XVII.—§ 5. Final Answer.
I may here anticipate the results of the following investigation and say that in all those instances in which we are able to examine the history of any language for a sufficient length of time, we find that languages have a progressive tendency. But if languages progress towards greater perfection, it is not in a bee-line, nor are all the changes we witness to be considered steps in the right direction. The only thing I maintain is that the sum total of these changes, when we compare a remote period with the present time, shows a surplus of progressive over retrogressive or indifferent changes, so that the structure of modern languages is nearer perfection than that of ancient languages, if we take them as wholes instead of picking out at random some one or other more or less significant detail. And of course it must not be imagined that progress has been achieved through deliberate acts of men conscious that they were improving their mother-tongue. On the contrary, many a step in advance has at first been a slip or even a blunder, and, as in other fields of human activity, good results have only been won after a good deal of bungling and ‘muddling along.’[81] My attitude towards this question is the same as that of Leslie Stephen, who writes in a letter (Life 454): “I have a perhaps unreasonable amount of belief, not in a millennium, but in the world on the whole blundering rather forwards than backwards.”
Schleicher on one occasion used the fine simile: “Our words, as contrasted with Gothic words, are like a statue that has been rolling for a long time in the bed of a river till its beautiful limbs have been worn off, so that now scarcely anything remains but a polished stone cylinder with faint indications of what it once was” (D 34). Let us turn the tables by asking: Suppose, however, that it would be quite out of the question to place the statue on a pedestal to be admired; what if, on the one hand, it was not ornamental enough as a work of art, and if, on the other hand, human well-being was at stake if it was not serviceable in a rolling-mill: which would then be the better—a rugged and unwieldy statue, making difficulties at every rotation, or an even, smooth, easygoing and well-oiled roller?
After these preliminary considerations we may now proceed to a comparative examination of the chief differences between ancient and modern stages of our Western European languages.
XVII.—§ 6. Sounds.
The student who goes through the chapters devoted to sound changes in historical and comparative grammars will have great difficulty in getting at any great lines of development or general tendencies: everything seems just haphazard and fortuitous; a long i is here shortened and there diphthongized or lowered into e, etc. The history of sounds is dependent on surroundings in many, though not in all circumstances, but surroundings do not always act in the same way; in short, there seem to be so many conflicting tendencies that no universal or even general rules can be evolved from all these ‘sound laws.’ Still less would it seem possible to state anything about the comparative value of the forms before and after the change, for it does not seem to matter a bit for the speaking community whether it says stān as in Old English or stone as now, and thus in innumerable cases. Nay, from one point of view it may seem that any change militates against the object of language (cf. Wechssler L 28), but this is true only of the very moment when the change sets in while people are accustomed to the old sound (or the old signification), and even then the change is only injurious provided it impedes understanding or renders understanding less easy, which is far from always being the case.
There is one scholar who has asserted the existence of a universal progressive tendency in languages, or, as he calls it, a humanization of language, namely Baudouin de Courtenay (Vermenschlichung der Sprache, 1893). He is chiefly thinking of the sound system,[82] and he maintains that there is a tendency towards eliminating the innermost articulations and using instead sounds that are formed nearer to the teeth and lips. Thus some back (postpalatal, velar) consonants become p, b, while others develop into s sounds; cf. Slav slovo ‘word’ with Lat. cluo, etc. Baudouin also mentions the frequent palatalization of back consonants, as in French and Italian ce, ci, ge, gi, but as this is due to the influence of the following front vowel, it should not perhaps be mentioned as a universal tendency of human language. It is further said that throat sounds, which play such a great rôle in Semitic languages, have been discarded in most modern languages. But it may be objected that sometimes throat sounds do develop in modern periods, as in the Danish ‘stød’ and in English dialectal bu’er for butter, etc. A universal tendency of sounds to move away from the throat cannot be said to be firmly established; but for our purpose it is more important to say that even were it true, the value of such a tendency for the speaking community would not be great enough to justify us in speaking of progress towards a truly ‘human’ language as opposed to the more beastlike language of our primeval ancestors. It is true that Baudouin (p. 25) says that it is possible to articulate in the front and upper part with less effort and with greater precision than in the interior and lower parts of the speaking apparatus, but if this is true with regard to the mouth proper, it cannot be maintained with regard to the vocal chords, where very important effects may be produced in the most precise way by infinitely little exertion. Thus in no single point can I see that Baudouin de Courtenay has made out a strong case for his conception of ‘humanization of language.’