tion is performed by means of somewhat that has a natural likeness and resemblance to the thing imitated, and of consequence is understood by all such are statues and pictures. Description, again, is the raising in the mind the conception of an object by means of some arbitrary or instituted symbols, understood only by those who agree in the institution of them; such are words and writing. Words have no natural resemblance to the ideas or objects which they are employed to signify; but a statue or a picture has a natural likeness to the original. And therefore imitation and description differ considerably in their nature from each other. As far, indeed, as a poet or a historian introduces into his work persons actually speaking; and, by the words which he puts into their mouths, represents the discourse which they might be supposed to hold; so far his art may more accurately be called imitative; and this is the case in all dramatic composition. But, in narrative or descriptive works, it can with no propriety be called so. Who, for instance, would call Virgil's description of a tempest, in the first Æneid, an imitation of a storm? If we heard of the imitation of a battle, we might naturally think of some mock fight, or representation of a battle on the stage, but would never apprehend, that it meant one of Homer's descriptions in the Iliad. I admit, at the same time, that imitation and description agree in their principal effect, of recalling, by external signs, the ideas of things which we do not see. But though in this they coincide, yet it should not be forgotten, that the terms themselves are not synonymous; that they import different means of effecting the same end; and of course make different impressions on the mind.**

Whether we consider poetry in particular, and discourse in general, as imitative or descriptive; it is evident, that their whole power, in recalling the impressions of real objects, is derived from the significancy of words. As their excellency flows altogether from this source, we must, in order to make way for further inquiries, begin at this fountainhead. I shall therefore, in the next lecture, enter upon the consideration of language of the origin, the progress, and construction of which I purpose to treat at some length.

Though in the execution of particular parts, poetry is certainly descriptive rather than imitative, yet there is a qualified sense in which poetry, in the general, may be termed an imitative art. The subject of the poet (as Dr. Gerard has shew in the appendix to his Essay on Taste) is intended to be an imitation, not of things really existing, but of the course of nature: that is, a feigned representation of such events, or such scenes, as though they never had a being, yet might have existed; and which, therefore, by their probability, bear a resemblance to nature. It was probably in this sense, the Aristotle termed poetry a mimetic art. How far either the imitation or the description which poetry employs, in superior to the imitative powers of painting and music, is well shewn by Mr. Harris, in his treatise on music, painting and poetry. The chief advantage which poetry, or discourse in general, enjoys, is, that whereas, by the nature of his art, the painter is confined to the representation of a single moment, writing and discourse can trace a transaction through its whole progress. That moment, indeed, which the painter pitches upon for the subject of his picture, he may be said to exhibit with more advantage than the poet or the orator: inasmuch as he sets before us, in one view, all the minute concurrent circumstances of the event which happens in one individual point of time, as they appear in nature; while discourse is obliged to exhibit them in succession, and by means of a detail which is in danger of becoming tedious, in order to be clear; or, if not tedious, is in danger of being obscure. But to that point of time which he has chosen, the painter being entirely confined, he cannot exhibit various stages of the same action or event; and he is subject to this further defect. that he can only exhibit objects as they appear to the eye, and can very imperfectly delineate characters and sentiments, which are the noblest subjects of imitation or description. The power of representing these with full advantage, gives a high superiority to discourse and writing, above all other imitative parts:

LECTURE VI.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.

HAVING finished my observations on the pleasures of taste, which were meant to be introductory to the principal subject of these lectures, I now begin to treat of language; which is the foundation of the whole power of eloquence. This will lead to a considerable discussion; and there are few subjects belonging to polite literature, which more merit such a discussion. I shall first give a history of the rise and progress of language in several particulars, from its early to its more advanced periods; which shall be followed by a similar history of the rise and progress of writing. I shall next give some account of the construction of language, or the principles of universal grammar; and shall, lastly, apply these observations more particularly to the English tongue.*

Language, in general, signifies the expression of our ideas by certain articulate sounds, which are used as the signs of those ideas. By articulate sounds, are meant those modulations of simple voice or of sound emitted from the thorax, which are formed by means of the mouth and its several organs, the teeth, the tongue, the lips, and the palate. How far there is any natural connection between the ideas of the mind and the sounds emitted, will appear from what I am afterwards to offer. But as the natural connection can, upon any system, affect only a small part of the fabric of language; the connection between words and ideas may, in general, be considered as arbitrary and conventional, owing to the agreement of men among themselves; the clear proof of which is, that different nations have different languages, or a different set of articulate sounds, which they have chosen for communicating their ideas.

This artificial method of communicating thought, we now behold carried to the highest perfection. Language is become a vehicle by which the most delicate and refined emotions of one mind can be transmitted, or, if we may so speak, transfused into another. Not only are names given to all objects around us, by which means an easy and speedy intercourse is carried on for providing the necessaries of life, but all the relations and differences among these objects are minutely marked, the invisible sentiments of the mind are described, the most abstract notions and conceptions are rendered intelligible; and all the ideas which science can discover, or imagination create, are known by their proper names. Nay, language has been carried so far, as to be made an instrument of the most refined luxury. Not resting in mere perspicuity, we require orna

• See Dr. Adam Smith's Dissertation on the Formation of Languages.—Treatise on the Origin and Progress of Language, in 3 vols.-Harris's Hermes, or a Philosophical Inquiry concerning Language and Universal Grammar.-Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines, par PAbbe Condillac.-Principes de Grammaire, par Marsais.-Grammaire Generale et Raisonnée.-Traite de la Formation Mechanique des Langues, par le President de Brosses-Discours sur l'Inegalité parmi les Hommes, par Rosseau-Grammaire Generale, par Beanzée.-Principes de la Traduction, par Batteux.-Warburton's Divine Megation of Moses, vol. iii.-Sanctii Minerva, cum notis Perizonii.-Les Vrais principey de la Langue Francoise, par l'Abbe Girard.

ment also; not satisfied with having the conceptions of others made known to us, we make a further demand, to have them so decked and adorned as to entertain our fancy; and this demand, it is found very possible to gratify. In this state, we now find language. In this state, it has been found among many nations for some thousand years. The object is become familiar; and, like the expanse of the firmament, and other great objects, which we are accustomed to behold, we behold it without wonder.

But carry your thoughts back to the first dawn of language among men. Reflect upon the feeble beginnings from which it must have arisen, and upon the many and great obstacles which it must have encountered in its progress; and you will find reason for the highest astonishment, on viewing the height which it has now attained. We admire several of the inventions of art; we plume ourselves on some discoveries which have been made in latter ages, serving to advance knowledge, and to render life comfortable; we speak of them as the boast of human reason. But certainly no invention is entitled to any such degree of admiration as that of language; which too, must have been the product of the first and rudest ages, if indeed, it can be considered as a human invention at all. Think of the circumstances of mankind when languages began to be formed. They were a wandering scattered race; no society among them except families; and the family society too very imperfect, as their method of living by hunting or pasturage must have separated them frequently from one another. In this situation, when so much divided, and their intercourse so rare, how could any one set of sounds, or words, be generally agreed on as the signs of their ideas? Supposing that a few, whom chance or necessity threw together agreed by some means upon certain signs, yet by what authority could these be propagated among other tribes or families, so as to spread and grow up into a language? One would think, that in order to any language fixing and extending itself, men must, have been previously gathered together in considerable numbers; society must have been already far advanced; and yet, on the other hand, there seems to have been an absolute necessity for speech, previous to the formation of society. For, by what bond could any multitude of men be kept together, or be made to join in the prosecution of any common interest, until once, by the intervention of speech, they could communicate their wants and intentions to each other? So that, either how society could form itself, previously to language, or how words could rise into a language, previously to society formed, seem to be points attended with equal difficulty. And when we consider farther, that curious analogy which prevails in the construction of almost all languages, and that deep and subtle logic on which they are founded, difficulties increase so much upon us, on all hands, that there seems to be no small reason for referring the first origin of all language to divine teaching or inspiration.

But supposing language to have a divine original, we cannot, however, suppose, that a perfect system of it was all at once given to man. It is much more natural to think, that God taught our first parents only such language as suited their present occasions; leaving them, as he did in other things, to enlarge and improve it as their future necessities should require. Consequently, those first rudiments of speech must have been poor and narrow; and we are at full liberty to inquire in what manner, and by what steps, language advanced to the state in which we now find it. The history which I am to give of this progress, will suggest several

things, both curious in themselves, and useful in our future disquisitions.

If we should suppose a period before any words were invented or known, it is clear, that men could have no other method of communicating to others what they felt, than by the cries of passion, accompanied with such motions and gestures as were farther expressive of passion. For these are the only signs which natures teaches all men, and which are understood by all. One who saw another going into some place where he himself had been frightened, or exposed to danger, and who sought to warn his neighbour of the danger, could contrive no other way of doing so than by uttering those cries, and making those gestures, which are the signs of fear just as two men, at this day, would endeavour to make themselves be understood by each other, who should be thrown together on a desolate island, ignorant of one another's language. Those exclamations, therefore, which by grammarians are called interjections, uttered in a strong and passionate manner, were beyond doubt, the first elements or beginnings of speech.

When more enlarged communication became necessary, and names be-gan to be assigned to objects, in what manner can we suppose men to have proceeded in this assignation of names, or invention of words! Undoubtedly, by imitating, as much as they could, the nature of the object which they named, by the sound of the name which they gave to it. As a painter who would represent grass, must employ green colour; so in the beginnings of language, one giving a name to any thing harsh or boisterous, would of course employ a harsh or boisterous sound. He could not do otherwise, if he meant to excite in the hearer the idea of that thing which he sought to name. To suppose words invented, or names given to things, in a manner purely arbitrary, without any ground or reason, is to suppose an effect without a cause. There must have always been some motive which led to the assignation of one name rather than another; and we can conceive no motive which would more universally operate upon men in their first efforts towards language, than a desire to paint by speech, the objects which they named, in a manner more or less complete, according as the vocal organs had it in their power to affect this imitation.

Wherever objects were to be named, in which sound, noise, or motion were concerned, the imitation by words was abundantly obvious. Nothing was more natural, than to imitate, by the sound of the voice, the quality of the sound or noise which any external object made; and to form its name accordingly. Thus, in all languages, we find a multitude of words that are evidently constructed upon this principle. A certain bird is termed the cuckoo, from the sound which it emits. When one sort of wind is said to whistle, and another to roar; when a serpent is said to hiss; a fly to buz, and falling timber to crash; when a stream is said to flow, and hail to rattle; the analogy between the word and the thing signified is plainly discernible.

In the names of objects which address the sight only, where neither noise nor motion are concerned, and still more in the terms appropriated to moral ideas, this analogy appears to fail. Many learned men, however, have been of opinion, that though in such cases, it becomes more obacure, yet it is not altogether lost; but that throughout the radical words of all languages, there may be traced some degree of correspondence with the object signified. With regard to moral and intellectual ideas,

they remark, that in every language, the terms significant of them, are derived from the names of sensible objects to which they are conceived to be analogous; and with regard to sensible objects pertaining merely to sight, they remark, that their most distinguishing qualities have certain radical sounds appropriated to the expression of them, in a great variety of languages. Stability, for instance, fluidity, hollowness, smoothness, gentleness, violence, &c. they imagine to be painted by the sound of certain letters or syllables, which have some relation to those different states of visible objects, on account of an obscure resemblance which the organs of voice are capable to assuming to such external qualities. By this natural mechanism, they imagine all languages to have been at first constructed, and the roots of their capital words formed.*

As far as this system is founded in truth, language appears to be not altogether arbitrary in its origin. Among the ancient Stoic and Platonic philosophers, it was a question much agitated, "Utrum nomina rerum sint natura, an impositione? Que near" by which they meant, whether words were merely conventional symbols; of the rise of which no account could be given, except the pleasure of the first inventors of language? or, whether there was some principle in nature that led to the assignation of particular names to particular objects? and those of the Platonic school favoured the latter opinion.t

This principle, however, of a natural relation between words and ob

The author who has carried his speculations on this subject the farthest, is the Presi dent Des Brosses, in his "Traite de la Formation Mechanique des Langues." Some of the radical letters or syllables which he supposes to carry this expressive power in most known languages are, Št, to signify stability or rest; Fl, to denote fluency; Cl, a gentle descent: R, what relates to rapid motion; C, to cavity or hollowness, &c. A century be fore his time, Dr Wallis, in his grammar of the English language, had taken notice of these significant roots, and represented it as a peculiar excellency of our tongue, that beyond all others, it expressed the nature of the objects which it named, by employing sounds sharper, softer, weaker, stronger, more obscure or more stridulous, according as the idea which is to be suggested requires. He gives various examples. Thus, words, formed upon St, always denote firmness and strength, analogous to the Latin sto; as stand, stay, staff, stop, stout, steady, stake, stamp, stallion, stately, &c. Words beginning with Str, intimate violence, force and energy, analogous to the Greek orgaμ; as, strive, strength, strike, stripe, stress, struggle, stride, stretch, strip, &c. Thr, implies forcible motion: as throw, throb, thrust, through, threaten, thraldom. Wr, obloquy or distortion; as, wry, wrest, wreath, wrestle, wring, wrong wrangle, wrath, wrack, &c. Sw, silent, agitation, or lateral motion; as sway swing, swerve, sweep, swim. Sl, a gentle fall or less observable motion; as, slide, slip, sly, slit, slow, slack, sling. Sp, dissipation or expansion; as spread, sprout, sprinkle, split, spill. spring. Terminations in ash, indicate something acting nimbly and sharply; as, crash, gash, rash, flash, lash, slash. Terminations in ush, something acting more obtusely and dully; as crush, brush, hush, gush, blush. The learned author produces a great many more examples of the same kind. which seem to leave no doubt, that the analogies of sound have had some influence on the formation of words. At the same time, in all speculations of this kind, there is so much room for fancy to operate, that they ought to be adopted with much caution in forming any general theory.

Vid. Plat. in Cratylo. Nomina verbaque non posita fortuito, sed quadam vi et ratione "naturæ facta esse. P. Nigidius in Grammaticis Commentariis docet; rem sane in philosophie dissertationibus celebrem. In eam rem multa argumenta dicit, cur videri possint, verba esse naturalia, magis quam arbitraria. Vos, iniquit, cum dicimus, motu quo. dam oris conveniente, cum ipsius verbi demonstratione utimur, et labias sensim primores "emovemus, ac spiritum atque animam porro versum, et ad eos quibus consermo cinamur "intendimus. At contra cum dicimus Nos, neque profuso intentoque flatu vocis, neque "projectis labiis pronunciamus; sed et spiritum et labias quasi intra nosmet ipsos coerce"mus. Hoc sit idem et in eo quod dicinus, tu, et ego, et mihi et tibi. Nam sicuti cum adnuimaus et abnuimus, motus quodam illo vel capitis, vel oculorem, a natura rei quam "significat, non abhorret, ita in his vocibus quasi gestus quidam oris et spiritus naturalis "est. Eadem ratio est in Graecis quoque vocibus quam esse in nostris animadvertimus," A. GELLIUS, Noct. Attion, lb, x. chap. 4.