The English Language

by R. G. Latham

Now if, over and above the remarks upon the English language, and the languages allied to it, there occur in the present volume, episodical discussions of points connected with other languages, especially the Latin and Greek, it is because a greater portion of the current ideas on philological subjects

is taken from those languages than from our own. Besides which, a second question still stands over. There is still the question as to the relative disciplinal merits of the different non-vernacular languages of the world. What is the next best vehicle for philological philosophy to our mother-tongue, whatever that mother-tongue maybe? Each Athenian who fought at Salamis considered his own contributions to that great naval victory the greatest; and he considered them so because they were his own. So it is with the language which we speak, and use, and have learned as our own. Yet each same Athenian awarded the second place of honour to Themistocles. The great classical languages of Greece and Rome are in the position of Themistocles. They are the best when the question of ourselves and our possessions is excluded. They are the best in the eyes of an indifferent umpire. More than this; if we take into account the studies of the learned world, they are second only to the particular mother-tongue of the particular student, in the way of practical familiarity. Without either affirming or denying that, on the simple scores of etymological regularity, etymological variety, and syntactic logic, the Sanskrit may be their equal, it must still be admitted that this last-named language has no claims to a high value as a practical philological discipline upon the grounds of its universality as a point of education; nor will it have. Older than the Greek, it may (or may not) be; more multiform than the Latin, it may (or may not) be: but equally rich in the attractions

of an unsurpassed literature, and equally influential as a standard of imitation, it neither has been nor can be. We may admit all that is stated by those who admire its epics, or elucidate its philosophy; we may admire all this and much more besides, but we shall still miss the great elements of oratory and history, that connect the ancient languages of Greece and Italy with the thoughts, and feelings, and admiration of recent Europe.

The same sort of reasoning applies to the Semitic languages. One element they have, in their grammatical representation, which gives them a value in philological philosophy, in the abstract, above all other languages—the generality of the expression of their structure. This is symbolic, and its advantage is that it exhibits the naturally universal phenomena of their construction in a universal language. Yet neither this nor their historical value raises them to the level of the classical languages.

Now, what has just been written has been written with a view towards a special inference, and as the preliminary to a practical deduction; and it would not have been written but for some such ulterior application. If these languages have so high a disciplinal value, how necessary it is that the expression of their philological phenomena should be accurate, scientific, and representative of their true growth and form? How essential that their grammars should exhibit nothing that may hereafter be unlearned? Pace grammaticorum dixerim, this is not the case. Bad

as is Lindley Murray in English, Busby and Lilly are worse in Greek and Latin. This is the comparison of the men on the low rounds of the ladder. What do we find as we ascend? Is the grammatical science of even men like Mathiæ and Zump much above that of Wallis? Does Buttmann's Greek give so little to be unlearned as Grimm's German? By any one who has gone far in comparative philology, the answer will be given in the negative.

This is not written in the spirit of a destructive criticism. If an opinion as to the fact is stated without reserve, it is accompanied by an explanation, and (partially, perhaps) by a justification. It is the business of a Greek and Latin grammarian to teach Greek and Latin cito, tute, ac jucunde,—cito, that is, between the years of twelve and twenty-four; tute, that is, in a way that quantities may be read truly, and hard passages translated accurately; jucunde, that is, as the taste and memory of the pupil may determine. With this view the grammar must be artificial. Granted. But then it should profess to be so. It should profess to address the memory only, not the understanding. Above all it should prefer to leave a point untaught, than to teach it in a way that must be unlearned.

In 1840, so little had been done by Englishmen for the English language, that in acknowledging my great obligations to foreign scholars, I was only able to speak to what might be done by my own countrymen. Since then, however, there has been a good

beginning of what is likely to be done well. My references to the works of Messrs. Kemble, Garnet, and Guest, show that my authorities are now as much English as German. And this is likely to be the case. The details of the syntax, the illustrations drawn from our provincial dialects, the minute history of individual words, and the whole system of articulate sounds can, for the English, only be done safely by an Englishman: or, to speak more generally, can, for any language, only be dealt with properly by the grammarian whose mother-tongue is that language. The Deutsche Grammatik of Grimm is the work not of an age nor of a century, but, like the great history of the Athenian, a κτῆμα εἰς ἀεί. It is the magazine from whence all draw their facts and illustrations. Yet it is only the proper German portion that pretends to be exhaustive. The Dutch and Scandinavians have each improved the exhibition of their own respective languages. Monument as is the Deutsche Grammatik of learning, industry, comprehensiveness, and arrangement, it is not a book that should be read to the exclusion of others: nor must it be considered to exhibit the grammar of the Gothic languages, in a form unsusceptible of improvement. Like all great works, it is more easily improved than imitated. One is almost unwilling to recur to the old comparison between Aristotle, who absorbed the labour of his predecessors, and the Eastern sultans, who kill-off their younger brothers. But such is the case with Grimm and his fore-runners in philology. Germany, that, in

respect to the Reformation, is content to be told that Erasmus laid the egg which Luther hatched, must also acknowledge that accurate and systematic scholars of other countries prepared the way for the Deutsche Grammatik,—Ten Kate in Holland; Dowbrowsky, a Slavonian; and Rask, a Dane.