as
they are alone proper in German)-then we have converted
have from an independent part of speech into a purely
formative element. The same word, by a usage not less
bold and pregnant, though of less frequent occurrence, we
make to signify causation of action, as in the phrases "I
will have him well whipped for his impertinence," " he has
his servant wake him every morning." And, yet once more,
we turn it into a sign of future action, with further implication of necessity, as in "I have to go to him directly."
As is well known, the modern European languages which
are descended from the Latin have formed their simple
futures by means of this phrase, eliminating from it the im.
plication of necessity: the French j'aimerai,'I shall love,'
for instance, is by origin je aimer ai, i.e. j'ai a aimver,' I have
to love.' Nor is our own "I shall love " of different history, for I shall means properly'I owe, am under obligation;' and the will of "he will love," although we now so
commonly emlploy it as the mere sign of futurity, conveys




II.]            ORIGIN OF FORM WORDS.                  119
the idea of'wish, intent, determination.' The Anglo-Saxon
had no future tense, but habitually employed its present in
the sense of both present and future; we have struck out,
in our modern usage, a peculiarly rich synonymy of expressions for future action: there are the two already men.
tioned, I will go, and I shall go, each of which is capable of
use as simple future, or with a modal implication; further,' have to go, with the nearly equivalent I am to go; I am
goin.? to go (to which the French adds the closely correlative
expression " I am coming from going," je viens d'aller, that
is,'I have just gone'); I am on the point of going, and I
am about to go-with which is nearly allied the Hibernicism,
I am after going, for'I have gone.'  These phrases will
illustrate the ease with which are found, in the resources of
a rich and flexible language, means of denoting a given
relation, the variety in which they may be produced, and
the arbitrariness with which certain ones are selected for
most frequent and familiar employment.
An instance of a purely formal word of a different character is furnished us in the preposition to as " sign of the
infinitive." The infinitive is originally and properly the
verbal noun, and, as a noun, should be governed by any
preposition which the sense may require. The present usage
of our language, however, forbids this freedom of construction,
and assigns to the infinitive to as its almost constant accom.
paniment.  At first, the to was only employed where it had
its proper significance, as in phrases like " I am here to help
him," that is,'in order to the helping him,' "lawful for him
to eat," that is,' to the eating;' * now, no regard whatever
is had to this consideration, and, to the apprehension of
every speaker of English, to is as arbitrary and non-significant a sign of this form of the verb as is the ending en of
the German essen, or re of the Latin edere.
Yet another class of words having the grammatical status
of independent members of the sentence, but the logical
* In Anglo-Saxon, him alyfede to etanne,'allowed him unto eating.'
the Anglo-Saxon putting the infinitive after to into a distinct dative case,
but leaving it uninflected when the object of a verb; as in hi ongunncu
stan,'they began eating.'




120             VARIETY OF DERIVATIVES            [LEOT.
value of formative elements, is exemplified in the preposition
of, as already noticed. The of in "a crown of gold" is
equivalent to the adjective suffix en in "a golden crown;"
that in "the son of the king" to the genitive ending s in
" the king's son."
We have paid the more attention to this kind of words,
because of their importance in the history of language.
Such shadowy and half-formal parts of speech as an and the,
such quasi formative elements as do and have, as to and of are
products of the development of language which by their
prevalence mark a distinct tendency, known as the " analytical," and characteristic, in a greater or less degree, of many
of the modern tongues with which ours is related. We
shall have to take it into further account in connection with
another department of our subject (see lecture seventh).
Let us now look at a single example going to show to
what a rich variety the processes of development of meaning
may lead among the derivatives of a single verb. Pono, in
Latin,-signifies'put,' or'place,' but we might well spend an
hour in tracing out all the store of ideas which it has been
made in our language the means of designating. Some of
its uses we have inherited from the Latin; others were
struck out during the later period of the French; yet others
have grown up on Euglish soil; and we are even now far
from having exhausted its capabilities of expression.  From
the uncompounded root come pose, a p-i'er, position, with its
many applications, post, with its still more various and
special uses, posture, positive, and so forth.  Then, as combined with prefixes, for the most part significant merely of
place and direction, it gives us an apposite remark; apposition of nouns; component parts; composure of mind; a great
composer; compositions and declamations; a composing-stick;
compost-heaps; compound interest; to compound a felony; a
deponent verb; the deponent saith; a' deposed king; depositions from water; a school-book depository; removal of the
deposits; a railway depot; an exponent of democratic principles; to expose a fraud; exposed to attack; clear exposition
of a hard text; a lawn with southern exposure; an imposing
figure; imposts and customs; miserable impostor; consecrated




III.3            FROM A SINGLE ROOT                  121
by imlposititn of hands; to imnpound stray cattle; an imposing.
stone; all his disposable forces; disposed to sleep; an amiable
disposition; the prima donna is indisposed; troops disposed
in three lines; God disposes; a worthy opponent; the house
opposite; member of the opposition; divine interposition; he
proposed to her; fifth proposition, first book; propounded for
admission; locked in sweet repose; to repose confidence;
what do you purpose? he did it on purpose; an effect supposes a cause; at least, I suppose so; a supposititious heir;
and so on.  Here is but a selection from among the multitude of expressions for heterogeneous conceptions which
have grown out of the sign for the simple idea of'putting'
or'placing;' but, though a striking, they are not an exceptional instance of the manner in which linguistic usage
deals with all the material of language. As new experiences
are met with, new deductions drawn, new opinions formed,
new mental combinations made, new products brought forth,
new existences discovered, language finds no difficulty in
enlarging itself to represent them. The material which lies
most conveniently at hand, even if it be not very near, is
seized and applied to the purpose: that which was general
is individualized; that which was individual is generalized;
the concrete becomes the abstract; every variety of meta.
phor, of elliptical and pregnant expression, is resorted to, and,
however bold and even startling at first, sinks by degrees to
the level of ordinary prosaic appellation; and delicate shades
of meaning are distinguished by the gradual separation of
words at first equivalent. The multiplicity of these changes,
and the variety of their results, our examples have been
wholly inadequate to set forth with any fulness or completeness; only enough has been said to bring to light the
leading facts and principles, to show what a fertile power of
modification and adaptation is inherent in our speech, and
that, in seeking and finding names for individual objects of
conception, it is restrained within no narrow limits of action.
It must not fail to be observed that these processes of
word-making, of names-giving, in all their variety, are not,
in the fullest sense, consciously performed: that is to say,
they are not, for the most part, yremeditated and reflective.




122        DEGREES OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE         [Ltar,
There may be found among them, indeed, every degree of
reflection, sometimes rising even to full premeditation,
When there is first brought to the knowledge of a com.
munity some new substance or product, either natural or
artificial, some result of invention or discovery, some process
formerly unknown, people ask themselves deliberately
"what shall we call it? " and it is by a conscious effort
that they devise and assign its appellation-there being, at
the same time, an unconscious part to the process; namely,
the manner in which their selection is guided and determined by the already subsisting usages and analogies of
their speech, and by the limitations of their intelligence.
The zoologist, the chemist, the geologist, when they want
a new technical term or distinctive name, go of set purpose
to such sources as their Greek and Latin dictionaries, or
search out local or personal associations upon which to
found their choice; they con over the various distinctive
qualities or accidental circumstances of the thing to be de.
nominated, and weigh the capabilities and advisabilities of
the case as deliberately as does the father when deciding
after which rich uncle, or what noted public character, he
shall have his son christened. Sometimes the scientific man
has put upon him the task of devising a terminology, as
well as a nomenclature-as was the case with those French
chemists, at the end of the last century, who fixed the
precise scientific meaning to be thenceforth signified by a
who:e apparatus of formative elements, of suffixes and prefixes: for example, in sulphuret, sulphuric, sulphurous, sul.
phate, sulphite, sulphide, biszlphate, sesquisulphide, and so on.
This is, indeed, of the nature of an artificial universal language, built up of precise, sharply distinguished, and invariably regular signs for the relations of ideas-such a language as some have vainly imagined it possible to invent and
teach for all the infinitely varied needs of speech, and for
the use of the whole human race: the chemical terminology
is, in its own sphere, of universal applicability, and is
adopted by chemists of various race and native tongue. But
human language is not made in this way.  The most important and intimate part of linguistic growth, that which




n!.]           PROCESSES OF WORD-MAKING.           L23
affects the vocabulary of general and daily use, earned by
every child, used in the common intercourse of life, goes
on in a covert and unacknowledged manner; it is almost
insensibly slow in its progress; it is the effect of a gradual
accumulation of knowledge and quickening of insight; it is
wrought out, as it were, item by item, from the mass of the
already subsisting resources of expression: the mind, familiar
with a certain use of a term, sees and improves a possibility
of its extension, or modification, or nicer definition; old
ideas, long put side by side and compared, prompt a new
one; deductions hitherto unperceived are drawn from
premises already known; a distinction is sharpened; a
conception is invested with novel associations; experience
suggests a new complex of ideas as calling for conjoint expression. Speech is the work of the mind coming to a
clearer consciousness of its own conceptions and of their
combinations and relations, and is at the same time the
means by which that clearer consciousness is attained; and
hence, it works its own progress; its use teaches its improvement; practice in the manipulation of ideas as repre.
sented by words leads the way to their more adroit and
effective management.  A vocabulary, even while undergo.'
ing no extension in substantial content of words and forms,
may grow indefinitely in expressiveness, becoming filled up
with new senses, its words and phrases made pregnant with;
deeper and more varied significance.  It may do so, and it
will, if there lie in the nature and circumstances of the
people who speak it a capacity for such growth. The speech
of a community is the reflex of its average and collective
capacity, because, as we have already seen, the community
alone is able to make and change language; nothing can.
become a part of the common treasure of expression which is
not generally apprehended, approved, and accepted. It is not
true, as is sometimes taught or implied, that a genius or
commanding intellect, arising among a people, can impress a
marked effect upon its language-least of all, in the earlier
stages of linguistic development, or amid ruder and more
primitive conditions of culture. No individual can affect
speech directly except by separate items of change in respect




124          FORM-MAKING UNREFLECTIVE.           [LEOT
to which he sets an example for others to follow and an
example which will be followed in proportion as the changes
are accordant with already prevailing usage and naturally
suggested by it: the general structure and character of language are out of his reach, save as he can raise the common
intellect, and quicken and fertilize the minds of his fellows,
thus sowing seed which may spring up and bear fruit in
language also. If he attempt anything like innovation, the
conservatism of the community will array itself against him
with a force of resistance against which he will be powerless. The commanding intellect has much the better
opportunity to act effectively in a cultivated and lettered
people, inasmuch as his inciting and lifting influence can be
immediately exerted upon so many more of his fellows, and
even upon more than one generation.
Especially is it true that all form-making is accomplished
by a gradual and unreflective process. It is impossible to
suppose, for instance, that, in converting the adjective like
into the adverbial suffix ly, there was anything like intention or premeditation, any looking forward, even, to the final
result. One step simply prepared the way for and led to
another. We can trace the successive stages of the transfer,
but we cannot see the historical conditions and linguistic
habits which facilitated it, or tell why, among all the
Germanic races, the English alone should have given the
suffix this peculiar application; why the others content
themselves without any distinctive adverbial suffix, nor feel
that their modes of expressing the adverbial relation are less
clear and forcible than ours. And so in every other like case.
An aptitude in handling the elements of speech, a capacity
to perceive how the resources of expression can be applied
to formative uses, a tendency toward the distinct indication
of formal relations rather than their implication merelythese, in their natural and unconscious workings, constitute
the force which produces grammatical forms, which builds
up, piece by piece, a grammatical system, more or less full
and complete. Every language is the product and expression of the capacities and tendencies of a race as bearing
upon the specific work of language-making; it illustrates




III ]    CONCEPTIONS ANTECEDENT T( THEIR NAMES.    125
what they could do in this particular walk of human effort;
and the variety of product shows the difference of human
endowment in this regard, even more strikingly than the
variety of the art-products of different peoples exhibits their
diverse grade and kind of artistic power to conceive and
execute.
For, as has been already pointed out, and must here again
be insisted on, every single act in the whole process of making words and forming language, at every period of linguistic
development, has been a human act. Whether more or less
deliberately performed, it was always essentially of the same
kind; it was something brought about by the free action of
men. Its reasons lay in human circumstances, were felt in
human minds, and prompted human organs to effort. No
name was ever given save as a man or men apprehended
some conception as calling for expression, and expressed it.
Every idea had its distinct existence before it received its
distinctive sign; the thought is anterior to the language
by which it is represented. To maintain the opposite, to
hold that the sign exists before the thing signified, or that
a conception cannot be entertained without the support of a
word, would be the sheerest folly; it would compel us to
assert that galvanism could not be recognized as a new form
of natural force, hitherto undescribed, until its discoverers
had decided what to style it; that Neptune was not visible
in the astronomer's glass till it had been determined after
which of the Grecian divinities it should be christened; that
the spinner's mnule and jenny were not built till the inventor
had chosen a name for them; that the aniline colours made
upon the eye no impressions distinguishable from those of
hues long familiar until the battle-fields had been pitched
upon whose names they should bear; that the community
had no appreciation of the frequent tediousness and impertinence of official forms until they had agreed to call it red
tape; that the human race did not see that the colour of
growing things like leaves and grass was different from those
of the clear sky, of blood, of earth, of snow, until, from the
name for growing, they had worked out for it a name green,
as well as, by some similar process, like names for the




126         REASONS OF ETYMOLOGY FOUNDED          [LEMCE
others. Men do not lay up in store a list of ideas, to be
provided with spoken signs when some convenient season
shall come; nor do they prepare a catalogue of words, to
which ideas shall be attached when found: when the thing
is perceived, the idea conceived, they find in the existing
resources of speech the means of its expression-a name
which formerly belonged to something else in some way
akin with it; a combination of words, a phrase, which perhaps remains a phrase, perhaps is fused into, or replaced by,
a single word. Thus, for example, men were proposed in
ancient Rome for the free suffrages of their fellow-citizens,
and were, without difficulty, variously described as such,
before any distinctive appellation for one in such a plight
had been established; but the fortuitous circumstance that
Roman usage required those who were openly seeking office
to be candidatos,' dressed in white (candidus),' led by degrees
to their designation, pregnantly, as candidati; and now,
through nearly the whole civilized world, he who aspires to
election or selection to any place or station is styled a
candidate.
Thus it is that the reason why anything is called as we are
accustomed to call it is a historical reason; it amounts to
this: that, at some time in the past-either when the thing
w-as first apprehended, or at some later period-it was convenient for men to apply to it this name. And the principal
item in this convenience was, that certain other things were
already named so and so.  Until we arrive at the very
beginnings of speech (the character and origin of which must
be reserved for discussion at a later period of these lectures),
every name comes, by combination, derivation, or simple
transfer of meaning, from some other name or names: men
do not create new words out of hand; they construct them
of old material.  At the time and under the circumstances,
thien, when each term  acquired its given significance, the
possession of certain other resources of expression, combined
with certain usages of speech and habits of thought, and
influenced by external circumstances, caused men's choice to
fall upon it rather than upon any other combination of
sounds.  Thus every word has its etymology or derivation,




r.l]        IN CONVENIENCE, NOT NECESSITY.           127
and to trace out its etymology is to follow up and exhibit its
transfers of meaning and changes of form, as far back and as
completely as the nature of the case allows. To recur to
our last example-candidate is the modern abbreviated form
of candidatus, participle of the (implied) Latin derivative
verb candidare,'to whiten,' from candidus,' white;' and the
historical circumstance which suggested its selection and
application to its purpose has been pointed out.  Candidus
is itself a derivative adjective, coming fiom the verb candeo,
which means'to shimmer, to shine;' it designates properly a
glittering or sheeny white. We have this also in our language, little altered in form, as the word candid; but, though
it may be found here and there in old authors employed in
its sensible, physical signification of'white,' it has in our
ordinary use been transferred, by a figure of which every one
appreciates the naturalness, to indicate a mental quality,
freedom from bias or prejudice, from dissimulation, from
deceit-those dark shades and spots on a character.  Few
of us ever think of a connection of idea between candid and
candidate; and the less, as the position indicated by the
latter word is by no means favourable to the development of
the virtue expressed by the former. The verb candeo we are
able to trace one or two steps farther back, through caneo and
canus, to a root can, which signifies' shining;' this, to our
analysis, is an ultimate fact, beyond which we cannot at
present penetrate.
But, while words thus have their historical grounds, while
the etymologist can explain how they came to receive the
value which we attribute to them, we must beware of ascribing too cogent or too permanent a force to the etymological
reason.   It was not a necessary reason; there was no
element of compulsion in it. The Roman seeker for office
might just as well have gotten some such name as propozent,'proposer,' or petent,'seeker,' as the one by which he actu.
ally came to be called; either of these, it may be claimed, is
more truly significant than candidate, which expresses only a
fortuitous circumstance of external garb, and was applicable
to any one who should choose to wear a white dress.  All
that can be said in reply is that the Romans were in fact




128    ETYMOLOGICAL KNOWLEDGE OF NO ACCOUNT  [LET.
guided by the fortuitous rather than the more significant
circumstance to their selection of a name. So, also, the Latin
word albus or the Germanic word white might have been not
less readily than candidus applied to designate the possession of candour; only the language-makers, for reasons
which they themselves could not have explained, willed it
otherwise. Among the various metaphors by which such a
quality was signifiable and from time to time signified, this
chanced to be the one which established itself in frequent
use, and of which the metaphorical origin was by degrees forgotten. From among many possible expedients, it was the
one pitched upon for filling this special need, for increasing
in this direction the resources of expression. And then,
when the expedient is once found, when the name is accepted
by the community and installed in its office, the etymological!
reason becomes no longer operative; the sole and sufficient
authority for the use of the term is the -cmmnmon assent and
custom. Individuals do not go on indefinitely to repeat the
act of transfer which first allotted a word to its use; they
establish a direct mental association between the idea and
the sign, and depend upon that. As was pointed out in the
first lecture (p. 14), the child does not concern himself with
questions of etymology when learning to talk; the words
which he acquires he receives and employs implicitly, for the
sole reason that those about him employ them. As he grows
older, he will, in varying degree, according to his turn of
mind, his general culture, and his particular education, turn
his attention to etymological inquiries, and please himself
with tracing out why the words which he has learned or
learns were elected to the office in which they serve him.
But it is always a.matter of reflection, of learned curiosity;
it concerns, not the general users of speech, but him who
would study its history. To the greatest etymologist who
lives, not less than to the most ignorant and unreflective
speaker, the reason why he calls a certain idea by a certain
name is simply that the community in which he lives so call
it, and will understand him when he does the same. It is
quite worth while to know how candidate and candid came to
epnan as they do; but mur knowledge or our ignorance of theit




111.1      IN THE PRACTICAL USE OF WORDS.           129
etnymol gy does not determine our use and understanding of
the terms.  It is, no doubt, an interesting and valuable bit
of information for the physicist that galvanism was named
after its first discoverer; the fact is one of which no student
no well-informed man even, should be ignorant; but one may
use the word galvanism as well for all practical purposes
without ever having heard of Galvani; and thousands do it
every day. How few of those who talk about electricity are
aware that it signifies by derivation'the quality of being like
amber (Greek, elektron),' and has no better ground than the
accidental circumstance that the first recognized manifestation of this potent force was the power of attracting light
objects exhibited by a piece of amber when rubbed? And as
to the etymological reason of elektron itself, as Greek designation of' amber,' it is irrecoverably lost. It is, however,
far from being at our option to declare the etymology of
electricity a paltry and insufficient one, and to resolve that
we will have a name which shall denote some more essential
quality of the force, and of which we can trace the history
back to the very beginning; he would be laughed at for a
fool who should attempt such a revolution; a designation in
the use of which the community are agreed is good enough
for any one: it requires no other sanction.  If the case were
otherwise, if the right to use a word depended in any manner on its etymology, then every human being would have to
be an etymologist, prepared to render a reason, when called
upon, for everything he utters. But, in fact, only the most
skilled and practised student of his native tongue can explain
the history of any considerable part of its vocabulary; and
even his researches are apt to carry him back through no
more than the latest stages of its growth: the ultimate faces
are out of his reach.
We study, th ell, the history of words, not in order to assure
ourselves of our right to employ them as we do, but to satisfy
a natural curiosity respecting the familiar and indispensable
means of our daily intercourse, and to learn something of
the circumstances and character of those who established
them in use.  It is because every act of word-making is a
historical act, the work of human minds under the guidance
9




130                   EXAMPLES OF                 [LrECT.
of human circunlstances, that the investigation of language
Is an inquiry into the internal and external history of men.
The results of such investigation are of the most varied
character.  Sometimes we find at the basis of a word a mere
blunder of philosophy, as when we talk about lunatics, as if
we still believed the aberration of their wits to depend upon
the devious motions of the moon (luna); or a blunder of
natural history, as when we call our own native American
feathered biped a turkey, in servile imitation of that illinformed generation of Englishmen, which, not knowing
whence he came, but surmising that it might probably enough
be Turkey, dubbed him " the Turkey fowl;" or a blunder of
geography, as when we style our aborigines Indians, because
the early discoverers of this continent set their faces west.
ward from Europe to find India, and thought at first that
they had found it.  Copper, the magnet, parchment commemorate for us the countries Cyprus, Macnesia, and Pergamos,
whence those substances were first brought to the founders
of our civilization.  ilianumit, like candidate, owes its existence to a peculiar Roman custom-of dismissing, namely,
with a slap of the hand a slave made free. Mlfoney and mint
(two different forms of the same original, moneta, the one
coming from the French monnaie, the other from the AngloSaxon mynet) tell of Roman superstition' and Roman convenience: within the imperial city was raised a temple to
Juno 2lioneta,'Juno the iuironisher,' in recognition of the
supernatural monitions the goddess had given them in certain
crises of their history; and in this temple, as it chanced,
was set up the first sstamp and die for coining money.  We
say calculates because the early Romans reckoned by the aid
of little pebbles (calculi). We call a truckling and unscrupulous parasite a sycophant, because it once pleased the men
of Athens to pass a law forbidding the exportation of figs
from Attica; which, as is apt to be the case with such laws,
was little more than a dead letter; while yet there were
found in the community certain mean fellows who sought to
gain their selfish ends by blabbing, or threatening to blab, of
those who violated it (siiko-phaites,' fig-blabber'). We put
on a" pair Jf rubbers," because, when that most m ltifariously




nI.]                  ETYMOLOGIES.                   131
valuable substance, caoutchouc, was first brought to us, we
could find for it no better use than the rubbing out of
pencil-marks.   A  whole chapter of literary  history is
included in the derivation of romantic from Rome: it tells of
the rise of rude popular dialects, alongside the learned and
polished Latin, in the various provinces of the Roman
empire; and of the rise of modern European fiction, written
so distinctively in these dialects that it got its name from
them; and, finally, of the tone and style of fictitious writing,
and the characters it deals with. In like manner, a chapter of
religious history is summed up in the word pagan (literally,' villager'): it tells of the obstinate conservation of heathenism in the villages and hamlets under Roman dominion,
when the cities had already learned and embraced Christianity. And, once more, slave suggests a chapter in ethnological history: it tells of the contempt in which the Slaves
or Slavonians of eastern and central Europe were held by the
more powerful and cultivated Germans, and of the servitude
to which so many of them were reduced. Several among the
words we have thus instanced —as lunatic, candidate, romantic, money-farther include, as an essential part of their
history, the career of one great conquering and civilizing
power, the Roman, whose language, along with its knowledge
and institutions, has been spread to every part of the globe.
The etymology of moon, as signifying'measurer,' has given
us an interesting glimpse of the modes of thought of that
primitive people who first applied this name to the earth's
satellite, and to whom her office as a divider of times was so
prominent among her attributes.   And this is but one
among innumerable instances in which our conceptions of
olden times and peoples are aided, are made definite and
vivid, by like means. To study the moral and intellectual
vocabulary of any tongue is of high interest, and full of
instruction as to the laws and phenomena of association
which have led to its development out of the earlier signs
for physical and sensible things: we are constantly brought
to the recognition both of the unity of human nature, as
shown by the general resemblances which such study brings
to light, and tof the diversity of human character and circum9o




132            OBLIVION OF ETYMOLOGIES          LLECM
stance, as exhibited in the etymological variety of corre.
sponding appellations. In this capacity of language to yield
to its historical investigator information concerning both the
internal life and external history and circumstances of those
who have made it what it is, lies, as was pointed out in the
outset of our inquiries, no small portion of the interest
attaching to linguistic study.
But etymological reminiscences, while thus of the highest
value to him who reflects upon language and examines its
history, are, as regards the practical purposes of speech, of
very subordinate consequence; nay, they would, if more prominent before our attention, be an actual embarrassment to
us. Language would be half spoiled for our use by the
necessity of bearing in mind why and how its constituents
have the value we give them., Tne internal development of
a vocabulary, too, would be greatly checked and hampered by
a too intrusive etymological consciousness. All significant
transfer, growth of new meanings, form-making, is directly
dependent upon our readiness to forget the derivation of our
terms, to cut loose from historical connections, and to make
the tie of conventional usage the sole one between the thing
signified and its spoken sign. Much the greater part of the
resources of expression possessed by our language would be
struck off at a blow, if a perceived bond of meaning between
etymon and derivative were a requisite to the latter's existence and use. Those, then, are greatly in error who would
designate by the name "linguistic sense" (sprachsinn) a
disposition to retain in memory the original status and value
of formative elements, and the primary significance of trans.
ferred terms; who would lay stress upon the maintenance
of such a disposition, and regard its wane as an enfeeble.
ment, a step downward toward the structural decay of lan.
guage. On the contrary, the opposite tendency is the true
principle of lively and fertile growth, both of the form and
content of speech, and, as we shall see hereafter, it prevails
most in the languages of highest character and destiny. A
certain degree of vividness, of graphic and picturesque
quality, it is true, is conferred upon a term which has been
applied by a metaphor to a mental or philosophic use, by thle




1b. 3      NECESSARY TO LINGUISTIC GR~OWTH.          133
continued apprehension of the metaphor; but vividness is a
quality which is dearly bought at the expense of any degree
of obje,'tive clearness, of dry and sober precision; and it can
always be attained, when really wanted, by new figures, after
old figures have become prosaic appellations. As we rise,
too, in the scale of linguistic use, from that which is straightforward and unreflective to that which is elaborate, pregnant,
artistic, etymological considerations in many cases rise in
value, and constitute an important element in that suggestiveness which invests every word, giving it its delicacy of
application, making it full of significance and dignity where
another term, coarsely synonymous with it, would be tame
and ineffective.   A  pregnant implication of etymologic
meaning often adds strikingly to the force and impressiveness of an expression. Yet this is but one element among
many, and its degree of consequence is, I am convinced, apt
to be over-estimated.  To recur once more to some of our
former illustrations-while an allusion to the whiteness of
soul signified in candid may touch and interest one whose
classical education enables him to recognize and appreciate
it, nothing but a joke or a conceit could well be extracted
from the etymology of candidate; while apprehend affords
possible ground for a use in which both the physical and
intellectual meanings shall be clearly felt, the one enforcing
the other, understand would lend itself to no such treatment.
And most of our words are in the condition of candid, can.
didate, and understand; either, as in the case of the two last,
the etymology is trivial or obscure, or, as in the case of the
first, it is within reach only of the learned, and cannot aid
the general speaker and hearer. On the whole, a word,
both in its direct significance and in its suggestiveness, is
just what our usage makes it. Hardly any two vocables
that we employ are more instinct with deep meaning, more
untranslatable into other tongues, than home and comfort;
yet neither of them borrows aught from etymology; the one
signifies by derivation nothing more intimate than the place
where one lives, the other, than the conferral of strength
(con-fortare); nor has either an etymon in English, dis.
coverable without curious research.  It is true that fatherly




13-4       OUR USE OF WORDS INDEPENDENT           [LECT.
brotherly, womanly have, to our apprehension, a greater
depth and intimacy of significance than paternal, fraternal,
feminine, and so in many other like cases; yet the part of
this which is due to the perceived, connection of the former
with father, brother, woman is probably less than is usually
imagined; the difference of the two classes consists much
more in their character as Anglo-Saxon and as Latin respectively, and in the more formal and learned use of the latter
class, as is usual with the Latin part of our language, when
compared with the other. How independent of all etymological aid is our conventional sense of the meaning of the
words we familiarly use may be shown by a great variety of
facts in our language. It is convenient to have the various
conjugational and declensional parts of our verbs and nouns
agree in form as in sense: where we say I love, to say also
he loves, we love, they loved, having loved; where we say man,
to say also man's, men, men's; yet we say I am, he is, we are,
they were, having been, and I, my, we, our, she and her, go and
went, think and thought, and so on, without any sense whatever of hesitation or difficulty.  So, on the other hand, it
gives us no manner of trouble to separate words which
ought, according to the usual analogies of the language, to
stand in a near relation of meaning together; however close
may be their correspondence of form, it does not disturb the
independent act of association by which we bind together
each separate sign and its own conventional idea: take as
instances home and homely, scarce and scarcely, direct and
directly, lust and lusty, naught and naughty, clerk and clergy,
a forge and forgery, candid and candidate, hospital and hospi.
tality, idiom and idiocy, light, alight, and delight, guard and
regard, approach and reproach, hold, behold, and beholden —.and it would be easy to gather an indefinite list of such
words. They furnish, indeed, only another illustration of
that power of the mind over its instruments which appears
in the facility and directness wherewith, as has been already
pointed out, we select from among the various and often
very diverse meanings of a single word-such as kind, like.
become, court, head-that one which the circumstances and
the connection require. They help us to apprehend the




III.]            OF ETYMOlOGICAL AID.               135
true relation of our speech to our thoughts, as being their
assistant and means of communication, not their director or
indispensable accompaniment.
Our review of the processes constituting the life of language is now completed: in the next lecture, we shall go on
to consider the circumstances which hasten or retard their
action, and their effect in bringing about the separation of
languages into dialects




LECTURE IV.
Varying rate and kind of linguistic growth, and causes affecting ft.
Modes of growth of the English language. Influences conservative of
linguistic identity.  Causes producing dialects; causes maintaining,
producing, or extending homogeneity of speech. Ill-,strations: history
of the German language; of the Latin; of the English. The English
language in America.
WE have, in the last two lectures, occupied ourselves with
tracing out and illustrating by typical examples the chief
processes of that incessant change, that linguistic growth,
which marks a language as living, as undergoing, in the
minds and mouths of a community, constant adaptation to
their needs, constant adjustment to their preferences and
caprices. These processes, as we saw, have to do both with
the external form of speech, its spoken and audible body,
and with its internal content, its intended and apprehensible
meaning. As regards the former, they appeared to be of
two general kinds or classes: on the one hand, they partake
of the nature of corruption and decay, consisting in the abbreviation and mutilation of existing words, the wearing off
of formative elements and consequent loss of forms, the
abandonment of old distinctions along with the means of
their expression, the dying out of words and phrases from
memory and use; on the other hand, they are of the nature
of growth, providing for the repair of this waste, and the
supply of new additions to the resources of expression, by
the putting together of old material into fresh combinations,
the elaboration of formative elements out of words possess.




Iv.]     VARIOUS RATE OF LING UISTIC GROWTH.       137
ing ind,.pendent significance, and the application of accidental
differences to the practical uses of significant distinction.
And this external decay and growth is accompanied by, and
accessory to, a rich and ever-progressing development of
ideal content, which deals at its will with all the material of
speech, which contracts, expands, and transfers the meanings of words, which converts the physical and concrete into
the intellectual and abstract, which produces variety out of
sameness, and is never at a loss for means whereby to provide with its suitable sign any fresh acquisition to the sum
of things known, any new conception or deduction. In
continuing at present our discussion of the life of language,
we have first to note the varying rate at which the processes
of growth go on, and to bring to light some of the circum.
stances which affect their progress.
The fact of variation in the rate of linguistic growth, it
may be remarked by way of introduction, is a very obvious
one. Our own English has changed much less during the
past two hundred and fifty years than during the like period
next preceding; and vastly less in the last five centuries
than during the five which went before them. The German
of the present day is not more altered from the ancient type
of Germanic speech than was the English of six or seven
centuries ago; nor the Icelandic now current than the
Anglo-Saxon of King Alfred and his predecessors. The
modern Romanic dialects-the Spanish, French, Italian, and
the rest-have deviated far more widely from the Latin of
Cicero and Virgil than has the dialect of the Greeks from
that of Cicero's Hellenic contemporaries; and they differ
from one another not a little in the degree, as well as in the
mode, of their respective deviation.  To go somewhat
further from home, the Arabic of the Bedouin in this century is incomparably more nearly identical with that of the
tribes through whose borders the children of Israel were led
by Moses than is any one of our contemporary European
tongues with its ancestor of the same remote period. And there
are to be found upon the face of the earth dialects which are
even now so rapidly changing that those who speak them
would be unable to converse with either their ancestors




138            EXTERNAL CIRCUMSTANCES.    rLECT,
or their descendants across an interval of four or five genera.
tions.
Now the particular modes and departments of linguistic
change are so diverse that no one cause, or kind of causes,
can affect them all, or affect them all alike, either to quicken
or to retard them.  But the plainest and most apprehensible
influence is that which is exerted by change of external circumstances, surroundings, mode of life, mental and physical
activity, customs and habits; and to this, accordingly, we will
first direct our attention.  How powerfully such causes may
act upon language will be best shown, perhaps, by imagining
an extreme case. Suppose an illiterate English family to be
cast away upon a coral islet in the Pacific, and to be left
there isolated through a succession of generations. How
much of our language would at once begin to become useless
to them! All that is connected with variety of scenery, as
hill and dale, as rock and river; with diversity of season, of
temperature, of skyey influences; with wealth of animal and
vegetable life; with multifariousness of experience, of occupation, of material, of production-and much more, which it
is needless to specify.  For a certain period, some part of
this might be kept alive by memory and tradition, but not
for ever; it would lose its distinctness before the mind, become shadowy, and by degrees die out; and its loss would
be facilitated by that stupefying effect which the climate and
mode of life, with their restricted limits and dull uniformity,
would unavoidably have upon the mind; vigour of thought
and liveliness af sentiment would be likely to decline; and,
after the lapse of a sufficient period to allow these causes
their full effect, the wealth of English speech might be reduced to a poverty comparable with that of some among the
present Polynesian dialects. But suppose, on the other
hand, a Polynesian family set down in the midst of a country
like Iceland, amid magnificent and terrible scenery, amid
~varieties of nature innumerable, where hard labour and
prudent forethought, tasking all the moral and physical
energies of man, are needed to preserve life and make it endurable-suppose them to be' able to bear and adapt themselves to this tremendous change, and how rapidly would




xv.;         - AFFECT LINGUISTIC GROWTH.             139
their language grow in names and expressions for objnots,
processes, experiences, emotions, relations!
This is but a magnified example of what is'always and
everywhere going on in language: it expands and contracts
in close adaptation to the circumstances and needs of those
who use it; it is enriched and impoverished along with the
enrichment or impoverishment of their minds. We have
already pointed out that the lowest and least educated classes
of English speakers use not a tenth of the words wrich
constitute to our apprehension the English tongue; the reduction, then, of the English people in its entirety to the
condition of the classes referred to would imply the utter extinction of more than nine-tenths of its resources of expression: and all declension of civilization, decay of natural
vigour, intermission of instruction, tends, in its way and
measure, toward such a result; while, on the other hand, a
race that is growing in knowledge and rising in character
makes its tongue richer and nobler at every step of its up.
ward career. But it is needless to insist farther upon a
truth so obvious: no one will think of denying that the content of any language, in words and phrases and their meanings, must correspond with and be measured by the mental
wealth of the community to whom it belongs, and must
change as this changes. It is but the simplest corollary
from the truth which we have already established, that men
make their own language, and keep it in existence by their
tradition, and that they make and transmit it for their own
practical uses, and for no other end whatsoever.
A vastly more subtle and difficult question is, in what
shall consist the linguistic growth which change of circum.
stance demands, or to which varying character and choice
impel: how far shall it lie in the accession or withdrawal
of words and meanings of words, and how far in development or decay of linguistic structure?  It was pointed out
in our first fecture that change of vocabulary, while it is the
most legitimate and inevitable of any that a language undergoes, is also the least penetrating, touching most lightly
the essential character of speech as the instrument of
thought. And we saw later (p. 83) how such words as




140            RECENT MODES OF GROWTH             [LEC.
photograph and telegraph are brought in and naturalized,
fitted with all the inflectional apparatus which the language
possesses, without any further consequences. Such are
mere additions to speech, which may affect the sum and
aggregate value of its resources of expression, often to a
considerable extent, without modifying its organism, or altering its grammatical form, its apprehension of relations and
command of the means of signifying them.  And yet, the
same circumstances which lead to the great and rapid development of a vocabulary-especially where it takes place out
of native resources, and in a less conscious and artificial way
-may have an indirect effect upon grammatical development also; where so much change is going on, so much
that is new coming into use, the influence will naturally be
felt in some measure in every part of the language.  Hints
of such a possibility are discoverable even in the modern
history of our own speech: graph, for example, has been
brought in as the final member of so many new compounds
that it almost presents itself to the consciousness of English
speakers as a formative element, having a given office, and
so constituting a part of the apparatus of English derivation;
while ism, though of ultimate Greek origin, and coining to
us through the French, has become a thoroughly English
suffix, admitting of the most familiar and extended application in forming new  words.  So distinct, indeed, is our
apprehension of the specific value of the ending ism that we
are able to cut it off and make an independent word of it,
talking of a person's isrms, or of his favourite ism-as we also
speak, less familiarly, of ana,'personal reminiscence and
anecdote,' or, in a  half-humorous way, of the ologies,'branches of learned study.'
We cannot, perhaps, better illustrate this subject of the
modes of linguistic change as determined in their respective
degree of operation by the influence of circumstances, than
by briefly examining the way in which our own speech is
now.adapting itself to the growing needs of its speakers.
The call upon it for increase of expressiveness during the
past century and at the present time has been and is hardly
less than would have been that upon the dialect of our




IV.]         MI THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.             141
imagined Polynesians in their new Icelandic home. Doubt.
less there was never before in the history of the world a
time when men were accumulating with such rapidity know.
ledge of the past history and present constitution of the
whole universe of created things-knowledge which is not,
it is true, necessarily wisdom or virtue, but which can and
ought to turn to both. A part, now, of this new knowledge
-and a part of the highest importance to the general community-is such as calls for no change whatever in language,
because it consists only in the better understanding of things
long since observed and named. However much astronomy
and physics may teach us respecting the sun and the planets,
we continue to call them as of old; the words heat, cold,
light, green, blue, red stand their ground in general use, notwithstanding the new vibratory theories, and the wonderful
discoveries lately made in the spectrum of colours; pudding.
stone is pudding-stone, and trap is trap, now as before the
geologist had explained the origin of either; substances still
fall to the earth and rise andfloat in the air, even after the
discovery of gravitation; rubbed amber and the loadstone
attract, as they did ere men had heard of electricity and
magnetism as. cosmical forces. There is, and evidently in
the nature of the case can be, no limit to the extent to which
a language may thus become impregnated with clearer knowledge and deeper meaning; and it has been already pointed
out (p. 21) that the speech of different individuals at the
same period may vary to almost any degree in the implication of these qualities, not less than the speech of the general
community at different periods. But in great part, also, the
modern additions to knowledge have been of such a sort as
to demand the provision of a store of new signs: they have
included an immense number of new particulars, things
before unobserved or confounded with others under the same
names, but which, being made the subject of distinct conceptions, have come to require specific appellations, that men
might communicate with one another respecting them.
Even this want has in some measure been filled without
external change of the language, by the internal development
of its resources, as illustrated in the preceding lecture, by the




142            RECENT MODES OF GROWTH             [LEC).
application of a not inconsiderable number of old words to
new uses.  Whenever any branch of knowledge, any art or
science, either originates or is extended and perfected, the
natural impulse is always to subserve its new uses with our
old phraseology. The new classifications, substances, processes, products are not so unlike those already familiar to
us that they may not be largely called by the same names,
without fear of obscurity cr error. Every technical vocabulary is thus made up to no small extent of the terms of
common life, more precisely or more pregnantly used. The
botanist talks of leaves and flowers; but in either term he
includes some things that the common man would exclude,
and the contrary.   Current, oonductor, induction, in the
mouth of the electrician, mean things of which he who
knows nothing of physics has no conception.  Many a man
who is aware that cohere means'stick together' would be at
a loss to distinguish cohesion from adhesion. Atom, base, acid,
salt, affinity, reaction, are but instances of the words innumerable to which the chemist has given a new and special
significance. In fact, the whole apparatus of common speech,
as applied to the more definite and sharply distinguished uses
of science, undergoes a kind of working-over and adaptation,
which is of every degree, from such a conscious and artificial
application as that of the word salt, used to express a large
class of chemical compounds regarded as analogous with the
substance formerly called by that name, down to such
simple limitation or distincter apprehension of the true force
of a term as is hardly separable from that change of implication without change of identity which we have illustrated
above, by reference to the words sun, heat, rise andfall, etc.
The mode of linguistic growth which we are now considering
does, indeed, shade off into the former one, and is most
nearly akin with it, in nature and in necessity. No language
can possibly lose the capacity for it without losing its very
life; in some languages, as we shall see hereafter, it is compelled to do the whole work of linguistic adaptation, external
growth being a thing unknown.
In our own tongue, however, external growth, as repre.
sented by the formation of new derivatives, and new combin.




W.]           IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.               143
ations of existing materials, is not altogether extinct,
though reduced to a comparatively low grade of acti\ ity, and
restricted in sphere.  To its chief modes of action we have
already, in other connections, had occasion to refer.  It
consists mainly in what we have called the mobilization of
our words, the application to them  of those formati ve
elements which still remain to us w-ith capacity of living use.
and by which we produce both inflections and derivative
words, as we have need of them.  Increase of these our
means of internal development is all but impracticable. Our
most recent organically developed suffix is the adverbiai ending ly, which has been found above so valuable in illustrating
the general method of suffix-formation.  Yet not a few elements of Latin origin have won by degrees the right to play
an active part in the making of new English words: such
are the prefixes en, dis, re, the suffixes ment, ess, able, ous, ic,
ize, ism,.fy, and others; nor, as we have seen, is the possibility even of farther additions to the list totally cut off.
An instance of a rather artificial and abnormal extension of
formative apparatus was afforded us by the introduction of
the chemical terminology referred to in the last lecture (p.
122); the modern history of scientific nomenclature presents other similar cases; and the exigencies of common use,
directed by the custom and authority of the learned, may
yet cause some of these ingrafted elements to germinate
and flourish as integral parts of the general system of speech.
No such results are at all likely to follow from the combination and integration of elements of our own proper language which are now independent. Of composition, as a
means of enrichment of our vocabulary, we make at present
but a limited use: steamboat and railroad are familiar representatives of a class which, though not inconsiderable in
numbers, forms a far less proportion of the modern growth;r our tongue than in most others of its kindred.
Such of the needs of language-making as are not supplied
by us in the methods already noticed are satisfied by the
borrowing of words from other tongues; and this, as every
one knows, is an expedient to which excessive resort is had
in English.  Our dictionaries have been filled up with




144          INTRODUCTION INTO ENGLISH           [LECT.
thousands upon thousands of Greek and Latin words; and
thousands more, too purely technical as yet to be admitted
into the dictionaries, are current among certain classes of
our community. The circumstances, external and internal,
which give such prevalence among us to this mode of linguistic growth, are many and various. First among them,
we may refer to the scantiness of our formative apparatus,
and the indisposition to an extensive production of new compounds which characterizes our speech: these limitations to
the capacity of internal development compel a recurrence
to external wealth. Then, the combination into which our
originally Germanic dialect was forced, by pressure of historical conditions, with the Romanic tongue of the conquering Normans, while it brought immediately into general use
a host of terms of classical origin, opened the door for their
indefinite multiplication, by creating analogies to which
they could attach themselves, giving them such support in
popular usage as took away the strangeness of aspect which
they would else have had. Yet it is true that the words of
common life, those which every English-speaking child learns
first and continues to use oftenest, are overwhelmingly of
Anglo-Saxon origin, are Germanic: Latin and Greek derivatives come in abundantly with culture, learning, special
scientific training. And this explains in part the modern
preponderance of such derivatives. The knowledge which
they are introduced to represent is of a learned cast, not
interesting in its details the general community of English
speakers, nor accessible to them; belonging, rather, to a
special class, which feels itself more closely united by bonds
of community with like classes in other nations than with
the mass of its own countrymen. There is a fellowship, a
solidarity, among the chemists of Europe and America, for instance, which makes them name things on principles accepted
among themselves, and out of languages known alike to them
all, rather than out of the stores of expression, and in accordance with the usages, of their own vernaculars.  It is doubtful whether any language that ever existed could have made
provision healthily, from its own internal resources, for the
expression of that infinite number of new particulars which




IV.]          OF GREEK AND LATIN WORDS.             145
modern science has been pouring in of late upon the general
aggregate of knowledge.  Think, for example, of the perplexity of the naturalist who returns from an exploring tour
with a thousand new species of plants and animals, if he
were compelled to devise vernacular designations for them
all! And how useless the effort!  They will remain for
ever unknown to nineteen twentieths, perhaps, of those who
speak his speech, and if one or another of them should ever
become introduced to general knowledge, they would easily
enough acquire familiar names. No modern language, then,
whatever its superiority to the English in the capacity of
internal growth, attempts to fill such departments of expres
sion otherwise than by borrowing from the Latin and Greek,
happy in the possession of stores so rich, so accessible, and
so manageable, to draw upon.  The names of animal and
vegetable species, of their parts and specific differences, of
mineral elements and compounds, of processes and relations,
and so forth, are Latin or Latinic through the whole civilized
world.  If the German is more inclined to favour terms of
native growth, and for hydrogen, oxygen, acid, says "water-substance " (wasserstof), " sour-substance " (sauerstoft), " sourness," (sdure), and the like, it may be seriously doubted
whether the gain is of appreciable value. We have seen how
little the act of association which binds together idea and sign
is dependent upon the aid of etymological suggestiveness; and
the forcing of a great variety of new specific meanings in a
brief space of time upon the old material of a tongue may
make quite as much for confusion as for intelligibility ana
vividness of expression. It is comparatively easy for a community to provide out of its vernacular resources of speech
for that ordinary growth of knowledge, experience, and
wisdom which comes in the main by the working over of
conceptions already acquired and named, and only in lesser
degree by the apprehension of new particulars; but we have
only to rejoice that our language is by fortunate circumstances saved from a strain which the present conditions
of our culture would otherwise have put upon it, and which
is more severe than any living tongue has ever been obliged
to endu-e.
10




146        IMPORTATION OF FOREIGN WORDS,         [LECT,
But even things of the most common use and knowledge
come to bear with us designations of learned and artificial
make. A certain showy flower, introduced not very long
ago by learned intervention to the parterres of the wealthy,
but now found in every poor man's garden, and almost as
familiar as the sun-flower or the rose, is known only by the
name dahlia, given it by its botanical describer in honour of
an earlier botanist, Dahl.  The telegraph, a scientific device,
keeps its foreign scientific title, not in our own country only,
but all over the globe, although it has become an institution
almost as universal and indispensable as the post. A substance over whose discovery and application no small part of
our community has gone wild within the past few years, has
not retained its honest English appellation of rock oil,
or mineral oil, but has accepted from the learned the equivalent Latin name petroleum, and is so called by millions who
have no knowledge whatever of the derivation and meaning
of the term.  The influence of the learned class in the pro.
cess of English names-giving has been for many centuries a
growing one, and has now become greatly predominant; and
with it has grown, somewhat unduly, the introduction of
classic word and phrase, to supplement, or even to replace,
native English expression. There is a pedantically learned
style which founds itself on the Latin dictionary rather than
the English, and discourses in a manner half unintelligible
except to the classically educated: but this is only the fool.
ish exaggeration of a tendency which has become by degrees
an integral part of English speech. To draw in like manner
upon the resources of any other tongue (as, for instance,
upon the German) would be a fault of a very different character - a pure impossibility, an intolerable affectation,
because unsupported by anything in the previous usages of
our mother-tongue.
We see, then, that the most obvious and striking peculi.
arity of English linguistic growth, the wholesale Importation
of foreign terms, is one by which it differs only in degree
from other linguistic growth, ancient and modern, and that
this degree of difference is explained by the circumstances
of the case-the learned character of much of the knowledge




IV.]                AD ITS CAUSES.                  147
denmanding representation, the sluggishness of the native
processes of word-formation, and the presence of numerous
words of classic origin in our familiar speech; all which
circumstances have begotten and fostered a habit of resorting
more and more for the supply of new needs to the accessible
and abundant stores of classical expression. The determining
causes are wholly historical. The inaptness for internal development, the aptness to borrow, which distinguish our
language from others of Germanic origin, are both mainly
traceable to the Norman invasion.  In consequence of that
event, the Anglo-Saxon was for a time in danger of extinction, or of reduction to the rank of a vulgar patois.  Political
conditions, severing Anglo-Norman interests from those of
the continent, and originating a common English feeling in
the whole population, notwithstanding its diverse elements,
led to a fusion of Norman-French and Saxon-English, instead
of a displacement of the latter by the former: but, when the
new tongue came forth, it was found shorn of much of its
grammatical power, greatly altered in its forms and modes
of construction. The purity and directness of linguistic
tradition had been broken up; the conservative influence
exercised upon the foundation-language by the cultivated
class of its speakers had. been for a time destroyed, and
popular inaccuracies and corruptions allowed full sway; a
mode of speech was learned by considerable masses of a population to whose fathers it was strange and barbarous; the
rest had admitted to their daily and familiar use a host of
new words on which their old apparatus of inflection sat
strangely: and this was the result. So is it likely ever to
be, when the intermingling on nearly equal terms of races of
diverse speech issues in the elaboration, by mutual accommodation and compromise, of a new mixed dialect which all
shall learn and use alike.
We must be careful not to mistake the nature of the
obstacle which prevents the liberal increase of our vocabulary
by means of combination of old materials. It is wholly subjective, consisting in our habits and preferences. There is
hardly a compound formed in German, for example, whiLch
would not, if literally translated by an English compomud,
10 *




148          CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE         [LEOT.
be understood, and which we might not therefore imitate, if
intelligibility were all that we had to consult in our word.
making. But we are obliged also to have in view the prepossessions of the community; and this is not a thing which
they are used to and will approve. The whole process of
language-making and language-changing, in all its different
departments, is composed of single acts, performed by individuals; yet each act is determined, not alone by the needs
of the particular case, but also by the general usages of the
community as acting in and represented by the individual;
so that, in its initiation as well as its acceptance and ratification, it is virtually the act of the community, as truly conventional as if men held a meeting for its discussion and
decision.
We have hitherto considered chiefly the effect of circumstances upon the growth of language, its enrichment with
the means of designating new conceptions and representing
new judgments. We have also briefly to examine their
influence upon linguistic decay, upon phonetic change and
grammatical corruption. These, as has been already suffi.
ciently pointed out, are the result of the defective tradition
of language; by carelessness in the acquisition of words, or
by inaccuracy in their reproduction, men change from
generation to generation the speech which they transmit.
It is evident, then, that everything which assists the accuracy
of linguistic tradition tends to preserve the phonetic and
grammatical structure of language from alteration. Where
speech is most unconsciously employed, with most exclusive
attention to the needs and conveniences of the moment, with
least regard to its inherited usages, there its changes are
rifest. Any introduction of the element of reflection is conservative in its effect. A people that think of their speech,
talk about it, observe and deduce its rules and usages, will
alter it but slowly. A tendency to do this sometimes forms
a part of a nation's peculiar character, being the result of
qualities and circumstances which it is well-nigh or quite
impossible to trace out and explain; but often it is called
forth, or fai oured and strengthened, by very obvious con.
ditions; by admiring imitation of the ways and words of




Tv.1           RATE OF LINGUISTIC DECAY.             140
them of old time; by the possession of a traditional litera.
ture; but, most of all, by a recorded literature, the habit of
writing, and a system of instruction. Culture and education
are the most powerful of all the forces which oppose lin.
guistic change. The smallest conceivable alterative influence
will emanate from one who has been trained to speak
correctly by a conscious effort, and who is accustomed to
write what he says almost as frequently and naturally as he
speaks it. Words, in their true form and independent
entity, are too distinctly present to his mind for him to take
part either in their fusion or mutilation. Hence the effect
of literary culture is to fix a. language in the condition in
which it happens to be found, to assure to it the continued
possession of the formative processes which are then active
in its development, but to check or altogether prevent its
acquisition of any others; to turn its prevailing habits into
unalterable laws; and to maintain its phonetic character
against anything but the most gradual and insidious change.
Thus far in the history of the world, this kind of conservative influence has usually been active only within the
limits of a class; a learned or priestly caste has become the
guardian of the national literature and the conservator of the
tongue in which it was written; while to the masses of the
people both have grown strange and unfamiliar. Deprived
of the popular support, the cultivated dialect has at once
begun to lose its vitality; for no language can remain alive
which is not answering all the infinitely varied needs of a
whole community, and adapting itself in every part to their
changes; it is stinted of its natural and necessary growth
when it is divorced from general use and made the exclusive
property of a class. Thus there come to exist among the
same people two separate tongues; the one an inheritance
from the past, becoming ever more stiff and constrained,
and employable only for special uses; the other the pro.
duction of the present, growing constantly more unlike the
other by the operation of the ordinary processes of linguistic
change; full of inaccuracies and corruptions, if we choose
to call them so, but also full of a healthy and vigorous life,
~llhich enables it finally to overthrow and replace the learned




150              ANCIENT AND MODERN               [LECT.
or sacred dialect, of which it is the offspring. Suth has been
the origin and such the fate of all the learned dialects which,
in various parts of the world, have been preserved as " dead
languages," for the purposes of learned communication, after
losing their character as the vernacular speech of a community: for instance, the ancient Egyptian, long kept up for
sacred uses, and written in the hieroglyphic signs, after both
language and letters had in popular use taken on another
form; the Zend, in the keeping of the ministers of Zoroaster's doctrine; the Sanskrit, even yet taught in the Brahmanic schools of India, amid the Babel of modern dialects,
its descendants; the Latin, the common language of the
educated through all Europe, for centuries during which
the later forms of Romanic speech, now the vehicles of a
culture superior to that of Greece and Rome, were mere
barbarous patois. Every dialect which is made the subject
of literary culture is liable to the fate of the Latin; aristocracy and exclusiveness tend to final overthrow, in language as in politics; the needs and interests of the many
are more important than those of the few, and must in the
end prevail. True linguistic conservatism consists in estab.
lishing an educated and virtuous democracy, in enlisting the
whole community, by means of a thorough and pervading
education, in the proper and healthy preservation of the
accepted usages of correct speech-and then in letting
whatever change must and will come take its course. There
is a purism which, while it seeks to maintain the integrity
of language, in effect stifles its growth: to be too fearful of
new words and phrases, new meanings, familiar and colloquial expressions, is little less fatal to the well-being of a
spoken tongue than to rush into the opposite extreme.
It is hardly needful to point out that these desirable conditions are much more nearly realized in the case of our
modern cultivated and literary languages than in those of
olden time, and that the former have, in all human proba.
bility, a destiny before them very different from that of the.
latter. In the present constitution of society, among the
enlightened nations of Europe and America, the forces con.
servative of the general purity of language have attained a




tv.]            LITERARY LANGUAGES.               151
development and energy to which only a distant approach
was made under the most favourable circumstances in
ancient times. The conscious and reflective users of speech,
the instructed and cultivated, the writers of their thoughts,
have become everywhere a class powerful in numbers as well
as dominant in influence.  Education, no longer confined
to the upper layer, more or less pervades the whole mass of
the people. Books are in every one's hands, assimilating
and establishing the written and spoken usages of all. That
form  of -the common speech in each country which has
enlisted'in its support the best minds, the sweetest and most
sonorous tongues, is ever gaining ground upon the others,
supplanting their usages, and promising to become and to
continue the true popular language.
In America, the influences we have now been considering
wear a somewhat peculiar form. On the one hand, the
educated class nowhere else embraces so large a portion of
the community, or has so vast a collective force; on the
other hand, and partly for this very reason, the highest and
best-educated class have less power here than in the less
democratic countries of the Old World: the low-toned party
newspaper is too much the type of the prevailing literary
influence by which the style of speech of our rising generation is moulding.  A  tendency to slang, to colloquial
inelegancies, and even vulgarities, is the besetting sin
against which we, as Americans, have especially to guard and
to struggle. To attain that thorough democracy which is
the best life and vigour of language, to keep our English
speech vivid with the thought and feeling of a whole people,
we should not bring down the tone and style of the highest,
nor average those of all classes; we should rather lift up the
lower to the level of the higher.
Our review of the causes which determine the respective
part played by the different processes of linguistic growth,
and the rate at which they severally act, is far from being
exhaustive. To treat the subject with thoroughness -would
req tire a treatise. Parts of it are of extreme subtlety and
difficulty. Our attention has been directed almost solely to
external historical circumstances,'those of which the effect




152        OTHER INFLUENCES AFFECTING THE        [LECT,
is most easily traced. We have but hinted here and there
at the more recondite and most potent influences which are
deep-seated in the individual character of different tongues
and the qualities of the people who speak them. That
complex and intricate combination of native capacities and
dispositions, acquired and inherited habits, and guiding
circumstances, of which, in each individual community, the
form and development of the common speech is a product, is
in no two communities the same, and everywhere requires a
special and detailed study in order to its comprehension.
Ethnologists are obliged, in the main, to take the differences
of national character as ultimate facts, content with setting
them clearly forth, not claiming to explain them; and a like
necessity rests upon the linguist as regards linguistic differences: not only can he not account for the presence of
peculiarities of character which determine peculiarities of
speech, but even their analysis eludes his search; they
manifest themselves only in these special effects, and are not
otherwise demonstrable.  To ascribe the differences of language and linguistic growth directly to " physical causes," to
make them  dependent on "peculiarities of organization,"
whether cerebral, laryngal, or other, is wholly meaningless
and futile.  Language is not a physical product, but a
human institution, preserved, perpetuated, and changed, by
free human action. Nothing but education and habit limits
any man to the idiom in the possession of which he has grown
up; within the community of speakers of the same tongue
may readily be found persons with endowments as unlike, in
degree and kind, as those which characterize the average men
of distant and diverse races. Phvsical causes do, indeed,
affect language, but only in two ways: first, as they change
the circumstances to which men have to adapt their speech;
and second, as they alter men's nature and disposition.
Every physical cause requires to be transmuted into a motive
or a mental tendency, before it can affect the signs by which
we represent our mental acts.  It is universally conceded
that physical circumstances do produce a permanent effect
upon the characteristics of race, internal as well as external,
and so upon those, araong the rest, which govern linguistic




~V.:          RATE OF LINGUISTIC CHANGE.          153
development; but in what measure, at what rate, and
through what details of change, is as yet matter of the widest
diffe-ence of opinion and the liveliest controversy. There
are headlong materialists who pronounce man the slave and
sport of nature, guided and controlled by the external forces
amid which he exists, and who claim that his history may be
explained and foretold by means of a knowledge of those
forces; when as yet they have not found out even the A-BC of the modes in which human nature is moulded by its
surroundings.  These men have their counterparts also
among students of language. But, whatever may be hoped
from the future, it is certain that at present nothing of value
has been done toward showing how linguistic growth is
affected in i~t kind and rate by physical causes. There is no
human dialect which might not maintain itself essentially
unaltered in structure, though carried to climes very unlike
those in which it had grown up, and though employed by a
people whose culture and mode of life was rapidly varying;
emigration, often assume.d to be the chief and most powerful
cause of linguistic change, also often appears to exercise a
conservative influence. And, on the other hand, a language
may rapidly disintegrate, or undergo phonetic transformation, or vary the substance of its vocabulary, without moving from the region of its origin, or becoming the organ of
other conditions of human life. When linguistic scholars
can fully account for such facts as that the Icelandic is the
most antique in form of the idioms of its family, that the
Lithuanian has preserved more of the primitive apparatus of
Indo-European inflection than any other known tongue of
modern times, that the Armenian has become with difficulty
recognizable as an Iranian dialect, that the Melanesian,
African, and American languages are the most changeful of
human forms of speech-then, perhaps, they may claim to
comprehend the circumstances that regulate the growth of
language.
The variation of language in space, its change from
one region to another, is a not less obvious fact than its
variation in time, its change from one epoch to another.
The earth is filled wzrh almost numberless dialects, differing




154               OAUSES AFFECTING              [iLEd,
from one another in a greater or less degree, and sonle of
them, at least, we know by historical evidence to be descendants of a common original. This state of things finds its
ready and simple explanation in the principles which have
been already laid down; they will demand, therefore, but a
brief application and further illustration.
We have been speaking, when treating of the growth of
language, of vital processes, as going on in the body of
speech itself, like the process of fermentation in bread, or of
the displacement and replacement of tissues in an animal
organism. But we have been careful, at the same time, to
bear in mind that the word " process " was thus used only in
a figurative sensea  Every item of change which goes to
make up the growth of human speech is ultimately a result
of the conscious effort of' human beings. In language, the
atoms which compose the fermenting mass and the growing
tissue are not inert matter, acted on by laws of combination
and affinity, but intelligent creatures, themselves acting for
a purpose. A process of linguistic growth, then, is only the
collective effect, in a given direction, of the acts of a number
of separate individuals, guided by the preferences, and con.
trolled by the assent, of the community of which those individuals form a part. And upon the joint and reciprocal
action on language of the individual and the community
depend all the phenomena of dialectic separation and cozaence.
For, in the first place, it is evident that the infinite diversity of character and circumstance in the intelligent beings
who have language in charge must tend to infinite diversity
in their action and its products. Each independent mind,
working unrestrainedly according to its own impulses, would
impress upon the development of speech a somewhat different
history. It was shown almost at the beginning of our discussions (p. 22) that no two men speak exactly the same
tongue: of course, tie, they would not propagate the same.
Each has his own vocabulary, his own pet words and phrases,
his own deviations from the normal standard of pronunciation,
of construction, of grammar; the needs of eaca are in some
degree unlike those of others; his mind is somewhat differ.




tv.]           THE GROWTH OF DIALECTS.              155
ently inlpressed and guided by feelings ani experiences,
differen';ly swayed by the weight of existing analogies. Such
tendency to variation is, to be sure, within comparatively
narrow limits; individual speakers of English would not, if
left to their own devices, rush madly off toward a Choctaw
or Kamchatlan model of speech; yet its results are by no
means imperceptible or insignificant; it is like the variation
of the separate individuals of a species of plants or animals
in respect to traits of structure and disposition, which, however slow its progress, would finally, if suffered to accumu.
late its effects, break up the species into well-marked
varieties. Linguistic development is thus made up, as we
may fairly express it, of an infinity of divergent or centrifugal forces.
But, in the second place, there is not wanting an effective
centripetal force also, which holds all the others in check,
which resolves them, giving value to that part of each which
makes in a certain direction, and annulling the rest: this
centripetal force is the necessity of communication.  Man
is no soliloquist: he does not talk for his own diversion and
edification, but for converse with his fellows; and that would
not be language which one individual alone should under.
stand and be able to employ. Every one is, indeed, as we
have already seen, engaged in his way and measure in modifying language; but no one's action affects the general
speech, unless it is accepted by others, and ratified in their
use. Every sign which I utter, I utter by a voluntary effort
of my organs, over which my will has indefeasible control;
I may alter the sign as I please, and to any extent, even to
that of substituting for it some other wholly new sign; only,
if by so doing I shock the sense of those about me, or make
myself unintelligible to them, I defeat the very end for which
I speak at all. This is the consideration which restrains me
from arbitrariness and license in the modification of my
speech, and which makes me exert my individual influence
upon it only through and by the community of which I am
a member. If those who form one community do not talk
alike, and cannot understand one another, the fundamental
mad essential office of speech is not fulfilled. HIence, what



156               CAUSES AFFECTING              [LECt.
ever changes a language may undergo, they must all be
shared in by the whole community. The idiosyncrasies, the
sharp angles and jutting corners, of every man's idiom must
be worn off by attrition against those with which it comes in
contact in the ordinary intercourse of life, that the common
tongue may become a rounded unit. This does not imply
an absolute identity of dialect, down to the smallest details,
among all the constituent members of a community; within
certain limits-which, though not strictly definable, are
sufficiently distinct and coercive to answer their practical
purpose perfectly well-each one may be as original as he
pleases: he may push his oddity and obscurity to the very
verge of the whimsical and the incomprehensible-or even
beyond it, if he do not mind being misunderstood and
laughed at; if his sense of his own individuality be so exaggerated that he is a whole community, a world, to himself.
Nor must the word community, as used with reference to
language, be taken in a too restricted or definite sense. It
has various degrees of extension, and bounds within bounds:
the same person may belong to more than one community,
using in each a different idiom. For instance: I have, as
we may suppose, a kind of home dialect, containing a certain
proportion of baby-talk, and a larger of favourite colloquialisms, which would sound a little queerly, if they were not
unintelligible, to any one outside of my family circle; as an
artisan, pursuing a special branch of manufacture or trade,
or as one engaged in a particular profession, or study, or
department of art, I am a member of another community,
speaking a language to some extent peculiar, and which
would be understood neither by my wife and children nor
by the majority of speakers of English. Thus, I may have
dived deep into the mysteries of some scheme of transcendental philosophy, or searched and pondered the ultimate physical constitution of atoms; and, if I should discourse to a gen-eral audience of that which to me is full of
profoundest significance and interest, while one out of
twenty, perhaps, would fi',ow me with admiring apprecia.
tion, to the other nineteen I should seem an incomprehensi.
ble ranter.  But even as a general speaker of English,




IV.]           THE GROWTH OF DIALECTS.            157
qualified to me t and converse intelligently with others who
claim the same title, upon matters of import to us all, I
may have my speech marked more or less strongly with
local or personal peculiarities; it may exhibit unusual tones
of utterance, or unusual turns of phrase, which, if I would
be readily and thoroughly understood, I must endeavour to
avoid. Now all these differences of speech, limited as their
range may be, are in their essential nature dialectic; the
distinction between such idioms, as we may properly style
them, and well-marked dialects, or related but independent
languages, is one, not of kind, but only of degree. For I
also possess a considerable portion of my language in common with the Netherlander, the German, and the Swede, to
say nothing of my remoter relations, the Russian, the Persian, and the Hindu; and if, in talking with any one of
them, I could only manage to leave out of my conversation
such words as belong to my dialect alone, and moreover, not
to pronounce the rest with such a local peculiarity of tone,
nor give them such special shades of meaning, he and I
might get along together famously, each of us understanding
all the other said. I can, indeed, make calculations and
compose mathematical formulas with him all day long; or, if
we are chemists, we can compare our views as to the constitution of all substances, organic and inorganic, to our mutual edification; since, as regards their mathematical and
chemical language, their systems of notation and nomenclature, all who share European civilization form but a single
community.
There is room, then, for all that diversity which was shown
in our first lecture to belong to the speech of different individuals and different classes in the same community, along
with that general correspondence which makes them speakers
of the same language. The influence of community works
in various degrees, and within various limits, according to
the nature and extent of the community by which it is
exercised. The whim of a child and the assent of its
parents may make a change in the family idiom; the consent of all the artisans in a certain branch of mechanical
labour is enough to give a new term the right to stand in




158                CAUSES AFFECTING              [LECT.
their tec. mnical vocabulary; the majority of good writers and
speakers of English is the only authority which can make
a word good English in the part of our tongue that we all
alike use and value; while all the learned of Europe must
loin together, in order to alter the notation of a number, or
the symbol of a chemical element. But the principle is
everywhere the same: as mutual intelligibility is the bond
which makes the unity of a language, so the necessity of
mutual intelligibility is the power which preserves and perpetuates that unity.
If communication is thus the assimilating force which
averages and harmonizes the effects of discordant individual
action on language, keeping it, notwithstanding its incessant
changes, the same to all the members of the same community,
then it is clear that everything which narrows communication, and tends to the isolation of conimunities, favours the
separation of a language into dialects; while all that extends
communication, and strengthens the ties which bind together
the parts of a community, tends to preserve the homogeneity"
of speech.  Suppose a race, occupying a certain tract of
country, to possess a single tongue, which all understand
and use alike: then, so long as the race is confined within
narrow limits, however rapidly its language may yield to the
irresistible forces which produce linguistic growth, all will
learn from each, and each from all; and, from generation to
generation, every man will understand his neighbour, whatever difficulty he might find in conversing with the spirit of
his great-grandfather, or some yet remoter ancestor.  But if
the race grows in numbers, spreading itself over region after
region, sending out colonies to distant lands, its uniformity
of speech is exposed to serious danger, and can only be saved
by specially favouring circumstances and conditiqns.  And
these conditions are yet more exclusively of an external
character than those which, as we lately saw, determine the
mode and rate of linguistic change in general: they consist
mainly in the kind and degree of culture enjoyed and the
effects which this naturally produces. In a low state of.
civilization, the maintenance of community over a wide,
extent of country is altogether impracticable; the tendency




V.-]           THE GROWTH OF DIALECTS.             159
to segregation is paramount; local and clannish feeling
prevails, stifling the growth of any wider and nobler
sense of national unity and common interests; each little
tribe or section is jealous of and dreads the rest; the
struggle for existence arrays them in hostility against each
other; or, at the best, the means of constant and thorough
communication among individuals of the different parts of
the country is wanting, along with the feelings which should
impel to it. Thus all the diversifying tendencies are left to
run their course unchecked;'varieties of circumstance and
experience, the subtler and more indirect influences of
climate and mode of life, the yet more undefinable agencies
which have their root in individual and national caprice,
gradually accumulate their discordant effects about separate
centres, and local varieties of speech arise, which grow into
dialects, and these into distinct and, finally, widely dissimilar
languages. The rate at which this separation will go on
depends, of course, in no small degree, upon the genera.
rate of change of the common speech; as the dialects can
only become different by growing apart, a sluggishness of
growth will keep them longer together-and that, not by its
direct operation alone, but also by giving the weak forces of
an imperfect and scanty communication opportunity to work
more effectively in counteraction of the others. Thus all
the influences which have already been referred to as restricting the variation of a language from generation to
generation are, as such, equally eff6ctive in checking its
variation from portion to portion of a people. But the
most important of them also contribute to the same result
in another way, by directly strengthening and extending the
bonds of community. Culture and enlightenment give a
wonderful cohesive force; they render possible a wide political unity, maintenance of the same institutions, government under the same laws; they facilitate community of
memories and traditions, and foster national feeling; they
create the wants and tastes which lead the people of differ.
ent regions to mix.-with and aid' one another, and they
furnish the means of ready and frequent intercourse: all of
which make powerfully for linguistic unity also.  A tram




160             CAUSES BRINGING ABOUT            [LECT.
ditional literature, sacred or heroic, tends effectively in the
same direction. But of more account than all is a written
literature, and an organized and pervading system of instruction, whereby the same expressions for thought, feeling, and experience are set as models before the eyes of all,
and the most far-reaching and effective style of linguistic
communication is established.
Moreover, that same necessity of mutual understanding
which makes and preserves the identity of language throughout a community has power also to bring forth identity out
of diversity. No necessary and indissoluble tie binds any
human being to his own personal and local peculiarities of
idiom, or even to his mother-tongue; habit and convenience
alone make them his; he is ever ready to give them up for
others, when circumstances make it worth his while to do so.
The coarse and broad-mouthed rustic whom the force of
inborn character and talent brings up to a position among
cultivated men, wears off the rudeness of his native dialect,
and learns to speak as correctly and elegantly, perhaps, as
one who has been trained from his birth after the best
models. Those who come up from among the dialects of
every part of Britain to seek their fortune in the metropolis
acquire some one of the forms of English speech which
flourish there; and, even if they themselves are unable ever
to rid themselves wholly of provincialisms, their children
may grow up as thorough cockneys as if their families had
never lived out of hearing of Bow bells. Any one of us who
goes to a foreign land and settles there, identifying himself
with a community of strange speech, learns to talk with
them, as well as his previously formed habits will let him,
and between his descendants and theirs there will be no
difference of language, however unlike they' may be in hue
and feature. If adventurers of various race and tongue
combine themselves together in a colony and take up their
abode in some wild country, their speech at once begins to
undergo a process of assJ.milation, which sooner or later
makes it one and homogeneous: how rapidly this end shall
be attained, and whether some one element shall absorb the
rest, or whether all shall contribute equallys to the resauiting




IV.]           ASSIMILATION OF DIALECTS.            161
dialect, must be determined by the special circumstances of
the case. Of the multitudes of Germans whom emigration
brings to our shores, some establish themselves together in
considerable numbers: they cover with their settlements a
tract in the West, or fill a quarter in some of our large
towns and cities. They form, then, a kind of community of
their own, in the midst of the greater community which
surrounds them, having numerous points of contact with
the latter, but not absorbed into its structure: there are
enough speakers of English among them to furnish all the
means of communication with the world about them which
they need; they are proud of their German nationality and
cling to it; they have their own schools, papers, books,
preachers —and their language, though sure to yield finally
to the assimilating influences which surround it, may be
kept up, possibly, for generations. So also with a crowd of
Irish, clustered together in a village or suburb, breeding in
and in, deriving their scanty instruction from special schools
under priestly care: their characteristic brogue and other
peculiarities of word and phrase may have an indefinite lease
of life. But, on the other hand, families of foreign nationality scattered in less numbers among us can make no
effective resistance to the force which tends to identify them
thoroughly with the community of English speakers, and
their language is soon given up for ours.
There is evidently no limit to the scale upon' which such
fusion and assimilation of speech may go on. The same
causes which lead an individual, or family, or group of families, to learn and use another tongue than that which they
themselves or their fathers have been accustomed to speak,
may be by historical circumstances made operative throughout a whole class, or over a whole region. When two communities are combined into one, there comes to be but one
language where before there were two. A multiplication and
strengthening of the ties which bind together the different
sections of one people tends directly toward the effacement
of already existing varieties of dialect. and the production of
linguistic uniformity.
Such effacement alnd assimilation of dialectic varieties, not
11




162                  HISTORY OF THE             [LECOT
less than dissimilation and the formation of new dialects, are
all the time going on in human communities, according as
conditions favour the one or the other class of effects; and a
due consideration of both is necessary, if we would comprehend the history of any tongue, or family of tongues.  Let
us look at one or two examples, which shall serve to illustrate their joint and mutual workings, and to set forth
more clearly the truth of the principles we have laid down.
We will consider first the history of that one among the
prominent literary languages of the present day which has
most recently attained its position, namely the German.
From the earliest dawn of history, Germany has been filled
with a multitude of more or less discordant dialects, each
occupying its own limited territory, and no one of them
better entitled than any other to set itself up as the norm
of correct German speech.  How far back their separation
goes, it is impossible to tell; whence, when, and how the
first Germanic tribe entered central Europe, that its tongue
might become there the mother of so many languages, crowd.
ing Germany and Scandinavia, and spreading, through England, even to the shores and prairies of a new world; or
whether the beginnings of dialectic division were made before
the entrance of the race into its present seats-these are
secrets which will never be fully disclosed. There were
sweeping changes in the range and character of the Germanic dialects during those ages of migration and strife
when Germany and Rome were carrying on their life and
death struggle. Whole branches of the German race, among
them some of the most renowned and mighty, as the Goths
and Vandals, wholly lost their existence as separate communities, being scattered and absorbed into other communities, and their languages also ceased to exist. Leagues
and migrations, intestine struggles and foreign conquests,
produced fusions and absorptions, extensions, contractions,
and extinctions, in manifold variety; but without any
tendency to a general unity: and three centuries and a half
ago, when the modern German first put forth its claim to
s;and as the common language of Germany, there was in
that country the same Babel of discordant speech as at the




tV.]               GERMAN LANGUAGE.                  163
Christian era. Since the introduction of Christianity and
the beginnings of civilization, more than one of the HighGerman dialects, as they are called, the dialects of central
and southern Germany, had been for a season the subject
of literary culture. This was the case with the idioms, in
succession, of the Alemannic, Frankish, and Bavarian divi.
sions of the race, between the seventh and the thirteenth
centuries; then, for a time, the Swabian dialect gained the
preeminence, and in it was produced a rich and noble legendary literature, containing precious memorials of national
heroic story, and still studied and valued wherever the German tongue is spoken. Here was a promising beginning for
a truly national language, but the conditions of the times
were not yet such as to give the movement lasting and assured
success. Three centuries later began the grand national up.
heaval of the Reformation. The writings of Luther, multi.
plied and armed with a hundred-fold force by the new art of
printing, penetrated to all parts of the land, and to nearly
all ranks and classes of the people, awakening everywhere a
vivid enthusiasm. The language he used was not the local
dialect of a district, but one which had already a better
claim than any other to the character of a general German
language: it was the court and official speech of the principal
kingdoms of central and southern Germany, made up of
Swabian, Austrian, and other dialectic elements.* To a language so accredited, the internal impulse of the religious
excitement and the political revolutions accompanying it,
and the external influence of the press, which brought its
literature, and especially Luther's translation of the Bible,
into every reading family, were enough to give a common
currency, a general value. It was set before the eyes of the
whole nation as the most cultivated form of German speech;
it was acknowledged and accepted as the dialect of highest
rank, the only fitting organ of communication among the
educated and refined. From that time to the present, its
influence and power have gone on increasing. It is the
vehicle of literature and instruction everywhere. Whatever
may be the speech of the lower classes in any section, the
See Schleicher, Deutsche Sprawhe, p. 107 seq.
11 *




164             THE GERMAN LANGUAGE.            [LECT,
educated, those who make up good society, speak the
literary German; their children are trained in it; nothing
else is written. The popular dialects are still as numerous
as ever, because education is not pervading and thorough
enough to extirpate them; and their existence may be pro.
longed for an indefinite period; but the literary language
exercises a powerfully repressing and assimilating effect
upon them all; it has lessened their rank and lowered their
character, by withdrawing from them in great measure the
countenance and aid of the cultivated; it has leavened them
all with its material and its usages; and it may finally
succeed in crowding them altogether out of use. Its sway
extends just as far as the external influences which established it reach: it is not confined to the territory occupied
by the High-German dialects, its nearest kindred; the
people of the northern provinces also, speaking tongues of
Low-G(erman descent, which are much more nearly related
with the Netherlandish, or even with the English, are drawn
by the ties of political, social, and religious community with
the rest of Germany to accept and use it. While, on the
other hand, political independence, aided by diversity of
social and religious usages, has given a separate existence
as a literary language to the Dutch or Netherlandish, and
yet more notably to the English, descendants of dialects
originally undistinguished among the crowd of Low-German
idioms which lined the shores of the North Sea.
The history of most other literary languages is of the
same character with that which we have just been examining. Each was, at the outset, one out of a number of kindred but more or less diverse forms of speech, and the
predominance which it came to gain over them was the result, not of its inherent merits as an instrument of thought
and means of communication, but of outward circumstances,
which made its usages worth the acquisition of a wider and
wider community. Thus the parent language of the modern
French was the vernacular speech of only a small part of
the population of France; and it long had a rival, and
almost a superior, in the early and highly cultivated dialect
of southern France, the Provencal, or lanq/ue d'oc; nor,




IV.]             THE LATIN LANGUAGE.                 165
if the kingdom of Toulouse had maintained itself, woUJd the
latter ever have yielded to the former: but the sceptre of
political supremacy over all France passed into the keep.
ing of the northern provinces, and their speech became
the rule of good usage throughout the land, while the
langue d'oc lost by degrees its character as a cultivated
dialect, and survives only in rude and insignificant provincial
patois.  The Italian was, in like manner, the popular idiom
only of Tuscany, one of the innumerable local dialects which
crowd and jostle one another between the Alps and Sicily,
and its currency among the educated classes of the whole
peninsula is the effect of literary influence and of instruction.
An illustration of a somewhat different character is
afforded us by the history of the Latin, a history in many
respects more remarkable than that of any other language
which has ever existed.  This conquering tongue-whose
descendants now occupy so large and fair a part of Europe,
and, along with their half-sister, the English, fill nearly all
the New World, and numerous scattered tracts, coasts, and
islands, on every continent and in every ocean, while its
material has leavened and enriched the speech of all enlightened nations-was the vernacular idiom, not twenty-five
centuries ago, of a little isolated district in middle Italy, a
region which, on any map of the world not drawn upon a
scale truly gigantic, one might easily cover with the end of a
finger.  How and when it came there, we know not; but it
was one of a group of related dialects, descendants and joint
representatives of an older tongue, spoken by the first
immigrants, which had grown apart by the effect of the usual
dissimilating processes. Remains of at least two of these
sister dialects, the Oscan and the Umbrian, are still left in
existence, to exercise the ingenuity of the learned, and to
illustrate the ante-historic period of Italic speech. The
Latin was pressed on the north by the Etruscan, and threatened from the south by the Greek, languages of much more
powerful races, and the latter of them possessing a higher
intrinsic character, and an infinitely superior cultivation: no
one could then have dared to guess that.its after career




166               HISTORY OF THE                [LOT.
would be so much more conspicuous than theirs. Its spread
began with the extension of Roman dominion, and was the
plainest and most unequivocal sign of the thorough and
penetrating nature of that dominion. Not content with the
loose and nominal sway which the Persian sovereign exer.
cised over the heterogeneous parts of his vast empire, or the
yet laxer authority of the modern Mongol rulers over
their wider conquests, the Romans infused, as it were, a new
organic life into the vast body corporate of which they were
the head, and made their influence felt through its every
nerve and fibre. Italy they first subjected and Romanized.
The yoke they imposed, and riveted by their military colonies,
their laws and institutions, their culture, and their all-penetrating administration, was a bond of community against
which no other proved able to maintain itself; all the languages of the peninsula, from the Gaulish of the north to
the Greek of the extreme south, gave way by degrees before
the tongue of the conquering city, and Italy became a
country of one uniform  speech.  And yet not wholly
uniform: relics of the ancient languages maintained themselves for a long time in certain more inaccessible districts,
and their influence was doubtless to be distinctly seen in the
varying local dialects of the different parts of the peninsula
-as, indeed, traces of it are even now discoverable there.
The common speech of Italy, too, setting aside these dialectic distinctions, was not the pure polished Latin of Cicero
and Virgil, but a ruder idiom, containing already the germs
of many of the changes exhibited by the modern Italian and
the other Romanic tongues. The same process of conquest
and incorporation into the Roman community was carried
farther, upon a grand and surprising scale, into the other
countries of Europe. The Celts of Gaul, the Celts and
Iberians of Spain, gave up their own languages and adopted
that of their rulers and civilizers, not less completely than
have the Celts of Ireland, within the last few centuries,
exchanged their Irish speech for English: of Celtic words
and usages only scanty and unimportant traces are to be
found in the modern French and Spanish. The same fate
threatened Germany, had not her brave and hardy tribes




Il.]                LATIN LANGUAGE.                 167
offered too stubborn a resistance to the already waning
forces of the empire; and Britain also, had not its remote
situation and inferior value as a province caused the Roman
lhold upon it to be weak, and soon abandoned. Less considerable'tracts of south-eastern Europe, stretching from the
northern border of Italy to near the mouth of the Danube,
yielded to the same influence: subdued by the arms, colo.
nized from the population, organized by the policy, civilized
by the culture, of the great city, they learned also to talk
her language, forgetting their own. Thus arose the great
and important group of the Romanic languages, as they are
called; namely, the Italian, the French, the Spanish and
Portuguese, the Rhmeto-Romanic of southern Switzerland, and
the Wallachian-each including a host of varying dialects,
all lineal descendants of the Latin, all spoken by populations
only in small part of Latin race.
We must not suppose, however, that a pure and classical
Latin was ex er the popular dialect of this wide-extended
region of Europe, any more than of Ttaly after its first
Romanization.  The same counteracting causes, acting on a
grander scale and with an intensified force, prevented correctness and homogeneity of speech. The populace got their
Latin rather from the army and its followers, the colonists
and low officials, than from educated Romans and the works
of great authors. Doubtless there was not at first such a
~difference between the dialect of the highest and of the
lowest that they could not understand one another. But,
whatever it was, it rapidly became wider: while study and
the imitation of unchanging models kept the scholars and
ecclesiastics in possession of the classical Latin, only a little
barbarized by the irresistible intrusion into it of words and
constructions borrowed from vernacular use, the language of
the masses grew rapidly away from it, breaking up at the
same time into those innumerable local forms to whose exist.
ence we have already referred. There was no conserving and
assimilating influence at work among the millions who had
taken for their own the language of Rome, capable either of
binding them fast to its established usages or of keeping
their lines of linguistic growth paralleL Special disturbing




168           DESCENDANTS OF THE LATIN.         [LECT,
forces came in here and there. Incursions and conquests of
German tribes brought an element of Germanic speech into
the tongues alike of Spain, France, and Italy. Centuries of
Saracen domination engrafted upon the Spanish language a
notable store of words of Arabic derivation.  When, at
length, the dark ages of European history were over, and
knowledge and culture were to be taken out of the exclusive
custody of the few, and made the wealth and blessing of the
many, the Latin was a dead language, much too far removed
from popular wants and sympathies to be able to serve the
needs of the new nations. Hence the rise in each separate
country, at not far from the same time, of a new national
tongue, to be the instrument and expression of the national
culture. All Romanized Europe was in the condition already
described as that of Germany prior to the advancement of the
modern German to its present position; a chaos of varying
dialects was there; and, in every case, external historical
circumstances determined which of them should attain a
higher value, and should subject and absorb the rest.
In all this alternate and repeated divergence and converge
ence of dialects there is evidently nothing which needs to be
looked upon as mysterious, or even puzzling. Such has been
the history of language from the beginning, and in all parts
of the earth. We need only the tendency of individual
language to vary, and the effect of community to check,
limit, and even reverse this tendency, in order to explain
every case that arises: the peculiar conditions of each case
must decide whether their joint action shall, on the whole,
make for homogeneity or for diversity of speech; and the
result, in kind and in degree, will vary according to the sum
of the causes which produced it; as the resultant motion, in
rate and direction, combines and represents all the forces,
however various and conflicting, of whose united action it is
the effect.
Thus, as has been already pointed out, when there takes
place a fusion of two communities, larger or smalier, of
varying speech, no general law can determine what shall be
the resulting dialect. When the Romans conquered Gaul,
although forming only a minority of the populaticn, they




rv.]           TRANSFER OF LANGUAGES.             169
almost totally obliterated the Gaulish speech, putting the
Latin in its place, for they brought with them culture and
polity, art and science, learning and letters: they made it
better worth while for the Celts to learn Latin than to
adhere to their own ancient idiom.  When, however, the
Germanic Franks, a few centuries later, conquered in theit
turn the now Latiuized Gaul, and turned it into a kingdom
of France, they adopted the language of their more numerous and more cultivated subjects, only adding a small percentage of Germanic words to its vocabulary, and perhaps
contributing an appreciable influence toward hastening the
decay, already well in progress, of the Latin grammatical
system. The same thing happened once more, when the
Scandinavian Northmen, representing another branch of the
Germanic family, after extorting from the beaten and trembling monarchs of France the cession of one of her fairest
provinces, became the not less formidable and dreaded Normans. Although placed in seemingly favourable circumstances for conserving their linguistic independence, crowded
together as they were within comparatively narrow bounds,
and making on their own ground, of which they were
absolute masters, the majority of the population, they yet
could not resist the powerful assimilating influences which
pressed them, a horde of uncouth and unlearned barbarians,
on every side. Within a wonderfully short time, their
Norse tongue had altogether gone out of use, leaving traces
only in a few geographical names: along with French manners, French learning, and French polity, they had implicitly
adopted also French speech. Hardly was this conversion
accomplished, when they set forth to propagate their new
linguistic faith in a country occupied by dialects akin with
that which they had recently forsworn. The Angles and
Saxons, Germanic tribes, had meantime finished the task,
only begun by the Romans, of extirpating upon the largest
and best part of British ground the old Celtic speech. They
had done it in a somewhat different way, by sheer brute
force, by destroying, enslaving, or driving out the native
popLlation, and filling all but the most inaccessible regions
of the island with their own ferocious tribesmen. Iene8




170                 HISTORY OF TEE              [tCHT
the wholly insignificant remains of Celtic matirtal to be
found among the ordinary stores of expression of our English
tongue. Christianity and civilization found the invaders in
their new home, and an Anglo-Saxon literature grew up,
which, had circumstances continued favourable, might have
aided national unity of government, institutions, and culture
to assimilate the varying dialects of the country, producing
a national language not inferior in wealth and polish to our
present speech. But they who take the sword shall perish
by the sword:- upon the Anglo-Saxons were wreaked the
woes they had themselves earlier brought upon the Celts.
Danish and Norse invasions, during a long period, bitterly
vexed and weakened the Saxon state, and it finally sank
irrecoverably under the Norman conquest. This time, the
collision of two diverse languages, upborne by a nearly
equal civilization-the partial superiority of that of the
Normans being more than counterbalanced by their inferiority in numbers-under the government of political
circumstances already explained, produced a result different
from any which we have thus far had occasion to notice —
namely, a truly composite language, drawing it, material and
its strength in so nearly equal part from the two sources
that scholars are able to dispute whether the modern English
is more Saxon or more French. Into the details of the
combination we cannot now stay to enter, but must pass
on to note the later dialectic history of the language,
merely directing attention to the important and familiarly
known fact that its formative apparatus-whether consisting
in inflections, affixes of derivation, or connectives and relational words-along with the most common and indispensable
part of its vocabulary, remained almost purely Saxon, so
that it is to be accounted still a Germanic dialect in structure, although furnished with stores of expression in no
small part of Romanic origin.
The fusion of Saxon and Norman elements in English
speech did not reach in equal measure all parts of the land
or all classes of the people, nor did it by any means wipe
out previously existing dialectic differences, thus furnishing
a new and strictly homogeneous speech as a starting-point




RY.]               ENGLISH LANGUAGE.                 171
whence a new process of dialectic divergence should coin.
mence.  On tile contrary, Britain is still, like Germany,
only in a less degree, a country full of dialects, some of
whose peculiarities go back to the diversities of speech
among the tribes by whom the Anglo-Saxon conquest of the
island was achieved, thirteen hundred years ago, awhile the
rest are of every date of origin, from that remote period to
the present.  One or two of these dialects-especially the
Scottish and the Yorkshire-poetry and fiction have made
somewhat familiarly known to us; others are matters of
keen and curious interest to the student of language, their
testimony being hardly less essential than that of the Jiterary
dialect to his comprehension of the history of English
speech.
But it was impossible that, in the transfer of English to
the continent of America, these local dialects should maintain themselves intact; that could only have been the result
of a separate migration of parts of the local communities to
which they belonged, and of the continued maintenance of
their distinct identity in their new place of settlement.
Such was not the character of the movement which filled
this country with an English-speaking population. Old
lines of local division were effaced; new ties of community
were formed, embracing men of various province and rank.
It was not more inevitable that the languages of the various
nationalities which have contributed to our later population
should disappear, swallowed up in the predominant English,
than that the varying forms of English should disappear,
being assimilated to that one among them which was better
supported than the rest. Nor could it be doubtful which
was the predominant element, to which the others would
have to conform themselves. In any cultivated and lettered
community, the cultivated speech, the language of letters, is
the centrai point toward which all the rest gravitate, as they
are broken up and lose their local hold. And our first
settlers were in no small part from the instructed class, men
of high character, capacity, and culture. They brought with
them a written language and a rich literature; they read
and wrote; they established schools of every grade, and




172             THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE            [LE]T,
took care that each rising generation should not fall behind.its predecessor in learning. The basis, too, of equality of
rights and privileges on which they founded their society
added a powerful influence in favour of equality of speech.
As a natural and unavoidable consequence, then, of these
determining conditions, and not by reason of any virtue for
which we are to take credit to ourselves, the general language of America, through all sections of the country and
all orders of the population, became far more nearly homogeneous, and accordant with the correct standard of English
speech, than is the average language of England. And the
same influences which made it so have tended to keep it so:
the democratic character of our institutions, and the almost
universality of instruction among us, have done much to
maintain throughout our community an approximate uniformity of idiom. There was doubtless never a country
before, where, down to the very humblest classes of the
people, so many learned to read and spell out of the same
school-books, heard the same speakers, from platform, desk,
and pulpit, and read the same books and papers; where
there was such a surging to and fro of the population, such
a mixture and intimate intercourse of all ranks and of all
regions. In short, every form of communication is more
active and more far-reaching with us than ever elsewhere;
every assimilating influence has had unequalled freedom and
range of action. Hence, there was also never a case in
which so nearly the same language was spoken throughout
the whole mass of so vast a population as is the English now
in America.  Modern civilization, with the great states it
creates, and the wide and active intercourse among men to
which it prompts and for which it affords the needed facilities, is able to establish upon unoccupied soil, and then to
maintain there, community upon a scale of grandeur to
which ancient times could afford no parallel.
Nor have we failed to keep nearly even pace with our
British relations in the slow progressive development of the
common tongue: our close connection with the mothercountry, the community of culture which we have kept up
with her, our acknowledgment of her superior authority in




r.]                  IN AMERICA.                  17.
matters of learning and literature, have been able thus fai
to restrain our respective lines of linguistic growth from
notable divergence. Though we are sundered by an ocean,
there have been invisible ties enough between us to bind us
together into one community. Yet our concordance of
speech is not perfect: British purism finds fault with even
our higher styles of discourse, oral and written, as disfigured
by Americanisms, and in both the tone and the material of
colloquial talk the differences are, of course, much more
marked. We have preserved some older words, phrases,
and meanings which their modern use discards; we have
failed as yet to adopt certain others which have sprung up
among them since the separation; we have originated yet
others which they have not accepted and ratified. Upon
all these points we are, in the abstract, precisely as much in
the right as they; but the practical question is, which of
the two is the higher authority, whose approved usage shall
be the norm of correct English speaking. We have been
content hitherto to accept the inferior position, but it is not
likely that we shall always continue so. Our increasing
numbers and our growing independence of character and
culture will give us in our own estimation an equal right, at
the least, and we shall feel more and more unwilling to yield
implicitly to British precedent; so that the time may perhaps
come when the English language in America and the English
language in Britain will exhibit a noteworthy difference of
material, form, and usage. What we have to rely upon to
counteract this separating tendency. and annul its effect is
the predominating influence of the class of highest cultivation, as exerted especially through the medium of literature.
Literature is the most dignified, the most legitimate, and
the most powerful of the forces which effect the conservation
of language, and the one which acts most purely according
to its true merit, free from the adventitious aids and drawbacks of place and time. It is through her literature that
America has begun, and must go on, to win her right to
share in the elaboration of the English speech. Love and
admiration of the same master-works in poetry, oratory,
philosophy, and science has hitherto made one community




174            THE ENGLISH IN AMERICA.           [LECT,
of the two great divisions of speakers of English, and ought
to continue to unite them-and it will, we hope, do so: but
more or less completely, according as that portion of the
community which is most directly reached and effectively
guided by literature is allowed authority over the rest.
We are, however, by no means free from dialects among our
own population, although we may hope that they will long,
or always, continue to be restricted within narrow limits of
variation from the standard of correct speech, as they are at
present. The New Englander, the Westerner, the Southerner, even of the educated class, betrays his birth to a
skilled observer by the peculiarities of his language; and
the lower we descend in the social scale, the more marked
and prominent do these peculiarities become. There is
hardly a locality in the land, of greater or less extent, which
has not some local usages, of phrase or utterance, characterizing those whose provincialism has not been rubbed off by,
instruction or by intercourse with a wider public. There is
a certain degree of difference, too, of which we are all
conscious, between the written and the colloquial style:
there are words and phrases in good conversational use,
which would be called inelegant, and almost low, if met
with in books; there are words and phrases which we employ in composition, but which would seem forced and stilted
if applied in the ordinary dealings of life. This is far from
being a difference sufficient to mark the literary English as
another dialect than that of the people; yet it is the beginning of such a difference; it needs no change in kind, but
only a change in degree, to make it accord with the distinction between any literary language which history offers to
our knowledge and the less cultivated dialects which have
grown up in popular usage by its side, and by which it has
been finally overthrown and supplanted.
Nothing, then, as we see, can absolutely repress dialectic
growth; even the influences most powerfully conservative
of identity of language, working in the most effective
manner which human conditions have been found to admit,
can only succeed in indefinitely reducing its rate of progress.




IT.]           LANGUAGES AND DIALECTS.             175
It will be noticed that we have used the terms " dialect"
and " language " indifferently and interchangeably, in speaking of any given tongue; and it will also have been made
plain, I trust, by the foregoing exposition how vain would
be the attempt to establish a definite and essential distine.
tion between them, or give precision to any of the other
names which indicate the different degrees of diversity
amlonlg related tongues.  No form of speech, living or dead,
of which we have any knowledge, was not or is not a dialect,
in the' sense of being the idiom of a limited community,
amiaonlg other communities of kindred but somewhat discord.
ant idiom; none is not truly a language, in the sense that
it is the meanls of mutual intercourse of a distinct portion
of mankind, adapted'to their capacity and supplying their
needs.  The whole history of spoken language, in all climes
and all ages, is a series of varying and successive phases;
external circumstances, often accidental, give to some of these
phases a prominence and importance, a currency and permanence, to which others do not attain; and according to
their degree of importance we style them idiom, or patois,
or dialect, or language. To a very limited extent, natural
history feels the same difficulty in establishing the distinction between a " variety " and a " species: " and the difficulty
would be not less pervading and insurmountable in natural
than in linguistic science, if, as is the case in language, not
only the species, but even the genera and higher groups of
animals and plants were traceably descended from one
another or from common ancestors, and passed into each
other by insensible gradations. Transmutation of species in
the kingdom of speech is no hypothesis, but a patent fact,
one of the fundamental and determining principles of lin.
guistic study.




LECTURE V.
Erroneous views of the relations of dialects. Dialectic variety iinpliuz
original unity. Effect of cultivation on a language. Grouping of lan.
guages by relationship. Nearer and remoter relations of the English.
Constitution of the Indo-European family. Proof of its.unity. Impossibility of determining the place and time of its founders; their
culture and customs, inferred from their restored vocabulary.
IiAVING previously considered in some detail the various
modes of change in language-the processes of linguistic
life, as, by an allowable figure, we termed them —we went
on at our last interview to direct our attention to the circumstances and conditions which govern the working of those
processes, giving prominence to the one or the other of them,
and quickening or retarding their joint effects.  We then
proceeded to inquire into the manner in which the same
processes operate to divide any given form of speech, with
the lapse of time, into varying forms, or to convert a language into dialects. We passed in review the causes which
favour the development of dialectic differences, as well as
those which limit and oppose such development, and even
tend to bring uniformity out of diversity. They are, we
found, of two general kinds: the one, proceeding from individuals, and founded on the diversities of individual character and circumstance, tend to indefinite separation and
discordance; the other, acting in communities, and arising
from the necessity of mutual intelligence, the grand aim and
purpose of language, make for uniformity and assimilation,




V.]               DIALECTS NOT PRIMITIVE.                  177
sacrificing a merely personal to a more comprehensive unity,
merging the individual in the society of which he is a
member. Language is an institution founded in man's social
nature, wrought out for the satisfaction of his social wants;
and hence, while individuals are the sole ultimate agents in
the formation and modification of every word and meaning
of a word, it is still the community that makes and changes
its language. The one is the molecular force; the other, the
organic. Both, as we saw, are always at work, and the history
of human tongues is a record of their combined effects; but
the individual diversifying forces lie deeper down, are more
internal, more inherent in the universal use of speech, and
removed from the control of outward circumstances. Language, we may fairly say, tends toward diversity, but circumstances connected with its employment check, annul, and
even reverse this tendency, preserving unity, or producing
it where it did not before exist.
One or two recent writers upon language * have corm
mitted the very serious error of inverting the mutual relations of dialectic variety and uniformity of speech, thus turning topsy-turvy the whole history of linguistic development.
Unduly impressed by the career of modern cultivated dialects,
their effacement of existing dialectic differences and production of homogeneous speech throughout wide regions,
and failing to recognize the nature of the forces which have
made such a career possible, these authors affirm that the
natural tendency of language is from diversity to uniformity;
that dialects are, in the regular order of things, antecedent
to language,; that human speech began its existence in a
state of infinite dialectic division, which has been, from  the
first, undergoing coalescence and reduction. It may seem
hardly worth while to spend any effort in refuting an opinion
* I refer in particular to M. Ernest Renan, of Paris, whose peculiar views
upon this subject are laid down in his General History of the Semitic Languages, and more fully in his treatise on the Origin of Language (2nd edition,
Paris, 1858, ch. viii.)-a work of great ingenuity and eloquence, but one
of which the linguistic philosophy is in a far higher degree construct.
ive than inductive.  Professor Max Miiller, also, when treating of the
Teutonic class of languages (Lectures on Language, first series, fifth lec.
ture), appears distinctly to give in his adhesion to the same view.
12




178                fLLUSTRATIONS CF               [LECT.
of which the falsity will have been made apparent by the
exposition already given; yet a brief additional discussion of
the point will afford us the opportunity of setting in a
clearer light one or two principles whose distinct apprehension is necessary in order to the successful prosecution of
our farther inquiries.
It will be readily admitted that the difference between
any given dialect and another of kindred stock is made up
of a multitude of separate items of difference, and consists in
their sum and combined effect: thus, for instance, words are
possessed by the one which are wanting in the other; words
found in both are differently pronounced by each, or are used
in senses either not quite identical or very unlike; combinations and forms belong only to one, or are corrupted and
worn down in diverse degrees by the two; phrases occur in
the one which would be meaningless in the other.  Now the
gradual production of such differences as these is something
which we see to have been going on in language during the
whole period of its history illustrated by literary records;
nay, which is even going on at the present day under our
own eyes. If the Italian uses in the sense of'truth' the
word verita, the Spanish verdad, the French verite, the
English verity, we know very well that it is not because all
these forms were once alike current in the mouths of the
same people, till those who preferred each one of them sorted
themselves out and combined together into a separate community; it must be because some single people formerly used
in the same sense a single word, either coincident with one
of these or nearly resembling them all, from which they have
all descended, in the ordinary course of linguistic tradition,
that always implies liability to linguistic change. We happen
to know, indeed, in this particular case, by direct historical
evidence, what the original word was, and who were the
people that used it: it was viritdt (nominative veritas), and
belonged to the language of Rome, the Latin: its present
varieties of form merely illustrate the usual effects of
phonetic corruption. So, too, if I say attend! and the Frenchman attendez! our words differ in pronunciation, in grammatical form (the latter having a plural ending which the




v.]            DIALECTIC DIVERGENCE.              179
former lacks), and in sense (the French meaning' wait!');
tnd, in all these respects save the last, both differ from the
Latin attendite; yet of this both are alike the hereditary
representatives: no Roman ever said either attend or at.
tendez. But this same reasoning we apply also in other cases,
where direct historical evidence is wanting, arriving without
hesitation or uncertainty at like conclusions. If we say true,
while the German says treu, the Dane tro, the Netherlander
trouw, and so on, we do not once think of doubting that it is
because we have all gotten nearly the same word, in nearly
the same sense, by uninterrupted tradition from some primitive community in which a like word had a like sense; and
we set ourselves to discover what this word was, and what
and why have been the changes which have brought it into
its present varying forms. The discordance between our
fMther, the Anglo-Saxonfceder, the Icelandiefadir, the Dutch
vader, and the German vater, does not, any more than that
between verity and its analogues, compel us to assume a
time when these words existed as primitive dialectic varieties
in the same community: we regard them as the later effects
of the separation of one community into several. And when
we compare them all with the Latin pater, the Greek pater,
the Persian peder, the Sanskrit vitar-all which are but
palpable forms of the same original from which the rest have
come —our inference is still the same. Or, to recur once
more to an example which we have already had occasion to
adduce, our word is is the English correspondent of the
German ist, the Latin est, the Greek esti, the Lithuanian
esti, the Slavonian yesti, the Persian est, the Sanskrit asti.
To the apprehension of the historical student of language,
all these are nothing more than slightly varying forms of the
same vocable: their difference is one of the innumerable
differences of detail which distinguish from one another the
languages we have named.  We cannot, to be sure, go back
under the sure guidance of contemporary records to the
people among whom, and the time at which, the word originated: but we are just as far in this case as in those referred
to above from being driven to the conclusion that all its pre.
sent representatives are equally primitive, that they consti.
2*




180             DIALECTIC DIFFERENCES.           [LECT.
tute together the state of indefinite dialectic variety in which
the expression of the third person singular of the verb to be
began, and that the nations, modern or ancient, in whose
languages we find them are the lineal descendants of those
groups in a former community who finally made up their
minds to prefer the one or the other of them. On the
contrary, we derive, with all the confidence belonging to a
strictly logical process of reasoning, the conclusion that the
words we are considering are later variations of a single
original, namely asti, and that they would have no existence
if a certain inferrible community, at an unknown period in
the past, had not put together the verbal root as, signifying'existence,' and the pronoun ti, meaning'that,' to form that
original.
The same reasoning is applicable to every other individual
instance of dialectic difference. And it is so applied, in each
individual instance, even by those who maintain the priority
of dialects: such comparison and inference as we have been
illustrating constitute the method of linguistic research of the
comparative philologists, among whom they too desire to
count themselves. Only they fail to note that the whole sum
of dialectic difference is made up of instances like these, and
that, if the latter point back, in detail, to an original unity,
the former must, in its entirety, do the same. " As there
were families, clans, confederacies, and tribes," we are told,*
"before there was a nation, so there were dialects before
there was a language." The fallacy involved in this comparison, as in all the reasoning by which is supported the
view we are combating, is that it does not go back far
enough; it begins in the middle of historic development,
instead of at its commencement. If families, clans, and
tribes were ultimate elements in the history of humanity, if
they sprang up independently, each out of the soil on which
it stands, then the indefinite diversity of human language in
its early stages-a diversity, however, fundamental, and not
dialectic-might follow, not only as an analogical, but as a
direct historical consequence.  But, if a population of
scattered communities implies dispersion from a single p'int,
* Max Miiller,.c.




V.]        DECREASE OF DIALECTIC DIVERSITY.         181
if we must follow back the fates of our race until they centre
in a limited number of families or in a single pair, which
expanded by natural increase, and scattered, forming the
little communities which later fused together into greater
ones-and who will deny that it was so?-then, also, both
by analogy and by historical necessity, it follows that that is
the true view of the relation of dialects and language to
which we have been led above: namely, that growth and
divarication of dialects accompany the spread and disconnection of communities, and that assimilation of dialects accompanies the coalescence of communities.
Prevalence of the same tongue over wide regions of the
earth's surface was, indeed, impossible in the olden time, and
human speech is now, upon the whole, tending toward a condition of less diversity with every century; but this is only
owing to the vastly increased efficiency at present of those
external influences which counteract the inherent tendency
of language to diversity. As, here in America, a single cultivated nation, of homogeneous speech, is taking the place of
a congeries of wild tribes, with their host of discordant
tongues, so, on a smaller scale, is it everywhere else: civilization and the conditions it makes are gaining upon barbarism
and its isolating influences. In the fact that Frenchmen,
Spaniards, and Italians, on entering our community, all learn
alike to say with us verity, there is nothing which at all goes
to prove that verity, verite, verdad, and verita are primitive
dialectic varieties, tending toward unity; nor, in the extended
sway of the cultivated tongues of more modern periods, is
there aught which in the most distant manner favours the
theory that dialects are antecedent to uniform speech, and
that the latter everywhere grows out of the former.
It is true, again, that a certain degree of dialectic variety
is inseparable from the being of any language, at any stage
of its history. We have seen that even among ourselves,
where uniformity of speech prevails certainly not less than
elsewhere in the world, no two individuals speak absolutely
the same tongue, or would propagate absolutely the same, if
circumstances should make them the founders of independent
linguistic traditions. However small, then, may have beer.




182    ACCUXULATION OF DIALECTIC DIFFEREMIIES.  rLEOT.
the community which laid the basis of any actually existing
language or family of languages, we must admit the existence
of some differences between the idioms of its individual
members, or families.  And if we suppose such a community
to be dispersed into the smallest possible fragments, and
each fragment to become the progenitor of a separate community, it might be said with a kind of truth that the languages of these later comnmunities began their history with
dialectic differences already developed. The more widely
extended, too, the original community before its dispersion,
and the more marked the local differences, not inconsistent
with mutual intelligibility, existing in its speech, the more
capital, so to speak, would each portion have, on which to'3ommence its farther accumulation of dialectic variations.
But these original dialectic differences would themselves be
the result of previous growth, and they would be of quite
insignificant amount, as having been able to consist at the
outset with unity of speech; they might be undistinguishable
even by the closest analysis among the peculiarities of idiom
which should have arisen later; and it would be the grossest
error to maintain either that. these last were original and
primitive, or that they grew out of and were caused by the
first slight varieties: we should rather say, with entire trutj,
that the later dialects had grown by gradual divergence out
of a single homogeneous language.
In an uncultured community, the value of such minor
discordances of usage as may exist, and do always exist,
among those who yet, as being able to communicate freely
with one another, are to be regarded as speaking the same
tongue, is at its maximum. The first effect of the cultivation of a language, as we style it, is to wipe out this class of
differences, extending the area and perfecting the degree of
linguistic uniformity. And its work is accomplished, first
as last, whether the scale of variation over which its influence bears sway be less or greater, by selection, not by
fusion.  The varying usages of different individuals and
localities are not averaged, but the usages of one part of the
community are set up as a norm, to which those of the rest
shall be conformed, and from which farther variation shall be




v.]            CULTIVATION OF LANGUAGE.             188
checked or altogether prevented. An element of conscious.
ness, of reflectiveness, is introduced into the use of language;
acknowledged imitation of certain models, deference to
authority in matters of speaking, take the place of the
former more spontaneous and careless employment of the
common means of communication, governed only by the
necessities of communication, which are always felt but noe
always reasoned upon. The best speakers, those who use
words with most precision, with most fulness and force
of meaning, with most grace and art, become the teachers of
the rest. And however this influence be exerted, whether
by simple recognition of authority in those who deserve it,
or with the aid. of a popular literature, handed down by
tradition, or whether it rise to grammatical and lexical culture,
to the possession of letters and learning, it is of the same
nature; it produces its conserving and ennobling effects in
the same way.  It is the counsellor and guide, not the
master, of national usage.  It undertakes no wholesale reformation. It does not shear off from a language masses of
unnecessary means of expression which untaught speakers
would fain force upon it; it finds no such materials to deal
with. Some write and speak as if the uncultivated employer
of speech were impelled to launch out indefinitely into new
words and forms, rioting in the profusion of his linguistic
creations, until grammar comes to set bounds to his prodi.
gality, and to reduce the common tongue within reasonable
dimensions.  But it is by no means so easy and seductive a
thing to increase the resources of a language. We do not
look to our dictionaries and grammars to know if we may
use elements which come crowding to our lips and demanding
utterance. Linguistic growth is a slow process, extorted, as
it were, by necessity, by the exigencies of use, from the
speakers of language. The obligation resting upon each one
of making himself intelligible to his fellows, and understand.
ing them in turn, is the check, and a sufficient one, upon individual license of production. Economy is a main element:n linguistic development; that which is superfluous in
a dialect, not needed for practical use, falls off and dies-of
itself, without waiting to be lopped away by the pruning,




184       DIALECTIC CORRESPONDENCES ALWAYS        [LEMT.
knife of a grammarian.  Culture chooses, from among the
varieties of equivalent form, utterance, and phrase which a
defective communication has allowed to spring up within
the limits of the same community, those which shall be ac.
cepted as most worthy of preservation.  It maintains what
is good, warns against abuses, and corrects offences committed by a part against the authority of prevailing usage. A
cultivated language is thus simply one whose natural growth
has gone on for a certain period under the conscious and
interested care of its best speakers; which has been placed'in their charge, for the maintenance of a standard, for the
repression of disfiguring alterations, for enrichment with expressions for higher thought and deeper knowledge; for the
enforcement, in short, of their own studied usages of speech.upon the less instructed and more heedless masses of a community.
It is obviously futile to attempt to draw anywhere a
dividing line in the development of language-to say, these
differences on the one side are the result of later linguistic
growth; those, on the other side, are original, a part of the
primitive variety and indefiniteness of human speech. The
nature and uses of speech, and the forces which act upon it
and produce its changes, cannot but have been essentially
the same during all the periods of its history, amid all its
changing circumstances, in all its varying phases; and there
is no way in which its unknown past can be investigated,
except by the careful study of its living present and its
recorded past, and the extension and application to remote
conditions of laws and principles deduced by that study.
Like effects, as we have already had occasion to claim, imply
like causes, not less in the domain of language than in that of
physical science; and he who pronounces the origin and
character of ancient dialects and forms of speech to be funda.
mentally different from those of modern dialects and forms
of speech can only be compared with the geologist who
should acknowledge the formation by aqueous action of recent
gravel and pebble-beds, but should deny that water had any.
thing to do with the production of a'cient sandstones and
conglomerates.




?t,             IMPLY ORIGINAL UNITY.              185
The continuity and similarity of the course of linguistic
history in all its stages, and the competency of linguistic
correspondences, wherever we find them, to prove unity of
origin and community of tradition, are truths which we need
to bear in mind as we proceed with our inquiries into lan.
guage. If we meet in different tongues with words which
are clearly the same word, notwithstanding differences of form
and meaning which they may exhibit, we cannot help concluding that they are common representatives of a single
original, once formed and adopted by a single community,
and that from this they have come down by the ordinary and
still subsisting processes of linguistic tradition, which always
and everywhere involve liability to alteration in outer shape
and inner content. It is true that there are found in language accidental resemblances between words of wholly different origin: of such we shall have to take more particular
notice in a later lecture (the tenth): but exceptions like
these do not make void the rule; the possibility of their
occurrence only imposes upon the etymologist the necessity of
greater care and circumspection in his comparisons, of studying
more thoroughly the history of the words with which he has
to deal. It is also true that real historical correspondences
may exist between isolated words in two languages without
implying the original identity of those languages, or anything
more than a borrowing by the one out of the stores of
expression belonging to the other. Our own tongue, for
instance, aside from its wholesale composition out of the
tongues of two different races, draws more or less of its
material from nearly every one of the languages of Europe,
and from not a few of those of Asia, Africa, and America.
Yet it is evident that such borrowing has its limits, both of
degree and of kind, and that it may be within the power of
the linguistic student readily to distinguish its results from
the effects of a genuine community of linguistic tradition.
The method by which we are to proceed in grouping and
classifying the languages spoken by mankind, now and in
former times, results with necessary consequence from the
principles which we have laid down. We have seen that no
given form of speech remains permanently the same: each




186             GROUPING OF LANGUAGES             [LECT.
changes continually, in its structure and content, and tends
to divide, with the progress of time, into varying forms or
dialects. No existing language, no recorded language, is
original; each is the descendant of some earlier one, from
which, perhaps, other existing or recorded languages are
equally descended.  With this easy clew to guide us, the
labyrinth of human speech is a labyrinth no longer; it is
penetrated by paths which we may securely follow. We
have simply to group together according to their affinities the
languages knoW'fus; conneing           f all, those whose
tt                           -WElty of tru-,aglswt ot6iry atctually teaches
thtrsam —ovriginal-that" enve' the most exaggerated scepticism
Ceould- no-t venture -to deny their relato'shjsp; then going on
to -extend- ours classification from the more clearly to the more
obsciiely;, ro-m "the more ciosely to the more remotely Con.
n:oteid, until we have done the utmost which ihe nature of
the case.permits, until" analysis and deduction will carry us
no farther.  The way is plameniough at first, anad even the
iin6st careless may tread it without fear of wandering; but to
follow it to the end demands, along with much labour and
pains, no little wariness and clearness of vision.
Let us, then, turn aside for a time from pursuing the
direct course of our fundamental inquiry, "why we speak so
and so," to ask who "we" are to whom the inquiry relates;
who, along with us that acknowledge the various forms of
the English as our native speech, use languages which are,
after all, only dialectic forms of one great original mothertongue.
The results of such an investigation into the relationship
of the English language have been, to a certain extent, taken
for granted during our whole discussion. This was unavoidable: we could not otherwise have talked at all of genetic
connection, or illustrated the processes of linguistic growth.
Now, however, we have to take up the subject more systematically, showing the extent to which the tie of relationship
reaches, and presenting some of the evidence which proves its
reality.
To assert that the slightly differing forms of speech which




V.]            BY GENETIC RELATIONSHIP.           187
prevail in the various parts of our own country, and even the
more noteworthy dialects found among the classes of the
population of Britain, form together only one language, is tc
assert a truism: no man in his sober senses would presume
to doubt it. Let any one, however ignorant of history he
may be, go about the globe, finding on each side of the
Atlantic, and scattered from island to island, communities
who speak English, though tinged with local colouring, and
it will not enter into his mind to doubt that they were
scattered thither from some common centre, that they all
have their accordant speech by community of linguistic
tradition. A like conclusion is reached almost as directly,
if we follow back to the continent of Europe the traces of
those adventurous tribes which, as history distinctly informs
us, colonized at no very remote date the British isles, and
note what languages are still spoken upon the shores whence
they set forth on their career of conquest. The larger and
more indispensable part of English, as has been already
pointed out, finds its kindred in Germany, whence came the
Saxon and Anglian portion of our ancestry. The community
of tradition between the English and the German, Netherlandish, Swedish, Danish, and so on, is so pervading, and its
evidences are so patent to view, that no one, -probably, who
has ever added a knowledge of either of the languages named
to that of his English mother-tongue has failed to be struck
by it, and to be convinced that, in their main structure and
material, the two were one speech. But his experience has
also taught him that the difference between them is far from
being inconsiderable, and that, unfortunately for him, he is by
no means able to speak and write German or Swedish,
because English, like them, is Germanic. If an American,
he will talk readily with an educated Englishman; he will
even make shift to understand a Yorkshireman, a broad
Scotchman, or an Irishman fresh from his native bogs; but
put him and a German together, and the two are well-nigh
as deaf and dumb to each other as if the one of them were a
G-reek or a Hindu.  Plainly enough, the explanation of
their difficulty is simply this: these two Germanic dialects,
originally one language and belonging to a single community,




188                GERMANIC GROUP.              [LEJCT.
have been now so long separated, and their independent
changes in the interval have been so great, that free and
intelligent communication is no longer possible between
those who have learned to speak them: one must have some.
what of instruction in both in order to be able to discover
the fact of their relationship.
Not all the Germanic languages, however, are allied with
the English in equal degree. The Low-German dialects, as
they are called, those which occupy the northern shores and
lowlands of the country, stand notably nearer to our tongue
than do the dialects of central and southern Germany, the
literary High-German and its next of kin.  This relation is
readily and sufficiently accounted for by the circumstances
of the Germanic emigration to Britain: our ancestors came
from the shore provinces, and brought with them the forms
of speech there prevailing.  And there is yet another
principal group of Germanic languages, coordinate with the
two already mentioned: it occupies the outliers of Germany
to the north, namely Denmark, Sweden and Norway, and
their remote colony of Iceland. It is usually called the
Scandinavian group. We have in our own present speech
not a few traces of its peculiar words and usages, imported
into England by those fierce Northmen-or Danes, as
English history is accustomed to style them-whose incursions during many centuries so harassed the Saxon mon.
archy.
These three groups or classes of existing dialects, the
Low-German, the High-German, and the Scandinavian, with
their numerous subdivisions, constitute, then, a well-marked
family of related languages; although those who speak them
can only to a very limited extent understand one another,
the same sentence or paragraph could not be written in any
two of them without bringing to light such and so many
resemblances as even to a superficial examination would
appear sure proof of a genetic connection.  It is past question that all the Germanic dialects are descendants and joint
representatives of a single tongue, spoken somewhere, at
some time in the past, by a single community, and that all
the differences now exhibited by them are owing to the




v.]                 ROMANIC GROUP.                189
separation of this community, in the progress of time, into
detached and somewhat isolated portions, with the consequent
breaking up into diverging lines and currents of the common
stream of their linguistic tradition.  It is even clear that, so
far as concerns the surviving dialects, the divergence was
primarily into three main branches, now represented by the
three groups of languages which have been defined above.
Hlow it happens that our vocabulary also contains so large
a store of words that are foreign to all the other Germanic
dialects, but are shared with us by the nations of southern
Europe, was fully set forth in the last lecture. We saw that
the Normans-who, though a people of Germanic blood, had
lived long enough in France to substitute the idiom of that
country for their own forgotten tongue-imported into
England a new current of linguistic tradition, which, after a
time, mingled peacefully in the same bed with the former
one. The languages with which ours is thus brought into a
kind of relationship by marriage were seen to be the French,
the Spanish and Portuguese, the Italian, the Rhmeto-Romanic,
and the Wallachian, each including a host of minor dialects.
The descent of these tongues, constituting together the
Romanic group or family, from a common mother, the Latin,
is written down in full upon the pages of history, and has
been by us already briefly reviewed.
That these two important families of human language, the
Germanic and the Romanic, are also in remoter degree
related to one another and to other ancient and modern
families, as joint branches of a yet more extensive family, is
a truth equally undeniabie, although not equally obvious.
That, it might be so is evident enough, according to the
principles which we have already established respecting the
life of language. There is no limit assignable to the extent
to which the descendants of a common linguistic stock may
diverge and become separated from one another. The question is one of fact, of evidence. Only a careful and thorough
sifting of their linguistic material can determine how far the
ramifications of genetical relationship may blnd together
languages apparently diverse. If two kindred tongues can,
by divergent growth, come to differ from each other as mnuch




190          OTHER GROUPS OF LANGUAGES           [LEOT.
as English and German, there is no a priori ground for be.
lieving that they may not come to differ as much as English
and Polish, or Greek, or Hindustani.  And, by approved
scientific methods of linguistic research, students of language
have traced out the boundaries of a grand family of human
speech, embracing, along with the Germanic and Romanic
groups, nearly all the other tongues of Europe, and those of
no small portion of south-western Asia. We will accordingly
go on first to pass in review the various branches claimed to
constitute this family, and then to examine the evidence
upon which the claim is founded.
Of nearest kindred with the Latin, as well as most nearly
associated with it in history, is the ancient Greek, its classic
compeer, but its superior in flexibility and beauty; superior,
too, as regards the genius and culture of those to whom it
served as the instrument of thought; but of far less conspicuous career, and making at the present day but an insignificant figure in the sum of human speech, being spoken
only by the scanty population of Greece itself, and by the
peoples, partly of Greek origin, which fill the islands and
line the shores of the ~Egean and Black seas.
The languages displaced by the Latin were, as we have
seen, in great part Celtic. At the beginning of the historic
period, the domain of the Celts included no mean portion of
the soil of Europe. Britain, Gaul, a part of Spain, and the
north of Italy, together with some of the provinces of
central Europe, were in their possession. But the more
energetic and persistent Italic and Germanic races soon
began to gain ground upon them: and now, for a long succession of centuries, no Celtic tribe of any importance has
maintained its integrity and independence. The Erse, or
Gaelic of the Scotch Highlands, the native Irish, or Gaelic
of Ireland, and the insignificant dialect of the Isle of Man,
representing together the Gadhelic division of Celticspeech —
and the Welsh in Wales, and the Breton or Armorican in
Brittany, representatives of the other, the Cymric division,
are the scanty remains of that great family of related tongues
which, but little -hore than two thousand years ago, occupied




V.]               AKIN WITH ANGLISH.                 191
more territory than German, Latin, and Greek combined;
and they are all, probably, on their way to extinction.
The eastern part of Europe is mainly filled by the numerous branches of another important family, the Slavic or Sla.
vonic. Although somewhat encroached upon on the west by
the Germanic, it has, upon the whole, from  inconspicuous
beginnings, grown steadily in consequence since its first
appearance on the stage of history, and now occupies a com.
manding position eastward, as the vehicle of civilization to
northern and central Asia.  It covers most of Russia in
Europe, with Poland, the eastern provinces of Austria, and
the northern of Turkey. Among its principal branches are
the Russian, with numerous subdivisions, the Polish, the
Bohemian, the Servian, and the Bulgarian.  All these are
as distinctly and closely akin with one another as are the
modern Germanic dialects.
A more remotely allied branch of the same family, con.
stituting almost a family by itself, occupies a narrow territory
about the great bend of the Baltic sea, from the gulf of
Finland to beyond the German frontier, and comprises the
Lithuanian, the Livonian or Lettish, and the Old Prussian.
The latter is already extinct, and the others also appear to
be going gradually out of existence, under pressure of the
assimilating influence exerted upon them by the languages of
the surrounding more powerful communities.
We have thus reviewed all the languages of modern
Europe, excepting, first, the Albanian, which is the living
representative of the ancient Illyrian, and of which the connections are doubtful (although it is likely to be yet proved
to belong with the rest, as a branch of the same stock);
secondly, the Basque, in the Pyrenees, a wholly isolated and
problematical tongue; thirdly, the Hungarian, with its relatives, the Finnish and Lappish of the extreme north, and
other languages spoken by scattered tribes in northern and
eastern Russia; and finally, the Turkish and its congeners,
which do but overlap slightly the south-eastern frontier.
These two last groups, as we shall see hereafter (in the
eighth lecture), are of a kindred that occupies no small part




192              OONSTITUTION OF THE             [LEOTr.
of northern and central Asia. But before we have gathered
in all the members of the great family we are seeking to
establish, we must cross the border of Europe, and enter
southern Asia.
Asia Minor is chiefly in the hands of Turkish tribes, who
have crowded themselves in there in comparatively modern
times, driving out, or subjecting and assimilating, the previous
occupants.  The same races stretch eastward, across the
southern extremity of the Caspian sea, intervening between
Europe and the countries whose speech shows affinity with
that of Europe.  But within, in the hilly provinces of Media
and Persia, and on the great Iranian table-land, which
stretches thence to the Indus, we find again abundant traces
of a linguistic tradition coinciding ultimately with our own.
The Persian, with all its dialects, ancient and modern, and
with its outliers on the north-west and on the east-as
the Armenian, the Kurdish, the Ossetic, and the Afghanconstitutes a branch of our family, the Persian or Iranian
branch. And yet one step farther we are able to pursue the
same tie of connection. The Iranian languages conduct us
to the very borders of India: beyond those borders, in Hindustan, between the bounding walls of the Himalayas and
Vindhyas, and eastward to the mouths of the Ganges, lies the
easternmost branch of that grand division of human speech
to which our own belongs, the Indian branch, comprising the
ancient Sanskrit, with its derived and kindred languages.,FIThe seven groups of languages at which we have thus
glanced-namely, the Indian, the Persian, the Greek, the
Latin, the Slavonic (including the Lithuanic), the Germanic,
and the Celtic-each made up of numerous dialects and
sub-dialects, are the members composing one vast and highlyimportant family of human speech, to which, from the names
of its two extreme members, we give the title of "IndoEuropean." It is known also by various other designations:
some style it "Japhetic," as if it appertained to the descendants
of the patriarch Japhet, as the so-called " Semitic" tongues to
the descendants of Shem; " Aryan " is a yet more popular and
customary name for it, but is liable to objection, as being more
especially appropriate to the joint Indo-Persian branch of




v.]             INDO-EUROIEAN FAMILY.               193
the family, since it is used by them, and them alone, in de.
signating themselves; and a few still employ the term " Indo.
Germanic," which seems to savour of national prepossession,
since no good reason can be given why, among the western
branches, the Germanic should be singled out for representation in the general title of the family.
The languages of this whole family sustain to one another
a relation which is the same in kind with that subsisting
between the various Germanic dialects, and differs from it
only in degree. That the signs of their relationship escape
the notice of a superficial observer-that the school-boy, or
even the college-student, when toiling over his Greek and
Latin tasks, does not suspect, and might be hard to per.
suade, that the classical languages and his mother-tongue
are but modified forms of the same original, is evidently no
ground for discrediting the fact. The uninstructed English
speaker, as we have seen, finds even the nearly kindred
German as strange and unintelligible as the Turkish: both
are to him in equal degree, as he says, "all Dutch," or "all
Greek;" and yet, a little learning enables him to find half
his native vocabulary, in a somewhat changed but still plainly
recognizable form, in the German dictionary. A higher degree of instruction is required, in order to the discovery and
appreciation of that evidence which proves the remoter relationship of the Indo-European tongues; a wider comparison, a
more skilled and penetrating analysis, must be applied; but,
by its application, the conclusion is reached just as directly
and surely in the one case as in the other. The inquirer
fully convinces himself that the correspondences in their
material and structure are too numerous, and of too intimate
a character, to be explained with any plausibility by the
supposition of accidental coincidence, or of mutual borrowing
or imitation; that they can only be the consequence of a
common linguistic tradition.
An;y complete or detailed exhibition of the evidence which
show* the original unity of the languages claimed to constitute the Indo-European family is, of course, utterly impossible within the necessary limits of these lectures; but it
is altogether desirable that we should direct our attention te
13




194        CLASSES OF CORRESPONDING WORDS         [LBCT,
at least a few samples of the correspondences from which so
important a truth is derived. It will be allowable to do this
the more succinctly, inasmuch as the truth is one now so
well established and so generally received, and of which the
proof is already familiar to so many. We may fairly claim,
indeed, that it is denied only by those who are ignorant of
the facts and methods of linguistic reasoning, or whose judgments are blinded by preconceived opinion.
I shall not strive after originality in my selection of
the correspondences which illustrate the common origin
of the Indo-European tongues, but shall follow the course
already many times trodden by others. This is one which
is marked out by the circumstances of the case. It would
be extremely easy, choosing out any two from among the
languages which we wish to compare-as the Latin and
Greek, the Greek and Sanskrit, the Latin and Russian,
the Lithuanian and German -  to draw up long lists of
words common to both, out of every part of their respective
vocabularies; especially, if we were to take the time and
pains to enter into a discussion of the laws governing their
phonetic variations, and so to point out their obscure as
well as their more obvious correspondences: and we might
thus satisfactorily prove them all related, by proving each
one related with each of the rest in succession. When,
however, we seek for words which are clearly and palpably
identical in all or nearly all the branches of the family, we
have to resort to certain special classes, as the numerals and
the pronouns. The reason of this it is not difficult to point
out. For a large portion of the objects, acts, and states, of
the names for which our languages are composed, it is com.
paratively easy to find new designations: they offer numer.
ous salient points for the names-giving faculty to seize upon;
the characteristic qualities, the analogies with other things;
which suggest and call forth synonymous or nearly synonym.
ous titles, are many. Hence a language may originate a
variety of appellations for the same thing-as, for horse, we
have also the almost equivalent names steed, nag, courser,
racer; and further, for the different kinds and cornditions of
the same animal, the names stallion, mare, gelding, filly, Cola.




V.]        IN THE INDO-EUfROPEAN LANGUAGES.         195
pony, and others-and, in the breaking up of the language
into dialects, one of these synonymous appellations is liable
to become the prevailing one in one dialect, another in
another, to the neglect and loss of all but the one selected.
Or, a new name is started in a single dialect, wins currency
there, and crowds out of use its predecessors. The German,
for instance, has, indeed, our word horse, in the form rose
(earlier hros), but employs it more rarely, preferring to use
instead pferd, a word of which we know nothing. The
modern Romanic tongues, too, say in the same sense caballo,
cheval, etc., words coming from the Latin caballus,'nag,'
and they have lost almost altogether the more usual and
dignified Latin term  eqtuus.  Thus, further, the modern
French name for' shoemaker' is cordonnier, literally' worker
in Cordovan leather;' for' cheese,' fromaye, properly'pressed into a form, moulded;' for'liver,'foie, originally'cooked with figs'-that fruit having been, as it seems, at a
certain period, the favourite garnish for dishes of liver:
while the Latin appellations of these three objects have gone
out of use and out of memory. But for the numerals and
pronouns our languages have never shown any disposition to
create a synonymy; it was, as we may truly say, no easy task
for the linguistic faculty to arrive at a suitable sign for the
ideas they convey; and, when the sign was once found, it
maintained itself thenceforth in use everywhere, without
danger of replacement by any other, of later coinage. Hence
all the Indo-European nations, however widely they may be
separated, and however discordant in manners and civilization, count with the same words, and use the same personal
pronouns in individual address-the same, with the exception, of course, of the changes which phonetic corruption has
wrought upon their forms.
For reasons not so easily explainable, the Indo-European
languages show a hardly less noteworthy general accordance
in regard to the terms by which, within the historical period,
or down even to the present time, they indicate the degrees
of near relationship, such as father, mother, daughter, brother,
sister. Formed, as these words were,' in the earliest period
of history of the common mother-tongue, they have in nearly
13 *




196                 CORRESPONDENCES IN  THE                    [LEaT.
all its branches escaped being superseded by expressions of
later growth, although there is hardly one of them which
does not here and there exhibit a modern substitute.
The following table will set forth, it is believed, in a plain
and apprehensible manner some of the correspondences of
which we have been speaking. For the sake of placing
their value in a clearer light, I add under each word its
equivalents  in  three  of  the  languages-namely  Arabic,
Turkish, and Hungarian-which, though neighbours of the
Indo-European tongues, or enveloped by them, are of wholly
different kindred.
English      two   three nevee  thou       me   mother  brother daughter
Germanic 
Dutch      twee  drie   zeven            m       moeder  broeder dochter
Icelandic   tvi   thriu   sid    thu     mig    modhir brodhir dottir
High-German zwei  drei   sieben  du      mich    mutter  bruder  tochter
Moeso-Gothic twa   thri   sibun   thu    mike           brothar dauhtar
Lithuanic    du    tri    septyni tu     manen  moter  brolis  dukter
Slavonic    ddta   tri    sedmi  tii     man    mater  brat   dochy
Celtic     du   tri    secht   tu        me      mathair brathair dear (??)
Latin       duo   tres    septem  tu    [me      mater  frater
Greek      diuo   treis   hepta  sii     me      meter  phrater thugater
Persian     dwa   thri    hapta  tum     me      matar
Sanskrit    dwa   tri    sapta  twam   me        matar  bhratar dluhitar
Arabic     ithn   thalath  sab'    anta   ana    umm   Jakh    bint
Turkish    iki   iich    yedi   se    ben       a na    kardash kiz
Hungarian  Iket    harom  het    Ce      engem   anya   flver   Zeany
I  have selected, of course, for inclusion  in  this table,:those words of the several classes represented which exhibit
most clearly their actual unity of descent: in others, it would
require some detailed discussion of phonetic relations to
make the same unity appear.  Thus, the Sanskrit panca, the
G-reek pente, the  Latin  quinque, and the  Gothic fimf, all
meaning'five,' are as demonstrably the later metamorphoses
of a single original word as are the varying forms of the
primitive tri,'three,' given above: each of their phonetic
changes  being  supported  by  numerous  analogies  in  the
respective languages. The whole scheme of numeral and
pronominal forms and of terms of relationship is substantially
one and the same in all the tongues ranked as Indo-European.
These facts, of themselves, would go far toward proving
the original unity of the languages in q-estion.  To look




T.]           INDO-EUROPELN' LANGUAGES.           197
upon correspondences like those here given as the result of
accident is wholly preposterous: no sane man would think
of ascribing them to such a cause.  Nor is the hypothesis of
a natural and inherent bohd- between the sound and the
sense, which would prompt language-makers in different
parts of the earth to assign, independently of one another;
these names to these conceptions, at all more admissible.
The existence of a natural bond could be claimed with even
the slightest semblance of plausibility only in the case of the
pronouns and the words for' father' and'mother;' and
there, too, the claim could be readily disposed of —if, indeed,
it be not already sufficiently refuted by the words from stranger
tongues which are cited in the table. Mutual borrowing, too,
transfer from one tongue to another, would be equally far
from furnishing an acceptable explanation. Were we dealing
with two or three neighbouring dialects alone, the suggestion
of such a borrowing would not be so palpably futile as
in the case in hand, where the facts to be explained are
found in so many tongues, covering a territory which stretches
from the mouths of the Ganges to the shores of the Atlantic.
Amodified form of the hypothesis of mutual borrowing is put
forth by some who are indisposed to admit the essential oneness of Indo-European speech. Some tribe or race, they
say, of higher endowments and culture, has leavened with its
material and usages the tongues of all these scattered peoples,
engrafting upon their original diversity an element of agreement and unity. But this theory is just as'untenable as the
others which we have been reviewing. Instances of mixture
of languages-resulting either from the transmission of a
higher and more favoured culture, or from a somewhat equal
and intimate mingling of races, or from both together-have
happened during the historical period in sufficient numbers
to allow the linguistic student to see plainly what are its
effects upon language, and that they are very different
from those which make the identity of Indo-European language. The introduction of culture and knowledge, of art and
science, may bring in a vocabulary of expressions for the know.
ledge communicated, the conceptions taught or prompted; but
it cannot touch the most intimate fund of speech, the words




-198            CORRESPONDENCES IN THE            [LECT.
significant of those ideas without whose designation no
spoken tongue would be worthy of the name. If we could
possibly suppose that the rude ancestors of the Indo-European nations, more brutish than the Africans and Polynesians of the present day, were unable to count their fingers even
until taught by some missionary tribe which went from one
fo the other, scattering these first rudiments of mathematical
knowledge, we might attribute to its influence the close
correspondence of the Indo-European numeral systems; but
then we should have farther to assume that the same teachers
instructed them how to address one another with I and thou,
and how to name the members of their own families: and
who will think of maintaining such an absurdity?  All the
preponderating influence of the Sanskrit-speaking tribes of
northern India over the ruder population of the Dekhan, to
which they gave religion, philosophy, and polity, has only
resulted in filling the tongues of the south with learned
Sanskrit, much as our own English is filled with learned
Latin and Greek. Even that coalescence of nearly equal
populations, lang uages, and cultures out of which has grown
-the tongue we' speak, has, as was pointed out in the fourth
of these lectures, left the language of common life among
us-the nucleus of a vocabulary which the child first learns,
and every English speaker uses every day, almost every
hour —still overwhelmingly Saxon: the English is Gerlhanic
in its fundamental structure, though built higher and decorated in every part with Romanic material. So is it also
with the Persian, in its relation to the Arabic, of whose
material its more learned and artificial styles are in great
part made up; so with the Turkish, of which the same thing
is true with regard to the Persian and Arabic. But most of
all do these cases of the mingling of different tongues in one
language, and every other known case of a like character,
-show that the grammatical system, the apparatus of inflection
anzd word-making, the means by which vocables, such as they
stand in their order in the dictionary, are taken out and
woven together into connected discourse, resists longest and,most obstinately any trace of intermixture, the intrusion of
foreign elements and foreign habits. However many French




V.]               INDO-EUROPEAN  LANGUAGES.                     199
nouns and verbs were admitted to full citizenship in English
speech, they all had to give up in this respect their former
nationality   every one of them  was declined or conjugated
after Germanic models.  Such a thing as a language with a
mixed  grammatical apparatus  has never come under the
cognizance of linguistic students: it would be to them a
monstrosity; it seems an  impossibility.   Now  the  IndoEuropean languages are full of the plainest and most unequivocal correspondences of grammatical structure; they
show abundant traces of a common system of word-formation,
of declension, of conjugation, however disguised by the corruptions and overlaid by the new developments of a later time:
and these traces are, above all others, the most irrefutable
evidences of the substantial unity of their linguistic tradition.
We will notice but a single specimen of this kind of evidences,
the most striking one, perhaps, which Indo-European grammar has to exhibit. This is the ordinary declension of the
verb, in its three persons singular and plural. In drawing
out the comparison, we cannot start, as before, from the
English, because, as has been shown in a previous lecture
(the third), the English  has lost its ancient apparatus of
personal endings: we must represent the whole Germanic
branch by its oldest member, the Mceso-Gothic,.  The table
is as follows: *
English'I have''thou hast''he has'' we have  ye have''they have
Mueso-Gothic   habae    habai-s   habai-th  hzabam    habai-th  haba-nd
Mod. Persian    -m                  -d       m          -d     -and
Celtic                              -d       -          -d      t
Lithuanic       -in       -si       -ti      me        -te    -ti
Slavonic        -mi        -si   n si        -mu       -te      -Sti
Latin       habeo       habes    habe-t  habe-mLus   habe-tis  habe-nt
Greek           -mi       -Si       -ti      me        -te     -antS
Sanskrit         mi        -si      -ti      -masi     -Sth    -nti
Fundamental and far-reaching as are the correspondences,
* Owing to the difficulty of finding a single verb which shall present the
endings in all the different languages, the verb to have has been selected, and
given in full in the two languages in which it occurs, the-terminations alone
being elsewhere %written. These are not iv all cases the most usual endlings
of conjugation, but such as are found in ven\s, or in dialects, which has
preserved more faithfully their primitivb forms.




200       THE INDO-EUROPEFN MOTHER-TRIBE.       [LECT
of material and of form, which have thus been brought for.
ward, it is not necessary that we insist upon their competency,
alone and unaided, to prove the Indo-European languages
only later dialectic forms of a single original tongue/  Their
convincing force lies in the fact that they are selected in.
stances, examples chosen from among a host of others, which
abound in every part of the grammar and vocabulary of all
the languages in question, now so plain as to strike the eye
of even the hasty student, now so hidden under later peculiar
growth as to be only with difficulty traceable by the acute
and practised linguistic analyst. IHe who would know them
better may find them  in such works as the Comparative
Grammars of Bopp and Schleicher and the Greek Etymologies of Curtius. An impartial examination of them must
persuade even the most sceptical that these tongues exhibit
resemblances which can be accounted for only on the supposition of a prevailing identity of linguistic tradition, such as
belongs to the common descendants of one and the same
mother-tongue. On the other hand, all their differences,
great and widely sundering as these confessedly are, can be
fully explained by the prolonged operation of the same causes
which have broken up the Latin into the modern Romanic
dialects, or the original Germanic tongue into its various
existing forms, and which have converted the Anglo-Saxon of
a thousand years ago into our present English. Besides its
natural divergent growth, the original Indo-European tongue
has doubtless been in some degree diversified by intermixture
here and there with languages of other descent; but there is
no reason for believing that this has been an element of any
considerable importance in its history of development. At
some period, then, in the past, and in some limited region of
Europe or Asia, lived a tribe from whose imperfect dialect
have descended all those rich and cultivated tongues now
spoken and written by the teeming millions of Europe and
of some of the fairest parts of Asia.
To know when and where this tribe lived and formed its
language is unfortunately beyond our power. It is, indeed,
often assumned and asserted that the original Indo-European
home was in the north-eastern part of the Iranian plateaus




V.]           ITS ORIGINAL HOME UNKNOWN.               201
near the Hindu-Koh mountains; but so definite a determina.
tion possesses not the slightest shadow of authority or value.
We really know next to nothing of the last movements which
have brought any branch of the family into its present place
of abode; even these lie beyond the reach of the very
hoariest traditions which have come down to us. The day.
light of recorded history dawns first upon the easternmost,
the Indo-Persian or Aryan, branch. The time is probably
not far from two thousand years before Christ. We there
see the Sanskrit-speaking tribes but just across the threshold of India, working their way over the river-valleys and
intervening sand-plains of its north-western province, the
Penjab, toward the great fertile territory, watered by the
Ganges and its tributaries, of which they are soon to become the masters; and we know that India, at least, is not
the first home, but one of the latest conquests, of the family.
The epoch, however, early as it appears to us, is far from the
beginning of Indo-European migrations; the general separation of the branches had taken place long before: and who
shall say which of them has wandered widest, in the search
after a permanent dwelling-place? The joint home of In.
dians and Persians was doubtless in north-eastern Iran,
the scene of the oldest Persian religious and heroic legend
and tradition; but there is.no evidence whatever to prove
that they were the aborigines of that region, and that all
migration had been westward from  thence.*  Greek history
and tradition also penetrate a little way into the second
thousand years before Christ; but the Greeks are then already in quiet possession of that little peninsula, with the
neighbouring islands and Asiatic shores, whence the glory of
their genius afterward irradiated the world; and, for aught
that they are able to tell us of their origin, they might have
sprung out of the ground there-born, according to their
own story, of the stones which Deucalion and Pyrrha threw
* Some authorities incline to regard the geographical reminiscences of the
Zend-avesta (in the first chapter of the Vendidad) as indicating the course of
the joint Arvan migration from the original family home; but the claim
appears to me so wholly baseless, and even preposterous, that I find it difficult to understand how any man should seriously put it forward.




202            THE INDO-EUROPEAN HOME             [LEOT,
behind them. The Latin race first appears as an insignificant
handful in central Italy, crowded by other communities, in
part of kindred blood; but no legend told us respecting its
entrance into the Italian peninsula is of the very smallest
historical value. Roman historians first bring to our knowledge the Celts and Germans.  The former are already beginning to shrink and waste away within their ancient limits
before the aggressions of the surrounding races: Celtic tales
of the migrations westward which brought them into their
European seats are but lying legends, mere echoes of their
later knowledge of the countries and nations to the east.
ward. Germany is, from the first, the home of the Germans:
they are a seething mass; south-eastward as well as southwestward rove their restless hordes, disturbing for centuries
the peace of the civilized world; they leave their traces in
every country of middle Europe, from the Volga to the
Pillars of Hercules; but whence and when they came
into Germany, we ask in vain. Last to appear upon the
historic stage are the Slavonians, in nearly their present
abodes: a less enterprising, but a stubborn and persistent
race, whose lately acquired civilization has only within a
short time begun to be aggressive. Of its own origin, it has
nothing at all to say.
But if history and tradition thus refuse to aid us in searching for the Indo-European home, neither do the indications
of language point us with anything like definiteness or certainty to its locality.  The tongues of the easternmost
branches, the Persian and Indian, do, indeed, exhibit the least
departure from that form of speech which a general comparison of all the dialects shows to have been the primitive
one; but this is very far from proving the peoples who speak
them  to have remained nearest to their primitive seats.
Migration does not necessarily lead to rapidity of linguistic
changes, nor does permanence of location always imply persistency of linguistic type. Thus-to refer only to two or
three striking facts among the languages of this family-the
Greek has preserved much more than the Armenian of that
material and structure which were of earliest Indo-European
development, notwithstanding the more oriental position of




a.,)         UNKNOWN AND UNDISCOVERABLE.               203
the latter; of all the existing tongues of the whole great
family, the Lithuanian, on the Baltic, retains by far the most
antique aspect; and, among the Germanic dialects, the
speech of Iceland, the latest Germanic colony, is least varied
from their common type. All that primitiveness of form, in
respect both to language and institutions, which characterizes
the Aryan branch of the family-and especially the Indian
member of the branch, in its oldest period, represented to us
in the Vedas —would be fully and satisfactorily accounted
for, without denying them a long history and wide migration,
by attributing to them an exceptionally conservative disposition-such a disposition as so markedly distinguishes the
Indian above the Persian people since their separation, making
the former, in a vastly higher degree than the latter, the
model and illustration of earliest Indo-European antiquity.
Nor, again, are the inter-connections of the different
branches, so far as yet made out, of a nature to cast much
light upon the history of their wanderings. That the separation of Indian and Persian is latest of all is, it is true,
universally admitted. Nearly all agree, moreover, in allowing
a like special relationship of the Greek and Latin, although
its comparative remoteness, and the loss of intermediate
forms, make the question one of decidedly greater doubt and
difficulty. Beyond this, nothing is at present firmly established. The honour of a later and closer alliance with the
Aryan or Indo-Persian branch has been confidently claimed
for the classical or Greco-Latin, for the Slavonic, and for the
Germanic, respectively.  Within no long time past, a German scholar of high rank * has attempted to lay out a scheme
of relationship for all the branches of the family. He assumes
that the original stock parted first into a northern and a
southern grand division: the northern included what afterward became the Germanic and the Slavo-Lithuanic branches,
the latter of them dividing yet later into Slavonic and
Lithuanic; the southern was broken up first into an Aryan
and. a southern European group, which respectively under* Professor August Schleicher, of Jena: his views may be found drawn
out in full in the preface to his interesting work on the German language
(Die Deutsche Sprache, Stuttgart, 1860).




204             THE PLACE AND TIME OF             [LEEO
went farther separation, the one into Persian and Indian, the
other into Greek and Italo-Celtic: while the Italic, of which
the Latin is the chief, and the Celtic, were the last to begin
their independent history, being still more closely related
than the Latin and the Greek. The feature of this arrange.
ment which is most calculated to repel rather than attract
assent is the position assigned to the Celtic languages.
Few scholars are ready to allow that these tongues, in which
the original and distinctive features of Indo-European speech
are most of all hidden under the manifold effects of decay
and new growth, whose Indo-European character was therefore the last of all to be recognized, and whose separation
from the common stock has been generally looked upon as
-the commencement of its dispersions, are to be regarded as
the nearest kindred of the Latin —although no one who remembers how greatly the rates of linguistic change vary
among different peoples and under different circumstances
will venture to pronounce the connection impossible. The
time has not yet come for a full settlement of these controverted points; the means of their solution are, however,.
doubtless contained in the linguistic facts which lie within our
reach, and a more thorough study and closer comparison will
one day bring them to light, and may perhaps at the same time
illustrate the course and order of those grand movementswhich
have brought the various races of the family into their present
seats. But that such or any other evidences will ever direct
our gaze to the precise region whence the movements had
their first start is in the very highest degree unlikely: and
in the mean time it is better candidly to confess our ignorance than to try to hold with confidence an opinion resting
upon grounds altogether insufficient and untenable. At any
rate, we ought fully to acknowledge that linguistic science,
as such, does not presume to decide whether the Indo.'
European home was in Europe or in Asia: the utmost that
she does is to set up certain faint and general probabilities,
which, combined with the natural conditions of soil and
climate, the traditions of other races, and the direction of
the grand movements of population in later times, point to




v.]         IN30-EUROPEAN UNITY UNKNOWN.            205
the East rather than the West as the starting-point of
migration.
If the question of place must thus be left unsettled, that
of time is not less uncertain. The geologist makes hitherto
but lame and blundering work of establishing an absolute
chronology for even the latest alterations of the earth-crust;
and the student of language is compelled to found his estimates
upon data not less scanty and questionable. The strata of
human speech laid down in past ages have suffered most
sweeping and irrestorable denudation, and their rate of
growth during our present period is too greatly varying to
furnish us any safe standard of general application.  But to
set a date lower than three thousand years before Christ for
the dispersion of the Indo-European family would doubtless
be altogether inadmissible; and the event is most likely to
have taken place far earlier. Late discoveries are showing
us that the antiquity of the human race upon the earth must
be much greater than has been generally supposed.  Vistas
of wonderful interest are opened here, down which we can
only catch glimpses; but the comparative brevity of the
period covered by human records must make us modest
about claiming that we shall ever understand much about
ultimate beginnings, the first origin of races.
As regards, however, the grade of civilizatio.n and mode of
life of the Indo-European mother-trioe Lefore its separation
into branches, the study of language is in condition to give
us more definite and trustworthy information. It is evidently within our power to restore, 0 a certain extent, the
original vocabulary of the tribe, out f the later vocabularies
of the different branches.  These are -composed of words of
every age, from the most recent to the most primitive. As
the principal features of grammatical structure were struck
out before the dispersion, and are yet traceable by the com1arat; ye philologist amid the host of newer formations which
asgu-round them, so was it also with the developed material of
speech, with the names for such objects, and acts, and pro.
cesses, and products, as the community had already found
occasion, and acquired power, to express: they constituted




206              GRADE OF CULTURE OF              [LENC
the linguistic patrimony with which each branch commenced
its separate history, and may still be seen among the stores
of more recent acquisition.  Any word which is found in the
possession of all or nearly all the branches is, unless there be
special reasons to the contrary, to be plausibly regarded as'having formed part of their common inheritance from the
time of their unity.  A vocabulary constructed of words
thus hunted out can be, indeed, but an imperfect one, since
no one can tell what proportion of the primitive tongue may
have become altogether lost, or changed by phonetic corrup.
tion past possibility of recognition, in the later dialects of so
many branches that its true character is no longer discoverable: but, if the list be drawn up with due skill and care,
it may be depended upon as far as it goes. And as, from the
stock of words composing any existing or recorded language,
we can directly draw important conclusions respecting the
knowledge, circumstances, and manners of the people who
speak it, so we can do the same thing with the fragment of
Indo-European speech which we shall have thus set up. It
is obvious, too, that the results of such an investigation
must be more satisfactory, the more primitive and unlettered
the people respecting which it is made, the more exclusively
native in origin and restricted in scope their civilization. A
language like our own is an immense encyclopedia, as it
were, in which are lid? away the cognitions and experiences
of a whole world, and of numerous generations; it is as manysided, as cosmopolitan, as hard to grasp and interpret in
detail, as is our culture i, while the tongue of a rude and
isolated tribe-like tly Fuegians, the Fijians, the Eskimos
-would be a compx. Jively plain and legible portraiture of
its condition and character.
Some of the main results of the investigation made by
means of language into the primitive state of that tribe which
spoke the mother-tongue of the Indo-European family have
been long since drawn out, and are already become the
commonplaces of ethnological science.  The subject is far
from being yet exhausted, and we may look forward to much
greater confidence of conclusion and definiteness of detail,
when all the languages of the family shall have been more




V.1        THE INDO-EUROPEAN MOTHER-TRIBE.          207
thoroughly compared and analyzed, and especially when the
establishment of a true scheme of degrees of relationship
among the branches shall reduce the doubt now thrown over
the primitiveness of a term by its absence from the languages
of some among them.
By this kind of research, then, it is found that the primitive tribe which spoke the mother-tongue of the Indo.
European family was not nomadic alone, but had settled
habitations, even towns and fortified places, and addicted
itself in part to the rearing of cattle, in part to the cultivation
of the earth.  It possessed our chief domestic animals-the
horse, the ox, the sheep, the goat, and the swine, besides the
dog: the bear and the wolf were foes that ravaged its flocks;
the mouse and fly were already its domestic pests.  The
region it inhabited was a varied one, not bordering upon the
ocean. The season whose name has been most persistent is
the winter. Barley, and perhaps also wheat, was raised for
food, and converted into meal. Mead was prepared from
honey, as a cheering and inebriating drink. The use of
certain metals was known; whether iron was one of them
admits of question.  The art of weaving was practised; wool
and hemp, and possibly flax, being the materials employed.
Of other branches of domestic industry, little that is definite
can be said; but those already mentioned imply a variety of
others as coordinate or auxiliary to them.  The weapons of
offence and defence were those which are usual among
primitive peoples, the sword, spear, bow, and shield. Boats
were manufactured, and moved by oars. Of extended and
elaborate political organization no traces are discoverable:
the people was doubtless a congeries of petty tribes, under
chiefs and leaders, rather than kings, and with institutions of
a patriarchal cast, among which the reduction to servitude of
prisoners taken in war appears not to have been wanting.
The structure and relations of the family are more clearly
seen; names of its members, even to the second and third
degrees of consanguinity and affinity, were already fixed, and
were significant of affectionate regard and trustful interde.
pendence. That woman was looked down upon, as a being
in capacity and dignity inferior to man, we find no indication




208        ORIGINAL INDO-EUROPEAN CULTURE.
whatever  The art of numeration was learned, at least up to
a hundred; there is no general Indo-European word for'thousand.' Some of the stars were noticed and named:
the moon was the chief measurer of time. The religion was
polytheistic, a worship of the personified powers of nature.
Its rites, whatever they were, were practised without the aid
of a priesthood.
Such, in briefest possible description, was the simple people
from whom appear to have descended those mighty nations
who have now long been the leaders of the world's civilization. Of their classification, their importance in history, arnd
the value of their languages to linguistic science, we shall
treat further in the next lecture.




LECTURE VI.
anguages and literatures of the Germanic, Slavonic, Lithuanic, Ce(I,t
Italic, Greek, Iranian, and Indian branches of Indo-European speech.
Interest of the family and its study; historical importance of the Indo.
European races; their languages the basis of linguistic science.
Method of linguistic research. Comparative philology. Errors of
linguistic method or its application.
OUR consideration of the processes of linguistic growth,
and of their effects upon the condition of language and the
rise of discordant tongues, was brought to a close in the
preceding lecture with a brief discussion of certain erroneous views respecting original dialectic variety, and the
influence exerted upon it by literary and grammatical culti.
vation. We then looked to see how and how far the principles which we had established could be applied to explain
the seemingly infinite confusion of tongues now prevailing
upon the earth, and to facilitate their classification and
reduction to order. This led us to a recognition of our own
language as one of a group of nearly related dialects, the
Germanic group; and, on inquiring farther, we found that
this was itself a member of a wider family, embracing nearly
all the tongues of Europe, with a part of those of Asia, and
divided into seven principal branches: namely, the Indian,
the  Iranian, the  Greek, the Latin, the  Germanic, the
Slavonic (including the Lithuanic, sometimes reckoned as a
separate branch), and the Celtic.  We called it the IndoEuropean family. At some place and time, which we were
obliged to confess ourselves unable to determine with any
14




210                MEMBEBS OF THE               [LECT.
even tolerable degree of confidence-but more probably in
Asia, and certainly not less than three thousand years before
Christ-and in a condition of civilization respecting which
the evidence of language furnished us valuable hints, some
single community had spoken a single tongue, from which
all these others were descended, in accordance with the
universal laws of linguistic tradition, by processes which are
still active in every part of human speech. And now, waiving for a while the question whether it may not be possible
to regard the great Indo-European family itself as only a
member of a yet vaster family, including all or nearly all the
languages of the human race, we have, in the present lecture,
to review more in detail its constitution, to note the period
aifd locality of its constituent members, to glance at the special
historical importance attaching to them and to the peoples
who speak them, to set forth their value as the fundamental material of linguistic science, and to examine anew
and more systematically the general method of linguistic
research, as established upon their study.
We may best commence our survey of the varieties of
Indo-European speech with our own branch, the Germanic.
Its existing dialects, as has been already pointed out, are
divided into three groups or sub-branches: 1, the Low-Ger.
man, occupying northern Germany and the Netherlands,
with their colony Britain, and with the numerous and
widely-scattered modern colonies of Britain; 2, the HighGerman, in central and southern Germany; 3, the Scandinavian, in Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland.  Of the
Low-German group, the English is by far the most important
member; its eventful history, illustrated at every step by
valuable literary documents, we trace back, through Middle
English (A.D. 1350-1550), Old English (A.D. 1250-1350), and
Semi-Saxon (A.D. 1150-1250), to the Anglo-Saxon, which
reaches into the seventh century of our era, possessing an anti.
quity exce6ded by only one other Germanic dialect. Its
earliest monuments, in their style and metre, and at least one
of them, the Beowulf, in subject and substance also, carry us
back to the pre-Christian period of Germanic history.  We
cannot delay here to enter into any detailed examination




vI.]                GERMANIC BRANCH.                    211
of the character and changes of English speech, interesting
and instructive as such a task would be; save so far as they
have been and may hereafter be brought in by way of illus.
tration of general linguistic laws, they must be left to more
special treatises.*
Next of kin with the Anglo-Saxon, or oldest form of Eng.
lish, are the ancient Frisian, of the northern sea-coast of
Germany, which had, in the fourteenth century and later,
a literature of its own, of juridical content, composed in
an idiom of form little less antique than Old High-German,
notwithstanding its comparatively modern date - and the
Old Saxon, the principal language of northern Germany between the Rhine and the Elbe, represented to iis by but
a single work, the Heliand or'Saviour,' a poetical life of
Christ, probably of the ninth century.  Both Saxon and
Frisian have been almost wholly crowded out of cultivated
use in modern times, as was explained in a former lecture
(see p. 164), by the overpowering influence of the High
German, and their domain has also been encroached upon by
other dialects of the same kindred, so that they survive
at present only as insignificant popular patois. Nothing but
the political independence of Holland has saved its peculiar
speech from the same fate: the literary cultivation of the
Netherlandish or Dutch can be traced back to the thirteenth
century, although dating chiefly from the sixteenth, the era
of the country's terrible struggle against the political tyranny
of Spain. The Flemish, the closely allied idiom of Flanders,
has its own separate records, of about the same antiquity,
but is now nearly extinct.
The history of High-German  speech  was succinctly
sketched in connection with our inquiries into the rise and
extension of literary dialects.  It falls into three periods.
The first period is that of the Old High-German (Althochdeutsch), from the eighth to the twelfth century; its monuments are tolerably abundant, but, with trifling exceptions, of
Christian origin and religious content: they represent three
* See the works of Marsh, Craik, and others; and especially, for a clear and
succinct view of the history and connections of English speech, with grammatical analyses and illustrative specimens, the work of Professor Hadley,
already once -eferred to, on p. 84.
14 




212                MEIMBERS OF THE              [LECT,
principal sub-dialects, the Frankish, the Alemannic and
Swabian, and the Bavarian and Austrian.  The second
period, that of the Middle High-German (_2ittelhochdeutsch),
covers about four centuries, beginning with the twelfth and
ending with the fifteenth; its ruling dialect is the Swabian;
and its rich literature hands down to us valuable productions
of the poetical fancy of the times, in the lyric verses of the
Minnesingers, and precious memorials of ancient German
national tradition, in the heroic legends (Heldensagen). The
foremost work of the latter class, the Lay of the Nibelungen
(Nibelungenlied), is one of the noblest epics which any country has produced, in any age of the world. Of the language
and literature of the New High-German period, from early
in the sixteenth century to our own times-the " German "
language and literature, as we are accustomed to call itthere is no need that I speak more particularly.
The third subdivision of the Germanic branch is the
Scandinavian. Its earliest monuments come to us from Ice.
land, that far-off and inhospitable island of volcanoes, boiling
springs, and ice-fields, which, settled in the ninth century by
refugees from Norway, long continued a free colony, a home
of literary culture and legendary song. Christianity, more
tolerant there than elsewhere on Germanic soil, did not sweep
from existence the records of ancient religion and customs.
The two Eddas, gathered or preserved to us from the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries, are, in virtue of their tone and
content, by far the most primitive works in the whole circle
of the Germanic literatures, documents of priceless value for
the antiquity of the Germanic race. Their language also,
though of so much more recent date than the oldest AngloSaxon and High-German, is not exceeded by either in respect
to the primitiveness of its phonetic and grammatical form.
Nor has it greatly changed during the six or seven centuries
which have elapsed since the compilation of the Eddas. The
modern Icelandic is still, among all the existing Germanic
tongues, the one that has preserved and possesses the most
of that original structure which once belonged to them all
alike. Three other dialects, the Norwegian, the Swedish,
and the Danisn, constitute along with it the Scandinavian




vI.               GOERMANIC BRANCH.                213
group, and are languages of literary culture.  They are not
direct descendants of the " Old Norse" tongue, as the ancient
Icelandic is usually called: the Norwegian comes nearest to
being so; the others represent more ancient dialectic divi.
sions of Scandinavian speech.
How many other Germanic branches, originally coordinate
with the three we have described, once had existence, but
have become extinct in later times, by the extinction of the
communities who spoke them, we have not, nor shall we ever
have, any means of knowing. But of one such, at least,
most precious remains have escaped the general destruction
of the nationality to which it belonged. One portion of
the western division of the great and famous Gothic nation
crossed the lower Danube, some time in the early part of the
fourth century, and settled in the Roman province of Mcesia,
as subjects of the empire and as Christians. For them,
their bishop and leader, Ulfilas, later in the same century,
made a translation into their own vernacular of nearly the
whole Bible, writing it in an alphabet of his own devising,
founded on the Greek. Five hundred years afterward, the
Gothic was everywhere an extinct tongue; but considerable
portions of the Gothic Scriptures-namely, a part of the
Gospels, Paul's epistles nearly complete, and fragments of
the Old Testament-are happily still preserved, in a single
manuscript of the fifth century, now at Upsala, in Sweden.
Scanty as these relics may be, they are of inestimable value
in illustrating the history of the whole Germanic branch of
Indo-European language, and bridging over the distance
which separates it from the other branches.  For, as in time,
so still more notably in material and structure, their idiom
is much the most ancient of all the varied forms of Germanic
speech: it is not, indeed, the mother of the rest, nor of any
among them; but it is their eldest sister, and fully entitled
to claim the place of head of their family.
The Slavonian branch-to which, on account of its local
vicinity, as well as its probable nearer relationship, to the
Germanic, we next turn our attention-need not occupy us
long. It is of much less interest to us, because of its greater
remoteness from our race and from our knowledge, its inferior




214              THE SLAVONIC BRANCH.              [LUFT
historical importance and literary value, and its more modern
appearance.* The oldest of its dialects in date, and, in nearly
all respects, the most primitive in form, is the language of
the ancient Bulgarians, into which their apostle Cyril translated the Scriptures, now just about a thousand years ago.
It is a curious coincidence that our knowledge of both Germanic and Slavonic speech thus begins, like that of many a
rude and hitherto unlettered dialect in the hands of missionaries at the present day, with a Bible version, and at nearly
the same geographical locality; the kingdom of the Bulgarians
having followed that of the Goths on the southern bank of
the lower Danube.  But this ancient idiom-from which the
modern Bulgarian differs greatly, having changed with
unusual rapidity in the interval-is more commonly called the
Old Slavonic, or the Church Slavic, having been adopted by
a large part of the Slavonian races as their sacred language
and being still employed as such, within the ecclesiastical
limits of the Greek Church. It belongs to what is known as
the south-eastern section of the Slavonic branch. By far the
most importgnt of the other languages in the same section is
the Russian, in its two divisions, the Russian proper and the
Little-Russian, or Ruthenian.  The Russian is in our day a
literary language of considerable importance; its forms are
traceable, in scanty documents, back into the eleventh century.
In its cultivated development, it has been strongly influenced
by the Church Slavonic. The south-eastern section further
includes the Servian, with its closely related dialect, the
Kroatian, and the Slovenian of Carinthia and Styria.
Specimens of these tongues are as old as the tenth, or even
the ninth, century. The Servian has an interesting modern
literature of popular songs.
To the other section, the western, belong the Polish, the
Bohemian with the related Moravian and Slovakian, the
upper and lower Sorbian, and the Polabian, on the Elbe. Of
these, the Bohemian is the oldest, having monuments probably
of the tenth century. Polish literature begins in the four* In sketching the relations of the Slavonic languages, I follow the
authority of Professor August Schleicher, in the Beitrige zur Vergleichender
Sprachtbrschung, vol. i., p. 1 seq.




71.]            THE LITHUANIO GROUP.              215
teenth century, since, down to that time, the cultivated of
the nation had written wholly in Latin. The others can
show nothing older than the sixteenth century, and are of
little consequence in any aspect.
The Lithuanic or Lettic group of dialects is sometimes
treated as a subdivision of the Slavonic, and sometimes-per.
haps with better reason-as a separate branch, coordinate
with the other, although very closely related to it. It is of
very slight historical or literary importance: its interest lies
chiefly in the fact that, under the operation of causes in its
history which are yet unexplained and probably unexplainable, it has preserved many of the original forms of IndoEuropean speech in a more uncorrupted condition than any
other known dialect of the whole family which is not as much
as two thousand years older. It is composed of only three
dialects, one of which, the Old Prussian, the original language of the inhabitants of north-eastern Prussia, has been
extinct for two hundred years, crowded out of existence by
the Low-German, and leaving behind, as its only monument,
a brief catechism.  The other two, the Lithuanian and the
Lettish, or Livonian, are still spoken by a million or two of
people in the Russian and Prussian provinces bordering on
the Baltic, but seem destined to give way helplessly before
the encroachments of the German and Russian, and to share
one day the fate of their sister-dialect. The oldest Lithuanian document dates from the middle of the sixteenth century.  The southern or Itigh Lithuanian is of most antique
form; the Low Lithuanian, and yet more notably the Lettish
to the north, show a less remarkable conservation of ancient
material.
The Celtic languages, as was pointed out in the last lecture, have been well-nigh extinguished by the Romanic and
Germanic tongues, and now only lurk in the remotest and
most inaccessible corners of the wide territory which they
once occupied in Europe. The Scotch Highlands, the wildest
parts of Ireland, the Isle of Man, the mountains of Wales,
the rough glens of Cornwall, and the land lying nearest to
Cornwall across the British Channel, the promontory of
Brittany, are the only regions where, for many centuries




216                MEMBERS OF THE                LECT,
past, Celtic speech has been heard. The Cornish, too, has
become extinct within the memory of the present generation;
the Irish is rapidly on its way to the same fate; the Gaelic
will not survive the complete taming and civilization of the
Highlands; the French is likely to crowd out the patois of
the Breton peasant; and it is greatly to be doubted whether
even the Welsh people, passionate as is the attachment with
which at present they cling to their peculiar speech, will
continue always to refuse the advantages that would accrue
to them from its relinquishment, and a more thorough fusion
with the greater community of speakers of English to which
they form an adjunct. There has never been a homogeneous,
independent, and cultivated Celtic state, capable of protecting its idiom from the encroachment of other tongues; and
only such protection, now unattainable, can, as it seems, save
Celtic speech from utter extinction.
There is no small difficulty in treating satisfactorily the
documents which illustrate the history of the Celtic languages, owing to the prevalence of a peculiar and stronglymarked linguistic disease, well known among philologists as
"Celtomania," which has been very apt to attack students of
the subject-especially such as were of Celtic extraction, but
in some degree foreigners also-leading them wildly to exaggerate the antiquity and importance of the Celtic civilization, language, and literature. We have had Celtic set up
as the most primitive and uncorrupted of tongues, spoken by
generations long anterior to the oldest worthies whom history,
sacred or profane, recognizes, and furnishing the only sure
foundation to universal etymology; we have had ancient inscriptions and difficult texts, of the most diverse origin and
distant locality, explained out of Celtic into high-sounding
phrases, of true Ossianic ring; we have had the obscure
words of various languages traced to Celtic roots, provided
with genealogies from an Irish or Welsh ancestor-and much
more of the same sort. Sober and unprejudiced inquiry cuts
down these claims to greatly reduced, though still respectable, dimensions.
So completely were the Gaulish dialects of northern Italy,
France, and Spain wiped out by the Latin, so few traces of




VT]                 CELTIC BRANCH.                  217
them are left to us, either in the later idioms of the Latin or
in fragments of writfings, inscriptions, and coins, that it is
still a matter of doubt; and question among Celtic scholars to
which of the known divisions of Celtic speech, the Gadhelic
or the Cymric, they belonged, or whether they did not constitute a third division, coordinate with these.  Aside front
the exceedingly scanty and obscure  Gallic  epigraphical
monuments, and the few single words preserved in classic
authors, the earliest records, both of Irish and Welsh speech,
are glosses, or interlinear and marginal versions and comments, written by Celtic scholars upon manuscripts which
they were studying, in old times when Wales and Ireland,
especially the latter, were centres of a lively literary and
Christian activity. Of these glosses, the Irish are by far the
most abundant, and afford a tolerably distinct idea of what
the language was at about the end of the eighth century.
There is also an independent literary work, a life of Saint
Patrick, which is supposed to belong to the beginning of the
ninth century. The other principal Gadhelic dialect, the
Scotch Gaelic, presents us a few songs that claim to be of the
sixteenth century. The Ossianic poems, which excited such
attention a hundred years ago, and whose genuineness and
value have been the subject of so lively discussion, are probably built upon only a narrow foundation of real Gaelic
tradition.
In the Cymric division, the Welsh glosses, just referred
to, are the oldest monuments of definite date. Though
hardly, if at all, less ancient than the Irish, coming down
from somewhere between the eighth and the tenth centuries,
they are very much more scanty in amount, hardly sufficient
to do more than disprove the supposed antiquity cf the
earliest monuments of the language that possess a proper
literary character. For long centuries past, the Welsh bards
have sung in spirit-stirring strains the glories and the woes
of their race; and it is claimed that during much more than
a thousand years, or ever since the sixth century, the era of
Saxon invasion and conquest, some of their songs have been
handed down from generation to generation, by a careful
and uninterrupted tradition. And the claim is probably well




218                MEMBERS OF THE                 [LECT,
founded: only it is also pretty certain that, as they have
been handed down, they have been modernized in diction,
so that, in their present form, they represent to us the
Welsh language of a time not much preceding the date of
the oldest manuscripts, or of the twelfth to the fourteenth
centuries. The later Welsh literature, as well as the Irish,
is abundant in'quantity. The Cornish, also, has a tolerably
copious literature of not far from the same age; its earliest
monument, a Latin-Cornish vocabulary, may be as old as the
twelfth century. The language of Brittany, the Armorican
-which is so closely allied with the two last-mentioned that
it cannot well be regarded as a remnant and representative
of the Celtic dialects of Gaul, but must rather belong to
colonists or fugitives from Britain —is recorded in one or
two brief works going back to the fourteenth century, or
even farther.
We come next to the Romanic branch, as we have called
it when briefly noticing its history at an earlier point in our
discussions. Of the languages which compose it, and whose
separate currents of linguistic tradition we trace backward
until they converge and meet in the Latin, two, the RhaetoRomanic in southern Switzerland and at the head of the
Adriatic, and the Wallachian of the northern provinces of
Turkey, have no literature of any antiquity or independent
value.  The other five-the Italian, French, Provencal,
Spanish, and Portuguese —all emerged out of the condition
of vulgar patois, and began to take on the character of
national cultivated languages, at not far from the same time,
or in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. There
are fragments of French texts dating from the tenth century,
but the early French literature, abundant and various, and,
in its romances, attaining a wonderfully sudden and general
popularity throughout cultivated Europe, belongs to the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries.  The Provengal poetry,
consisting of the songs of the troubadours, whose chief
activity was displayed at the court of Toulouse, in southern.
most France, was wholly lyrical in form, and amatory or
satirical in content: it finished its brilliant but brief career,
of about three hundrcd years, in the fourteenth century. T.e




W.]  ROMANIC OR ITALIC BRANCH.                    219
culture of Italians begins at the court of Frederic II., about
A.D. 1200, and within a century and a half of that time lived,
sang, and narrated the three greatest writers of Italy-Dante
(ob. 1321), Petrarch (ob. 1374), and Boccaccio (ob. 1375).
The Spanish heroic legend commences in the twelfth century;
and there are monuments of Portuguese speech of about
the same time.  Among these languages, the French is that
which has undergone most change during the historical
period; the oldest French and Provengal form a kind of
middle term between the modern language and the ancient
Latin, illustrating the transition from the latter to the
former.
But if we have called the branch of Indo-European speech
to which these tongues belong the Romanic, we have done so
out of regard to its later history and present constitution,
and not altogether properly.  To the student of IndoEuropean philology, these are the recent branchings of a
single known stock, the Latin; to trace their development
is a task of the highest interest, a whole linguistic school in
itself; they furnish rich and abundant illustration of all the
processes of linguistic growth: but, as regards any direct
bearing upon the history of Indo-European speech, they have
value only through the Latin, their common parent. The
remoter relations of the Latin itself receive light from various
sources. In its familiar classic form, it represents to us the
speech of the learned and educated Romans of a century or
two before the Christian era; it is somewhat refined by
literary culture from the diction of the oldest authors whose
works have come down to us, in fragments or entire-as
Livius Andronicus, Plautus, Terence-and is far more notably
changed from the language of earlier:Roman times-as is
shown by the yet extant monuments, like the inscription on
the Duilian column (about B.C. 260), that on the sarcophagus
of a founder of the Scipio family (a little older than the last
mentioned), and especially the Salian hymn and song of the
fratres arvales, of yet earlier but uncertain date, in which
the best Latin scholar would find himself wholly at fault
without the traditional interpretation which is handed down
along with them: in these monuments is preserved to us




220               THE ITALIC BRANCH.             [LECT.
many al antique form, giving valuable hints respecting the
grammatical and phonetic development of the language.
Their evidence is supplemented in a very important manner
by that of other kindred Italian dialects. The Oscan or
Opican of southern Italy was the language of the Samnites
and their allies, from whose hands Rome wrung after a
severe and often doubtful struggle the dominion of the peninsula: it was not disused as the official speech of some of
the southern provinces until less than a hundred years before
Christ; and coins and inscriptions dating from the two or
three preceding centuries still teach us something of its
structure and character.  The UTmbrian, the tongue of
north-eastern Italy, is yet more fully represented to us by
the Euguvine tablets, inscribed with the prayers and ceremonial rules of a fraternity of priests, and supposed to be as
old as the third and fourth centuries before our era. Of the
Volscian dialect, also, and the Sabine or Sabellian-tho
former being more akin with the Umbrian, the latter with
the Latin-some exceedingly scanty relics have been discovered. The interpretation and comprehension of all these
— resting, as it does, solely upon comparison with the Latin
and other more distantly related tongue —is at present, and
is likely always to remain, incomplete and doubtful; but
they, are of essential importance, both in explaining some of
the peculiarities of the Latin, and in fixing its position as
one of a group of kindred dialects occupying the greater
portion of the Italian peninsula, and hence most suitably to
be denominated the Italic group. The theory that the Latin
was produced by a mixture of somewhat discordant elements
-of Roman, Sabine, and Oscan; or of these and Etruscan
-brought together by historical circumstances, and finally
fused into homogeneousness, is one which belonged to a
former stage of linguistic science, and is now rejected as
uncalled-for and groundless.  Yet more untenable, and
wanting even a semblance of foundation, is the derivation of
Latin from Greek, a favourite dogma of times not long past
but at present abandoned by every comparative philologist
whose opinion is of the slightest value.
In the G0reek language, we reach an antiquity in the




VI.]              THE GREEK BRANCH.                 221
recorded history of Indo-European speech considerably higher
than we have anywhere else attained.  The exact date of its
earliest monuments, the grand and unrivalled poems of
Homer, the Iliad and Odyssey, cannot, it is true, be de.
termined; but they go back, doubtless, to near the beginning
of the thousand years before Christ's birth.  From  the
different parts of Greece, too, as of Italy, we have received
records of dialects that subsisted side by side through all the
earlier periods of the country's history, until at length (about
B.C. 300) the political importance and superior literature of
Athens made her idiom, the later Attic, the common language  of cultivated  Greeks everywhere.   The  earlier
Attic is found first in the writings of the great dramatists,
beginning about five centuries before Christ: it is more
nearly akin with the earlier Ionic of Homer and Hesiod (before 700 B.c.), and the later Ionic of Herodotus (about 400
B.C.), than with the Doric of Alcman, Pindar, and Theocritus
(600-2.50 B.c.), or the AEolic of Alceeus and Sappho (about
600 B.c.).  The differences of the Greek dialects are quite
insignificant as compared with those of the Italic, yet they
are of no small service to the historical student of the Greek
language, since each brings to his knowledge some elements
less corrupted and modernized than are to be found in the
others, or in the later common tongue.
The modern Greek has also its dialects, respecting which
little is known in detail; and it has, besides, its common
tongue, the Romaic (as it is ordinarily styled), spoken and
written by all the educated Greeks of the present day. This
Romaic is very much less altered from the ancient classic
language, as spoken by Plato and Demosthenes, than are the
modern Romanic languages from the speech of Virgil and
Cicero.  The difference of the two is even so slight that
a party in Greece are now engaged in making the somewhat
pedantic and utopian effort to eliminate it altogether, to
make the turbulent population of the present petty and insignificant kingdom talk and write as did their heroic forefathers, when, though feeble in numbers, they were the foremost community of the world.  Small result is to be looked
for from this experiment; should it prove successful, it will




222                 MEMBERS OF THE                [LZCT.
be the first time that such a thing has beea accomplished in
all the history of language.
Of the Asiatic branches of our family, the one which lies
nearest us, the Iranian, or Persian, may first engage our attention. Its oldest monuments of well-determined date are the
inscriptions —cut on the surface of immense walls of living
rock, in the so-called cuneiform characters —by which the
Achwamenidan sovereigns of Persia, Darius, Xerxes, and their
successors, made imperishable record for posterity of their
names and deeds. Fifty years ago, these inscriptions were
an unsolved and apparently insoluble enigma; now, by a
miracle of human ingenuity and patience, not without the
aid of a combination of favouring circumstances wholly impossible at any earlier period, almost every word and every
character is fully laid open to our comprehension, and they
have been made to yield results of great value both to
linguistic and to national history. The oldest of them come
from a time about five centuries before Christ, and their extent is sufficient to give us a very distinct idea of the lan.
guage of those Persians against whom the Greeks so long
fought, first for independence, then for empire.
Of about the same age, and even, probably, in part considerably older, are the sacred Scriptures of the religion
established by Zoroaster (in his own tongue, Zarathustra) —
the book called the Avesta, or Zend-Avesta. The dialect in
which these writings are composed goes usually by the name
of the Zend; it is also styled the Avestan, and sometimes
the Old Bactrian, from the country Bactria, the north-easternmost region of the great Iranian territory, which is supposed
to have been its specific locality. They have been preserved
to us by the Parsis of western India, who fled thither from
their native country after its reduction under Mohammedan
vassalage in the seventh century of our era, and who have
ever since faithfully maintained, under Hindu and British
protection, the rites of the Magian faith, the pure worship
of Ormuzd (Ahura-Jlazda,' the mighty spirit') through the
symbol of fire. The Avesta shows two dialects, a younger
and an older; some of its hymns and prayers possibly go
back to the time of Zoroaster himself-whatever that may




VI.]               IRANIAN BRANCH.                 223
have been: it was doubtless more than a thousand years, at
least, before Christ-but the bulk of the work is considerably
later. Accompanying the Avesta is a version of it, made for
the use of the priests, in another and much more- modern
Iranian dialect, the Pehlevi or Huzvaresh, supposed to have
been the literary language of the westernmost provinces of
Iran at a period some centuries later than the Christian era,
and much mixed with materials derived from the Semitic
tongues lyving next westward, across the border. A few inscriptions and legends of coins, of the early Sassanian
monarchs (after A.D. 226), furnish further specimens of the
same or a nearly kindred dialect.
The general body of religious literature belonging to the
Parsis of India contains tolerably copious documents of a
somewhat younger and much purer Iranian dialect, usually
styled the Parsi (sometimes also the Pazend). It comes,
without much question, from a more eastern locality than
the Pehlevi, and from a time nearly approaching that of the
Mohammedan conquest.  Finally, after the conquest, and
when Persia was thoroughly made over into a province of
the Moslem empire, arises, in the tenth century, the modern
Persian, and becomes during several centuries, and even to
our own day, the vehicle of an abundant and admirable
literature, rich in every department, in poetry, fiction, history,
philosophy, science.  Its first great work, and almost or
quite the greatest it has to offer us, is the Shah-Nameh,' Book of Kings,' of Firdusi (ob. 1020), a true national epic,
grand in extent, noble in style, varied in contents, in which
is summed up and related at length the history of the land,
traditional, legendary, and mythological, as it lay in the
minds of the generation by whom was revived the ancient
independence and glory of the Persian nationality. For the
impoverishment of its grammar by the loss of ancient forms,
the modern Persian is almost comparable with the English.
It is more nearly related to the language of the Achbemenidan inscriptions than to that of the Avesta, although not
the lineal descendant and representative of either.  In its
later literary use, it is greatly disfigured by the unlimited
introduction of words from the Arabic vocabulary.




224                 MEMBERS OF THE                fLECT.
There are several other languages, in regions bordering on
or included within the Iranian territory, which stand in such
relations with those we have been describing as to be ranked
in the same class, although their Iranian attributes are
greatly obscured by the changes which have passed upon
them since their separation from the principal stock. By
far the most important of these is the Armenian, with an
abundant literature going back to the fifth century, the era
of the Christianization of the Armenian people. Others are
the Ossetic, in the Caucasus; the Kurdish, the dialect of the
wild mountaineers of the border lands between Persia, Turkey,
and Russia; and the Afghan or Pushto, which in very recent
times has enjoyed a certain degree of literary cultivation.
We come, finally, to that member of our family which has
lived its life within the borders of India.  Not all the nu.
merous dialects which fill this immense peninsula, between
the impassable wall of the Himalayas and the Indian ocean,
own kindred with the Indo-European tongues, but only those
of its northern portion, of Hindustan proper, ranging from
the Indus to the mouths of the Ganges, together with a
certain extent of the sea-coast and its neighbourhood stretching southward on either side.  The central mountainous
region and the table-lands of the Dekhan yet belong to the
aboriginal tribes, who in the north were crowded out or
subjugated, at a period lying only just beyond the ken of
recorded history, by the Indo-European races, as they intruded themselves through the avenue, the passes on the
north-western frontier, by which the conquerors of India
have in all ages found entrance.  The principal modern
dialects of our kindred are the Hindi, Bengali, and Mlahratta,
each with various subdivisions, and each with a literature of
its own, running back only a few centuries. The Hindustani,
or Urdu, is a form of the Hindi which grew up in the camps
('Urd'l) of the Mohammedan conquerors of India, since the
eleventh century, as medium of communication between them
and the subject population of central Hindustan, more
corrupted in form, and filled with Persian and Arabic wordis
— being thus, as it were, the English of India: it has enjoyed
more literary cultivation than any other of the recent dialectN




vI.]               InDIAN BRANCH.                   225
and is the lingtna franca, the official language and means of
general intercourse, throughout nearly the whole peninsula.
The tongue of the roving Gypsies all over Europe, though
everywhere strongly tinged with the local idiom of the region
of their wanderings, is in its main structure and material a
modern Hindu patois: the Gypsies are exiles from India.
Next older than the languages we have mentioned are the
Prakrit and the Pali, represented by a literature and inscrip.
tions which come to us in part from before the Christian era.
The Pali is the sacred language of the Buddhist religion in
the countries lying eastward and south-eastward from India.
The Prakrit dialects are chiefly preserved in the Sanskrit
dramas, where the unlearned characters, the women, servants,
and the like, talk Prakrit —just as, in a modern German
theatre, one may hear the lower personages talk the dialects
of their own districts, while the higher employ the literary
German, the common speech of the educated throughout the
country.
The virtual mother of all these dialects is the Sanskrit.
For the last twenty-five centuries, at least, the Sanskrit has
been no longer a proper vernacular language, but kept artificially in life, as the sacred dialect of Brahmanism and the
cultivated tongue of literature and learning; thus occupying
a position closely analogous with that held by the Latin
since the decline of the western empire, as the language of
Roman Catholicism, and the means of communication among
the learned of all Europe. It is still taught in the schools
of the Brahmanic priesthood; used in the ceremonies of their
religion, and spoken and written by their foremost scholars
-although, like the Latin in more recent times, much
shaken in its sway by the uprise of the modern cultivated
dialects, and the decadence of the religion with whose uses it
is identified. We possess it in two somewhat varying forms,
the classical Sanskrit, and the older idiom of the so-called
Vedas, the Bible of the Hindu faith. The former is more
altered, by elaborate and long-continued literary and grammatical training, from the condition of a true vernacular, than
is almost any other known literary language. Partly for
this reason, and partly because, at the time of its establish.
15




226             THE SANSKRIT LANGUAGE.            [LECT.
ment and fixation as the learned tongue of all Aryan India,
it must have been one among a number of somewhat differ.
ing local varieties of Aryan speech, whose differences form a
part of the discordance of the later dialects, I have called it
above rather their virtual than their actual progenitor: it
represents very closely the primitive stock out of which they
have all grown, by varying internal development, and by
varying influence and admixture of foreign tongues.  When
and where it was at first a spoken dialect, is out of our
power to determine; but it cannot well be regarded as of
less age than the earliest Greek records; and it is probably
older by centuries. It possesses a most abundant literature,
in nearly every department save history; its religious and
ethical poetry, its epics, its lyric flights, its dramas, its systems of philosophy and grammar, have been found worthy of
high admiration and of profound study by Western scholars;
they have even been ranked by some, though very unjustly,
as superior to the masterpieces of the Greek and Latin
literatures. To fix the chronology of its separate works is a
task of the extremest difficulty; but some of them, even in
their present form, and the substance of many others, certainly come from a time considerably anterior to the Christian era.
The Vedic dialect is yet more ancient; the earliest portions of the oldest collection, the Rig-Veda (' Veda of hymns'),
must, it is believed, date from nearly or quite two thousand
years before Christ.  The considerations from which this age
is deduced for them are of a general and inexact character,
yet tolerably clear in their indications. Thus, for example,
the hymns of the Vedas were chiefly composed on the banks
of the Indus and its tributaries, when the great valley of the
Ganges was as yet unknown to the Aryan immigrants; and
they present the elephant as still a wondered-at and littleknown animal: while the earliest tidings of India which we
have from without show us great kingdoms on the Ganges,
and the elephant reduced to the service of man, both in war
and in peace.  Buddhism, too, which is well known to have
preceded by several centuries the birth of Christ, was a revolt against the oppressive domination of the Brahmanic




VI.]             THE SANSKRIT LANGUAGE.             227
hierarchy; and in the Vedas are to be seen only the germs
of Brahmanism, not yet developed: no hierarchy, no system
of castes, no vestige of the doctrine of transmigration. The
conclusions drawn from a study of the internal history and
connection of the different classes of works composing the
sacred literature of India-which follow one another, in a
close succession of expositions, rules, and comments, from a
time not much later than that of the more recent hymns
down to the historical period —point also to the same age.
The Vedas are thus by not less than a thousand years the
earliest documents for the history of Indo-European language-for the history, moreover, of Indo-European conditions and institutions. The civil constitution, the religious
rites, the mythologic fancies, the manners and customs,
which they depict, have a peculiarly original and primitive
aspect, seeming to exhibit a far nearer likeness to what once
belonged to the whole Indo-European family than is anywhere else to be attained. The Vedas appear rather like an
Indo-European than an Indian record; they are the pro.
perty rather of the whole family than of a single branch.
Much of the same character appertains to the classical
Sanskrit: it is both earlier in chronologic period and more
primitive in internal character than any other language of
the whole great family. Its peculiar value lies in its special
conservation of primitive material and forms, in the tranlspar.
ency of its structure, in its degree of freedom from the corrupting and disguising effects of phonetic change, from
obliteration of original meaning and application. r We must
beware of supposing that at all points, in every item of
structure, it is the superior of the other Indo-European
tongues, or that it constitutes an infallible norm by which
their material is to be judged; on the contrary, each of the
other branches here and there excels it, offering some remains of early Indo-European speech which it has lost; but
to it must be freely conceded the merit of having retained,
out of the common stock, more than any one among them,
almost more than they all. Exaggerated and unfounded
claims are often put forward in its behalf by those who do
rlot fully understand the true sources of its value: its
15 *




229             THE SARNSKRIT LANGUAGE.            [LE.t,
alphabet, though rich and very harmoniously developed,
does not cover more than about two-thirds of our English
system of spoken sounds; as an instrument of the expression
of thought it has very serious and conspicuous defects, being
inferior-especially in its handling of the verb (the soul of
the sentence), in a loose and bald syntactical arrangement,
and in an excessive use of compounds-not only to the
Greek, but to almost every other cultivated Indo-European
tongue; nor (as has been already hinted) can its literature
sustain a moment's comparison with those of the classical
languages. It is to be prized chiefly as a historical document, casting inestimable light upon the earliest development of the common speech of the Indo-European family,
and the relations of its members. Had all its literature besides perished, leaving us only a grammar of its forms and a
dictionary of its material, it would still in a great measure
retain this character; were but a fragment of one of its texts
saved, as has been the case with the Moeso-Gothic, it would
still vindicate its right to a place at the head of all the languages of the family. It may easily be appreciated, then,
what an impulse to the historical study of language, then
just struggling into existence by the comparison of the
tongues of Europe, was given by the discovery and investigation of this new dialect, having a structure that so invited
and facilitated historic analysis, and even presented by the
native grammatical science in an analyzed condition, with
roots, themes, and affixes carefully separated, distinctly catalogued, and defined in meaning and office. In all researches
into the beginnings of Indo-European speech, the genesis of
roots and forms, its assistance is indispensable, and its authority of greatest weight. It often has been and still is
wrongly estimated and misapplied by incautious or ill-in.
structed investigators; it is sometimes treated as if it were
the mother of the Indo-European dialects, as the Latin of the
modern Romanic tongues, instead of merely their eldest sister,
like the Moeso-Gothic among the Germanic languages; it is
unduly brought in to aid the inter-comparison of dialects o1
a single branch, and its peculiar developments, its special
laws of euph bny or construction, aire sought to be forced upon




VI.1    IMPORTANCE OF INDO- EUROPEAN LANGUA'TGE.    229
them; the facts it presents are erroneously accepted ace ulti.
mate, cutting off further inquiry; portions of its existing
material which are of modern growth, or the artificial productions of Hindu scholasticism, are perversely used as
of avail for Indo-European etymology: and such abuse has
naturally provoked from some scholars a distrust of its
genuine claims to regard: but, stripping off all exaggerations,
and making all due allowances, the Sanskrit is still the main.
stay of Indo-European philology;. it gave the science a rapid
development which nothing else could have given; it imparted to its conclusions a fulness and certainty which would
have been otherwise unattainable.- 
Such is the constitution of the grand division of human
speech to which our own language belongs.  That its limits
have been everywhere traced with entire exactness cannot,
of course, be claimed; other existing dialects may yet make
good their claim to be included in it-and it is beyond all
reasonable question that, as many of its sub-branches have
perished without leaving a record, so various of its branches,
fully coordinate with those we have reviewed, must have
met a like fate.  We may now proceed to glance briefly at
some of the grounds of the preeminent importance with which
it is invested.
One source of the special interest which we feel in the
study of Indo-European language lies in the fact that our
own tongue is one of its branches. In the moral and intellectual world, not less than in the physical, everything cannot
but appear larger in our eyes according as it is nearer to us.
This would be a valid consideration with any race upon
earth, since, for each, its own means of communication and
instrument of thought is also the record of its past history,
and must be its agency of future improvement in culture,
and therefore calls for more study in order to its fuller com.
prehension, and its development and elevation, than should be
given to any other tongue, of however superior intrinsic value.
But we are further justified in our somewhat exclusive interest
by the position which our languages, and the races which speak
them, hold among other languages and races. It is true,
as was claimed at the outset of these lectures, that linguistic




230                 HISTORY OF THE                [LEOT,
science, as a branch of human history, aims at universality,
and finds the tongues of the humblest tribes as essential ta
her completeness as those of the most cultivated and gifted
nations; but it is also true that, mindful of proportion, she
passes more lightly over the one, to give her longer and
more engrossed attention to the other. While the weal
and woe of every individual that ever lived goes to make up
the sum of human interests, with which our human nature
both justifies and demands our sympathy, we cannot but linger longest and with keenest participation over the fortunes
of those who have played a great part among their fellows,
whose deeds and words have had a wide and deep-reaching
influence. And this is, in a very marked degree, the
character of the Indo-European race. Its first entrance as
an actor into what we are accustomed to call universal history, or that drama of action and influence whose denouement
is the culture of the modern European nations, was in the
far East, in the Persian empire of Cyrus and his successors.
This founded itself upon the ruins and relics of more ancient
empires and cultures, belonging to other peoples, in part
Semitic, in part of obscurer kindred. For the Indo-Europeans were, of all the great civilizing and governing races,
the last to commence their career. Not only in Miesopotamia, but also in Egypt and China, the light of knowledge
burned brightly, and great deeds were done, whereof the
world will never lose the memory, while the tribes of our
kimidred were wandering savages, or weak and insignificant
communities, struggling for existence. The Persian empire,
in its conquering march westward, was first checked by one
of these humble communities, the little jarring confederation
of Greek states and cities, destined to become, notwithstand.
ing its scanty numbers, the real founder of Indo-European
preeiminence.  Greece, enriching itself with elements drawn
from the decaying institutions of older races, assimilated
them, and made them lively and life-giving, with an energy
of genius unrivalled elsewhere in the annals of the world,
The wider the range of our historical study, the more are we
penetrated with the transcendent ability of the Greek race.
In art, literature, and science, it has been what the Hebrew




VI.]             INDO-EUROPEAN RACES.               231
race has been in religion, and its influence has been hardly
less unlimited, in space and in time.
It seemed at one period, as is well known, that Greece
would succeed to the imperial throne of Persia, subjecting
the civilized world to her sway; but the prospect lasted but
for a moment: the sceptre of universal dominion slipped
from the hands of Alexander's successors, and soon passed
over into the keeping of another and younger branch of the
same family.  Rome, appropriating the fruits of Greek
culture, and adding an organizing and assimilating force
peculiarly her own, went forth to give laws to all nations,
and to impose upon them a unity of civilization and of
social and political institutions. And if Christianity was of
Semitic birth, Greeks and Romans gave it universality.
Rejected by the race which should have especially cherished
it, it was taken up and propagated by the Indo-Europeans,
and added a new unity, a religious one, to the forces by
which Rome bound together the interests and fates of mankind.
Now came the turn of yet another branch, the Germanic.
This had, indeed, only the subordinate part to play of aiding
in the downfall of the old order of things, and preparing the
way for a new and more vigorous growth. Its tribes ravaged
Europe from east to west, and even to the farthest southern
coasts, giving ruling class and monarch to nearly every
country of the continent. But centuries of weakness and
confusion were the first result of this great up-turning, and it
even appeared for a time as if the dominion of the world
were destined to be usurped by another race. The Semites,
inspired with the furious zeal of a new religion, Mohammedanism, broke from their deserts and overran the fairest
parts of Asia and Africa; and their conquering hosts entered Europe at either extremity, establishing themselves
firmly, and pushing forward to take possession of the rest.
They recoiled, at last, before the reviving might of the
superior race, and the last and grandest era of Indo-European supremacy began, the era in the midst of which we
now live. For the past few centuries, the European nations
have stood foremost, without a riral, in the world's history.




232            IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY            [LECT,
They are the enlightened and the enlighteners of mankind.
They alone are extending the sphere of human knowledge,
investigating the nature of matter and of mind, and tracing
out their exhibition in the past history and present condition of the earth and its inhabitants. They alone have
a surplus stock of intelligent energy, which is constantly
pushing beyond its old boundaries, and spurns all limit to
its action. The network of their activity embraces the
globe; their ships are in every sea between the poles, for
exploration, for trade, or for conquest; the weaker races are
learning their civilization, falling under their authority,
or perishing off the face of the land, from inherent inability
to stand before them. They have appropriated, and converted into outlying provinces of their race and culture,
the twin world of the West, and the insular continent of the
south-eastern seas, while their lesser colonies dot the whole
surface of the inhabitable globe. They have inherited from
its ancient possessors the sceptre of universal dominion, over
a world vastly enlarged beyond that to which were limited
the knowledge and the power of former times: and they are
worthy to wield it, since their sway brings, upon the whole,
physical well-being, knowledge, morality, and religion to
those over whom it is extended.
All that speciality of interest, then, which cleaves to historical investigations respecting the origin, the earliest condi.
tions, the migrations, the mutual intercourse and influence,
and the intercourse with outside races;'of that division of
mankind which has shown itself as the most gifted, as possessing the highest character and fulfilling the noblest
destiny, among all who have peopled the earth since the
first dawn of time, belongs, of right and of necessity, to
Indo-European philology.,
It may, indeed, be urged that this is an interest lying
somewhat apart from the strict domain of linguistic science
whose prime concern is with speech itself, not with the
characters or acts of those who speak. Yet, as was pointed
out in our first lecture, the study of language is not intro.
spective merely; they would unduly narrow its sphere and
restrict its scope who should limit it to the examination of




vI.]          OF INDO-EUROPEAN LANGUAGE.            238
linguistic facts: these are so inextricably intertwined with
historical facts, so dependent upon and developed out of
them, that the two cannot be separated in consideration and
treatment; one chief department of the value of the science
lies in its capacity to throw light upon the history of human
races.  The importance of the Indo-European races in
history is, then, legitimately to be included among the
titles of Indo-European philology to the first attention of
the linguistic scholar. r'Moreover, since the relation between
the capacity of a race and the character of the tongue
originated and elaborated by that race is a direct and necessary one, it could not but be the case that the speech
of the most eminently and harmoniously endowed part of
mankind should itself be of highest character and most
harmonious development, and so the most worthy object of
study, in its structure and its relations to mind and thought.
And this advantage also, as we shall see more plainly hereafter, is in fact found to belong to Indo-European language:
in the classification of all human speech it takes, unchallenged, the foremost rank.,,
But these considerations, weighty as they are, do not
fully explain the specially intimate bond subsisting between
general linguistic science and the study of Indo-European
speech. Not only did the establishment of the unity of
that family, and the determination of the relations of its
members, constitute the most brilliant achievement of the
new science; they were also its foundation; it began with
the recognition of these truths, and has developed with their
elaboration. The reason is not difficult to discover: IndoEuropean language alone furnished such a grand body of
related facts as the science needed for a sure basis. Its
dialects have a range, in the variety of their forms and in
t;he length of the period of development covered by them,
which is sought elsewhere in vain. They illustrate the processes of linguistic growth upon an unrivalled scale, and
from a primitive era to which we can make but an imperfect
approach among the other languages of mankind. Portions
of the Chinese literature, it is true, are nearly or quite as
old as anything Indo-European, and the Chinese language,




234             ANTIQUITY AND VARIE'Y             [Lc~O
as will be shown later, is in some respects more primitive
in its structure than any other human tongue; but what it
was at the beginning, that it has ever since remained, a
solitary example of a language almost destitute of a history.
Egypt has records to show of an age surpassing that of any
other known monuments of human speech; but they are of
scanty and enigmatical content, and the Egyptian tongue
also stands comparatively alone, without descendants, and
almost without relatives.  The Semitic languages come
nearest to offering a worthy parallel; but they, too, fall far
short of it.  The earliest Hebrew documents are not greatly
exceeded in antiquity by any others, and the Hebrew with
its related dialects, ancient and modern, fills up a linguistic
scheme of no small wealth; yet Semitic variety is, after all,
but poor and scanty as compared with Indo-European;
Semitic language possesses a toughness and rigidity of struc.
ture which has made its history vastly less full of instructive
change; and its beginnings are of unsurpassed obscurity.
The Semitic languages are rather a group of closely kindred
dialects than a family of widely varied branches: their
whole yield to linguistic science is hardly more than might
be won from a single subdivision of Indo-European speech,
like the Germanic or Romanic. None of the other great
races into which mankind is divided cover with their dialects,
to any noteworthy extent, time as well as space; for the
most part, we know nothing more respecting their speech
than is to be read in its present living forms. Now it is so
obvious as hardly to require to be pointed out, that a science
whose method is prevailingly historical, which seeks to arrive at an understanding of the nature, office, and source
of language by studying its gradual growth, by tracing out
the changes it has undergone in passing from generation to
generation, from race to race, must depend for the soundness of its methods and the sureness of its results upon the
fulness of illustration of these historical changes furnished
by the material of its investigations.  It is true that the
student's historical researches are not wholly baffled by the
absence of older dialects, with whose forms he may compare
those of more rodern date.  Something of the development




VI.]          OF INDO-EUROPEAN LANGUAGE.            235
of every language is indicated in its own structure with
sufficient clearness to be read by analytic study. Yet more
is to be traced out by means of the comparison of kindred
contemporaneous dialects; for, in their descent from their
common ancestor, it can hardly be that each one will not
have preserved some portion of the primitive material
which the others have lost.  Thus-to illustrate briefly by
reference to one or two of our former examples-the identity of our suffix ly, in such words as godly and truly, with
the adjective like might perhaps have been conjectured from
the English alone; and it is made virtually certain by comparison with the modern German (gqttlich, treulich) or
Netherlandish (goddelijk, waarlijk); it does not absolutely
need a reference to older dialects, like the Anglo-Saxon or
Gothic, for its establishment.  Again, not only the Sanskrit
and other ancient languages exhibit the full form asmi,
whence comes our I am, but the same is also to be found
almost unaltered in the present Lithuanian esmi.  But,
even if philological skill and acumen had led the student of
Germanic language to the conjecture that I loved is origin.
ally I love-did, it must ever have remained a conjecture
only, a mere plausible hypothesis, but for the accident which
caused the preservation to our day of the fragment of manuscript containing a part of Bishop Ulfilas's Gothic Bible.
And a host of points in the structure of the tongues of our
Germanic branch which still remain obscure would, as we
know, be cleared up, had we in our possession relics of them.
at a yet earlier stage of their separate growth. The extent
to which the history of a body of languages maybe penetrated by the comparison of contemporary dialects alone will,
of course, vary greatly in different cases; depending, in the
first place, upon the number, variety, and degree of relation
of the dialects, and, in the second place, upon their joint
and several measure of conservation of ancient forms: but
it is also evident that the results thus arrived at for modern
tongues will be, upon the whole, both scanty and dubious,
compared with those obtained by comparing them with
ancient dialects of the same stock. Occasionally, within the
narrow limits of a single branch or group, the student




230            INDO-EUROPEAN PHILOLOGY            [LE(CT.
enjoys the advantage of access to the parent tongue itself,
from  which the more recent idioms are almost bodily de.
rived: thus, for example, our possession of the Latin gives
to our readings of the history of the Romanic tongues, our
determination of the laws which have governed their growth,
a vastly higher degree of definiteness and certainty than we
could reach if we only knew that such a parent tongue must
have existed, and had to restore its forms by careful coinparison and deduction. Next in value to this is the advantage of commanding a rich body of older and younger
dialects of the same lineage, wherein the common speech is
beheld at nearer and remoter distances from  its source, so
that we can discover the direction of its currents, and fill
out with less of uncertainty those parts of their netwcrk of which the record is obliterated. This secondary
advantage we enjoy in the Germanic, the Persian, the
Indian branches of Indo-European speech; and, among the
grander divisions of human language, we enjoy it to an
extent elsewhere unapproached in the Indo-European
family, that immense and varied body of allied forms of
speech, whose lines of historic development are seen to cover
a period of between three and four thousand years, as they
converge toward a meeting in a yet remoter past.
Herein lies the sufficient explanation of that intimate
connection, that almost coincidence, which we have noticed
between the development of Indo-European comparative philology and that of the general science of language. In order
tJ comprehend human language in every part, the student
would wish to have its whole gromwth, in all its divisions and
subdivisions, through all its phases, laid before him  for inspection in full authentic documents. Since, however, anything like this is impossible, he has done the best that lay
vwithin his power: he has thrown himself into that department of speech which had the largest share of its history
thus illustrated, and by studying that has tried to learn how\
to deal with the yet more scanty and fragmentary materials
presented him in other departments. Here could be formed
the desired nucleus of a science; here the general laws of
linguistic life could be discovered; here could be worked




i.]          AND TIlE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE.          237
out those methods and processes which, with such modifications as the varying circumstances rendered necessary,
should be applied in the investigation of other types of
language also. The foundation was broad enough to build
up a shapely and many-sided edifice upon. Yet the study
of Indo-European language is not the science of language.
Such is the diversity in unity of human speech that exclusive attention to any one of its types could only give us
partial and false views of its nature aild history.  Endlessly
as the dialects of our family appear to differ from one
another, they have a distinct common character, which is
brought to our apprehension only when we compare them
with those of other stock; they are far from exhausting the
variety of expression which the human mind is capable of
devising for its thought; the linguist who trains himself in
them alone will be liable to narrowness of vision, and will
stumble when he comes to walk in other fields.  We claim
only that their inner character and outer circumstances
combine to give them the first place in the regard of the
linguistic scholar; that their investigation will constitute in
the future, as it has done in the past, a chief object of his
study; and that their complete elucidation is both the most
attainable and the most desirable and rewarding subject proposed to itself by linguistic science.
The general method of linguistic research has already been
variously set forth and illustrated, in an incidental way; but
a summary recapitulation of its principles, with fuller reference to the grounds on which they are founded, will not be
amiss at this point in our Irogress. The end sought by the
scientific investigator of lan1guage, it will be remembered, is
not a mere apprehension and exposition, however full and
systematic, of the phenomena of a language, or of all human
speech —of its words, its forms, its rules, its usages: that is
work for grammarians and lexicographers. He strives to
discover the why of everything: why these words, these
affixes, have such and such meanings; why usage is thus,
and not otherwise; why so many and such words and forms,
and they only, are found in a given tongue —and so on, in
ever farther-reaching inquiry, back even to the questiorn




238               HISTORICAL METHOD.              CLEca
why we speak at all. And since it appears that every existing or recorded dialect, and every word composing it, is
the altered successor, altered in both form and meaning, of
some other and earlier one; since all known language has
been made what it is, out of something more original, by
action proceeding from the minds of those who have used
it-, its examination must be conducted historically, like that
of any other institution which has had a historic growth and
development. All human speech has been during long ages
modified, was even perhaps in the first place produced, by
human capacities, as impelled by human necessities and
governed by human circumstances; it has become what
these influences by their gradual action have made it: it, on
the one hand, is to be understood only as their product;
they, on the other hand, are to be read in the effects which
they have wrought upon it. To trace out the transformations of language, following it backward through its successive stages even to its very beginnings, if we can reach so
far; to infer from the changes which it is undergoing and
has undergone the nature and way of action of the forces
which govern it; from these and from the observed charac.
ter of its beginnings to arrive at a comprehension of its
origin.such are the inquiries which occupy the attention
of the linguistic scholar, and which must guide him to his
ultimate conclusions respecting the nature of speech as an
instrumentality of communication and of thought, and its
value as a means of human progress.
And as in its general character, so also in its details, the
process of investigation is historical.  We have already
seen (lecture second, p. 54) that the whole structure of
our science rests upon the study of individual words; the
labours of the etymologist must precede and prepare the
way for everything that is to follow. But every etymolo.
gical question is strictly a historical one; it concerns the
steps of a historical process, as shown by historical evi.
dences; it implies a judgment of the value of testimony, and a
recognition of the truth fairly deducible therefrom. What
is proved respecting the origin and changes of each particu.
lar word by all the evidence within reach, is the etymolo..




V1 JETYMOLOGY.                                       239
gist's ever-recurring inquiry.  To answer it successfully,
he needs a combination of many qualities; he must be, in
fact, a whole court in himself: the acuteness, perseverance,
and enterprise of the advocate must be his, to gather every
particle of testimony, every analogy, every decision, bearing
upon the case in hand; he must play the part of the opposing counsel, in carefully sifting the collected evidence,
testing the character and disinterestedness of the witnesses,
ci oss-examining them to expose their blunders and inconsist.
encies; he must have, above all, the learning and candour of
the judge, that he may sum up and.give judgment impartially, neither denying the right which is fairly established,
nor allowing that which rests on uncertain allegation and
insufficient proof. In short, the same gifts and habits of
mind which make the successful historian of events are
wanted also to make the successful historian of words.
The ill-repute in which etymology and those who follow
it are held in common opinion is a telling indication of the
difficulty attending its practice.  The uncertainty and arbitrariness of its prevailing methods, the absurdity of its
results, have been the theme of many a cutting and welldirected gibe. It has in all ages been a tempting occupation to curious minds, and always a slippery one. An
incalculable amount of human ingenuity has been wasted
in its false pursuit. Men eminent for acuteness and sound
judgment in other departments of intellectual labour have
in this been guilty of folly unaccountable. It has been
often remarked that the Greeks and Romans, when once
engaged in an etymological inquiry, seem to have taken leave
of their common sense.  Great as were the advantages
offered by the Sanskrit language to its native analysts, in
the regularity of its structure and the small proportion of
obscure words which it contained, they stumbled continually
as soon as they left the plain track of the commonest and
clearest derivations, and their religious, philosophical, and
grammatical books are filled with word-genealogies as fanciful and unsound as those of the classic writers. In no one
respect does the linguistic science of the present day show
its radical superiority to that of former times more clearly




2410           THE COMPARATIVE METHOD             [LECT
than in the style and method of its etymologies: upon
these, indeed, is its superiority directly founded.
The grand means, now, of modern etymological research
is the extensive comparison of kindred forms.  How this
should be so appears clearly enough from what has been
already taught respecting the growth of dialects and the
genetical connections of languages. If spoken tongues stood
apart from one another, each a separate and isolated entity,
they would afford no scope for the comparative method. As
such entities the ancient philology regarded them; or, if
their relationship was in some cases recognized, it was
wrongly apprehended and perversely applied —as when, for
instance, the Latin was looked upon as derived from the
Greek, and its words were sought to be etymologized out of
the Greek lexicon, as corrupted forms of Greek vocables.
In the view of the present science, while each existing dialect is the descendant of an older tongue, so other existing
dialects are equally descendants of the same tongue.  All
have kept a part, and lost a part, of the material of their
common inheritance; all have preserved portions of it in a
comparatively unchanged form, while they have altered other
portions perhaps past recognition.  But, while thus agreed
in the general fact and the general methods of change, they
differ indefinitely from one another in the details of the
changes effected. Each has saved something which others
have lost, or kept in pristine purity what they have obscured
or overlaid: or else, from their variously modified forms can be
deduced with confidence the original whence these severally
diverged. Every word, then, in whose examination the
linguistic scholar engages, is to be first set alongside its
correspondents or analogues in other related languages, that
its history may be read aright. Thus the deficiencies of
the evidence which each member of a connected group of
dialects contains respecting its own genesis and growth are
made up, in greater or less degree, by the rest, and historical
results are reached having a greatly increased fulness and
certainty. The establishment of a grand family of related
languages, like the Indo-European, makes each member con



vI.1             IN LINGUISTIC SCIENCE.              241
tribute, either immediately or mediately, to the elucidation of
every other.
The great prominence in the new science of language of
this comparative method gave that science its familiar title
of " comparative philology," a title which is not yet lost in
popular usage, although now fully outgrown and antiquated.
It designated very suitably the early growing phase of linguistic study, that of the gathering and sifting of material, the
elaboration of methods, the establishment of rules, the deduction of first general results; it still properly designates
the process by which the study is extended and perfected;
but to call the whole science any longer " comparative philology" is not less inappropriate than to call the science of
zoology "comparative anatomy," or botanical science the
" comparison of plants."
But the comparative method, as we must not fail to notice, is no security against loose and false etymologizing; it
is not. less liable to abuse than any other good thing.  If it
is to be made fruitful of results for the advancement of
science, it must not be wielded arbitrarily and wildly; it
must have its fixed rules of application. Some appear to
imagine that, in order to earn the title of " comparative
philologist," they have but to take some given language and
run with it into all the ends of the earth, collating its material and forms with those of any other tongue they may
please to select.  But that which makes the value of comparison - namely, genetical relationship - also determines
the way in which it shall be rendered valuable.  We compare in order to bring to light resemblances which have their
ground and explanation in a real historical identity of origin.
We must proceed, then, as in any other genealogics.l inquiry, by tracing the different lines of descent backward
from step to step toward their points of convergence. The
work of comparison is begun between the tongues most
nearly related, and is gradually extended to those whose
connection is more and more remote. We first set up, for
example, a group like the Germanic, and by the study of its
internal relations learn to comprehend its latest history, dis.
16




242               MISAPPLICATIONS OF              [LEoT,
tinguishing and setting apart all that is the result of independent growth and change among its dialects, recognizing
what in it is original, and therefore fair subject of comparison with the results of a like process performed upon the
other branches of the same family. It needs not, indeed,
that the restoration of primitive Germanic speech should be
made complete before any farther step is taken; there are
correspondences so conspicuous and palpable running through
all the varieties of Indo-European speech, that, the unity of
the family having been once established, they are at a glance
seen and accepted at their true value. But only a small
part of the analogies of two more distantly related languages
are of this character, and their recognition will be made
both complete and trustworthy in proportion as the nearer
congeners of each language are first subjected to comparison. If English were the only existing Germanic tongue,
we could still compare it with Attic Greek, and point out a
host of coincidences which would prove their common origin;
but, as things are, to conduct our investigation in this way,
leaving out of sight the related dialects on each side, would
be most unsound and unphilological; it would render as
liable to waste no small share of our effort upon those parts
of English which are peculiar, of latest growth, and can have
no genetic connection whatever with aught in the Greek: it
would expose us, on the one hand, to make false identifications (as between our whole and the Greek holos,' entire');
and, on the other hand, to find diversity where the help of
older dialectic forms on both sides would show striking resemblance. What analogy, for instance, do we discern
between our bear, in they bear, and Glreek pherousi? but
comparison of the other Germanic dialects allows us to trace
bear directly back to a Germanic form berand, and Doric
Greek gives us pheronti, from which comespherousi by one of
the regular euphonic rules of the language; the law of permutation of mutes in the Germanic languages (see above, p.
97) exhibits b as the regular correspondent in Low Ger.
man dialects to the original aspirate ph; and the historical
identity of the two words compared, in root and termination,
is thus put beyond the reach of cavil.




VI]            THE COMPARATIVE METHOD.              243
Yet more contrary to sound method would it be, for example, to compare directly English, Portuguese, Persian,
and Bengali, four of the latest and most altered representatives of the four great branches of Indo-European speech to
which they severally belong.  Nothing, or almost nothing,
that is peculiar to the Bengali as compared with the Sanskrit,
to the Persian as compared with the ancient Avestan and
Achaemenidan dialects, to the Portuguese as compared with
the Latin, can be historically connected with what belongs
to English or any other Germanic tongue. Their ties of
mutual relationship run backward through those older representatives of the branches, and are to be sought and traced
there.
But worst of all is the drawing out of alleged correspondences, and the fabrication of etymologies, between such languages as the English —or, indeed, any Indo-European
dialect-on the one hand, and the Hebrew, or the Finnish,
or the Chinese, on the other. Each of these last is the fully
recognized member of a well-established family of languages,
distinct from the Indo-European.  If there be genetic relation between either of them and an Indo-European language,
it must lie back of the whole grammatical development of
their respective families, and can only be brought to light by
the reduction of each, though means of the most penetrating
and exhaustive study of the dialects confessedly akin with it,
to its primitive form, as cleared of all the growth and change
wrought upon it by ages of separation. There may be scores,
or hundreds, of apparent resemblances between them, but
these are worthless as signs of relationship until an investi.
gation not less profound than we have indicated shall show
that they are not merely superficial and delusive.
Let it not be supposed that we are reasoning in a vicious
circle, in thus requiring that two languages shall have been
proved related before the correspondences which are to show
their relationship shall be accepted as real. We are only settng forth the essentially cumulative nature of the evidences
of linguistic connection. The first processes of comparison
by which it is sought to establish the position and relations
of a new language are tentative merely. No sound linguist




244                 MODERN ETYMOLOG T.                 [LECT,
is unmindful of the two opposing possibilities which interfere
with the certainty of his conclusions: first, that seeming
coincidences may turn out accidental and illusory only;
second, that beneath apparent discordance may be hidden
genetic identity. With every new analogy which his researches bring to view, his confidence in the genuineness
and historic value of those already found is increased. And
when, examining each separate fact in all the light that he
can cast upon it, from sources near and distant, he has at
length fully satisfied himself that two tongues are funda.
mentally related, their whole mutual aspect is thereby modi.
fied; he becomes expectant of signs of relationship everywhere, and looks for them in phenomena which would not
otherwise attract his attention for a moment.  When, on
the contrary, an orderly and thorough examination, proceeding from the nearer to the remoter degrees of connection,
has demonstrated the position of two languages in two
diverse families, the weight of historic probability is shifted
to the other scale, and makes directly against the interpretation of their surface resemblances as the effect of anything
but accident or borrowing.
The new etymological science differs from the old, not in
the character of the results which it is willing to admit, but
in the character of the evidence on which it is willing to admit
them. It will even derive lucus,'grove,' from non lucendo,'its not shining there,' if only historical proof of the
derivation be furnished. It finds no difficulty in recognizing
as identical two words like the French eveque and the English bishop, which have not a single sound or letter in common; for each is readily traceable back to the Greek
episkopos.*  But it does not draw  thence the conclusion
that, in this or in any other pair of languages, two words
meaning the same thing may, whatever their, seeming dis.
cordance, be assumed to be one, or are likely to be proved
* Evdque, earlier evesque, evesec, represents the syllables episk, while bishop,
earlier biskop, represents the syllables piskop.  Each has saved, and still accents, the accented syllable of the original; but the French, whose words are
prevailingly accented on their final syllables, has dropped off all that followed
tt; while the Germanic tongue, accenting more usually the penult in w:rda
if this structure, has retained the succeeding syllable.




1I.]               MODERN ETYMOLOGY.                  245
one: it waits for the demonstration in each separate case.
The claim made in our third lecture, that, ir the history of
linguistic changes, any given sound may pass over into any
other, any given meaning become modified to its opposite, or
to something apparently totally unconnected with it, may
seem to take away from etymology all reliable basis; but it
is not so; for the same researches which establish this claim
show also the difference between those facile changes which
may be looked for everywhere, and the exceptioial ones
which only direct and convincing evidence can force us to
accept as actual in any language; they teach us to study the
laws of transition of each separate language as part of its
idiosyncrasy, and to refrain from applying remote' and
doubtful analogies in the settlement of difficult questions.
In short, the modern science of language imposes upon all
who pursue it thoroughness and caution.  It requires that
every case be examined in all its bearings. It refuses to accept results not founded on an exhaustive treatment of all
the attainable evidence.  It furnishes no instruments of
research which may not be turned to false uses, and made to
yield false results, in careless and unskilful hands. It supplies nothing which can take the place of sound learning
and critical judgment. Even those who are most familiar
with its methods may make lamentable failures when they
come to apply them to a language of which they have only
superficial knowledge,* or which they compare directly with
some distant tongue, regardless of its relations in its own
family, and of its history as determined by comparison with
these. A scholar profoundly versed in the comparative
philology of some special group of languages, and whom we
gladly suffer to instruct us as to their development, may
have nothing to say that is worth our listening to, when he
would fain trace their remoter connections with groups of
which he knows little or nothing. Notwithstanding the
* Thus, as a striking example and warning, hardly a more utter caricature
of the comparative method is to be met with than that given by Bopp, the
great founder and author of the method, himself, in the papers in which he
attempts to prove the Malay-Polynesian and the Caucasian languages entitled
to a place in the Indo-European family.




246        MISAPPREHENSION OF THE METHODS          I ECT,
immense progress which the study of language has made
during the past few years, the world is still full of hasty
generalizers, who would rather skim wide and difficult con.
clusions off the surface of half-examined facts than wait to
gather them as the fruits of slow and laborious research.
The greater part of the rubbish which is even now heaping
up in the path of our science, encumbering its progress,
comes from the neglect of these simple principles: that
no man is qualified to compare fruitfully two languages or
groups who is not deeply grounded in the knowledge of both,
and that no language can be fruitfully compared with others
which stand, or are presumed to stand, in a more distant relationship with it, until it has been first compared with its
own next of kin.
We see, it may be farther remarked, upon how narrow
and imperfect a basis those comparative philologists build who
are content with a facile setting side by side of words;
whose materials are simple vocabularies, longer or shorter, of
terms representing common ideas. There was a period in
the history of linguistic science when this was the true
method of investigation, and it still continues to be useful in
certain departments of the field of research.  It is the first
experimental process; it determines the nearest and most
obvious groupings, and prepares the way for more penetrating study. Travellers, explorers, in regions exhibiting great
diversity of idiom and destitute of literary records-like our
western wilds, or the vast plains of inner Africa-do essential service by gathering and supplying such material, anything better being rendered inaccessible by lack of leisure,
opportunity, or practice.  But it must be regarded as provisional and introductory, acceptable only because the best
that is to be had.  Genetic correspondences in limited lists
of words, however skilfully selected, are apt to be conspicuous only when the tongues they represent are of near
kindred; and even then they may be in no small measuru
obscured or counterbalanced by discordances, so that deeper
and closer study is needed, in order to bring out satisfay.
torily to view the fact and degree of relationship.  Penetra,
tion of the secrets of linguistic structure and grcwth, di.




V.L           AND OBJECTS OF ETYMOLOGY.           247
covery of correspondences which lie out of the reach of
careless and uninstructed eyes, rejection of deceptive re.
semblances which have no historical foundation-these are
the most important part of the linguistic student's work.
Surface collation without genetic analysis, as far-reaching as
the attainable evidence allows, is but a travesty of the
methods of comparative philology.
Another not infrequent misapprehension of etymologic
study consists in limiting its sphere of action to a tracing
out of the correspondences of words. This is, indeed, as we
have called it, the fundamental stage, on the solidity of
which depends the security of all the rest of the structure;
but it is only that. Comparative etymology, like chemistry,
runs into an infinity of detail, in which the mind of the student is sometimes entangled, and his effort engrossed; it
has its special rules and methods, which admit within certain
limits of being mechanically applied, by one ignorant or
heedless of their true ground and meaning. Many a man
is a skilful and successful hunter of verbal connections whose
views of linguistic science are of the crudest and most imperfect character.  Not only does he thus miss what ought
to be his highest reward, the recognition of those wide
relations and great truths to which his study of words should
conduct him, but his whole work lacks its proper basis, and
is liable to prove weak at any point.  The history of words
is inextricably bound up with that of human thought and
life and action, and cannot be read without it. We fully
understand no word till we comprehend the motives and
conditions that called it forth and determined its form. The
word money, for example, is not explained when we have
marshalled the whole array of its correspondents in all European tongues, and traced them up to their source in the
Latin moneta: all the historical circumstances which have
caused a term once limited to an obscure city to be current
now in the mouths of such immense communities; the wants
ajnd devices of civilization and commer,:e which have created
the thing designated by the word and made it what it is;
the outward circumstances and mental associations which, by
successive changes, have worked out the name from a'rcot




248         LINGUISTIO 0OMPARISON UNIVERSAS.
signifying'to think;' the structure of organ, and the habits
of utterance-in themselves and in their origin-which have
metamorphosed monita into mo'ney:-all this, and more,
is necessary to the linguistic scholar's perfect mastery of
this single term.  There is no limit to the extent to which
the roots of being of almost every word ramify thus through
the whole structure of the tongue to which it belongs, or
even of many tongues, and through the history of the people
who speak them: if we are left in most cases to come far
short of the full knowledge which we crave, we at least
should not fail to crave it, and to grasp after all of it that
lies within our reach.
We have been regarding linguistic comparison as what it
primarily and essentially is, the effective means of determining genetical relationship, and investigating the historical development of languages. But we must guard against leaving
the impression that languages can be compared for no other
purposes than these. In those wide generalizations wherein
we regard speech as a human faculty, and its phenomena as
illustrating the nature of mind, the processes of thought,
the progress of culture, it is often not less important to put
side by side that which in spoken language is analogous in
office but discordant in origin than that which is accordant
in both. The variety of human expression is well-nigh infinite, and no part of it ought to escape the notice of the
linguistic student.  The comparative method, if only it be
begun and carried on aright-if the different objects of the
genetic and the analogic comparison be kept steadily in
view, and their results not confounded with one anotherneed not be restricted in its application, until, starting from
any centre, it shall have comprehended the whole circle of
human s?eech.




LECTURE VII.
/eglnnings of Indo-European language. Actuality of linguistic analysis.
Roots, pronominal and verbal; their character as the historical
germs of our language; development of inflective speech from them.
Production of declensional, conjugational, and derivative apparatus,
and of the parts of speech. Relation of synthetic and analytic
forms. General character and course of inflective development.
THE last two lectures have given us a view of the IndoEuropean family of languages.  We have glanced at the
principal dialects, ancient and modern, of which it is composed, noticing their exceeding variety and the high antiquity of some among them-the unequalled sweep, of time
and of historic development together, which they include
and cover. The family has been shown to be of preeminent
importance and interest to the linguistic student, because
the peoples to whom it belongs have taken during the past
two thousand years or more a leading or even the foremost
part in the world's history, because it includes the noblest
and most perfect instruments of human thought and expression, and because upon its study is mainly founded the
present science of language.  We examined, in a general
way, the method pursued in its investigation-namely, a
genetic analysis, effected chiefly by the aid of a widely extended comparison of the kindred forms of related dialects
(whence the science gets its familiar name of " comparative
philology ")-and noted briefly some of the misapprehensions and misapplications to which this was liable.  A.t
ptesent, before going on to survey the other great fauiihesa




250             HISTORICAL E3iINNINGS           rLEOT
of language, and to consider the relation in which they
stand to the Indo-European, we have to pause long enough
to look at the main facts in the history of growth of the
latter-of our own form of speech, using the word "' our"
in the widest sense to which we have as yet extended it.
This we do, partly on account of the intrinsic interest of
the subject, and partly because the results thus won will be
found valuable, and even almost indispensable, in the course
of our farther inquiries.
The history of Indo-European language has been more
carefully read, and is now more thoroughly understood, than
that of any other of the grand divisions of human speech.
Not that our knowledge of it is by any means complete, or
is not marked even by great and numerous deficiencies and
obscurities: owing in no small part to the obliteration of
needed evidence, and hence irreparable; but in part also
to incomplete comparison and analysis of the material yet
preserved, and therefore still admitting and sure ere long to
receive amendment. Such deficiencies, however, are more
concerned with matters of minor detail, and less with facts
and principles of fundamental consequence, here than elsewhere. Hence the mode of development of language in
general, even fromn its first commencement, can in no other
way be so well exemplified as by tracing its special history
in this single family.
Our first inquiry concerns the primitive stage of IndoEuropean language, its historical beginnings.
The general processes of linguistic growth and change, as
they have for long ages past been going on in all the dialects
of our kindred, were set forth and illustrated with some detail in the early part of our discussions respecting language
(in the second and third lectures). We there saw that, in
order to provide new thought and knowledge with its appropriate signs, and to r.epair the waste occasioned by the
loss of words from use and memory, and the constant, wearing out of forms, new combinations were made out of old
materials, words of independent significance reduced to the
position and value of modifying appendages to other words,
amnd meanings variously altered and transferred.  These




nvI.]         OF INDO-EUBOPEAN LANGUA4E.            251
processes may, for aught we can see, work on during an in.
definite period in the future, with never-ending evolution
out of each given form of speech of another slightly differ.
ing from it; even until every now existing dialect shall have
divided into numerous descendants, and each of these shall
have varied so far from its ancestor that their kindred shall
be scarcely, or not at all, discoverable. Have we, now, any
good reason to believe that they have not worked on thus
indefinitely in the past also, with a kaleidoscopic resolution
of old forms and combination of new, changing the aspect of
language without altering its character as a structure? Or,
are we able to find distinct traces of a condition of speech
which may be called primitive in comparison with that in
which it at present exists?
This question admits an affirmative answer.  The present
structure of language has its beginnings, from which we are
not yet so far removed that they may not be clearly seen.
Our historical analysis does not end at last in mere obscurity; it brings us to the recognition of elements which we
must regard as, if not the actual first utterances of men,
at least the germs out of which their later speech has been
developed.  It sets before our view a stage of expression
essentially different from any of those we now behold among
the branches of our family, and serving as their common
foundation.
It must be premised that this belief rests entirely upon
our faith in the actuality of our analytical processes, as
being merely a retracing of the steps of a previous synthesis
-in the universal truth of the doctrine that the elements
into which we separate words are those by the putting
together of which those words were at first made up. The
grounds upon which such a faith reposes were pretty distinetly set forth in the second lecture (p. 66), but the importance of the subject will justify us in a recapitulation of
the argument there presented.
No one can possibly suppose that we should ever have
come to call our morning meal breakfast, if there had not
already existed in our language the two independent words
break andfast; any more than that we should say teleyraph



252          ACTUALITY OF THE PROCESSES          [LECT
wire, kickory-pole, campaign-doceument, gun-boat, without
previous possession of the simple words of which are formed
these modern compounds.  Fearful and fearless, in like
manner, imply the existence beforehand of the noun fear,
and of the adjectives full and loose, or their older equivalents,
which have assumed, with reference to that noun, the quality
of suffixes.  Nor should we have any adverbial suffix ly, if
we had not earlier had the adjective like, nor any preterits
in d (as I love-d), but for the fact that our Germanic ancestors owned an imperfect corresponding to our did, which
they added to their new verbs to express past action. Any
one, I think, will allow that elements distinguishable by
word-analysis which can thus be identified with independent
words are thereby proved to have been themselves once in
possession of an independent status in the language, and to
have been actually reduced by combination to the form and
office with which our analysis finds them endowed. But
farther, few or none will be found to question that all those
formative elements which belong to the Germanic languages
alone, of which no traces are to be discovered in any other
of the branches of the Indo-European family, which constitute the peculiar patrimony of some or all of the dialects of
our branch, must have been gained by the latter since their
separation from the common stock, and in the same way
with the rest, even though we can no longer demonstrate
the origin of each affix. With the disguising and effacing
effects of the processes of linguistic change fully present to
our apprehensions, we shall not venture to conclude that
those cases in which our historical researches fail to give
us the genesis of both the elements of a compound form are
fundamentally different from those in which it fully succeeds
in doing so.  The difference lies, not in the cases themselves, but in our attitude toward them; in our accidental
possession of information as to the history of the one, and
our lack of it as to that of the other. This reasoning:
however, obviously applies not to Germanic speech alone;
it is equally legitimate and cogent in reference to all IndoEuropean language. We cannot refuse to believe that the
whole history of this family of languages has been, in It#




,II.]            OF LINGUISTIC ANALYSIS.            253
grand essential features, the same; that their structure is
homogeneous throughout. There is no reason whatever for
our assuming that the later composite forms are made up,
and not the earlier; that the later suffixes are elaborated
out of independent elements, and not the earlier. So far
back as we can trace the history of language, the forces
which have been efficient in producing its changes, and the
general outlines of their modes of operation, have been the
same; and we are justified in concluding, we are even compelled to infer, that they have been the same from the outset. There is no way of investigating the first hidden steps
of any continuous historical process, except by carefully
studying the later recorded steps, and cautiously applying
the analogies thence deduced. So the geologist studies the
forces which are now altering by slow degrees the form
and aspect of the earth's crust, wearing down the rocks here,
depositing beds of sand and pebbles there, pouring out
floods of lava over certain regions, raising or lowering the
line of coast along certain seas; and he applies the results
of his observations with confidence to the explanation of
phenomena dating from a time to which men's imaginations,
even, can hardly reach.  The legitimacy of the analogical
reasoning is not less undeniable in the one case than in the
other. You may as well try to persuade the student of the
earth's structure that the coal-bearing rocks lie in parallel
layers, of alternating materials, simply because it pleased
God to make them so when he created the earth; or that
the impressions of leaves, the stems and trunks of trees, the
casts of animal remains, shells and bones, which they contain, the ripple and rain-marks which are seen upon them,
are to be regarded as the sports of nature, mere arbitrary
characteristics of the formation, uninterpretable as signs of
its history —as to persuade the student of language that
the indications of composition and growth which he discovers
in the very oldest recorded speech, not less than in the
latest, are only illusory, and that his comprehension of
linguistic development must therefore be limited to the
strictly historical period of the life of language. It is no
prepossession, then, nor a, priori theory, but a true logical




254              ROOTS THE REAL GERMI,             [LECT,
necessity, a sound induction from  observed iaets, which
brings us to the conclusionthat all linguistic elements pos.
sessing distinct meaning and office, variously combined and
employed for the uses of expression, are originally independ.
ent entities, having a separate existence before they entered
into mutual combination.
In the light of these considerations let us examine a
single word in our language, the word irrevocability. It
comes to us from the Latin, where it had the form irrevocabilitas (genitive -tatis). It is clearly made by the addition
of ty (las, tatis) to a previously existing irrevocable (irrevocabili-s), just as we now form a new abstract noun from any
given adjective by adding ness: for example, doughfacedness.
Again, revocable (revocabilis) preceded irrevocable, as dutiful
preceded uznduttful.  Further, if there had been no verb to
revoke (revocare), there would have been no adjective revocable, any more than lovable without the verb to love. Yet
once more: although we in English have the syllable yoke
only in composition with prefixes, as revoke, evoke, invoke,
provoke, yet in Latin, as the verb vocare,' to call,' it is, of
course, older than any of these its derivatives, as stand is
older than understand and withstand.  Thus far our way is
perfectly clear. But while, in our language, yoke appears as
a simple syllable, uncombined with suffixes, this is only by
the comparatively recent effect of the wearing-out processes,
formerly illustrated (in the third lecture); in the more
original Latin, it is invariably associated with formative elements, which compose with it forms like vocare,'to call,'
vocat,'he calls,' vocabar,' I was called;' or, in substantive
uses, vocs (vox),' a calling, a voice,' vocum,' of voices;' and
so on. There is nothing, so far as concerns the formative
elements themselves, to distinguish this last class of cases
from the others, before analyzed; each suffix has its distinct
meaning and office, and is applied in a whole class of analogous words; and some of them, at least, are traceable back
to the independent words out of which they grew. The
only difference is that here, if we cut off the formative ele.
ments, we have left, not a word, actually employed as suchb
in any ancient language of our family, but a significant




Vt!.]         oF T4INGUISTIC DEVELOPMENT.            255
syllable, expressing the general and indeterminate idea of'calling,' and found to occur in connected speech only when
limited and defined by the suffixes which are attached to it.
This is not, however, a peculiarity which can exempt the
words so formed from a like treatment, leading to like conclusions, with the rest; we must still trust in the reality of
our analysis; and especially, when we consider such forms
as the Sanskrit vak-mi, vak-shi, vak-ti, where the mi, shi, and
ti are recognizarle pronouns, making  compounds which
mean clearly' call-I,'' call-thou,''call-he,' we cannot doubt
that the element voc (vak) had also once an independent
8tatus, that it was a word, a part of spoken speech, and that
the various forms which contain it were really produced by
the addition of other elements to it, and their fusion together
into a single word, in the same manner in which we have
fused truth andfull into truthtful, truth and loose into truth.
less, true and like into truly.
The same conclusion may be stated in more general terms,
as follows. The whole body of suffixes, of formative end.
ings, is divided into two principal classes, first, primary,
or such as form derivatives directly from roots; second,
secondary, or such as form derivatives from other derivatives,
from themes containing already a formative element. But
the difference between these two classes is in their use and
application, not in their character and origin. No insignificant portion of each is traceable back to independent words,
and the presumption alike for each is that in all its parts it
was produced in the same manner. If, then, we believe
that the themes to which the secondary endings are appended
were historical entities, words employed in actual speech
before their further composition, we must believe the same
respecting the roots to which are added the primary endings: these are not less historical than the others.
The conclusion is one of no small consequence. Elements
like voc, eac h composing a single syllable, and containing no
traceable sign of a formative element, resisting all our
attempts at reduction to a simpler form, are what we arrive
at as the final results of our analysis of the Indo-European
vocabulary; every word of wlich this is made up-save t hose




h56             ORIGINAL MONOSYLLABISM            rLECT.
whose history is obscure, and cannot be read far back toward its beginning-is found to contain a monosyllabic root
as its central significant portion, along with certain other
accessory portions, syllables or remnants of syllables, whose
office it is to define and direct the radical idea.  The roots
are never found in practical use in their naked form; they
are (or, as has been repeatedly explained, have once been)
always clothed with suffixes, or with suffixes and prefixes;
yet they are no mere abstractions, dissected out by the
grammarian's knife from the midst of organisms of which
they were ultimate and integral portions; they are rather
the nuclei of gradual accretions, parts about which other
parts gathered to compose orderly and membered wholes;
germs, we may call them, out of which has developed the intricate structure of later speech.  And the recognition of
them in this character is an acknowledgment that Indo-European language, with all its fulness and inflective suppleness,
is descended from an original monosyllabic tongue; that our
ancestors talked with one another in single syllables, indicative of the ideas of prime importance, but wanting all
designation of their relations; and that out of these, by
processes not differing in their nature from those which are
still in operation in our own tongue, was elaborated the
marvellous and varied structure of all the Indo-European
dialects.
Such is, in fact, the belief which the students of language
have reached, and now hold with full confidence. New and
strange but a few years ago, it commands at present the
assent of nearly all comparative philologists, and is fast becoming a matter of universal opinion. Since, however, it is
still doubted and opposed by a few even among linguistic
scholars, and is doubtless more or less unfamiliar and startling to a considerable part of any educated community,
it will be proper that we combine with our examination of it
some notice and refutation of the arguments by which it is
assailed.
It is surely unnecessary,in the first place, to protest against
any one's talking umbrage at this theory of a primitive
monosyllabic stage of Indo-European language out of regard




V]I.]        OF INDO-EUJROPEAN LANGUAGE.          257
for the honour and dignity of our remote ancestors.  The
linguist is making a historical inquiry into the conditions of
that branch of the human family to which we belong, and
should no more be shocked at finding them talking in single
syllables than dwelling in caves and huts of branches, or
clad in leaves and skins. To require, indeed, for man's
credit that he should have beer. sent upon the earth with a
fully developed language miraculously placed in his mouth,
with lists of nouns, verbs, and adverbs stored away in
his memory, to be drawn upon at will, is not more reasonable than to require that the first human beings should have
been born in full suits of clothes, and with neat cottages,
not destitute of well-stocked larders, ready built over their
heads. It surely is most of all to the honour of human nature that man should have been able, on so humble a foundation, to build up this wondrous fabric of speech; and also,
as we may already say, that he should have been allowed to
do so is more in accordance with the general plan of the
Creator, who has endowed him with high capacities, and
left him to work them out to their natural and intended results.
Nor, again, will any one venture to object that it would
have been impossible to make so imperfect and rudimentary
a language answer any tolerable purpose as a means of
expression and communication-any one, at least, who knows
aught of the present condition of language among the other
races of the globe. One tongue, the Chinese-as we shall
see more particularly farther on (in the ninth lecture)-has
never advanced out of its primitive monosyllabic stage; its
words remain even to the present day simple radical syllables, closely resembling the Indo-European roots, formless,
not in themselves parts of speech, but made such only by
their combination into sentences, where the connection and
the evident requirements of the sense show in what signification and relation each is used. Yet this scanty and crippled
language has served all the needs of a highly cultivated and
literary people for thousands of years.
After these few words of reply to one or two of the diffi.
culties which sometimes suggest themselves at first blush to
17




258              ROOTS PRONOMINAL, AND            [tLt.
those before whom is brought the view we are defending, we
will next proceed to examine in more detail the original
monosyllabism of Indo-European language, and see of what
character it was.
The roots of our family of languages are divided into two
distinct classes: those ultimately indicative of position
merely, and those significant of action or quality.  The
former class are called demonstrative or pronominal roots;
the latter class are styled predicative or verbal roots.
The pronominal roots are subjective in their character;
they have nothing to do with the inherent qualities of objects,
but mark them simply in their relation to the speaker, and
primarily their local relation; they give the distinction between the this and the that, the nearer and the remoter
object of attention, myself here, you there, and the third
person or thing yonder, present or absent. By their nature,
they are not severally and permanently attachable to certain
objects or classes of objects, nor are they limited in their
application; each of them  may designate any and every
thing, according to the varying relation sustained by the
latter to the person or thing with reference to which it is
contemplated.  Only one thing can be called the sun; only
certain objects are white; but there is nothing which may
not be I, and you, and it, alternately, as the point from
which it is viewed changes. In this universality of their application, as dependent upon relative situation merely, and
in the consequent capacity of each of them to designate any
object which has its own specific name besides, and so, in a
manner, to stand for and represent that other name, lies the
essential character of the pronouns.* From the pronominal
roots come most directly the demonstrative pronouns, of
which the personal are individualized forms, and the interrogatives; from these are developed secondarily the possessives
and relatives, and the various other subordinate classes.
They also generate adverbs of position and of direction. To
examine in detail the forms they take, and the variations of
* Their Hindu title, sarvandman,'name for everything, universal designation,' is therefore more directly and fundamentally characteristic than the
one we give t] em, pronoun,' standing for a name.'




nrI.]                ROOTS VERBAL.                   259
the fundamental distinction between this and that which they
are applied to express, would lead us too far. So much as
this may be pointed out: those beginning with m are especially employed to denote the subject, the ego,'me myself;'
those with t and n are used more demonstratively, and those
with k interrogatively. They are few in number, hardly
counting a dozen all together, including some which are probably variants of the same original. They are of the simplest
phonetic structure, consisting either of a pure vowel, like a
or i, or of a vowel combined with a single preceding consonant, forming an open syllable, which is the easiest that the
organs of articulation can be called upon to utter: instances
are ma, na, ta, tu, ka.
The roots of the other class, those of action or quality,
are very much more numerous, being reckoned by hundreds;
and they are of more complicated structure, illustrating every
variety of the syllable, from the pure single vowel to the
vowel preceded or followed, or both, by one consonant,
or even by more than one. They are of objective import,
designating the properties and activities inherent in natural
objects-and prevailingly those that are of a sensible phenomenal character, such as modes of motion and physical
exertion, of sound, and so forth. Let us notice a few instances of roots which are shown to have belonged to the
original language of our family by being still met with in all
or nearly all of its branches.  Such are i and ga, denoting
simple motion'; ak, swift motion; std, standing; as and sad,
sitting; ki, lying; pad, walking; vas, staying; sak, following; vart, turning; sarp, creeping; pat, flying; plu, flowing;
ad, eating; pd, drinking; an, blowing; vid, seeing; kls,
hearing; yak, speaking; dhd, putting; da, giving; labh,
taking; garbh, holding; dik, pointing out; bhar, bearing;
kar, making; tan, stretching; skid and dal, dividing; bandh,
binding; star, strewing; par, filling; mar, rubbing; bhad,
shining; bhii, growing, etc., etc.
In endeavouring to apprehend the significance of these
roots, we must divest their ideas of the definite forms of
conception which we are accustomed to attach to them:
each represents its own meaning in nakedness, in an indeter..
17 *




2610                     ROOTS.                   [Lot
minate condition from which it is equally ready to take on
the semblance of verb or of noun. We may rudely illustrate
their quality by comparing them with such a word in our own
language as love, which, by the wearing off of the formative
elements with which it was once clothed, has reverted to the
condition of a bare root, and which must therefore now be
placed in such connection, or so pregnantly and significantly
uttered, as to indicate to the intelligent and sympathizing
listener in what sense it is meant and is to be understood
— whether as verb, in "I love," or as substantive, in "my
love," or as virtual adjective, in " love-letter."
The inquiry, which might naturally enough be raised at
this point, how the radical syllables of which we are treating
were themselves originated, and whether there be any
natural and necessary connection between them, or any of
them, and the ideas which they represent, such as either
necessitated or at least recommended the allotment of the
particular sign to the particular conception, we must pass
by for the present, having now to do only with that for
which direct evidence is to be found in language itself, with
the historically traceable beginnings of Indo-European
speech; this question, with its various dependent questions
of a more theoretical and recondite nature, is reserved for consideration at a later time (in the eleventh lecture).
It deserves to be renewedly urged that, in this account
of the primitive stage of Indo-European language, there is
nothing which is not the result of strict and careful induction from the facts recorded in the dialects of the different
members of the family. No one's theory as to what the
beginnings of language must have been, or might naturally
have been expected to be, has had anything to do with
shaping it.  It has been a matter of much controversy
among linguistic theorizers what parts of speech language
began with; whether nouns or verbs were the first words;
but I am not aware that any acute thinker ever devised,
upon apriori grounds, a theory at all closely agreeing with
the account of the matter at which comparative philology
soon arrived through her historical researches.  That the
first traceable linguistic entities are not names of concreo




VI.]1                    ROOTS.                     261
objects, but designate actions, motions, phenomenal condi
tions, is a truth resting on authority that overrides all
preconceived theories and subjective opinions. How far and
why it is accordant with what a sound theory, founded on
our general knowledge of human nature and human speech,
would teach, and is therefore entitled to be accepted as a
satisfactory explanation of the way in which men began to
talk, we shall inquire in the lecture devoted to such subjects.
Thus is it, also, as regards the division of the roots into
two classes, pronominal and verbal: this division is sc
clearly read in the facts of language that its acceptance
cannot be resisted. Some are loth to admit it, and strive
to find a higher unity in which it shall disappear, the two
classes falling together into one; or to show how the pronominal may be relics of verbal roots, worn down by
linguistic usage to such brief form and unsubstantial significance; but their efforts must at least be accounted altogether unsuccessful hitherto, and it is very questionable
whether they are called for, or likely ever to meet with
success. As regards the purposes of our present inquiry,
the double classification is certainly primitive and absolute;
back to the very earliest period of which linguistic analysis
gives us any knowledge, roots verbal and roots pronominal
are to be recognized as of wholly independent substance,
c.haracter, and office.
But, it may very properly be asked, how do we know that
the roots which we have set up, and the others like them,
are really ultimate and original? why may they not be the
results of yet more ancient processes of linguistic change —
like love and lie, and so many others, which have been repeatedly cited, and shown to have taken in our language the
place of earlier complicated forms, such as lagamnasi and
layanti.? how should they be proved different from our word
count, for example, which we treat like an original root, ex.
panding it by means of suffixes into various forms-as ho
counts, they counted, counting, counter, countable-while yet
it is only a modern derivative from a Latin compound verb
containing a preposition, namely comnputare,'to think to.
gether, combine in thought,' got through the mediu'm of the




262              ARE THE KNOWN ROOTS              [LEOT.
French compter (where the p is stil written, though not
pronounced) —in fact, the same word as the evidently madeup compute?  Of apparent monosyllabic verbal roots like
this, which are readily proved by a little historical study to
be of polysyllabic origin, or to contain the relics of forma
tive processes, our language contains no small number:
other instances are preach from pre-dicare, vend from venumrndare, blame from Greek blas-phimein; don and doff from do
on and do off'; learn, of which the n is a passive ending,
added to lere,'teach,' whence comes lore,'doctrine;' to
throng, a denominative from the noun throng, which is
derived from thring (Anglo-Saxon thringan),'press,' lost in
our modern use (as if we were to lose sing, and substitute
for it to song, from the derived noun song); to blast, a like
denominative from blast, a derivative from blesan,'to blow,
blare;' and so on. Such are to be found also abundantly
in other languages, modern and ancient; why not as well
among the alleged Indo-European roots? Now there can
be no question whatever that such additions to the stock
of verbal expression have been produced at every period of
the growth of language, not only throughout its recorded
career, but also in times beyond the reach of historic analysis. There is not a known dialect of our family which does
not exhibit a greater or less number of seeming roots peculiar to itself; and of these the chief part may be proved, or
are to be assumed, to be of secondary origin, and not at all
entitled to lay claim to the character of relics from the original stock, lost by the sister dialects. Even the Sanskrit,
upon which we have mainly to rely for our restoration of
Indo-European roots, possesses not a few which are such
only in seeming, which are of special Aryan or Indian
growth, and valueless for the construction of general IndoEuropean etymologies. And, yet farther, among those very
radical syllables whose presence in the tongues of all the
branches proves them a possession of the original community before its dispersion, there are some which show the
clearest signs of secondary formation. As a single example,
let us take the root man,'think' (in Latin me-mrin-i, mon.
eo, mens; Greek men-os, man-ti8; Lithuanian men. u; lMoao,




V1.3              ABSOLUTELY ORIGINAL?             263
Gothic man, German mnein-en, our I mean): distinct analo.
gies lead us to see in it a development-probably through a
derivative noun, of which it is the denominative-of' the
older root md, meaning either'to make' or' to measure;'
a designation for the mental process having been won by
figuratively regarding it as a mental manufacture or produce
tion, or else as an ideal mensuration of the object of thought,
a passing from point to point of it, in estimation of its
dimension and quality. Some linguistic scholars go much
farther than others in their attempts at analyzing the IndoEuropean roots, and referring them to more primitive elements; all the methods of secondary origin which we have
illustrated above have been sought for and thought to be
recognized among them; and there are those who are unwilling to believe that any absolutely original root can have
ended otherwise than in a vowel, or begun with more than
a single consonant, and who therefore regard all radical
syllables not conforming with their norm as the product of
composition or fusion with formative elements. We need
not here enter into the question as to the justice of these
extreme views, or a criticism  of the work of the rootanalysts; we are compelled at any rate to concede that the
results of growth are to be seen among even the earliest
traceable historical roots; that we must be cautious how we
claim ultimateness for any given radical syllable, unless we
can succeed in establishing an ultimate and necessary tie
between it and the idea it represents; and that the search
after the absolutely original in human speech is a task of
the most obscure and recondite character.
But these concessions do not impair our claim that theo
inflective structure of Indo-European speech is built up
upon a historical foundation of monosyllabic roots. If the
particular roots to which our analysis brings us are not in
all cases the products of our ancestors' first attempts at
articulation, they are at any rate of the same kind with
these, and represent to us the incipient stage of speech. If
in every dissyllable whose history we can trace we recognize
a compound structure, if in every nominal and verbal form
we find a formative element which gives it character as




264                ROOTS THE GERMS                [LCT.,
noun or verb, then we must believe that the germs out of
which our language grew were not more complicated than
single syllables, and that they possessed no distinct charac.
ter as nouns or verbs, but were equally convertible into both.
Our researches are only pointed a step farther back, without
a change of method or result.  That in these roots we
approach very near to, if we do not quite touch, the actual
beginnings of speech, is proved by other considerations. In
order to bring into any language new apparent roots, and
give them mobility by clothing them with inflections, a
system of inflections must have been already elaborated by
use with other roots in other forms. We cannot apply our
d as sign of the imperfect tense to form such words as I
electri.,ed, I telegraphed, until we have worked down our
preterit did, in substance and meaning, to such a mere formative element. And when we have traced the suffix back
until we find it identical with the independent word out of
which it grew, we know that we are close upon the beginning of its use, and have before us virtually that condition
of the language in which its combinations were first made.
So also with the adverbial suffix ly, when we have followed
it up to Ulce, a case of the adjective lic,'like.' Now, in
connection with the roots of which examples have been given
above, we see in actual process of elaboration the genera.
system of Indo-European inflection, the most ancient,
fundamental, and indispensable part of our grammatical
apparatus; and we infer that these roots and their like are
the foundation of our speech, the primitive material out of
which its high and complicated fabric has been reared.  It
is not possible to regard them as the worn-down relics of a
previous career of inflective development.  The English, it
is true, has been long tending, through the excessive prevalence of the wearing-out processes, toward a state of flectionless monosyllabism; but such a monosyllabism, where the
grammatical categories are fully distinguished, where relational words and connectives abound, where every vocable
inherits the character which the former possession of inflection has given it, where groups of related terms are applied
to related uses, is a very different thing from a primitive




vII.]             OF INFLECT:IONAL GROWTH.                   265
monosyllabilsm  like that to which the linguistic analyst is
conducted by his researches among the earliest representatlves of Indo-European language; and he finds no  more
difficulty in distinguishing the one  from  the other, and
recognizing the true character of each, than does the geologist in distinguishing a primitive crystalline formation from
a conglomerate, composed of well-worn pebbles, of diverse
origin and composition, and containing fragments of earlier
and later fossils. If the English were strictly reduced to
its words of one syllable, it would still contain an abundant
repertory of developed parts of speech, expressing every
variety of idea, and illustrating  a  rich phonetic system.
The Indo-European roots are not parts of speech, but of
indeterminate character, ready to be shaped into nouns and
verbs by the aid of affixes; they are limited in signification
to a single class of ideas, the physical or sensual, the phenomenal, out of which the intellectual and moral develop
themselves by still traceable processes; and in them is
represented a system of articulated sounds of great simplicity. It will be not uninstructive to set down here, for
comparison with the spoken alphabet of our modern English, already given (see p. 91), that scanty scheme of articulations, containing but three vowels and twelve consonants,
which alone is discoverable in the earliest Indo-European
language; it is as follows:
a
aI,~~  f        Vowels.
1,'          Semivowel.
n  m      Nasals.
ha                               Aspiration.
*  8                  Sibilant.
g          d          b         Mutes.
k          t          p
* The aspiration is not found as a separate letter, but only in close com.
bination with the mutes, forming the aspirated mutes gh, dh, bi, and (probably
ky later development) kh, th, ph. TLese aspirates, though historically they
ame independent and important members of the system of spoken sounds, 1
har e not given separatfely in the scheme, because phonetically they are com.
pound, containing tt e aspiration as a distinctly audible element following
the mute.




266             DEVELOPMENT OF SPEECH.            LLECT.
These are the sounds which are distinguished from one
another by the most marked differences, which our organs
most readily utter, and which are most universally found in
human speech: all others are of later origin, having grown
out of these in the course of the phonetic changes which
words necessarily undergo, as they pass from one generation's keeping to another's.  Our race has learned, as we
may truly express it, by long ages of practice, of both mouth
and ear, what the child now learns, by imitation and instruction, in a few months or years: namely, to add to its
first easy utterances others more nicely differentiated, and
produced by a greater effort of the organs. In like manner, starting from the mere rudiments of expression in
radical monosyllables, the tribes of our family have acquired,
through centuries and thousands of years of effort, the distinction and designation of innumerable shades of meaning,
the recognition and representation of a rich variety of
relations, in the later wealth of their inflective tonguesresources which, being once won, the child learns to wield
dexterously even before he is full grown. It will be our
next task to review the steps by which our language ad.
vanced out of its primitive monosyllabic stage, by which it
acquired the character of inflective speech. To follow out
the whole process in detail would be to construct in full
the comparative grammar and history of the Indo-European
dialects-a task vastly too great for us to grapple with here;
we can only direct our attention to some of the principal
and characteristic features of the development.
The first beginning of polysyllabism seems to have been
made by compounding together roots of the two classes
already described, pronominal and verbal. Thus were produced true forms, in which the indeterminate radical idea
received a definite significance and application. The addition, for example, to the verbal root vak,'speaking,' of
pronominal elements mi, si, ti (these are the earliest historically traceable forms of the endings: they were probably
yet earlier ma, sa, ta), in which ideas of the nearer and
remoter relation, of the first, second, and third persons, were
already distinguished, produced combinations vakemi, vaksi,




vII.]          GROWTH OF VERBAL FORMS.               267
vakti, to which usage assigned the meaning' I here speak,''thou there speakest,''he yonder speaks,' laying in them
the idea of predication or assertion, the essential characteristic which makes a verb instead of a noun, just as we put
the same into the ambiguous element love, when we say 1
love. Other pronominal elements, mainly of compound
form, indicating plurality of subject, made in like manner
the three persons of the plural: they were snasi (ma-si,'Ithou,' i.e.'we'), tasi (ta-si,'he-thou,' i.e.'ye'), and anti
(of more doubtful genesis). A dual number of the same
three persons was likewise added; but the earliest form and
derivation of its endings cannot be satisfactorily made out.
Thus was produced the first verbal tense, the simplest and
most immediate of all derivative forms from  roots.  The
various shapes which its endings have assumed in the later
languages of the family have already more than once been
referred to, in the way of illustration of the processes of
linguistic growth: our th or s, in he goeth or goes, still distinctly represents the ti of the third person singular; and
in am we have a solitary relic of the mi of the first. Doubtless the tense was employed at the outset as general pre.
dicative form, being neither past, present, nor future but
all of them combined, and doing duty as either, according
as circumstances required, and as sense and connection
explained; destitute, in short, of any temporal or modal
character; but other verbal forms by degrees grew out of
it, or allied themselves with it, assuming the designation of
other modifications of predicative meaning, and leaving to
it the office of an indicative present. The prefixion of a
pronominal adverb, a or d, the so-called " augment," pointing to a'there' or'then' as one of the conditions of the
action signified, produced a distinctively past or preterit
tense. Although only very scanty and somewhat dubious
traces of such an augment-preterit (aorist or imperfect) are
found in any languages of the family beside the Aryan and
the Greek, it is looked upon as an original formation, once
shared by them  all.  Again, the repetition of the root,
either complete, or by " reduplication," as we term it, the
repetition of its initial part, was made to indicate symboli,




268                      GROWTH OF                      [LEoT
cally the completion of the action signified by the root, and
furnished another past tense, a perfect: for example, from
the  root dd,'give,' Sanskrit daddtu, Greek dedlka, Latin
dedi; from  dha,' put, make,' Greek tetheika, Old HighGerman teta, Anglo-Saxon dide, our did. This reduplicated
perfect, as is well known, is a regular part of the scheme of
Greek conjugation; in the Latin, not a few  of the oldest
verbs show the same, in full, or in more or less distinct
traces; the Mceso-Gothic has preserved it in a considerable
number of verbs (for example, in haihald,' held,' from haldan,'hold;' saislep,'slept,' from  slepan,'sleep'); in the other
Germanic dialects it is nearly confined to the single word
did, already quoted.   Moods were added by degrees: a
conjunctive, having for its sign a union-vowel, a, interposed
between root and endings, and bearing perhaps a symbolical
meaning; and an optative, of which the sign is i or ia in the
same position, best explained as a verbal root, meaning'wish, desire.'  From this optative descends the " subjunctive" of all the Germanic  dialects.  The earliest future
appears to have been made by compounding with the root
the already developed optative of the verb'to be,' as-yd.mi;
for'I shall call,' then, the language literally said'I may be
calling' (vak-s-yd —mi).  Of primitive growth, too, was a reflexive or " middle " voice, characterized by an extension of
the personal endings, which is most plausibly explained as a
repetition of them, once as subject and once as object: thus,
vak-mai, for vak-ma-mi,' call-I-me,' i.e.' I call myself:' it
was also soon employed in a passive sense,' I am called'as reflexives, of various age and form, have repeatedly been
so employed, or have been converted into distinct passives,
in the history of Indo-European language.*   Other secondary forms of the verb, as intensives, desideratives, causatives, were created by various modifications of the root,
or compositions with other roots; yet such verbal derivatives have played only a subordinate part in the develop.
* The Latin passive, for instance, is of reflexive origin, as is that of the
Scandinavian Germanic dialects. Among modern European tongues, the
Italian is especially noticeable for its familiar use of reflexive phrases in a
passive sense; thus, si dice,' it says itself;! for' it is said.'




VI.]J                VERBAL FORMS.                  269
ment of the languages of our family, and need not be dwelt
upon here. Of more consequence is the frequent formation
of a special theme for the present tense, to which was then
added a corresponding imperfect, made by means of the
augment. This was accomplished in various ways: either
by vowel-increment (as in Greek leipi, from lip,' leave'),
by reduplication (as in Greek daddmi, from dd: the repeti.
tion of the root doubtless indicated repetition or continuity
of the action), or by the addition or even insertion of form.
ative elements (as in Greek deiknumi from dik,'point out,'
Sanskrit yunajmi from yuj,'join;' Greek gignosco, Latin
gnosco, from gnd,' know'); these last are, at least in part,
noun-suffixes, and the forms they make are by origin de.
nominatives.
Of this system of primitive verbal forms, produced before
the separation of the family into branches, almost every
branch has abandoned some part, while each has also new
forms of its own to show, originated partly for supplying the
place of that which was lost, partly in order to fill up the
scheme to greater richness, and capacity of nicer and more
varied expression.  The Greek verb is, among them all, the
most copious in its wealth, the most subtle and expressive
in its distinctions: it has lost hardly anything that was
original, and has created a host of new forms, some of which
greatly tax the ingenuity of the comparative philologist who
would explain their genesis.  The Latin follows not very
far behind, having made up its considerable losses, and supplied some new uses, by combinations of secondary growth:
such are its imperfect in ham, its future in bo, and its derivative perfects in ui and si, in all of which are seen the
results of composition with the roots of the substantive
verb. Both these are greatly superior to the Sanskrit, in
copiousness of forms, and in preciseness of their application.
The Germanic verb was reduced at one period almost to the
extreme of poverty, having saved only the ancient present,
which was used also in the sense of a future, and a preterit,
the modern representative of the original reduplicated perfect; each of the two tenses having also its subjunctive
mood.  The existing dialects of the branch have supplied a




270               GROWTH OF NOUNS                 [LECN,
host of new expressions for tense and mood by the extensive
employment of auxiliaries, which, in their way, afford an ad
mirable analytic substitute for the old synthetic forms. To
trace out and describe in full the history of the IndoEuropean verb, in these and in the other branches of the
family, showing the contractions and expansions which
it has undergone, down even to such recent additions as the
future of the Romanic tongues, and our own preterit in d
(the reason and method of whose creation have been ex.
plained above, in the third lecture), would be a most inter.
esting and instructive task; but it is one which we may not
venture here to undertake.
To follow back to its very beginnings the genesis of nouns,
and of the forms of nouns, is much more difficult than to
explain the origin of verbal forms.  Some nouns-of which
the Latin vox (voc-s),'a calling, a voice,' and rex (rey-s),'one ruling, a king,' are as familiar examples as any within
our reach-are produced directly from the roots, by the addition of a different system of inflectional endings; the idea
of substantiation or impersonation of the action expressed
by the root being arbitrarily laid in them by usage, as was
the idea of predication in the forms of the verb. The two
words we have instanced may be taken as typical examples
of the two classes of derivatives coming most immediately
and naturally from the root: the one indicating the action
itself, the other, either adjectively or substantively, the
actor; the one being of the nature of an infinitive, or abstract verbal noun, the other of a participle, or verbal adjec-.live, easily convertible into an appellative.  Even such
derivatives, however, as implying a greater modification of
the radical idea than is exhibited by the simplest verbal
forms, appear to have been from the first mainly made by
means of formative elements, suffixes of derivation, comparable with those which belong to the moods and tenses, and
the secondary conjugations of the verb.  Precisely what
these suffixes were, in their origin and primitive substance
and what were the steps of the process by which they lost
their independence, and acquired their peculiar value as
modifying elements, it is not in most cases feasible to tel




vII.]           AND DECLENSIONAL FORMS.              271
But they were obviously in great part of pronominal origin,
and in the acts of linguistic usage which stamped upon
theni their distinctive value there is much which would
seem abrupt, arbitrary, or even perhaps inconceivable, to one
who has not been taught by extensive studies among various
tongues how violent and seemingly far-fetched are the mutations and transfers to which the material of linguistic structure is often submitted-on how remote an analogy, how
obscure a suggestion, a needed name or form is sometimes
founded.  Verbal roots, as well as pronominal, were certainly also pressed early into the same service: composition
of root with root, of derived form with form, the formation
of derivative from derivative, went on actively, producing in
sufficient variety the means of limitation and individualization of the indeterminate radical idea, of its reduction
to appellative condition, so as to be made capable of designating by suitable names the various beings, substances, acts,
bstates, and qualities, observed both in the world of matter
and in that of mind.
This class of derivatives from roots was provided with
another, a movable, set of suffixes, which we call case-endings, terminations of declension. Where, as in the case of
our two examples vox and rex, the theme of declension was
coincident with the verbal root, the declensional endings
themselves were sufficient to mark the distinction of noun
from verb, without the aid of a suffix of derivation. They
formed a large and complicated system, and were charged
with the designation of various relations. In the first place,
they indicated case, or the kind of relation sustained by the
noun to which they were appended to the principal action of
the sentence in which it was used, whether as subject, as direct object, or as indirect object with implication of meanings
which we express by means of prepositions, such as with,from,
in, of. Of cases thus distinguished there were seven. Three
of them distinctly indicated local relations: the ablative (of
which the earliest traceable form has t or d for its ending:
thus, Sanskrit afvdt, Old Latin equod,'from  a horse')
denoted the relation expressed by from; the locative (with
the ending i), that expressed by in; the instrumental (with




272                   GROWTH OF                   [LEoM.
the ending a), that expressed by with, or by-the idea of
adjacency or accompaniment passing naturally into that of
means, instrument, or cause. Two cases, the dative and
genitive, designated relations of a less physical character:
the former (with the ending ai) we should render byfor before the noun; the latter (its ending is asya or as) expressed
general pertinence or possession. Then the accusative (with
the sign m) assumed the office of indicating the directest
dependent relation, that which even with us is expressed
without the aid of a preposition-the objective-as well as
that most immediate relation of motion which we signify by
to.  The nominative, finally, has also its ending, s, in the
presence of which is strikingly exhibited the tendency of
the earliest Indo-European language to make every vocable
a true form, to give to every theme, in every relation, a sign
of its mode of application, a formative element. Besides
these seven proper cases, the vocative or interjectional case,
the form of address, also makes a part of the scheme of declension; it has no distinctive ending, but is identical with
the theme or the nominative case, or is only phonetically
altered from them.
The declensional endings which we have instanced are
those of the singular number. To explain their origin in
any such way as shows us their precise value as independent
elements, and the nature of the act of transfer by which they
were made signs of case-relations, is not practicable. Pro.
nominal elements are distinctly traceable in most of them,
and may have assumed something of a prepositional force
before their combination.  The genitive affix is very likely
to have been at the first, like many genitive affixes of later
date in the history of the Indo-European languages, one
properly forming a derivative adjective: and it is not im.
possible that the dative ending was of the same nature.
There are many existing tongues which have for the
plurals of their nouns precisely the same case-endings as for
the singular, only adding them along with a special piural.
izirig suffix. The attempt has been made* to find such a
* By Professor Schleicher, in his Compendium of Indo-Eurlepan Carn
parative Grammar




TI.]              DEMC:NSIONAL FORMS.                273
plural-suffix also among the plural endings of our earliest
nouns, but with only faint and doubtful success; if these
are actually of composite derivation, the marks of their
composition are hidden almost beyond hope of discovery.
We must be content to say for the present, at least, that
the suffixes of declension indicate,y their differences the
distinctions of number as well as f case. And, among the
nouns as well as the verbs of tile primitive language, not
only a plural, but also a dual, was distinguished from the
singular by its appropriate endings, which are of not less
problematical derivation, and, in the earliest condition of
speech that we can trace, much fewer in number, being
limited to three.
One other distinction, that of gender, was partially dependent for its designation upon the case-endings. We
have already (in the third lecture) had occasion to iefer to
the universal classification of objects named, by the earliest
language-makers of our family, according to gender, as masculine, feminine, or neuter-a classification only partially
depending upon the actual possession of sexual qualities, and
exhibiting, in the modern dialects which have retained it, an
aspect of almost utter and hopeless arbitrariness. Nor, as
was before remarked, is it possible even in the oldest IndoEuropean tongues to trace and point out otherwise than
most dimly and imperfectly the analogies, apparent or fanciful, which have determined the grammatical gender of the
different words and classes of words: such is the difficulty
and obscurity of the subject that we must avoid here entering into any details respecting it. It appears that, in the
first place, from the masculine, as the fundamental form,
certain words were distinguished as possessed of feminine
qualities, and marked by a difference of derivative ending,
often consisting in a prolongation of the final vowel of the
ending; while to all the derivatives formed by certain endings like qualities were attributed. The distinction was
doubtless made in the beginning by the endings of derivation
alone, those of case having no share in it; but it passed
over to some extent into those of case also, the feminine
here again showing a tendency to broader and fuller forms.
18




274             CHANGES OF DECLENSION.            [LaI,
The separation of neuter from masculine was both later in
origin and less substantially marked, having little to do with
suffixes of derivation, and extending through only a small
part of the declensional endings (it is mainly limited to the
nominative and accusative).
This system of Indo-European declension has suffered not
less change in the history of the various branches of the
family than has that of conjugational inflection. The dual
number was long ago given up, as of insignificant practical
value, by most of the branches: the oldest Aryan dialects
exhibit it most fully; it also makes some figure in ancient
Greek; but even the most antique Germanic tongues have
a dual only in the personal pronouns of the first and second
persons; and the Latin shows but the faintest traces of it
(in the peculiar nominative and accusative endings of duo,'two,' and ambo,'both').  As regards, again, the cases, the
complete scheme only appears in the Indian and Persian;
and even there the process of its reduction has begun, by
the fusion, in one or another number, and in one or another
class of words, of two cases into one-that is to say, the
loss of the one as a distinct form, and the transference
of its functions to another.  In the oldest known condition
of the classic tongues, this process has gone yet farther; in
Latin, the locative and instrumental are thus fused with the
dative and ablative; and in Greek, the genitive and abla.
tive have been also compressed into one. The oldest
Germanic dialects have nominative, accusative, genitive, and
dative; with traces of the instrumental, which the later
tongues have lost. But the modern development of the
prepositions, and their rise to importance as independent
indicators of the relations formerly expressed by the case.
endings, has brought with it a yet more sweeping abandonment of the latter. We, in English, have saved a single
oblique case, the ancient genitive, so restricting its use at
the same time as to make a simple " possessive " of it —and
further, among the pronouns, an accusative or "objective"
(me, ~us, etc., and whom); in the Romanic languages, the
noun has become wholly stripped of case-inflection.  In
what manner we have rid ourselves of the distinctions of




fII]3              PARTS OF SPEECH.                 275
grammatical gender has been shown in a previous lecture
(tlle third): we still keep up a linguistic distinction of
natural gender by the use of our generic pronouns of the
third person, he, she, and it; the modern Persian has
abandoned even that, and the consideration of sex no longer
enters into it in any way, save in the vocabulary, in the use
of such words as son and daughter, bull and cow. Of the
other modern tongues of the family, some, like these two,
have eliminated from their grammatical systems the distinctions of gender; some, like the French, have reduced the
three genders to two, by effacing the differences of masculine and neuter; but the larger part, like the German, still
faithfully adhere to the inherited distinction of masculine,
feminine, and neuter, so long ago established.
The ancient Indo-European language made no difference,
as regarded declension, between its two classes of nouns,
nouns substantive and nouns adjective.  In their genesis,
the two are but one; the same suffixes, to no small extent,
form both; each passes by the most easy and natural transfer
into the other; whether a given word indicating the possession of quality should be used attributively or predicatively,
or as an appellative, was a question of subordinate consequence. The pronouns, also, both substantive and adjective, were inflected by a declension mainly corresponding,
although marked by some peculiarities, and tending earlier
to irregular forms.
With conjugation and declension, the subject of gram.
matical structure is, in fact, as good as exhausted: everything in language is originally either verb or noun. To the
other parts of speech, then, which have been developed out
of these, we shall need to give but a brief consideration.
Adverbs, the most ancient and necessary class of indeclinable words, or particles, are by origin, in the earliest stage
of language as in the latest, forms of declension, cases of
substantives, or adjectives, or pronouns. We have seen
already how our adverbs in ly were elaborated out of former
oblique cases (instrumentals) of adjectives in IUc ('like');
so also the usual adverbial ending mnent of the Romanic
languages is the Latin ablative mente,' with mind' (thus
18 *




276            DEVELOPMENT OF PARTICLES.          [LEYT,
French bonnement,'kindly,' is bond mente,'with kind in.
tent'); the 5s which forms Greek adverbs (for example,
kakcs,' ill,' from kakos,' bad') is the original ablative caseending: and we are doubtless to infer that both the general
classes of adverbs, made by means of apparent adverbial
suffixes, and the more irregular and obscure single words, of
kindred meaning and office, which we trace in the earliest
vocabulary of the family, are of like derivation.  Those
parts of speech which we call prepositions were originally
such, not in our present understanding of the term, but
according to its etymological signification; they were adverbial prefixes to the verb, serving to point out more
clearly the direction of the verbal action; it was only later,
and by degrees, that they detached themselves from the
verb, and came to belong to the noun, furthering the dis.
appearance of its case-endings, and assuming their office.
The earliest of them, as was to be expected from their
designation of direction, trace their origin chiefly to pro.
nominal roots; but in part, also, they come from verbal.
Conjunctions, connectives of sentences, are almost altogether
of comparatively late growth; the earliest style was too
simple to call for their use: we have seen examples already
(in the third lecture) of the mode in which they were
arrived at, by attenuation of the meaning of words possessing by origin a more full and definite significance. Other
products of a like attenuation, made generally at a decidedly
modern date, are the articles: the definite article always
growing out of a demonstrative pronoun; the indefinite,
out of the numeral one.
The interjections, finally, however expressive and pregnant
with meaning they may be, are not in a proper sense parts
of speech; they do not connect themselves with other words,
and enter into the construction of sentences; they are
either the direct outbursts of feeling, like oh! ah! or else,
like st! sh! mere " vocal gestures," immediate intimations
of will-in both cases alike, substitutes for r ore elaborate
and distinct expression.  They require, however, to  be
referred to here, not merely for the sake of completeness,
but also because many words come to be employed only




nI.]             RATE OF DEVELOPMENT.               277
interjectionally which were once full parts of speech; eNen a
whole phrase being, as it were, reduced to a single pregnantly uttered exclamation: examples are alas! that is, 0
tme lasso,' oh weary me!' zounds!' I swear by God's wounds,'
dear me! that is, dio mio,'my God!' and many others.
Such are, compendiously and briefly stated, the steps by
which Indo-European language was developed out of monosyllabic weakness into the wealth and fertility of inflective speech
At what rate they went on, how rapid was the growth after
its first inception, we know not, and we can hardly hope
ever to know.  The conditions of that primitive period, and
the degree in which they might have been able to quicken the
now sluggish processes of word-combination and formation,
are so much beyond our ken that even our conjectures
respecting them have-at least as yet-too little value to be
worth recording.  What may have been the numbers of the
community which laid the foundation of all the Indo-European tongues, and what its relation to other then existing
communities, are also points hitherto involved in the deepest
obscurity.  But we know  that, before the  separation,
whether simultaneous or successive, of this community into
the parts which afterward became founders of the different
tongues of Europe and south-western Asia, the principal
part of the linguistic development had already taken placeenough for its traces to remain ineffaceable, even to the
present day, in the speech of all the modern representatives
of the family: the inflective character of Indo-European
language, the main distinctions of its parts of speech, its
methods of word-formation and inflection, were elaborated
and definitely established.
But, though we cannot pretend to fix the length of time
required for this process of growth, in terms of centuries or
of thousands of years, we can at least see c'early that it
faust lhave gone on in a. slow and gradual manner, and
occupied no brief period.  Such is the nature of the forces
by which all change in language has been shown to be
effected, that anything like a linguistic revolution, a rapid
and sweeping modification of linguistic structure, is wholly
impossible-and most especially, a revolution of a constrlc.t.




278              RATE OF DEVELOPMENT.             [L$EC
Wve character, building up a fabric of words and forms,
Every item of the difference by which a given dialect is dis.
tinguished from its ancestor, or from another dialect having
the same ancestry, is the work of a gradual change of usage
made by the members of a community in the speech which
they were every day employing as their means of mutual
communication, and which, if too rapidly altered, would not
answer the purposes of communication.  It takes time for
even that easiest of changes, a phonetic corruption or abbreviation, to win the assent of a community, and become
established as the law of their speech: it takes decades, and
even generations, or centuries, for an independent word
to run through the series of modifications in form and meaning which are necessary to its conversion into a formative element.  That the case was otherwise at the very beginning,
we have not the least reason for believing.  The opinion of
those who hold that the whole structure of a language was
produced "at a single stroke " is absolutely opposed to all
the known facts of linguistic history; it has no inductive
basis whatever; it rests upon arbitrary assumption, and
is supported by apriori reasoning.  There must have been
a period of some duration-and, for aught we know, it may
have been of very long duration-when the first speakers of
our language talked together in their scanty dialect of formless monosyllables. The firstforms, developed words containing a formal as well as a radical element, cannot have
come into existence otherwise than by slow degrees, worked
out by the unconscious exercise of that ingenuity in the
adaptation of means to ends, of that sense for symmetry, for
finished, even artistic, production, which have ever been
qualities especially characterizing our division of the human
race.  Every form thus elaborated led the way to others: it
helped to determine a tendency, to establish an analogy,
which facilitated their further production. A protracted
career of formal development was run during that primitive
period of Indo-European history which preceded the dispersion of the branches: words and forms were multiplied
until even a maximum of synthetic complexity, of fullness of
infiestivo wealth, had been reached, from which there has




,ri.]           ANALYTICAL TENDEONY.               279
been in later times, upon the whole, a gradual descent and
impo verishment.
Here we must pause a little, to consider an objection
arged by some linguistic scholars of rank and reputation
against the truth of the views we have been defending, as to
the primitive monosyllabism of Indo-European language,
and its gradual emergence out of that condition-an objection which has more apparent legitimacy and force than any
of those hitherto noticed. It is this. In ascending the
current of historical development of the languages of our
family, say the objectors, instead of approaching a monosyllabic condition, we seem to recede farther and farther from
it. The older dialects are more polysyllabic than the later:
where our ancestors used long and complicated forms, we
are content with brief ones, or we have replaced them with
phrases composed of independent words. Thus, to recur
once more to a former example, for an earlier lagamasi we
say we lie; thus, again, for the Latin fuisset, the French
says simply fit, while we express its meaning by four distinct words, he might have been.  Modern languages are full
of verbal forms of this latter class, which substitute syntac.
tical for substantial combinations. The relations of case, too,
formerly signified only by means of declensional endings,
have lost by degrees this mode of expression, and have come
to be indicated by prepositions, independent words. This is
what is well known as the " analytical " tendency in linguistic growth. Our own English tongue exhibits its effects in
the highest known degree, having reduced near half the
vocabulary it possesses to a monosyllabic form, and got rid of
almost all its inflections, so that it expresses grammatical
relations chiefly by relational words, auxiliaries and connectives: but it is only an extreme example of the results of a
movement generally perceptible in modern speech. If, then,
during the period when we can watch their growth step by
step, languages have become less synthetic, words less polysyllabic, must we not suppose that it was always so; that
human speech began with highly complicated forms, which
from the very first have been undergoing reduction to simpier and briefer shape?




280'           ENDENCY TO ANALYTICAL           [LEOT
This is, as we have confessed, a plausible argument, but it
is at the same time a thoroughly unsound and superficial
one. It skims the surface of linguistic phenomena, without
penetrating to the causes which produce them. It might
pass muster, and be allowed to determine our opinions, if
the analytical tendency alone had been active since our
knowledge of language began; if we had seen old forms
worn out, but no new forms made; if we had seen words
put side by side to furnish analytic combinations, but no
elements fused together into synthetic union.  But we
know by actual experience how both synthetic and analytic
forms are produced, and what are the influences and circumstances which favour the production of the one rather than
of the other.  The constructive as well as the destructive
forces in language admit of illustration, and have been by
us illustrated, with modern as well as with ancient examples.
Both have been active together, during all the ages through
which we can follow linguistic growth. There have never
been forms which were not undergoing continual modifica.
tion and mutilation, under the influence of the already
recognized tendencies to forget the genesis of a word in its
later application, and then to reduce it to a shape adapted to
more convenient utterance; there was also never a time
when reparation was not making for this waste in part
by the fresh development of true forms out of old materials.
Nor has the tendency been everywhere and in all respects
downward, toward poverty of synthetic forms, throughout
the historic period.  If the Greek and Latin system of de.
clension is scantier than that of the original language of the
family, their system of conjugation, especially the Greek, is
decidedly richer, filled up with synthetic forms of secondary
growth; the modern Romanic tongues have lost something
of this wealth, but they have also added something to it,
and their verb, leaving out of view its compound tenses, will
bear favourable comparison with that which was the common
inheritance of the branches.  Some of the modern dialects
of India, on the other hand, having once lost, in The ordinary
course of phonetic corruption, the ancient case-terminations
of the Sanskrit, have replaced them by a new scheme, not




~II.]            FORMS OF EXPRESSION.                281
less full and complete than its predecessor. The Russian of
the present day possesses in some respects a capacity of
synthetic development hardly, if at all, excelled by that of any
ancient tongue. For example, it takes the two independent
words bez Boya,' without God,' and fuses them into a theme
from which it draws a whole list of derivatives.  Thus, first,
by adding an adjective suffix, it gets the adjective bezbozhniil,'godless;' a new  suffix appended to this makes a noun,
bezbozhnik,'a godless person, an atheist;' the noun gives
birth to a denominative verb, bezbozhnichat,' to be an atheist;'
from this verb, again, come a number of derivatives, giving
to the verbal idea the form  of adjective, agent, act, and
so on: the abstract is bezbozhnichestvo,'the condition of
being an atheist;' while, once more, a new verb is made
from this abstract, namely bezbozhnichestvovat, literally'to be
in the condition of being a godless person.'  A more intri.
cate synthetic form than this could not easily be found in
Greek, Latin, or Sanskrit; but it is no rare or exceptional
case in the language from which we have extracted it;
it rather represents, by a striking instance, the general char.
acter of Russian word-formation and derivation.
It is obviously futile, then, to talk of an uninterrupted
and universal reduction of the resources of synthetic expression among the languages of the Indo-European family, or
to allow ourselves to be forced by an alleged pervading
tendency toward analytic forms into accepting synthesis, inflective richness, as the ultimate condition of the primitive
tongue from which they are descended. If certain among
them have replaced one or another part of their synthetic
structure by analytic forms, if some-as the Germanic
family in general, and, above all, the English-have taken on
a prevailingly analytic character, these are facts which we
are to seek to explain by a careful study of the circumstances
and tendencies which have governed their respective development.  If, moreover, as has been conceded, the general bent
has for a long time been toward a diminution of synthesis
and a predominance of analytic expressions, another question,
of wider scope, is presented us for solution; but the form
in which it offers itself is this: why should the forces which




YO'2          IBANALYTIC AND SYNTHETIC           [LETC
produce synthetic combinations have reached their height of
activity during the ante-historic period of growth, and have
been gradually gained upon later, at varying rates in different communities, by those of another order?  We do not
in the least feel impelled to doubt the historic reality of the
earliest combinations, their parallelism, in character and
origin, with those which we see springing up in modern
times. That we now say analytically I did love, or deal, or
lead is no ground for questioning that our ancestors said
compositely I love-did, deal-did, lead-did, and then worked
them down into the true' synthetic forms I loved, dealt, led.
The cause which produced the different nature of the two
equivalent expressions I loved and I did love, composed, as
they are, of identical elements, was a difference in habit of
the language at the periods when they were respectively
generated. Any language can do what it is in the habit of
doing. We can turn almost any substantive in our vocabu.
lary into a quasi adjective-saying a gold watch, a grass
slope, a church mouse, and so on-because, through the intermediate step of loose compounds like goldsmith, grasshopper,
churchman, we have acquired the habit of looking upon our
substantives as convertible to adjective uses without alteration and without ceremony. Neither the Frenchman nor
the German can do the same thing, simply because his
speech presents no analogies for such a procedure.  We, on
the other hand, like the French, have lost the power to form
compounds with anything like the facility possessed by the
ancient tongue from which ours is descended and by some
of its modern representatives, as the German; not because
they would not be intelligible if we formed them, but because,
under the operation of traceable circumstances in our linguistic history, we have grown out of the habit of so combining our words, and into the habit of merely collocating
them, with or without connectives. Now we have only to
apply this principle upon a wider scale, and under other
conditions of language, in order to find, as I think, a sufficient answer to the question which is engaging our attention. When once, after we know not how long a period of
expectation and tentative effort, the formation of words by




VII.]            FORMS OF EXPRESSION.               283
synthesis had begun in the primitive Indo-European language, and had been found so fruitful of the means of varied
and distinct expression, it became the habit of the language.
The more numerous the new forms thus produced, the
greater was the facility of producing more, because the
material of speech was present to the minds of its speakers
as endowed with that capacity of combination and fusion of
which the results in every part of its structure were so
apparent.  But the edifice after a time became, as it were,
complete; a sufficient working-apparatus of declensional,
conjugational, and derivative endings was elaborated to
answer the purposes of an inflective tongue; fewer and rarer
additions were called for, as occasional supplements of the
scheme, or substitutes for lost forms. Thus began a period
in which the formative processes were more and more exclusively an inheritance from the past, less and less of recent
acquisition; and as the origin of forms was lost sight of, obscured by the altering processes of phonetic corruption, it became more and more difficult to originate new ones, because
fewer analogies of such forms were present to the apprehen.
sion of the language-makers, as incentives and guides to
their action.  On the other hand, the expansion of the
whole vocabulary to wealth of resources, to the possession of
varied and precise phraseology, furnished a notably increased
facility of indicating ideas and relations by descriptive
phrases, by groups of independent words. This mode of
expression, then, always more or less used along with the
other, began to gain ground upon it, and, of course, helped
to deaden the vitality of the latter, and to render it yet
more incapable of extended action. That tendency to the
conscious and reflective use of speech which comes in with
the'growth of culture especially, and which has already been
repeatedly pointed out as one of the main checks upon all
the processes of linguistic change, cast its influence in the
same direction; since the ability to change the meaning and
application of words, even to the degree of reducing them
to the expression of formal relations, is a much more funda.
mental and indefeasible property of speech than the ability
to combine and fuse them bodily together. Then, when




284            ANALYTIC AND SYNTHETIC            [LECT.
peculiar circumstances in the history of a language have
arisen, to cause the rapid and general decay and effacement
of ancient forms, as in our language and the Romanic, the
process of formative composition, though never wholly ex.
tinct, has been found too inactive to repair the losses; they
have been made up by syntactical collocation, and the
language has taken on a prevailingly analytic character.
These considerations and such as these, I am persuaded,
furnish a satisfactory explanation of the preponderating
tendency to the use of analytic forms exhibited by modern
languages; as they also account for the greatly varying
degree in which the tendency exhibits itself. But even
should they be found insufficient, this would only throw
open for a renewed investigation the question respecting the
ground of the tendency; the general facts in the history of
earliest development of our languages would still remain
sure, beyond the reach of cavil, since they are established by
evidence which cannot be gainsaid, contained in the structure
of the most ancient forms. We are compelled to believe
that the formative processes which we see going on, in decreasing abundance, in the historically recorded ages of
linguistic life, are continuations and repetitions of the same
constructive acts by which has been built up the whole
homogeneous structure of inflective speech.
One more theoretic objection to the doctrine of a primi.
tive Indo-European monosyllabism we may take the time to
notice, more on account of the respectability of its source
than for any cogency which it in itself possesses. M.
Renan, namely,* asserts that this doctrine is the product of
a mistaken habit of mind, taught us by the artificial scholastic methods of philosophizing, and leading us to regard
simplicity as, in the order of time, anterior to complexity;
while, in fact, the human mind does not begin with analysis;
its first acts being, on the contrary, complex, obscure, synthetic, containing all the parts, indistinctly heaped together.
To this claim respecting the character of the mental act we:nay safely yield a hearty assent; but, instead of inferring
In his work on the Origin of Language, seventh chapter.




V1I.]            FORMS OF EXPRESSION.                285
from it that " the idea expressed itself at the beginning with
its whole array of determinatives and in a perfect unity,"
and that hence, " in the history of languages, synthesis is
primitive, and analysis, far from being the natural form of
the human mind, is only the slow result of its development,"
we shall be conducted to a precisely contrary conclusion.
The synthetic forms which we are asked to regard as original
have not the character of something indistinctly heaped
together; they contain the clear and express designation of
the radical idea and of its important relations; they represent by a linguistic synthesis the results of a mental analysis.
The idea is, indeed, conceived in unity, involving all its aspects and relations; but these cannot be separately expressed
until the mind has separated them, until practice in the
use of language has enabled it to distinguish them, and to
mark each by an appropriate sign.  In amabor, the (Latin)
word cited as an example of synthesis, are contained precisely
the same designations as in the equivalent English analytic
phrase,' I shall be loved:' ama expresses'loving;' bo unites
future-sign and ending designating the first person; and the
r is the sign of passivity.  Who can possibly maintain that
a system of such forms, gathered about a root, exhibits the
results of experience, of developed acuteness, in thought and
speech, any less clearly than the analytic forms of our English conjugation? The two are only different methods of
expressing the same "array of determinatives." The first
synthetic mental act, on the contrary, is truly represented
by the bare root: there all is, indeed, confused and indiscrete. The earliest radical words, when first uttered, stood
for entire sentences, expressed judgments, as undeniably as the
fully elaborated phrases which we now employ, giving every
necessary relation its proper designation. It is thus that,
even at present, children begin to talk; a radical word or
two means in their mouths a whole sentence: up signifies' take me up into your lap;' go walk,' I want to go out to
walk,' or'I went to walk,' or various other things, which
the circumstances sufficiently explain; but forms, inflections,
connectives, signs of tense and mode and condition, they do
not learn to use until later, when their minds have acquired




286             LINGUISTIC DEVELOPMENT             [LEOI.
power to separate the indistinct cognition into its parts.
M. Renan, in short, has made a very strange confusion of
analytic style of expression with mental analysis: all expres.
sion of relations, whether by means that we call synthetic or
analytic, is the result and evidence of analysis; and his own
thesis respecting the complexity in obscurity of unpractised
and uninstructed thought brings us directly to a recognition
of the radical stage of Indo-European language as the necessary historical basis of its inflective development.
This development, it may be remarked in conclusion, has
been gradual and steadily progressive, being governed in
both its synthetic and analytic phases by t)ie same causes
which universally regulate linguistic growth, rend which have
been here repeatedly set forth or referred to: namely, on the
one hand, the traditional influence of the st' res of expression already worked out and handed down, c.nsisting in the
education given by them' to thought, and tie constraining
force exerted by their analogies; and, on the other hand,
the changing character and capacity, the varying circumstances and needs, of the community of spe kers, during the
different periods of their history.  It has experienced no
grand revolution, no sudden shift of directi In, no pervading
change of tendency. There is no cleft, as is sometimes
assumed, parting ancient tongues from modern, justifying the
recognition of different forces, the adz ission of different
possibilities, in the one and in the othi r. Nor are we to
regard the energies of a community as al 3orbed in the work
of language-making more at one perio than at another.
Language-making is always done uncons iouvly and by the
way, as it were: it is one of the inciden s of social life, an
accompaniment and result of intellectut [ activity, not an
end toward which effort is directed, nor a C';ask in whose performance is expended force which might have been otherwise employed. The doctrine that a race first constructs its
language, and then, and not till then, is ready to commence
its historic career, is as purely fanciful as anything in the
whole great chapter of ac priori theorizings about speech.
No living language ever ceases to be constructed, or is less
rapidly built upon in ages of historic activity: only the style




VII.]          GRADUAL AND CONTINUOUS.              287
of the fabric is, even more than the rate, determined by external circumstances. It is because the very earliest epochs
of recorded history are still far distant from the beginnings
of Indo-European language, as of human language generally, that we find its peculiar structure completely developed
when it is first discovered by our researches. We have fully
acknowledged the powerful influence exerted by culture over
the growth of language: but neither the accident of position
and accessibility to other nations that at a certain time brings
a race forward into the light of record, and makes it begin to
be an actor or a factor in the historic drama, nor its more
gradual and independent advance to conspicuousness in
virtue of acquired civilization and political power, can have
any direct effect whatever upon its speech. The more
thorough we are in our study of the living and recent forms
of human language, the more rigorous in applying the deductions thence drawn to the forms current in ante-historic
periods, the more cautious about admitting forces and effects
in unknown ages whereof the known afford us no example
or criterion, so much the more sound and trustworthy will
be the conclusions at which we shall arrive. It is but a
shallow philology, as it is a shallow geology, which explains
past changes by catastrophes and cataclysms.
We have now long enough given our almost exclusive
attention to the language of the Indo-European race, and, in
the next two lectures, shall proceed to define the boundaries
and sketch the characters, as well as we may, of the other
grand divisions of human speech.




LECTURE VIII.
h'uailies of languages, how established. Characteristic features of Indo.
European language. Semitic family: its constitution, historic value,
literatures, and linguistic character. Relation of Semitic to Indo.
European language. Scythian or Altaic family: its five branches:
their history, literatures, and character. Unity of the family somewhat doubtful.
WE have now taken a survey of the most important
phenomena of language and of linguistic growth, as they
are illustrated in the forms of speech peculiar to the Indo.
European family. We have seen in what scanty beginnings
our own tongue and those related to it had their origin, and
what, in brief, were the steps by which they advanced from
the weakness and barrenness of radical monosyllabism to the
rich completeness of inflective speech. These matters were
brought to light in the course of the regular prosecution of
our fundamental inquiry, "why we speak as we do," it
having been made to appear that our English linguistic
tradition had been, during a protracted and most important
period, one with that of all the other members of the family
mentioned.  But now, considering the possibility th:at, the
Indo-European family may be found, after all, only a constituent group in some yet vaster family-or even, supposing
that possibility to be disproved, considering the impropriety
of our so circumscribing our interests and our sympathies
as to understand by the " we " of our question anything
less than the whole human race —it becomes our duty next
to pass in review the other great linguistic families which.




hIII.]       ALL LANGUAGES HOMOGENEOUS.             289
the science of language has established, and to see wherein
they agree with that which has hitherto absorbed the chief
share of our attention, and wherein they differ from  it.
Moreover, it is clear that we should not appreciate the
peculiar character of the mode of communication and expression belonging to our family, we should not even know
that it had a distinctive character of its own, that the problem of speech was not solved in an identical manner by all
parts of the human race, if we did not look to see how the
other families have constructed the fabric of their language.
We shall, accordingly, devote the present lecture and the
one next following tc such an examination; making it, of
course, much more brief and cursory than has been our examination of Indo-European language.
There was the more reason why we should draw out with
some fullness of detail the recognized history of development of the language whi h has been most deeply studied and
is most thoroughly underdtood by linguistic scholars, inasmuch as some of the rmain results thereby won have a
universal value.  Much of that which has been demonstrated
to be true respecting Indo-European speech is to be accepted
as true respecting all human speech. Not that its historical
analysis has been everywhere made so complete as to yield
in each case with independent certainty the same results
which the study of this one family has yielded. But nothing
has been found which is of force to prove the history of
language otherwise than, in its most fundamental features,
the same throughout the globe; while much has been elicited
which favours its homogeneousness: enough, indeed, when
taken in' connection with the theoretical probabilities of
the case, to make the conclusion a sufficiently certain one,
that all the varied and complicated forms of speech which
now fill the earth have been wrought into their present
shape by a like process of gradual development; that all
designation of relations is the result of growth; that formative elements have been universally elaborated out of independent words; that the historical germs of language
everywhere are of the nature of those simple elements which
we have called roots; moreover, that roots have generally,;i
19




290                CLASSIFICATION OF              [LECT.
not without exception, been of the two classes described in
the last lecture, pronominal and verbal; and that, in the
earliest stages of growth, forms have been produced especially by the combination of roots of the two classes, the
verbal root furnishing the central and substantial idea, the
pronominal indicating its modifications and relations.
Linguistic families, now, as at present constituted, are
made up of those languages which have traceably had at
least a part of their historical development in common;
which have grown together out of the original radical or
monosyllabic stage; which exhibit in their grammatical
structure signs, still discoverable by linguistic analysis, of
having descended, by the ordinary course of linguistic tradition, from a common ancestor. We shall see hereafter (in
the tenth lecture), indeed, that the science of language does
not and cannot deny the possible correspondence of some or
all of the families in their ultimate elements, a correspondence anterior to all grammatical development; but neither
does she at present assert that correspondence. She has
carried her classification no farther than her collected
material, and her methods of sober and cautious induction
from its study, have justified her in doing; she has stopped
grouping where her facts have failed her, where evidences of
common descent have become too slight and vague to be
longer depended upon: and the limit of her power is now,
and is likely ever to be, determined by coincidences of gram.
matical structure. The boundaries of every great family,
again, are likely to be somewhat dubious; there can hardly
fail to be branches which either parted so early from the
general stock, or have, owing to peculiar circumstances in
their history, varied so rapidly and fundamentally since they
left it, that the tokens of their origin have become effaced
almost or quite beyond recognition. There was a time when
the Celtic languages were thus regarded as of doubtful
affinity, until a more penetrating study of their material and
structure brought to light abundant and unequivocal evidence of their Indo-European descent. The Albanian, the
modern representative of the ancient Illyrian, spoken by the
fierce and lawless race which inhabits the mountains of




nll.]           LANGUAGEa   BY FAMILIES.             291
north-western Greece, is still in the same position; linguistic
scholars are divided in opinion as to whether it is yet proved
to be Indo-European, though- with a growing preponderance
upon the affirmative side. Examples of excessive and effacing
differentiation are not wanting in existing speech. There
are now spoken among barbarous peoples in different parts
of the world-as on some of the islands of the Pacific,
among the African tribes, and the aborigines of this con.
tinent-dialects in which the processes of linguistic change,
the destruction and reconstruction of words and forms, are
going on at a rate so abnormally rapid, that a dialect, it is
said, becomes unintelligible in a generation or two; and in a
few centuries all material trace of affinity between idioms of
common descent may become blotted out. Such exceptional
cases do not take away the value of the genetic method of
investigation, nor derogate from the general certainty of its
results in the classification of languages. But they do cause
the introduction, cautiously and to a limited extent, of
another indication of probable relationship: namely, concordance in the general method of solution of the linguistic
problem. It is found that the great families of related
languages differ from one another, not only in the linguistic
material which they employ, in the combinations of sounds
out of which, back to the remotest traceable beginning, they
make their radical and formative elements, and designate
given meanings and relations, but also, and often to no small
degree, in their way of managing their material; in their
apprehension of the relations of ideas which are to be expressed ljs the combination of elements, and in the method
in which they apply the resources they possess to the
expression of relations: they differ in the style, as well as
the substance, of their grammatical structure. It is evident
that the style may be so peculiar and characteristic as to
constitute valid evidence of family relationship, even where
the substance has been altered by variation and substitution
till it presents no trustworthy coincidences. We shall have
occasion to note and examine, farther on, some of the cases
in which reliance is placed upon morphological correspondences, as they are called, upon correspondences of structural
19'




292                CHARACTERISTICS OF              [LECT.
form; and also to refer to the morpholog'cal classifications
of human languages which are founded upon them-classifi.
cations which mainly coincide with genetic, but also more or
less comnbine and overlap them.
The main characteristic features of the structure of IndoEuropean language are readily enough deducible from the
exposition given in the preceding lecture.  It generates its
forms by the intimate combination of elements originally independent; in this respect agreeing with nearly all other
known tongues. In its combinations, moreover, the formative element is almost invariably added after the radical,
forming a suffix; the only noteworthy exceptions are the
augment of the primitive preterit tense of the verb, the
negative prefix (our un, in, in unthankful, incapable, and the
like), and the more separable elements which we call prepositions (in intend, pretend, extend, distend, and so forth): and
here, too, its usage is paralleled by that of the majority of
spoken languages throughout the world. A more distinctive
characteristic of Indo-European language is the peculiar
aptitude which it possesses for closely combining its radical
and formal elements, for losing sight of their separate individuality, and applying their combination as independent
conventional sign of the object indicated. It disembarrasses
itself of useless reminiscences of the former status and
quality of its elements, fuses them completely together, and
exposes the result, as one whole, to the action of all the
wearing and altering processes of linguistic life. In different
constituents of the dialects of our family, in different dialects, and in different stages of their history, this tendency
is seen exhibited in very different degree. In our own
tongue, for instance, in such words as fully, thankfully, anthankfulness, the combined elements are held distinctly
apart, and are present in their separate substance and office
to the mind of any one who reflects a moment upon the
words; on the other hand, in ken and can, in sit and set, in
man and men, in lead and led, in sing, sang, sung, and sang,
in bind, bounld, band, and bond, and other like cases, the
fusion has gone to its utmost extent: various combinations
of subordinate elements with the roots of these words have




vII.]         INDO-EUErOPEAN LANGUAGE.             293
caused the development of the roots themselves into varying
phonetic forms; and these have then been applied, at first
to support, and afterwards to replace, the primitive means of
grammatical expression: an internal flection has come in
upon and supplanted the original aggregation. All Indo-European forms are originally of the kind here first illustrated,
mere agglutinations of independent elements, whereof a
part are reduced to a subordinate value and formal significance; but they tend, in a marked degree, to pass over into
the other kind, indicating formal relations by internal change
in the root or theme, instead of by external additions alone.
This tendency is generally regarded as constituting the
highest characteristic of the Indo-European dialects, as
making them properly inflective; and languages possessing
in this sense an inflective character are reckoned to stand at
the head of all the forms of human speech. Some, however,
are inclined to claim a more original and fundamental importance for the process of internal change in the history of
the tongues of our family, to regard a capacity of significant
variation of vowel as inherent in their roots, and bearing a
regular and conspicuous part in even the earliest steps
of their development.  The evidence upon which this claim
is founded I cannot but regard as altogether insufficient to
sustain it.  Wherever, in the most ancient as well as the
more modern processes of word-formation and inflection, we
find internal changes of the root, they are, I am persuaded,
of secondary growth, inorganic; they are called out ultimately by phonetic causes, not originated for the purpose of
marking variation of meaning, though sometimes seized and
applied to that purpose.  To prove the element of internal
flection one of prime value in the growth of Indo-European
language, it would be necessary to show that the variation
of vowel had a distinctly assignable office in the primitive
production of words; that it regularly distinguished from
one another certain parts of speech, certain classes of de.
rivatives, certain forms of declension or conjugation; that it
formed guiding analogies, which could be and actually were
imitated continuously in the further processes of wordmaking. But this is far from being the case; on the con.




294            INDO-EUROPEAN INFLECTION.          tI ECT,
trary, the phenomena bear everywhere an irregular and
sporadic character: the change of vowel in the oldest de.
rivatives is only an accompaniment of derivation by means
of suffixes; it has no constant significance; it acquires
significance only at second hand, in the manner of a result,
not a cause; and it remains everywhere as barren of formative force as in the Germanic verbs (where, as.was shown
in the third lecture, its infecundity led to the construction
of a new scheme of conjugation), or as in our irregular
plurals like men and feet, from man and foot. Only, therefore,
so far as it is regarded as an effect and sign of thorough integration of elements, of complete unity of designation, can
we accept internal change as an exponent of the superiority
of Indo-European speech.
But the peculiarities belonging to the character of our
family of languages will be more clearly apprehensible when
we shall have taken a survey of the other principal forms of
hu —an speech, to which, accordingly, after these necessary
introductory remarks, we now turn. We shall take up the
families in an order partly geographical, and partly based
upon a consideration of their respective importance.
On both these grounds, there can be no question as to
which group of languages, outside of the Indo-European
domain, ought first to receive our attention.  It is evidently
that one which includes as its principal branches the Hebrew,
the Syriac, and the Arabic.  From the names of its two extreme members, it is sometimes styled the Syro-Arabian family;
but its usual and familiar designation is Semitic or Shemitic,
derived from the name of the patriarch Shem, son of Noah,
who in Genesis is made the ancestor of most of the nations
that speak its dialects. It is a very distinctly marked group,
and, though occupying but a limited tract in the southwestern corner of Asia, with some of the adjacent parts
of Africa, is of the highest consequence, by reason of the
conspicuous part which the race to which it belongs has
played in the history of the world. This is too well known
to require to be referred to here otherwise than in the
briefest manner.
The Phenicians, inhabiting Tyre, Sidon, and the adjacent




vIII.3             SEMITIC LANGUAGE.                295
parts of the Mediterranean coast, and speaking a dialect so
nearly akin with the Hebrew that its scanty remains are
read with no great difficulty by the aid of that language,
l ave been wont to be accounted as the first to give the race
1 rominence in general history. The part which they played
was of the most honourable and useful character.  Their
commercial enterprise widely extended the limits of geographical knowledge, and bound together distant peoples by the
ties of mutual helpfulness; their colonies opened to civilization the countries bordering the Mediterranean, and prepared
the way for the extension of Greek and Roman culture.  A
significant indication of the far-reaching and beneficent
nature of their activity is to be seen in the fact that a large
portion of the world's alphabets, including many of those
which have the widest range, and have been used by the
most cultivated nations, come from the Phenician alphabet
as their ultimate source.  To great political importance the
Phenicians never attained, except in their most flourishing
colony, Carthage, which, as we well know, disputed for a time
with the Romans the empire of the world.
But it must not fail to be noticed that, even before the
rise of the Phenician world-commerce, there were great
Semitic empires in Mesopotamia, that country where the idea
of universal empire appears to have had its origin and its first
realization, and where some of the earliest germs of worlicivilization sprang up and were nursed.  The mixture of
nationalities and of cultures which contended in that arena
for the mastery during tens of centuries, until the IndoEuropean Persians subjected all beneath their sway, is most
intricate, and as yet only partially understood: the knowledge of its intricacy, and the hopeful means of its final solution, were given together, but a few years since, in the discovery and decipherment of the monuments of Nineveh and
Babylon, of the records known as "cuneiform," from the
shape of the characters in which they are written. These
records are abundant, and of various content, consisting
not in inscriptions alone, but in whole libraries of annals
and works of science and literature, stamped upon tablets
and cylinders of burnt clay; but their examination is as yet




296                SEMITIC HISTORY,              [LECT.
too incomplete, and the results drawn from it too fragment.
ary and uncertain, to allow of our taking any detailed notice
of them here; the questions which they affect are still
under judgment, and only the very few who have made profound and original studies among the monuments can venture
to speak respecting them with authority.  It is enough for
us to note that the Semitic race was prominent, and during
a long period preeminent, in Mesopotamia, and that a highly
important part of its history, and of the history of Semitic
language, is coming to light as the fruit of cuneiform studies.
During all this time there was enacting-behind a screen,
as it were —a part of Semitic history which was to prove of
incomparably greater importance to the world than Phenician commerce or Babylonian empire.  The little people of
the Hebrews was politically a most insignificant item in the
sum of human affairs; but its religion, made universal by
Christ, has become the Imightiest element in human history;
its wonderful ancient literature is the work which all enlightened nations of the present day unite in calling Bible,
that is,' the book;' its language is even now more studied
t0an any other outside the pale of Indo-European speech.
And yet once more, in comparatively modern times, long
after Mesopotamian empire, and Phenician commerce, and
Carthaginian lust of conquest, and Jewish temple-worship,
hac. passed away for ever, extinguished in the extinction of
those several nationalities, a new branch of the Semitic race,
which till then had slumbered in inaction and insignificance
in the deserts of Arabia, awoke all at once to the call of
a great religious teacher, Mohammed, burst its limits, overwhelmed Asia, Africa, and no small part of Europe, and
flowered out suddenly and brilliantly in science, art, and
philosophy, attaining a combined political and literary
eminence to which no Semitic people had made before any
approach, and threatening to wrench the leadership of
human destiny from the keeping of the enfeebled races of
Europe. Finally, corrupted within, and foiled and broken
without, it sank again into comparative obscurity; and with
it went down, probably for ever, the star of Semitic glory
and importance in the external history of the world; al,




wvII.]        LANGUAGE, AND LITERATURES.            297
though half mankind still own the sway of Semiti~ religious
ideas and institutions.
The Semitic dialects are divided into three principal
branches: the northern, comprehending the idioms of Syria
and. Assyria, and usually called the Aramaic; the central, or
Canaanitic, composed of the Hebrew and Phenician, with the
Punic; and the southern, or Arabic, including, besides the
proper or literary Arabic and the dialects most closely akin
with it, the Himyaritic in the south-western region of the
peninsula, and the outliers of the latter in Africa, the literary
Ethiopic or Geez, the Amharic, and other Abyssinian dialects.
Passing over the Mesopotamian records, as of an age and
character not yet fully established, the Hebrew literature is
by far the oldest which the family has to show, and, as is
known to every one, ranks among the oldest in the world.
From a time anterior, doubtless, to that of Moses, the works
of the Hebrew annalists, poets, and prophets cover the whole
period of Jewish history until some four centuries before
Christ, when the Hebrew had ceased to exist as a vernacular
language, and was replaced by the Chaldee or'Aramaic, the
dialect of Syria. But it has never ceased to be read,
written, and even to some extent spoken, by the learned,
from that time until now-especially since the revival of its
use, and the purification of its style, among the scattered
Jewish populations of Europe, following upon the expulsion
of the Jews from Spain in the twelfth century. Of the
degraded and mixed Hebrew used as the learned dialect of
the Rabbins, not far from  the beginning of our era, the
Mishna is the most important monument. The Samaritan
is another impure dialect of the Hebrew, so permeated with
Aramaic elements as to be a kind of medium  between
Hebrew and Aramaic.  Its oldest monument, a version of
the Pentateuch, is referred to the first century of our era.
It seems at present to be on the point of extinction.
Phenicia has left us no literature.  The coffin of one of
the kings of Sidon, found but a few years since, presents in
its detailed inscription a fuller view of the Phenician tongue
than is derivable from all its other known records, taktRn
together.  A few inscriptions, and a mutilated and  bscure




298              SEMITIC LITERATURES.             [tL
fragment in a play of the Roman poet Plautus, whereof the
scene is laid in Carthage, are the only relics left us of the
idiom of that queenly city.
The earliest records of Aramaic speech are the so-called
Chaldee passages found in some of the later books of the
Hebrew Bible (a single verse in Jeremiah, and longer
passages in Esdras and Daniel). Other products of the
literary use by the Jews of the same language are the
Targums, or paraphrases of Scripture, dating from about the
time of Christ, and the Talmuds, of the fourth and fifth
centuries. But in the second century, with the translation
of the whole Bible into the language of Syria (usually called
the Peshito version), begins an important Christian Syriac
literature, of which considerable portions are still preserved
to us. It flourished especially between the fourth and ninth
centuries. Besides the valuable historical information, touching the early ages of the Christian church, which it records,
it played an important part in transmitting to the Arabs the
literature, science, and philosophy of the Greeks. Its career
was brought to a close, and even the Syriac idiom itself nearly
crowded out of existence, by the rise and rapid extension
of the Arabic, in the centuries after Mohammed. But the
ancient Syriac is still the sacred dialect of the feeble bodies
of Christians in Asia which represent the Syriac church; and
its modern representati res, much corrupted in form and of
mixed material, are even now spoken by a few scattered communities.  With one of these communities, the Nestorians
of Orumiah and its vicinity-scanty remains of a sect which
once sent its missionaries into the remotest regions of Asia,
into India, Mlongolia, and China-the labours of American
missionaries have lately made our public well acquainted.
A modern Syriac literature is growing up once more under
their auspices.
Besides these two Aramaic literatures, the one Jewish and
the other Christian, it is believed that there has existed
another, of native origin and of character more truly
national; but it is now lost, doubtless beyond recovery.
Traditions of ancient Chaldean learning attach themselves to
the name Nabatean, and one or two curious books have been




VIII.]           SEMITIC LITERATURES. ~           299
recently brought to light out of the Arabic literature, claiming to be versions of Nabatean works of a very high antiquity: but they are generally regarded as literary impostures, containing only a scanty, if an appreciable, element of
what is genuine and ancient. In the practices and traditions
of the 31endaites and Sabians are also seen traces of an
indigenous Chaldean culture.
The oldest monuments belonging to the southern  or
Arabian branch of Semitic speech are the inscriptions discovered in the south-western corner of the great peninsula.
They represent a language very different from the classical
Arabic, as the character and civilization of the Sabeans and
Himyarites, from whom they come, appear to have been very
unlike those of the Arabs of the desert. Their exact period
is hitherto unknown. Language and civilization have alike
been almost wholly supplanted, since the rise of Islamism,
by the conquering Arabic, only obscure relics of them being
left in the Ehkili and other existing idioms of the south.
Most nearly akin with the Himyaritic is the speech of the
neighbouring region of Africa, which was unquestionably
peopled from southern Arabia, by emigration across the Red
Sea. The ancient tongue of Abyssinia, the Ethiopic or
GeBz, has a literature, wholly of Christian origin and con.
tent, coming down from the fourth century of our era: its
earliest monument is a version of the Bible. As a cultivated and current language, it has been gradually crowded
out of use during the past six centuries by the Amharic,
another dialect of the same stock, but of a more corrupt and
barbarous character.
Immensely superior in value to all the other Semitic
literatures, excepting the Hebrew, although latest in date of
them all, is that which is written in the Arabic tongue. Its
beginning is nearly contemporaneous with the rise of the
Arab people to historical importance: the Koran, collected
and written down, about the middle of the seventh century,
from the records and traditions of Mohammed's revelations,
is its starting-point. Only a few poems, of no great length,
belong to an age somewhat earlier; and the inscriptions of
Sinai and of Petra, which go back nearly to, or even somae




800                CHARACTERISTICS OF             [LECT
what beyond, the Christian era, give scanty representation of
dialects nearly kindred.  That which we call the Arabic was,
anterior to Mohammed, the spoken dialect of the tribes
occupying the central part of the country; that is to say, of
that part of the population which was of purest Semitic
blood, and less affected than any other, in language, manners,
and institutions, by disturbing foreign influences. As a
natural consequence of the political and religious revolution
by which Islamism became the religion, first of Arabia, then
of so large a portion of Asia and Africa, this dialect has
had a career almost comparable with that of the Latin. It
has extinguished nearly all the other dialects of the Semitic
family within their ancient limits; it has spread over Egypt
and the whole northern coast of Africa; the language of
Spain, and yet more the Hindustani of central India, have
borrowed abundantly of its material; the modern literary
Persian and Turkish have their vocabularies made up almost
more of Arabic words than of those of native growth. Of
the wonderfully rich and various Arabic literature, of the part
it played in the preservation and transmission of classical
learning to modern times, of the treasures of information it
contains respecting the history and geography of the Orient,
it is not necessary here to speak; the theme belongs to
literary, not to linguistic, history. We turn to a consideration of the chief peculiarities of Semitic language.
The Semitic type of speech is called inflective, like the
Indo-European, and philologists are accustomed to allow the
title to no other languages than these two. We must
beware, however, of supposing that this inclusion in one
morphological class implies any genetic relationship between
the families, or is to be regarded as even suggesting the prob.
ability of their common descent. There is between them,
on the contrary, only such a resemblance as is due to a
correspondence of natural endowments in the languagemaking races. Semitic inflection is so totally diverse from
Indo-European inflection, that the historical transition from
the one to the other, or from a common original to both, is
of a difficulty which cannot be exceeded.  The Semitic
tongues possess in many respects a more peculiar and isolated




VIII.]             SEMITIC LANGUAGE.                 301
character than any others which exist.  Their most funda.
mental characteristic is the triliterality of their roots, With
rare and insignificant exceptions, every Semitic verbal root
— the pronominal roots are not subject to the same law —
contains just three consonants, no more and no less. More.
over, it is composed of consonants alone. That is to say:
whereas, in the Indo-European and other tongues, the
radical vowel is as essential a part of the root as any other,
even though more liable than the consonants to phonetic
alteration, in the Semitic, on the other hand, the vocalization
of the radical consonants is almost solely a means of grammatical flexion.   Only the consonants of the root are
radical or significant elements; the vowels are formative or
relational. Thus, for example, the three consonants q-t-z
form a root (Arabic) which conveys the idea of'killing:'
then  qatala means'he killed;' qutila,'he was killed;'
qutilu,' they were killed;' uqtul,' kill;' qdtil,'killing;'
i qtdl,' causing to kill;' qatl,' murder;' qitl,'enemy;'
qutl,'murderous;' and so on.  Along with this internal
flection is found the use of external formative elements, both
suffixes and prefixes, and also, to a limited extent, infixes, or
inserted letters or syllables; yet they are but little relied on,
and play only a subordinate part, as compared with their
analogues in the languages of other races; the main portion
of the needed inflection is provided for by means of the
varying vocalization of the root, and what remains for
affixes to do is comparatively trifling.  The aggregation of
affix upon affix, the formation of derivative from derivative,
so usual with us (it was illustrated in a former lecture by
such examples as inapplicabilities and untruthfully), is a
thing almost unknown in the domain of Semitic speech.
This truly Procrustean uniformity of the Semitic roots, and
this capacity of significant internal change, separate the
languages to which they belong by a wide and almost
impassable gulf from all others spoken by the human race.
So far as we can discover, thevarying vocalization of the roots
in these languages is an ultimate fact, and directly and
organically indicative of a variation of meaning: it is not,
like the occasional phenomena of a somewhat similar char



302                CHARACTERISTICS OF             [LECT,
acter presented by the Indo-European languages, a distinct
tion originally euphonic, and afterwards made significant.
We can point out the influences which have made mlen the
plural of man, led the preterit of lead; we can trace back
set and sang to forms in which their distinction from sit and
sing was conveyed by formative elements added from without
to the root; but no historical researches bring the Semitic
scholar to, or even perceptibly toward, any such explanation
of the forms he is studying. Now and then a kind of
symbolism is pretty distinctly traceable: the weaker vowels
i and t sometimes convey by their use an intimation of less
active or transitive meaning, as compared with the strong
full a: thus, the act of' killing' is expressed by qatala, but
the conditions of'being sorry,' of' being beautiful,' by'hazina,'hasuna; and especially, every active verb, like qatala,
has its corresponding passive qutila. But such considerations can explain only a small portion of the derivatives from
Semitic roots; the genesis of the rest is an unsolved
problem, of extremest difficulty. The triplicity of radical
consonants is an equally primitive characteristic of all the
Semitic tongues, yet there are not wanting certain apparent
indications that it is the result of historical development.
To make out the required number of three, some roots contain the same consonant doubled; in others, one of the three
is a weak or servile letter, hardly more than a hiatus, or it is
a semivowel which seems to have been developed out of an
original vowel; further, there are groups of roots of somewhat kindred signification which agree in two of their consonants, so that the third is plausibly conjectured to be an
introduced letter, having the effect to differentiate a general
meaning once conveyed by the other two alone. Guided by
such signs, and urged on by the presumed necessity in theory
for regarding triliterality as not absolutely original, scholars
have repeatedly made the attempt to reduce these roots to
an earlier and simpler condition, out of which they should be
accounted a historic growth-but hitherto with only indif.
ferent success; we are yet far from attaining any satisfactory
understanding of the beginnings of Semitic speech. It is
suggested with much plausibility that the universality of the




VIII.]            SEMITIO LANGUAGE.                  803
three root-letters may be due to the inorganic and arbitrary
extension of an analogy which had by some means become a
dominant one; and that, in attaining their present form,
the roots have prevailingly passed through the condition of
derivative nouns. The Semitic verbal forms show many
signs of a more immediate and proximate development out
of forms of nouns than is to be traced in the structure of
the Indo-European verb. *
In no small part of its structure, the Semitic verb differs
very strikingly from the Indo-European. It distinguishes,
indeed, the same three numbers, singular, dual, and plural,
and the same persons, first, second, and third, and its per.
sonal endings are to a considerable extent formed in the
same manner, by adding pronominal elements to the verbal
root. But in the second and third persons it makes a
farther distinction of the gender of the subject: thus,
gatalat,'she killed,' is different from gatala,'he killed.'
What is of much more consequence is that its representation of the important element of time is quite diverse from
ours. The antithesis of past, present, and future, which
seems to us so fundamental and necessary, the Semitic mind
has ignored, setting up but two tenses, whose separate uses
are to no small extent interchangeable and difficult of
distinct definition, but whereof the one denotes chiefly completed action, the other incomplete; each of them admitting
of employment, in different circumstances, as past, present,
or future. The perfect or preterit is the more original, and
its persons are formed by appended pronominal endings; the
imperfect (sometimes called future) has the terminations of
number belonging to a noun, and indicates person and
gender by prefixes: thus, the three masculine persons in the
singular are aqtlzu, taqtul~u, and yaqtulu; the third, masculine and feminine, dual, are yagtuldni and tagtuldni; plural,
yagtlulna and yagtulna.  To the imperfect belongs a subjunctive and imperative, and one or two other less common
quasi-modal forms.  But of the wealth of modal expression
into which our own verb has always tended to develop, in a
* See A. Schleicher, in the Transactions of the Saxon Academy (Leipsi4
1865), vol. iv. (of the phil.-historical series), p. 614 sq.




804                CHARACTERISTICS OF              [LECT
synthetic or an analytic way, that of the Semites has
generated very little; its proneness is rather to the multi.
plication of such distinctions as are called conjugational,
to the characterizing of the verbal action as'in its nature
transitive, causal, intensive, iterative, conative, reflexive, or
the like: thus, qatala meaning'he killed,' gattala means'he killed with violence, massacred;' qdtala,'he tried to
kill;' aqtala,'he caused to kill;' inqatala,'he killed him.
self;' and so on. Each Arabic verb has theoretically fifteen
such conjugations; and near a dozen of them, each with its
own passive, are in tolerably frequent and familiar use; in
the other dialects, the scheme is less completely filled out.
Verbal nouns and adjectives, or infinitives and participles,
belowg likewise to every conjugation.
In their nouns, the Semites distinguish only two genders,
masculine and feminine. They have, of course, the same
three numbers here as in the verb. Distinctions of case,
however, are almost entirely deficient; only the Arabic
makes a scanty separation of nominative and accusative, or
of nominative, genitive, and accusative; and opinions still
differ as to whether this is to be regarded as a separate
acquisition made by the Arabic alone, or as an original
possession of the whole family, lost by the other branches.
the latter is probably the correcter view.
The simple copula, the verb to be, is generally wanting in
the Semitic languages: for "the man is good" they say,
" the man.good" (often with a form of the adjective which
indicates that it is used predicatively, rather than attribu.
tively), or " the man, he good." They are poor in connectives and particles; and this, with the deficiency of modal
forms in the verb, gives to their syntax a peculiar character
of simplicity and baldness: the Semite strings his assertions
together, just putting one after the other, with an and or a
but interposed, where the Indo-European twines his into a
harmoniously proportioned  and many-membered  period.
The same stiffness and rigidity which these languages show
in respect to word-development appears also in their develop.
ment of signification.  While it is characteristic of out
mode of speech that we use such words as conprehend, under.




Vill.]            SEMITIC LANGUAGE.                  305
stand, forgive, as if they originally and always meant just
what we employ them to express-not giving a thought to
the mnetaphor, often striking, or even startling, which they
contain-in the Semitic, the metaphor usually shows plainly
through, and cannot be lost sight of. The language of the
Semnite, then, is rather pictorial, forcible, vivid, than adapted
to calm and reasoning philosophy.
The various dialects of this family stand in a very close
relationship with one another, hardly presenting such differences even as are found within the limits of a single branch
of the Indo-European family: they are to one another like
German, Dutch, and Swedish, for example, rather than like
German, Welsh, and Persian.  This fact, however, does not
at all prove their separation to have taken place at a later
period than that of the Indo-European branches; for, during
its whole recorded history, Semitic speech has shown itself
far less variable, less liable to phonetic change and corruption, less fertile of new words and forms, of new themes and
apparent roots, than our own. And the reasons, at least in
part, are not difficult to discover. Each Semitic word, as a
general rule, presents distinctly to the consciousness of him
who employs it its three radical consonants, with its complement of vowels, each one of which has a recognized part to
play in determining the significance of the word, and cannot
be altered, or exchanged for another, without violating a
governing analogy, without defacing its intelligibility. The
genesis of new forms, moreover, is rendered well-nigh impossible by the fact that such a thing as a Semitic compound
is almost totally unknown: the habit of the language, from
its earliest period, has forbidden that combination of independent elements which is the first step toward their fusion
into a form. Hence everything in Semitic speech wears an
aspect of peculiar rigidity and persistence. In its primitive
development-as development we cannot but believe it to
have been, however little comprehensible by us-it assumed
so marked and individual a type that it has since been comparatively exempt from variation. In no other family of
human speech would it be possible that the most antique
and original of its dialects, the fullest in its forms, the most
20




306               RELATION OF SEMITIC             [LEOT.
uncorr,.,pted in its phonetic structure, the most faithful
representative of the ideal type inherent in them all, should
be the youngest of their number. But such is the character
of the classical Arabic, whose earliest literary monuments
are from fifteen to twenty centuries later than those of the
Hebrew and Assyrian. There is reason, however, it should
be remarked, to suspect that the Hebrew as we have it does
not in all points truly represent the language of the earliest
period of Hebrew history, that it has both partaken of the
modernization of the popular tongue, and suffered some distortion in the hands of the grammarians from whom we
receive it. The spoken vernaculars of the present day,
while they exhibit something of the same character as the
modern Indo-European dialects, in the abbreviation of words,
the loss of inflectional forms, and the obscuration of etymological relations, yet do so in a much less degree. The
modern Syriac of Orumiah has decidedly more of the aspect
of a European analytic language than any other existing
dialect of its family, and even more than, a few years ago,
Semitic scholars were willing to believe possible. But its
predecessor, the ancient Syriac, had been itself distinguished
by like peculiarities among the contemporaneous and older
dialects; having felt, perhaps, the modifying influence of
the strange peoples and cultures by which Syria was shut
in, invaded, and more than once subdued.
It may be hoped that wider and deeper study will succeed
one day in casting additional light upon the difficulties of
Semitic linguistic history. The dialect which is now in
process of construction out of the recently discovered cunei.
form monuments is claimed to possess some peculiar characteristics, yet it appears to be too decidedly accordant with
the rest in its general structure to play other than a subor.
dinate part, by farther illustrating that part of the course
of development with which we are already more or less
familiar. It is confidently claimed, however, by some lin.
guistic scholars (although as confidently denied by others),
that the ancient tongue of Egypt, and a considerable group
of the languages of northern Africa, have traces, still dis.
tinctly visible, of a far remoter connection with this family




VI]J.]       AND INDO-EUROPEAN LANGUAGE.             307
a connection anterior to the full elaboration of the funda.
mental peculiarities of Semitic language which we have been
considering. If this claim shall be established by maturer
investigation, there will be reason to look for important
revelations as the result of comparisons made between the
two classes.  The often-asserted relationship between the
beginnings of Irdo-European and of Semitic speech does
not at present ofier any appreciable promise of valuable light
to be thrown upon their joint and respective history. It
must be evident, I think, from the foregoing exposition, that
the whole fabric and style of these two families of language
is so discordant, that any theory which assumes their joint
development out of the radical stage, the common growth of
their grammatical systems, is wholly excluded.  If correspondence thes  be between them, it must lie in their roots,
and it must have existed before the special working-over of
the Semitic routs into their present form. It will be time,
then, to talk of the signs of Indo-European and Semitic
unity when the earliest process of Semitic growth is better
understood, its effects distinguished from the yet earlier
material upon which they were wrought. Against so deep
and pervading a discordance, the surface analogies hitherto
brought to light have no convincing weight. The identification is a very alluring theme: the near agreement of the
peoples speaking these two classes of languages in respect to
physical structure and mental capacity, their position as the
two great white races, joint leaders in the world's history,
taken in connection with their geographical neighbourhood
and an apparent agreement between the traditions held by
some nations of each touching their earliest homes and fates,
are inducements which have spurred on many a linguist to
search for verbal and radical coincidences in the tongues of
both, and to regard with a degree of credence such as he
appeared to find-while, nevertheless, if the same coincidences were found to exist, along with the same differences,
between our languages and those of some congeries of Polynesian or African tribes, they would at once be dismissed as
of no value or account. To claim, then, that the connmmon
descent of Indo-European and Semitic races has been proved
20 *




308         SEMITIC SPEECH AND CHARACTER.         [L ECT,
by the e vidence of their speech is totally unjustifiable; the
utmost which can be asserted is that language affords
certain indications, of doubtful value, which, taken along
with certain other ethnological considerations, also of questionable pertinency, furnish ground for suspecting an ulti.
mate relationship. The question, in short, is not yet ripe
for settlement.  Whether the better comprehension of the
history of Semitic speech which further research may give
will enable us to determine it with confidence, need not
here be considered: while such a result is certainly not to
be expected with confidence, it may perhaps be looked for
with hope.
To discuss the Semitic character, and to show how in its
striking features it accords with Semitic speech, would be a
most interesting task, but lies aside from the proper course
of our inquiries. Through the might of their religious ideas,
this people have governed, and mill continue to govern, the
civilized world; but in other respects, in that gradual work.
ing-out of ethnic endowment and capacity which constitutes
the history of a race, they have shown themselves decidedly
inferior to the other great ruling family, and their forms of
speech undeniably partake of this inferiority. The time is
long past when reverence for the Hebrew Scriptures as the
Book of books could carry with it the corollary that the
Hebrew tongue was the most perfect and the oldest of all
known languages, and even the mother of the rest: it is now
fully recognized as merely one in a contracted and very
peculiar group of sister dialects, crowded together in a corner
of Asia and the adjacent parts of Africa, possessing striking
excellences, but also marked with striking defects, and not
yet proved genetically connected with any other existing
group.
The family of languages to which we have next to direct
our attention is one of much wider geographical range, and
more varied linguistic character. As usually constructed, it
covers with its branches the whole northern portion of the
eastern continent, through both Europe and Asia, together
with the greater part of central Asia, and portions of Asiatic
and European territory lying still further south.  It is




vlII.]            SCYTHIAN LANGUAGE.                309
known by many different names: some call it the Altaic, or
the Ural-Altaic, family, from the chains of mountains wh.ch
are supposed to have served as centres of dispersion to
its tribes; others style it, from one or other of its principal
branches, the Mongolian, or the Tataric; the appellation
Turanian has also won great currency within no long time,
owing to its adoption by one or two very conspicuous authorities in linguistic ethnology, although recommended
neither by its derivation nor its original application (we
shall speak more particularly of both later); Scythian,
finally, is a title which it has sometimes received, taken from
the name by which the G0reeks knew the wild nomad races of
the extreme north-east, which were doubtless in part, at
least, of this kindred-and the designation Scythian we will
here employ, as, upon the whole, though far from being unexceptionable, best answering our purpose.
Five principal branches compose the family. The first of
them, the Ugrian, or Finno-Hungarian, is almost wholly European in its position and known history.  It includes the
language of the Laplanders, the race highest in latitude, but
lowest in stature and in developed capacity, of any in Europe; that of the Finns in north-western Russia, with related
dialects in Esthonia and Livonia; those of several tribes, of no
great numbers or consequence, stretching from the southern
Ural mountains toward the interior of Russia and down the
Volga-as the Permians, Siryanians, Wotiaks, Cheremisses,
and Mordwins; and the tongue of the Hungarians or Magyars, far in the south, with those of their kindred, the
Ostiaks and Woguls, in and beyond the central chain of the
Ural —which was the region whence the rude ancestors of
the brave and noble race who now people Hungary fought
their way down to the Danube, within the historical period,
or hardly a thousand years ago.
The second branch is the Samoyedic, nearest akin with the
Ugrian, yet apparently independent of it. It occupies the
territory along the northern coast ef Europe and Asia, from
the White Sea across the lower Yenisei, and almost to the
Lena, one of the most barren and inhospitable tracts of the
whole continent; while some of its dialects are spoken in the




310                  BRANCHES OF                [LO'W.
mountains to the south, about the head waters of the Yenisei —
probablyindicating the region whence the Samoyed tribes were
driven, or wandered, northward, following the river-courses,
and spreading out upon the shores of the northern ocean.
What is known of them and their speech is mainly the fruit
of the devoted labours of the intrepid traveller Castren. The
Samoyed dialects are destitute of literary cultivation and of
records, and the wild people who speak them are without interest or consequence, in the present or the past, save simply
as human beings. No other branch of the family has so
little to recommend it to our notice.
The third branch includes the languages spoken by the
Turkish tribes, a race which has played a part in modern
history not altogether insignificant.  Their earliest wander.
ings and conquests are doubtfully read in the annals of the
Chinese empire, and their long struggles with the Iranian
peoples in their border-lands are conspicuous themes of Persian heroic tradition. It was in the ninth and tenth centuries that they finally broke forth from their dreary abodes
on the great plateau of central Asia; falling upon the
eastern provinces of the already decaying Mohammedan
caliphate, they hastened its downfall and divided its inheritance; and their victorious arms were carried steadily westward, until, in the middle of the fifteenth century, they were
masters of Constantinople and of all that was left of the
Glreek empire; nor was their progress toward the heart of
Europe checked but by the most heroic and long-continued
efforts on the part of Magyars, Germans, and Slavonians.
Their modern history, and their present precarious position
upon the border of Europe, are too well known to call for
more than an allusion.  The subdivisions of the branch are
numerous, and they cover a territory of very wide extent,
reaching from the eastern edge of the Austrian dominions,
through Asia Minor, Tatary, and Chinese Tatary, to beyond
the centre of the Asiatic continent, while their outliers are
found even along the Lena, to its mouth, in northernmost
Siberia. They are classed together in three principal groups:
first, the northern, of which the Kirghiz, Bashkir, and Yakut
wea the most important members; they occupy (with the




VIII.]            SCYTHIAN LANGUAGE.                 31A
exception of t;he Yakut in the extreme north-east) southern
Siberia and Tatary, between the Volga and the Yenisei;
second, the south-eastern, including the Uigurs, Usbeks,
Turkomans, etc., and ranging from the southern Caspian,
eastward *to the middle of the great plateau; third, the
western, stretching through northern Persia, the Caucasus,
the Crimea, and Asia Minor, to the Bosphorus, and scattered:n patches amid the varied populations which fill the European
dorninions of the Sultan. This division, however, is rather
geographical than linguistic: the nearer mutual relations of
the different dialects are still, in great part, to be determined. They compose together a very distinct body of
nearly kindred forms of speech, not differing from one
another in anything like the same degree as the Ugrian languages. It is even claimed, although with questionable truth,
that a Yakut of the Lena and a man of the lower orders
at Constantinople could still make shift to communicate together.
The fourth branch of Scythian language is the Mongolian.
The Mongols, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, ran a
wonderful career of conquest, overwhelming nearly all the
monarchies of Asia, and reducing even the eastern countries
of Europe to subjection.  The Mongol emperor Kublai
Khan, reigning from the borders of Germany to the coasts
of south-eastern Asia, with his capital in China, the most
populous and at that time well-nigh the most enlightened
country of the earth, governed such a realm as the world
never saw, before or since.  But the unwieldy mass fell in
pieces almost as rapidly as it had been brought together.
The horribly devastating wars by which Mongol dominion
was established were neither attended nor followed by any
compensating benefits: they were a tempest of barbarian
fury, to be thought of only with a shudder, and with gratitude for its brevity.  The Mongols themselves were but the
leaders in the movement, which was in great part executed
by hordes of Turkish descent. A Mongol dynasty held pos.
session of the Chinese throne for a century, until expelled,
about A.D. 1365, by a successful revolt of the native race.
At present, the still powerful remains of this once so re.




312            SCYTHIAN LANGUAGES AND           [LEOT.
doubtable people are living in quiet and insignificance, as
dependents of the Chinese empire.  Their. territory is
bounded in the south by the Tibetan frontier, and extends
thence eastward to the border of China, northward to lake
Dzaisang, north-eastward to beyond lake Baikal, and to the
edge of Manchuria, including the upper waters of the Lena
and the Amoor.  Their scattered fragments, too, are left in
almost every country westward to the Volga, and a considerable colony of them are to be found upon both sides of the
Volga, to some distance above its mouth. The Khalkas,
Kalmucks, and Buriats are the most notable of their tribes.
The fifth and last branch is called the Tungusic. It occupies a broad tract of north-eastern Asia, from the frontier
of China on the north to the Arctic Ocean, and from the
neighbourhood of the Yenisei almost to Kamchatka.  Its
most conspicuous dialect, the MIanchu, belongs to tribes
which have established a claim upon the attention of the
world by their conquest of China a little more than two centuries ago (A.D. 1644).  In wielding the forces of that
mighty empire, they long displayed a consummate ability;
but their administration, attacked at once by foreign encroachment and domestic revolt, has now for some time been
marked with fatal weakness: Scythian power seems at pregtent not less decadent in the extreme East than in the
West, This is not the first time that Tungusian races have
built up their power upon a Chinese foundation. The
powerful dynasties of Khitan and Kin, from the beginning
of the tenth century to near the middle of the thirteenth,
held a great part of northern China in subjection, though
not to the entire subversion of the empire: like the modern
NIanchus, they adopted and perpetuated the Chinese institu.
tions and culture.  The realm of the Kin was one of the
many which went down before the Mongolian onset. The
Mllanchus call by the name Orochon,'reindeer-possessors,'
all Tungusian tribes excepting their own: respecting their
mutual relations little is known in detail: they are dependences partly of the Chinese empire, partly of the Russian.
The brief survey of the history of the Scythian races with
which we have thus accompanied our statement of their di,




Y[II.]'YI-THIAN LITERATURES.           313
visions is sufficient to set forth clearly the subordinate part
they have played in human affairs. War and devastation
have been the sphere in which their activity has chiefly
manifested itself. Some of them have shown for a time no
mean capacity in governing and managing their conquests
But they have had no aptitude for helping the advance of
civilization, and but little, in general, even for appropriating
the knowledge and culture of their subjects or their neighbours. The Manchus have written their language during
some centuries past; but they have nothing which deserves
the name of a national literature; their books are translations or servile imitations of Chinese works. The Mongol
literature goes back to the thirteenth century, the period
when the race rose to importance in history, but is almost
equally scanty. The Mongol alphabet was the original of
the present Manchnu, and, in its turn, was derived from that
of the UJigur Turks; the latter, again, goes back to the
Syriac, having been brought into central Asia by Nestorian
missionaries. The Uigurs, the easternmost members of the
family of Turkish tribes, seem to have been the first among
them to acquire and use the art of writing: their alphabet
is said to be mentioned in Chinese annals of the fifth cen.
tury, and their reputation for learning won them consideration and high employment even down to the era of the
Mongolian outbreak; but they, their civilization, and their
literature have since passed so nearly out of existence that
it has even been possible to raise the question whether they
were, in fact, of Turkish kindred and speech. Very scanty
fragments of what are supposed to have been their literary
productions, of uncertain age, are still preserved to us. The
general conversion of the Turkish tribes to Mohammedanism led to the crowding out of their ancient alphabet by the
Arabic.  From the south-eastern division of the  same
branch, generally called the Jagataic, or Oriental Turkish,
we have a literature of some value, dating from the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, but not continued later: its most
important work is the autobiography of the emperor Baber,
that extraordinary man who early in the sixteenth century
conquered India, founding there the Mogul dynasty, the final




314              SCYTHIAN LITERATURES.            [LEOC.
extinction of which we have ourselves witnessed within the
past few years. The westernmost Turkish race, the con.
querors of Constantinople, usually known by the distinctive
name of Osmanlis, or Ottomans (both words are corruptions
of the name of their leader, Othman), have a very rich and
abundant literature, covering the whole period from the rise
of the race to power in the fourteenth century down to our
own time. It is, however, of only secondary interest, as
being founded on Persian and Arabic models, and containing
little that is distinctively national in style and spirit. The
learned dialect, too, in which it is written, is crowded full of
Persian and Arabic words, often to the nearly total exclusion
of native Turkish material. In the Finno-Hungarian branch
of the family, finally, there is the same paucity of literary
records. In Hungary, after its conversion to Roman Christianity (about A.D. 1000), Latin was for a long time the
almost exclusive medium of learned communication and composition. The Reformation, in the sixteenth century, favoured
the uprising of a national literature, in the vernacular
tongue; but Austrian policy checked and thwarted its development; and a renewed start, taken about the beginning
of the present century, was baffled when the remains of
Hungarian liberty were trampled out in 1849. Finnish
written literature is still more recent, but boasts at least one
work of a high order of interest, of a wholly native and
original stamp: the Kalevala, composed of half-mythical,
half-legendary songs, which have been handed down by tra.
dition, apparently for many centuries, from generation to
generation of the Finnish people. No other Ugrian race
possesses a literature.
It is claimed of late, however, by those who are engaged
in constructing linguistic, ethnological, and political history
out of the just disentombed records of Assyrian culture and
art, that sufficient evidence is found to compel the belief
that neither Indo-Europeans nor Semites, but some third
race, were the first occupants and owners of the soil, and laid
the foundation of the culture which was adopted and devel.
oped there by the other races, as they later, one after
another, succeeded t0 the supremacy; and some maintain




vIII.]         UNITY OF SCYTHIAN FAMILY.             315
further that the language of this race shows it to have been
Scythian, a member of the westernmost, or Finno-Hungarian,
branch of the family.  By others the Scythian character of
the dialect is explicitly denied. The discussion is at present
in the hands of too few persons, and those too little versed
in Scythian philology, to admit of a definite and satisfactory
conclusion; and meanwhile we are justified in regarding
with extreme incredulity any theory which puts Scythian
races in the position of originators of an independent civilization, and teachers of Semites and Indo-Europeans. Such
a position is wholly inconsistent with what is known of their
history elsewhere, and would constitute a real anomaly in
ethnology; while we are not authorized utterly to deny its
possibility, we certainly have the right to demand full and
unequivocal evidence before we yield it our belief.  The
fact-if fact it be-is of a revolutionary character, and must
fight its way to acknowledgment.
The linguistic tie, now, which binds together the widely
scattered branches of this great family, is a somewhat loose
and feeble one, consisting less in the traceable correspondence of material and forms, the possession of the same roots
and the same inflections, than in a correspondence of the
style of structure, of the modes of apprehension and expression of grammatical relations. Each great branch forms by
itself a group as distinct as is, for instance, the Germanic or
the Slavonic in our own family; but there is no such palpable and unmistakable evidence of kinship between Ugrian,
Turkish, Mongol, and IManchu, as between German, Russian,
Greek, and Sanskrit.  It is, to no small extent, those who
know least in detail respecting the languages of the family
who are most ready to assert and defend their historical
connection: and, on the other hand, Castren, himself a
Finn, and whose long and devoted labours have taught us
more respecting them than has been brought to light by
any other man, ventures* to assert with confidence only the
demonstrable linguistic relationship of Ugrian, Samoyed,
and Turkish, and regards the inclusion of Mongol and Man.
4 Ethnological Lectures respecting the Altaic Races (St Peterstwn.
1857), p. 94.




316            AGGLUTINATIVE CHARACTER           [LEa1
chu within the same circle as still questionable. But even
between the three former, the material evidence is but weak
and scanty, as compared with that presented in the Indo.
European idioms, of which specimens were given above, in
the fifth lecture; no investigator has ever been able to
draw up tables of pervading correspondences in the Scythian tongues, which should at once illustrate and prove
their genetic unity.  It is possible, of course, that the races
who speak these tongues may have been separated longer
than the Indo-European, enough longer for a more sweeping
effacement of the evidence of their common descent; or,
again, that the lack of those remains of dialects of great
antiquity which so aid our researches into the history of our
own family of speech is what prevents our recognition of the
links that bind the Scythian languages into one. It may be,
too, that these have possessed as much more variable and
mobile a character than the Indo-European forms of speech
as the latter than the Semitic: this, indeed, has been repeat.
edly assumed to be true, and even defended by theoretical
and a' priori arguments; but I am not aware that it has ever
been established by proper linguistic evidence and reasoning,
and it is strongly opposed by the coherence of the several
brancbes, and the near accordance of the dialects composing
them.  And, were either or both of these possible explanations of the discordances of the Scythian tongues proved
true, they would by no means settle the question in favour
of the unity of the family; they would simply forbid us to
maintain too dogmatically that the tongues were not and could
not be related as members of one family; before consenting
positively to regard them as thus related, we should still be
entitled to demand tangible evidences; if not correspondences of material, then at least definite and distinctive correspondences of form. And, as already intimated, a morphological resemblance is the ground on which the claim
of Scythian unity is chiefly founded; their fundamental
common characteristic is that they follow what is styled an
aygglutinative type of structure. That is to say, the elements
out of which their words are formed are loosely put together,
instead of being closely compacted, or fused into - ne; they




VIII.]          OF SCYTHIAN LANGUAGES.              381
are aggregated, rather than integrated; the root or theme is
held apart from the affixes, and these from one another, with
a distinct apprehension of their separate individuality. As
Professor Miiller well expresses it, while Indo-European
language, in putting two roots together to compose a form,
sinks the individuality of both, the Scythian sinks that of
but one, the suffix. The process is not, in its first stages,
diverse in the two families, since every Indo-European form
began with being a mere collocation, and, in a large proportion of cases, the root maintains to the end its integrity of
form and meaning: the difference is one of degree rather
than of kind; of the extension and effect, rather than the
essential nature, of a mode of formation: and yet, it is a
palpable and an important difference, when we compare the
general structure of two languages, one out of each family.
The simple possession in common of an agglutinative character, as thus defined, would certainly be a very insufficient
indication of the common parentage of the Scythian tongues;
mere absence of inflection would be a characteristic far too
general and indeterminate to prove anything respecting
them. They do, however, present some striking points of
agreement in the style and manner of their agglutination,
such as might supplement and powerfully aid the convincing
force of a body of material correspondences which should be
found wanting in desired fullness.  The most important of
these structural accordances are as follows.
In the Scythian languages, derivation by prefixes is un.
known; the radical syllable always stands at the head of the
word, followed by the formative elements. The root, too, to
whatever extent it may receive the accretion of suffixes,
itself remains pure and unchanged, neither fused with them,
nor euphonically affected by them: throughout the whole
body of its derivatives, it has one unvarying and easily recognized form.  It would appear, however, on theoretical
grounds, that this fundamental characteristic, of the inviolability of the Scythian roots, must be admitted with some
grains of allowance: since, if root be kept absolutely sepa.
rate from ending, and changeless, we should, on the one
band, look for a much closer coincidence of roots than we




818                CHARACTERISTICS OF               [LECT
actually find between the different dialects; and, on the other
hand, the grand means of development of new'words and
roots would be cut off, and linguistic-growth almost stifled.
While, then, in general the root receives no modification.
from the endings, the latter, on the contrary, are modified
by the root, in a way which constitutes the most striking
phonetic peculiarity of the family. The vowels, namely, are
divided into two classes, heavy (a, o, u, etc.), and light (e, i,
ii, etc.), or guttural and palatal; and, in the suffixes, only
vowels of the samle class with that of the root, or with that
of the last syllable of the root, if there be more than one,
are allowed to occur. Hence, every suffix has two forms,
one with light vowel and one with heavy, either of which is
used, as circumstances may require. Thus, in Turkish, from
baba,'father,' comes baba-lar-um-dan,'from  our fathers,'
with heavy vowels; but from dedeh,'grandfather,' with light
vowels, comes dede-ler-in-den,'from their grandfathers';
al,'to take,' makes almak, alma, alajakc, while sev,'to love,'
makes sevmnec, sevme, sevejek: or, in Hungarian, yuh -asz-nak
means' to the shepherd,' but kert-esz-nek,' to the gardener.'
This is usually called the "law of harmonic sequence of
vowels: " it takes somewhat different forms in the different
branches, and exhibits niceties and intricacies of harmonic
equipoise into which it is unnecessary here to enter: it is
most elaborately developed and most strictly obeyed in the
Turkish dialects.
One or two important general characteristics of the languages of the family are the natural and direct results of
this agglutinative method, which attributes to each suffix a
distinct form and office, and in which a true feeling for the
unity of words does not forbid an excessive accumulation of
separate formative elements in the same vocable.  In the
first place, varieties and irregularities of conjugation and declension are almost unknown in Scythian grammar: all
verbs, all nouns, are inflected upon the same unvarying
model; every grammatical relation has its own sign, by
which it is under all circumstances denoted.  In the second
place, a host of more or less complicated forms are derivable
by inlqectional processes from  one root or theme   Az




1iii.]            SCYTHIAN LANGUAGE.                 319
instance iv the word baba-lar-um-dan, given above, which
contains the possessive urn, signifying'our,' besides the
plural ending lar and the ablative case-affix dan. The
Turkish verbs exemplify the same peculiarity in a much
more striking manner: thus, by appending to the root one
or more than one of half-a-dozen modifying elements, expressing passivity, reflexiveness, reciprocity, causation, negation, and impossibility, we may form an almost indefinite
number of themes of conjugation, each possessing the complete scheme of temporal and modal forms: examples are,
from the root sev,'love,' sev-ish-dir-mek,' to cause to love
one another,' sev-ish-dir-il-eme-mek,'not to be capable of
being made to love one another,' and so on.
Of the more ordinary inflectional apparatus, analogous
with that of the tongues of our own family, some of the
Scythian languages possess an abundant store: the Finnish
has a regular scheme of fifteen cases for its nouns; the
Hungarian, one of more than twenty. Their plurals are
formed by a separate pluralizing suffix (in Turkish, ler or
lar, as seen above), to which then the same case-endings are
added as to the simple theme in the singular.  No distinction of grammatical gender is marked. Verbal forms are
produced, as with us, by personal endings, of pronominal
origin.  These are of two kinds, personal and possessive,
and are appended respectively to conjugational themes having
a participial and an infinitival significance, to names of the
actor and of the action.  Thus, from  Turkish dog-mak,'to strike,' through the present participle dogur,' striking,'
comes the present dogur-um,' striking-I,' i.e.,'I strike;'
the preterit is doqd-um,' act-of-striking-mine,' i.e.,'I have
struck;' the third person is the simple theme, without suffix,
as dogur,' he strikes,' dogdi,'he has struck;' and the addition to these of the common plural suffix of declension
makes the third persons plural, dogur-lar,'they strike,'
dogdi-ler,' they have struck'-literally,' strikers,'' strikings.'
Sueh verbal forms are, then, essentially nouns, taken in a
predicative sense; the radical idea has been made a noun of,
in order to be employed as a verb; and so much of the
nominal form and character still cleaves to them, that it ruust




320               SCYTHIAN LANGUAGES.            [LEOn
be conceded that the Scythian tongues have not clearly
apprehended and fully worked out the distinction of these
two fundamental parts of speech. Their conjugation, however, such as it is, is rich in temporal and modal distinctions.
The root appears in its naked form as second person singular
imperative.
Connectives and relational words are nearly unknown in
the languages of this family. Where we should employ a
clause, they set a case-form of a noun: for example, "while
we were going" is rendered in Turkish by git-diy-inziz-de,'in our act of going (wenting).' By means of gerundives
and possessives, the different members of a period are twined
together into a single intricate or lumbering statement,
having the principal verb regularly at the end, and the deter.
mining word followed by the determined, often producing an
inverted construction which seems very strange to our apprehension.
It must not fail to be observed that the different branches
of this family are not a little discordant as regards the degree
of their agglutinative development.  The Ugrian dialects,
especially the Hungarian and Finnish, are the highest in
rank, being almost entitled to be reckoned as inflective.
The eastern branches, the Mongolian and Tungusian, are in
every way poorer and scantier, and the Manchu even verges
upon monosyllabic stiffness, not having, for example, so much
as a distinction of number and person in its predicative or
verbally employed words. The Turkish, in rank as in
geographical position, holds a middle place.
Whether the morphological correspondences thus set
forth, along with others less conspicuous, which have been
found to exist between lUgrian, Samoyed, Turkish, Mongol,
and Tungusic languages, are of themselves sufficient to prove
these languages genetically allied, branches of one original
stock, may be regarded as still an open question.  A wider
induction, a more thorough grasp and comprehension of the
resemblances and differences of all human speech, is probably needed ore linguistic science shall be justified in
pronouncing a confident decision of a question so recondite
Whether, again, coincidences in the actual material of the




vIII.j        THEIR CONNECTION DOUBTFUL.            321
same tongues have been brought out in sufficient number, oF
of a sufficiently unequivocal character, to constitute, along
with these correspondences of form, such an argument in
favour of the unity of the family as may be deemed satisfactory and accepted, is also a matter for doubt. It is safest
to regard the classification at present as a provisional one,
and to leave to future researches its establishment or its
overthrow. The separate investigation and mutual comparison of many of the dialects is as yet only very imperfectly made, or even hardly commenced: farther and more
penetrating study may strengthen and render indissoluble the
tie that is already claimed to bind togsiher the eastern and
western branches; but it may also shev tieir connection to
be merely imaginary.




LECTURE IX.
Uncertainties of genetic classification of languages.  "Turanian"
family.  Dravidian group.  North-eastern Asiatic.  Monosyllabio
tongues: Chinese, Farther Indian, Tibetan, etc. Malay-Polynesian
and Melanesian families. Egyptian language and its asserted kin.
dred: Hamitic family. Languages of southern and central Africa.
Languages of America; problem of derivation of American races.
Isolated tongues: Basque, Caucasian, etc.
by the last lecture, we began a survey of the general
dividing lines of human speech, an enumeration and description of the families into which linguistic science has combined the languages thus far brought under her notice. We
had time, however, to examine but two of these families,
comprehending the tongues of the two great white races
which have taken or are taking, after our own, the most
conspicuous parts in the history of mankind: they were, on
the one hand, the Semitic, a little group of closely related
dialects in the south-western corner of Asia, counting as its
principal members the Hebrew, Arabic, and Syriac; and, on -
the other hand, the Scythian, an immense aggregation of
greatly varying forms of speech, occupying with its five
principal branches-the Ugrian, Samoyedic, Turkish, Mongolian, and Tungusic-a very large, but, in part, a not very
valuable, portion of the combined continent of Asia and
Europe.  We have now to complete our work by passing in
cursory review the remaining families. The task may be
found, as I cannot help fearing, a somewhat tedious oneconsisting, as it must do, to no small extent, in going over a




IX.]           CLASSIFICATION UNCERTAIN.            323
catalogue of unknown or unfamiliar names, belonging to
races and tongues that stand far off from our interests; but,
if its result shall be to give us a comprehensive view of the
grand outlines, geographical and structural, of human speech,
our hour will not have been spent unprofitably.
It must be borne in mind from the outset that the best
classification of human languages now attainable is neither
exhaustive, nor equally certain and reliable in all its parts.
While nearly the whole field has been explored, it has not
been explored everywhere with equal minuteness and care,
nor by equally trustworthy investigators. In language, as in
geography, there are few extensive regions which need any
longer be marked "unknown;" yet there are many of
which only the most general features have been determined:
and that, perhaps, in part by inference, in part upon inform.
ation which may turn out incorrect. It may be said in
general that, where travellers' reports, or mere vocabularies,
have alone been accessible as the ground of classification, the
results reached are of superficial character and provisional
value.  No family of languages can have either its internal
or its external relations well established, until its material
has been submitted to analysis, the genesis and mode of construction of its forms traced out, and its laws of phonetic
change deduced from an examination and comparison of all
the accessible phenomena-until, in short, its vital processes
are comprehended, in their past history and their present
workings. To accomplish this for all existing and recorded
human speech will be a slow and laborious task; and, for a
long time to come, we must expect that the limits of families
will be more or less altered, that languages now separated will
come to be classed together, and even that some of those now
connected will be sundered. It is not alone true that pene.
trating study often brings to light resemblances between two
languages which escape a superficial examination; it also
sometimes shows the illusiveness of others which at first sight
appeared to be valid evidences of relationship. In a preliminary comparison, chance coincidences are liable to be
overvalued. Moreover, the first tentative groupings are
wont to be made by the more sanguine and enterprising class
21 *




824                  THE SO-CALLED                [LECT,
of philologists.  The "personal equation," as the astronomers call.it, the allowance for difference of temperament,
endowment, and skill, has to be applied, certainly not less
rigorously, in estimating the observations and deductions of
linguistic scholars than those of the labourers in other
sciences.  There is, on the one hand, the class of facile and
anticipative investigators, whose minds are most impressed
by apparent resemblances; who delight in construction, in
establishing connections, in grouping together extensive
classes, in forming grand and striking hypotheses; who are
never willing to say " I do not know:" and, on the other
hand, there is the class of less ardent and more phlegmatic
students, who look beneath superficial resemblances to profounder differences; who call always for more proof; who
are ever ready to confess ignorance, and to hold their judgment in suspense; who refuse their assent to engaging
theories, allowing it to be wrung from them only by cogent
and convincing evidence. Each class has its advantages:
the one furnishes the better explorers, the other the sounder
critics; the one is the more numerous and the more popular,
the other is the safer and the more strictly scientific.
A notable exemplification of this temperamental difference
of authorities is furnished us in connection with one of the
families of which we have already treated. We saw reason,
in the last lecture, to regard with some doubt the genetic
relationship claimed to exist between the five great branches
of the Scythian family, as being founded too little on actual
correspondence of linguistic materials demonstrably derived
from a common source, and too much on mere analogies of
linguistic structure-analogies, too, which were able to consist with such important differences as separate the jejune
dialect of the Manchus from the rich and almost inflective
languages of the Finns and Hungarians.  We could not
pronounce it certain that the family will be able to maintain
its integrity in the light of a more thorough and comprehen.
sive investigation. But, on the other hand, we were unable
to deny that it may succeed in doing so; and farther, it
i'altogether possible that recognizable evidences of ultimate




II.]             ~" TURANIAN" FAMILY.                325
connection with the family may be found among other Asi.
atic tongues. as yet unclassed. Now some linguistic scholars,
of no little note and authority, have ventured to give to
these possibilities the value of established and unquestionable facts. They have set up an enormous family, which they
have styled the " Turanian;" they have allotted to it the
agglutinative structure as its distinctive characteristic, and
have made it include nearly all known tongues save the Indo.
European and Semitic, not in Asia alone, but through the
oceanic islands and over the continent of America.  Such
sweeping and wholesale conglomeration (for we can hardly
call it classification), at the present stage of progress of linguistic research, is wholly unscientific, and of no authority
or value. It represents only a want of detailed knowledge,
and a readiness to give way to loose and unscrupulous theorizing, on the part of its authors, who are, at the very best,
anticipators of the result of scientific inquiry — who are
even already proved in part its contradictors: for it is long
since shown that many of the alleged " Turanian" dialects
are hardly less fundamentally different in their structure
from the typical languages of the family than is the Greek
or the Hebrew. That the inventors of the name Turanian
have associated it with such a baseless classification is sufficient reason why it should be strictly rejected from  the
terminology of linguistic science.  Nor has it in virtue of
its derivation any peculiar claim to our acceptance. It is
borrowed from the legendary history of the Persian or
Iranian race, as represented to us chiefly by the ShahNameh, or'Book of Kings,' of Firdusi. There Irej and
Tur are two of the three brothers from whom spring the
races of mankind; and the tribes of Iran and Turan, their
descendants-namely, the native Persians and their neighbours upon the north-east, probably of Turkish kindredare represented as engaged in incessant warfare upon the
frontier of their respective territory. Why we should adopt
a term so local in its original application, out of a cycle of
legends with which so few of us are familiar, as the name of
a race which is claimed to extend from the north-western




326              DRAVIDIAN LANGUAGES.            [LEof,
border of Europe eastward across continent and ocean, widen.
ing as it goes, till it spreads along the whole western Atlan.
tic shore, cannot easily be made to appear.
There are especially two groups of Asiatic languages,
which have been confidently claimed, and with some show of
reason, to belong to the Scythian family. Of these, the first
is that occupying the southern portion of the peninsula of
India, and commonly called the Tamulian or Dravidian
group or family. We have already seen (in the fifth and
sixth lectures) that the Sanskrit speaking tribes, of IndoEutoDpean race, forced their way into India through the
passes on its north-western frontier, almost within the historic period; and that they there took exclusive possession
only of the northern portion of the country, including especially the vast plains and valleys of Hindustan proper, with
a tract of the sea-coast stretching southward on either hand;
dispossessing so far, by reduction to servitude or by expul.
sion, the more aboriginal inhabitants, but leaving to their
former owners the hilly and elevated southern region, the
Dekhan, as well as the yet less accessible heights and slopes
of the Himalaya chain in the north. Throughout nearly the
whole Dekhan, these older races still form the predominant
population, and speak and write their own languages. Chief
among the latter are the Tamil, occupying the south-eastern
extremity of the peninsula, along with most of the island of
Ceylon; the Telinga or Telugu, spoken over a yet more
extensive region lying north of this; the Canarese, extend.
ing from the interior border of the Tamil and Telugu westward almost to the coast; the MalayAlam or Malabar, covering a narrow strip of the south-western coast, from Cape
Comorin northwards; and the Tulu, filling a still more
restricted area to the north of the Malayalam. All these
are cultivated tongues, and possess written literatures, of
greater or less extent and antiquity; that of the Tamil is
the most important and the oldest, parts of it appearing to
date back as far as to the eighth or ninth century of our
era; nothing in Telugu is earlier than the twelfth. The
Dravidian races, however, have derived their religion, their
polity, and their culture, from the superior race to the north




X.]               DRAVIDIAN LANGUAGES.                327
of them, the Hindus; their alphabets are of Hindu descent;
their philosophical and scientific terms are borrowed from
the rich stores of the Sanskrit; their literary works are i
no small part translations or imitations of Sanskrit authors.
There are other tribes in the peninsula, of less numbers and
importance, wholly uncultivated, and in part of savage manners and mode of life. Some of these-as the Tudas of the
Nilagiri hills, the Kotas of the same neighbourhood, and
the wild Gonds and Khonds of the hilly country of Gondwana-are proved by their language to be akin with the
Dravidian peoples; * others-as the Kols, Suras, and Santals
— appear to be of entirely diverse race and speech; relics,
perhaps, of a yet more ancient Indian population, which
occupied the soil before the incursion of the Dravidians, and
was driven out by these, as they, in their turn, by the IndoEuropeans.   Once more, outside the borders of India
proper, in the neighbouring country of Beluchistan (the
ancient Gedrosia), there is found a people, the Brahuis,
whose tongue, though filled with words of Hindu origin, is
claimed to exhibit unequivocal traces of a Dravidian basis.
The Dravidian languages are not only, like the Scythian,
of a generally agglutinate character, but their style of agglutinative structure is sufficiently accordant with that Qf
the Scythian tongues to permit of their being ranked in
the same family, provided that material evidence of the
relationship, of a sufficiently distinct and unequivocal char.
acter, shall also be discovered. That such has been already
found out and set forth, is not to be believed. The investigation has not yet been undertaken by any scholar profoundly versed in the languages of both families, nor has
the comparative grammar of the Scythian dialects reached
results which can be applied in conducting it and in arriving
at a determinate decision. That an outlying branch of the
Scythian race once stretched down through western and
southern Iran into the Indian peninsula is at present only an.
attractive and plausible theory, which may yet be established
* This is the opinion of Caldwell, from whose excellent Comparative
Grammar of the Dravidian Languages (London, 1856) are mainly derived
the materials for this account of the family.




828               LANGUAGES OF JAPAN              [LECT,
by comparison of languages,when this comparison shall have
been made with sufficient knowledge and sufficient caution.
The other group referred to, as having been sometimes
claimed to exhibit traces of relationship with the Scythian
family, is composed of the languages which occupy the
peninsulas and islands of the extreme north-eastern part of
the Asiatic continent. Their character and relations constitute a very obscure and difficult problem in linguistic
ethnology: whether they make up a group in any other than
a geographical sense, whether they are not isolated and inde.
pendent tongues, is at present exceedingly doubtful. Their
linguistic tie, if there be one, is yet to be established.
By far the most conspicuous and important member of the
group is the Japanese. It is wholly confined to the islands
forming the empire of Japan (and into the northernmost of
these, Yesso, it is a recent intrusion; the chief population
of the island is Kurilian), and has no representatives or near
kindred upon the main-land. So lively attention has been
directed to it of late, since the re-opening of the empire to
Europeans-its grammars, dictionaries, conversation-books,
and the like, are multiplying so rapidly in European languages, and are leading to so much discussion of its linguistic
character, that we may hope to see its position ere long
definitely established. It has recently been repeatedly and
confidently asserted to be " of the Turanian family; " but
this is a phrase of so wholly dubious meaning that we cannot
tell what it is worth: we shall be obliged to hold our judgments suspended until the general relations of the northeastern Asiatic languages are better settled.  The language
is polysyllabic and agglutinative in character, possessing
some of the features of construction which also characterize
the Scythian tongues. It is of a simple phonetic structure
(its syllables being almost always composed of a single consonant with following vowel), and fluent and easy of uttersnce. Besides the ordinary spoken dialect, there is another,
older and more primitive, used as the medium of certain
styles of composition: it is called the Yamato. 3Much, too,
of the learned literature of the Japanese is written in
Chinese. Their culture and letters come from China, being




x ]            AND NORTH-EASTERN ASIA.              329
introduced, it is believed, in the-Third century of our era.
the annals of the empire, however, claim to go back to a
much higher antiquity, even to a time some centuries before
Christ. It was unfortunate for an inflected tongue like the
Japanese to be obliged to resort to China for an alphabet;
and although a thoroughly practical and convenient set of
characters, of syllabic value, easy to write and to read, was
at one time devised, being made out of parts of Chinese
ideographs, it is of very restricted use; and the mode of
writing generally employed for literary texts is one of the
most detestable in the world, and the greatest existing obstacle to the acquirement of the language.
The dialect of the Loo-Choo islands is nearly akin with the
Japanese.
The peninsula of Corea, lying in close proximity to
the empire of Japan, is occupied by a language between
which and the Japanese, though they are not so dissimilar in
structure that they might not be members of one family, no
material evidences of relationship have been traced and
pointed out. The Corean also possesses some literary cultivation, derived from China; but of both language and literature only the scantiest knowledge has reached the West.
Along the coast of Asia north of Corea, and also upon the
island of Saghalien or Karafto, and through the Kurile chain
of islands, which stretch from Yesso northward to the extremity of the peninsula of Kamchatka, dwells another race,
that of the Ainos or Kurilians. They are hairy savages,
who live by hunting and fishing, but are distinguished by
nobility of bearing and gentleness of manners. Their speech
has been sometimes pronounced radically akin with the
Japanese, but, apparently, without any sufficient reason. A
few of their popular songs have been written down by
strangers.
The peninsula of Kamchatka itself belongs to yet another
wild race, the Kamchadales; and to the north of these lie the
nearly related peoples of the Koriaks and Chukchi, between
whom and the American races a connection has been susE
pected, but not satisfactorily proved.  The Namollos, who
occupy the very extremity of the continent, next to Beh.




830             MONOSYLLABIC LANGUAGES            [LBY_
ring's straits, are pretty certainly related with the Eskimox
of the northern shores of the opposite continent, and thus
appear to be emigrants out of America into Asia.
Between the races we have mentioned and the Yakuts of
the Lena, that far outlying branch of the Turkish family,
finally, live the Yukagiris, another isolated and widely spread
people, not proved by their language to be akin with any of
their neighbours.
It was the more necessary to glance at the intricate and
ill understood linguistic relations of this part of the Asiatic
continent, because our eyes naturally turn curiously in that
direction, when we inquire whence and how our own American continent obtained the aboriginal population which we
have been dispossessing. It is evident that much remains
to be done upon the Asiatic side of the straits before the
linguistic scholar can be ready for a comparison which shall
show with what race of the Old World, if with any, the
races of the New are allied in speech.
The south-eastern portion of Asia is occupied by peoples
whose tongues form together a single class or family. They
fill China and Farther India, and some of the neighbouring
parts of the central Asiatic plateau. The distinctive common
characteristic of these tongues is that they are monosyllabic.
Of all human dialects, they represent most nearly what, as
wte have already seen reason for concluding, was the primitive
stage of the agglutinative and inflective forms of speech;
they have never begun that fusion of elements once independ.
ently significant into compound forms which has been the
principal item in the history of development of all other
tongues. The Chinese words, for example, are still to no
small extent roots, representing ideas in crude and undefined
form, and equally convertible by use into noun, verb, or
adverb.  Thus, ta contains the radical idea of'being great,'
and may, as a substantive, mean' greatness;' as an adjective,' great;' as a verb, either' to be great,' or'to make great,
to magnify;' as an adverb,'greatly:' the value which it is
to have as actually employed, in any given case, is deter,
mined partly by its position in the phrase, and partly by the
requirements of the sense, as gathered from the complex of




IX.]            OF SOUTH-EASTERN ASIA.              331
ideas which the sentence presents. We have already had
occasion to remark (in the seventh lecture) thst, somewhat
the same thing may be said of many English words; we
took love as an instance of one which is now either verb or
noun, having lost by phonetic abbreviation the formative
elements which once distinguished it as the one and as the
other. It is a very customary thing with us, too, to take
a word which is properly one part of speech, and con.
vert it into various others without changing its shape:
for example, better is primarily an adjective, as in " a better
man than I;" but we employ it in connections which
make of it an adverb, as in "he loves party better than
country;" or a noun, as when we speak of yielding to our
betters, or getting the better of a bad habit; or, finally, a
verb, as in " they better their condition." Such analogies,
however, do not explain the form and the variety of applica.
tion of the words composing the Chinese and its kindred
languages. Of the former possession of formative elements
these words show no signs, either phonetic or significant;
they have never been made distinct parts of speech in the
sense in which ours have been and are so. How different
is the state of monosyllabism which precedes inflection from
that which follows it in consequence of the wearing off of
inflective elements, may be in some measure seen by comparing a Chinese sentence with its English equivalent. The
Chinese runs, as nearly as we can represent it, thus: " King
speak: Sage! not far thousand mile and come; also will
have use gain me realm, hey? " which means,'the king
spoke: 0 sage! since thou dost not count a thousand miles
far to come (that is, hast taken the pains to come hither
from a great distance), wilt thou not, too, have brought some
thing for the weal of my realm?' *
While all the languages of the region we have described
thus agree in type, in morphological character, they show a
great and astonishing diversity of material; only scanty correspondences of form and meaning are found in their vocabu.
laries; and hence, the nature and degree of their mutual
* This example is taken from Schleicher's Languages of Europe ix
Systematic Review (Bonn, 1850), p. 51.




882             CHINESE LANGUAGE AND             [LICT.
relationship are still obscure. But the structural accordance
is here, evidently, a pretty sure sign of common descent.
If monosyllabic tongues were of frequent occurrence among
human races, if, for instance, we met with one group of them
in China, another in Africa, and another in America, we
should have no right to infer that they were all genetically
related; for it is, beyond all question, hypothetically possible
that different divisions of mankind should be characterized
by a kindred inaptitude for linguistic development. When,
however, we find the known languages of this type clustered
together in one corner of a single continent, we cannot well
resist the conviction that they are all dialects of one original
tongue, and that their differences, however great these may
be, are the result of discordant historic growth.
Infinitely the most important member of the monosyllabic
group or family is the Chinese: its history is exceeded in
interest by that of very few other known tongues.  Its
earliest literary records (some of the odes of the Shi-King,'Book of Songs') claim to go back to nearly two thousand
years before Christ, and the annals and traditions of the
race reach some centuries farther, so that Chinese antiquity
almost exceeds in hoariness both Semitic and Indo-European.
China, indeed, in the primitiveness and persistency of its
language, its arts, and its polity, is one of the most remarkable and exceptional phenomena which the story of our race
presents. It has maintained substantially the same speech
and the same institutions, by uninterrupted transmission
from generation to generation upon the same soil, all the
way down to our own times from a period in the past at
which every Indo-European people of which we know aught
was but a roving tribe of barbarians. Elsewhere, change has
been the dominating principle; in China, permanency. Nor
has this permanency been quietism and stagnation. China has
had, down even to modern times, no insignificant share of
activity and progress, though always within certain limits,
and never of a radical and revolutionary character. She has
been one of the very few great centres of culture and en.
lightenment which the world has known; and her culture
has been not less original in its beginnings, and almost more




1X.]            CHRINESE  LITERATURE.             333
independent of foreign aid in its development, than any other.
She has been the mother of arts, sciences, and letters, to the
races on every side of her; and the world at large she has
affected not a little, mainly through the material products of
her ingenuity and industry. Repeatedly subjected to foreign
domination, she has always vanquished her conquerors, compelling them implicitly to adopt her civilization, and respect
and maintain her institutions.  That she now at last seems
to have become in a measure superannuated and effete, and to
be nearing her downfall, under the combined pressure of
overcrowded population, a detested foreign yoke and internal
rebellion against it, and the disorganizing interference of
Western powers, may be true; but it does not become us to
regard otherwise than with compassion the final decay of
a culture which, taking into account the length of its duration and the number of individuals affected by it, has perhaps
spread as much light and made as much happiness as any
other that ever existed.
The representative man of China is Confucius, who lived
in the sixth century before Christ.  He is no religious
teacher, but an ethical and political philosopher.  In him
the wisdom of, the olden time, the national apprehension of
the meaning and duties of life, found its highest expression,
which has been accepted as authoritative by all succeeding
ages. He determined how much of the ancient literature
should be saved from oblivion: his excerpts from it, historical and poetical, together with his own writings, and the
works of his pupils, in which are handed down his own in.
structions in public and private virtue, form nearly the whole
of the Five King and the Four Books, the national classics,
the earliest and most revered portion of the national literal
ture.  Their continuation and elaboration have engaged no
insignificant part of the literary activity of following generations. But, aside from this, almost every department of
mental productiveness is represented in China by hosts of
works, ancient and modern: in history, in biography, in geography and ethnology, in jurisprudence, in the grammar and
lexicography especially of their own tongue, in natural history and science, in art and industry, in the various branches




34                CHARAaTER OF THE                [LECM.
of belles-lettres, as poetry, romance, the drama, the Chinese
have produced in abundance what, tried even by our own
standard, is worthy of high respect and admiration.  No
race, certainly, outside the Indo-European  and  Semitic
families, nor many races even of those families, can show a
literature of equal value with the Chinese.
Not very much requires to be said in explanation of the
structure and history of a language so simple-a language
which might be said to have no grammatical structure, which
possesses neither inflections nor parts of speech, and which
has changed less in four thousand years than most others in
four hundred, or than many another in a single century.
So restricted, in the first place, is its phonetical system, that
its whole vocabulary, in the general cultivated dialect (which
has lost the power of uttering final mutes, still preserved and
distinctly sounded in some of the popular patois), is com.
posed of only about four hundredand fifty different vocables,
combinations of sounds: these, however, are converted into
not far from three times that number of distinct words by
means of the tones of utterance, which in Chinese, as in
some other languages of similarly scanty resources, are
pressed into the service of the vocabulary, instead of being
left, as with us, to the department of rhetoric and elocution.
As a necessary consequence, the several words have a much
greater range of signification than in more richly endowed
tongues; each seems to unite in itself the offices of many
distinct words, the tie of connection between its significations being no longer traceable.  External development, the
formation of derivative words to bear the variety of derived
meanings into which every root tends to branch out, is here
almost or quite unknown: internal, significant development
has been obliged to do the whole work of linguistic growth.
Of course, then, not only the grammatical form, but also the
radical significance, is often left to be pointed out by the connection. And here, again, the Chinese finds its nearest
parallel, among inflected tongues, in the numerous homonyms
(words identical in sound but different in meaning) of our
own English: for example, in our three different meet'a
(meet, mete, and meat), and bear's (bear, verb, bear, noun,




IX.]               CHINESE LANGUAGE.                  335
and bare, adjective), and found's (found from find, found,' establish,' and found,'cast'), and other the like.  In the
written language, much of this ambiguity is avoided, since
each Chinese character represents a word with regard, not to
its phonetic form alone, but to its meaning also *-  whence
comes the strange anomaly that a language composed of but
a thousand or two of words is written with an alphabet containing tens of thousands of different signs. The literary style
is thus enabled to unite with sufficient intelligibility a wonderful degree of conciseness, to combine brevity and precision
to a degree elsewhere unapproached. The spoken language is
much more wordy, using, to secure the mutual understanding
of speaker and hearer, various devices, which here and there
approach very near to agglutination, although they always
stop short of it.  To no small extent, the Chinese is in practical use a language of groups of monosyllabic roots rather
than of isolated monosyllables: a host of conceptions which
we signify by single words, it denotes by a collocation of
several words: thus,' virtue' is represented by four cardinal
virtues, faith-piety-temperance-justice;'parent' by fathermother; exceedingly often, two nearly synonymous words are
put together to express their common meaning, like way-path,
for'way' (such a collocation being mainly a device for suggesting to the mind the one signification in which two words, each
of various meaning, agree with one another); very often, again,
a " classifier," or word denoting the class in which a vocable is used, is appended to it, as when we say maple-tree,
whale-fish, for maple and whale (many of these classifiers are
of very peculiar sense and application); certain words,
fiurther, are virtual signs of parts of speech, as those meaning' get,'' come,'' go,' added to verbs;'place,' making nouns
from verbs and adjectives; a relative particle, pointing out
the attributive relation; objective particles, indicating
an instrumental, locative, dative case; pluralizing words,
meaning originally'number, crowd, heap;' a diminutive
sign, the word for'child;' and so on.  There has been
here not a little of that attenuation and integration of
* See the twelfth lecture, where this peculiarity of the Chinese mode of
writing will be more fully explained.




836              LANGUAGES OF CHINA               [LECT.
meaning by which in our own language we have formed
so many- relational words and phrases; but there is no
fusion, no close combination, even, of elements; these are
simply placed side by side, without losing their separate individuality.  There is no reason assignable why a truly agglutinative stage might not possibly grow out of a condition
of things like this; and it is claimed by some that, in certain
of the popular dialects (which differ notably from the kwankwa, the common dialect of the lettered classes), agglutination, to a limited extent, is actually reached.
While thus the Chinese is, in certain respects of fundamental importance, the most rudimentary and scanty of all
known languages, the one least fitted to become a satisfactory
means of expression of human thought, it is not without its
compensations.  The power which the human mind has over
its instruments, and independent of their imperfections, is
strikingly illustrated by the history of this form of speech,
which has successfully answered all the purposes of a cultivated, reflecting, studious, and ingenious people throughout a
career of unequalled duration; which has been put to far
higher and more varied uses than most of the multitude of
highly organized dialects spoken among men-dialects rich
in flexibility, adaptiveness, and power of expansion, but poor
in the mental poverty and weakness of those who should
wield them.  In the domain of language, as in some departments of art and industry, no race has been comparable with
the Chinese for capacity to accomplish wonderful things with
rude and uncouth instruments.
The principal nations of Farther India are the Annamese
or Cochin-Chinese, the Siamese, and the Burmese; tribes of
inferior numbers, civilization, and importance are the Kwanto,
Cambodians, Peguans, Karens, and others.  Annamese culture is of Chinese origin; the races of Siam and Burmah
emerge from obscurity as they receive knowledge, letters,
and religion (Buddhism) together from India. Their lan.
guages are, like the Chinese, monosyllabic and isolating; but
they are as much inferior to that tongue in distinctness of
construction. and precision of expression as the people theat
speak them have shown themselves to be inferior to the




is.]              AND FARTHER INDIA.                337
inhabitants of China in mental activity and reach. Of indicative words, substitutes for the formative elements of more
highly developed languages, they make an extended use.
Such auxiliary and limiting words are in Siamese always put
before, in Burmese always after, the principal root.
To the same general class of tongues, yet with sundry
variations of type, even sometimes appearing to overstep the
boundary which divides mere collocation from actual agglutination of elements, are deemed to belong the exceedingly
numerous and not less discordant dialects which crowd the
mountain valleys on both sides of the great range of the
Himalayas, and that part of the plateau of central Asia which
lies next north of the range. The linguistic student is lost,
as yet, in the infinity of details presented by these dialects,
and is unable to classify them satisfactorily.  Most of them
are known only by partial vocabularies, lists of words
gathered by enterprising collectors,* no penetrating investigation and clear exposition of their structure and laws of
growth having yet been made. It were useless to detail
here the names of the wild tribes to which they belong, or
set forth the groupings which have been provisionally established among them. The only one which possesses any his.
torical or literary importance is the Tibetan.  Tibet was one
of the early conquests of Buddhism, and has long been a
chief centre of that religion. It has an immense Buddhist
literature, in great part translated from the Sanskrit, and
written in a character derived from that in which the Sanskrit is written. Though strictly a monosyllabic language,
the Tibetan exhibits some very peculiar and problematical
features-in its written but now unpronounced prefixes, and
a kind of inflective internal change appearing in many of its
words-which are a subject of much controversy among
comparative philologists.
With the next great family, the Malay-Polynesian, or
Oceanic, we shall not need to delay long.  Those who speak
its dialects fill nearly all the islands from the coasts of Asia
southward and eastward, from Madagascar to the Sandwich
* Among these, Rev. N. Brown and Mr. B. H. Hodgson have especially
distinguished themselres.
23




338                 POLYNESIAN AND                 LANT.,
group and Easter Island, from New Zealand to Formosa.
A few of those which are found nearest to Farther India
possess alphabets and scanty literatures, coming chiefly from
the introduction among them of religion and culture from
India; but the Malay has adopted the Arabic alphabet.
Considering how widely they are scattered, there prevails
among these languages a notable degree of correspondence
of material as well as of structure, and their coherence as a
family is unquestionable; but the work of marking out
subordinate groups, and determining degrees of relationship,
is as yet but partially accomplished for them. Missionaries,
American and English, have played and are playing an important part in laying them open to knowledge, as well as
in introducing knowledge among those who speak them.
The Polynesian languages, especially those of the eastern
division, are of simpler phonetic form than any others spoken
by human races: their alphabets contain not more than ten
consonants, often as few as seven, and their allowed combinations of sounds are restricted to open syllables, composed
of a vowel alone, or of a vowel preceded by a single consonant; of combined consonants, or final consonants, they
know nothing. They are polysyllabic, but hardly less destitute of forms than the monosyllabic tongues. Their roots,
if we may call them so, or the most primitive elements which
our imperfect historical analysis enables us to trace, are more
often dissyllabic, but of indeterminate value as parts of
speech: they may be employed, without change, as verb,
substantive, adjective, or even preposition. All inflection is
wanting: gender, case, number, tense, mode, person, have no
formal distinctions; pronouns, indicative particles, prepositions, and the like, constitute the whole grammar, making
parts of spet.~h and pointing out their relations. Moreover,
anything which can properly be styled a verb is possessed by
none of these languages; their so-called verbs are really only
nouns taken predicatively. Thus, to express' he has a white
jacket on,' the Dayak says literally "he with-jacket with-white,"
or "he jackety whitey." *  As a means of development of
signification, the repetition or reduplication of a root is very
* Steinthal, Charakteristik etc., page 165.




IX.]            MELANESIAN LANGUAGES.                3389
frequently resorted to; prefixes and suffixes, especially the
former, are also applied to the same purpose. Only the per.
sonal pronouns have a peculiar kind of variation by number,
produced by composition and fusion with the numerals: in
this way are often distinguished not only a singular, dual, and
plural, but also a tri-al, denoting three: and the numbers
other than singular of the first person have a double form,
according as the we is meant to include or to exclude the person addressed.
The races to whom belong the dialects we have thus
characterized are of a brown colour.  But these do not
make up the whole population of the Pacific island-world.
The groups of little islands lying to the east of New Guinea
-the New Hebrides, the Solomon's islands, New Caledonia,
and others-are inhabited by a black race, having frizzled or
woolly hair, yet showing no other signs of relationship with
the natives of Africa.  Men of like physical characteristics
are found to occupy the greater part of New Guinea, and
more or less of the other islands lying westward, as far as the
Andaman group, in the Bay of Bengal. They are known by
various names, as Negritos, Papuans, Melanesians. Some of
their languages have been recently brought by missionary
effort to the knowledge of linguistic scholars, and help to
prove the race distinct from the Polynesian. In point of
material, a wide diversity exists among the dialects of the
different tribes; they exhibit almost the extreme of linguistic
discordance; each little island has its own idiom, unintelligible to all its neighbours, and sometimes the separate districts of the same islet are unable to communicate together.,Yet, so far as they have been examined, distinct traces of a
common origin have been found; and in general plan of
structure they agree not only among themselves, but also, in
a marked degree, with the Polynesian tongues, so that they
are perhaps to be regarded as ultimately coinciding with the
latter in origin.*
The aboriginal inhabitants of Australia and of parts of the
neighbouring islands are by some set down as a distinct;
* See Von der Gabelentz, Die Melanesischen Spracl en, etc., in vol viii,
(1861) of the Memoirs of the Saxon Society of Sciences.
22 *




840               EGYPTIAN LANGUAGES.             [LET,
race, the Alforas: our knowledge of their speech is not
sufficient for us to determine with confidence their linguistic
position.
The rank in the scale of languages generally' assigned
to the ancient Egyptian (with its successor, the modern
Coptic), its often alleged connection with the Semitic, and the
antiquity and importance of the culture to which it served as
instrument, would have justified us in treating it next after
the Indo-European and Semitic; but it seemed more convenient to traverse the whole joint continent of Europe and
Asia, before crossing into Africa.  The chronology of
Egyptian history is still a subject of not a little controversy;
but it cannot be reasonably doubted that the very earliest
written monuments of human thought are found in the valley
of the Nile, as well as the most ancient and most gigantic
works of human art. There was wisdom in Egypt, accumulated and handed down through a long succession of generations, for Moses, the founder of the Hebrew state, to become
learned in; and Herodotus, the " father of history," as we
are accustomed to style him, found Egypt, when he visited
it, already entered upon its period of dotage and decay. It
was a strange country: one narrow line of brilliant green
(but spreading fan-like at its northern extremity), traced by
the periodical overflow of a single' branchless and sourceless
river through the great desert which sweeps from the Atlantic
coast to the very border of India; so populous and so fertile
as to furnish a surplusage of labour, for the execution of
architectural works of a solidity and grandeur elsewhere
unkv iwn, and which the absolute dryness of the climate has
perm tted to come down to us in unequalled preservation.
On t,ese monuments, within and without, the record-loving
Egyptians depicted and described the events of their national
and personal history, the course and occupations of their
daily lives, their offerings, prayers. and praises, the scenes of
their Dublic worship and of the au ninistration of their state,
their expeditions and conquests. Their language has thus
stood for ages plainly written bef6re the eyes of the world,
inviting readers; but the key to the characters in which it
was inscribed, the sacred hieroglyphics, had been lost aCnlost




IM.]                HAMITIC FAMILY.                 341
since the beginning of the Christian era; until, in our own
century, it has been recovered by the zeal and industry of a
few devoted men, among whose names that of Champollion
stands foremost.   The reconstruction  of the  ancient
Egyptian tongue, though by no means complete, is sufficiently
advanced to allow us to see quite clearly its general character. It was but an older form of the modern Coptic.
The Coptic has itself gone out of existence within the past
three or four centuries, extinguished by the Arabic; but we
possess a tolerably abundant Christian Coptic literature,
representing two or three slightly different dialects, written
in an alphabetic character chiefly adapted from the Greek,
and dating back to the early centuries of our era. The
differences are comparatively slight between the old Egyptian
of the hieroglyphical monuments and the later Coptic, for the
exceedingly simple structure of the language has saved it from
the active operation of linguistic change. A transitional
step, too, between the one and the other is set before us in
the series of records, mostly in papyrus rolls, which are called
hieratic and demotic, from the characters in which they are
written, modified forms of the hieroglyphs, adapted to a more
popular use: these records come from the last five or six
centuries preceding our era, and represent, doubtless, the
popular speech of the period.
A number of other African dialects are claimed to exhibit
affinities of material and structure with the language of
Egypt.  They fall* into three groups: the Ethiopian or
Abyssinian, of which the Galla is at present the most im.
portant member; the Libyan or Berber, extending over a
wide region of northern Africa, from Egypt to the Atlantic
ocean; and the Hottentot, embracing the dialects of the
degraded tribes of Hottentots and Bushmen at the far
southern extremity of the continent: these last have been but
recently recognized as showing signs of probable relationship
with the rest. The family, as thus made up, is styled the
Hamitic (by a name correlative to Semitic and Japhetic):
its constitution and relations, however, are still matters of
* I follow here the classification of Lepsius, given in the second editioi t
his Standard Alphabet (London and Berlin, 1863), at p. 303.




842                GYPTIAN AND OTHER              [LIt.
no little difference of opinion among linguistic scholars, and
can be fully established only by continued research.
The Egyptian was a language of the utmost simplicity, or
even poverty, of grammatical structure. Its roots-which,
in their condition as made known to us, are prevailingly,
though not uniformly, monosyllabic-are also its words;
neither noun nor verb, nor any other part of speech, has a
characteristic form, or can be traced back to a simpler radical element, from which it comes by the addition of a formative element. Some roots, as in Chinese, are either verb,
substantive, or adjective-thus, ankh,'live, life, alive,' sekhi,'write, a writing, writer' —others are only verbs or only
nouns. A word used as substantive is generally marked by
a prefixed article, which is often closely combined with it,
but yet is not a part of it; it has no declension, the objective
uses being indicated by prepositions. The personal inflection of the verb is made by means of suffixed pronominal
endings, also loosely attached, and capable of being omitted
in the third person when a noun is expressed as subject of'the verb. Mode and tense are, to a certain limited extent,
signified by prefixed auxiliary words.  But these pronominal
endings, which, when added to the verb, indicate the subject
(sometimes also the object), have likewise a possessive value,
when appended to nouns: thus, ran-i is either' I name' or'my name;' it is literally, doubtless,'naming-mine,' applied
in a substantive or a verbal sense according to the requirements of the particular case: that is to say, there is no
essential distinction formally made between a noun and a
verb. In the singular number of both articles and pronominal
suffixes, as also in the pronouns, there is made a separation
of gender, as masculine or feminine.  This is a highly
important feature in the structure of Hamitic speech, and
the one which gives it its best claim to the title of form-language. So far as it goes, it puts the tongues of the family
into one grand class along with the Indo-European and the
Semitic: these three families alone have made a subjective
classification of all objects of knowledge and of thought Pi
masculine and feminine, and givenit expression in their speech.
But, by its general character, the Egyptian is far enougb




Ix.]              AFRICAN LANGUAGES.                 848
from being entitled to rank with the Indo-European and
Semitic languages, being, rather, but a single step above tho
Chinese: in many of its constructions it is quite as bald as
the latter, and sometimes even less clear and free from
ambiguity.
The Egyptian pronouns present some striking analogies
with the Semitic, and from this fact has been drawn by many
linguistic scholars the confident conclusion that the two
families are ultimately related, the Egyptian being a relic of
the Semitic as the latter was before its development into the
peculiar form which it now wears, and which was described
in the last lecture. Considering, however, the exceeding
structural difference between them, and the high improbability that any genuine correspondences of so special a character should have survived that thorough working-over
which could alone have made Semitic speech out of anything
like Egyptian, the conclusion must be pronounced, at the
least, a venturesome one. Semitic affinities have been not
less confidently, and with perhaps more show of reason,
claimed for the Libyan and Abyssinian branches of the socalled Hamitic family. Only continued investigation, and
more definite establishment of the criteria of genetic relationship, can determine what part of these alleged correspondences are real, and of force to show community of descent,
and what part are fancied, or accidental, or the result of
borrowing out of one language into another.
To enter in any detail into the labyrinths of African language and ethnography is not essential to our present
purpose, and will not be here undertaken. As a consequence
of the extraordinary activity of missionary enterprise and of
geographical exploration and discovery in Africa within a few
years past, much curiosity and study has been directed
towards African dialects; a great mass of material has been
collected, and its examination has been carried far enough to
give us at least a general idea of the distribution of races in
that quarter of the world. A vast deal, however, still remains
to be done, before the almost innumerable and rapidly chang.
ing dialects of all these wild tribes shall be brought to our
knowledge, combined into classes and groups, and under.




844                 LAGUAGES OF THE                  ELEOM.
stood in their resemblances and differences of material and
structure.
Apart from the dialects already mentioned, as belonging
to the Hamitic or the Semitic family, the best established
and most widely extended group of African languages is that
one which fills nearly the whole southern part of the conti.
nent, from a few degrees north of the equator to the Cape of
Good Hope.  It is variously called the Bantu, the Chuana,
or the Zingian family; or, by a simple geographical title, the
South-African.  The material as well as structural coincidences between its numerous members are fully sufficient to
prove its unity. Its subdivisions, and the separate dialects
composing them, need not here be rehearsed.* None of
these dialects has any other culture than that which it has
received under missionary auspices in the most recent period.
They are all of an agglutinative character, forming words of
many syllables, and, in a certain way, they are rich enough
in forms, and in the capacity of indicating different shades of
meaning and relation. Their most marked peculiarity is
their extensive use of pronominal prefixes to the nouns;
these are numerous-in some languages, as many as sixteen
-and distinguish the number and generic class of the nouns
to which they are attached. Thus, in Zulu, we have um-fana,'boy,' aba-fana,'boys;' in-kovro,' cow,' izin-komo,' cows;'
ili-zwi,'word,' ama-zwi,' words,' and so on.t   But farther,
these same prefixes, or characteristic parts of them, enter into
the formation of the adjectives, the possessive and relative
pronouns, and the personal pronouns employed as subject or
object of the verbs, agreeing with or referring to the nouns
to which they respectively belong: for example, aba-fana
b-ami aba-kulu, ba tanda,'my large boys, they love;' but
izin-.komo z-amni izin-ckulu, zi tanda,'my large cows, they
love.' Thus is produced a kind of alliterative congruence,
like the rhyming one often seen in Latin, as vir-o optim-o
maxim-o, femin-c  optim-c mnaxim-e.  Of inflection by cases
* See Lepsius's General Table of Languages, already referred to; and Dr..Bleek's Catalogue of Sir George Grey's Library, at Capetown, 1858.
t Our examples are taken from Rev. L. Grout's " Z-llu Land " (Phila,
delphia, 1864), chap. xiv.




IX.]             SOUTH-AFRICAN FAMILY,               345
the Sotuth-.frican noun has hardly any; the' case-relations
are.indicated by prefixed prepositions. Nor is there a per.
sonal inflection of the verbs, except by means of prefixed
pronouns. Mode and tense are signified chiefly by auxiliary
words, also standing before the main root; but in part by
derivative forms of the root, made by suffixes: thus, tandile,'loved,' from tanda,' love;' and like suffixes form derivative
conjugations of the root, in number and in variety compar
able with those which, as was shown in the last lecture, come
from the Turkish verb: examples are bonisa,' show,' bonela,'see for,' bonana,'see each other,' bonisana,' show  each
other,' bonwa,'be seen,' etc., etc., from bona,' see.'  Except
in the interjectional forms, the vocative and second person
imperative, every verb and noun in these languages appears
in connected speech clothed with a pronominal prefix; so
that a prefix seems as essential a part of one of their words
as does a suffix of an Indo-European word, in the older
dialects of the family.
A very peculiar feature of the phonetic structure of some
of the best-known South-African languages, especially of the
Kafir branch (including the Zulu), is the use, as consonants,
of the sounds called clicks, made by separating the tongue
sharply from the roof of the mouth, with accompanying suc.
tion-sounds which we employ only in talking to horses ol
in amusing babies. As many as four of these clicks form in
some dialects a regular part of the consonantal system, each
being subject to variation by utterance simultaneously with
other sounds, guttural or nasal. It is not a little remarkable that the clicks also abound in the tongues of that isolated branch of the Hamitic family, the Hottentot and
Bushman, which is shut in among the South-African dialects:
indeed, they are conjectured to be of Hottentot origin, and
caught by the other tribes by imitation, since they are found
only in those members of the  different South-African
branches which are neighbours of the Hottentots.
Upon the western coast of the continent, the languages of
the family of which we are treating extend as far as into the
territory of Sierra Leo le; but they are much intermingled
at the north with other tongues of a different kindred. A




346               AFRICAN LANGUAGES.              rLEXt,
broad band across the continent at its widest part, from Cape
Verde on the north nearly to the equator on the south, and
eastward to the upper waters of the Nile, is filled with dia.
lects not reckoned as South-African, although possessing a
structure in many respects accordant with that which we
have just described. Conspicuous among them are the
Fulah or Fellatah, the Mandingo, and the tongues of- Bornu
and Darfur. How far they admit of being grouped together
as a single family, and what may be the value of their general
structural correspondence with the other great African
family, must be left for future researches to determine.
One of them, the Vei, has an alphabet of its own, of native
invention.
Throughout nearly the whole of northern and central
Africa, Arabic influence has for some time past been rapidly
spreading, carrying with it a certain degree of civilization,
the Mohammedan religion, the Koran, and some knowledge
and use of the Arabic language. It is only in this quarter
of the world that Semitic faith and speech still continue
aggressive.
There remains for consideration, of the recognized great
families of human language, only that one which occupies the
continent of North and South America. Of this, also, we
must renounce all attempt at detailed treatment; it is a theme
too vast and complicated to be dealt with otherwise than
very summarily within our necessary limits. The conditions
of the linguistic problem presented by the American languages are exceedingly perplexing, for the same reason as
those presented by the Polynesian and African dialects, and
in a yet higher degree.  The number, variety, and changeableness of the different tongues is wonderful. Dialectic
division id carried to its extreme among them; the isolating
and diversifying tendencies have had full course, with little
counteraction from the conserving and assimilating forces.
The continent seems ever to have been peopled by a congeries of petty tribes, incessantly at warfare, or standing off
from one another in jealous and suspicious seclusion.  Certaill striking exceptions, it is true, are present to the mind of
every one.  Mexico, Central America, and Peru, at the time




tX.]             AMERICAN LANGUAGES.                347
of the Spanish discovery and conquest, were the seat of
empires possessing an organized system of government, with
national creeds and institutions, with modes of writing and
styles of architecture, and other appliances of a considerably
developed culture, of indigenous origin. Such relics, too,
as the great mounds which are scattered so widely through
our western country, and the ancient workings upon the
veins and ledges of native copper along the southern shore
of Lake Superior, show that other large portions of the
northern continent had not always been in the same savage
condition as that in which our ancestors found them. Yet
these were exceptions only, not changing the general rule;
and there is reason to believe that, as the civilization of the
Mississippi valley had been extinguished by the incursion
and conquest of more barbarous tribes, so a similar fate was
threatening that of the southern peoples: that, in fact,
American culture was on its way to destruction even with.
out European interference, as European culture for a time
had seemed to be, during the Dark Ages which attended the
downfall of the Roman empire.  If the differentiation of
American language has been thus unchecked by the influence
of culture, it has been also favoured by the influence of the
variety of climate and mode of life. While the other great
families occupy, for the most part, one region or one zone,
the American tribes have been exposed to all the difference
of circumstances which can find place between the Arctic
and the Antarctic oceans, amid ice-fields, mountains, valleys,
on dry table-lands aend in reeking river-basins, along shores
of every cime.  Moreover, these languages have shown
themselves to possess a peculiar mobility and changeableness
of material.  There are groups of kindred tribes whose
separation is known to be of not very long standing, but in
whose speech the correspondences are almost overwhelmed
and hidden from sight by the discordances which have sprung
up. In raore than one tongue it has been remarked that
books of instruction prepared by missionaries have become
antiquated and almost unintelligible in three or four genera.
tions. Add to all this, that our knowledge of the family begins in the most, recent period, less than four hundred years




848                   LANGUAGES OF THE                     [LECT,
ago; that, though it has been since penetrated and pressed
on everyr side by cultivated nations, the efforts made to collect
anml preserve information respecting it have been only spasmodic and fragmentary; that it is almost wholly destitute of
literature, and even of traditions of any authority and value;
and that great numbers of its constituent members have
perished, in the wasting away of the tribes by mutual warfare, by pestilence and famine, and by the encroachments of
more powerful races-and it will be clearly seen that the
comprehensive comparative study of American languages is
beset with very great difficulties.
Yet it is the confident opinion of linguistic scholars that a
fundamental unity lies at the base of all these infinitely varying forms of speech; that they may be, and probably are, all
descended from a single parent language.* For, whatever
their differences of material, there is a single type or plan
upon which their forms are developed and their constructions
made, from  the Arctic Ocean to Cape Horn; and one sufficiently peculiar and distinctive to constitute a genuine indication of relationship. This type is called the incorporative
or polysynthetic. It tends to the excessive and abnormal
agglomeration of distinct significant elements in its words;
whereby, on the one hand, cumbrous compounds are formed
as the names of objects, and a character of tedious and timewasting polysyllabism is given to the language-see, for
example, the three to ten-syllabled numeral and pronominal
words of our western Indian tongues; or the Mexican name
for'goat,' kwa-kwauh tentsone, literally'head-tree (horn).
lip-hair (beard),' or'the horned and bearded one'-and, on
the other hand, and what is of yet more importance, an
unwieldy aggregation, verbal or quasi-verbal, is substituted
* I make no account here of isolated dialects of an exceptional character,
like the Otomi in central Mexico, which is asserted to be a monosyllabic lan.
guage; nor of others which may exhibit the characteristic features of American speech so faintly, or in such a modified form, as to be hardly recognizable
by their structure as American: it remains vet to be determined whether
such seeming exceptions do or do not admit of explanation ar the result of
special historical development. Nor, of course, is the possibility denied that
fuller knowledge will oring to light tongues radically and irreconcilably dis.
toztant from the general type.




MX.]               AMERICAN FAMILY.                  39S
for the phtrase or sentence, with its distinct and balanced
members. Thus, the Mexican says " I-flesh-eat," as a single
word, compounded of three elements; or if, for emphasis,
the object is left to stand separate, it is at least first represented by a pronoun in the verbal compound: as, " I-it-eat,
the flesh;" or " I-it-him-give, the bread, my son," for "I
give my son the bread."
The incorporative type is not wholly peculiar to the languages of our continent. A trace of it (in the insertion,
among the verbal forms, of an objective as well as a subjective pronominal ending) is found even in one of the Ugrian
dialects of the Scythian family, the Hungarian; and the
Basque, of which we shall presently speak more particularly, exhibits it in a very notable measure. It is found, too,
in considerably varying degree and style of development in
the different branches of the American family.  But its
general effect is still such that the linguist is able to claim
that the languages to which it belongs are, in virtue of
their structure, akin with one another, and distinguished
from all other known tongues.
Not only do the subjective and objective pronouns thus
enter into the substance of the verb, but also a great. variety
of modifiers of the verbal action, adverbs, in the form  of
particles and fragments of words; thus, almost everything
which helps to make expression forms a part of verbal conjugation, and the verbal paradigm becomes well-nigh interminable. An extreme instance of excessive synthesis is afforded in the Cherokee word-phrase wi-ni-taw-ti-ge-gi-na-liskaw-lung-ta-naw-ne-li-ti-se-sti,' they will by that time have
nearly finished granting [favours] from a distance to thee
and me.' *
Other common traits, which help to strengthen our conclusion that these languages are ultimately related, are not
wanting.  Such are, for example, the habit of combining
words by fragments, by one or two representative syllables;
the direct conversion of nouns, substantive and adjective,
into verbs, and their conjugation as such; peculiarities of
A. Gallatin in Archaeologia Americana, vol. ii. (Cambridge, 1886), p. 201,




850           CHARACTER AND CONNECTIONS          [LEZ.
generic distinction-many languages dividing animate from
inanimate beings (somewhat as we do by the use of who and
what), with arbitrary and fanciful details of classification,
like those exhibited by the Indo-European languages in their
separation of masculine and feminine; the possession of a
very peculiar scheme for denoting the degrees of family
relationship; and so on.
As regards their material constitution, their assignment of
certain sounds to represent certain ideas, our Indian dialects
show, as already remarked, a very great discordance. It has
been claimed that there are not less than a hundred languages or groups upon the continent, between whose words
are discoverable no correspondences which might not be sufficiently explained as the result of accident. Doubtless a
more thorough and sharpsighted investigation, a more penetrating linguistic analysis and comparison-though, under
existing circumstances, any even distant approximation to
the actual beginning may be hopeless —would considerably
reduce this number; yet there might still remain as many
unconnected groups as are to be found in all Europe and
Asia. It is needless to undertake here an enumeration of
the divisions of Indian speech: we will but notice a few of
the most important groups occupying our own portion of
the continent.
In the extreme north, along the whole shore of the Arctic
ocean, are the Eskimo dialects, with which is nearly allied the
Greenlandish. Below them is spread out, on the west, the
great Athapaskan group. On the east, and as far south as
the line of Tennessee and North Carolina, stretches the immense region occupied by the numerous dialects of the
Algonquin or Delaware stock; within it, however, is enclosed
the distinct branch of Iroquois languages. Our south-eastern states were in possession of the Florida group, comprising the Creek, Choctaw, and Cherokee. The great nation of
the Sioux or Dakotas gives its name to the branch which oc.
cupied the Missouri valley and parts of the lower Mississippi.
Another wide-spread sub-family, including the Shoshonee and
Comanche, ranged from the shores of Texas north-westward
to the borders of California and the territory of the Atha.




IX.]           OF AMERICAN LANGUAGES.              351
paskas; and the Pacific coast was occupied by a medley of
tribes.  Mexico and Central America, finally, were the home
of a great variety of tongues, that of the cultivated Aztecs,
with its kindred, having the widest range.
The linguistic condition of America, and the state of our
knowledge respecting it, being such as we have here seen, it
is evident how futile must be at present any attempt to
prove by the evidence of language the peopling of the continent from Asia, or from any other part of the world outside.
We have already noticed that a relationship is asserted to
exist between the Eskimo branch of American language and
a dialect or two in the extreme north-east of Asia; but the
fact that it is a specifically Eskimo relationship is sufficient
to prove its worthlessness as a help to the explanation of
the origin of American language in general, and to make it
probable that the communication there has been from
America to Asia, and not the contrary.  To enter upon a
bare and direct comparison of modern American with modern
Asiatic dialects, for the purpose of discovering signs of
genetic connection between them, would be a proceeding
utterly at variance with all the principles of linguistic
science, and could lead to no results possessing any signifi.
cance or value. One might as well compare together the
English, the modern Syriac, and the Hungarian, in order to
determine the ultimate relationship of the Inudo-European,
Semitic, and Scythian families. Sound method (as was
pointed out in the sixth lecture) requires that we study each
dialect, group, branch, and family by itself, before we venture
to examine and pronounce upon its more distant connections.
What we have to do at present, then, is simply to learn all
that we possibly can of the Indian languages themselves; to
settle their internal relations, elicit their laws of growth,
reconstruct their older forms, and ascend toward their original condition as far as the material within our reach, and
the state in which it is presented, will allow;. if our
studies shall at length put us in a position to deal with the
question of their Asiatic derivation, we will rejoice at it. - I
do not myself expect that valuable light will ever. be shed
apon the subject by linguistic evidence: others may be more




352         STUDY OF AMERICAN LANGUAGES.          [LEA
sanguine; but all must at any rate agree that, as things are,
the subject is in no position to be taken up and discussed
with profit. The absurd theories which have been advanced
and gravely defended by men of learning and acuteness respecting the origin of the Indian races are hardly worth even
a passing reference. The culture of the more advanced
communities has been irrefragably proved to be derived from
Egypt, Phenicia, India, and nearly every other anciently
civilized country of the Old World: the whole history of
migration of the tribes themselves has been traced in detail
over Behring's Straits, through the islands of the Pacific, and
across the Atlantic; they have been identified with the
Canaanites, whom Joshua and the Israelites exterminated;
and, worst of all, with the ten Israelitish tribes deported from
their own country by the sovereigns of Mesopotamia! When
men sit down with minds crammed with scattering items of
historical information, abounding prejudices, and teeming
fancies, to the solution of questions respecting whose conditions they know nothing, there is no folly which they are
not prepared to commit.
Our national duty and honour are peculiarly concerned in
this matter of the study of aboriginal American languages,
as the most fertile and important branch of American archaeology.  Europeans accuse us, with too much reason, of
indifference and inefficiency with regard to preserving memorials of the races whom we have dispossessed and are dispossessing, and to promoting a thorough comprehension
of their history. Indian scholars, and associations which
devote themselves to gathering together and making public
linguistic and other archaeological materials for construction
of the proper ethnology of the continent, are far rarer than
they should be among us.  Not a literary institution in our
country has among its teachers one whose business it is to
investigate the languages of our aboriginal populations, and
to acquire and diffuse true knowledge respecting them and
their history.* So much the more reason have we to be
grateful to the few who are endeavouring to make up our de* This reproach, at least, is about to be removed, by the establishment of
a ioair of American archaeology at Cambridge.




~IC.]              BASQUE LANGUAGE.                  353
ficioncies b3 self-prompted study, and especially to those
self-denying men who, under circumstances of no small difficulty, are or have been devoting themselves to the work of
collecting and giving to the world original materials.  The
Smithsonian Institution has recently taken upon itself the
office of encouraging, guiding, and giving effect to the
labours of collectors, under special advantages derived from
its relation to the Government, with laudable zeal, and with
the best promise of valuable results. No department of in.
quiry, certainly, within the circle of the historical sciences,
has a stronger claim upon the attention of such a national
institution; and it becomes all Americans to countenance
and aid its efforts by every means in their power.
Before closing this cursory and imperfect survey of the
varieties of human language, we have to glance at one or
two dialects or groups of dialects which have hitherto resisted all attempts at classification.  Most noteworthy
among these is the Basque, spoken in a little district of the
Pyrenees, on both sides of the border between France and
Spain, enveloping the angle of the Bay of Biscay, between
Bayonne and Balbao. The Basques are well identified as
descended from the primitive Iberian population which is
supposed to have filled the Spanish peninsula before the intrusion of the Celts: their stubborn and persistent character
and the inaccessibility of their mountain retreats have
enabled their native idiom successfully to resist the assimilating influences exercised by successive Celtic, Roman, and
Gothic conquest and domination. It stands, so far as is yet
known, alone among the languages of mankind; kindred has
been sought and even claimed for it in every direction, but
to no good purpose. It is, then, naturally enough conjectured to be a sole surviving remnant of the speech of an aboriginal race, peopling some part of Europe before the
immigration of the Indo-European tribes, perhaps before
that of the Scythian; and t;he possibility that it may be so
invests it with an unusual degree of interest. Its structure
is exceedingly peculiar, intricate, and difficult of analysis.
As we have already had occasion to notice, it possesses muchy
more striking analogies with the aboriginal languages of
23




8541      ETRUSCAN AND CAUCASIAN LANGUAGES.    [LEOI.
America than with any others that are known: like them, it
is highly polysynthetic, incorporating into its verbal forms a
host of pronominal relations which are elsewhere expressed
by independent words; like them, also, it compounds words
together by representative fragments.  But it does not
show the same tendency to fuse the whole sentence into a
verb; its nouns have an inflection which is much more
Scythian than American in type; and there are other differences which distinctly enough discourage the conjecture that
it can be historically akin with the tongues of this continent.
Some other among the various populations of southern Europe, treated by the ancients as of strange tongue and line.
age, and which have now totally disappeared, may possibly
have been akin with the Basques: such questions are covered. with a darkness which we cannot hope ever to see dis.
pelled.
In Italy are still found the relies of one of these isolated
and perished peoples, the Etruscans.  They were a race of
much higher culture than the Basques, and their neighbourhood to Rome, and their resulting influence, peaceful and
warlike, upon her growing polity and developing history,
give them a historical importance to which the Iberian race
can lay no claim. Inscriptions in their language, written in
legible characters, and in some instances of assured meaning, are preserved to our day; yet its linguistic character
and connections are an unsolved and probably insoluble
problem. Every few years, some one of those philologists
whose judgments are easily taken captive by a few superficial correspondences claims to have proved its relationship
with some known family, and thus to have determined the
ethnological position of the race that spoke it; but his arguments and conclusions are soon set aside as of no more value
than others already offered and rejected.
Again, there is found in the mountain-range of the Caucasus a little knot of idioms which have hitherto baffled the
efforts of linguistic scholars to connect them with other
known forms of speech. Their principal groups are four:
the Georgian and the Circassian stretch along the southern
and northern shores respectively of the eastern extremity of




Ix.]            ISOLATED LANGUAGES.               355
the Black Sea, and through the mountains nearly to the
Caspian; the Lesghian borders the Caspian; and the
Mitsjeghian lies between it and the Circassian. The G-eor.
gian possesses a peculiar alphabet and a literature; but tae
whole group, except as it presents a problem for the solu.
tion of the linguistic ethnographer, has no special importance.
The Albanian or Skipetar, the modern representative of
the ancient Illyrian, has already been spoken of as doubtfully classifiable with the Indo-European languages. If its
connection with them shall not finally be made out to the
satisfaction of the learned, it, too, will have to be numbered
among the isolated and problematical tongues.
One more Asiatic dialect may be worth a moment's notice:
the Yenisean, occupying a tract of country along the middle
course of the Yenisei, with traces in the mountains about
the head waters of that river; it belongs to the feeble and
scanty remnant of a people which is lost in the midst of
Scythian tribes, and apparently destined to be ere long absorbed by them, but which is proved to be of different race
by its wholly discordant language.
The number of such isolated tongues is, of course, liable to
be increased aswe come to knowmore thoroughlythe linguistic
condition'of regions of the world which are as yet only par.
tially explored.  There is a possibility that many types of
speech, once spread over wide domains, may exist at present
onlyfin scanty fragments, as well as that some may have
dsappeared altogether, leaving not even a trace behind




LECTURE X.
Olassification of languages. Morphological classifications; their defect&
Sbchleicher's morphological notation. Classification by general rank,
Superior value of genetic division.  Bearing of linguistic science on
ethnology. Comparative advantages and disadvantages of linguistic
and physical evidence of race.  Indo-European language and race
mainly coincident. Difficulty of the ethnological problem. Inability
of language to prove either unity or variety of human species. Acci.
dental correspondences; futility of root comparisons.
OUR inquiries into the history and relations of human
languages have last brought us to a review and brief exam.
ination of their groupings into families, so far as yet accom.
plished by the labours of linguistic students. The families
may be briefly recapitulated as follows. First in rank and
importance is the Indo-European, filling nearly the whole of
central and southern Europe, together with no inconsider.
able portion of south-western Asia, and with colonies in
every quarter of the globe; it includes the languages of
nearly all the modern, and of some of the most important of
the  ancient, civilized and civilizing races.   Next is the
Semitic, of prominence in the world's history second only to
the Indo-European, having its station in Arabia and the
neighbouring regions of Asia and Africa. Then follows the
loosely aggregated family of the Scythian dialects, as we
chose to term them, ranging from Norway almost to
Behring's Straits, and occupying a good part of central Asia
also, with outliers in southern Europe (Hlulgary and
Turkey), and possibly in southernmost Asia (the Dekhan, or
peninsula of India).  Further, the south-eastern Asiatic or




x.]          CLASSIFICATION te LANGUAGES.           357
monosyllabic family, in  China and Farther India, and
countries adjacent to these; the Malay-Polynesian and
Melaneslan, scattered over the numberless islands of the
Pacific and Indian Oceans; the Hamitic, composed of the
Egyptian and its congeners, chiefly in northern Africa; the
South-African, filling Africa about and below the equator;
and the American, covering with its greatly varied forms
our western continent, from the Arctic Ocean to the Antarctic.
Besides these great families, we took note of several isolated
languages or lesser groups, of doubtful or wholly unknown
relationship: as those in extreme north-eastern Asia, in the
Caucasian mountains, in central Africa; as the Basque in
the Pyrenees, the Albanian in north-western Greece, the
Yenisean in Siberia, and the extinct Etruscan in northern
Italy.
The scheme of classification, as thus drawn out, was a
genetical one, founded on actual historical relationship. Each
family or group -was intended to be made up of those
tongues which there is found sufficient reason to regard as
kindred dialects, as common descendants of the same original.
We were obTiged, however, to confess that our classification
had not everywhere the same value, as the evidences of
relationship were not of an equallyunequivocal character in all
the families, or else had been thus far incompletely gathered
in and examined. Where, as in the case of Indo-European
and Semitic speech, we find structural accordance combined
with identity of material, as traced out and determined by
long-continued and penetrating study on the part of many
investigators, there the unity of the families is placed beyond
the reach of reasonable doubt.  But it is unfortunately true
that these two are the only groups of wide extent and first.
rate importance respecting which the linguistic student can
speak with such fulness of confidence; everywhere else, there
is either some present deficiency of information, which time
may or may not remove, or the conditions are such that our
belief in the genetic relationship must rest upon the more
questionable ground of correspondence in structural develop.
ment. We may by no means deny that morphological
accordance is capable of rising to such a value as should




358         MORPHOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATIONS         [LECT.
make it a sufficient and convincing evidence of genetic
unity; but it is evidently of a less direct and unmistakable
character than material identity, and requires for its estima.
tion a wider range of knowledge, a more acute insight, and a
more cautious judgment. If two languages agree in the
very material of which their words and apparatus of gram.
matical inflection are composed, to a degree beyond what
can possibly be regarded as the effect of accident or of
borrowing, the conclusion that they are akin is inevitable;
nothing but community of linguistic tradition call explain
such phenomena: but agreement in the style only in which
words are composed and thought expressed admits of being
attributed to causes other than historical-to equality of
mental endowment, of intellectual force and training. We
may look hopefully forward to the time when linguistic
science shall have reached such a pitch of perfection, shall
have so thoroughly mastered the infinitely varied phenomena
of universal human language and traced out their causes,
that she shall be able to separate with certainty the efects
of ethnic capacity from those of transmitted habit: but that
time has certainly not yet come; and, as the vflue of morphological accordances as evidence of genetic connection has
hitherto been repeatedly overrated, so it will long, and
always in unskilful or incautious hands, be peculiarly liable
to a like mistreatment.
We have already had occasion to refer to and describe
some of the principal structural peculiarities which are illustrated in the variety of human tongues; but it will be worth
while here to bestow a few words farther upon them, and
upon the systems of morphological classification to which
they have served as foundation.
The languages of mankind have been divided into two
grand classes, the monosyllabic (otherwise called isolating,
or radical) and the polysyllabic (or inflectional). To the
former belong the tongues of China and Farther India, with
their relatives in the same quarter of Asia, and perhaps one
or two idioms in other parts of the world. In them there is a
formal identity of root and word; none of their vocables are
made up of radical and formative elements, the one giving




t.]                  OF LANGUAGES.                   859
the principal idea, the other indicating its limitation, appli.
cation, or relation; they possess no formally distinguished
parts of speech. Usage may assign to some of their roots
the offices which in inflectional tongues are filled by inflective
endings, suffixes or prefixes; it may also stamp some as
adjectives, others as nouns, as pronouns, as verbs, and so
on: yet means of this sort can only partially supply their
lack of the resources possessed by more happily developed
languages; categories undistinguished in expression are but
imperfectly, if at all, distinguished in apprehension; thought
is but brokenly represented and feebly aided by its instru.
nent.  To the latter, or inflectional class, belong all the
other languages of the world, which, whatever and however
great their differences, have at least this in common, that
their signs of category and relation are not always separate
words, but parts of other words, that their vocables are, to
some extent, made up of at least two elements, the one
radical, the other formative.  There can be, it is evident, no
more fundamental difference in linguistic structure than
this. And yet, it is not an absolute and determinate one.
It lies in the nature of the case that, as the inflectional languages have grown out of a monosyllabic and non-inflecting
stage, there should be certain tongues, as there are in other
tongues certain forms, which stand so closely upon the line of
division between the two stages, that it is hard to tell whether
they are the one thing or the other. In our own tongue, there
is no definite division-line to be drawn anywhere in the
series of steps that conducts from a mere collocation to a
pure form-word-from house floor to house-top, from tear-filled
to tearful, from godlike to godly; and, in like manner, it is
often a matter of doubt, in languages of low development,
where isolation ends and where a loose agglutination begins.
Thus, even the Chinese, the purest type of the isolating
structure, is by some regarded as, in its colloquial forms, and
yet more in some of its dialects, a language of compounded
words; and the possession of one or two real formative elements has been claimed for the Burmese; while the Himalaya is likely to furnish dialects whose character, as isoa-ted
or agglutinative, will be much disputed.




360          MORPHOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATIONS         [LECf.
But the main objection to the classification we are con.
sidering is not so much its want of absolute distinctness (a
defect incident to all classification, in every department of
science) as its one-sidedness: it is too much like the proverbial lover's division of the world into two parts, that
where the beloved object is and that where she is not: it
leaves almost all human tongues in one huge class together.
Accordingly a much more popular and current system distinguishes three primary orders, separating the mass of
inflectional languages into such as are agglutinative, or
attach their formative elements somewhat loosely to a root
which is not liable to variation; and such as are inflective,
3r unite more thoroughly their radical and formative elements, and make internal changes of the root itself bear
their part, either primarily or secondarily, in the expression
of grammatical relations.  The distinction between these
three orders is well expressed by Professor Max Muller in
the following terms:"1. Roots may be used as words, each root preserving its
full independence.
"2. Two roots may be joined together to form words,
and in these compounds one root may lose its independence.
"3. Two roots may be joined together to form words,
and in these compounds both roots may lose their independence."*
No better scheme of division, of a simple and comprehensive character, has yet been devised than this, and it is likely
to maintain itself long in use. It faithfully represents, in
the main, three successive stages in the history of language,
three ascending grades of linguistic development. But its
value must not be overrated, nor its defects passed without
notice. In the first place, it does not include all the possible
and actually realized varieties in the mode of formation,of
words. It leaves altogether out of account that internal
change of vowels which, as was shown in the eighth lecture,
is the characteristic and principal means of grammatical
k-aflection in the Semitic tongues. The distinctions of jatala,
ie killed,' gutila,'he was killed,' qattala,'he massacred,'
Lectures, first series, eighth lecture.




x.]               AND THEIR DEFECTS.                861
qdtala,'he tried to kill,' aqtala,'he caused to kill,' and the
ike, are not explainable by any composition of roots and loss
of their independence, even though the somewhat analogous
differences of man and men, lead and led, sing and sang, sit
and set, do admit of such explanation. In the second place,
it is liable to something of the same reproach of one-sidedness which lies against the former, the double method of
classification. It puts into a separate class, as inflective
languages, only two families, the Indo-European and the
Semitic: these tre, to be sure, of wide extent and unapproached importance; yet the mass of spoken tongues is
still left in one immense and heterogeneous body. And
finally, a yet more fundamental objection to the scheme is
this heterogeneity, which characterizes not its middle class
alone, but its highest also. It classes Indo-European and
Semitic speech together, as morphologically alike, while yet
their structural discordance is vastly greater than that
which separates Indo-European from many of the agglutina.
tive tongues-in some respects, even greater than that
which separates Indo-European from the generality of agglu.
tinative and from the isolating tongues. Not only are the
higher Scythian dialects, as the Finnish and Hungarian,
almost inflective, and inflective upon a plan which is sufficiently analogous with the Indo-European, but, from a
theoretical point of view (however the case may be histori.
cally), Chinese, Scythian, and Indo-European are so many
steps in one line and direction of progress, differing in degree
but not in kind: Semitic speech, on the other hand, if it
started originally from the same or a like centre, has reached
an equally distant point in a wholly different direction. The
two inflective families may lie upon the same circumference,
but they are separated by the whole length of the diameter,
being twice as far from one another as is either from the
indifferent middle.  A less fundamental discordance, per.
haps, but an equal variety of structure, belorgs to those
tongies which are classed together as agglutinative.  ThA
order includes such extremes in degree of agglutination as
the barren and almost isolating Manchu or Egyptian, on the
one hand, and, on the other, the exuberaltly aggregative




862          MORPHOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATIONS         [LEOT.
Turkish and the often excessively agglomerative American or
Basque; it includes such differences in the mode of agglu.
tination as are presented by the Scythian, which makes its
combinations solely by suffixes, and the Malay or South~
African, which form theirs mainly by prefixes. Here, again,
it may be made a question whether the morphological
relationship of Scythian and Indo-European be not closer
than that of Scythian and Malay.  The principle which
divides the two former is, it is true, reasonably to be regarded
as of a higher order than that which dividesthe two latter;
yet it is more teleological than morphological; it concerns
rather the end attained than the means of attainment. The
reach and value, too, of the distinctively inflective principle,
as developed in Indo-European language, is, as I cannot but
think, not infrequently overrated. In no small part of the
material of our own tongue, for example, the root or theme
maintains its own form and distinction from the affixes, and
these their distinction from one another, not less completely
than is the case in Scythian. All the derivatives of love, as
love-d, lov-ing, lov-er, love-ly; the derivatives of true, as tru-ly,
truth, tr~tru-ful-thru-th-ful-ly, un-tru-th-ful-ly —these, and the
host of formations like them, are strictly agglutinative in
type: but we do not recognize in them  any inferiority as
means of expression to those derivatives in which the radical
part has undergone a more marked fusion, or disguising
change.  Loved from love is as good a preterit as led from
lead, or sang from sing; truth from true is as good an abstract
as length from  long, or filth from foul; nor is the Latin
lIdo-r,'I am  hurt,' from  lcdo,'I hurt,' inferior to the
nearly equivalent Arabic gutila, from qatala. The claim
might plausibly enough be set up that the unity which the
Scythian gives to its derivative words by making the vowels
of their suffixes sympathize with that of the principal or
radical element, is at least as valuable, in itself considered, as
the capacity of an Indo-European root to be phonetically
affected by the ending that is attached to it-a subjection of
the superior to the inferior element. Not that the actual
working-out of the latter principle in the tongues of our
family has not produced results of higher value than the




L])                AND THEIR DEFECTS.                363
former has led to; but this may be owing in great measure
to the way in which the two have been handled respectively.
The immensely comprehensive order of agglutinative languages is sometimes reduced a little by setting apart from it
a polysynthetic or incorporative class, composed of the
Basque and the American family. This, however, is rather
a subdivision of one of the members of the triple system than
the establishment of a new, a quadruple, scheme of classifica.
tion.
Professor Miiller* seeks to find a support and explanation
of the threefold division of human language which we are
now considering by paralleling it with the threefold con.
dition of human society, as patriarchal, nomadic, and politi.
cal.  Monosyllabic or "family languages" are in place,
according to him, among the members of a family, whose intimacy, and full knowledge of one another's dispositions and
thoughts, make it possible for each to understand the other
upon the briefest and most imperfect hints. Agglutinative
or "nomadic languages" are required by the circumstances
of a wandering and unsettled life; the constantly separating
and reassembling tribes could not keep up a mutual intelli.
genuce if they did not maintain the integrity of the radical
elements of their speech.  Inflective or "state languages"
are rendered possible by a regulated and stable condition of
society, where uninterrupted intercourse and constant tra..
dition facilitate mutual comprehension, notwithstanding the
fusion and integration of root and affix. The comparison i.s
ingenious and entertaining, but;t is too little favoured by
either linguistic philosophy or linguistic history to be entitled to any other praise.  It would fain introduce into the
processes of linguistic life an element of reflective anticipation, of prevision and deliberate provision, which is altogether
foreign to them. That wandering tribes should, in view of
their scanty intercourse, their frequent partings to be fol.
lowed by possible meetings, conclude that they ought to
keep their roots unmodified, is quite inconceivable; nor is it
* In his Letter on the Classification of the Turanian Languages, p. 21
weq. see also his Lectures, first series.




364                SCHLEICHER'S SYSTEM                [LECT.
easy to see what purpose the resolution should serve, if the
endings are at the same time to be suffered to vary so
rapidly that mutual unintelligibility is soon brought about.
In every uncultivated community, the language is left to take
care of itself; it becomes what the exigencies of practical
use make it, not what a forecasting view of future possibilities leads its speakers to think that it might with advantage
be made to be: let two tribes be parted from one another,
and neither has any regard to the welfare of its fellow in
shaping its own daily speech. In point of fact, moreover,
Indo-European languages were inflective, were "state languages," long before the tribes had formed states — while
many of them were as nomadic in their habits as the wildest
of the so-called Turanian tribes. And to denominate the
immense and highly-organized Chinese empire a mere exaggerated family, and account for the peculiarities of its speech
by reference to the conditions of a family, is fanciful in the
extreme. No nomenclature founded on such unsubstantial
considerations has a good claim to the acceptance of linguistic scholars; and the one in. question has, it is believed,
won no general currency.
A very noteworthy attempt has been made within a short
time by Professor Schleicher, of Jena,* to give greater ful.
ness and precision to the morphological classification and
description of language, by a more thorough analysis, and a
kind of algebraic notation, of morphological characteristics.
A pure root, used as a word without variation of form  or
addition of formative elements, he denotes by a capital letter,
as A: a connected sentence expressed by a series of such
elements, as is sometimes the case in Chinese, he would represent by A B C, and so on.  Such a sentence we may
rudely illustrate by an English phrase like fish like water,
in which each word is a simple root or theme, without formal designation of relations.t   A root which, while retain* See his paper, "Contribution to the Morphology of Language," in the
Memoirs of the Academy of St. Petersburg, vol. i., No. 7 (1859); also, the
Introduction to his work, the " German Language" (Stuttgart, 1860), p. 11 seq.
t Of course, tho parallel is to be regarded as only an imperfect one:
thoug'a these three'words are to our apprehension primitives, they are fas




x.]             OF MORPHOLOGICAL NOTATION.                    365
ing its substantial independence, is so modified in signification
and restricted in application as to form an auxiliary or ad.
junct to another root (whichwas shown in the last lecture to be
a frequent phenomenon in the isolating languages), is marked
by an accented letter, as A': thus, in the English, shall like
would be represented by A' +  A; shall have put, by A' +  -B
+  A: the interposed sign of addition indicating the closeness of relation between the elements. The position of the
accented letters in the formula would point out whether the
auxiliaries are placed after the main word, as in Burmese, or
before it, as in Siamese, or on either or both sides, as sometimes in Chinese.
If, now, the formative element is combined with the radical
into a single word, it is indicated by a small letter, which is
put before or after the capital which stands for the root, according to the actual position of the elements in combination.
Thus, if we represent true by A, untrue would be aA; truly
or truth would be Aa; untruly, aAb; untruthfully, aAbed; and
so on.  Expressions of this kind belong to the agglutinative
type of structure; and they are, it is plain, capable of very
considerable variation, so as to be made to denote the
various kinds and degrees of agglutination. It is possible,
for example, to distinguish the endings of inflection from
those of derivation, or elements of pronominal from those of
predicative origin, by the use of a different series of letters
(as the Greek) to indicate one of the classes: thus, truths
might be Aaa, but truthful Aab;  babalarumdan, in Turkish
(see above, p. 318), might be Aa[y, but sevishdirilememek,
Aabedef. An adroit use of such means of distinction might
enable one even to set forth with sufficient clearness the
peculiarities and intricacies of polysynthetic tongues.
from being ultimate roots; they all either contain formative elements added
to such a root, or have possessed and lost them; each is, to be sure, employable as noun, adjective, or verb, without change of form, yet not, like Chinese
roots, in virtue of an original indefiniteness of meaning, but as one distinct
part of speech is in our usage convertible directly into others; nor can it be
said that, even as they stand, they are altogether formless; for each is defined in certain relations by the absence of formative elements which it would
otherwise exhibit: water is shown to be singular by lacking an 8, fish and
hke to be plural ty the absence of 8 from like.




866       SCHLEICHER S MORPHOLOGICAL NOTATION.   [LECOT
Again, an inflective change of the root itself for the ex.
pression of grammatical relations is denotable by exponents
attached to the root-symbol. Thus, man being A, men would
be Aa; men's, Aaa; sang, sung, song, from sing, would be denoted by Aa, Ab, Ac; spoken, from speak, would be Aaa; its
German counterpart, gesprochen, aAab.  And in the Semitic
tongues, where the root never appears without a vocalization
which is formal and significant, the constant radical emblem
would be Aa.*
Compounds, finally, wczild be expressed in this method by
putting side by side the symbols expressive of their separate
members, the capital letters with their modifications and adjuncts.  Hfouse-top would be AB; songwriter, AaBa; and
so on.
It is unnecessary to explain with any more of detail
Professor Schleicher's system of morphological notation, or
to spend many words in pointing out its convenience and
value. It may evidently be made a means of apprehending
distinctly, and setting forth clearly, the main structural features of any language. It will not, indeed, enable us to put
in a brief and compact form of statement the whole morphological character of every spoken tongue.   Most tongues
admit no small variety of formations; each must be judged
by its prevailing modes of formation, by the average of highest and  lowest modes, by their respective  frequency  of
application, and the purposes they are made to serve. It
does not help us to a simple and facile scale and classification
of all the dialects of mankind; but this is to be imputed to
* Professor Schleicher, indeed, adopts this emblem as that of the IndoEuropean root also, since he holds the view, briefly stated and controverted
above (in the eighth lecture, p. 293), that the radicals of our family were
originally liable to a regular variation, of symbolic significance, for purposes
of grammatical expression. I regard it, on the contrary, as the weak point in
his system, as applied by himself, that it does not distinguish an internal
fiection like the Semitic —which, so far as we can trace its history, is ultimate and original, and which continues in full force, in old material and in
new formations, through the whole history of the languages-from one like
the Indo-European, which is rather secondary and accidental, constantly
arising in new cases under the influence of phonetic circumstances, but never
winning a pervading force, and in many members of the family hardly taking
on anywhere a regular form and office, as significant of relations.




i.]            TESTS OF LINGUISTIC RANK.            367
it as a merit, not as a fault: it thus fairly represents the
exceeding variety of languages, the complexity of the characteristics which distinguish them, and their incapacity of
separation into a few sharply defined classes.
No single trait or class of traits, however fundamental
may be its importance, can be admitted as a definite criterion
by which the character of a language shall be judged, and its
rank determined.  We saw reason above to challenge the
absolute superiority of the inflective principle, strongly as it
may indicate a valuable tendency in language-making. Certainly it is wholly conceivable that some language of the
agglutinative class may decidedly surpass in strength and
suppleness, in adaptedness to its use as the instrument and
aid of thought, some other language or languages of the inflective class.  Not morphological character alone is to be
taken account of; for not every race of equal mental endowment has originated and shaped a language, any more than
an art, of equivalent formal merit. Some one needed item
of capacity was wanting, and the product remains unartistic;
or the work of the earliest period, which has determined the
grand features of the whole after-development, was un.
adroitly performed; the first generations left to their successors a body of constraining usages and misguiding
analogies, the influence of which is not to be shaken off; and
the mental power of the race is shown by the skill and force
with which it wields an imperfect instrument.  Many a
tongue thus stands higher, or lower, in virtue of the sum of
its qualities, than its morphological character would naturally
indicate. The Chinese is one of the most striking instances
of such a discordance; though so nearly formless, in a morphological sense, it is nevertheless placed by Wilhelm von
Humboldt and Steinthal * in their higher class of "form
languages," along with the Indo-European and Semitic, as
being a not unsuitable incorporation of clear logical thought;
as, though not distinctly indicating relations and categories,
yet not cumbering their conception, their mental appre.
hension, by material adjuncts which weaken and confuse the
thought.
See the latter's Charakteristik etc., pp. 70, 327.




868           CLASSIFICATION OF LANGUAGES          [LEUT.
But further, apart from this whole matter of morphologi.
cal form, of grammatical structure, of the indication, expressed
or implied, of relations, another department contributes
essentially to our estimate of the value of a language:
namely, its material content, or what is signified by its
words. The universe, with all its objects and their qualities,
is put before the language-makers to be comprehended and
expressed, and the different races, and tribes, and communities, have solved the problem after a very different fashion.
Names-giving implies not merely the distinction of individual
things, but, no less, classification and analysis, in every kind,
and of every degree of subtlety. There are conceptions,
and classes of conceptions, of so obvious and practical character, that their designations are to be found in every language that exists or ever has existed: there are hosts of
others which one community, or many, or the most, have
never reached. Does a given tongue show that the race
which speaks it has devoted its exclusive attention to the
more trivial matters in the world without and within us, or
has it apprehended higher things?  Has it, for example, so
studied and noted the aspects of nature that it can describe
them in terms of picturesque power? Has it distinguished
with intellectual acuteness and spiritual insight the powers
and operations of our internal nature, our mind and soul, so
that it can discuss psychological questions with significance
and precision?  Any dialect, isolating or inflective, monosyllabic or polysynthetic, may be raised or lowered in the
scale of languages by the characteristics which such inquiries
bring to light. In these, too, there is the widest diversity,
depending on original capacity, on acquired information and
civilization, and on variety of external circumstance and con.
dition-a diversity among different branches of the same
race, different periods of the same history, and, where culture
and education introduce their separating influences, between
different classes of the same community.  Our earliest
inquiries (in the first three lectures) into the processes of
linguistic growth showed us that the changes which bring
about this diversity, the accretions to the vocabulary of a
tongue, the deepening of the meaning of its words, are the




L]           BY tHEIR COMPARATIVE VALUE.            369
easiest of all to make, the most pervading and irrepressiblh
in their action, throughout every period of its existence.
Here, then, more than in any other department, it is practicable for later generations to amend and complete the work
of earlier; and yet, such is the power of linguistic habit
that, even here, original infelicities sometimes adhere to a
language during its whole development.
To make out a satisfactory scheme of arrangement for all
human tongues upon the ground of their comparative value,
accordingly, will be a task of extreme difficulty, and one of
the last results reached by linguistic science. It will require
a degree of penetration into the inmost secrets of structure
and usage, an acuteness of perception and freedom from
prejudice in estimating merits of diverse character, and a
breadth and reach of learning, which will be found attainable
only by a few master-minds.  Great play is here afforded
for subjective views, for inherited prepossessions, for sway of
mental habits. Who of us can be trusted fairly to compare
the advantages of his own and of any other language?
There can be no question that, of all the modes of classifi.
cation with which linguistic scholars have had to do, the one
of first and most fundamental importance is the genetical, or
that which groups together, and holds apart from others,
languages giving evidence of derivation from the same
original. It underlies and furnishes the foundation of all the
remaining modes. There can be no tie between any two
dialects so strong as that of a common descent. Every
great family has a structural character of its own, whereby,
whatever may be the varying development of its members,
it is made a unit, and more or less strikingly distinguished
from the rest. Whatever other criterion we may apply is
analogous in its character and bearings with the distinction
of apetalous, monopetalous, and polypetalous, or of monogynous, digynous, etc., or of exogenous and endogenous, or of
pheiogyamous and cryptogamous, in the science of botany —
all of Ihem possessing real importance in different degrees,
variously crossing one another, and marking out certain
general divisions; while the arrangement of linguistic
families corresponds with the division of plants into natural
24




870             LINGUISTIO AND PHYSICAL           [LEMT.
orders, founded upon a consideration of the whole complicate
structure of the things classified, contemplating the sum of
their characteristic qualities; fixing, therefore, their position
in the vast kingdom of nature of which they are members, and
determining the names by which they shall be called. The
genetical classification is the ultimate historical fact which
the historical method of linguistic study directly aims at
establishing. With its establishment are bound up those
more general historical results, for the ethnological history
of mankind, which form so conspicuous a part of the interest
of our science.
To subjects connected with this department of interest,
the bearing of linguistic science on ethnology, we have next
to turn our attention, occupying with them the remainder of
the present lecture.
One of the first considerations which will be apt to strike
the notice of any one who reviews our classification of human
races according to the relationship of their languages, is its
non-agreement with the current divisions based on physical
characteristics. The physicists, indeed, are far from having
yet arrived at accordance in their own schemes of classification, and the utter insufficiency of that old familiar distinc.
tion of Caucasian, Mongol, Malay, African, and American,
established by Blumenbach, and probably learned by most of
us at school, is now fully recognized. But it does not seem
practicable to lay down any system of physical races which
shall agree with any possible scheme of linguistic races.
Indo-European, Semitic, Scythian, and Caucasian tongues
are spoken by men whom the naturalist would not separate
from one another as of widely diverse stock; and, on the
other hand, Scythian dialects of close and indubitable relatioiship are in the mouths of peoples who differ as widely in
form and feature as Hungarians and Lapps; while not less
discordance of physical type is to be found among the
speakers of various dialects belonging to more than one of
the other great linguistic families.
Such facts as these call up the question, as one of high
practical consequence, respecting the comparative value of
linguistic and of physical evidence of race, and how their




x.]               EVIDENCE OF RACE.               371
seeming discrepancy is to be reconciled.  Some method o!
bringing about a reconciliation between them must evidently
be sought and found. For neither linguistic nor physical
ethnology is a science of classification merely; both claim to
be historical also. Both are working toward the same end:
Iamely, a tracing out of the actual connection and genealogical history of human races; and, though each must
follow its own methods, without undue interference from
without, they cannot labour independently, careless each of
the other's results. To point out the mode of reconciliation,
to remove the difficulties which lie in the way of harmonious
agreement between the two departments of ethnological
science, I shall not here make the least pretence; such a
result can be attained only when the principles and conclu.
sions of both are advanced and perfected far beyond their
present point. All that we can attempt to do is to notice
certain general considerations bearing upon the subject, and
requiring not to be lost from sight by either party; and
especially, to point out the limitations and imperfections of
both physical and linguistic evidence, and how necessary it
is that each should modestly solicit and frankly acknowledge
the aid of the other.
How language proves anything concerning race, and what
it does and does not prove, was brought clearly to light in
the course of our earliest inquiries into its nature and
history. What we then learned respecting the mode of
acquisition and transmission of each man's, and each community's, "native tongue " was sufficient to show us the total
error of two somewhat different, and yet fundamentally
accordant, views of language, which have been put forth and
defended by certain authorities-the one, that speech is to
man what his song is to the bird, what their roar, growl,
bellow are to lions, bears, oxen; and that resemblances of
dialect therefore no more indicate actual genetic connection
among different tribes of men than resemblances of uttered
tone indicate the common descent of various species of
thrushes, or of bears, inhabiting different parts of the world:
the other, that language is the immediate and necessary pro.
duct of physical organization, and varies as this varies; that
24 




372              VALUE OF LANGUAGE              [LEOT.
an Englishman, a Frenchman, and a Chinaman talk unlike
one another because their brains and organs of articulation
are unlike; and that all Englishmen talk alike, as do all
Frenchmen, or all Chinamen, because, in consequence of
their living amid similar physical conditions, and their inheritance of a common race-type, their nervous and muscular
systems minutely correspond. And doctrines akin with
these are more or less distinctly and consciously implied in
the views of those who hold that language is beyond the
reach of the free-agency of men, and can be neither made
nor changed by human effort. All who think thus virtually
deny the existence of such a thing as linguistic science, or
reduce it to the position of a subordinate branch of physiology: speech becomes a purely physical characteristic, one
among the many which by their common presence make up
man, and by their differences distinguish the different
varieties of men; and it would be for the physicist to determine, here, as in the case of other physical characteristics,
how far its joint possession indicated specific unity, or how
far its diversities of kind indicated specific variety. All
these false theories are brushed away at once by our recognition of the fact that we do not produce our speech from
within, but acquire it from without ourselves; that we
neither make nor inherit the words we use, whether of our
native tongue or of any other, but learn them from our
instructors.
But from this it also follows that no individual's speech
directly and necessarily marks his descent; it only shows in
what community he grew up. Language is no infallible
sign of race, but only its probable indication, and an indication of which the probability is exposed to very serious drawbacks. For it is evident that those who taught us to speak,
of whose means of expression we learned to avail ourselves,
need not have been of our own kith and kin. Not only
may individuals, families, groups of families, of almost every
race on earth, be, as at present in America, turned into and
absorbed by one great community, and made to adopt its
speech, but a strange tongue may be learned by whole tribes
and nations of those who; like our negroes, are brought




x.]              AS EVIDENCE OF RACE.             375
away frcm their native homes, or, like the Irish, have lived
long under a foreign yoke, or, like the Celts of ancient Gaul
and Spain, have received laws, civilization, and religion from
another and a superior race. Languages unnumbered and
innumerable have disappeared from off the face of the earth
since the beginning of human history; but only in part by
reason of the utter annihilation of the individuals who had
spoken them; more often, doubtless, by their dispersion, and
incorporation with other communities, of other speech.
Everywhere, too, where the confines of different forms of
speech meet, there goes on more or less of mixture between
them, or of effacement of the one by the other. Yet, on the
other hand, mixture of language is not necessary proof of
mixture of race. We can trace the genesis of a very large
part of our own vocabulary to the banks of the Tiber, but
hardly the faintest appreciable portion of our ancestry is
Roman. We obtained our Latin words in the most strangely
roundabout way: they were brought us by certain Germanic
adventurers, the Normans, who had learned them from a
mixed people, the French, chiefly of Celtic blood; and these,
again, had derived them from another heterogeneous compound of Italican races, among whom the Latin tribe was
numerically but a feeble element.
Of such nature are the difficulties in the way of our infer.
ring the race-connections of an individual or of a community
with certainty from the relations of the language which
either speaks. They are of undeniable force and importance,
and must be borne constantly in mind by every one who is
pursuing investigations, and laying down conclusions, in linguistic ethnology. They drive him to seek after some other
concurrent test of descent, which shall serve to check and
control his own results; and they make him court and
welcome the aid of the physicist, as well as of the archaeologist and the historian.
But, notwithstanding this, their consequence, and their
power to invalidate linguistic evidence, must not be overrated. They concern, after all, what in the grand sum of
human history are the exceptions to a general rule. It still
remains true that, upon the whole, language is a olerably




374                  MIXTURE AND                [LECO
sure iI.dication of race.  Since the dawn of time, those
among whom individuals were born, of whcm they learned
how to express their mental acts, have been usually of their
own blood. Nor do these difficulties place linguistic evidence
at any marked disadvantage as compared with physical.
They are, to no small extent, merely the effect, on the side of
language, of the grand fact which comes in constantly to
interfere with ethnological investigations of every kind:
namely, that human races do not maintain themselves in
purity, that men of different descent are all the time mingling, mixing their blood, and crossing all their race-characteristics. Fusion and replacement of languages are impossible, except when men of different native speech are brought
together as members of the same community, so that there
takes place more or less of an accompanying fusion of races
also; and then the resulting language stands at least a
chance of being a more faithful and intelligible witness of
the mixture than the resulting physical type.  That the
modern French people, for example, is made up of a congeries
of Celtic, Germanic, and Italican elements is to a certain
extent-although only the aid of recorded history enables us
fully to interpret the evidences-testified by the consider.
able body of Celtic and Germanic words mixed with the
Latin elements of the French language; but no physicist
could ever have derived the same conclusion from a study of
the French type of structure. The physicists claim that there
may be a considerable infusion of the blood of one race into
that of another, without perceptible modification of the
latter's race-type; the intruded element, if not continuously
supplied afresh, is overwhelmed and assimilated by the other
and predominant one, and disappears: that is to say, as we
may interpret the claim, its peculiarities are so diluted by
constant remixture that they become at last inappreciable.
In any such case, then, traces discoverable in the language
may point out what there is no other means of ascertaining.
It is true that, on the other hand, the spread and propaga.
tion of a language may greatly exceed that of the race to
which it originally belonged, and that the weaker numerical
element in a composite community may be the one whose




U.|             SPREAD OF LANGUAGES.             87s
dialect becomes the common tongue of all. Thus the Iatin
swept away the primitive tongues of a great part of southern
and central Europe, and has become mingled with the speech
of all civilized nations, in the Old world and the New. But
we are not rashly to infer that such things have happened
over and over again in the history of the world. We have
rather to inquire what influences make possible a career like
that of the Latin, what lends the predominant and assimilating force to a single element where many are combined.
And, as was pointed out in the fourth lecture, we shall find
that only superior culture and the possession of a literature
can give to any tongue such great extensibility. The Persians, the Mongols, have at one period and another exercised
sway over an empire not less extensive than the Roman, but
their languages were never spread far beyond the limits of
the peoples to which they properly belonged. The German
tribes, too, conquered in succession nearly every kingdom of
Europe; but it was only in order to lose themselves and
their dialects together, almost undiscoverably, in the commu.
nities and languages into which they entered. Nay, even
the wide-spread Greek colonies, with the superiority of
Greek culture to aid them, were not able to make the Greek
the tongue of many nations. There was an organizing and
assimilating force in Roman dominion which the world has
nowhere else seen equalled. And if the career of the Arabic
furnishes something like a parallel to that of the Latin, it is
due, not to the sword of Islam, but to the book, and to the
doctrine and polity which the book enjoined and the sword
imposed. Since, then, such movements must be connected
with culture and literature, they cannot but leave their
record in written history, and find there their explanation.
Nor could there occur in every region or in every period
such an inpeuring and assimilation of nationalities as is now
going on anmong us; it is only possible under the conditions
of civilized life in the nineteenth century, and the historical
conditions which have been created here. The wild and
uncultivated races of the earth generally are simply maintaining themselves by growth from generation to generation,
taking in no immigrants, sending out no emigrants. Culture




376               VALUE OF LANGUAGE                [1'ECT.
makes an astonishing difference in the circumstances and
fates of those portions of mankind over which its influence
is extended, and it would be the height of folly to transfer
to barbarous races and uncivilized periods of human history
analogies and conclusions drawn from the history of culti.
vated nations and tongues. The farther we go back into the
night of the past, the greater is the probability that the
limits of race and speech approximately coincide, and that
mixture of either is accompanied by that of the other.
And if, in certain circumstances, a race may change its
tongue, while yet retaining in its physical structure evidence
of its descent, a race may also undergo a modification of
physical type, and still offer in its speech plain indications
of its real kindred. If the talk of our coloured citizens does
not show that they were brought from Africa, neither do the
shape and bearing of the Magyars show that they came from
beyond the Ural, nor those of the Osranli Turks that their
cousins are the nomads of the inhospitable plateau of central
Asia. This is the grand drawback to the cogency of physical
evidence of race, and it fully counterbalances those which
affect the cogency of linguistic evidence, rendering the aid
of the linguist as necessary to the physical ethnologist as is
the latter's to the linguistic ethnologist. Physical science
is as yet far from having determined the kind, the rate, and
the amount of modification which external conditions, as climate and mode of life, can introduce. into a race-type; but
that, within certain undefined limits, their influence is very
powerful, is fully acknowledged. There is, to be sure, a
party among zoologists and ethnologists who insist much
upon the dogma of "fixity of type," and assert that all hu.
man races are original; but the general tendency of scien.
tific opinion is in the other direction, toward the fuller
admission of variability of species. The first naturalists are
still, and more than ever, willing to admit that all the differ.
ences now existing among human races may be the effects
of variation from a single type, and that it is at least not
necessary to resort to the hypothesis of different origins in
order to explain them. In the fact that Egyptian monu.
ments of more than three thousand years' antiquity show us




X.]              AS EVIDENCE OF RACE.               377
human varieties, and canine varieties, bearing the same cha.
racteristics as at the present day, there is nothing to disturb
this conclusion; for, on the one hand, a period of three
thousand years is coming to be regarded as not including a
very large part of man's existence on the earth; and, on the
other hand, such a fact only proves the persistency which a
type may possess when fully developed, and is of very doubtful avail to show the originality of the type. Something
analogous is to be seen in language. The speech of our rude
Germanic ancestors of the same remote period, had we authentic record of it, would beyond question be found to have
possessed already a general character clearly identifying it
with Germanic tongues still existing, and sharply sundering
it from Greek, from Slavonic, from Celtic, and all the other
Indo-European branches; yet we do not doubt that the
Germanic type of speech is a derived, a secondary one. In
settling all these controverted points, in distinguishing between original diversity and subsequent variation, in establishing a test and scale for the possibilities and the rate of
physical change, the physical ethnologist will need all the
assistance which historical investigations of every kind can
furnish him; and the greater part must come to him from
the student of language.
As the Indo-European family of language is that one of
which the unity, accompanying a not inconsiderable variety
of physical type in.the peoples who speak its dialects,
is most firmly established, and as therefore it may naturally be regarded as furnishing a prominent illustration of
the bearing of linguistic conditions on physical inquiries
into the history of man, it is perhaps worth our while to
refer to a theory respecting Indo-European speech which
has found of late a few supporters of some note and authority, and which, if accepted, would altogether deprive it
of ethnological value. The assertion, namely, is put forth,
that the apparent unity of the languages of this family is not
due to a prevailing identity of descent in the nations to
which they belong, but to the influence of some single tribe,
whose superior character, capacity, and prowess enabled it
to impose its linguistic usages on distant and diverse racea




878                INDO-EUROPEAN      [LiCm.
By some it is even assumed that the correspondences of
words and forms exhibited by the so-called Indo-European
tongues are not fundamental and pervading, but superficial,
consisting in scattered particulars only, in such designations
of objects and conceptions as one race might naturally make
over into the keeping of another, along with a knowledge of
the things designated. This assumption, however, the ex.
positions and reasonings of our fifth and seventh lectures
will have shown to be wholly erroneous: the correspondences
in question are fundamental and pervading; they constitute
an identity which can only be explained by supposing those
who founded these tongues to have been members together
of the same community. Others, who know the European
languages too well to maintain respecting their relations any
so shallow and untenable theory, yet try to persuade themselves that the analogy of the Latin will sufficiently account
for their extension over so wide a region; that, as Etruscans,
Celts, Iberians, Germans, learned to speak a tongue of
Roman origin, so the populations of Europe and Asia, of diverse lineage, learned to speak a common Indo-European
dialect; and that, accordingly, the differences of Greek,
Sanskrit, Celtic, and Slavonic are parallel to those of Italian,
French, and Spanish. But this theory, though more plausible
and defensible than the other, is hardly less untenable. It
exhibits a like neglect of another class of linguistic prin.
ciples: of those, namely, which underlie and explain the
abnormal extension of tongues like the Latin and the Arabic:
we have more than once had occasion to set them forth
above. In order to establish an analogy between the history
of Latin and that of Indo-European speech, and to make the
former account satisfactorily for the latter, it would be ne.
cessary to prove, or at least to render probable, the existence
in a very remote antiquity of those cdnditions which in
modern times have been able to give such a career to the
language of Rome. But, so far as we can at present see,
there must have been a total lack of the required conditions.
Force of character, warlike prowess, superiority of inherent
mental capacity, undeveloped or partially developed, the
Indo-Europeans may probably have possessed, as compared




x.]              LANGUAGE AND RACE.               379
with the more aboriginal races of Europe; but these are not
the forces which enable the language of a small minority to
stifle that of the masses of a people and to take its place,
if it were so, southern Europe would now be talking Ger.
manic instead of Romanic dialects. The rude beginnings of
a higher civilization, as metals, instruments, seeds, domestic
animals, arts, may possibly have been theirs; yet even these
would merely engraft upon the languages of the peoples to
whom they were made known certain words and phrases.
Only the resources of an enlightened culture, supplemented
by letters, literature, and instruction, could give to any
tongue the expansive force demanded by the theory we are
considering; and of these, it is needless to say, no traces
are to be found in Indo-European antiquity.  We have no
good ground, then, for doubting that the great extension of
the languages of our family was effected by the usual causes
which act among uncultivated tongues: that is to say,
mainly by the growth, spread, and emigration of a single
race; by its occupancy of ever new territory, accompanied
with the partial destruction and partial expulsion, sometimes
also with the partial incorporation and absorption, of the
former inhabitants; the element of population which inherited the speech and institutions of the original IndoEuropean tribe being ever the predominant one in each new
community that was formed. How many fragments of other
races may have been worked in during the course of the
family's migrations-how far the purity of blood of one or
another of its branches or sub-branches may have been thus
affected by successive partial dilutions, so that some of their
present peculiarities of type are attributable to the mixture —
is, of course, a legitimate matter for inquiry, and one upon
which we may even look for information from their lan.
guages, when these shall have been more narrowly examined.
But upon the whole, in the light of our present knowledge,
we are justified in regarding the boundaries of Indo-European
speech as approximately coinciding with those of a race; the
tie of language represents a tie of blood.
If the limitations and imperfections of the two kinds of
evidence are thus in certain respects somewhat evenly bal.




880               VALUE OF LANGUAGE               [LEaT,
anced, there are others in which linguistic evidence has a
decidedly superior practical value and availability.  The
differences of language are upon a scale almost infinitely
greater than those of physical structure. They are equal in
their range and variety to those found in the whole animal
kingdom, from the lowest organisms to the highest, instead
of being confined within the limits of the possible variation
of a single species. Hence they can be much more easily
and accurately apprehended, judged, and described. Lin.
guistic facts admit of being readily collected, laid down with
authentic fidelity, and compared coolly, with little risk of
error from subjective misapprehension. They are accessible
to a much greater number of observers and investigators.
Exceptional capacity, special opportunity, and a very long
period of training, are needed to make a reliable and author.
itative describer of race-characteristics. It is true that to
distinguish from one another very diverse types, like the
European and African, is a task which presents no difficulty.
But, though we should all, in nine cases out of ten, recog.
nize a native of Ireland at sight, who among us could trust
himself to make a faithful and telling description of the ideal
Irishman, such that, by its aid, a person not already by long
experience made familiar with the type would recognize it
when met with?   The peculiarities of the native Irish
dialect, however, are capable of being made unmistakably
plain to even the dullest apprehension. A few pages or
phrases, often even a few words, brought back by a traveller
or sojourner in distant lands from some people with which
he has made acquaintance, are likely to be worth vastly more
for fixing their place in the human family than the most
elaborate account he can give of their physical character.
istics. Photography, with its utter truth to nature, can
now be brought in as a most valuable aid to physical de.
scriptions, yet cannot wholly remove the difficulty, giving
such abundant illustration as shall enable us to analyze and
separate that which is national and typical from that which
is individual and accidental.  This last, indeed, is one of the
marked difficulties in physical investigations.  Two persons
may readily be culled from two diverse races who shall be




X.]               AS EVIDENCE OF RACE.              381
less unlike than two others that may be chosen from  the
same race.  While, on the contrary, words and phrases
taken down from the lips of an individual, or written or en.
graved by one hand, can be no private possession; they must
belong to a whole community.
The superior capacity of the remains of language to cast
light upon the affinities of races needs only to be illustrated
by an instance or two.  What could have impregnably
established the ethnological position of the ancient Persians
like the decipherment of the inscriptions of Darius and his
successors, which show that they spoke a dialect so nearly
akin with those of Bactria and India that it can be read by
the latter's aid?  What could exhibit the intimate mixture
of races and cultures in the valley of the Euphrates and
Tigris, and the presence there of an important element which
was neither Indo-European nor Semitic, except the trilingual
inscriptions of the Mesopotamian monuments?  What a
pregnant fact in African ethnology will be, if fully and irrefragably proved, the relationship of the Hottentot dialects
with the ancient Egyptian! What but the preserved fragments of their speech could have taught us that the Etruscans had no kindred with any other of the known races
inhabiting Europe? And when would physical science ever
have made the discovery that the same thing is true of the
Basques, whom yet it has all the opportunity which it could
desire to study? But the most important of the advantages
belonging to linguistic science, in its relation to ethnology,
is that to which allusion was made at the very outset of our
discussions: namely, that language tells so much more respecting races than lies within the reach or scope of the
physicist. In every part and particle, it is instinct with
history. It is a picture of the internal life of the community
to which it belongs; in it their capacities are exhibited, their
characters expressed; it reflects their outward circumstances, records their experiences, indicates the grade of
knowledge they have attained, exhibits their manners and
institutions. Being itself an institution, shaped by their
consenting though only half-conscious action, it is an im.
portant test of national endowment and disposition, like




882       LINGUISTIC AND PHYSICAL ETHNOLOGY.    [LECGt
political constitution, like jural usage, like national art.
Even where it fails to show strict ethnic descent, it shows
race-history of another sort-the history of the influence
which, by dint of superior character and culture, certain
races have exercised over others. The spread of the Latin
has swept away and obliterated some of the ancient land.
marks of race, but it has done so by substituting another
unity for that of descent; its present ubiquity illustrates
the unparalleled importance of Rome in the history of humanity.
For these reasons, and such as these, the part which lan.
guage has to perform in constructing the unwritten history
of the human race must be the larger and more importantThere are points which physical science alone can reach, or
upon which her authority is superior: but in laying out and
filling up the general scheme, and especially in converting
what would else be a barren classification into something
like a true history, the work must chiefly be done by lin.
guistic science.
The considerations we have been reviewing will, it is
hoped, guide us to a correct apprehension of the relations of
these two branches of ethnological study. Discord between
them, question as to respective rank, there is or should be
none. Both are legitimate and necessary methods of approaching the solution of the same intricate and difficult
question, the origin and history of man on the earth-a
question of which we are only now beginning to understand
the intricacy and difficulty, and which we are likely always to
fall short of answering to our satisfaction. There was a
time, not many years since, when the structure and history
of the earth-crust were universally regarded as a simple
matter, the direct result of a few fiats, succeeding one an.
other within the space of six days and nights: now, even
the school-boy knows that in the brief story of the Genesis
are epitomized the changes and developments of countless
ages, and that geology may spend centuries in tracing them
out and describing them in detail, without arriving at the
end of her task.  In like manner has it been supposed that
the first introduction of man into the midst of the prepared




L]        QUESTION OF UNITY OF HUMAN RACE.         888
creation was distant but six or seven thousand years from
our day, and we have hoped to be able to read the record
of so brief a career, even back to its beginning; but science
is accumulating at present so rapidly, and from so many
quarters, proofs that the time must be greatly lengthened
out, and even perhaps many times multiplied, that this new
mod'ficalion of a prevailing view seems likely soon to win
as general an acceptance as the other has already done. And
the different historical sciences are seeing more and moro
clearly their weakness in the presence of so obscure a pro.
blem, and confessing their inability to give categorical an.
swers to many of the questions it involves.
Such a confession on the part of linguistic science,
with reference to one point of the most fundamental interest
and importance in human history, it next devolves upon us
to make.
A second question, namely, which cannot but press itself
upon our attention, in connection with the survey we have
taken of the grand divisions of human speech, is this: What is
the scope and bearing of the division into families? Does
it separate the human race into so many different branches,
which must have been independent from the very beginning?
Does linguistic science both fail to find any bond of connection between the families and see that no such bond exists P
Or, in short, what has the study of language to say respe.et.
ing the unity of the human race?
This is an inquiry to which, as I believe, the truths we
have established respecting the character and history of language will enable us readily to find a reply. But that reply
will be only a negative one. Linguistic science is not now,
and cannot hope ever to be, in condition to give an authoritative opinion respecting the unity or variety of our species.
This is not an acknowledgment which any student of language likes to make; it may seem to savour, too, of precipitation on the part of him who makes it; of a lack of
faith in the future of his science-a science which, although
it has already accomplished so much, has yet confessedly
only begun its career. That those linguistic scholars-for
such there are-are over-hasty and over-credulous who sup



884         LANGUAGE INCAPABLE OF PROVING       [LEOT.
pose themselves to have proved already, by the evidence of
language, that all mankind are akin by blood as well as by
nature, will be conceded by many who are yet unwilling
to give up all hope of seeing the proof one day satisfactorily
made out. Let us, then, enter into a brief examination of
the p)int, and a consideration of the grounds upon which is
founded the view we have taken.
To show, in the first place, that linguistic science can
never claim to prove the ultimate variety of human races
will be no long or difficult task.  That science, as we have
seen, regards language as something which has grown up, in
the manner of an institution, from weak and scanty beginnings; it is a development out of germs; it started with
simple roots, brief in form and of indeterminate meaning,
by the combination of which words came later into being.
And the existing differences of speech among men are, at
least to a very considerable extent, the result, not of original
diversity, but of discordant growth.  Now we cannot presume to set any limits to the extent to which languages once
the same may have grown apart from one another. It matters not what opinion we may hold respecting the origin of
the first germs of speech: if we suppose them to have beeD
miraculously created and placed in the mouths of the first
ancestors of men, their present differences would not justify
us in believing that different sets must have been imparted
to, different pairs, or groups, of ancestors; for the same in:
fluences which have so obscured the common descent of
English, Welsh, and Hindustani, for example, may, by an
action more prolonged or more intense, have transformed
germs originally common beyond even the faintest possibility
of recognition. And if, on the other hand, we regard them
as originated by the same agency which has brought about
their later combinations and mutations, by men, namely,
using legitimately and naturally the faculties with which
they have been endowed, under the guidance of the instincts
and impulses implanted.in them-and no linguist, certainly,
as Such, has any right to deny at least the possibility of this
origin of language-then the case is yet clearer. For we
cannot venture to say how long a time the formation of




X.o]           DIVERSITY OF HUMAN RACES.            385
roots may have demanded, or during what period universal
language may have remained nearly stationary in this its
inceptive stage. It is entirely conceivable that the earliest
human race, being one, should have parted into disjoined
and thenceforth disconnected tribes before the formation of
any language so far developed and of so fixed forms as to be
able to leave traceable fragments in the later dialects of the
sundered portions. These possibilities preclude all dogmatic
assertion of the variety of human species on the part of the
linguist. Among all the known forms of speech, present
and past, there are no discordances which are not, to his apprehension, fully reconcilable with the hypothesis of unity
of race, allowing the truth of that view of the nature and
history of speech which is forced upon him by his researches
into its structure. It is certain that no one, upon the
ground of linguistic investigations alone, will ever be able to
bear witness against the descent of all mankind from a single
pair.
That no one, upon the same grounds, can ever bear witness in favour of such descent is, as it appears to me, equally
demonstrable, although not by so simple and direct an argu.
ment, and although the opinions of eminent authorities are
at variance upon the point, and may fairly continue to be
so for some time to come, until more of the fundamental
facts and principles in linguistic science shall have been
firmly established and universally accepted than is the case
at present.  We have here no theoretical impossibility to
rely upon; no direct argument from necessary conditions,
cutting off all controversy.  As the linguist is compelled to
allow that a unique race may have parted into branches before the development of abiding germs of speech, so he must
also admit the possibility that the race may have clung together so long, or the development of its speech have been
so rapid, that, even prior to its separation, a common dialect
had been elaborated, the traces of which no lapse of time,
with all its accompanying changes, could entirely obliterate.
Nay, he was bound to keep that possibility distinctly before
his mind in all his researches, to cherish a hope of making
language prove community of blood in all members of the
25




886                UNCERTAINTIES OF               [LEO,.
human family, until conscientious study should show the
hope to be groundless. The question was one of fact, of
what existing and accessible testimony was competent to
prove; it was to be settled only by investigation. But I
claim that investigation, limited as its range and penetration
have hitherto confessedly been, has already put us in condition to declare the evidence incompetent, and the thesis
incapable of satisfactory proof.
In order to make clear the justice of this claim, it will be
necessary to recapitulate some of the results we have won in
our previous discussions.
The processes of change which are constantly at work in
language, altering both the form and the meaning of its con.
stituent words, were set forth and illustrated with sufficient
fulness in our early lectures. The degree of alteration which
they may effect, and the variety of their results, are practically
unlimited. As they can bring utter apparent diversity out
of original identity, so they can impress an apparent simi.
larity upon original diversity. Hence the difficulties which
beset etymological science, its abuse by the unlearned and
incautious, the occasional seeming arbitrariness and violence
of its procedures, even in skilled and scientific hands.
Voltaire's witty saying, that in etymologizing the vowels are
of no account at all, and the consonants of very little-to
which he might have added, that the meaning is equally a
matter of indifference-was true enough as regarded the
science of his day; but we must also confess that in a certain
way it possesses an applicability to that of our own times.
Even modern etymology acknowledges that two words can
hardly be so different, in form or in meaning, or in both form
and meaning, that there is not a possibility of their being
proved descendants of the same word: any sound, any shade
of idea, may pass by successive changes into any other. The
difference between the old hap-hazard style of etymologizing
and the modern scientific method lies in this: that the latter,
while allowing everything to be theoretically possible, ac.
cepts nothing as actual which is not proved such by sufficient
evidence; it brings to bear upon each individual case a wide
circle of related facts; it imposes upon the student the neo




X.]            ETYMOLOGICAL RESEARCHES.             387
cessity of extended comparison and cautious deduction; it
makes him careful to inform himself as thoroughly as circumstances allow respecting the history of every word he deals
with.
Two opposing possibilities, therefore, interfere with the
directness of the etymologist's researches, and cast doubt on
his conclusions.  On the one hand, forms apparently unconnected may turn out to be transformations of the same
original: since, for example, the French eveque and the
English bishop, words which have no common phonetic constituent, are yet both descended, within no very long time,
from the Greek episkopos;- since our alms comes from the
Greek eleemosunj; since our sister and the Persian xahar
are the same word; since the Latin filius has become in
Spanish hijo; and so on. On the other hand, what is of not
less importance in its bearing upon the point we are considering, he must be equally mindful that an apparent coincidence between two words which he is comparing may be
accidental and superficial only, covering radical diversity.
How easy it is for words of different origin to arrive at a
final identity of form, as the result of their phonetic changes,
is evident enough from the numerous homonyms in our own
language, to which we have more than once had occasion to
refer.  Thus, sound in "safe and sound" comes from one
Germanic word, and sound in " Long Island Sound " from
another; while sound,' noise,' is from the Latin sonus.  So
we have a page of a book from the Latin pagina, and a page
in waiting from the Greek paidion,' a little boy;' wo have
cleave,'to stick together,' from the Anglo-Saxon clif an, and
cleave,'to part asunder,' from the Anglo-Saxon cluzfan;
and numberless other instances of the same kind. Fortuitous
coincidences of sound like these, in words of wholly independ.
ent derivation, are not less liable to occur between the
vocables of different languages than between those of the
same language; and they do so occur. It is, further, by no
m ans infrequently the case that, along with a coincidence,
o? a near correspondence, or a remoter analogy, of sound,
there is also an analogy, or correspondence, or coincidence,
of meaning-one so nearly resembling that which would be
25 *




388           CHANCE CORRESPONDENCES IN           [LIUCT
the effect cf a genetic relationship between the two words
compared as to give us an impression that they must be re.
lated, when in fact they are not. Resemblances of this sort,
of every degree of closeness, do actually appear in abundance
among languages related and unrelated, demonstrably as the
result of accident alone, being mistaken for signs of genetic
connection only by incompetent or heedless inquirers.
Thus, an enterprising etymologist, turning over the pages of
his Hebrew lexicon, discovers that the Hebrew root kophar
means'cover;' and he is at once struck with this plain
proof of the original identity of Hebrew  and English:
whereas, if he only looks a little into the history of the
English word, he finds that it comes, through the Old French
covrir, from the Latin coiperire, made up of con and operire;
which latter is gotten, by two or three steps of derivation
and composition, from  a root par,'pass:' and this puts
upon him the necessity, either of giving up his fancied
identification, or of making out some degree of probability
that the Hebrew word descended, through a like succession
of steps, from a like original.  Another word-genealogist
finds that lars in ancient Etruscan meant'a chief, a head
man,' and he parades it as an evidence that the Etruscan
was, after all, an Indo-European language: for is not lars
clearly the same with the Scottish word laird, our lord?
He is simply regardless of the fact that laird and lord are the
altered modern representatives of the Anglo-Saxon hlaford,
with which lars palpably has about as little to do as with
brigadier-general or deputy-sheriff.  A  Polynesian scholar,
intent on proving that South-Sea islanders and Europeans
are tribes of the same lineage, points out the almost exact
coincidence of the Polynesian mata and the modern Greek
mati, both signifying'eye:' which is just as sensible as if
ho were to compare a (hypothetical) Polynesian busa,'a
fuc r-wheeled vehicle,' with our'bus (from  omnnibus): for
miati in Greek is abbreviated from ommation, diminutive of
ommna,'eye,' and has lost its originally significant part, the
syllable on, representing the root op,'see.'
These are only a few samples of false etymologies, selected
from among the thousands and tens of thousands with whicb




x.,]            TUNRELATED LANGUAGES.                389
all linguistic literature, ancient and modern, teems; which
have been drawn out, with infinite expenditure of ill-directed
ingenuity and misapplied labour, from  the vocabularies of
tongues of every age and every clime. There is not one
among them which has not a much higher primafacie plausibility than the identity of eveque and bishop, or of Jilius and
hijo, or than numberless others of the true etymologies
established upon sufficient evidence, by the scientific student
of languages: but their value is in seeming only; they are
baseless and worthless, mere exemplifications of the effects
wrought by the process we are considering-the process
which brings out accidental analogies, phonetic and significant, between words historically unrelated.  The greater
portion of false etymologies are to be ascribed directly to its
influence; and their number is a sufficient and striking proof
of the wide extent of its action, the frequency and variety of
the results it produces.
The fact is well established, that there are no two languages. upon the face of the earth, of however discordant
origin, between which may not be brought to light by diligent search a goodly number of these false analogies of both
form and meaning, seeming indications of relationship, which
a little historical knowledge, when it is to be had, at once
shows to be delusive, and which have no title to be regarded
as otherwise, even if we have not the means of proving their
falsity.  It is only necessary to cast out of sight the general
probabilities against a genetic connection of the languages
we are comparing (such as their place and period, their
nearer connecticn- -ld the pervading discordance of their
structure and  nat ial), and then to assume between theml
phonetic transitions not more violent than are actually
proved to be exhibited by other tongues-and we may find
a goodly portion of thie vocabulary of each hidden in that of
the other.  Dean Swift has ridiculed the folly which amuses
itself with such comparisons and etymologies, in a wellknown caricature, wherein he derives the names of ancient
Greekl worthies from  honest modern English elements, explaining Achilles as'a kill. ease,' Hector as'hackel-tore,'
Ale.xander the Great as'all eggs under the grate!' and sc




890           CHANCE CORRESPONDENCES IN            ELICT.
on. This is very absurd; and yet, save that ihe absurdity of
it is made more palpable to us by being put in terms of our
own language and another with which we are somewhat
familiar, it is hardly worse than what has been done, and is
done, in all soberness, by men claiming the name of linguistic
scholars. It is even now possible for such a man to take an
African vocabulary, and sit deliberately down to see what
words of the various other languages known to him he can
explain out of it, producing a batch of correspondences like
these: abetele,' a begging beforehand' (which h himself de.
fines as composed of a, formative prefix, be,'beg,' and tele,' previously'), and German betteln,'beg' (from the simplei
root bit, bet, our bid); idaro,'that which becomes collected
into a mass,' and English dross; basile,' landlord' (ba for
oba,'master,' si,'of,' and ile,'land'), and Greek basileus,'king:' and the comparer, who is specially versed in the
mathematical doctrine of chances, gravely informs us that
the chances against the merely accidental character of the
last coincidence are " at least a hundred million to one."
More than one unsound linguist has misled himself and
others by calculating, in the strictest accordance with mathe.
matical rules, how many thousand or million of chances to
one there are against the same word meaning the same
thing in two different and unconnected languages. The
calculation is futile, and its result a fallacy. The relations
of language are not to be so simply reduced to precise
mathematical expression.  If words were wholly independent entities, instead of belonging to families of connected
derivatives; if they were of such precise constitution and
application as so many chemical formulas; if the things they
designated were as distinct and separate individualities as
are fixed stars, or mineral species, or geographical localitiesthen the calculations of chances would be in place respecting
them. But none of these things are true. The evidences
on which linguistic science relies to prove genetical connection are not identities of form combined with identities of
meaning: forms may differ as much as hijo and filius;
meanings may differ as much as German bekommen,'get,'
and English become,' come to be,' and become,'suit;' form




X.J             UNRELATED LANGUAGES.               391
and meaning may differ together to any extent, and yet the
words may be one and the same, and good evidences of re.
lationship between the languages to which they respectively
belong. Not literal agreement, but such resemblances,
nearer or more distant, clearer or more obscure, as are proved
by supporting facts to have their ground in original identity,
make satisfactory evidence of common descent in language.
Here, then, is the practical difficulty in the way of him
who would prove all human speech a unit.  On the one
hand, those fortuitous coincidences and analogies which any
given language may present with any other with which it is
compared form a not inconsiderable body, an appreciable
percentage of its general stock of words.  On the other
hand, the historical coincidences and analogies traceable between two languages of common descent are capable of sinking to as low, or even to a lower, percentage of its vocabulary. That is to say, there may be two related tongues, the
genuine signs of whose relationship shall be lfss numerous
and conspicuous than the apparent but delusive signs of
relationship of two others which derive themselves from independent origins. The former have been so long separated
from one another, their changes in the mean time have been
so pervading, that their inherited points of resemblance are
reduced in number and obscured in character, until they are
no longer sufficient to create a reasonable presumption in
favour of their own historical reality; they are undistinguishable from the possible results of chance. As we saw
in the sixth lecture (p. 243), evidences of genetic connection
are cumulative in their character; no single item of correspondence is worth anything until there are found kindred
facts to support it; and its force is strengthened with every
new accession. And, in the comparison of languages, the
point is actually reached where it becomes impossible to tell
wrhether the few coincidences which we discover are the
genuine traces of a community of linguistic tradition, or only
accidental, and evidence of nothing. When we come to
holding together the forms of speech belonging to the diverse
families, linguistic testimony fails us: it no longer has force
to prove anything to our satisfaction.




892             FUTILITY OF COMPARISONS           [LECT.
To demonstrate that this is so, we do not need to enter
into a detailed examination of two tongues claimed to be
unrelated, and show that their correspondences fall incontest.
ably short of the amount required to prove relationship: we
may take a briefer and directer argument.  We have seen
that the established linguistic families are made up of those
dialects which exhibit traceable signs of a common historic
development; which have evidently grown together out of
the radical stage (unless, as in the case of the monosyllabic
tongues, they have together remained stationary in that
stage); which possess, at least in part, the same grammatical
structure. There are some linguistic scholars who cherish
the sanguine hope that trustworthy indications of this kind
of correspondence may yet be pointed out between some two
or three of the great families; but no one whose opinion is
of one straw's weight thinks of such a thing with reference
to them all. So discordant is the whole growth of many of
the types of speech that we can find no affinities among them
short of their ultimate beginnings: if all human speech is to
be proved of one origin, it can only be by means of an identification of roots. To give the investigation this form, how.
ever, is virtually to abandon it as hopeless. The difficulties
in the way of a fruitful comparison of roots are altogether
overwhelming. To trace out the roots of any given family,
in their ultimate form and primitive signification, is a task
whose gravity the profoundest investigators of language are
best able to appreciate.  Notwithstanding the variety of the
present living dialects of the Indo-European family, and the
noteworthy preservation of original forms on the part of
some among them, their comparison would be far enough
from furnishing us the radical elements of Indo-European
speech. Even the aid of the ancient tongues but partially
removes the difficulty; and, but for the remarkable and
exceptional character of the Sanskrit, our knowledge of that
stage in the history of our language out of which its present
grammatical structure was a development would be but
scanty and doubtful; while we have been compelled to
confess (in the seventh lecture) that we know not how far
even so primitive a stage may lie from the absolute beginning.




X.]               OF ULTIMATE ROOTS.                393
The corresponding condition of Semitic speech, its foundation
of triliteral roots, is to no small extent restorable; but we
have seen that these roots are themselves the products of a
strange and highly perplexing development, beneath which
their actual origin is not yet discernible. Among the different great branches of the Scythian family, the recognizable
radical coincidences are hardly sufficient, if they are sufficient,
to establish their unity as proceeding from the same stock:
a reliable basis for comparison with other families is certainly
not furnished us here.  Nor was the Scythian the only
family in establishing whose unity we were obliged to add
the evidence of morphological structure to that of material
correspondences: there were at least two, the monosyllabic
in south-eastern Asia and the American, which were founded
almost solely on accordance of type. And the former of
them is a striking illustration of the power of phonetic
corruption to alter and disguise the bare roots of language,
without help from composition and fusion of elements. If
we cannot find material correspondences enough between the
pure radicals of Chinese, Siamese, and Burmese to prove these
three tongues akin, but must call in, to aid the conclusion,
their common characteristic of monosyllabism, what hope can
we possibly entertain of proving either of them akin with
Mongolian or Polynesian, for example, with which they have
no morphological affinity P  Who will be so sanguine as to
expect to discover, amid the blind confusion of the American
languages, where there are scores of groups which seem to be
totally diverse in constituent material, the radical elements
which have lain at the basis of their common development?
Apparent resemblances among apparent roots of the different
families are, indeed, to be found: but they are wholly worth.
less as evidences of historical connection.  To the general
presumption of their accidental nature is to be farther added
the virtual certainty that the elements in which they appear
are not ultimate roots at all, but the products of recent
growth.  There is nothing, it may be remarked, in the
character of ultimate roots which should exempt them from
the common liability to exhibit fortuitous coincidences, but
rather the contrary. The system of sounds employed in the




394          FUTILITY OF ROOT-COMPARISONS
rudimentary stage of linguistic growth was comparatively
scanty, the circle of ideas represented by the roots was
narrow and limited, the application of each root more vague
and indeterminate; hence accidental analogies of form and
meaning might even more reasonably be looked for between
the radical elements of unconnected families than between
their later developed words.
For these reasons it is that the comparison of rcots is not
likely to lead to any satisfactory results even in the most
favourable cases, and cannot possibly be made fruitful of
valuable and trustworthy conclusions through the whole
body of human language. There are, it is true, not a few
philologists-and among them some authorities deserving of
the highest respect-who hold that correspondences enough
have been found between Indo-European and Semitic roots to
prove the ultimate connection of those two families of language: but the number is yet greater of those who regard
the asserted proof as altogether nugatory. The attempt has
been made above (in the eighth lecture) to show that the
governing presumption in the case is not a purely linguistic
one, but rather a historical; and it is one which is quite as
likely to be weakened as to be strengthened by the results
of future researches. But, as regards the point now under
discussion, the admission or rejection of a genetic tie between
these two particular families, or even between these and the
Scythian and Chinese, would make no manner of difference:
there would still remain the impossibility of extending a like
tie, by linguistic means, to the other great families.
Our general conclusion, then, which may be looked upo 
as incontrovertibly established, is this: if the tribes of men
are of different parentage, their languages could not be
expected to be more unlike than they in fact are; while, on
the other hand, if all mankind are of one blood, their tongues
need not be more alike than we actually find them to be.
The evidence of language can never guide us to any positive
conclusion respecting the specific unity or di~ersity cf human
races.




LECTURE XI.
Origin of language. Conditions of the problem.  In what sense lan.
guage is of divine origin. Desire of communication the'mmediate
impulse to its production.  Language and thought not identical.
Thought possible without language. Difference of mental action in
man and lower animals. Language the result and means of analytic
thought, the aid of higher thought. The voice as instrument of ex.
pression. Acts and qualities the first things named. The " bow-wow,"
"pooh-pooh," and "ding-dong" theories.  Onomatopceia the true
source of first utterances. Its various modes and limitations. Its
traces mainly obliterated. Remaining obscurities of the problem.
IN the last lecture, we took up and considered certain
matters which seemed naturally to present themselves to our
attention in connection with our survey of the divisions and
characteristics of human speech. We first examined the
various systems of classification of languages, according to
morphological form or to general rank, weighing briefly the
value of the distinctions upon which they are founded; and
we arrived at the conclusion that no other mode of classifica.
tion has anything like the same worth with the genetical, or
that which groups dialects together by their historical relationship. We then passed on to the subject of the general
relations between linguistic science and ethnology, the
history of human races. We saw that between the study of
language and that of physical characteristics, as tests of race,
there can be no discordance and jealousy, but only an honourable emulation and mutual helpfulness; that each, feeling its
own limitations and imperfections, needs and seeks the assist.
mnce of the other; claiming, also, all the aid which recorded




396              DIFFICULTIES OF THE             [LEOa.
history can furnish, and all that can be derived from archt.
ology, to correct and confirm its conclusions.  So intricate
and difficult of solution is the problem set before us in the
beginnings of history, the origin and ultimate connections of
races, that, as we have good reason to fear, our utmost efforts,
our most cunning combinations of all attainable evidence,
from whatever sources derived, will never bring us to a distinct and confident answer. For a little way, history and
tradition are our chief guides; then, the study of language
conducts us somewhat farther, although with feebler and
more uncertain steps; while physical science claims to give
us a few glimpses, we know not yet of what reach or sweep,
into a still remoter past. And as, in investigations of this
trying character, it is of no small consequence to know what
are the limits and defects of the evidence with which we are
dealing, that we may not waste our strength, and prepare
for ourselves bitter disappointment, by searching for conclusions where none can possibly be found, we entered upon an
inquiry as to whether it was within the province of linguistic
science to determine the vexed question of the unity or
multiplicity of the human race; and we found that this was
not the case. The beginnings of language, in at least a part
of the recognized families of languages, are too much covered
up and hidden under the products of later growth for our eyes
ever to distinguish them with any even tolerable approach to
certainty; and the correspondences which have been already,
or may be hereafter, pointed out between the linguistic
material of different languages, now reckoned as belonging to
diverse families, may be so plausibly explained as the effects
of chance that they can never be accepted as the sure result
and sign of -a common linguistic tradition. Our conclusion
here was, that human languages might well have become as
different as we now find them to be, even though all of them
descended from the rudimentary and undeveloped dialect of
some single original family or tribe; while, on the other hand,
considering the acknowledged unity in diversity of human
nature, we should not expect to find languages any more un.
like than they actually are, if there had been a separate Adam
and Eve for each one of a dozen or more human races.




XI.]            ETHNOLOGICAL PROBLEM.               397
Whether physical science will ever reach a more definite
decision of the same question is at present, at least, very
doubtful: its tendency seems now to be toward establishing
such a capacity of mutation in species as would explain all
the tribes of men as possible varieties of one type; without,
of course, at the same time disproving the possibility of their
independent origin. It is likely enough that we may, at
some time, reach a point where we shall be able to say that,
upon the whole, the weight of probability is upon this side,
or upon that: anything more certain and categorical we can
hardly venture to look for.  Happily, the question is one of
little practical consequence: the brotherhood of men, the
obligation of mutual justice and mutual kindness, rests upon
the possession of a common nature and a common destiny,
not upon the tie of fleshly relationship. Those who would
justify their oppression of a whole race of their fellow-beings
by an alleged proof of its descent from other ancestors
than their own are not less perverse-more perverse they
could not well be-than those who would sanctify it as the
execution of a curse pronounced by a drunken patriarch upon
a portion of his own offspring. It is as shameful to attempt
to press science as religion into the service of organized
injustice.
But if linguistic science must thus observe a modest
silence with regard to the origin of the human race, what has
it to say respecting the )rigin of language itself? This is
an inquiry to which wee have made a near approach at one
and another point in our discussions hitherto, but which we
have carefully refrained from grappling with seriously. It
has not lain in the direct line of our investigations. We
have been engaged in analyzing and examining the recorded
facts of language, in order to find what answer we could to
our leading question, " why we speak as we do? " and we
have been brought at last to the recognition of certain elements called roots, which we clearly see to have been the
germs whence the whole development of speech has proceeded,
but which we do not dare affirm to have been absolutely the
first utterances of speaking men.  These, then, are the
historical beginnings of speech; and historical research will




398              ORIGIN OP LANGUAGE;             [LECO.
take us no farther. The question as to what were the actual
first utterances, and how they were produced, must be decided,
if at all, in another way-by general considerations and anal.
ogies, by inferences from the facts of human nature and the
facts of language, taken together, and from their relations to
one another. It falls within the province rather of linguistic philosophy, as a branch of anthropology, than of the
historical science of language. But the subject is one of
such interest, and for the proper discussion of which our
historical investigations so directly prepare the way, that we
cannot refrain from taking it up. It may be that we shall
find no sharp-cut and dogmatic answer to our inquiries re.
specting it, but we may hope at least so to narrow down the
field of uncertainty and conjecture as to leave the problem
virtually solved.
We may fairly claim, in the first place, that the subject has
been very greatly simplified, stripped of no small part of its
difficulty and mystery, by what has already been proved as
to the history of speech. Did we find no traces of a primi.
tive condition of language different from its later manifestations, did it appear to us as from the very beginning a completely developed apparatus, of complicated structure, with
distinct signs for objects, qualities, activities, and abstract
conceptions, with its mechanism for the due expression of
relations, and with a rich vocabulary-then might we well
shrink back in despair from the attempt to explain its origin,
and confess that only a miracle could have produced it, that
only a superhuman agency could have placed it in human
possession. But we have seen that the final perfection of
the noblest languages has been the result of a slow and
gradual development, under the impulse of tendencies, and
through the instrumentality of processes, which are even yet
active in every living tongue; that all this wealth has grown
by long accumulation out of an original poverty; and that
the actual germs of language were a scanty list of formless
roots, representing a few of the most obvious sensible acts
and phenomena appearing in ourselves, our fellow-creatures,
and the nature by which we are surrounded. We have now
left us only the comparatively easy task of satisfying our,




xzI.]                S IT DI[VINE?               899
selves how men should have come into possession of these
humble rudiments of speech.
And our attention must evidently first be directed to the
inquiry whether those same inventive and shaping powers of
man which have proved themselves capable of creating out of
monosyllabic barrenness the rich abundance of inflective
speech were not also equal to the task of producing the first
poor hoard of vocables. There are those who insist much on
what they are pleased to term the divine origin of language;
who think it in some way derogatory to the honour of the
Creator to deny that he devised roots and words, and, by
some miraculous and exceptional agency, put them readymade into the mouths of the first human beings. Of such we
would ask whether, after all, language can be in this sense
Dnly a divine gift to man; whether the hand of the Creator
is any the less clearly to be seen, and need be any the less
devoutly acknowledged, in its production, if we regard man
himself as having been created with the necessary impulses
and the necessary capacities for forming language, and then
as having possessed himself of it through their natural and
conscious workings.  Language, articulate speech, is a
universal and exclusive characteristic of man: no tribe of
human kind, however low, ignorant, and brutish, fails to
speak; no race of the lower animals, however highly endowed,
is able to speak: clearly, it was just as much a part of the
Creator's plan that we should talk as that we should breathe,
should walk, should eat and drink. The only question is,
whether we began to talk in the same manner as we began to
breathe, as our blood began to circulate, by a process in
which our own will had no part; or, as we move, eat, clothe
and shelter ourselves, by the conscious exertion of our
natural powers, by using our divinely-given faculties for the
satisfaction of our divinely-implanted necessities.
That the latter supposition is fully sufficient to account
for our possession of speech cannot with any show of reason
be denied. Throughout its whole traceable history, language
has been ir the hands of those who have spoken it, for mani.
fold modification, for enrichment, for adaptation to the vary,
ing ends of a varying knowledge and experience; nineteea




400              ORIGII OF LANGUAGE;           [LEMO
twentieths, at the least, of the speech we speak is demonstra.
bly in this sense our own work: why should the remaining
twentieth be thought otherwise? It is but a childish philo.
sophy which can see no other way to make out a divine
agency in human language than by regarding that agency as
specially and miraculously efficient in the first stage of form.
ation of language. We may fairly compare it with the
wisdom of the little girl who, on being asked who made her,
replied: " God made me a little baby so high " (dropping her
hand to within a foot of the floor) " and I grew the rest."
The power which originates is not to be separated from that
which maintains and develops: both are one, one in their
essential nature, one in their general mode of action. We
might as well claim that the letters of the alphabet, that the
simple digits, must have been miraculously revealed, for ele.
ments out of which men should proceed to develop systems
of writing and of mathematical notation, as that the rudiments of spoken speech, the primitive signs of mental conceptions, must have had such an origin.
In short, our recognition of language as an institution, as
an instrumentality, as no integral system of natural and
necessary representatives of thought, inseparable from
thought or spontaneously generated by the mind,, but, on
the contrary, a body of conventional signs, deriving their
value from the mutual understanding of one man with
another; and, farther, our recognition of the history of this
*institution as being not a mere succession of changes
wrought upon something which still remains the same in
essential character, but a real development, effected by
human forces, whose operations we can trace and understand
-these take away the whole ground on which the doctrine
of the divine origin of language, as formerly held, reposed.
The origin of language is divine, in the same sense in which
man's nature, with all its capacities and acquirements, physi.
cal and moral, is a divine creation; it is human, in that it is
brought about through that nature, by human instrument.
ality.
It is hardly necessary to make any farther reference to an
objection, already once alluded to, which some minads may




xx.]            IN W HAT SENSE DIVINE.              401
he tempted to raise against our whole construction of the
course of linguistic history out of the evidences of composition, phonetic corruption, transfer of meaning, and the other
processes of linguistic growth, which we find in all the
material of human speech. The inquiry, namely, has some.
times been raised, whether it was not perfectly possible for
the Creator to frame and communicate to mortals a primitive
language filled with such apparent signs of previous development, as well as one which should have the aspect of a new
creation. Of course, must be our reply; nothing is theoretically impossible to Omnipotence: but to suppose that it has
pleased God to work thus is to make the most violent and
inadmissible of assumptions, one which imputes to him a
wholly degrading readiness to trifle with, even to deliberately
mislead and deceive, the reason which he has implanted in
his creatures. It is precisely of a piece with the suggestion
once currently thrown out, when the revelations of geology
were first beginning to be brought to light, that fossils and
stratifications and such like facts proved nothing; since God,
when he made the rocks, could just as well have made them
in this form and with these contents as otherwise.  With
men who can seriously argue upon such assumptions it is
simply impossible to discuss a historical question: all the
influences of historical science are thrown away upon them;
they are capable of believing that a tree which they have
not themselves seen spring up from the seed was created
whole in the state in which they find it, without gradual
growth; or even that a house, a watch, a picture, were produced just as they are, by the immediate action of almighty
power.
We may here fittingly follow  out a little farther an
analogy more than once suggested in our preceding discussiolls, and one which, though some may deem it homely and
undignified, is genuine and truly illustrative, and therefore
not wanting in instruction: it is the analogy between language and clothing and shelter, as alike results of men's
needs and men's capacities.  Man was not created, like the
inferior -races, with a frame able to bear all the vicissitudes of
climate to which he should be subjected; nor yet with a
26




402          ANALOGIES BETWEEN LANGUAGE          [[LEOT
natural protective covering of hair or wool, capable of adapt.
ing itself to the variety of the seasons: every human being
is born into the world naked and cringing, needing protection
against exposure and defence from shame. Gifted is man,
accordingly, with all the ingenuity which he requires in order
to provide for this need, and placed in the midst of objects
calculated to answer to his requirements, suitable materials
for his ingenuity to work upon ready to his hand. And
hence, it is hardly less distinctively characteristic of man to
be clad than to speak; nor is any other animal so universally
housed as he.  Clothing began with the simplest natural
productions, with leaves and bark, with skins of wild animals,
and the like; as shelter with a cave, a hole in the ground,
the hollow of a tree, a nest of interwoven branches. But
ingenuity and taste, with methods perfected and handed
down from generation to generation, made themselves, more
and more, ministers to higher and less simple needs: thile
craving after comfort, ease, variety, grace, beauty, sought
satisfaction; and architecture by degrees became an art, and
dress-making a handicraft, each surrounded by a crowd of
auxiliary arts and handicrafts, giving occupation to no insignificant part of the human race, calling into action some of
its noblest endowments, and bringing forth forms of elegance
and beauty-embodiments of conceptions, realizations of
ideals, produced by long ages of cultivation, and capable
neither of being conceived nor realized until after a protracted course of training.  So was it also with language.
Man was not created with a mere gamut of instinctive cries,
nor yet with a song like the bird's, as the highest expression
of his love and enjoyment of life: he had wants, and capacities of indefinite improvement, which could be satisfied and
developed only through means of speech; nor was he treated
by nature with a disappointing and baffling niggardliness in
respect to them; he was furnished also with organs of
speech, and the power to apply their products to use in the
formation of language. His first beginnings were rude and
insufficient, but the consenting labour of generations has
perfected them, till human thought has been clothed in gar.
ments measurably worthy of it, and an edifice of speech bha




xI.]          AND CLOTHING AND SHELTER.             403
been erected, grander, more beautiful, and more important
to our race than any other work whatever of its producing.
There are races yet living whose scanty needs and inferior
cvpacities have given them inferior forms of speech, as there
are races which have not striven after, or been able to con.
trive, any but the rudest raiment, the meanest shelter.'But
the child now born among us is dressed in the products of
every continent and every clime, and housed, it may be, in
an edifice whose rules of construction have come down from
Egypt and Greece, through generations of architects and
craftsmen; as he is also taught to express himself in words
and forms far older than the pyramids, and elaborated by a
countless succession of thinkers and speakers.
This comparison might profitably be drawn out in yet
fuller detail, but I forbear to urge it farther, or to call attention to any other of the aspects in which it may be made
to cast light upon the development of speech. Enough has
been said, as I hope, to make plain that the assumption of
miraculous intervention, of superhuman agency, in the first
production of speech, is, so far as linguistic science is concerned, wholly gratuitous, called for by nothing which is
brought to light by our study of language and of its relations
to the nature and history of man.
It is next of primary and fundamental importance that
we make clear to ourselves what is the force directly and
immediately impelling to the production of speech.  Speech,
we know, is composed of external audible signs for internal
acts, for conceptions-for ideas, taking that word in its most
general sense. But why create such signs? The doctrine,
now, is by no means uncommon, that thought seeks expression by an internal impulse; that it is even driven to expression by an inward necessity; that it cannot be thought
at all sithout incorporation in speech; that it tends to ut.
terance as the fully matured embryo tends to burst its
envelop, and to come forth into independent life. This doc.
trine is, in my view, altogether erroneous: I am unable to
see upon what it is founded, if not upon arbitrary assumption,
combined with a thorough misapprehension of the relation
between thought and its expression. It is manifestly op.
26 *




in1             LANOUAGB THE PRODUCT             [LEEM
posed to all the conclusions to which we have been thus far
led by our inquiries into the nature and office of speech.
Speech is not a personal possession, but a social; it belongs,
not to the individual, but to the member of society. No
item of existing language is the work of an individual; for
what we may severally choose to say is not language until it
be accepted and employed by our fellows.  The whole
development of speech, though initiated by the acts of individuals, is wrought out by the community. That is a word,
no matter what may be its origin, its length, its phonetic
form, which is understood in any community, however limited,
as the sign of an idea; and their mutual understanding is the
only tie which connects it with that idea. It is a sign which
each one has acquired from without, from the usage of others;
and each has learned the art of intimating by such signs the
internal acts of his mind. Mutual intelligibility, we have
seen, is the only quality which makes the unity of a spoken
tongue; the necessity of mutual intelligibility is the only
force which keeps it one; and the desire of mutual intelligibility is the impulse which called out speech. Man speaks,
then, primarily, not in order to think, but in order to impart
his thought. His social needs, his social instincts, force him
to expression. A solitary man would never frame a language.
Let a child grow up in utter seclusion, and, however rich and
suggestive might be the nature around him, however full and
appreciative his sense of that which lay without, and his
consciousness of that which went on within him, he would
all his life remain a mute.  On the other hand, let two
children grow up together, wholly untaught to speak, and
they would inevitably devise, step by step, some means of expression for the purpose of communication; how rudiment.
ary, of what slow growth, we cannot tell-and, however interesting and instructive it would be to test the matter by
experiment, humanity forbids us ever to hope or desire to do
so; doubtless the character of the speech produced w&cld vary
with difference of capacity, with natural or accidental difference of circumstances: but it is inconceivable that human
beings should abide long in each other's society without
efforts, ail successful efforts, at intelligent interchange of




xL]         OF SOCIAL WANTS AND IMPULSES.         40o
thought. Again, let one who had grown up even to man.
hood among his fellows, in full and free communication with
them, be long separated from them and forced to live in
solitude, and he would unlearn his native speech by degrees
through mere disuse, and be found at last unable to converse
at all, or otherwise than lamely, until he had recovered by
new practice his former facility of expression.  While a
Swiss Family Robinson keep up their language, and enrich
it with names for all the new and strange places and products
with which their novel circumstances bring them in contact,
a Robinson Crusoe almost loses his for lack of a companion
with whom to employ it. We need not, however, rely for
this conclusion upon imaginary cases alone. It is a wellknown fact that children who are deprived of hearing even
at the age of four or five years, after they have learned to
speak readily and well, and who are thus cut off from vocal
communication with those about them, usually forget all they
had learned, and become as mute as if they had never acquired the power of clothing their thoughts in words. The
internal impulse to expression is there, but it is impotent
to develop itself and produce speech: exclusion from the
ordinary intercourse of man with man not only thwarts its
progress, but renders it unable to maintain itself upon the
stage at which it had already arrived.
Language, then, is the spoken means whereby thought is
comnmunicated, and it is only that. Language is not thought,
nor is thought language; nor is there a mysterious and indissoluble connection between the two, as there is between
soul and body, so that the one cannot exist and manifest
itself without the other. There can hardly be a greater and
more pernicious error, in linguistics or in metaphysics, than
the doctrine that language and thought are identical. It is,
unfortunately, an error often committed, both by linguists
and by metaphysicians.  "Man speaks because he thinks "
is the dictum out of which more than one scholar has proceeded to develop his system of linguistic philosophy. The
assertion, indeed, is not only true, but a truism; no one can
presume to claim that man would speak if he did not think:
but no fair logical process can derive any momentous con.




406             LAXNGTAT' AND'THOUGHT          [LECT
clusi(ns from so loose a premise. So man would not wear
clothes if he had not a body; he would not build spinning
mules and jennies if cotton did not grow on bushes, or wool
on sheep's backs: yet the body is more than raiment, nor do
cotton-bushes and sheep necessitate wheels and water-power.
The body would be neither comfortable nor comely, if not
clad; cotton and wool would be of little use, but for machinery making quick and cheap their conversion into cloth;
and, in a truly analogous way, thought would be awkward,
feeble, and indistinct, without the dress, the apparatus,
which is afforded it in language. Our denial of the identity
of thought with its expression does not compel us to abate
one jot or tittle of the exceeding value of speech to thought;
it only puts that value upon its proper basis.
That thought and speech are not the same is a direct and
necessary inference, I believe, from more than one of the
truths respecting language which our discussions have already
established; but the high importance attaching to a right
understanding of the point will justify us in a brief review
of those truths in their application to it.,In the first place,
we have often had our attention directed tq the imperfection
of language as a full representation of thought. Words and
phrases are but the skeleton of expression, hints of meaning,
light touches of a skilful sketcher's pencil, to which the appreciative sense and sympathetic mind must supply the
filling up and colouring. Our own mental acts and states
we can review in our consciousness in minute detail, but we
can never perfectly disclose them to another by speech; nor
will words alone, with whatever sincerity and candour they
may be uttered, put us in possession of another's consciousness. In anything but the most objective scientific description, or the driest reasoning on subjects the most plain and
obvious, we want more or less knowledge of the individuality
of the speaker or writer, ere we can understand him inti.
mately; his style of thought and sentiment must be gathered
from the totality of our intercourse with him, to make us
sure that we penetrate to the central meaning of any word
he utters; and such study may enable us to find deeper and
deeper significance in expressions that once seemed trivial or




xi.]                 NOT IDENTICAL.                  407
commonp a e.  A look or tone often sheds more ligit upon
character or intent than a flood of words could do. Hmnour,
banter, irony, are illustrations of what tone, or style, or per.
ceived incongruity can accomplish in the way of impressing
upon words a different meaning from that which they of
themselves would wear.  That language is impotent to
express our feelings, though often, perhaps, pleaded as a form
merely, is also a frequent genuine experience; nor is it for
our feelings alone that the ordinary conventional phrases,
weakened in their force by insincere and hyperbolical use, are
found insufficient: apprehensions, distinctions, opinions, of
every kind, elude our efforts at description, definition, intimation. How often must we labour, by painful circumlocution, by gradual approach and limitation, to place before the
minds of others a conception which is clearly present to our
own consciousness! How often, when we have the expression nearly complete, we miss a single word that we need,
and must search for it, in our memories or our dictionaries,
perhaps not finding it in either!  How different is the
capacity of ready and distinct expression in men whose power
of thought is not unlike! he whose grasp of mind is the
greatest, whose review of the circumstances that should lead
to a judgment is most comprehensive and thorough, whose
skill of inference is most unerring, may be, much more than
another of far weaker gifts, awkward and clumsy of speech.
How often we understand what one says better than he
himself says it, and correct his expression, to his own gratification and acceptance. And if all the resources of expression are not equally at tAe command of all men of equal
mental force and training, so neither are they, at their best,
adequate to the wealth of conception of him who wields
them; that would be but a poorly stored and infertile mind
vhich did not sometimes feel the limited capacity of lan.
r~uage, and long for fuller means of expression.
But again, the variety of expression of which the same
thought admits is an insuperable difficulty in the way of
the identification we are opposing. To recur once more to
an illustration of which we have already made use-I form
and utter, for instance, the thought, bfish like water.  How




408                   RELATION OF                  LLEaZ
nearly bare this phrase is of all indication of relations
between the principal ideas, bow ambiguous it is, but for the
tone, the Connection, the circumstances in which it is used,
was pointed out before. If I say'fish, like water-rats,
swim in rivers," or " fish-like water-snakes abound here," I
have variously changed the elements of thought which these
words indicate, without any corresponding change of their
form.  Were I, now, an ancient Roman, the words in which
I should have put my first thought would be pisces amant
aquam. Here, not only are the signs totally different, but a
host of things are distinctly expressed which before were left
to be inferred from the sum and surroundings of the statement.  Pisces is marked not only as being a noun and
nothing else, but a noun in a certain case of the plural
number; amant is not less clearly a verb, and to be made
nowhere but in the third person plural of the present indicative active; while aquam shows by its form that it is used as
the direct object of the preceding verb, and that in all con.
nections it is to be treated as a feminine word. If, again, I
were a Frenchman, I should have said, les poissons aiment
I'eau, literally,' the fishes love the water.' Here nearly all
the expressions of relation which the Latin words conveyed
are lost again; in part, they are left to inference, as
in English; in part, they are intimated by the two
independent relational words, articles; which, moreover,
point out a new relation, that of class (fish in general, not
some fish only), not hinted at in either of the other phrases.
The Chinese would embody the same sense in still other
words, which would be even more barren than our English of
any indication of relations except such as is signified by the
respective position of the words and the requirements of the
situation. Other languages, in expressing the same idea,
would indicate yet other distinctions and relations: one,
perhaps, has a different word for fish when living from that
which denotes them  when dead, or prepared for eating;.
another signifies the fondness which fish have for their native
clement by one term, and the higher affections of more
rational beings by another; and so on. There is thus a very
cons'derable discordance between the various equivalent




xI.]            LANGUAGE AND THOUGHT,               409
phrases, as to how much and what is expressed in the words
signifying the three radical ideas, of fish, liking, and water,,ts to how much is expressed besides those ideas, and as to
how it is expressed; and, at the same time, a total discordance between the sounds used to indicate the various
elements. And yet, so far as we can judge, the thought
expressed is in every instance the very same: certainly,
there is no difference of thought corresponding to or
measured by the difference of expression. Each speaker's
intent, were he called upon to explain it fully, would be
found to agree with that of the rest; only his uttered
words directly signify a part, and leave the rest to be filled
ill by the miil of the hearer.  How, now, can any one
possibly maintain that thought and speech are one and the
same, when identity of thought can consist with so much
diversity of speech?
Look, once more, at the nature of the tie which, as repeat.
edly pointed out, connects any one of the spoken signs we
use with the conception it represents. I learned the word
fish at an early period of my life from my instructors, and
associated it so intimately with a certain idea that the two
are in my mind well-nigh inseparable: I cannot hear fish
without having the corresponding thing called up in my
imagination, nor utter it without calling up the same in the
imagination of every person who has been taught as I was;
nor, again, does any one of us ordinarily form the conception
of a fish without at the same time having the audible complex
of sounds,.fish, utterec to the mind's ear. In later life, I
have learned and associated with the same conception other
words, as piscis, poisson, ichthiis (Greek), and so forth; any
one of these I can call up at will, and employ in plane of
fish, when circumstances make it desirable. That I here use
fish is simply for the reason that I am addressing myself to
those who have mastered this sign, understand it readily, and
are accustomed to employ it; the conventional usage of the
community to which I belong, not anything in the character
of my thought, imposes the necessity upon me: if I went to
France, I should substitute the sign poisson for precisely the
same reason. A d I might stay so long in France, and say




410                  RELATION OF                 [LECT
and hear poisson so often, that it should become more inti.
mately associated with its conception than fish, and should
come more readily and naturally than the latter into my
mind on presentation of the conception: I should then have
learned, as we phrase it, to think in French instead of
English.  How futile, I say again, to talk of such a thing as
identity between thought and. the expression which sits so
loosely upon it, and can lbe so easily shifted! As well compare the house of the hermit-crab-which, born soft and
coverless, takes refuge in the first suitable shell which chance
throws in its way, and thenceforth makes that its home,
unless convenience and opportunity lead it to move to
another-with that of the turtle, whose horny covering is a
part of its own structure, and cannot be torn off without
destruction of its life.
Is there not, in fact, something approaching to palpable
absurdity in the doctrine that words and thoughts are
identical, that the mind thinks words?  Words are not
mental acts; they are combinations of sounds, effects pro.
duced upon the auditory nerve by atmospheric vibrations,
which are brought about by physical agencies-agencies set in
operation, it is true, by acts of volition, but whose products are
no more mental than are pantomimic motions voluntarily
made with the fingers.  We know well, indeed, that there is
a language composed of such motions instead of uttered
words: namely, the language taught as means of communica.
tion and expression to those whose ear is numb to the
ordinary signs of thought. Nothing brings more distinctly
to light the true nature cqf language, as a system of arbitrary
signs fbr thought, learned and made auxiliary to the processes
of thought, than a consideration of the modes of speech
practised by the deaf and dumb: whether their general language, which intimates ideas by significant gestures, possessing in the main a certain degree of evident relevancy, but
conventional in their special application; or their finger.
speech, that most strange and anomalous moce of representation of ideas at second hand, by wholly arbitrary contortions
of certain appendages of the body, standing for another kind
of signs, namely articulate sounds, of the true nature od




xx.]            LAGUA.tI   AND rHOUGO               411
which these unfortunate beings cannot form  the slightest
conception.  But either of these kinds of language, or their
combination, answers for the deaf-mute the same purpose
that our speech answers for us, and in the same way, only in
an inferior degree, owing to the comparative imperfection ol
the instrumentality-although the question may be seriously
raised, whether it be not nearly or quite as effective a means
of expression and aid of thought as is, rude and rudimentary
spoken language like the Chinese.' If, then, thought and
language are identical, thought and pantomime are not less
so; if we think words, the mute must think finger-twists:
and who will venture seriously to maintain a proposition so
manifestly preposterous P
But if we must thus deny that, in any admissible sense of
the expression, language is thought, it still remains for us to
inquire whether thought is not co-extensive with and dependent upon language;  whether we can think otherwise than in
and by words. The claim is sometimes roundly made, that
" general ideas and words are inseparable; that the one cannot exist without the other; " that, " without words, not even
such simple ideas as white or black can for a moment be
realized." Let us examine for a moment this last assertion,
and see whether it be well founded.  Suppose, for instance,
that there occurred but a single white substance, namely
snow, in the nature by which we are surrounded: it is both
possible and altogether likely that, while we had a name for
the substance, we should have none for the colour: and yet,
we shouild not therefore any the less apprehend that colour,
as distinct from those of other objects; even as we now
apprehend a host of shades of blue, green, red, purple, for
which we possess no specific appellations.  We conceive of
them, we are able tod recognize them  at sight, but their
practical value is not sufficient to lead us to name them
separately. If, then, on going southward, we made- acquaint.
ance with cotton, we should not fail to notice and fully to
realize its accordance with snow in the quality of whiteness,
even though we had no name for the quality.  On the con.
trary, we should certainly proceed to call cotton "snowy,"
for the precise reason that we did notice the correspondence




412               POWER OF THOUGHT                [LEOT.
of the two in colour;.and, as we went on to meet with other
substances of like hue, we should call them " snowy" also;
and at length —particularly, if we had left the zone of snow
behind us-snowy would come to mean in our use what
white does now, and snowiness would signify'whiteness.'
We should have supplied the deficiency of our vocabulary in
this regard, not because we could not form a conception of
the colour without the name, but because we had found it
practically convenient to give a name to the conception we
had formed. The example is a typical one; it illustrates
the universal process of names-giving, in all its forms and in
all ages. Our primitive ancestors were not unable to apprehend the existence and office of the earth's satellite until
they had devised for her the appellation of'measurer;' and,
if she had a yet earlier title, it was given her in like manner,
for some quality distinctly perceived in her. We always
make a new word, or bestow upon an old word a new mneaning, because we have an idea that wants a sign. To main.
tain that the idea waits for its generation until the sign is
ready, or that the generation of the idea and of the sign is a
simple and indivisible process, is much the same thing as to
hold, since infants cannot thrive in this climate without
clothing and shelter, that no child is or can be born until, a
layette and a nursery are ready for its use, or that along with
each child are born its swaddling-clothes and a cradle!
It must be farther conceded, then, that the operations of
mind are at least so far independent of language that thought
is able to reach out in every direction a step beyond the border of speech;. to conquer, bit by bit, new territory for
speech to occupy and hold in possession. But our earlier
reasonings and examples have shown that there is no small
degree of incommensurability between the two in other respects also, that we do not and cannot always precisely communicate what we are conscious of having in our minds, and
that, of what we call our expression, a part consists merely
in so disposing a framework of words that those who hear us
are enabled to infer much more than we really express, and
much more definitely than we express it. That we ordinarily
think with words may be true: but I imagine that the ex.




M.]             INDEPENDENT OF LANGUAGE.                 413
tent to which we do so, and the necessity of the accompaniment, are both apt to be considerably exaggerate l. When
we think most elaborately and most reflectively, then we
formulate our thoughts as if we were speaking or writing
them; but we need not always think in that style.  If I
hold up two sticks together, to see which is the longer, my
comparison and conclusion are assuredly, both of them, independent of any use of language, spoken or conceived of.
When I taste a bit of strong sea-duck, which has been put
upon my plate for mallard, my perception of its flavour and
my judgment that "the bird is fishy" are wholly instantaneous, and simple mental acts: I may then proceed to
state my judgment, either to myself or to others, in whatever
style of elaboration I may choose.  This, if I mistake not,
is the normal order of procedure: thle mental act is momentary, its formulation in words occupies time; we have our
thought to start with, and then g'o on to give it deliberate
expression. The operation of thinking in words is a double
one; it consists of thinking and of putting the thought into
words; we conceive the thought and conceive also its expression. That, when we turn our attention full.upon our
own minds, we read there the act and its expression together,
does not necessarily prove more than the intimacy of the
association we have established between our conceptions and
their signs, and the power over us of the habit of expression.
Every deliberate thought, doubtless, goes through the mind
of the deaf-mute accompanied by an image of the dactylic
writhings which would be his natural mode of expressing it; *
but his mental action is not slavishly dependent upon such
an external auxiliary.
The only way, in fact, to prove the necessary coInnection
and mutual limitation of thought and speech is to lay down
such a definition of the former as excludes everything which
* Indeed, I know that the children of a late principal of the Hartford
deaf-and-dumb asylum, who had grown up in the asylum, and knew the peculiar language of the inmates as familiarly as their English, could always
tell what their father was thinking of, as he walked up and down in medita.
tion, by watching his hands: his fingers involuntarily formed the signs
wllich were associated in his mind with his subjects of thought; while at the
same time, doubtless, he imagined also their spoken signs




U14                 MENTAL ACTION                 [LBOT
is not done by means of the latter. If thought is only that
kind of mental action which is performed in and through
words, all other being mere —what shall we call it?-preliminary and preparatory to thought, the question becomes
simply a verbal one, and is settled.  But it were futile to
attempt thus to narrow the application of the term. Appre.
hension of generals and particulars, comparison, distinction,
inference, performed under the review  of consciousness,
capable of being remembered and applied to direct the con.
duct of life-these are the characteristics of the action of
mind, ii: every grade; where they are present, there is thought.
And who will dare to deny even to the uninstructed deafmute the possession of ideas, of cognitions multitudinous and
various, of power to combine observations and draw conclusions from them, of reasonings, of imaginings, of hopes?
Who will say, then, that he does not think, though his
thinking faculty has not yet been trained and developed by
the aid of a system of signs? But neither can we refuse to
believe that some of the lower animals have a capacity of
thinking, although they are incapable of the production of
any signs of their ideas which we may venture to dignify by
the name of language. A dog, for instance, as surely ap.
prehends the general ideas of a tree, a man, a piece of meat,,
cold and heat, light and darkness, pleasure and pain, kindness, threatening, barking, running, and so on, through the
whole range, limited as compared with ours, of matters within
his ken, as if he had a word' for each.' He can as clearly
form the intention "I mean to steal that -boie, if its owner
turns his back and gives me a fair chance," as if he said it
to himself in good English..' He can draw a complex of syllogisms, when applying to present exigencies the results of
past experience, and can determine "that smoking water
must be hot, and I shall take good care not to put my foot
into it "-that is to say, "water that smokes is hot; this
water smokes; therefore, this water is hot: hot water hurts;
this water is hot; ergo, it will hurt my foot," He is, to be
sure, far enough from being able to put his process of
thought into that shape; but so is many a human being who
can not only &:aw the conclusion with unerring judgment,




n.]j            OF BRUTES AND MUTES.               415
but also state it with perfect intelligibility.''That the dog
and many other animals make no very distant approach to
a capacity for language is shown farther by their ability to
understand and obey what is said to them. They are able so
distinctly to associate certain ideas with the words we utter
as to govern their actions accordingly. Even the dull ox
knows which way to turn when his driver cries gee or haw to
him; and the exceeding intelligence with which some dogs
will listen to directions, and even overhear conversation, has
been the subject of many striking and authentic anecdotes.,
It is vain and needless to deny a correspondence up to -
certain point between men and other animals in regard to
the phenomena of mental activity, as well as the other phenomena connected with animal life, like digestion, motion, enjoyment and suffering.  But their power of thinking is not,'ike ours, capable of free and indefinite development by education, whereof language is the chief means, as it is the sign
also of a capacity for it.  There is, it need not be doubted,
no small difference between the thought of the most intelligent of the lower races, and that of the least cultivated
speechless human being. Yet what a chaos of unanalyzed
conceptions, undefined impressions, and unreasoned conclusions the mind of every one of us would be without
speech, it is well-nigh impossible for us to have even a faint
idea-for us who have so long enjoyed the advantage of expression, and so accustomed ourselves to lean upon it, that
we can now even differ and dispute as to whether thought
and its instrument are not one and the same thing.  The
mental action of the wholly wild and untrained man is certainly less unlike to that of the beast than to that of the man
who has been educated by the acquisition and use of language.  The distinction of the two former is mainly that of
potentiality; they are like the fecundated and the unfecun.
dated egg: the one can develop into organized life; the
other cannot. Let us look at an illustration which shall set
forth both their correspondence and their difference.
It has been often remarked that the crow has a capacity to
count, up to a certain number. If two hunters enter a hut
and only one comes out, he will not be allured near the place




416         DIFFERENCE OF MENTAL ACTION         [LE20,
by any bait, however tempting; the same will be the case, if
three enter and two come out, or if four enter and three
come out-and so on, till a number is reached which is beyond his arithmetic; till he cannot perceive that one has
been left behind, and so is led to venture within reach of the
hidden gun, to his destruction. Something very like this would
be true of men, without language.  Open for the briefest
instant a hand with one corn in it, and then again with two,
and any one who has an eye can tell the difference; so with
two and three, with three and four-and so on, up to a limit
which may vary with the quickness of eye and readiness of
thought of the counter, results of his natural capacity or of
his training, but which is surely reached, and soon. Open
the hand, for instance, with twenty corns, then drop one
secretly and open it again, and the surest eye that ever
looked could not detect the loss.  Or put near one another
two piles or rows, one of nineteen, the other of twenty, and
it would be not less impracticable to distinguish them by im.
mediate apprehension. But here appears the discordance
between the human mind and that of the brute.  The crow
would never find out that the heap of twenty is greater than
that of nineteen; the man does it without difficulty: he
analyzes or breaks up both into pafts, say of four corns each,
the numerical value of which he can immediately apprehend,
as well as their number; and he at last finds a couple of
parts, whereof both he and the crow could see that the one
exceeds the other.
In this power of detailed review, analysis, and comparison,
now, lies, as I conceive, the first fundamental trait of superiority of man's endowment. But this is not all. This would
merely amount to a great and valuable extension of the
limits of immediate apprehension; whereas the crow knows
well that three corns are more than two corns, man would
be able also to satisfy himself, in every actual case which should
arise, that twenty corns are more than nineteen corns, or a
hundred corns than ninety-nine corns; and he would be
able to make an intelligent choice of the larger heap where
a crow might cheat himself through ignorance. So much is
possible without language, nor would it alone ever lead to




rI.]         IN MEN AND OTHER ANIMALS.            417
the possession of language. In order to this, another kind
of analysis is necessary, an analysis which separates the
qualities of a thing from the thing itself, and contemplates
them apart. The man, in short, is able to perceive, not only
that three corns are more than two corns, but that three are
more than two —a thing that the bird neither does nor can
do. Such a perception makes language possible-for language-making is a naming of the properties of things, and of
things themselves through those properties-and, combined
with the other power which we have just noticed, it creates
the possibility also of an indefinite progression in thinking
and reasoning by means of language. Signs being found for
the conceptions'one,''two,''three,' and so on, we can proceed to build them up into any higher aggregate that we
choose, following each step of combination f-by a sign, and
with that sign associating the result of the process that
made it, so as to be effectually relieved of the necessity of
performing the process over again in each new case. Thus,
from the recognition that three is more than two, that two
and one are three, that twice two is four-all which truths
are virtually within reach of the crow, since he would determine aright any practical question that involved them-we
rise to the recognition that twenty is more than nineteen,
that fifteen and five are twenty, that seven times seven are
forty-nine, or ten times ten are a hundred: and these are
truths which we could only reach by means of language;
they are inferences, circuitously arrived at, and made by
means of language not less manageable than the simpler
truths which are matters of direct synthetic apprehension.
He who, having learned only to count, constructs for his own
use a multiplication-table, has to work onward from step to
step in somewhat the same way as he who has no speech;
but every product that he attains and fixes in memory with
its factors, is an acquisition made once for all. Indefinite
progress is thus ushered in; every new result of mathematical reasoning is rendered capable of being handled, and the
whole career of mathematical science is initiated. Yet not
to be carried on by words alone. The most skilful mathema.
ticean cannot perform any of the more complicated processes
27




418                 AID GIVEN BY                [LZCT.
of calculation with signs merely uttered or conceived of as
uttered; he must write down his equations and series, and
work out painfully, in long rows of figures, his numerical results: for, though all was implied in his first assumption, as
evolved according to the unvarying relations of numbers,
and the principles of mathematical reasoning, he is unable to
grasp the various quantities with his mind, and to follow out
unerringly the successive steps of the processes, without recording each as he takes it. It is none the less true, however, that the whole work is a mental one: mathematical
quantities are identical neither with the written figures and
symbols, nor with the spoken signs; nor is mathematical
reasoning dependent for its existence upon the one or the
other: both are kindred instrumentalities, whereby the mind
is enabled to accomplish what would otherwise be wholly
beyond its power.
The main truths which we have to accept as touching the
relation of language to thought are, I think, brought out by
this illustration. It is, indeed, an extreme illustration on
the side of the indispensability of language. For no other
class of conceptions are so eminently abstract as are the
mathematical, none so wholly dependent upon spoken and
written signs and symbols. They are so essentially ideal in
their character, so divorcible from concrete objects, that they
can be worked with mechanically, can be put together and
taken apart without constant reference to real conditionsthough only according to rules and methods ultimately
founded on concrete exemplification, on immediate synthetic
apprehensions which are capable of being grasped by minds
lower than human. Yet, even here, the signs are merely
the instruments of thought, and created by it. The symbols
of the calculus are not more truly the device of the masterminds which, exalted upon the vantage-ground of their own
and others' previous studies, apprehended the higher and
more recondite relations involved in this new mode of
mathematical reasoning, than the whole nomenclature of
numbers is the gradually elaborated work of men who saw
and felt impelled to signify the simpler and more fundamental
relations, those which seem to lie within the reach of every




xI.J            LAINGUA4E TO THOUGHT.             419
intellect. That, however, they are not so easily attained,
that not a little time and reflection, and some special insight,
were required for generating even an ordinary system of
numeration, is clearly shown by the facts of language. There
are dialects that name no higher numbers than'three' or'four:' all beyond is an undistinguished " many," the definite
relations of which are as unmanageable by the speakers of
those dialects as if they were speechless. Many others have
not risen to the apprehension of a hundred; the Indo.
European race, before its dispersion, had apparently formed
no word for' thousand;' the Greek popular mind had distinctly conceived no higher group than'ten thousand'
(myriad).  We have ourselves given names only to a few of
the first numbers in that infinite series which, having once
hit upon the method of decimal multiplication and notation,
we are capable of apprehending and of managing.  And
what more significant mark of the externality of the whole
system of numerical names and signs could we ask to find
than its decimal character, which, as every one knows, is
altogether based upon the wholly irrelevant circumstance of
the number of our fingers, those ready aids to an unready
reckoner?  Had we chanced to possess six digits on each
hand, our series of arithmetical "digits" would also be
twelve, and we should now be rejoicing in the use of a
duodecimal system-the superior advantages of which in
many respects are generally acknowledged.
~In every department of thought, the mind derives from
the possession of speech something of the same advantage,
and in the same way, as in mathematical reasoning. The
idea which has found its incarnation in a word becomes
thereby a subject of clearer apprehension and more manageable use: it can be turned over, compared, limited, placed in
distinct connection with other ideas; more than one mind,
more than one generation of minds, can work at it, giving it
Shape, and relation, and significance.  In every word is
recorded the result of a mental process, of abstraction or of
combination; which process, being thus recorded, can be
taught along with its sign, or its result can be used as a step
to something higher or deeper. There are grades of tho-ight,
27 ~




420                 AID GIVEN BY                [LEOCt
spheres of ratio:ination, where our minds could hardly work
at all without the direct aid of language; as there are also
those where they could not surely hold and follow the chain
of reason and deduction without the still further assistance
afforded by writing down the argument. It may be freely
conceded that such mental processes as we are in the constant
habit of performing would be too difficult for us to compass
without words-as they certainly also lie far beyond what
would have been our mental reach had we not been trained
through the use of language to orderly thought, and enriched
with the wealth of mental acquisitions accumulated by our
predecessors and stored up in words. But this is a very
different thing from acknowledging that thought is impossible
without language. So, also, to build steam-engines and
tubular-bridges, to weave satins and Brussels carpets, to
tunnel mountains, to fill up valleys, is impossible without the
aid of complicated and powerful machinery; yet we do not
on that account deny all power and efficiency to the bare
human hands. On the contrary, we see clearly that machinery is, in every part and parcel, ultimately the work of
human hands, vhich can do wondrous things without it, if
still more wondrous with it. Language, in like manner, is
the instrument of thought, the machinery with which the
mind works; an instrument by which its capacity to achieve
valuable results is indefinitely increased, but which, far from
being identical with it, is one of its own products; with and
by which it works with freedom, depending upon it now
more, now less, according to circumstances-as the matter in
hand, the style of elaboration, the deliberation required or
permitted; and fully able to carry on the same operations
with instrumentalities greatly differing in completeness and
inherent adaptation to their purpose.
Our conclusion stands fast, then, that thought is anterior
to language, -and independent of it; it is not compelled to
find expression in order to be thought.  The immense and
incalculable advantage which it gains from its command of
speech is something incidental: something intended, indeed,
and a necessary implication in the gift of speech to the
human race; yet coming as a consequence of something elie,




XL]              LANGUAGE TO THOUGHT.              421
growing out of that communication which rr tn must and will
have with their fellows. True it is that the individual mind.
without language, would be a dwarfed and comparatively
powerless organ: but this means simply that man could
develop his powers, and become what he was meant to be,
only in society, by converse with his fellows. He is by' hip
essential nature a social being, and his most precious indi
vidual possession, his speech, he gets only as a social being
The historical beginnings of speech, therefore, were no spoit
taneous outbursts, realizing to the mind of the utterer the
conceptions with which he was swelling; they were successful results of the endeavour to arrive at signs by which
those conceptions should be called up also in the minds of
others.
These considerations, if I am not mistaken, will be found
to relieve the remaining part of the problem we are considering of not a little of its perplexity. Recognizing the
external and non-essential nature of the bond which unites
every constituent of language to the idea represented by it,
and also the external nature of the force which brings about
the genesis of the sign, we are enabled to reduce the inquiry
to this form: how should the first language-makers, human
beings gifted like ourselves, with no exceptional endowments,
but with no disabilities other than that of the non-development of their inherent capacities, have naturally succeeded
in arriving at the possession of signs by which they could
understand one another? Before we take up and examine
the theories which have been proposed to explain the first
processes of sign-making, however, we must look for a
moment at one or two preliminary points, of a more general
character.
Our first point concerns the office of the voice as instrumelt of expression. If the tie between idea and sign be so
loose, it may be asked, why is the sign always a spoken one,
and language, as we use the term, a body solely of articulated
utterances?  In answering this, it is sufficient to point out
the superior convenience and availability of spoken signs, ag
compared with those of any other kind. These qualities,
and these alone, designate the voice to its office.  There ia




422                  THE VOICE AS                [LEO?,
no necessary connection between mental acts and vocal
utterances. The one thing necessary is, that thought, tend.
ing irresistibly toward expression under the impulse to comrn
munication, should find the means of intelligibly expressing
itself. With the mental powers and social tendencies which
men have, they would, even if unendowed with voice, have
nevertheless put themselves in possession of language-language less perfect and manageable, to be sure, than is our
present speech; but still, real language.  Resort, doubtless
would first have been had to gesture: it is hardly less
natural to men to use their hands than their tongues to help
the communication of their ideas; the postures of the body,
the movements of the face, can be made full of significance;
the resources of pantomime are various and abundant, and
constitute a means of expression often successfully employed,
between those who are unacquainted with the conventional
signs of one another's spoken language.  Those human
beings whose vocal powers are rendered useless by the deadness of their ears learn a pantomimic language which answers
their needs, both of communication and of mental training,
in no stinted measure.  It has, indeed, its limitations and
defects; but what it might be made, if it were the only
means of communication attainable by men, and were
elaborated by the consenting labour of generations, as spoken
speech has been, we perhaps are slow to realize.  I' do not
doubt that it might far exceed, both in wealth of resources
and in distinct apprehensibility, many an existing spoken
language, might ally itself with a mode of writing, and
become an efficient means and aid of human progress. How
easy a language of gestures is to acquire, and how natural to
use, is clearly shown by the fact that the fully endowed
children of the instructors in deaf-and-dumb asylums,
brought up among those who employ both it and the spoken
tongue, are accustomed to learn the former first, and to avail'
themselves of it in preference to the other, till long after the
time when other children usually talk freely.  It is past all
reasonable question that, in the earliest communieation
between human beings, gesture long played a considerable,
if not the principal, part, and that our race learned only by




XI.1          INSTRUMENT OF EXPRESSION.            423
Jegrees the superior capacities of spoken signs, and by
degrees worked them out to a sufficiency for all the ordinary
needs of expression; when gesture was relegated to the depart.
ment of rhetoric, to the office of giving individual colouring
and intensity to intellectual expression —as, in all welldeveloped languages, has been the case with tone also. We
do not need to enter here into any detailed inquiry as to the
modes and reasons of the special adaptedness of vocal utterance to the uses of expression. The fact is palpable, recog.
nized by every mind, and illustrated by the whole history of
human communication.  We feel that those who learn to
talk well without speaking are to be compared with the
mutilated beings who, deprived of hands, learn to make their
feet do the ordinary and natural work of hands. Many of
us have seen toys constructed, figures cut out, pictures
painted by such beings, with the help of instruments grasped
by the toes, which we who possess the most supple of fingers
might try in vain to imitate: and in the possibility of such
things we note the controlling power of the true actor, the
human mind and soul, which, in the direction of its special
gifts, can work out beautiful and wonderful results with
instrumentalities that appear to us awkward, feeble, and
inefficient.  The voice, the articulating power, was the
appointed and provided means of supplying the chief want
of man's social nature, language; and no race of men fails
to show, by its possession of articulate speech, that the prc.
vision was one natural, recognizable, and sufficient.
Our second point concerns the general class of ideas
which should have first found incorporation in speech.
What we are brought by our historical analysis of language
to- recognize as the beginnings of speech was set forth in the
seventh lecture.  Roots, directly significant of quality or
action, were there shown to be the starting-points, the germs,
of our whole vast system  of nomenclature, for qualities,
beings, and relations. Many minds, however, find a difficulty
in accepting such a result. They are unwilling to believe
that language can have begun with the expression of any.
thing so abstract as a quality; they feel as if the first words
must have been designations for concrete things, for the




424                ACTS AND QUALITIES
familiar objects of primitive life. The source of their diffi.
culty lies in the fact that they would confound the prima
denominata, the things first named, with the prima cognita,
the things first cognized, apprehended by the mind, either
as individuals or as classes. In truth, however, the two are
quite distinct. It is not to be doubted that concrete things
are first recognized, distinguished, and classified, in the
earliest synthetic operations of the intelligence; so are they
also in the inferior intelligences of the lower animals; but
these synthetic cognitions do not and cannot lead to lan.
guage. Language begins-with analysis, and the apprehen-.
sion of characteristic qualities. Not what the mind first
consciously contemplated, but what was most readily capable of being intelligibly signified, determined the earliest
words. Now a concrete object, a complex existence, is just
as much out of the immediate reach of the sign-making
faculty as is a moral act or an intellectual relation.  As,
during the whole history of language, designations of the
latter classes of ideas have been arrived at through the medium of names for physical acts and relations, so have appellations for the former been won by means of their perceived
characteristics. No etymologist feels that he has traced out
the history of any concrete appellation till he has carried ii.
back to a word expressive of quality. We saw in the third
lecture that, when we would make a name for a thing, we
have recourse always to its qualities; we take some general
word designating one of its distinguishing properties, and
limit it to signifying the thing itself (as when we derived
board from  broad, moon from  measuring, smith from smooth.
ing); or else we identify by some common property or pro.
perties, or connect by some other equivalent tie of association
the thing to be named with another thing already named,
and call it by the latter's title (as in deriving Jupiter's moons
from moon, Board of Trade from board, Smiths from smith).
Let any one of us, even now, after all our long training in
the expression of our conceptions, attempt to convey to another person his idea of some sensible thing, and he will
inevitably find himself reviewing its distinctive qualities, and




xI.3            THE FIRST THINGS NAMED.              425
selecting those which he shall intimate, by suc h signs as he
can make intelligible: there is no other way in which we
can make a definition or description, whether for our own
use or for that of anybody else. If, for example, a dog is
the subject of our effort, we compare our conception of him
with those of other sensible objects, and note its specific differences-as his animality, shape, size, disposition, voice.
This is so essentially a human procedure that we cannot conceive of the first makers of language as following any other.
Then, in finding a designation, it would be impossible to include and body forth together the sum of observed qualities:
in the first instance, not less than in all after time, some one
among them would necessarily be made the ground of appel.
lation. The sign produced would naturally vary with the
instrumentality used to produce it, and the sense to which it
was addressed: in the instance which we have supposed, if
the means of communication were writing, it would'probably
be the outline figure of a dog; if gesture, aniAmitation of
some characteristic visible act, like biting, or wagging the
tail; if the voice, not less evidently an imitation of the
audible act of barking: the dog's primal designation would
be bow-wow, or something equivalent to it. But in this
designation would be directly intimated the act; the actor
would be suggested by implication merely: bow-wow, as name
for'dog,' would literally mean' the animal that bow-wouws.'
So in the case of a word like splash, used to imitate and call
up before the mind the fall of a stone into water-the collision of the stone and the water would be the immediate
suggestion; but a natural act of association might make the
sign mean the stone, or the water, or the act of throwing, or
the fall. One sign would turn more readily to the designation of a property or action, another to that of a concrete
thing, an actor, according fo the nature of each, and the
exigencies of practical use as regarded it; but both would
be inherently a kind of indifferent middle, capable of conversion to either purpose: and, in the poverty of expression
and indistinctness of analysis belonging to the primitive stage
of linguistic growth, would doubtless bear various offices at




426                 THEORIES OF THE               LLI.
once. In short, they would be such rudiments of speech,
rather than parts of speech, as we have already found the
radical elements of language to be.
Thus we see that the necessary conditions of the act of pro.
duction of our language, as being the creation of a spoken
sign for mutual intelligence between speaker and hearer, de.
termine the kind of significance belonging to the first produced words. An acted sign, and a language of such, would
have been of the same quality. While, on the other hand,
a language of written characters, beginning with pictorial
signs, would be of a very different structure: its first words
would be designations of concrete sensible objects-since
drawings are fitted to suggest concrete objects rather than
their individual qualities-and, from these, designations of
qualities would have to be arrived at by secondary processes.
Our reasonings have now at length brought us very near
to a positive conclusion respecting the mode of genesis of
even the first beginnings of spoken speech.  But, rather
than follow them farther, to a yet more definite result, we
will proceed to examine the various theories that have been
framed to explain how men should have found out what their
voice was given them for, and should have begun to apply it
to its proper uses, producing with it significant words.
Of such theories there are three which are especially
worthy of note. The first holds that the earliest names of
objects and actions were produced by imitation of natural
sounds: animals, for instance, were denominated from their
characteristic utterances, as, with us, the cuckoo is so named:
the dog was called a bow-wow, the sheep a baa, the cow a
wnoo, and so on; while the many noises of inanimate nature,
as the whistling of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the gurgling and splashing of water, the cracking and crashing of
heavy falling objects, suggested in like manner imitative
utterances which were applied to designate them; and that
by such means a sufficient store of radical words was originated to serve as the germs of language. This is called the
onomatopoetic theory.  The second is to this effect: that the
natural sounds which we utter when in a state of excited
feeling, the ch's and ah's, the pooh's and pshato's, are the ulti.




xt.]              ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE.                  427
mate beginnings of speech. This is styled the interjewtonal
theory. A recent writer of great popularity, Professor Mlax
Miiller,* ent-rely rejects both these, stigmatizing them  as
" the bow-wow theory " and " the pooh-pooh theory" respectively, and adopts from a German authority (Professor Heyse,
of Berlin) a third, which is, abridged from his own statement,
as follows: " There is a law which runs through nearly the
whole of nature, that everything which is struck rings.
Each substance has its peculiar ring.... It was the same
with man, the most highly organized of nature's works "and so on.  Man possessed an instinctive "faculty for giv.
ing articulate expression to the rational conceptions of his
mind." But " this creative faculty, which gave to each conception, as it thrilled for the first time through the brain, a
phonetic expression, became extinct when its object was fulfilled," etc. This, in its turn, has been very appositely
termed " the ding-dong theory."
What value we have to attribute to these various theories
is readily to be inferred from the principles already laid down
and established. The third may be very summarily dis.
missed, as wholly unfounded and worthless. It is, indeea,
not a little surprising to see a man of the acknowledged
ability and great learning of Professor Miiller, after depre.
ciating and casting ridicule upon the views of others respecting so important a point, put forward one of his own as a
mere authoritative dictum, resting it upon nothing better
than a fanciful comparison which lacks every element of a
true analogy, not venturing to attempt its support by a
single argument, instance, or illustration, drawn from either
the nature or the history of language. I-e tells us, virtually,
that man was at the outset a kind of bell; and that, when
an idea struck him, he naturally rang.'We wonder it was not
added that, like other bells, he naturally rang by the tongue:
this would have been quite in keeping with the rest, and
would merely have set more plainly before our minds the
real character of the whole theory. It fully implies the
doctrine, which we have shown above to be erroneous, that
* In his Lectures on the Science of Language, first series, last lecture,




423             TBHE " DING-DONG" THEORY.          [LECT.
thought tennd3 to burst into expression by an internal
impulse, instead of under an external inducement; and with
this it couples the gratuitous assumption that the impulse
ceased to act when a first start had thus been given to the
development of human speech. In effect, it explains tl;e
origin of language by a miracle, a special and exceptional
capacity having been conferred for the purpose upon the
first men, and withdrawn again from  their descendants.
The formation of language is never over in any such manner
as should release an instinct like this from farther service, if
it really existed in human nature.  New cognitions and
deductions still thrill through the brains of men, yet without
setting their tongues swinging, any more than their fingers
working. In all our investigations of language, we find
nothing which should lead us to surmise that an intellectual
apprehension could ever, by an internal process, become
transmuted into an articulated sound or complex of sounds.
We do, indeed, see that what strongly affects the emotional
nature prompts utterance, as it also prompts gesture: fear,
surprise, joy, lead to exclamations; and delight at a new
cognition might find vent in an interjection; but this inter.
jection would express the delight, not the cognition; if language commenced in such a way, the historical beginnings
of speech would be names of emotions, not of the qualities of
objects.
The fatal weakness of such attempts as this to explain the
earliest steps in the formation of language lies in the fact
that they would fain discover there some force at work
differing entirely from that which directs the whole aftercourse of linguistic development.  We, on the contrary,
having fully recognized the truth that all language-making,
through the long recorded periods of linguistic history, consists in a succession of attempts to find an intelligible sign for
a conception which the mind has formed and desires to communicate, must look to find the same principle operative also
at the very outset of that history.
Regarding the matter in this light, we shall not fail to see
clearly what and how much value we are to ascribe to the
other two theories, the oLomatopoctic and the interjectional




z4o]           THE IMITATIVE THEORY.              429
Each of thenm furnishes a good and sufficient explanation of
a part of the facts for which we are seeking to account,
since each suggests available means by which the first
speakers should have arrived at mutually intelligible signs.
Especially great and undeniable are the capabilities of the ono.
matopoetic principle. We saw in one of our recent illustra.
tions that, since qualities or acts are the immediate objects
of the first designations, and since the voice is the appointed
means of designating, audible acts, utterances or accompanying noises, would be most naturally chosen to be designated.
That words have been and may be formed through the
medium of imitation of natural sounds is palpably true;
every language has such to show in its vocabulary. That,
for example, an animal can be named from its cry, and the
name thus given generalized and made fertile of derivatives,
is shown by such a word as cock, which is regarded by etymologists as an abbreviated imitation of chanticleer's cock-adoodle-doo! and from which come, by allusion to the bird's
pride and strut, the words coquette, cockade, the cock of
a gun, to cock one's eye, to cock the head on one side, a
cocked hat, and so on. Through all the stages of growth of
language, absolutely new words are produced by this method
more than by any other, or even almost exclusively; there is
also to be seen an evident disposition to give an imitative
complexion to words which denote matters cognizable by
the ear; the mind pleases itself with bringing about a sort
of agreement between the sign and the thing signified
Both theory and observed fact, therefore, unite to prove the
imitative principle more actively productive than any other
in the earliest processes of language-making. But neither
is a noteworthy degree of importance to be denied to the
exclamatory or interjectional principle.  It is, beyond all
question, as natural for the untaught and undeveloped man
to utter exclamations, as to make gestures, expressive of his
feelings; and as, in the absence of a voice, the tendency to
gesture might have been fruitful in suggesting a language of
significant motions, so we may most plausibly suppose that
the tendency to exclaim was not without value in aiding men
to realize that they had in their voices that which was capable




430                VARIETIES OF THE                rLa2
of being applied to expresa the movements of their spirits.
Perhaps the principal contribution of exclamations to the
origin of language was made in this way, rather than by the
furnishing of actual radical tlements: for the latter work,
their restricted scope, their subjective character, their infertility of relations, would render them less fitted.
There is no real discordance between the onomatopoetic
and interjectional theories, nor do the advocates of either, ii
is believed, deny or disparage the value of the other, or refuse
its aid in the solution of their common problem. The definition of the onomatopoetic principle might be without difficulty
or violence so widened that it should include the interjectional. We must, indeed, beware of restricting its action
too narrowly. It is by no means limited to a reproduction
of the sounds of animate and inanimate nature: it admits
also a kind of symbolical representation-as an intimation of
abrupt, or rapid, or laborious, or smooth action by utterances
making an analogous impression upon the ear. A yet more
subjective symbolism has been sought for among some of the
earlier constituents of speech; it has been suggested, for example, not without a certain degree of plausibility, that the
pronominal root of the first person in the Indo-European (and
in many other) languages, ma (our me), has in its internality
of formation, its utterance with closed lips, as if shutting out
the external world, a peculiar adaptedness to express one's
own personality; and that the demonstrative ta (which has
become our that) was prompted by the position it calls for
in the tongue, which is thrust forward in the mouth, as it
were to point out the object indicated. Very little of this
kind, if anything at all, can be satisfactorily made out in the
material of language; that, however, some degree of such
subjective correspondence, felt more distinctly in certain
cases; less so ih others, may have sometimes suggested to a
root-proposer, by a subtile and hardly definable analogy, one
particular complex of sounds rather than another, as the
representative.of an idea for which he was seeking expression,
need.not be absolutely denied.  Only, in admitting it, and
seeking for traces of its influence, we must beware of
approx"mating in any degree to that wildest and most




X1.]             IMITATIVE PRINCIPLE.              431
absurd of the many vagaries respecting language, the doctrine of the natural and inherent significance of articulate
sounds.
It is quite unnecessary that we should attempt to determine the precise part played by these principles, or these
different forms of the onomatopoetic principle, in generating
the germs of speech. We cannot go far astray, either in
overestimating or in underestimating the value of each one
of them, if we bear always distinctly in mind the higher
principle under which they all alike exercised their influence:
namely, that the language-makers were not attempting to
make a faithful depiction of their thought, but only to find
for it a mutually intelligible sign; and that everything which
conduced to such intelligibility would have been, and was,
resorted to, and to an extent dependent on its degree of
adaptedness to the purpose-the extent being a fair matter
for difference of opinion, and for ascertainment by further
detailed investigation, both theoretical and historical. There
are many ideas which would be much more clearly intimated
by a gesture, a grimace, or a tone, than by a word; and, as
has been already remarked, we cannot doubt that tones,
grimaces, and gestures' constituted no small portion of the
first sign-language, both as independently conveying meaning,
and as helping to establish the desired association between articulate signs and the ideaswhich they were intended to signify.
Latnguage, indeed, never fully outgrows the need of their
assistance: it is only the most highly developed and culti.
vated tongues, wielded by the most skilful writers, that can
make a written passage, even when addressed to the intellect
alone, as clear and effective as the same would be when
well uttered, with the addition of due emphasis and inflection: and where the emotions and passios are appealed
to, we have the opinion of one of the greatest word-artists
of antiquity (Demosthenes) that " action " is Tar more than
words.
We are not, of course, to look upon the- imitative signs
of which we have been treating as servile copies of'natural
sounds, or their exact reproductions. Nothing of that kind
is either called for or possible. Inarticulate noises are not




432            OBLITERATION OF THE SIGNS          [LBCIT.
faithfully representable by articulate, nor is more than a dis.
tant likeness needed in the sign that shall suggest and recall
them. The circumstances in which a new word is generated
and used contribute no small part toward its correct apprehension, in the first, as in all the after-stages of linguistic
growth.  The most violent mutilations of form, the most absurd confusions of meaning, committed upon words by very
young children, when just learning to talk, do not prevent
those who are familiar with them from understanding which
of their contracted circle of ideas they are intending to sig.
nify: and many a change almost as violent, or a transfer
almost as distant, has made part of the regular history of
speech, being justified by the exigency that called it forth,
and explained by the suggestive conditions of the case. The
process of language-making was always in a peculiar sense
a tentative one; a searching after and experimental proposal
of signs thenceforth to  be  associated with- conceptions.
There was not less eagerness and intelligence on the-part of
the hearer to catch and apprehend than on that of the
speaker to communicate; the impulse to a mutual understanding was so strong as to make even a modicum of connection between sign and sense sufficient for its purpose.
A wide range of possibilities was thus opened for the designation of any given idea, even though resting upon the same
onomatopoetic ground: as, indeed, the present facts of language show us no little variety and dissimilarity in the con.
fessedly imitative names of the same objects.
That distinct and unequivocal signs of onomatopoetic
action are not abundantly to be recognized among the earliest
traceable constituents of our language is no valid argument
against the truth of that view of the origin of speech which
we have been defending. It has been a common weakness
with the upholders of the onomatopoetic theory, and one
which more than anything else, perhaps, has tended to dis.
credit them and it with linguistic scholars, that they claim to
point out too much in detail, endeavouring to find imitative
etynmologies where a more thorough comprehension of the
facts and a sounder and less prepossessed judgment see an
origin of another and lens immediate character. Bati their




VI ]           CP ONOMATOPOETIC ORIGIN.           4133
doctrine is so impregnably founded in the properly understood facts of linguistic history, and in the necessary conditions and forces of its earliest period, that they can well
afford to be modest, and even reserved, in their attempts to
explain particulars. Always and everywhere in language, as
we have abundantly seen in our earlier inquiries into the
processes of linguistic growth, when once the mutually intelligible sign is found, its origin is liable to be forgotten and
obscured. There was doubtless a period in the progress of
speech when its whole structure was palpably onomatopoetic;
but not a long one: the onomatopoetic stage was only a
stepping-stone to something higher and better.' Especially,
perhaps, was this the case in the language of our own
branch of the human race, whose nobler endowments must
have begun very early their career of superior development.
If we could trace the roots of the other families of language
back to the same remote stage, we might find in some of
them more evident traces of the primal imitative condition;
we may even yet find the same principle dominant to a much
higher degree through the whole history of one or other of
those families than in our own.
How many may have been the individual proposals of
signs which were made ineffectively, to be disregarded or
soon forgotten again, or how many the special signs which
gained a certain currency fn the minor groups of the languagemaking community, but failed to win that general acceptance
which should make them the germs of a, transmitted and
perpetuated language, we do not and cannot know. Nor
can we know how numerous, or of what social constitution,
or in what condition of life, was the community which thus
formed the speech of a linguistic family or of the whole human race; nor how rapid was the accumulation of uttered
words of general intelligibility, nor how great the store
gathered by direct imitative process, nor how long the period
during which they and their like were made to answer the
purposes of communication, anterior to the beginning of
structural development.  On all such topics as these-as we
have found occasion to remark before (in the seventh lecture), when treating of similar subjects-even our guiesses
28




484             REMAINING OBSCURITIES           LLECT,
are now worth nothing, or so nearly nothing as not to deserve
recording. But we have no reason to suppose that any lan.
guage of roots alone was ever otherwise than scanty and
feeble; those are greatly mistaken who imagine that the be.
ginnings. of speech were produced in a profusion, a super.
fluity, which later times have rather tempered down and
economized than increased. We can see clearly also that
the imitative principle, on the one hand, has its natural
limits, and, on the other hand, would soon begin to admit
the concurrence of a new principle of word-making: namely,
the differentiation and various adaptation of the signs already
established in use. There would come a time, before very
long, when a designation of certain ideas would be more
easily won out of existing material than by the creation of
new; and this facility would rapidly increase as the body of
accepted expression was augmented; until finally the condition of things was reached which we find prevailing during
the historical periods of language, when additions to our
store of expression are almost exclusively elaborated out of
modes of expression in previous use, and onomatopoeia is
resorted to only in rare and exceptional cases.
The imitative principle is limited in kind as well as in extent of action, and it may sometime become a practical
inquiry what were the individual conceptions to which the
first signs were fitted. In the present state of advancement
of linguistic science, as also of our knowledge of the earliest
human conditions, such an investigation, though an interesting one, would doubtless lead to no valuable result.
The view of language and of its origin which has been
here set forth will, as I well know, be denounced by many as
a low view: but the condemnation need not give us much
concern. It is desirable to aim low, if thereby one hits the
mark; better humble and true than high-flown, pretentious,
and false. A considerable class of linguistic scholars, fearful
lest they should not otherwise make out language to be a
sufficiently exalted and sacred thing, confound it with
thought, and arrogate to the instrumentality a part of the
attributes which belong only to the agent; thus becoming
involved in inconsistencies and absurdities, or blinding them.




XI.]               OF THEn S-IBLEM.                435
selves and those who depend upon them with mystical dog.
mas, irreducible to the language of fact and common sense.
Mind and its operations are full of real mystery; in language,
there are no mysteries, but only the obscurities and diffi.
culties inseparable from the rise and development of the
oldeat and most important of all human institutions




LECTfURE XIL
Why men lor e can speak. Value of speech to man. Training involved
in the acquisition of language. Reflex influence of language on mind
and history. Writing the natural aid and complement of speech.
Fundamental idea of written speech. Its development. Symbolic
and mnemonic objects.  Picture writing.  Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Chinese writing. Cuneiform characters. Syllabic modes of writing.
The Phenician alphabet and its descendants.  Greek and Latin
alphabets. English alphabet. English orthography. Rank of the
English among languages.
OUR last inquiries, into the origin of language and the
nature of its connection with thought, brought us to conclusions accordant with those we had reached in the course of
our earlier discussions, and foreshadowed by them.  As we
had found before that the only forces immediately concerned
in the growth and changes of language were human, so now
we saw that there was no reason to regard any others as
having borne a share in its origination: in its incipient
stage, no less than in its succeeding phases, speech has been
the work of those whose needs it supplies; it is in no
other sense of divine origin than as everything which man
possesses is a divine gift, the product of endowments and
conditions which are not of his own determining.  As,
further, we had recognized the arbitrariness and conventionality of the means whereby each individual among us signifies
his conceptions to his fellows-namely, utterances learned by
each from those among whom his lot chanced to be cast, he
being forced to speak as they were in the habit of speaking




XI.]              ORIGIN OF LANGU GE.                437
— so now we perceived that the same qualities had attached
from the very outset to the signs chosen for expression;
that, as there is at present no internal and necessary reason
why we employ one particular complex of sounds rather than
another as the representative of a particular idea, so there
had never been any such reason; that words never meant
thoughts, but always simply designated them. It had formerly appeared to us that, although there has been in every
case an etymological reason for a word, this reason is one of
convenience only, founded in the prior acquisitions and
habitudes of the word-makers; efficient, indeed, at the
moment of origination of the word, whose association with the
intended meaning it is instrumental in initiating, but idle
when the association has once been formed, and therefore
soon neglected by the language-users, and often forgotten
beyond power of recovery —and now we were brought to
acknowledge that the very first words had only a similar
reason, being such utterances as the natural endowments and
habits of man, his imitative faculty and his tendency to
exclaim, made the feasible means of arrivin   g at   mutual
comprehension between utterer and listener. Onoma opcia,
in all its varieties of application, thus came in at the outset,
aided and supplemented by tone and gesture, to help the lan
guage-makers to find intelligible signs, but ceased to contro
the history of each sign when once this had become under
stood and conventionally accepted; while the productive
efficiency of the principle gradually diminished and died out
as a stock of signs was accumulated sufficient to serve as the
germs of speech, and to increase by combination and differentiation. Thus, as mutual intelligibility had been before
proved to be the only test of the unity of language, and its
necessity the force that conserved linguistic unity, it was
further demonstrated that the desire to understand and be
understood by one another was the impulse which acted
directly to call forth language.  In all its stages of growth
alike, then, speech is strictly a social institution; as the
speaking man, when reduced to so.'itude, unlearns its use, so
the solitary mnan would never have formed it. We may extol
u  much as we please, without risk of exaggeration, the




138                 WHY MEN ALONE                [LEoi.
advantage which each one of us derives front it within his
inmost self, in the training and equipment of his own powers
of thought: but the advantage is one we should never have
enjoyed, save as we were born members of a community:
the ideas of speech and of community are inseparable.
By thus tracing back, as well as our knowledge and our
limited time have allowed, the course of the history of human
speech even to its very beginning, we have made such answer
as was within our power to our introductory question, " Why
we speak as we do, and not otherwise? " But, before bringing our discussions to a close, it will be well for us, varying a
little the emphasis of our inquiry, to present and consider it
in one or two new aspects.
And, in the first place, why do we speak-we humanl
beings and we alone, and not also the other races of animals
which have been endowed with faculties in many respects so
like our own? The fact is a patent one: although some of
the lower animals are not entirely destitute of the power of
communicating together, their means of communication is
altogether different from  what we call language.   The
essential characteristic of our speech is that it is arbitrary
and conventional; that of the animals, on the other hand, is
natural and instinctive: the former is, therefore, capable of
indefinite change, growth, and development; the latter is
unvarying, and cannot transcend its original narrow limits:
the one is handed down by tradition, and acquired by instruction; the other appears independently, in its integrity,
in every individual of the race. Now, for the superiority of
nlan in this particular, the general reason, that his endowments are vastly higher than those of the inferior races,
though by no means so definite as could be desired, is perhaps the truest and most satisfactory of which the case at
present admits. When philosophers shall have determined
precisely wherein lies the superiority of man's mind, they will
at the same time have explained in detail his exclusive pos.
session of speech. We are accustomed to agree that man is
distinguished from the brute by the gift of reason; but then
we can only define reason as that whereby man is distin.
guished from the brute; for aa to what reason is, how far it




xI.e]             POSSESS LANGUAGE.               439
is a difference of kind, and how far one of degree only, we
are quite at a loss to tell.  To say that the animal is
governed by instinct instead of reason does not help the
difficulty; it is but giving a name to a distinction of which
we do not comprehend the nature. WVherever the line may
require to be drawn between the "blind instinct," as we
sometimes style it, of the bee and ant, and the " free intelligence" of man, that line is certainly long passed when we
come to some of the higher animals-as, for example, the dog.
No one can successfully deny to the dog the possession of an
intelligence which is real, even though limited by boundaries much narrower than those that shut in our own;
nor of something so akin with many of the nobler qualities on
which we pride ourselves. that their difference is evanescent
and indefinable. And anything wearing even the semblance
of intelligence necessarily implies the power to form general
ideas. It is little short of absurdity to maintain, for instance,
that the dog, and many another animal, does not fully apprehend the idea of a human being; does not, whenever it sees
a new individual of the class, recognize it as such, as having
like qualities, and able to do like things, with other indivi.
duals of the same class whom it has seen before. If the crow
did not comprehend what a man is, why should it be afraid of
a scarecrow? And how is any application of the results of
past experience to the government of present action-such
as the brutes are abundantly capable of —possible without
the aid of general conceptions?  To identify reason, then,
with the single mental capacity of forming general ideas, and
to trace the possession of speech directly to this faculty, is,
in my view, wholly erroneous it is part of that superficial
and unsound philosophy which confounds and identifies
speech, thought, and reason. Speech is one of the most conspicuous and valuable of the manifestations of reason; but,
even without it, reason would be reason, and man would be
man, though far below what he was meant to become, and is
capable of becoming through the aid of speech: and there
are many other things besides talking which man can do in
virtue of his reason, and which are out of the power of any
other creature  If we are pressed to say in what mode of




440               VALUE OF LANGUAGE              [LECT
action, more than in any other, lies that deficiency in the
powers of the lower animals which puts language beyond
their reach, we need have little hesitation in answering that it
is the inferiority of the command which consciousness in
them exercises over the mental operations: in their inability
to hold up their conceptions before their own gaze, to trace
out the steps of reasoning, to analyze and compare in a
leisurely and reflective manner, separating qualities and relations from one another, so as to perceive that each is capable
of distinct designation. That many animals come so near to
a capacity for language as to be able to understand and be
directed by it when it is addressed to them by man, was
pointed out in the last lecture; nor can I see that their con.
dition is destitute of analogy with that of very young
children, whose power of understanding language is developed
sooner and more rapidly than their power of employing it;
who learn to apprehend a host of things before they learn to
express them. In respect to speech,.it is very evident that
the distance from the oyster, for instance, which no amount
of training can bring to the slightest apprehension of anything you may wish to signify to it, to the intelligent and
docile dog, is vastly greater than' that which separates the
dog from the undeveloped man, or from a man of one of the
lower and more brutish races.
But once more, why do we speak? what is the final cause
of the gift of language to man? in what way is the possession
of such a power of advantage to us? These inquiries open a
great and wide-reaching subject; one far too great, indeed,
for us to attempt dealing with it, in the contracted space at
our command, otherwise than in the briefest and most superficial manner.  A detailed reply can be the more easily Edspensed with, inasmuch as, on the one hand, the worth of
speech is too present to the mind of every one to need to be
called up otherwise than by a simple allusion; and as, on the
other hand, our previous discussions have brought more or
less distinctly to view the chief points requiring notice.
The general answer, in which is summed up nearly the
whole array of advantages derived from language, is this:
that it enables men to be, as they are intended to be, social




XII.]            TO THE HUMAN RACE.               h41
and not ixerely gregarious beings. As it is the product, so
it is also the means and instrument, of community. It con.
verts the human race from a bare aggregate of individuals
into a unity, having a joint life, a common development, to
which each individual contributes his mite, receiving an untold
treasure in return. It alone makes history possible. All
that man possesses more than the brute is so intimately
bound up with language that the two are hardly separable
from one another; and, as we have already seen, are regarded
by some erroneously, but naturally and excusably, as actually
identical. Our endowments, so infinitely higher than the
brute's, need also, as being so much freer and less instinctive,
to be brought to our knowledge, to be drawn out and educated. The speechless man is a being of undeveloped capacities, having within him the seeds of everything great and
good, but seeds which only language can fertilize and bring
to fruit; he is potentially the lord of nature, the image of
his Creator; but in present reality he is only a more cunning
brute among brutes. There is hardly to be found in the
whole animal creation any being more ignoble and shocking
than those wild and savage solitary men, of whom history
affords us now and then a specimen; but what we are above
them has been gained through the instrumentality of language, and is the product of a slow progressive accumulation
and transmission. If each human being had to begin for
himself the career of education and improvement, all the
energies of the race would be absorbed in taking, over and
over again, the first simple steps. Language enables each
generation to lay up securely, and to hand over to its successors, its own collected wisdom, its stores of experience,
deduction, and invention, so that each starts from the point
which its predecessor had reached, and every individual commences his career, heir to the gathered wealth of an immea.
surable past.
So far, now, as this advantage comes to us from the handing down, through mear s of speech, of knowledge hoarded up
by those who have lived before us, or from its communication
by our contemporaries, we appreciate with a tolerable degree
of justness its nature and val-e. We know full well that we




442               EDUCATION RECEIVED             [LEOED
were born ignorant, and have by hearing and reading pos.
sessed ourselves in a few short years of more enlightenment
than we could have worked out for our own use in many
long centuries; we can trace, too, the history of various
branches of knowledge, and see how they have grown up
from scanty beginnings, by the consenting labour of innumerable minds, through a succession of generations.  We are
aware that our culture, in the possession of which we are
more fortunate than all who have gone before us, is the
product of historical conditions working through hundreds,
even thousands, of years; that its germs began to be
developed in the far distant East, in ages so remote that
history and tradition alike fail to give us so much as glimpses
of their birth; that they were engendered among exceptionally endowed races, in especially favouring situations, and
were passed on from one people to another, elaborated and
increased by each, until, but a thousand years ago, our own
immediate ancestors, a horde of uncouth barbarians, were
ready to receive them  in their turn-and that this whole
process of accumulation and transfer has been made possible
only by means of speech and its kindred and dependent art
of record.  What we are far less mindful of is the extent to
which we derive a similar gain in the inheritance of language
itself, and that this very instrumentality is in like manner
tne gradually gathered and perfected work of many generations-in part, of many races.  We do not realize how much
of the observation and study of past ages is stored up in the
mere words which we learn so easily and use so lightly, and
what degree of training our minds receive, almost without
knowing it, by entering in this way also into the fruits of
the prolonged labour of others. To this point, then, we owe
a more special consideration.
Learning to speak is the first step in each child's education,
the necessary preparation for receiving higher instruction of
every kind. So was it also with the human race; the acquisition of speech constituted the first stage in the progressive
development of its capacities. We, as individuals, have for.
gotten both the labour that the task cost us and the enlightenment its successful accomplishment brought us: the whole




zIn.]           IN LEARNING TO SPEAK.             448
lies too far back ini our lives to be reached by our memories;
re feel as if we had always spoken, as directly and naturally
as we have thought. As a race, too, we have done the same
thing: neither history nor tradition can penetrate to a period
at all approaching that of the formation of language; it was
in the very childhood of our species, and men learned thinking and talking together, even as they learn them now-adays: not till they had acquired through language the art of
wielding the forces of thought, were they qualified to go on
to the storing up of various knowledge. Into a few years of
instruction are now crowded, for the young student, the net
results of as many tens of centuries of toiling after wisdo.m
on the part of no small portion of mankind; and, in like
manner, into the language-learning of the first few months
and years is crowded the fruit of as many ages of languagemaking. We saw in the last lecture that, if two human
beings were suffered to grow up together untaught, they
wouM inevitably frame some means of communication, to
which we could not deny the name of language: but we know
not how many generations would succeed one another before
it could reach a fulness compaarable with that of even the
rudest existing human dialects. Men invent language, their
mental instrument, as truly as they invent the mechanical
appliances whereby they extend and multiply the power of
their hands; but it would be as impossible for a man, or a
generation, to invent a language like one of those which we
know and use, as, for example, to invent a locomotive engine.
The invention of the engine may be said to have begun when
the first men learned how to make a fire and keep it alive
with fuel; another early step (and one to which many a
living race has not even yet ascended) was the contriving of a
wheel; command was won, by degrees, of the other mechan-,cal powers, at first in their simplest, then in their more complicated, forms and applications; the metals were discovered,
and the means of reducing and working them one after
another devised, and improved and perfected by long accu.
mulated experience; various motive powers were noted and
reduced to the service of men; to the list of such, it was at
length seen that steam might be added, and, after many vain




441A          IEDUCATION AND CONSTRAINT           jLEOT,
trials, this too was brought to subjection-and thus the work
was at length carried so far forward that the single step, or
the few steps, which remained to be taken, were within the
power of an individual mind. When one of us now undertakes to invent a language (as in fact happens from time to
time), it is as if one who had been all his life an engineer
should sit down to invent a steam-engine: he does nothing
but copy with trifling modifications a thing which he is
already familiar with; he rearranges the parts a little, varies
their relative dimensions, uses new material for one and
another of them, and so on-perhaps making some improvements in matters of minor detail, but quite as probably turning out a machine that will not work. To call upon a man
who has never spoken to produce a complete language is like
setting a wild Fijian or Fuegian at constructing a power-loom
or a power-press: he neither knows what it is nor what it
will be good for. The conditions of the problem which is
set before the language-makers are manifest: man is placed
in the midst of creation, with powers which are capable of
unlocking half its secrets, but with no positive knowledge
either of them or of himself; with apprehensions as confused,
with cognitions as synthetic, as are those of the lower
animals; and he has to make his way as well as he can to a
distinct understanding of the world without and the world
within him. He accomplishes his task by means of a con.
tinuous process of analysis and combination, whereof every
result, as soon as it is found, is fixed by a term, and thus
made a permanent possession, capable of being farther
elaborated, and communicated by direct instruction. It is
necessary to study out what needs to be expressed, as well
as the means of its expression. Even the naming of concrete
objects, as we saw, demands an analysis and recognition of
their distinctive qualities; and to find fitting designations
for the acts and relations of the external sensible world, and
then, by an acute perception of analogies and a cunning
transfer, to adapt those designations to the acts, states, and
relations of the intellectual and moral world within the soul,
was not an easy or rapid process; yet, till this was measur.
ably advanced, the mind had no instrument with which it




XII.]           IN LEARNING LANGUAGE.               445
could perform any of the higher work of which it was capa.
ble. But as each generation transmitted to its successor
what it had itself inherited from its predecessor, perfected
and increased by the results of its own mental labour, the
accumulation of language, accompanying the development of
analytic thought and the acquisition of knowledge, went
steadily and successfully forward; until at last, when one
has but acquired his own mother-tongue, a vocabulary of
terms and an understanding of what they mean, he already
comprehends himself and his surroundings; he possesses the
fitting instrument of mental action, and can go on intelligently to observe and deduce for himself.  Few of us have
any adequate conception of the debt of gratitude we owe to
our ancestors for shaping in our behalf the ideas which we
now acquire along with the means of their expression, or of
how great a part of our intellectual training consists in our
simply learning how to speak.
One thing more we have to note in connection herewith.
The style in which we shall do our thinking, the framework
of our reasonings, the matters of our subjective apprehension,
the distinctions and relations to which we shall direct our
chief attention, are thus determined in the main for us, not
by us. In learning to speak with those about us, we learn
also to think with them: their traditional habits of mind become ours. In this guidance there is therefore something of
constraint, although we are little apt to realize it. Study of
a foreign language brings it in some measure to our sense.
He who begins to learn a tongue not his own is at first hardly
aware of any incommensurability between its signs for ideas
and those to which he has been accustomed. But the more
intimately he comes to know it, and the more natural and
familiar its use becomes to him, so much the more clearly
does he see that the dress it puts upon his thoughts modifies
their aspect, the more impossible does it grow to him to
translate its phrases with satisfactory accuracy into his native
speech. The individual is thus unable to enter into a community of language-users without some abridgment of his
personal freedom-even though the penalty be wholly insignificant as compared with the accruing benefit. Thus, too,




146                USE OF LANGUAGE;                LLBOT.
tach generation feels always the leading hand, not only of
the generation that immediately instructed it, but of all who
have gone before, and taken a part in moulding the common
speech; and, not least, of those distant communities, hidden
from our view in the darkness of the earliest ages, whose
action determined the grand structural features of each tongue
now spoken. Every race is, indeed, as a whole, the artificer
of its own speech, and herein is manifested the sum and gen.
eral effect of its capacities in this special direction of action;
but many a one has felt through all the later periods of its
history the constraining and laming force of a language unhappily developed in the first stages of formation; which it
might have made better, had the work been to do over again,
but which now weighs upon its powers with all the force of
disabling inbred habit. Both the intellectual and the historical career of a race is thus in no small degree affected by
its speech.  Upon this great subject, however, of the influence reflected back from language upon the thought and
mind of those who learn and use it, we can here only touch;
to treat it with any fulness would require deep and detailed
investigations, both linguistic and psychological, for which
our inquiries hitherto have only laid the necessary foundation.
The extent to which the different races of men have availed
themselves of language, to secure the advantages placed
within their reach by it, is, naturally and necessarily, as
various as are the endowments of the races.  With some, it
has served only the low purposes of an existence raised by
its aid to a certain height above that of the brutes, and remaining stationary there. Their whole native capacity of
mental development seems to have exhausted itself in the
acquisition of an amount of language even less than is
learned by the young child of many another race, as the first
stage upon which his after-education shall be built up. Their
life is absorbed in satisfying the demands of the hour; past and
future are nothing to them; the world is merely a hunting.
ground, where means of gratifying physical desires, and of
lengthening out a miserable existence, may be sought and
found; its wonders do not even awaken in their minds a
sense of a higher power; the barest so(ial intercourse, per.




IV1.]           COMPLETED BY WRITIXG.               447
petuation by instruction of the petty arts of living; and the
scantiest adaptation to the changes of external circumstances,
are all they ask of the divine gift of speech. Through such a
condition as this we may suppose that all human language
has passed; but while in parts of the world it still stays there,
and gives no prospect of a higher development except through
the influence and aid of races of better gifts and richer acquisitions, it shows elsewhere every degree of progression,
up even to the satisfaction of the wants of an advanced and
advancing culture like our own, where the knowledge of the
past, aiding the understanding of the present and preparing
for the future, is laid up in such abundant store, that he
who studies longest and deepest, and with most appreciative
and inquisitive industry, hardly does more than realize better
than his fellows how little he can know of that which is
known; how short is life, compared with the almost infinite
extent of that series of truths, the infinite variety of that
complication of cognitions, which life puts within our reach,
and whose apprehension constitutes one of the highest and
noblest pleasures of life.
Such full development as this, however, of the uses and
advantages of speech would be impossible by the instrument.
ality of spoken speech alone; it demands a farther auxiliary,
in the possession of written speech. The art of writing is so
natural a counterpart and complement of the art.of speaking,
it so notably takes up and carries farther the work which
language has undertaken on behalf of mankind, that some
consideration of it is well-nigh forced upon us here: our
view of the history and office of language would otherwise
lack a part essential to its completeness. Speech and writing
are equally necessary elements in human history, equally
growing out of man's capacity and wants as a social and an
indefinitely perfectible being. He would be, without language, hardly man at all, a creature little raised above the
brutes; without the art of record, his elevation would soon
find its limits; he could never become the being he was
meant to be, the possessor of enlightenment, the true lord of
nature and discoverer of her secrets. Language makes each
community, each race, a unit; writing tends to bild to



448                 BEGINNINGS OF THE                [L!UT.
gether all races and all ages, forcing the whole of mankind
to contribute to the education and endowment of every
individual.  Moreover, there is in many respects so close a
parallelism and analogy between the histories of these two
sister arts, that, were it only for the value of the illustration,
we should be justified in turning aside for a time to follow
out the growth of letters.
As in the case of language, it may be remarked, so also in
that of writing, we hardly realize, until we begin to investi.
gate the subject, that the art has had a history at all. It
seems to us hardly less " natural" to write our thoughts than
to speak them: such is the power of educated habit, that we
take both alike as things of course. But what we have above
shown to be true of spoken language is still more palpably
and demonstrably true of written; it was a slow and laborious
task for men to arrive at the idea and its realization: more
than one race has been engaged in the work of elaborating
for our use the simple and convenient means of record of
which we are the fortunate possessors; many have been the
failures or only partial successes which have attended the
efforts of portions of mankind to provide themselves with such
means. As it is impossible to trace the history of our own
alphabet back to its very beginning, some review of those
efforts will be our best means of inferring what its earliest
stages of growth must have been, and will prepare us to
understand what it is, and what are its advantages. *
We have first to notice that the force which impels to the
invention of writing, which leads men to represent thought
by visible instead of audible signs, is the desire to communi.
cate to a distance, to cut expression loose from its natural
limitation to the personal presence of him whose thought is
expressed, and make it apprehensible by persons far away,
Even the intention of record, of conveying the thought to a
distance in time also, making it apprehensible by generations
to come, shows itself only secondarily, as experience suggests
* In drawing up this sketch of the history of writing, I have to acknowledge my special obligations to Professor Steinthal's admirable essay on the
Development of Writing (Die Entwickelung der Scerift), published at Berlin,
id 1iS12 (8vo, pp. 113).




Xr1.]               ART OF WRITING.                 449
such use; and as for the advantage which the individual him.
self derives from recording his thought, so as to be able to
con it over, to apprehend it and its relations more distinctly,
as well as that ether incalculable advantage which the
individual and the race derive from the transmission and accumulation of knowledge by this means-these are matters
which are still farther from the minds of the earliest invent.
ors.  Here is a first most notable analogy between the
histories of spoken and written speech: the satisfaction of a
simple social impulse, arising out of the ordinary needs
of intercourse between man and man, brings forth by degrees
an instrumentality of supreme importance to the progress of
the whole human race. The earliest writers, like the earliest
speakers, wrought far more wisely than they knew.
Again, the conveyance of thought by means of writing was
not primarily conceived of as a conveyance of the spoken lan.
guage in which the thought would be expressed: it dealt
immediately with the conception itself, striving to place this
by direct means before the apprehension of the person addressed. Speech and writing were two independent ways of
arriving at the same end. We may add that, so long as it
remains in this stage, writing is a tedious and bungling
instrumentality; the great step towards its perfection is
taken when it accepts a subordinate part, as consort and
helpmate of speech.
A first feeble effort toward the realization of the fundamental object of writing is to be seen in the custom-not
infrequent at a certain period of culture, and even retained
in occasional use among peoples of every grade of civilization
-of sending along with a messenger some visible object,
symbolical of his errand, and helping both to authenticate
and to render it impressive. Thus, the prophet Jeremiah
(Jeremiah, ch. xix.) is directed to take an earthen bottle and
break it before the ancients of his people, to signify the sud.
den and irremediable destruction with which he is to threaten
them.  Thus ambassadors and heralds in ancient times were
charged with the delivery of something typical of the peace
or war they were sent to proclaim. And the knight's glove,
thrown down in defiance and taken up by him who accepts
29




450         SYMBOLIC AND MNEMONIC OBJECTS.         [LEC
the challenge, and the staff still broken in Germany over the
head of the condemned criminal, are instances of the same
general style of instrumentality for expressing meaning.
Objects, too, are used in a more arbitrary and conventional
way, as reminders, helps to the recollection of that which is
communicated orally. So the North American Indian, on
solemn occasions, had his strips of wampum, corresponding
to the heads of the discourse he had prepared; and handed
them  over, one after another, as each announcement was
made or each argument finished, to the person addressed.
We should hardly need to take any notice of a method of
intimation so rude and indefinite as this, but for the development which we know it to have attained, as a practical means
of communication and record, in the usage of one or two
nations.  It received its greatest elaboration in the system
of the quippos, or knotted cords, employed in Peru at the
time of its discovery and conquest. With these cords the
state messengers were provided, and by their numbers, their
colours, their groupings, their style of knotting, they were
made conventionally significant of each one's message, even
to partial independence of his own oral explanation. The
accounts, and, to a certain extent, the annals also, of the
empire of the Incas are claimed to have been intelligibly
kept by means of the quippos.  The Peruvians doubtless
made out of this coarse instrumentality all that it was
capable of becoming; but the essentially low grade of their
capacity and culture is indicated by the fact that they had
risen to the invention of nothing better. The Chinese, too,
curiously enough, have preserved the tradition that their
earliest ancestors wrote by means of knotted cords, until the
mythical emperor Fo-hi devised the beginnings of the better
system of which we shall have presently to speak.
A higher degree of ingenuity, and a greatly superior capacity of progression and development, are to be seen in the
contrivance of a picture-writing.  This, in its simplest
form, is found all over the world, among peoples of a certain
degree of civilization. Let us look at an example furnished by the aborigines of our own country.*
* It is one of those given by Steinthal, who extraets it from Schoolcraft'i
work on the Indian Tribes, vol. i. p. 352.




xmII               PICTURE-WRITING.                431
Two hunters have gone alp the river on an expedition, and
have killed a bear and taken many fish. They endeavour to
commemorate their success, and make it known to whosoever
shall pass that way after them, by a monument raised upon
the spot.  On a piece of wood they draw two boats, and
over each the totem, or symbolic animal, indicating the
family to which each hunter respectively belongs-his surname, as it were. The figures of a bear and of half-a-dozen
fish tell the rest of the simple story. There is here no idea
of a narrative, of an orderly setting forth of the successive
incidents making up an act or occurrence: the whole com.
plex is put before the eye at once, unanalyzed, in the form
in which we might suppose it to lie in the mind of a brute —
or, more properly, as it would lie in the mind of a man destitute of language, and lacking that education in progressive
thought which the possession and use of language give; it
abnegates, in short, the advantages conferred by language,
and is confusedly synthetic, like the conceptions of an un.
taught human being. It offers but one element implying
a possibility of something higher-namely, the totems, which
are signs, not for things, but for the conventional and communicable names of things: here is contained in embryo the
idea of a written language representing speech, and such
might be made to grow out of it, if the picture-writers had
but the acuteness to perceive;t, and the ingenuity to make
the conversion.
The pictorial mode of writing is analogous with that primitive stage of language in which all signs are still onomatopoetic, immediately suggestive of the conceptions they designate, and therefore, with due allowance for the habits and
knowledge of those who use them, intelligible without instruction.  To the most prominent and important difference
between the two allusion was made in the last lecture: in
virtue of the character of the medium through which communication is made, the earliest written signs denote concrete
objects, while the earliest spoken signs denote the acts and
qualities of objects.
One of the American nations, the Mexican, had brought
the art of picture-writing to a high state of perfection,
29 *




452                  XEXICA AND                  [LNO.,
making it serve the needs of a far from despicable civilization.
The germ of a superior development which we saw in the
totem-figures of the Indian depiction was in their use made
to a certain extent fruitful. Every Mexican name, whether
of place ~r person, was composed of significant words,
and could in most cases be signified hieroglyphicallyjust as we, for instance, might signify'Mr. Arrowsmith, of
tlull,' by an arrow and a human figure holding a hammer,
placed within or above the hull of a vessel. So also, the
periods, of greater or less length, which made up their intric.
ate and skilfully constructed calendar, all derived their appel.
lations from natural objects, and were intimated in writing
by the figures of those objects. Thus the Mexican annals
were full of names and dates composed of figures designating
the spoken signs of things; and the idea of a hieroglyphic
method of writing, which should found itself on spoken language, following the progress of oral narration and attempting to signify this alone, lay apparently within their easy
reach; and would, possibly, have been reached in due time,
had the Mexican culture been allowed to continue its career
of progress uninterfered with. Authorities are somewhat at
variance, indeed, as to what was the real condition and character of the Mexican picture-writing at the time of the
Conquest, some holding that it had already become a repre.
sentation of continuous spoken texts. That there was a
quite extensive Mexican literature is certain; but the ignorant fanaticism and superstition of the Spanish conquerors
almost swept it out of existence, destroying at the same
time the key to its comprehension, which has not yet been
fully recovered.
In Egypt, the same beginnings have grown into an institution of quite a different character.  The Egyptian hieroglyphs, in even the very earliest monuments preserved to us,
form a completely elaborated system, of intricate constitution and high development; it undergoes hardly a perceptible
change during all the long period covered by the monumental
records: yet its transparency of structure is such that it
exhibits in no small degree, like the grammatical structure
of the Sanskrit language, its own history.  In its origin and




It.]            EGYPTIAN HIEROGLYPHICS,              453
application, it is peculiarly a commemorative alind monu.
mental mode of writing, and it retains to the last strictly its
pictorial form; every one of its separate signs is the repre.
sentation of some visible object, however far it may be removed in use from being a designation of that object. It is
in this respect like a language which has never forgotten
the derivation of its words, or corrupted their etymological
form, however much it may have altered their meaning. On
the Egyptian monuments are found, accompanied and described by the hieroglyphics, many and various pictorial
scenes-such as kings besieging cities or leading trains of
captives, individuals making offerings to divinities, souls undergoing judgment and retribution, and other the like-all
of which are cast in conventional form, and often contain
symbolic elements: their intent is much more didactic than
artistic; they are meant to inform  rather than to illustrate:
these, then, are with evident plausibility assumed still to repre.
sent the earliest, purely pictorial, stage of Egyptian writing,
corresponding with that illustrated above by an example
furnished by our own aborigines; while the hieroglyphs grew
out of the attempt-also finding its analogue in the totemfigures of that example, and still more filly in the Mexican
delineations-to designate and explain the persons and
actions depicted. The ways in which this end was attained,
and figured signs made indicative of names and abstract ideas,
were various: homonymy and symbolism were both fertile of
characters: thus, the name of the god Osiris, Hesiri, was
written by the two figures of a kind of seat (?), hes, and an
eye, iri; the figure of a basket, neb, signified also neb,'a
lord:' a hand pouring libations from a vase meant' offer in
sacrifice;' an extended hand bearing some object meant ti,'give;' the wallowing hippopotamus denoted'filth, indecency;' and so on.  But the Egyptians showed in this part
of the development of their system a much higher aptitude
than the Mexicans for analytic representation, for parallel.
ing, and then identifying, the process of writing with that of
speaking.  In the first place, they came to be able to write
symbolically such a sentence as "Young! old! God hates
indecency," by the five figures of a child, an old man, a hawk,




a fish, a hippopotamus, placed one after the other, while the
Mexican would have given a synthetic symbolic representa.
tion of the action by a picture of the Great Spirit chastising
an evil-doer, or in some other like way. But, in the second
place, the Egyptian system had taken the yet more important
step-one which, if followed up, would have brought it to
the condition of a real alphabet-of indicating simple sounds,
phonetic elements, by a part of its figures. That such a step
lies not far off from the homonymic designation of a thing by
something which called to the mind the sounds of which its
name was composed, is evident enough; still, no little insight
and tact was needed in order to bridge over and cross the
interval, and we do not apprehend so fully as we could desire
the details of the movement. It appears, however, that the
figure of an object was first made to designate some other
conception whose name agreed with its own in the consonantal elements, to the exclusion of the more variable vowels;
and then, by a farther abstraction, instead of designating
thus a part of the phonetic elements of its own name, it
came to signify the initial element only, whether consonant
or vowel. For example, the figure of a lion, labo, is used to
represent i; that of an eagle, ahom, to represent a. Proper
names are written almost exclusively in this style of characters, and the decipherment of the names Ptolemy and
Cleopatra on the inscription of the famous Rosetta stone, as
set down distinctly in pure phonetic signs, was the first step
in our recovery of the key to the hieroglyphs. In ordinary
texts, the phonetic, homonymic, and symbolical characters
are intricately mingled, variously aiding, explaining, and supplementing one another's meaning.  Thus, the signs for
Osiris (Hesiri), already given, are always accompanied by
the figure of a peculiar hammer or hatchet, which some un.
known reason has made one of the standard symbols of
divinity; the verb ti,' give,' having been once written phonetically, has the symbolic outstretched arm with gift added
by way of farther explanation; and so on.
In monumental, and to some extent also in literary use,
the hieroglyphs maintained, as already remarked, their picto.
rial form unaltered, as lcng as the kingdom and civilization




xIT.]              MODES OF WRITING.                 45
Df Egypt tad an existence: reverence for ancient custom, as
wtll as their peculiar adaptedness to the purposes of archi.
tectural decoration, to which they were so largely applied,
prteserved them  from  corrupting change.  But how easily,
ittaller the exigencies of familiar practical use, a true alphabet:light have grown out of this cumbrous, long-winded, and
i rlicate mode of writing, is shown in the history of its two
(ieri-ative forms, the hieratic, and the demotic or enchorial.
The former, the hieratic, is simply an abbreviated and cursive
style of hieroglyphic, in which each figure is represented by
a part of its outline, or otherwise so altered as to be hardly
recognizable. It was the common written character of the
priests and sacred scribes, from a very early period. The
demotic was a still later adaptation of the same, and has lost
all relics of a pictorial character, being composed of a limited,
though large and unwieldy, -number of arbitrary signs, chiefly
phonetic. What farther improvement and reduction toward
a true alphabetic form the demotic might in time have undergone, we cannot tell. For G0reek influence and Christianity
came in to interrupt the regular course of development;
the Christian Coptic literature, casting aside the native
modes of writing, adopted a new alphabet, founded upon the
Greek.
The history of writing in China, although its final products
are in appearance so different from the Egyptian hieroglyphs.
goes back to a very similar origin. The Chinese themselves,
with that love for historical research and record and the
explanation of subsisting institutions which has always 4istinguished them, have set down for our benefit all the steps
of the process by which their immense and unique system of
signs has been elaborated out of its scanty beginnings; and
both product and process present more numerous and striking analogies with spoken language and its growth than are
to be found anywhere else in the whole history of written
characters. We have already noticed the Chinese tradition
that their earliest ancestors used knotted cords as a means of
communication and record. Their first written signs were
no development out of these, but a substitution for them.
They were, like the Egyptian hieroglyphs, simple pictures of




456                   THE CHINESE                 [L%=
the objects represented: such are, in fact, the beginnings of
every system of written signs for thought, not less necessarily
than onomatopoetic utterances, designating acts and qualities,
are the beginnings of every system of spoken signs. Thus,
the sun was denoted by a circle with a point within, the
moon by a crescent, a mountain by a triple peak, a tree and
a man by rude figures representing their forms, and so on.
Signs were provided thus for a considerable number of
natural objects; those, namely, which are most familiarly
noted and most easily depicted.  But such cannot supply
otherwise than in small part the needs of a written language,
any more than onomatopoetic signs those of a spoken language.  Their store was notably increased by the compounding of two or more simple signs; as the vocabulary of
a language by the composition of spoken elements. For
example, the signs for' mountain' and'man,' put together,
signified' hermit;' those for'eye' and'water' signified'tear;' those for'woman,''hand,' and'broom,' meant'housekeeper.' A simple symbolism often came in to aid,
both in the case of single and of compound signs. A banner
pointing one way signified' left;' the other way,'right;'
an ear between two doors gave the meaning of'listen;'' sun' and' moon,' taken together, indicated' light;'  mouth'
and' bird' made up'song,' and so on.  This is equivalent
to the transfer of meaning of a word, effected through a
simple association. But the most abundant means of multiplication of the resources of Chinese expression was found in
the introduction of a phonetic principle, and the combination
of phonetic and ideographic elements into a compound sign.
The language, as we saw in the ninth lecture, is full of
homonyms, words identical in phonetic form but of different
meaning: a sign being found for a word in one of its many
senses, either by direct representation or by symbolism, the
device was very naturally suggested of making the same sign
answer for some of its other meanings also, by the aid of an
appended diacritical sign. It was quite as if we, for instance,
had learned to signify sound in " safe and sound " symbolically by a circle (as being peculiarly the complete, unbroken
figure), and had then suffered it to represent the same




x11.1              MODE' OF WarI,1G.               457
phonetic compound in its other senses, distinguishing each
by some suggestive mark: thus, adding an ear on either side
might make it signify'sound, audible noise;' a sign for'water' written within it would intimate the meaning of'sound, an arm of the sea;' a depending line and plummet,
that of'sound, to try the depth of anything.' For example,
there is in China a certain simple sign having the pronuncia.
tion pe, and meaning' white' (what the object represented
is, and in virtue of what property it was chosen to signify
this conception, is now no longer known); then, with the
sign for'tree' prefixed, it means'pe, a kind of cypress;'
with the sign for'man,' it means'pe, elder brother;' with
the sign for'manes,' it means'pe, the vital principle in its
existence after death;' and so forth.  Some signs are thus
very extensively used to form compound characters, in connection with various others that bear a phonetic value in the
compound; two of those already instanced are among the
most common of them: the sign for'man' enters into nearly
six hundred combinations, all denoting something that has a
special relation to man; that for'tree' enters into more
than nine hundred, which denote kinds of trees, wood and
things made of wood, and such like matters. Their analogy
with the formative elements of spoken language is very
evident; they are signs which limit the general value of the
phonetic radical, putting it in a certain class or category of
meanings.
The Chinese mode of writing, unlike the Egyptian, has
been ready to forget and lose sight of its hieroglyphic origin,
to convert its characters, when once the needed association
was formed between them and their significance, into sigts
wholly conventional, bearing no traceable resemblance to the
objects they originally depicted, and made liable to any.modifications which practical convenience, or a sense for
symmetry, or mere fancy, should suggest anl recommend.
In this, again, it offers a manifest analogy with what we have
repeatedly shown to be the legitimate and laudable tendency
of spoken language. The characters have passed through a
variety of transitional forms on their wav to that in which
they are at present ordinarily written, and which was itsell




468                CHINESE WRITING.              [LECT.
established more than a thousand years since: some of these
intermediate forms are still preserved in monuments and
ancient documents, and to a certain extent even now em.
ployed for special uses-as the older phases of many a spoken
tongue are kept to the knowledge of posterity by like
means; and as a Frenchman, for example, of the present day
may clothe his thoughts, upon occasion, in an Old French or
a Latin dress.  Their current shape has been determined
mainly by the customary instruments of writing and the
manner of their use-these have exercised all the modifying
and adapting force which in a spoken tongue belongs to a
powerful euphonic tendency, like that which has made all
Italian words end in vowels, and has worn off from French
vocables the syllables which followed after the accented one
in their Latin originals. And so thoroughly has their hiero.
glyphic origin been covered up and concealed by these trans.
formations that no one, from their present aspect, would
venture even to conjecture that they had started from outlines of natural objects; nor would the older preserved
documents suffice to prove this; the truth lay only within
reach of the Chinese themselves, as having access to tradi.
tional information from yet more ancient times.  We have
no right to be surprised, then, if the onomatopoetic beginnings of speech, dating from a period compared with which
the origin of Chinese writing is but as yesterday, are no
longer to be distinctly traced in the worn and altered facts
of such language as is now accessible to our researches.
Another set of causes has powerfully influenced the development of the Chinese written expression: namely, the
poverty of the spoken tongue, and the felt need of giving it
an aid and support from without. The system of signs com.
bines a phonetic and ideographic nature in a manner
peculiarly its own. It is rather an auxiliary language, than
a reduction of speech to writing. It supplies the defects
and removes the ambiguities of the language it represents;
it might be learned and used without any regard paid to its
phonetic equivalents; and if the Chinese were but willing to
forego converse by the tongue and ear, substituting for them
the hand and eye, it would answer the purposes of their




rII.]           CUNEIFORM CHARACTERS.               459
communication vastly better, with its forty thousand signs for
ideas, than the spoken means now chiefly employed, with its
scant thousand or two. While the uttered vocabulary of the
Chinese is one of the poorest in the world, their written one
is eminently rich and abundant. This farther analogy with
spoken languages it has, that, as was in the first lecture
(p. 18) shown to be true of the latter, only a part of its
resources are required for the ordinary uses of life: not
more than eight or ten thousand of its characters are otherwise than very rare, and all common needs are supplied by
fiono three to five thousand.
One more important mode of writing is said to be distinctly traceable to a hieroglyphic origin: namely, the
cuneiform, the character of the monuments of Mesopotamia
and the neighbouring countries.  Its signs are made up of
various combinations of wedge-shaped elements: hence the
name "cuneiform" (from Latin cuneiformis,'wedge-shaped');
they are also sometimes called "arrow-headed characters,"
from  the same peculiarity.  There are several different
cuneiform alphabets, the older of them being exceedingly
intricate and difficult, made up of phonetic, ideographic, and
symbolic signs, variously intermingled; and sometimes farther complicated, it is said, with combinations which were
phonetic in the language for which they were originated, and
have been transferred to the use of another with their old
meaning, but a different spoken value (somewhat, as has been
pointed out, as we write viz., an abbreviation of Latin
videlicet, and read it " namely "). Much that regards the his.
tory and relations of the different systems of cuneiform cha.
racters is, and may always remain, obscure: but it is confidently claimed that evidences are found which prove their
beginnings to have been pictorial; and the peculiar form of
their component elements is fully recognized as a consequence
of the way in which they were originally written-namely,
by pressure of the corner of a square-ended instrument upon
tablets of soft clay; theme being afterwards dried or burned,
to make the record permanent. That, through such inter.
mediate steps even as these, a hieroglyphic system  may
finally pass over into one truly alphabetic, is shown by the




460                3YLLABIC METHODS,              [LECT.
derivation from the Mesopotamian cuneiform of the Persian,
which is by far the simplest and the best understood of all
the systems of its class, being purely phonetic and almost
purely alphabetic.  It contains about thirty-five signs of
simple sounds, some of those for the consonants being partially of a syllabic character-that is to say, being different
according as the consonant was to be followed by one or another vowel. In this simpler cuneiform are written the
Achaemenidan inscriptions, of which we have already more
than once had occasion to take notice, as preserving to us an
Indo-European dialect.  The history of its formation is unknown.
I have called the Achtemenidan cuneiform a partially syllabic mode of writing; and syllabic systems have played so
important and prominent a part in the general history of
writing-in the main, traceably as derivatives from methods
of a different character-that it is necessary for us to pay
them here a littie special attention. A pure syllabic alphabet is one whose letters represent syllables, instead of artieulations; which makes an imperfect phonetic analysis of
words, not into the simple sounds that compose them, but
into their syllabic elements; which does not separate the
vowel from its attendant consonant or consonants, but denotes both together by an indivisible sign. Such an analysis
is more natural and easy to make than one which distin.
guishes all the phonetic elements-especially in the case of
languages of a simple structure, which do not favour difficult
consonantal combinations, and therefore make up but a limited
number of syllables.  Many times, accordingly, when some
race has made acquaintance with the art of writing as practised by another, and, instructed and incited by the latter's
example, has set about representing its own spoken tongue
by written signs, it has fallen first upon the syllabic method.
One of the most noted alphabets of this kind is the Japanese
kata-kana, or irofa (so called from  the names of its first
signs, like alphabet, from alpha, beta), to which we have
already once had occasion to allude (in the ninth lecture):
it was made out of fragments of Chinese characters, and con.
tained forty-seven different signs, one for each of the ayi.




xII.]          ANOIENT SEMITIC ALPHABET.            &61
lables of which the Japanese words were made up: for the
bpoken alphabet of the language then included only ten
consonants and five vowels, and no syllable contained more
than one vowel, with a single preceding consonant. A
similar alphabet was devised for the Cherokee language, not
many years ago, by an ingenious member of the tribe, George
Guess, who, though he had never learned to read English, had
seen and possessed English books, and knew in general what
was their use: it contained eighty-five signs, mostly fashioned
out of English letters, though with total disregard of their
original value.
Another and a less pure form of syllabic alphabet is that
which treats the consonant alone as the substantial part of
the syllable, and looks upon the vowel as something of subordinate consequence-as it were, a colouring or affection of
the consonant. In its view, then, only the consonant has a
right to be written, or to be written in full; the accompanying vowel, if taken note of at all, must be indicated by some
less conspicuous sign, attached to the consonant. Peculiar
and arbitrary as this mode of conceiving of the syllable may
seem to us, it is historically of the highest importance; for
upon it was founded the construction of the ancient Semitic
alphabet, which has been the parent of the methods of writing
used by the great majority of enlightened nations, since the
beginning of history. It is not difficult to see how the character of Semitic language should have prompted, or at least
favoured, such an estimate of the comparative value of vowel
and consonant. In Semitic roots and words (as was explained
in the eighth lecture), the consonants are the principally significant, the substantial, element; the vowels bear a subordinate office, that of indicating, as formative elements, the
modifications and relations of the radical idea; the former are
stable and invariable, the latter liable to constant change.
Perhaps we should not be going too far, if we were to say that
only a language so constructed could have originally suggested
such an alphabet.  Be this as it may, the ancient Semitic
alphabet-of which the Phenician is the generally accepted
type, being, whether original or not, its oldest traceable form
-was a system of twenty-two signs, all of them possessing




~62                PHENICIAN ALPHABET             [ELOI
consonantal value: three, however-namely, the signs for the
semi-vowels y and w, and for what we may call the " smooth
breathing "-partaking somewhat cf a vowel character, and
being under certain circumstances convertible illto representatires of the vowels, i, ut, and a.
The Phenician alphabet was thus strictly and exclusively
a phonetic system, though one of a peculiar and defective
type. We cannot possibly regard it, therefore, as an immediate and original invention; it must have passed, in the
hands either of the Semites themselves or of some other people,
through the usual preliminary stages of a pictorial or hieroglyphic mode of writing. 5More probably, its elements were
borrowed from one or another of the nations, of yet earlier civilization, by whom we know the Semitic races to have been surrounded, before they entered on tl 9,ir own historic career. The
traditional names of its characters are tLe recognizable appellations of natural objects, and each name has for its initial letter
that sound which is designated by the character: thus, the sign
for b is called beth,' house;' that for q, gimel,' camel;' that
for d, daleth,'door;' in some cases, moreover, a degree of resemblance is traceable between the form of the letter and the
figure of the object whose name it bears.  This, so far as it
goes, would evidently point toward that application of the
hieroglyphic principle which, as we saw above (p. 454), made
the figures of the lion and eagle represent in Egyptian use
the letters 1 and a. The subject of the ultimate history of
the Phenician alphabet, however, is too obscure and too much
controverted for us to enter here into its discussion; investigations of it have reached hitherto no satisfactory results.
The diffusion which this alphabet and its derivatives have
attained is truly wonderful. From it come, directly or in.
directly, the three principal Semitic alphabets, the Hebrew,
the Syriac, and the Arabic, the last of which has gained
currency over no inconsiderable part of the Old World, being
employed by nations of diverse race, Indo-European (Persian,
Afghan, and Hindustani), Scythian (Turkish), and Polynesian
(Malay): while the Syriac has spread, through the Uigur
Turkish, Mongol, and Manchu, to the farthest north-eastern
Asia. The eastern Iranian and the Indian alphabets have




xli.]             AND ITS DERIVATIVES.                4%
been traced, though more doubtfully, to the same source; and
India, especially, has been a home where it has developed into
new and richer forms, and whence it has been extended over
a vast region, in Asia and the islands lying southward from
Asia-reaching at last, in its remote derivatives, conditions as
unlike to the original and to one another as are the late
dialects of a widely disseminated family of languages. In
nearly all these countries, through all its various metamorphoses, it has held fast, in the main, to its primitive character
of a consonantal alphabet, with omission, or with partial or
subordinated designation, of the vowels. But in its progress
in the other direction, toward Europe, it fell first into the
hands of the Greeks; and from them it received its final perfection, by the provision of signs enabling it to represent tho
vowels not less distinctly than the consonants. In the Greek
alphabet, for the first time in all our review of the history of
written speech, we find realized what we cannot but regard as
the true ideal of a mode of writing-namely, that it be simply
a faithful representation of spoken speech, furnishing a visible
sign for every audible sound that the voice utters, not attempt.
ing to distinguish any class of sounds as of more importance
than another, nor to set itself up as an independent instru.
mentality for the conveyance of thought by overpassing the
limits of utterance, and assuming to give more or other than
the voice gives in speaking.
From the Greek alphabet have been derived, by modifications and adaptations of greater or less consequence, several
others, used by peoples of each of the grand divisions of the
eastern continent-as the Coptic of later Egypt, already
referred to, and the Armenian; the runes of some of the
Germanic tribes also, and the early Celtic modes of writing,
trace their origin back to it, mainly through the Latin; as
does the modern Russian, the most ungainly and unsymmetricai, perhaps, of all its descendants.  But the Latin alphabet
itself is bevond all comparison the most important of its
derivative forms. The Greek colonies of southern Italy were
the means of bringing Greek letters to the knowledge of the
inhabitants of the peninsula, and several of the Italian nations
-the Etruscans, Umbrians, and Oscans, as well as the Latins




&64A             THE GREEK ALPHABET.               [LEOT.
— provided themselves with alphabets derived from the Greek.
All these excepting the last have passed away, along with the
nationalities and languages to which they belonged; but the
Latin alphabet has become the common property of nearly all
the enlightened nations of modern times whose civilization is
derived from that of Greece and Rome; while, under European
influence, its use has also extended and is extending among
the races of inferior endowments and culture, even crowding
out, to some extent, their indigenous and less convenient
modes of writing.
Our examination of the history of writing might here
properly enough be closed; yet the particular interest which
we take in our own alphabet will justify us in delaying a
little, to note the principal steps of the process by which it
has been derived from the Phenician-so far, at least, as it is
possible to do this without graphic illustration. We shall
also thus see more clearly how a borrowed system is wont to
be modified and expanded, in passing frorn the service of one
language into that of another. There is never a precise
accordance between the phonetic systems, the spoken alphabets, of any two languages, so that a written alphabet which
suits the one can be immediately applied to the other's uses;
and hence the history of every scheme of characters which has
won a wide currency, among various nations, presents a
succession of adaptations, more or less wisely and skilfully
made.
The chief change wrought upon the Phenician alphabet by
the Greeks consisted, as has been already pointed out, in the
provision of signs for the vowels. The Semitic tongues, as compared with the Greek, were characterized by an excess of
guttural and sibilant sounds: the superfluous signs representing these, then, were put to divers new uses in Greece; our
A, E, and 0 were to the Phenicians designations of certain
guttural breathings, having the value of consonants; the semivowel y being wanting in Greek, its sign was greatly altered
and simplified to form our I; the sign for w was retained by
the early Greeks as the digamma (though abandoned later);
for u, they invented a wholly new character, V or Y (which
are by origin only varying graphic forms of the same letter),




ni.]              THE L TTIN ALPHABET.               465
The other Greek alterations and additions may be passed over,
as of less account.
The Latin alphabet was taken from one of the older forms
of the Greek, before the characters of the latter had assumed
in all points the form and value with which we are most
familiar-when the H, for example, had still its value as a
breathing, and had not been converted into a long e. The
system of spoken soundt for which the Latin required written
representatives was but a simple one: to the fifteen articulations which, as we saw in the seventh lecture (p. 265), had been
the primitive possession of the Indo-European family, it had
added but three, the medial vowels e and o, and the labial
spirantf (it had, indeed, the semivowels y and w also, but did
not distinguish them in writing from the vowels i and u, with
which they are so nearly identical: I and J, U and V, are but
graphic variations of the same sign). Nearly all the Latin
letters are the same with the Greek, or differ from them only
by slight diversities of form: but one or two points of discordance need a word of explanation. The Latin system is
most peculiar in rejecting the K, which was found in every
Greek alphabet, of whatever period or locality, and in writing
both its k and g sounds at first by a single letter, C, the
ancient sign for the g-sound only: then, when it came to itself, and felt again the need of a separate designation for each,
it knew no better than to retain the C for the k-sound, and to
add a diacritical mark at its lower end, making a G, for the
purpose of denoting the corresponding sonant, g. By a somewhat similar process of transfer, we have come to write the
p-sound by the sign, P, which formerly belonged to the r:
when the older sign for-, r, had assumed a shape so nearly
agreeing with the P that the two were not readily distinguished
from one another, a tag was hung upon the crook of the latter
as a further diacritical mark, and it was thus made into R.
For the f-sound, the ancient sign for w, the Greek digarmma,
F, was somewhat arbitrarily adopted, its only special recommendation being that both w and f were labials. The Q
represents an old Phenician letter, a deeper guttural than k,
rejected by the later Greek alphabets as superfluous —and
really no better than superfluous in the Latin, where the pro30




466             THE ENGLISH ALPHABET.            [LE
nuncition of the k-sound before it did not differ enough from
its pronunciation before a and o to call for an independent
notation. Of the remaining three Latin letters, the X is a
Greek invention (used in some Greek alphabets also with its
Latin value, or representing xi, instead of chi), and, as standing for the double sound ks, not less needless than Q; Y and
Z are later importations out of the Greek alphabet, and used
only in Greek words, to signify peculiar Greek sounds (the
Greek upsilon having by this time changed its value of u for
that of the French u, German ii).
The changes which we, in our turn, have introduced into
the Latin alphabet, in adapting it to our purposes, are not insignificant, although far from being enough to make it represent our spoken language as fully and consistently as it
formerly did that of the Romans.  Besides the eighteen
articulations of the early Romans, we have (as was shown
above, in the third lecture) at least fourteen others which
call more or less imperatively for separate designation. There
are the a of cat and care, the a of what and all, and the iu of
cut and curl; there are the two semi-vowel sounds, y and w,
the palatal nasal (which we commonly write with ng, as in
singing), the three sibilants, z, sh, and zh (the z of azure), the
two sounds of th, in thin and thine, and the v of valve; and,
finally, the compound consonants ch (in church) and j (in
judqe).  Some of these needs we have managed to provide
for: we have turned the two forms of the Latin i, I and J,
into two separate letters, with very different values; we have
done the same thing with the two forms of u, V and U, converting the former into a sign for the sonant labial spirant;
by doubling the same character, we have made one wholly
new letter, w, for the labial semi-vowel; and we have utilized
y and z, as semi-vowel and sonant sibilant. We have also
brought k back into its old place-yet without perceptible
gain, since its introduction makes c superfluous; k, c, and s
having but two sounds to designate among them. The new
characters which the Anglo-Saxons had devised for expressing
the two th-sounds we have unfortunately suffered to go out
of use again. And q and x are still as useless to us as they
were of old to the Romans. Hence, we have virtually only




XII.]            ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY.                467
twenty-three letters wherewith to write at least thirty-two
sounds. In the process of phonetic change, whose tendency
is always toward the increase of the spoken alphabet, the filling up of the system of articulated sounds by the distinction
of slighter and more nicely differentiated shades of articulation, our spoken alphabet has very notably outgrown the
limits of our written alphabet.
To this cause are to be attributed, in part, the anomalies of
our orthography. But only in the lesser part. If an alphabet
is hardly able to enlarge itself to the dimensions of a growing
body of sounds, it is because men do not easily learn to write
their words otherwise than as they have been accustomed to
do, even when they have learned to pronounce them otherwise
-and the same cause operates in other ways yet more effectually to bring about a discordance between the spoken and
the written language. It has been the misfortune of the
English to pass, during its written period, through the most
important crisis in its history, its mixture with the Norman
French, also a written tongue: not only were the discordant
orthographic usages of the two thus forced together within
the limits of the same language, but a period of both ortho6pic
and orthographic confusion was introduced-and the orthographic confusion has been, in great measure, only stereotyped, not remedied, by the usage of later times.
We of the present age have thus been in a measure deprived, not by our own fault, of the advantages belonging to a
phonetic mode of writing-advantages which seemed to have
been secured to us by the joint labours of so many races and
so many generations. And yet, we are not altogether without
fault in the matter, for we are consenting unto the deeds of
our fathers and predecessors. As a community, we are not
content with accepting as inevitable our orthographical inheritance, and resolving to make the best of it, despite its
defects; we even defend it as being better than any other;
we strive to persuade ourselves that an etymological or a historical mode of spelling, as we phrase it, is inherently preferable to a phonetic. Now it is altogether natural and praiseworthy that we should be strongly attached to a time-honoured
institution, in the possession of which we have grown upt
80 *




468                   AOMALIES OF         [         E,.
and which we have learned to look upon as a part of the sub.
sisting fabric of our speech; it is natural that we should love
even its abuses, and should feel the present inconvenience to
ourselves of abandoning it much more keenly than any plo.
spective advantage which may result to us or our successors
from such action; that we should therefore look with jealousy
upon any one who attempts to change it, questioning narrowly his right to set himself up as its reformer, and the
merits of the reforms he proposes. But this natural and
laudable feeling becomes a mere blind prejudice, and justly
open to ridicule, when it puts on airs, proclaims itself the defender of a great principle, regards inherited modes of spelling
as sacred, and frowns upon the phonetist as one who would
fain mar the essential beauty and value of the language.  Of
all the forms of linguistic conservatism, or purism, orthographic
purism is the lowest and the easiest; for it deals with the
mere external shell or dress of language, and many a one can
make stout fight in behalf of the right spelling of a word
whose opinion as to its pronunciation even, and yet more its
meaning and nice application, would possess no authority or
value whatever: hence it is also the commonest, the least
reasonable, and the most bigoted. When it claims to be as.
serting a principle, it is only defending by casuistry a prejudice; it determines beforehand to spell in the prevailing mode,
and then casts about to see what reasons besides the mode it
can find for doing so, in each particular case. It overwhelms
with misapplied etymologic learning him  who presumes to
write honor and favor for honour and favour (as if it were
highly desirable to retain some reminiscence of the French
forms, honneur and faveur, through which we have derived
them from the Latin honor andfavor), and then insists just as
strongly upon neighbour (which is neither French nor Latin),
it is not more concerned to preserve the I of calm (Latin
calmus) than that of could (Anglo-Saxon cudhe: the l has
blundered in, from fancied analogy with would and should),
theg of sovereign (Old-English soveraine, French souverain,
Italian sovrano) than that of reign (Latin regnum), the s of
island (Anglo-Saxon. ealand) than that of isle'Old-French
isle, Latin insula); it upholds such anomalies as women, which




Xfl.]            ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY.                469
offends equally against the phonetic and the etymological
principle (it comes from Anglo-Saxon w~/f-men).  How much
better were it to confess candidly that we cling to our modes
of spelling, and are determined to perpetuate them, simply
because they are ours, and we are used to and love them, with
all their absurdities, rather than try to make them out inherently desirable! Even if the irregularities of English
orthography were of historical origin throughout-as, in fact,
they are so only in part-it is not the business of writing to
teach or suggest etymologies.  We have already noted it as
one of the distinguishing excellencies of the Indo-European
languages, that they are so ready to forget the derivation of a
term in favour of the convenience of its practical use: he,
then, is ready to abnegate a hereditary advantage of his mode
of speech, who, for the sake of occasional gratification to a
few curious heads, would rivet for ever upon the millions of
writers and readers of English the burden of such an orthography. The real etymologist, the historic student of lan.
guage, is wholly independent of any such paltry assistance,
and would rejoice above measure to barter every "historical"
item in our spelling during the last three hundred years for a
strict phonetic picture of the language as spoken at that distance in the past. Nor do we gain a straw's weight of advantage in the occasional distinction to the eye of words which
are of different signification, though pronounced alike: our
language is not so Chinese in its character as to require aid
of this sort; our writing needs not to guard against ambiguities which are never felt in our spoken speech; we should
no more miss the graphic distinction of meet, meat, and mete
of riqht, write, and rite, than we do now that of the two
cleave's and paYe's, the three or four found's and sound's, or
the other groups of homonyms of the same class.
It may well be the case that a thorough reform of English
orthography will be found for ever impracticable; it certainly
wi'l be so, while the public temper remains what it now is.
But let us at any rate acknowledge the truth, that a reformation is greatly to be desired, and perhaps, at sorme time in the
future, a way will be found to bring it about. If we expect
and wish that our tongue become one day a world-language,




470           DESTINY AND CHARACTER OF          [LECT,
underatood and employed on every continent and in every
clime, then it is our bounden duty to help prepare the way
For taking off its neck this heavy millstone. How heavy,
we are hardly able to realize, having ourselves well-nigh or
quite forgotten the toil it once cost us to learn to read and
speak correctly; yet we cannot help seeing how serious an
obstacle to the wide extension of a language is a mode of
writing which converts it, from one of the easiest in the
world, into one of the hardest, for a foreigner to acquire and
use.
The English is already, perhaps, spoken and written as
mother-tongue by a greater number of persons than any other
existing dialect of high cultivation; and its sphere seems
to be widening, at home and abroad, more rapidly than that
of any other.  If it ever becomes a world-language, it will
do so, of course, not on account of its superiority as a form
of human speech-since no one ever yet abandoned his own
vernacular and adopted another because the latter was a
better language-but by the effect of social and political conditions, which shall widen the boundaries of the Englishspeaking community.  Yet we cannot but be desirous to
convince ourselves that it is worthy of so high a destiny.
To trust our own prepossessions upon this point may be very
easy and comfortable, but is not quite safe. The universal
tendency among men to exaggerate the advantages of their
own mode of speech and depreciate those of others would
make us, in spite of our sincere attempts at impartiality,
more than just to our beloved mother-tongue-even though
we might be willing to allow that, as all advantages cannot
be found united in one individual, each of its rivals among
the cultivated dialects of the present or of the past may surpass it in one or another respect. It does not lie in our
way to take up the matter seriously, inquiring and deter.
mining what is the absolute rank of the English among languages; yet it may be worth while to give a few moments'
consideration to one or two points that bear upon the
question.
We have, in the first place, already had occasion to notice
that a language is just what the people to whom it belongs




XmI.]          THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.              471
have made it by their use; it is the reflection of their minds,
and of their minds' contents; its words and phrases are instinct with all the depth, the nobility, the subtilty, and the
beauty that belongs to their thought; it can be made to express at least as much, and as well, as it has been made to
express. A literature, then, is one grand test of the worth
of a language-and it is one by which we need not fear to see
tried that of our own.  It is not national prejudice that
makes us claim for English literature, in respect to variety
and excellence, a rank second to none.  We can show, in
every or nearly every department, men who have made our
English tongue say what no other tongue has exceeded.
This is not, however, the only test. We cannot but ask
also how our language is fitted to admit and facilitate that
indefinite progress and extension of thought and knowledge
to which we look forward as the promise of the future. Has
it all the capacity of development which could be desired for
it? In their bearing upon this inquiry, two of its striking
peculiarities-the two most conspicuous, in the view of the
historical student of language-call for special notice:
namely, its uninflective or formless character, and its composition out of two somewhat heterogeneous elements, Germanic and Romanic.
Both these peculiarities have been made the subject of repeated reference in our discussions hitherto. For its poverty
in formative elements, for its tendency to monosyllabism, for
its inclusion of many parts of speech in the same unvaried
word, we have compared English more than once with
Chinese. But we must beware of misapprehending the
scope and reach of the comparison. There is a curious and
suggestive analogy between the present geographical position
of the English and Chinese races and the present character
of their languages.  Since our occupation of the whole
breadth of the American continent, the speakers of these two
tongues look over to one another as nearest neighbours
across the intervening Pacific.  But the situation of the
Chinese people is the result of simple quiescence in their
primeval abode; while the English, setting forth probably
from the depths of the same Orient, have reached the seats




472                  CHARACTER OF                 [EmCT.
they now occupy, in the sequel of an adventurous and conquering career which has led them around nearly the whole
earth, and leaves them masters of many of its fairest portions,
under the most varied skies. The virtual distance between
the two is therefore almost world-wide; it is to be measured
by the course which the English race has traversed, rather
than by the distance which still separates its outposts from
China.  So the English language, starting in that monosyllabism which the Chinese has never quitted, has made the
whole round of possible development, till its most advanced
portions have almost come back again to their original state;
but it still holds in possession much of the territory over
which it has passed, and is dowered with all the wealth
which it has gathered on its way; it has passed through all
stages and varieties of enrichment, and has kept fast hold of
their most valuable products. It is therefore in its essential
character as far removed from the Chinese as is the Greek.
Its resources for the expression of relations, for the sufficient
distinction of the categories of thought, are hardly inferior
to those of the tongues of highest inflective character: they
are of another kind, it is true, but one which, if it has its
disadvantages, has its advantages as well.  Our analytic
flection has a practical value equivalent to that even of the
rich synthesis of the classical tongues; and in this respect
also we need confess to no disabling inferiority, as compared
with the speakers of other cultivated languages.
That, again, the English is a mixed tongue, may not be
denied.  There has not been that assimilation of its two
elements which is the natural result of a complete fusion.
The length of our words of Latin origin, as compared with the
Saxon, is a plain external indication of this: take anywhere
a page of English, and you will find that its Saxon words
average less than half as long as those of other derivation.
What would have been the natural tendency of the language
with respect to these long forms is shown by its treatment
of words borrowed earlier from the classical tongues: thus,
it has worked down moneta into mint, kiiriake into church,
presbiiteros into priest, eleejnosiine into alms, and so on. Only
the specially conservative forces of learned culture and the




uXI.]          THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.               473
habit of writing have saved many others of our sesquiped.
alian Latin elements from a like fate. We have, then, in a
certain sense, two languages combined: one of root-words,
prevailingly monosyllabic; the other of long derived forms,
whose roots and derivation are in the main unrecognizable
by the mass of speakers: and the latter must often lack something of that freshness and direct force which belong to the
former. But, on the one hand, we have seen above (toward
the end of the third lecture) that the etymological connections of a word are, after all, of very subordinate consequence
in determining its degree of significant force and suggestiveness; and, on the other hand, there has been, to no small extent, a real amalgamation of our two vocabularies, the Germanic and Romanic: among the words, mainly Saxon, which
answer the commonest and simplest uses of communication,
there are not a few also of Latin origin; and some Latin
suffixes are familiarly added to Saxon themes, as well as the
contrary. Our Latin words thus range from the extreme,of
homeliness and familiarity to the extreme of learned stateliness, and furnish the means of attaining a great diversity of
styles. At the same time, the partial Romanization of our
language throughout its whole structuie renders it possible
for us to naturalize more thoroughly, and use more adroitly,
the words which, in common with all other tongues of enlightened nations at the present day, we are obliged to import
in great numbers for the designation of objects and relations of learned knowledge. Richness of synonymy, variety
of style, and power of assimilation of new learned material,
are, then, our compensation for whatever of weakness may
cling to our language by reason of the discordance of its
constituent elements.
Our general conclusion must be that, if the English is not
entitled to all the exaggerated encomiums which are sometimes heaped upon it, if it has no right to be set at the
head of all languages, living or extinct, it is at least worthy
of all our love and admiration, and will not be found unequal to anything which the future shall require of it-even
should circumstances make it the leading tongue of civilized
humanity. For what it is to become, every individual who em.




474                  CONCLUSION.
ploys it shares in the responsibility.  The character of a
language is not determined by the rules of grammarians and
lexicographers, but by the usage of the community, by the
voice and opinion of speakers and hearers; and this works
most naturally and effectively when it works most unconsciously. Clear and manly thought, and direct and unaffected
expression, every writer and speaker can aim at; and, by so
doing, can perform his part in the perfecting of his mother.
tongue.
With these few words respecting our own language, which
must be the subject of highest interest with every student
of language to whom it is native, I bring to a close our consideration of the subject of these lectures, thanking you for
your kind and patient attention to my exposition of it, and
hoping that what I have said may not be without effect in
helping you to clear apprehensions of the nature and history
of one of man's noblest gifts and most valuable acquisitions




ANALYSIS.
LECTURE I.
1. ]Rcurr date of linguistic science; its preparatory stages; reasons of thei
failure; modern conditions favoring its development.
3. Establishment of the Indo-European family of languages; of the comparative
method of linguistic study; aid afforded by the Sanskrit.
3. Birthplace of the science; scholars and works mainly instrumental in its
progress; its clailn to the title of science.
4. Field and scope of the science; its relation to other modes of the study of
language; its aims.
I. Interest of the scientific study of language; importance of speech to man;
value of its study to ethnology and history.
6. What is undertaken in these lectures; sketch of their argument; method to
be followed.
7. Comprehensive inquiry of the linguistic student; first form in which it is put.
8. The English language learned by its speakers; early steps of the process;
illustrations; distinctions, classifications, and positive knowledge acquired
along with words.
9. Passive attitude of the learner; disregard of etymologies; relation of the ac.
quired sign to the idea it represents.
10. Our mother-tongue not acquired by inheritance; illustrations.
11. Advantage involved in learning language, rather than making it.
12. What kind of English we thus learn; local peculiarities of speech; their per.
sistency; influences correcting them.
13, How much of English we learn; the child's vocabulary; extent of the whole
English tongue; the part of it acquired by different classes; the part left un.
acquired; differences of individuals as regards power and style of expression.
14. 3ifferences of individuals as regards the meanings attached to words; errors
of acquisition and application; imperfection of language as representative of
thought; variation of meaning, in different classes of words; verbal disputes.'6. Respects in which each one's English differs from that of other3, what the
English language is; what gives it unity.




476                            ANALYSIS.
16. How the language is kept in existence; aid rendered by literature; the pAr(
used and transmitted by individual speakers and writers.
17. Alteration of the language in the process of transmission; difference of out
English from Shakespeare's; from Chaucer's; from Anglo-Saxon; the change
unintended by those who made it.
18. Change in vocabulary; its reasons; its different rate in different parts of th,
vocabulary; examples; its necessity; it consists in losses as well as adJitions
19. Change in the form of words; imperfection of traditional transmission 3f
language, in children and in older persons; currency of bad English.
20. Tendencies leading to this kind of change; examples: silent letters; altered accent; new verbal forms; new words; altered grammatical value, etc.
21. Present persistency of English- its former rapid inmtation; historical causes
22. Universal value of the main results of these inquiries; what every language is, how acquired, how kept in life, how changed; what is a living
language; change the fundamental fact in all language.
LECTURE II.
1. REVIEW: principal topics of the preceding lecture.
2. In what way language exists; how it is maintained or modified.
3. False views upon this subject; incidents adduced in their support.
4. Futility of the argument from these incidents; how and why a potentate,
or other individual, cannot make language; how he can do so; examples
of words thus made or altered.
5. What confers authority to make language, and under what restrictions; examples from technical vocabularies; change in the general language; usage
the rule of speech.
6. Examples of conscious discussions of the proprieties of speech; considerations
determining the decision.
7. Changes of form and structure, how brought about; examples.
8. Influences and conditions favoring, or opposing, the change of language,
action upon it of individuals, and of the community; aim of the individual.
9. Analogy between language and an organism; between its life and that of the
animal kingdom; between linguistic science and geology.
10. Abuse of these analogies; what language is, and how produced and changed
11. The study of language a historical science; its relation to other sciences; its
fundamental difference front the physical sciences.
12. Unartificial character of the facts and aspects of language studied by us;
their objective value; real foundation of the analogies with physical science
other motives of the claim that linguistics is a physical science; their groundlessness; true scientific character of the study.
13. Return to the fundamental inquiry of linguistic science; new form in which
it is put; historical investigation of a historical product.
14. Etymology the foundation of the science; its processes to be illustrated.
15. Analysis of words into their component parts; ordinary compounds; their
value; unity and independence given them.
16. Closer compounds with origin obscured; with origin effaced.




ANALYSIS.                               477
17. Compounda with subordinated element; examples of subordinated elementsa
or suffixes: -fal; -less; -ly, its history; -ship; -d of the preterit, its history.
18. Inferences as to the growth of words; their soundness.
19. Further examples: -ple; am and is.
20. Genesis of suffixes, or formative elements, in general.
21. Accumulation of suffixes about one root; universality of formative ele.
ments in our language.
I3. Importance of the analytic process in etymology; its value as the retracing
of a prev'ous synthesis; how far this is a matter of proof, and how far of inference; reason why it is so; certainty of the inference
LECTURE III.
1. REVIEW: results of our inquiries hitherto.
2. Universality of corrupting change in language; principal tendency underlying
it; economy of effort in utterance.
3. The sphere of corruption widened by composition of elements; examples.
4. Reason of the alterability of words; oblivion of etymology in favor of convenient use.
5. Examples of forgotten etymologies with form unchanged; with form somewhat changed.
6. Valuable action of phonetic change in making formative elements and producing grammatical forms.
7. Destructive effect of the same tendency; its alteration of linguistic structure.
8. Mutilation and taal loss of verbal endings, in Latin, Gothic, Anglo-Saxon,
English.
9. Effacement of declensional forms; what is left of them in English.
10. Gender: its aspect in the older languages; its abandonment in English..1. Substitution of one mode of formal distinction for another; English irregular
plurals; their origin.
12. Irregular verbal conjugation in English: its origin, development, and present aspect.
13. Origin of the later, or regular, conjugation of English verbs; its extension
to irregular verbs.
14. Extension to their present prevalence of our possessive and plural endings.
15. Extensible character of formative elements; mobilization of new words by
their means; historical mixtures thus produced.
16. Loss, by phonetic corruption, of valuable distinctions; examples in verbal
conj ugation.
17. Li:ss of distinctions of meaning; shall and will; obsolescence of subjunctive
1t. Change of form by conversion of one articulated sound into another.
A;. Agencies instrumental in producing articulate sounds; example of their
uction,fi.iendly; its elements; accent; distinction of syllables.
30. Compatibility of articulate sounds with one another; degrees of pronounceableness, in the same or in different languages; wherein euphony consists.
11. Physical scheme of English spoken alphabet; its series and classes; distinal
tion of vowel and consonant; of sonant and surd articulations.
12. Ordinary conversions of one sound into another: exchange of surd and




178                             ANALYSIS.
sonant of sounds of the same series; of sounds of the same class; irregular
conversions; assimilation.
23. Variability of vowel-sounds; resulting irregularity of English orthography.
24 Relation of the student of language to phonetic changes; their efficient
causes out of his reach; peculiar usages of different languages; ascribable to
no other causes than habit and caprice of speakers.
25. Grimm's law of consonantal mutation in Germanic language; the phenomenon unexplained; partial analogies for it.
26. Loss of words out of language; its causes; where it most occurs; disap.
pearance of ancient English vocabulary.
27. Processes of change hitherto treated external; processes of internal change;
interest of the latter; relation of the two kinds; necessity and universality of
internal change.
28. On what the possibility of internal change depends; examples of internal
and external change.
29. Ill'istrations of the processes of names-giving: moon, lune, sun; their deri.
vatiot~ extension, and various application.
30. Further examples: smith and Smith; Ccesar.
31. The two fundamental methods of names-giving; their varieties.
32. Variety of meanings of the same word; examples, board, post, head, cour.,
examples of notable divergence of meaning: become, kind and like, second.
83. Ambiguity of words; in what consists clearness of expression; never fully
attainable.
34. Different words with kindred meaning; synonyms; their insufficiency.
35. Variation of form accompanying variation of meaning; examples.
36. Development of intellectual and abstract from physical and concrete meaning; examples, from Latin and Germanic parts of our vocabulary.
37. Attenuation of meaning; production of relational words, connective, substantive verb, etc.
38. Phrases; change of meaning in them; in combinations.
39. Change of meaning in formative elements; reduction of independent words
to the value of such elements; verbal auxiliaries: do; have, its variety.{ use;
signs of infinitive and possessive; prevalence of this class of words i I some
modern languages.
40. Variety of meanings in the derivatives of one root; fertility and va xly cf
the resources of expression.
41. Degrees of reflectiveness in the processes of names-giving; devising oe a At-%
minology; the most essential part of language-making unconscious; lJeivlo,
ment of expression; internal enrichment of a vocabulary; its corresporidexznz
with the knowledge and capacity of its users; power of individuals over it.
42. Form-making always unreflective and gradual.
43. Every act of language-making the work of speakers; antecedency cf t'
conception to its expression; what is meant by this; example.
44. Every name'as a historical reason, founded in convenience; derivettin:what etymology undertakes; example.
15. The etymological reason neither necessary nor permanent; rsage tie sbo
authority for a name.




ANALYSIS.                               479
16. Why we study the history of words; how they illustrate human history
examples of words and their historical reasons.
17. Intrusion of etymological reminiscences  a detriment to the practical use
of language; their oblivion essential to its development; their on asional
rhetorical value.
1', ITse, not etymology, makes the significance of a word; our comprehensif r,vqd pends.r t of etymological aid; relation of speech to thought.
LECTURE IV.
I lNE'VIEW  of the ground passed over: processes of external and Interna.
gr)wth of language.
2. Variations in the rate of linguistic change, in different tongues and times.
3. Influence of' external circumstances on rate of change; imaginary illustrative
cases; correspondence of the language and mental furniture of a people.
4. Differences in the kind of linguistic change; change of vocabularv; possible
effect on structure.
5. Change at present in English; call for it; infusion of new knowledge into old
words; adaptation of familiar expressions to new and more precise uses.
5. Growth of English by combination and derivation; its restricted sphere; mobilization of words; its apparatus hardly admits of increase.
7. Importation of classical material into English; circumstances favoring it;
learned character of the new knowledge; convenience and general use of this
mode of word-making; its prominence in our use; pedantically learned English.
8. Historical causes changing the mode of growth in English; nature of the
obstacle to internal development.
9. Influences checking the structural decay of languagei reflective use; literature and education.
10. Effect of conservative influences when limited to a class; divergence of a
learned and a popular dialect; dead languages; conservatism and purism.
11. Prospects of modern cultivated dialects; tendency of English in America.
12. Remaining difficulties of the problem; peculiarities of national character;
appeal to physical and physiological causes vain; in what way alone physical
causes can become operative; their mode of action as yet undetermined.
13. Dialectic differences; what a process of linguistic growth is; mutual a tion
of individuals and communities the foundation of dialectic history.
14. Diversifying tendencies in linguistic growth; their origin, the diverse action
of ildividuals.'5. Unifying influence of communication; object of speech; necessity of mutuL
nnderstanding the restraint upon indefinite alteration.
J. IJnity of speech necessary in a community; what this implies; variabl)
meanillg of community; parts of language belonging to communities within
communities; authority for change in each.
i7. Causes which favor diversification of language; their external character,
want of culture.
18. Influences preserving unity of speech; culture; literature.
19 Production of utity of speech out of diversity; examples; Fnglish provincial,




480                             ANALYSIS.
Ism; colonies; immigrants into America; effacement and productior Df di
lects alike universal
20. History of the Germnan language: its ancient dialects; their various change;
their condition in more recent times; early High-German cultivated dialects,
uprise of the present one; influence of the Reformation, printing, Luther's
writings; its increasing power; its possible future; limits to its extension.
21 Similar history of other cultivated dialects: French; Provencal; Italian.
32. History of the Latin: its original seat; its kindred and neighbors; its spread;
upon what dependent; speech of Romanized Italy; further extension, through
southern Europe; resulting group of Romanic tongues.
23. Popular speech of the empire; fate of the classical Latin; development of varyintg dialects; local disturbing causes; new national and cultivated tongues.
24. N aturalness of the convergence and divergence of dialects; results of the
fusion of communities; the Latin, the Frankish, the Norse, in Gaul; the Saxon, the Norman, in England; their fusion, and its result.
25. Dialects in England; their effacement in the transfer to America; assimilation to the cultivated dialect; uniformity of English speech in America; influences contributing to it.
26. Agreement of the English of Britain and of America; its imperfection; dangers threatening it, and influences to be relied on to maintain it.
27. Dialects in America; their range and degree; difference of colloquial and
literary language.
28. The terms dialect and language interchangeable; transmutation of species
in linguistic history.
LECTURE V.
1. REVIEW of the topics treated in the preceding lecture.
2. Error of regarding dialects as the progenitors, rather than descendants, of unl
form speech.
3. In what the differences of related dialects consist; production of these differences by varying linguistic change; examples, verity, attend, true,father, is
4. General inference from such facts; fallacy of the opposing view; causes of the
greater uniformity of human language in modern times.
5. Dialectic variation found within the limits of every language; differences of
its descendants not the product of this, but additions to it.
6. Cultivation of a language; what it effects, and how; economy in speech;
what a cultivated language is.
7 Dialectic differences and their causes of one and the same kind through all
linguistic historvy; necessary inference from linguistic correspondences; allowance for acc-Seletal resemblances and borrowing.
S Classification cflanguages by their relationship; next task to be undertaken
q Relationship or English; unity of its dialects; its connection with languages
of Germany; historical explanation cf this.
t( The three divisions of Germanic l nguage; their inferred origin and descent.
1. Connection cf part of our vocat-sAlary with the Romanic languages; its hit
torical ground.




ANALYSIS.                              481
12. Connection of Germanic and Romanic languages with one an, ther and with
other languages; why to be expected.
13. Other European tongues related to ours; Greek; Celtic, its former extent and
present representatives; Slavonic, its domain and chief branches; Lithuanic.
14. European languages of other kindred.
15,. Asiatic tongues related to ours: Iranian; Indian.
11  } amily of languages thus made up; its names; relations of its members.
17. Evidence of the unity of the family; most conveniently exhibitable in certair
classes of words; why this is so; illustrations.
18. Examples of correspondences of Indo-European words: numerals, pronouns,
words of relationship.
19. V alue of these correspondences; they cannot be the result of accident or or
borrowing; theory sometimes put forward to explain them; its untenability;
mixture of languages very slow to affect such words as those selected; slowest
of all to affect grammatical structure.
20. Correspondences of grammatical structure in Indo-European speech; personal endings of verbs.
21. The correspondences given specimens merely; only possible. way of accounting for them.
22. Original home of the language unknown; even the latest movements of the
Indo-European races quite obscure; their several appearance in history.
23. Linguistic evidence as to the home wanting; futility of inference from superior primitiveness of certain languages; inter-connections of the Branches still
doubtful; conflicting views respecting them; the general question insoluble.
24. Time of Indo-European unity undeterminable; latest admissible date;
recent discoveries bearing upon the antiquity of man.
25. Partial restoration of the original common vocabulary; legitimacy of inferences from it as to condition of its speakers.
26. Inferences so derived: mode of life, possessions, arts, social constitution, and
religion of the Indo-European mother-trioc.
LECTURE VI.
X. REVIEW; survey of the branches of Indo-European language; our next task a
more detailed survey.
2. Divisions of Germanic branch; Low-German group; English and its direct
ancestors; Frisian; Old Saxon; their fate; Netherlandish; Flemish.
3. High-German group; its three periods; their date, ruling dialects, and.itera
tures.
4. Scandinavian group; Icelandic records; their date and importance; modern
Scandinavian dialects.
5. Extinct groups; Ulfilas's Bible-version; Moeso-Gothic; its importance.
6 Slavonic branch; Church Slavic; Russian; other dialects of the south-eastern
group; principal languages of the western group.
7. Lit;.uanic group; its relation to Slavonic; source of its interest; its dialects.
8. Celtic branch; its present narrow dimensions; its decay and probable extirnlc
tion. Celtonmania.
31




4.82                            ANALYSIS.
9. Earliest Celtic records; their date and character; other Gadbelic dalectb
Cymric dialects; Welsh literature; Cornish; Armorican.
10. Romanic branch; its members; date of their early records.
11. Romanic tongues representatives of the Latin; age of the Latin; othe trelated
dialects of ancient Italy; Italic group; false theories as to origin of Latin.
12. Greek; its earliest monuments; its dialects, their date and early records;
modern Greek.
13. Iranian branch; cuneiform inscriptions; the Avesta and its language; Pehlevt
Parsi; modern Persian language and literature; character of modern Persian.
14. Languages allied to Iranian; Armenian, etc.
15. Indian branch; part of India occupied by it; modern Indo-European dialects
of India; Gypsy language; Prakrit and Pali; their relation to the Sanskrit.
16. Present position of the Sanskrit; its two dialects; character of the classical
Sanskrit; its literature and chronology; Vedic dialect; date of the Veda; its
value to the study of Indo-European antiquity.
17. Character of the Sanskrit; unfounded claims in its favor; its defects and
advantages; source and degree of its value to Indo-European philology.
18. Sources of the interest attaching to the study of Indo-European language; its
relation to ourselves; historical importance of the race speaking it.
19. Entrance of the Indo-European race into history; rise to importance of the
several branches, Persian, Greek, Roman, Germanic; Semitic interference;
present position of the race.
20. Legitimacy of the historical title to interest; intrinsic superiority of IndoEuropean speech.
21. Connection of Indo-European philology with the science of language; its
grounds; antiquity and variety of Indo-European dialects, as compared with
Chinese, Egyptian, Hebrew; with other tongues.
22. Advantage to the student in possessing connected dialects of varied structure
and different age; what he can do without them; with variety only of contemporary dialects; illustrations; superior advantage offered in Indo-European
language; the latter the basis of linguistic science; but not its whole material.
23. End sought by the linguistic student; material and method of his search;
historical character of his investigations; qualities needed in the etymologist.
24. Difficulties of etymological study; waste of mind in its false pursuit.
25. The comparative method; its grounds; comparative philology.
26. Abuses of the comparative method; miscellaneous comparison; comparison
of distantly related tongues without regard to intermediate forms; examples;
comparison of languages unrelated.
27. Cumulative nature of evidences of relationship in language: process of its
establishment.
28. Difference of modern etymologizing from ancient; qualities demanded l7y
it; its two fundamental principles.
29. Comparison of lists of words; its insufficiency as means of ling-aiatic research,
30. Limitation of linguistic study to a comparison of words, its error; what is
involved in the history of a w,)rd; example.
Il. Unlimited scope of the comparative method.




ANALYSIS                               483
LECTURE VII.
1. REVIEW: importance of Indo-European language, and method of its Ins ot.
gation; next subject of inquiry.
2. Degree of our knowledge of the history of Indo-European speech.
3. Processes of linguistic growth; their possible future effect; question as to theii
beginning; reply to it.
t Ground of our knowledge concerning beginnings of speech; examples of recent
English combinations; inference as to all formative elements; authority of
analogical evidence in language.
5. Analysis of irrevocability; its nucleus; original independence of the latter,
6. Primary and secondary suffixes; how far they differ and agree.
7. Indo-European roots; their value; original monosyllabism of Indo-European
speech.
8. Primd facie objections to this view; humbleness of such beginnings; their
insufficiency.
9. The two classes of roots; pronominal roots; their office, application, derivativeo
classes, number, structure; examples.
10. Verbal roots; their number, structure, and office; examples; nature of thuir
significance.
11. The theory of roots as the beginnings of language, whence derived; controversy as to first words; as to relation of the two classes of roots.
12. Question as to absolute originality of recognized roots; examples of apparent
English roots, really derivative; of Indo-European roots of the same character,
caution necessary on this head.
18. Original roots analogous, at least, with those we trace; value of all forms of
more than one syllable; other supporting considerations: earliest inflections;
difference of a primitive and a derived monosyllabism; scanty alphabet of
first Indo-European language; its development.
14. First forms, how made; first verbal tense; genesis of its endings; their relics
in English.
15. Other tenses; the augment; reduplication; traces of the latter in Germanic.
16. Moods; future tense; reflexives and passives; derivative conjugations;
special theme of present and imperfect.
17. Reductions and extensions of verbal inflection, in Greek, Latin, Germanic.
18. Genesis of nouns and noun-forms: nouns without suffix of derivation; most
immediate derivatives from roots; suffixes of derivation; their origin.
19. Endings of declension; relations indicated by them: case - Indo-European
cases and their signs; number; gender - character and origin of grammatical
gender.
t0. Reduction of declensional system in'modern languages, as to numbers ease,
and gender.
1i. Declension of adjectives and pronouns; relation of substantive and adjective.
kJ2 Other parts of speech: adverbs, their derivation; prepositions their primitive
aue and origin; conjunctions; articles; interjections.
23. Development of Indo-European language; its early date: its slow and grad




484                              ASNALYSIS.
ual plogress, reasons ot this; rate acceleratedly rapid, up to a maximum in
pre-historic time.
A4. Objection, hence drawn, to theory of primitive monosyllabism; progress ox
modern tongues toward an analytic structure.
25. Weakness of the objection; joint action of synthetic and analytic tendencies
the latter not always the stronger in historic times; illustrations; character o
Russian.
36. True form of the luestion involved; modern analytic forms do not disprove
growth of older syr.thetic; habit determines the preponderance of either tend.
ency; reasons for the climax of synthetic habit; for the later prevalence of
analytic; general conclusion.
27. Renan's doctrine of the antecedency of synthesis; his confusion of synthetic
conception with synthetic style of expression, which as really implies menta.
analysis as does analytic expression.
28. Steady progress of linguistic growth, without sudden shift or break; baselessness of the theory that language-making and history exclude and succeed
one another: necessity of rigorous method in reasoning from known conditions
of language back to unknown.
LECTURE VIII.
1. REVIEW, next subject; its connection with what precedes.
2. Wider value of results drawn from history of Indo-European speech; things
true of all language.                                         *
3. Linguistic families, on what evidence established; their uncertain boundaries;
doubtful languages,
4. Abnormal effacement of material signs of relationship; introduction of evidence derived from structure; its possible value.
5. Structural characteristics of Indo-European language; its combinations; their
closeness; its inflective character; wherein this consists.
6. Semitic family; its locality; other names for it; its chief members.
7. Semitic history: Phenicians and their activity, Semitic empires in Mesopo,
tamia; their records; importance of Hebrew historyv; rise and fall of Arab
greatness.
S. Branches of Semitic language and their literatures.  Canaanitic branch;
Hebrew, ancient, Rabbinic, and modern; Samaritan; Phenician remains:
Cathaginian.
9 Aramaic branch: Jewish Chaldee; Christian Syriac, ancient and modern;
Nabatean.
10 Arabic branch: Himyaritic remains; Ethiopian dialects; Arabic, earliest
records; spread of the Arabic; its infusion into other tongues.
U1. Characteristics of Semitic speech: its inflective type; what this implies; its
triliteral roots and internal flection; illustration; affixes and derivation.
l.  Peculiarity of Semitic inflection; analogies for it in Indo-European language
their fundamental difference; hints at a partial explanation of it; attempts to
resolve the roots into m:nosyllables; difficult, Vf the problem.




ANALYSIS.                               485i
13. Semitic verb,  its numbers, persons, tenses, moods, derivative conjulgations;
Semitic nouns their declension; substantive verb.
14. Semitic syntax; development of meaning; general character of the language,
15. Relations of the'Semitic dialects; persistency of their structure; its reasons;
difficulty of combination; comparative primitiveness of the dialects; character
of modern dialects.
16. Semitic dialect of Assyria; asserted connection of Semitic with certain lan
guages of Africa; with Indo-European languages; its insufficient grounds.
17. General value of Semitic language; erroneous opinions as to the Hebrew.
18. Scythian family: its territory; other names for it; its brancnes.
19. Ugrian branch: its position and divisions; Samoyedic branch.
20. Turkish branch: historic career of the Turks; divisions of the branch; rely.
tion of their dialects.
21. Mongolian branch: its conquests; its present condition and territory.
22. Tungusic branch: its situation and divisions; the Manchus in China.
23. Nature of Scythian activity; literatures of the Manchus and Mongols; of
the Uigurs, and the Jagataic and Osmanli Turks; of Hungarians; of Finns.
24. Asserted Ugrian dialect of Assyrian monuments.
25. Uncertainty of the tie connecting the Scythian branches; possible explana.
tions of their discordance; their correspondence morphological rather than
material; their agglutinative type; meaning and value of this.
26. Scythian structure: derivation by suffixes; invariable roots; harmonic
sequence of vowels; regularity and complication of inflection.
27. Scythian declension; conjugation, as illustrated from  Turkish; imperfect
distinction of nouns and verbs; syntactical construction.
28. Differences of structure among the Scythian branches; their present classification provisional.
LECTURE IX.
1. REvIEW: the families of language already treated.
2. Partial uncertainty of genetic classification; our knowledge of some families
imperfect; differences of investigators and their results.
3. Doubt as to unity of the Scythian family; the so-called Turanian family; it(
worthlessness; origin of the name.
4. Dravidian group of languages; its territory; its principal dialects; their situs.
tion and culture; structure of Dravidian language; its relation to Scythian.
5. Languages of north-eastern Asia: the Japanese; its structure, dialects, literal
ture, and writing; Corean; Kurilian; Kamchatkan; other languages of ex.
treme north-east: their relation to problem of origin of American population.
6, Monosyllabic languages; their grade and mode of structure; illustrations,
Chinese and English; comparative phrases; relations of the monosyllabic
tongues to one another; evidence of their unity.
T. China: antiquity, persistency, and value, of Chinese culture; its decay; Con,
fucius, his work; Chinese literature.
S. Character of Chinese language; phonetic form, number, and office of ite
words; their written signs; grouping of its words; classifiers and signs of parts
of speech, approach to agglutination; value of the Chinese.




486                            ANALTSIS.
9. Languages of Farther India; their culture and character; larguage of tb
Himalaya; Tibetan language and literature.
10. Malay-Polynesian family: its extent; culture among its languages; their
unity; their phonetic structure; roots; inflection of verb ind noun.
11. Melanesian languages; tribes speaking them; their diversity; their structure  Languages of Australia.
12 Eg3 p)tian language: antiquity of Egyptian culture; its monuments and records; their decipherment; Coptic; hieratic and demotic Egyptian.
t3. Other African languages, claimed to be akin with Egyptian; Hamitic family.
14. Structure of Egyptian language; poverty and ambiguity of its forms; gender,
claimed relationship of Harnitic and Semitic languages.
15. Languages of the rest of Africa; difficulty of their treatment; South-African
family; its prefixes; inflection of nouns and verbs; clicks; their derivation.
Languages of the middle of the continent.
lb Languages of America: difficulties of the problem they present; American
culture; isolation of the dialects; variety of external conditions; peculiar
changeableness; modern date of our knowledge.
17. Probable unity of American language; its polysynthetic structure; what is
meant by this; traces of it elsewhere; other evidences of relationship.
18. Discordance of material in American languages; principal groups in North
America.
19. Question of derivation of American aborigines; futility of attempting its
settlement at present; what we have first to do; wild theories upon the subject; claims upon us of the study of American language and archaeology.
20. Isolated languages: the Basque; its place, character, and possible value;
Etruscan; its alleged relationship; Caucasian languages; Albanian; Yeniaean; other like cases possible.
LECTURE X.
i. REVIEW: synopsis of the families of language.
I. Varying degrees of certainty of the genetic classification; morphological evidence; its value as compared with material.
S. Morphological division of languages into two classes; constituents and characteristics of the classes; the division not absolute; one-sided.
4 Morphological division into three classes; their characteristics; their description not exhaustive; the two higher classes not homogeneous; the infiectiv^
principle; its value; polysynthetic class.
b Parallel of the threefold division with political conditions; its weakness.
* Schleicher's scheme of morphological notation; its application to monosylabic.anguages; to agglutinative; to inflective; its value.
7 Variety of the characteristics to be taken account of in judging a language:
structure not sufficient; significant content; difficulty of a classification by at
solute value.
S. Fundamental and superior importance of the genetic classification; its cow
nedion with ethnology.




ANALYSIS.                               487
*. Non-accordance of the linguistic and physical classifications of human races
their final reconciliation necessary; what can now be done toward it.
1U{ Relation of language to race: erroneous views; their refutation; language
lot the certain sign of race, nor mixture of language the representation of mixture of races; caution thus imposed on the linguistic ethnologist.
11. Language a generally trustworthy indication of race; mixture of races the
disturbing force in all ethnology; mixture of speech accompanies mixture
of communities, and often its only traceable sign.
12. Abnormal extension of a language dependent on culture and literature; ex
amples, Latin and Arabic; evidence of language more trustworthy in more
ancient and ruder times.
13. Diawbacks to physical evidence of race; modification of race-type; value ot
linguistic evidence to the physical ethnologist.
i. Indo-European speech and race; view sometimes held as to their relation;
false assumption; use of the analogy of the Latin; its impropriety; extension
of Indo-European language to be explained mainly by that of a race.
15. Superior availability of linguistic evidence of race in respect to apprehensi.
bility, and ease of record and study; examples of its value; pregnancy of language with historical indications; its part in ethnology.
16. Difficulty of the ethnological problem; its analogy with the geological.
17. Bearing of language on the question of human unity; negative value of its
evidence.
18. Impossibility of proving by language the diversity of human races; unlimited variability of speech; none of its existing differences irreconcilable with
unity of origin.
19. Impossibility of proving unity of the human race by language; this impossibility a practical one.
20. Difficulties of etymologic research; diversity of words historically connected'
resemblances, in form and meaning, of words unconnected; examples.
21. Frequency of false etymologies; delusive signs of relationship discoverable
between any two known languages; Swift's burlesque; its serious counterparts;
application of the doctrine of chances to linguistic coincidences; Its futility.
22. Effect of fortuitous resemblances in frustrating inquiry into the ultimate relationship of linguistic families; signs of this relationship discoverable only in
original roots; impossibility of reaching back to the historical beginnings of
most families; accidental correspondences among roots.
23. Worthlessness of tha traced radical correspondences between different families; impossibility of their extension through all the families; general con
clusion.
LECTURE XI,
1- REVIEW: heads of the last lecture; unpractical character of the qr estion of
human unity.
L. Origin of language: an extra-historical inquiry; but prepared for and simplified by our historical investigations; how much is left to be solved.
8. Whether men could produce the beginnings of speech; theory of its divine




488                            ANALYSIS.
origin; this theory unnecessary; its weakness, as generally held; in wrha
sense it is true; inadmissible supposition sometimes made.
4. Analogy between language, and clothing and shelter; their necessity; thou
rude beginnings; their development and perfection.
5. Source of the impulse to produce speech; it is from without, coming from
desire of communication; language a social possession, production, and need;
impossible to a solitary man.
8. Language and thought not identical; in what sense man speaks because he
thinks.
I. Considerations showing the non-identity of thought and speech: imperfection
of speech as representation of thought; one's power of expression unequal to
his power of conception and judgment; variety of expression for same
thought —e. g., in English, Latin, French, Chinese; externality of the tie
between idea and word; learning to think in a new tongue.
8. Essential unlikeness of thought and its spoken, or its acted, expression.
9. Whether thought and speech are co-extensive; claim that ideas cannot exist
without words; its futility; illustration of word-making; the idea always
anterior to the word.
10. Incommensurability of thought and speech; how far and in what sense we
think with words; we put our thought into words.
11. What mental action is to be called thought; thought present in the deafmute; and, in a measure, in the lower animals; the latter's approach to capacity of language.
12. Difference in mental action between men and lower animals; instance, the
crow's capacity of counting; its limits; how man transcends these limits;
points of superiority of his powers; abstraction of qualities.
13. Aid rendered by language to the progress of knowledge of numbers; farther
aid of written signs; peculiar ideality of mathematical conceptions; yet all
their signs devised by speakers; their development in different races; fortuitous
basis of our decimal system.
14. High importance of language to the clearness and reach of mental action;
speech an instrumentality which the mind creates and works with.
15. Conclusion: speech the assistant of thought; language and culture impossible
without sociality; the beginnings of speech signs of ideas, devised for communication; what remains of the problem of origin.
16. The voice as means of expression; recommended by availability, not imposed by necessity; other means; gesture; its employment by the deaf and
dumb; its naturalness, and capacity of development; its original importance
and present office; superiority of the voice.
17 Significance of first signs; why they denoted action and quality; everythi,'g
in all language, designated ny reference to these; impossibility of directly
signifying concrete objects; various convertibility of first signs.
18. Theories respecting the origin of roots: onomatopoetic theory; interjectional
theory; resonance theory; groundlessness of the last; its implication of a mira,
cle; its discordance with linguistic history.
19. Substantial value of the ether theories; efficiency of the imitative principle
its inclusion of both; of a more subjective symbolism  misuse of the latter




ANALYSIS.                              489
20. Fundamental principle of the first language-making; value cf tone and
gesture.
21. Relation of imitative signs to their ideas; aid of accompanying circumstances'
variety of designation.
22. Eflacelnent of the traces of imitative origin; common weakness of the defend
ers of the onomlatopoetic theory.
23. Deficiencies of our knowledge as to earliest history of speech; scantiness of
the first language; rise and final prevalence of word-making by derivation.
24. Reproach to which our view of the subject is exposed; its groundlessness
common error of linguistic scholars.
LECTURE XII.
1. REVIEW: conclusions reached in the last lecture; their accordance with the
results of our previous inquiries.
2. Why men alone speak; essential characteristic of human speech; superiority of man; instinct and reason; intelligence of animals; their power to
form  general ideas; their most important deficiency; their degrees of
approach to speech.
3. Advantage of speech; its relation to our social nature and to the  l/opment
of our powers; means of handing down accumulated knowledge growth and
transmission of culture.
4. Education gained in acquisition of language itself; analogy between linguistic training of a child and that of the race; between the child's acquisition of
language and of knowledge; between invention of language and that of the
locomotive engine; problem set before the lan-,uage-makers, and mode ef its
solution; results of mental labor deposited in words.
5. Constraint imposed in acquisition of language; how brought to our apprehension; influence of past generations of speakers.
6. Extent to which different races have availed themselves of the advantages
implied in language; lowest and highest degrees.
7. Necessity of writing to fullest development of uses of speech; written I inguage
the complement and continuation of spoken; tends to unify the wholh race.
8. Writing has a history of development; its first impulse; notable ar flogy in
this respect with speech; written language at first independent of sp( ten.
9. Mnemonic and symbolic objects as forerunners of writing; instance of their
use; fullest elaboration of the method, the quippos.
10. Picture-writing; American example; germ of another method ce tained in
this; analogous stage of speech.
11. Mexican picture-writing; phonetic elements in it; difference cE, pinion as
to its general character.
12. Egyptian writing: character of the system; its inferrible initial stag, e: homon.
ymy and symbolism in the hieroglyphs; derivation of phonetic and alphabetmi
signs; mixture, in practice, of signs of various kind; derivation of hieratic
and demotic modes of writing; Coptic alphabet.
13. Chinese writing: its forerunners; its beginnings, hieroglyphs; th -ir combine




490                           ANALYSIS.
tion: symbolic application; introduction of a phonetic element; illustration
signs used in many combinations.
14 Changes of form of the Chinese characters; analogies in speech, relationts 
Chinese writing to the language it represents.
15. Cuneiform modes of writing; their variety; their beginnings; reason of
their form; Persian alphabetic cuneiform.
1.6. Syllabic alphabets; examples, Japanese and Cherokee.
17. Partially syllabic alphabets; ancient Semitic; ground of its peculiar chat
acter; Phenician alphabet; its possible derivation; names of its letters.
18. Spread of the Phenician alphabet; its perfection by the Greeks; first realiza.
tion of the idea of a true alphabet.
19, Derivatives of the Greek alphabet; the Latin alphabet.
20. Derivation of English letters; Greek conversions of Pheniciar signs, and
additions; Latin modifications, omissions, and additions; later modifications
and ad ditions.
21. Relation of English written alphabet to spoken; causes of anomalous Eng.
lish orthography.
22. Demerits of English mode of spelling; ground on which its maintenance
may be defended; false grounds on which it is commonly supported; worthlessness of the etymologic principle; reasons for wishing a phonetic reform.
23. Prospects of the English as a world-language; its character as a language,
judged by the test of literature; value of this test; the two marked peculiarities
of the language: its uninflective character; analogy and contrast with Chinesa
in this respect; its mixed structur r; compensating advantages of the latter.
14. General conclusion; influences to be relied upon for maintaining ani icy
proving Eacish.




INDEX.
A, the letter, derivation of, 464.    Alphabet, spoken, structtre and rl
a, flattening of, in dance, etc., 43.   tions of, 91; primitive alphabet of
a or an, article, 115.                  Indo-European language, 265; its
-able, 40-41.                           development, 266; limited alphabets
abstr~act, 112.                         of Polynesian languages, 338.
Abyssinia, Semitic languages of, 297, Alphabet, written, germs of in Egypt,
299.                                  454-5; derivation of alphabetic cuAbyssinian group of Hamitic languages,   neiform, 460; syllabic alphabets, 460341, 343.                             61; Semitic alphabet and its derivaAccent, makes unity of word, 56; how    tives, 461-3; Greek and its derivaproduced, 89; its various place in   tives, 463; Latin, 464-46; English,
different languages, 95-6.            466-7.
Accidental correspondences between  also, 111, 114.
words unrelated, 185, 243-4, 387-91.  Altaic family of languages - see ScyAchoemenidan monuments, 222; char-   thian.
acter in which they are written, 460. amn, 62-3, 115, 135, 267.
Acquisition of language, how made,  America, the English language in, 151,
11-20; acquisition of mental training    171-4.
and knowledge involved in it, 442-5. America, aboriginal languages of, 346Adelung, referred to, 4.                53: their variety and changeableAdjectives, in Indo-European language,    ness, 346-7; probable unity, 348;
275; E1nglish  nouns directly con-    polysynthetic structure, 348; princivertible into, 282.                   pal groups in North  America, 350
Adverbs in Indo-European language,   -51; question of their relation to
275-6.                                Asiatic languages, 330, 351; absurd
IEolic dialect of ancient Greek, 221.   theories respecting this, 352; imporAfghan or Pushto language, 192, 224.    tance to us of their study, 352.
Africa, languages of, 297, 299, 340-46.  American aborigines, examples of pictagain, 115.                             ure-writing by, 450-52.
Agglutinative structure of Scythian  Amharic language, of Abyssinia, 297,
languages, 316-20; of Dravidian, 327.   299.
Agglutinative tongues, their charac-  an or a, article, 115.
teristics, classification, and relations, -ana, 140.
360-65.                             Analogies, extension of prevailing, its
Ainos, language of, 329.                influence in producing the changes
alas, 277.                              of language, 27-8, 82, 85.
Albanian language, descendant of an-  Analogies between linguistic and cercient Illyrian, 191, 290-91, 355.     tain physical sciences, 46-7, 52.
Alemannic dialect of Old High-Ger- Analysis, etymological, of words, 55
man, 163, 211.                        seq.; is the retracing of a previous
Alforas of Australia, language of, 340.  historical synthesis, 65-7, 251-4,
Algonquin  group of American  lan-   indispensable in comparison of languages, 350.                          guages, 246.
ally, 29.                             Analytical tendency in modern lanalms, 29, 102, 387.                     guages, 120, 279; its ground, 280-86
ilbphabet, 460.                       and, 115.
(491)




492                               INDEX.
Andaman islands, people and language  Augment in Indo-European verbs, 26t
of, 339.                               292.
Anglo-Saxon  language, ancestor of  Australia, language of, 339-40.
English, 24; its relations to the other  Austrian dialect of Old High-Gu-rman
Germanic languages, 210.               211; Austrian dialectic elements i;
Animals lower than man, mental ac-    modern German, 163.
tion of, 414-17, 439; how near some  Auxiliary and relational woids, thesi
of them approach to capacity of Ian-    production, 117-20.
guage, 415, 440; reason of their inca- Avesta, Zoroastrian scripture, 222.
pacity, 438-40.                      Aztecs, language of, 351.
Annamese language, 336.
Antiquity of human race, 205, 382-3.    Baber, the emperor, memoirs of, 313.
apprehend, 112, 133.                   Bantu family - see South-African.
Arabic alphabet, origin and diffusion  Bashkir, Turkish language, 310.
of, 462.                             Basque language, in Spain. 191. 353-4
Arabic language, 294, 296-7, 301 seq.,   363.
306; its literature, 299-300; its spread, Bavarian dialect of Old High-Geiman,
299, 300, 346, 375.                    163, 211.
Aramaic branch of Semitic languages,  be, 115.
297, 298.                            bear, 242.
Arbitrariness and conventionality of  become, 108.
words, as signs for ideas, 14, 32, 71, befall, 113.
102, 438.                            Beginnings, of Indo-European  lanArmenian language, 192, 224; char-    guage, 250 seq.; of language in gen.
acter in which it is written, 463.     eral, 423-6.
Armorican language of Brittany, 190,  Bengali language, 224.
218.                                 Beowulf, Anglo-Saxon poem, 210.
Arrow-headed characters —see Cunei-  Berber languages, 341, 343.
form.                                better, 331.
Articles, origin of, 115, 276.         bishop, 244, 387.
Articulate sounds, how  produced, 70, blame, 262.
87-91; their systematic arrangement  blast, 262.
and relations, 91; transitions, 92-8;  Bleek, Dr. W. H. J., referred to, 344
office as means of expression, 421-3;    note.
have no inherent natural significance,  board, 107.
430-31; cannot represent exactly in-  boatswain, 72.
articulate sounds, 431-2.            body, 115.
Artificial languages, 50-51, 444; arti-  Bohemian language, 191, 214.
ficial terminology, 122.             Bopp, Professor Franz, referred to, 5
Aryan branch of Indo-European lan-    200, 245 note.
guage, 192, 201.                     Bornu, language of, 346.
Aryan, name for Indo-European, 192.   Borrowing of foreign words, its range
as, 111, 114.                            and amount, 185, 197-8; into Eng
Asia, languages of, 192, 222-7, 294-    lish vocabulary, 143-7.
337 354-5.                           bow-wotw. 425.
Aspirates, or aspirated mutes, 93, 265  Bow-wow theory of origin of language
note.                                  426 seq.
Assimilation of consonants, 93-4.      Brahui language, 327.
Assimilation of dialects, 160-61, 181.    breakfast, 56.
Association, mental, the only tie be-  Breton language, 190, 218.
twcen words and their meanings,  brother, 196.
14, 71, 128, 409-10.                 Brown, Rev. N., referred to, 337 note,
Assyrian people and language, 295, 297. Bulgarian language, 191, 214.
Athapaskan group of American lan-  Buriats, language of, 312.
guages, 350.                         Burmese language, 336, 359..attend, 178.                          Burnouf, M. 1Eug6ne, referred to,.
Attenuation of the meaning of words  Bushmen, language of, 341, 345.
and elements of words, 114-20.       butterfly, 71.
Attic dialect of ancient Greek, 221.




INDEX.                              493
C, the letter, derivation of, 465,     merit, 336, 367; supplemented by itt
COsar, 105-6.                          written characters, 458; compared
calculate, 130.                         with English, 331, 471-2.
Caldwell, Rev. R., referred to, 327 note.  Chinese writing, preceded by use of
calm, 468.                              knotted cords, 450, 455; history of
Cambodian language, 336.                455-9; relation to the spoken lan.
can, 111.                               guage, 458.
Canaanitic branch of Semitic languages,  Choctaw language, 350.
297.                                Chuana family - see South-African.
Canarese language, 326.               Chukchi language, 329.
candid, 17, 133.                     church, 472.
candidate, 126, 127, 131, 133.        Church-Slavic language, 214.
Carthage, language of, 295, 298.      Circassian language, 354.
Cases, their number, origin, and office  Civilization, degree of, of Indo-Euro.
in Indo-European language, 271-5;   pean mother-tribe, 207-8.
their loss in English, 77; in other  Classification of languages, by genetic
languages, 274; replacement, 280-81;   relationship, how effected, 185-6, 290;
cases in Semitic language, 304; in   review of families thus established,
Scythian, 319.                        292-357; its uncertainties, 323, 357Castren, Professor Alexander, referred    8; its preeminent value, 369-70;
to, 310, 315.                         classification  by  structural correCaucasian languages, 354-5.             spondence, 358-67; by positive value,
Celtic languages, obliterated by Latin    367-9.
in southern Europe, 166, 216-17; by  Classification of conceptions, learned
Germanic language in England, 169;    along with language, 12.
their classification, age, literatures,  cleave, 387.
etc., 190, 215-18; their position in  Clicks in South African languages, 345.
Indo-European family, 204.          Clothing, analogy between language
Celtomania, 216.                        and, 401-3.
Central America, language and culture  Cochin-China, language of, 336.
of, 347, 351.                       cock, 429.
Chaldee language, 297, 298.           cockade, 429.
Champollion, referred to, 341.        Comanche language, 351.
Chances, doctrine of, as applied to lin-  Combination of independent elements
guistic resemblances, 390.           into words, 55-67; our words univerChange, linguistic, its kinds, necessity,    sally so made up, 65-7, 251-5; cornand universality, 24-33; forces pro-    bination promotes, and is aided by,
ducing it, 35-46, 48-9; considerations    phonetic change, 70, 73-4; accompadetermining it in special cases, 41;    nied by change of meaning, 116;
phonetic or external change, 42-3;    now of limited range in English, 143,
constructive, 55-65, 70, 73-4; de-    147-8, 282.
structive, 74-98; internal change, of  conybrt, 133.
meaning, 100-135, 141-2; relations  Communication, its possibility makes
of external and internal change, 101;   the unity of a language, 22, 157; it
varying rate and kind of change, 137-    keeps language uniform, 155-61,183;
53; processes of change are what, 154;   impulse to it, the immediate producer
linguistic change causes the growth    of spoken language, 403-5; of writof dialects, 154-5, 159; generally of    ing, 448-9.
slow and gradual progress, 44, 123, Community, makes and changes lan183, 277-8; exceptional cases of rapid    guage, 45, 123, 148, 404; preserves
change, 137, 291, 347.                unity of a language, 155; how and
charity, 102.                           within what limits it works, 156-8,
Cheremiss language, 309.                161; effects of external conditions
Cherokee language, 350; word-phrase    upon, 159.
of, 349; alphabet of native invention,  Comparative method in modern study
461.                                  of language, 3, 240-48; how to be
Chinese language, its age, 233-4, 332;    applied, 241-6: not a mere comparimonosyllabic character, 257, 330-31,   son of words, 246-7; its univeisa!
359; history, literature, etc., 332-6;   reach, 248.




494                             INDEX.
Comparative philology, 3, 241.          language of, 222; Semitic, 306; ts
Composition of words- see Combina-    serted Ugrian, 314-15.
tion.                               Curtius, Professor George, referred to,
conc)rete, 112.                         200.
Confucius, representative man of China, Cymric group of Celtic languages, 190
33g.                                  217.
Conjugation, forms of, in Indo-Euro-  Cyril, Slavic Bible-version of, 214.
pean language, 266-9; in its later  czar, 106.
dialects, 269-70; their loss by phonetic corruption in English, 75-7,.d, ending of English preterits, origin
86-7; conjugational forms in Se-   of, 60, 81-2, 117, 235.
mitic language, 303; in Scythian, daguerreotype, 39.
319-20.                             dahlia, 146.
Conjugations, irregular and regular, in  Dakota language, 350.
English, 79-82.                     Danish language, 212.
Conjugations, of Semitic verb, 304; of  Darfur, language of, 346.
Scythian, 319; of South-African, 345. daughter, 196.
Conjunctions, in Indo-European lan-  Dead languages, 149-50.
guage, 276.                         Deaf-mutes, language of, 410-11, 413
Consciousness, different degrees of, in    422; thought of, 414.
the processes of language-making, dealt, 79.
40-41, 50, 121-4.                   dear me!, 277.
Consciousness, different subjection of  Decimal system of numeration, on what
mental action to, in man and lower   founded, 419.
animals, 440.                       Declension, forms of, in Indo-European
Conservative forces in linguistic tradi-   language, 270-74; in its later diation, 31, 43-4, 148-51, 159.          lects, 274-5; their loss by phonetic
Consonants and vowels, relation of, 89,   corruption, 77-9. - See also Cases.
91.                                 Dekhan, languages of, 224, 326.
Constraining influence of acquisition  Delaware or Algonquin group of Amerof language on mental action, 445-6.   ican languages, 350.
Conventionality of words, as signs of  Demotic, later Egyptian, alphabet, 455.
ideas, 14, 32, 71, 128, 148, 409-10, Dialects, their prevalence, 153-4; their
438.                                  explanation, 154-62; causes which
copper, 130.                            bring about dialectic diversity, 154-5;
Coptic language, 340-41; writing, 455.    which restrain it, 155-6, 159; which
coquette, 429.                          reduce it, 160-61; illustrations of diaCorean language, 329.                   lectic divergence and convergence,
Cornish language, 216, 218.             162-74; dialects of English, 170-71;
could, 468.                             in America, 171-4; dialectic growth
count, 261.                             everywhere inevitable, 174, 181-2;
court, etc., 108.                       dialect and  language convertible
cover, 388.                             terms, 175; erroneous views respectCraik, Rev. G. L., referred to, 211 note.   ing dialects, 177-84; dialectic differCreek language. 350.                    ences always imply original unity,
Crow, its power of numeration, 415-17.    178-81.
Cultivated or learned dialects, 149-51, did, 268;'forms ending of English pret
182-4.                                erits, 60-61, 81-2, 235; auxiliary, 117.
Cultivation of a language, its meaning  Ding-dong~theory of origin of language
and effect, 182-4.                    427.
Culture and education, conservative  discuss, 112.
influence of, on language, 17, 149-51, Divine origin of language, in what
158-9.                                sense to be accepted, 399-403.
Cult ire, only possible by means of Ian-  doff, 116, 262.
guage, 441; won in the acquisition  don, 116, 262.
of language, 441-5.                 Doric dialect of ancient Greek, 221.
cuneiform characters, origin of, 459-60;  double, 62.
monuments, in these characters, of  Dravidian languages of southern India
Persia, 222; of Assyria, 295; Persian    198, 326-7.




INDEx.                                415
Dual number, in'rerbs, 267; in nouns,    dangers, and ill-repute, 239, 386-94
273; its loss, 274.                    modern improvements of, 240, 244
Dutch language, 164, 211.                386-7; is not the whole science, 247;
false etymologies, 388-90.
Etymology of a word the explanation
E, the letter, derivation of, 464.       of its origin, not the ground of its use
Eddas, Old Norse collections, 212.       14, 128-9, 132-4.
Education gained in the acquisition of  Euguvine  tablets, Umbrian  mona
language, 13, 15-16, 441-5.            ments, 220.
Education, conservative influence of, Euphony, seat of, in the mouth, not the
upon language, 17, 149-51, 158-9.      ear, 90.
Egypt, languages of, 150, 234, 340-43.  Europe, languages of, 186-91, 209-21,
Egyptian modes of writing, 452-4.        309-10, 353-5.
Ehkili language, 299.                  Expression, dependent upon an extereither or either, 43, 95.                nal inducement, not an internal imelectricity, 129.                        pulse, 403-5, 420-21; always incomEnglish language, how acquired by its    plete, 20, 109-11, 406-7; variety of
speakers, 1.0-22; its differences in    expression for same idea in different
individuals, 16-22; what, in general,   languages, 407-9; the voice as means
it is, 22; how kept in existence, 23;    of, 421-3.
its constant change, 24; causes and  eye, 101.
modes of this change, 25-31, 140-48;
examples of the changes which have  F, the letter, derivation of, 465.
brought it into its present state, 55-  Families of languages, how established,
65, 70-87, 92-5, 97, 102-34; its der-    290-92.
ivation and history, 24, 31, 99, 147,  Family languages, so called, 363.
169-70; its periods, 210; mixture of  Farrar, Rev. B. W., referred to, vi. note.
Germanic and other elements in it,  Farther India, languages of, 336-7.
84, 144, 170, 185, 198, 373, 472-3; its  father, 179.
fundamental structure chiefly Ger-  Fellatah language, 346.
manic, 170, 198; position and rela-  Finnish language, 191, 309, 320, 361;
tions as a Germanic language, 187-9,   its literature, 314.
210-13; as an Indo-European lan-  Finno-Hungarian branch of Scythian
guage, 189-200; its analytical char-   language - see Ugrian.
acter, 279, 282, 284; prevailing mono-  Firdusi, Persian poet, 223, 325.
syllabism, 264-5, 279; comparison  Jfie, 196.
with Chinese, 331, 471-2; its dialects,  Flemish language, 211.
170-71; transfer to America, 171-2;  Florida group of American languages,
British and American forms of, 172-    350.
4; prospects as a world-language,  for, 114.
470; merits, 470-74.                 forehead, 56.
English orthography, anomalies of, 94, forget, 113.
467-9; reform desirable, 469-70.     for give, 113.
English spoken alphabet, structure and  Formative elements, 63-77; derived
relations of, 91.                      from  words originally independent,
English written alphabet, derivation    66, 251-5; their production gradual
and character of, 466-7.               and unreflective, 124; aided by phoErse, or Scotch Gaelic, language, 190.    netic corruption, 73-4; accompanying
Eskimo language, 330, 350, 351.          change of meaning, 117; extensibilE,;thonia, Scythian languages in, 309.    ity of their application, 83-4; their
Ethiopian or Abyssinian group of Ha-    distinction as primary and secondary
mitic languages, 341, 343.             255.
Ethiopic or Geez, a Semitic, language,  fortnight, 56.
297, 299.                            f iail, 111.
Ethnology, bearing of linguistic scirnce  Frankish dialect of Old High-German
on, 8, 370-94..                      163, 211.
Etruscan language, 354.                Freedom of mental action restricted by
Etymology, the foundation of linguistic    acquisition of language, 445 -6.
science, 54-5, 238; its uncertainties,  French language, 164-5, 189, 210- 19




496                               INDEX.
Germanic and Celtic elements in, 168,  Grimm, Professor Jacob, referred to, 4
169,.374..                            5; his law of permutation of consto
Fricative sounds, in alrhabet, 91.       nants in Germanic languages, 97-8.
Frisian langruage, 211.                Grout, Rev. L., referred to, 344 note.
-.ful, suffix, 57, 73.                 grow, 115.
Fulah language, 346.                   Guess, George, inventor of Cheroket
Fusion of dialects into one, 161; causes    alphabet, 461.
determiningl character of result, 168-9.  Gypsy language, 225.
Future in Romanic languages, 118; in
Anglo-Saxon and lEnglish, 119; in  H, the letter, derivation of, 465.
Ilido-EIuropean language, 268.       Habit, the ground of ability in language, 117, 147-8, 282.
G, the letter, derivation of, 465.     Hadley, Professor James, referred to,
Gabelentz, H. C. von der, retferred to,    84 note, 211 note.
339 note.                            Hamitic family of languages, 341-3.
Gadhelic group of Celtic languages,  hand, 115.
190, 217.                            Harmonic sequence of vowels in ScythGaelic languages, 190, 217.              ian languages, 318, 362.
Galla language, 341.                   have, 117-18, 199.
Gallatin, Albert, referred to, 849 note.   head, 107, 115.
galv(anism, 39, 129.                   Hebrew language, 294, 296, 297, 306,
Gaulish languages of France etc., 216-    308; its alphabet, 462.
17.                                  Heldensagen, Middle High -German,
Geiz or Ethiopic language, 297, 299.     212.
Gender, grammatical, in Indo-European  Heliand, Old Saxon poem, 211.
languages, 77-8, 273-4; lost in Eng-  help, 30, 81, 82.
lish, 78; in other languages, 275; Heyse, Professor K. W. L., referred to,
gender in Semitic verbs, 303; nouns,    427.
304; in Hamitic languages, 342; gen-  Hieratic, later Egyptian, writing, 455.
der wanting in Scythian languages,  Hieroglyphic writing, 450-59; of Egypt,
319; in other families, 342-3.         452-5; of China, 455-6; hieroglyphic
Genetic relationship of languages, 186,    origin of cuneiform writing, 459.
290; their classification by it —see  High-German languages, 163-4, 188,
Classification.                        210, 211-12.
Genius of individuals, its effect on lan-  hill, 14.
guage, 123.                          Himalayas, languages of, 337.
genteel, gentile, gentle, 111.         Himvaritic language, 297, 299.
Geology, general analogy between and  Hindi language, 224.
linguistic science, 47; analogies in  Hindustani language, 224.
special points, 62, 184, 253, 265, 382.  Historical spelling in English, 94, 467.
Georgian language, 354-5.              Hodgson, Mr. B. H., referred to, 337
German language, history of, 162-4.      note.
Germanic languages, 187-9; their clas-  home, 133.
sification, age, literatures, etc., 210-  Homer, poems of, 221.
13; permutation of consonants in,  Homonyms in English, 334-5, 387; in
97-8; verbal conjugation of, 80-82,    Chinese, 334; how distinguished in
269-70.                                 Chinese writing, 456-7.
Germanic race, its part in history, 231.  horse, 195.
Gesture as means of expression, 422-3,  Hottentots, language of, 341; clicks in
431.                                   it, 345.
get, 1)8.                              Human race, its antiquity, 205, 382-5,
Gonds, language of, 327.                 its unity not determinable by lanGothic language, 213.                    guage, 383-94.
-graph, 140.                           Humnboldt, Wilhelm von, referred to, 5,
Greece, founder of Indo-European pre-    367.
eminence, 230-31.                    Hungarian language, 191, 309, 320, 361
Greek language, 190, 220-22.             its literature, 314; traces of polysy}
rteen, 125.                             thesis in, 349.
Greenland, anguage of, 350.            Huzvaresh or Pehlevi language, 223.




TNDEX.                                497
I, the letter, derivation of, 4(4, t5.  Instinct and reason, 439.
I (pronoun), 101.                      intellect, 112.
Icelandic language, 203, 212.          Intellectual terms derived from phydi
Ideas antecedent to their names; 125,    cal, 111-13.
412.                                 Interjectional theory of origin of lan,
I llyrian language, 191.                 guage, 426-7, 429-30.
lInitation  of natural signs, efficient  Interjections. 276-7.
principle in the origin of language,  Internal change in language, 100-121.
426-31; not servilely precise, 431-2.  Invention of language by men, what i.
inmpornt,nt 112.                          meant by, 443-4.
Inaccuracies of speech, their causes and  Ionic dialect of ancient Greek, 221.
their part in the history of language,  Iranian branch of Indo-European lan
27-31, 36-7.                           guage, 192, 222-4.
inor)plicabilities, 64.                Irish language, 190, 217, 218.
Incorporative or polysynthetic struct-  Iroquois group of American languages
ure, 348-9, 354, 363.                  350.
India, languages of, 224-9, 326-7; oc-  Irregularities in English declension and
cupation of its northern part by Indo-    conjugation, 78-81.
European peoples, 201, 326.          irrevocability, 254.
Indian, 130.                           is, 63, 115, 179.
ITdividuals, all changes of language  island, 468.'timately their work, 35-46, 123-4,  isle, 468..25, 148, 154-5, 404; their diversity  -ism, 140.
causes divergence of dialects, 154-5;  Isolating languages - see Monosylla.
differences of their speech within the    bic.
same community, 16-22, 156-8, 181.  Italian language, 165, 168, 189, 219.
Indo-European  family of languages, Italic group  of Indo-European  lanother names for, 192; how composed,    guages, 220.
186-92, 210-29; genetic relationship  its, 30.
of its constituents, 193, 197, 378; evidences of their common descent, 193-  J, the letter, derivation of, 465, 466.
200; interconnections of its branches,  Jagataic Turkish language, 313.
203-4; place and time of its original  Japanese language, 328-9; modes of
speakers unknown, 200-205; their    writing, 329, 460-61.
civilization, "05-8; importance of the  Japhetic family - see Indo-European
famlily to linguistic science, 3, 229-37;
age and variety of its dialects, 233-6;  K, the letter, derivation of, 465.
earliest history of development, 250-  Kafir group of South-African lanl
87; historical beginnings, 250-66;    guages, 345.
roots, pronominal and verbal, 258-  Kalevala, Finnish poem, 314.
63; primitive spoken alphabet, 265;  Kalmucks, language of, 312.
growth of forms and parts of speech,  Kamchatkan language, 329.
266-77; rate and continuousness of  Karen language, 336.
growth, 277-8; synthetic and ana-  Khalkas, language of, 312.
lytic development, 279-86; charac-  Khitan, Tungusic dynasty, 312.
teristic structure of Indo-European  Khonds, language of, 327.
language, 292-4, 361-3; question of  Kin, Tungusic dynasty, 312.
its ultimate connection with Semitic  kind, 108.
language, 307, 361, 394; its limits  kine, 44.
probably  mainly  coincident with  Kirghiz language, 310.
those of a race, 377-9.              kniqlht, 42.
Intlo-Germanic family -see Inao-Eu-  Kols, language of, 327.
ropean.                              Koran, Mohammedan scripture1, 39
Inflectional languages, 358.           Koriak language, 329.
hllective character of Indo-European  Kotars, language of, 327.
lhnguagpe, 293, 361; wherein it con-  Kroatian language, 214.
silts, 293-4, 366 note; Semitic Ian-  Kurdish language, 192, 224.
guage inflective, 300. 361; value of  Kurilian language, 328, 329.
inflective principle, 362.           Kwanto, of Farther India 336.
32




498                             7JNDIX.
iye, 44.                                alphabet, 465; its written alpLabet
463-4. 465-6.
Labial series of articulate sounds.91.   Latin words, introduction of, into Eng
laird, 388.                             lish, 143-6; Latinized style of Eng.
Language, in what aspect the subject   lish, 146.
of linguistic science, 6, 10, 54; inter-  learn, 262.
est of inquiries into, 7-8; how ac-  led, 80.
quired by those who speak, 11-22;  Lena, branch of Turkish language upwhat a language is, 22; how kept in    on, 310-11.
existence, 23; dead languages, 149-  Lepsius, Professor R., referred to, 91
50; constant change or growth of    note, 341 note, 344 note.
language, 24-33; by what instru-  Lesghian language, 355.
mentality produced, 35-46, 125, 154;  -less, 58.
processes of growth, 55-135; rate  Lettish language, 191, 215.
and kind of growth, and causes af-  Libyan languages, 341, 343.
fecting it, 137-53; dialects, 153-85;  lie, 75-6.
the various forms of human lan- Life of a language, what is meant by
guage and their genetic classifica-    32, 35; its analogy with that of an
tion, 185-229, 294-357; other modes    organized being, or of a race of such,
of classification, 357-70; relation of    46; the processes  constituting —
language to race, 14-15, 370-83; its   see Change, linguistic.
evidence incapable of determining  like, in such and which, 57, 70; in -ly,
the question of human unity, 383-94;    58-60, 70, 73; the verb, 108, 113.
language an institution, the work of  likewise, 114.
its speakers, 48, 401-3, 442-5; its  Lingual series of articulate sounds, 19.
conventional character, 32, 409-10;  Linguistic  change  or growth- see
it is a social product and possession,    Change, linguistic.
404; part taken by individuals and  Linguistic evidence of race, its nature
by the community, respectively, in its   and limitations, 371-9.
production, 45, 148, 154-6, 171; lan-  Linguistic scholars, differences of temguage not identical with thought, nor    perament among, 324.
indispensable to it, but its instrument Linguistic science, of recent developand aid, 405-21; its imperfection as    ment, 1; its preparatory stages, 1-3;
means of expression, 20, 109-11,   its progress, 3-6; its material, 6, 50,
406-7; its value to man, 440-47;    230; its objects and their interest.
education involved in its acquisition,   6-8; what it seeks in language, 10, 54;
13, 15-16, 441-3; its constraining in-    237; analogies between it and certain
fluence on mental action, 445-6; its    physical sciences, 46-48, 52; it is a
work supplemented by writing, 447-    historical science, 48-52; its truly
9; origin of language, in what sense    scientific character, 53; its method,
divine, 399-403; desire of communi-   52, 54-5, 237-48; its dependence on
cation its direct impulse, 403-5; its   Indo-European comparative philolobeginnings of what kind, 421-6; how    gy, 4, 233-7.
produced, 426-34; example of de-  Literary culture, its influence on the
velopment of a language from such    history of language, 23, 37, 43-5
beginnings, 250-87; language a hu-    148-51, 159-60, 182-4.
man pcssession  only, 399, 414-17,  Literary languages, 149-50,174; thei
438-40.                               usual origin, 164.
Language, science or study of —see  Lithuanian group of languages, 191,
Linguistic science.                   215.
Langun d'oc, 164, 218.                Little-Russian. larTguage, 214.
Lapps, language of, 191, 309.         Livonia, Scythian languages of, 309.
Latin language, its age, literatire, etc., Livonian language, 191, 215.
219-20; its relations in Italy, 165, Local dialects, acquired in learning tU
220; history of its extension in south-   talk, 16-717.
ern Europe, 165-9; causes of this, Loo-Chloo islands, language of, 329.
375, 378, 382; its artificially pro-  lord, 388.
longed existence, 150; its modern  lore, 262.
descendants, 167, 218-19; its spoken




INDEX.                              499
Loss of words from the vocabulary of a  Mnemonic objects, as forerunners a'
language, 27, 98-100.                 writing, 450.
Louis, St., of France, as language-  Modern Greek language, 221.
maker, 38.                          Mceso-Gothic language, 60, 199, 213
love, 260.                              235.
Low-German languages, 188, 210-11.   Mohammed, arouser of the Arab race
luna etc., 103, 104.                    296.
Lunatic, 105, 130, 131.               money, 130, 131, 247-8.
Luther's influence on history of German  Mongolian family -see Scythian.
language, 163.                      Mongolian branch of Scythian Ian.
-ly, 58-60, 63, 83, 124, 235.           guages, 311-12, 313, 320; its written
Lyell, Sir Charles, referred to, 47 note.    character, 313, 462.
Monosyllabic family of languages, 33037; monosyllabic class, 358-65.
magnet, 130.                          Monosyllabism, primitive, of Ind~o
Magyar — see Hungarian.                 European language, 255-66, 279-86,
Mahratta language, 224.                 secondary monosyllabism of Englishl
Malayalam or Malabar language, 326.     etc., 264, 279; compared with ChiMalay language, 338.                    nese, 331, 472.
Malay-Polynesian family of languages,  month, 104.
337-9.                              Moods of Indo-European verb, 268; of
Man, Isle of, its language, 190.        Semitic, 303.
Man, sole possessor of language, 399, moon, 103-5.
438; difference of his mental ca- Moral terms derived from  physical,
pacity and action from that of the    111-13.
lower animals, 414-16, 438-40; the  Moravian language, 214.
artificer of his own speech, 48, 401-3, Mordwinian language, 309.
442-5; value of speech to him, 440- Morphological correspondence as sigh
47.                                   of genetic relationship, 291, 332,
Manchu language, 312, 313, 320; its    357-8; systems of morphological
written character, 313, 462.          classification, 358-67.
Mandingo language, 346.               mother, 196.
manumit, 130.                         mou'tain, 14.
manure, 111.                          MUller, Professor Max, quoted or re.
Marsh, Mr. G. P., referred to, 211 note.   ferred to, vii., 4 note, 35, 51 note,
me, 196, 430.                           177 note, 180, 317, 360, 363, 427.
mean, 263.                            Mutes, class of articulations, 91; aspiMelanesian family of languages, 339.    rated, 265 note.
men, 79.                              Mutes, language of — see Deaf-mutes.
Mental action of men and animals, comparison of, 414-17, 438-40.         Nabatean literature, 298.
Mesopotamia, Semitic languages of, Names-giving, processes of, 25-6, 38295.                                  42, 103-31, 411-12, 424-6; different
Mexico, language and culture of, 347,   degrees of reflectiveness in, 121-4,
349, 351; writing of, 451-2.          are historical, and founded in con.
Middle High-German period and litera-    venience only, 127, 129; comparature, 212.                            tive ease of naming different classes
Migration, effect of, on language, 202.  of conceptions, 194-5.
MLinnesingers, 212.                   Namol!o language, 329.':nt, 130.                          Nasal articulations, 91.
inunlte, 111.                         National character as expressed ix.
alishna, Rabbinic Hebrew work, 297.     speech, 152.
Nlithridates, work of Adelung etc., 4.    Negative prefix, 292.
Mitsjeghian language, 355.            Negritos, language of, 339.
Mixtttre of language, 197-9; of ele-  Nestorian people and language, 298.
ments in English language, 84,143-4, Netherlands, language of, 211.
170, 185, 472-3.                    Newfoundlland, 71-2.
lixture of races, 374; its effect upon  New Guinea and neigk borirg islands
language, 160-61, 168, 374-6.         language of, 339.




500                              INDEX.
New Iligh-German period of German. Orochon, Tungusic tribes, 31U
212.                                Oscan language, 165. 220.
Nibelungen-lied, old German epic, 212. Osmanli Turkish, 314.
Nomadic languages, so called, 363.    Ossetic language, 192, 224.
Normans, adoption of French language  Ossianic poems, 217.
by, 169; their introduction of it into  Ostiaks, language of, 309.
England, 169, 189.                  Otomi language, 348 note.
Norwegian language, 212.              Ottoman Turkish, 314.
Nouns, substantive and adjective, their  ou.ht, owed, owned, 111.
development from roots, 270-75;
question whether nouns or verbs are  P, the letter, derivation of, 465.
original, 423-6.                    pagane, 131.
Numbers, in conjugation, 267; in de-  page, 387.
clension, 273; in Semitic languages,  Palatal series of articulaticns, 91
303, 304; in Polynesian languages, Pali language, 225.
339.                                Papuans. language of, 339.
Numerals as proofs of Indo-European  ]parchmnent, 130.
unity, 194; examples, 196.          Parsis, and their language, 222-3.
Numeration  in  Indo-European  and  Passives, origin of, in Indo-Europea
other languages, 419; reason of its   language, 268.
usual decimal basis, 419.           Past time, Indo-European verbal forms
indicating, 267-8.
0, the letter, derivation of, 464.    Pazend language, 223.,Obsolete and obsolescent words, 98-9.  Pegu, language of, 336.
of, 111, 114, 120.                    Pehlevi language, 223.
fJ, 1i11, 7114.                       Permian language, 309.
O1d Bactrian language, 222.           Permutation of consonants in Germanic
Old High-Gernman period of German,   languages, 97-8.
211.                                Persian or Iranian branch of IndoOld Norse language - see Icelandic.     European languages, 192, 198, 222-4.
Old Prussian language, 191, 215.      Person, verbal endings of, their origin,
Old Saxon language, 211.                75, 266-7, 303, 319; their loss in
Old Slavonic language, 214.             English, 75-7; they distinguish gent
-ology, 140.                            der in Semitic, 303; double form of
Onomatopoeia, the main effective prin-   first person in Polynesian languages
ciple in the origination of language,    339.
425-6, 428-34.                      Peru, its culture, 347; its mode of writ.
Onomatopoetic theory of origin of lan-   ing, 45().
guage, 426.                         Peshito, Syriac Bible-version, 298.
or, 115.                              Petra, inscriptions of, 299.
Organism of language, what is meant  petroleumn, 146.
by, 35, 46.                         Phenician language, 294-5, 297; alpha
Origin of language, approximation to    bet of, 461-2; its diffusion, 462-3.
it by historical research, 397-8; doc- Phonetic change, 27-31, 42-3, 51, 69trine of divine origin, in what sense    98; how brought about, 28, 42, 69:
alone true, 399-403; due to an    most rife in compound forms, 70'
external inducement, the desire of    aids the constructive processes of
communication, 403-5; language not   language, 73-4; its destructive ac
originated by thought, but by men    tion, 74-87; conversion of sounds
for the uses of thought, 405-21; char-   into one another, 87-94; this dependacteristic mental action of men, lead-   ent on the mode of physical producing to it, 414-18, 438-40; beginnings    tion of sounds, 87-91; its causes only
of language, of what kind, 421-6,    partially explainable, 95-7; permutaexemplified in beginnings of Indo-   tion of consonants, peculiar phonetic
European language, 250-61; various    change ir Germanic languages, 97-8.
theories to account for their produc-  Phonetic principle in writing, itA detion, 426-7; onomatopoeia, or imita-    velopment in Egyptian writing, 454;
tion of natural sounds, the main effi-   its introduction into Chinese, 456.
cient principle, 427-34, 437.         phonetic cuneiform, 460; steps of




INDEX.                                50
development of a purely phonetic    303, 319; pronouns as evidences oi
alphabet, 46t -63.                     Indo-European unity, 194; examples
Phonetic spelling for English, 467-70.   196.
Phrases, formation of, 116.            Proper names, derivation of, 105.
Physical causes, their effect on Ian-  propose, 112.
guage, 138, 152-3.                   Provenqal language, 164, 218, 219
Physical evidence of race, compared  Punic language, 297, 298.
w,.ith linguistic, 370-82, 397.      Pushto language - see Afghan.
Physical sciences, analogies of linguistic science with, 46-7, 52.           Q, the letter, derivation of, 465, 466.
Physical structure of men does not de-  queer, 113.
termline their language, 371-2.      Quippos, Peruvian substitute for writ
Physical terms converted to intellectual    ing, 450.
ani moral, 111-13.
Picture-writing, 450-53; its analogy  R, the letter, derivation of, 465.
with onomatopoetic speech, 451.      Rabbinic Hebrew. 297.
Plan of this work, 8-10.               Race, relation of language to, 14, 160.
ple, 62.                                 61, 371-2; value of language as evi
please, 113.                             dence of, 370-76, 381.
Plural, irregular and regular in Eng-  Races, different advantage gained from
lish, 78-9, 82-3; in Indo-European    language by, 446-7.
language, 272-3; in Scythian, 319;  Rask, Professor Rasmus, referred to, 5.
pluralizing words in Chinese, 335.    Rate of linguistic change, its variety
Polabian language, 214.                  and the circumstances affecting it,
Polish language. 191, 214.               31-2, 17-9, 148-53.
Polynesia, languages of, 337-40.       read, 80.
Polysvnlthetic structure of American  Reason and instinct, 438-9.
languages, 348-9; of Basque, 354;  red tape, 125.
traces of it in Hungarian, 349; poly-  Reduplication, in Indo-European verb
synthetic class, 368.                  267-8; in Polynesian, 338-9.
pono (Latinl), derivatives of, in Eng-  Reflectiveness, different degrees of, in
lish, 120-21.                          the processes of word-making, 40-41,
Pooh-pooh theory of origin of lan-    50-51, 121-4.
guage, 426.                          Reflexive or middle forms of IndoPortuguese language, 189, 219.           European verbs, 268.
possess, 112.                          reign, 468.
Possessive case in English, 77, 82, 274. Relational and auxiliary words, 117-20;
)ost, 107.                               in monosyllabic languages, 335-7.
Pott, Professor A. F., referred to, 5.  Relationship, names of, as signs of InPrakrit languages, 225.                  do-European unity, 195; examples,
prieach, 262.                            196.
Prefixes, their rarity in Indo-European  Relative words, their derivation, 114.
language, 292; their prevalence in  reliable, 40-41.
Polynesian, 339; in Atfrican, 344-5.   Renan, M. Ernest, referred to, vii. note,
Prepositions, in Indo-European lan-    177 note, 284-6.
guage, 274, 276, 292.                reproach, 113.
Present tense in Indo-European lan-  Rhoeto-Romanic language, 189, 213.
guage, special theme of, 269.        right, 113.
p- iest, 102.                          Rig-Veda, 226.
P'rocess of linguistic growth, what it is, Romaic, or Modern Greek, language,
154.                                   221.
Plocosses of linguistic growth —see  Romanic languages, their origin, 165-8,
Change, linguistic.                    189; age, literature, etc., 218 -19;
Pronominal roots, Indo-European, 258-    futures of, 118.
9; whether primitive, 261.           romantic, 131.
Pronouns, their nature, 258; derivation,  Roots, monosyllabic, the germs of Indoin Indo-European  language, 258-9;    European language, 255-66, 279-86
declension, 275; part played by pro-    their sufficiency, 257; their divisio_
nouns in form-making, 266, 271, 290,   into proncminal and verbal, 258-9




602                               INDEX.
261; examplesf 259; their signifi-  second, 108-9.
cance, 259-60, 285; how far abso-  Semitic alphabet, 461-3.
lutely primitive, 261-4; difficulties  Semitic family of languages, 234, 294and objections answered, 256-7, 260-    308; its branches, their age ant lit.
66, 279-86; development of inflective    erature, and history of the races
speech from them, 266-77, 286; roots   speaking them, 294-300; characterat the basis of all linguistic develop-    istic structural features, 300-306, 360ment, 289, 397; triliteral Semitic    61; triliteral roots, 301-3; internal
roots, 301; fixedness of Scythian    flexion, 301, 361; conjugation, 303)
roots, 317; roots of Polynesian lan-    declension, 304; syntax, 304; stiffguage, 338; of Egyptian, 342; roots   fness of meaning and persistence of
of Chinese and other monosyllabic   form  in Semitic words, 304-5; as.
languages, their words also, 330-32,    serted connection, with this family,
334-7; various treatment of roots, in    of Egyptian and other African dialangiuages of different structure, 360;    lects, 306-7, 343; of Indo-European
futility of comparison of roots of dif-   family, 307, 394.
ferent families, 392-4; roots, how   Semivowels, 91.
originated, 426-34; of what charac-  Servian language, 191, 214.
ter and office, 423-6; their scantiness  seven, 196.
at the outset, 434.                  Shah-Nameh, Persian epic of Firdusi,
rubber, 130.                             223, 325.
Russian language, 191, 214; its syn-  shall and will, 86, 118.
thetic character, 281.               Shelter, analogy  between language
Ruthenian language, 214.  e              and, 401-3.
Shemitic family- see Semitic.
-s, as ending, in English, of third per-  Shi-King, Chinese classic, 332.
son singular present of verbs, 63, 93,  -ship, 60.
267; of possessive case, 82; of plu-  Shoshonee language, 350.
ral, 82.                             Siamese language, 336.
Sabean language, 299.                  Sibilants, 91.
Sabellian or Sabine language, 220.     Sigismund of Germany, as languageSamaritan language, 297.                 maker, 36.
Samoyedic branch of Scythian lan-  Signification of words, changes of, 100guage, 309-10.                         123.
Sanskrit language, 150, 192, 225-9; its  Silent letters in English words, 28.
intrusion into India, 201; its impor-  Sinai, inscriptions of, 299.
tance to Indo-European philology, 4,  Sioux language, 350.
228-9.                               Siryanian language, 309.
Santal language, 327.                  sister, 387.
Sassanian inscriptions, 223.           Skipetar language - see Albanian.
Scandinavian group of Germanic lan-  slaeve, 131.
guages, 188, 210, 212.               Slavic or Slavonic branch of Indo.
Schlegels, the brothers August Wilhelm   European languages, 191, 213-15.
and Friedrich von, referred to, 5.   Slovakian language, 214.
Schleicher, Professor August, quoted or  Slovenian language, 214.
referred to, vi., 47 note, 163 note, 200, smith, 105.
203, 214 note, 272 note, 303 niote, 331  Smith, 105.
note; his system  of morphological  Smithsonian Institution, 353.
notation explained, 364-7.           Social nature of man, relation of speech
schooner, 38.                            to, 403-5, 440-41.
Science of language —see Linguistic  Sonant and surd letters, 91; their ex
science.                               changes, 92-3.
Scvthian or Altaic family of languages,  Sorbian language. 214.
308-21, 324-28; its branches, their  sound, 387.
age and literature, and history of the  Sounds, articulate - see Articalate.
races speaking them, 308-15; uncer-  South -African family of languages
tainty of the tie connecting them,    344-5.
315-i6, 320-21, 324; chiracterislic  sovereign, 468.
stuctaral features, 316-20.          spake, 29.




rNDELX.                              503
Sparish language, 189, 219; German  Tenst.s, developmeht of It ao- European
and Arabic elements in, 168           266-70; Semitic, 303; Scythian, 320;
Spirants, 91; their derivation, 92.     modern preterits in Germanic lan.
spirit, 112.                            guages, 79-82, 117; English perfects
splsh, 425.                            and futures, 117-19; Romanic fuState languages. so called, 363.        tures, 118.
Steinthal, Proressor H., referred to, vi., Terminology, artificial production of a,
338 note, 367, 448 note, 450 note.    122.
Structure, characteristic, of different -th, ending of third person singular
families of language, 291-4. 357-69.    present in English verbs, 63, 93, 267.
Study of language- see Linguistic  -th, noun suffix, 64.
science.                            than, 115.
rsbject, 112.                         thank, 111.
Subjunctive mood, origin of, 268; loss  that, pronoun, 430.
of, in English, 86-7.               that, conjunction, 114.
sebstantial, 112.                     the, 114, 115.
Substantive verb, derivation of, 115; thou, 196.
wanting in Semitic, 304.            Thought, relation of language and, 403szch, 57.                               21; the two not identical, 405-11; not
Suffixes, how produced, 57-64; their   coterminous, 411; how far thought is
universal presence in Indo-European    carried on in language, 412-13; its
words, 65, 292; primary and second-    processes aided by speech, 417-21;
ary, 255.                             such thought as ours only made possun, 103-4.                             sible by expression, 420; insufficiency
Suras, language of, 327.                of language as expression of thought,
Surd and sonant letters, 91; their ex-    20, 109-11, 406-7.
changes, 92.                        three, 196.
sure, 111.                            throng, 262.
Swabian dialect of Old High-German,  Tiberius of Rome, as language-maker,
211; of Middle High-German, 163,   36.
212.                                Tibetan language, 337.
Swedish language, 2]2.                Time, peculiar treatment of, in Semitic
Swift, Dean, caricature of etymological    verb, 303.
processes by, 389-90.               to, infinitive sign, 119.
sycophant, 130.                       topqallantsails, 72.
Syllabic mnodes of writing, 460-61.   Tradition, the means by which a IanSyllable, nature of, 89.                guage is kept in existence, 23; its
Symbolism, signs of, in Semitic word-    defects, and their consequences, 27formation, 302; in beginnings of    32; causes aiding its strictness, 148speech, 430.                          51; tradition of speech and knowlSymbols, forerunners of writing, 449.   edge together, 441-5; its guiding insympathy, 112.                          fluence on the mind, 445-6.
Synonymous words, 110.                Triliterality of Semitic roots, 301-3.
Syriac language, 294, 297, 298, 306;  Troubadours, songs of, 218.
alphabet, its diffusion, 313, 462.  true, 64, 179.
Syro-Arabian family -see Semitic.    truth, 64.
Tudas, language of, 327.
Tvlmuds, 298.                         Tulu language, 326.
Tamil language, 326.                  Tungusic branch of Scythian language,
Tamulian languages, 326.                312.
Targums, 298.                         Turanian family, so called, 309; origin
Tartaric or Tataric family - see Scyth-    and first application of the name, 325
ian.                                turkey, 130.
Tartar and Tatar, 38.                 Turkish branch of Scythian language
Teshnical vocabularies, their relation    191-2; divisions, age, literature, etc.
to a language, 19, 23, 156.           310-11, 313-14; characteristic etract
telegram, 40.                           ural features, 198, 318-20.
"eL.9agrah, 83, 146.                  Turkomans, langua/ e of, 311.
rl.Aga or Telugu language, 326.       two, 196.




U, the letter, derivation of, 465.    Vowel and consonant, relation of, 89
ligrian, or Finno-Hungarian, branch of    91.
Scythian language, 309, 320, 361;  Vowels, changes of value of, 94-5;
age, literature, etc., 314.           classification and harmonic sequenct
Uigur Turkish language, 311, 313; al-   of, in Scythian languages, 318; lnpllabet, 313, 462.                    perfect designation of, in some alphaUlfilas, Gothic bishop, 213.            bets, 461-3.
Umbrian language, 165, 220.
understand, 113, 133.                  V, the letter, derivation of, 466.
Unity of the human race, not demon-  Wallachian language, 189, 218.
strable by evidence of language, was, 115.
383-94.                             Wedgwood, Professor H., referred tq
UJral-Altaic family- see Scythian.      vi. note.
Urdu language, 224.                   Welsh language, 190, 217-18.
Usage, the sole standard of correct  which, 57.
speech, 14, 32, 36-40, 128; good and  who, relative, 115.
bad usage, 16-17, 22.               whole, 242.
Usbeks, language of, 311.             will and shall, 86, 118.
Woguls, language of, 309.
V, the letter, derivation of, 464, 465, women, 468.
466.                                Words, mere signs, not depictions of
Value of language, 440-47.              ideas, 20-22, 32, 70-71, 111; the sole
Variety of expression for same thought,   tie between words and ideas a mental
407-9.                                association, 14, 32, 409; words posteVariety of human races, not demonstra-   rior to the conceptions they repreble bv evidence of language, 384-5.    sent, 125-6, 411-12; their value to
Vater, referred to, 4.                  us dependent on conventional usage,
Vedas, Hindu scripture, and their lan-    not etymology, 14, 128-9, 132-4, 404,
guage, 225-7.                         409; how far we think in or with
Vei language and alphabet, 346.         words, 410-20; word-making a hisvend, 262.                              torical process, 126-9; history of
Vendidad, geographical notices in, 201    words, why studied, 129; linguistic
note.                                 science founded on their study, 54-5,
Verbal roots, 259.                      its method, 238-9, 247-8; words
Verbs and verbal forms, their develop-    made up of elements originally inment in Indo-European languages,   dependent, 55-67; their phonetic
266-70; Semitic verb, 303; Scythian,   changes, 69-98; their changes of
319-20; Polynesian, 338; question    meaning, 100-121; identity of words
whether verbs or Dnuns are earliest,   and roots in monosyllabic languages
423-6.                                330-31.
verity, 178.                          work, 30.
viz., 459.                            Wotiak language, 309.
Vocabulary, different extent of, in per-  Writing, auxiliary  and complement
sons of different age and condition,    of speech, 447; parallelisms between
18-20; changes of, 25-7; its increase,   its origin and history and those
25-6, 41, 139; its reduction, 27, 98-    of speech, 448, 449, 451, 453, 456
100, 139; impregnation with fuller    457, 458, 4594 desire of communicaknowledge, 123, 141; enrichment by    tion its primary impulse, 448; not a'
borrowing, 143-5.                     first connected with and subordinated
Vocabulary, English, its extent, 18;   to spoken language, 449; its forerun
part of it used by different classes,   ners and historical beginnings, 449-,
18-20: found in  Shakspeare and    50; picture-writing, 450-52; hieroMlilton, 23; its changes, 25-7, 140-47.    glyphs, 452 seq.; Egyptian writing
Vocabulary, primlitive Indo-European    452 —5; Chinese, 455-9; cuneiformnn
attempted restoration of, 205-6.      459-60; syllabic, 460-61; Semitic or
Voice, as means of expression 421-3.    Phenician, 461-3; Greek and its
Volga, Mongol tribes on, 312.           derivatives, 463 seq.; Latin, 461
Volscian language, 220.                 English, 466.
Voltaire on etymology, 386           wrong, 113.




INDEX                                 505
wrought, 30, 111.                      Yukagiri language, 333.
Y, the letter, derivation of, 466.     Z, the letter, derivation of, 438,
Zend-avesta, 201 note, 222.
Y, the letter, derivation of, 464, 466  Zend language, 150, 222.
Yakult language, 310-11.               Zingian tamily- see South.A-ieCa
Yilllmato, Japanese dialect, 328.      Zoroaster, 222.',:Wll,30.                           zounds, 277.
f eaiaean language, 355.               Zulu language, 344-.