From Hugh Blair, Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles
Lettres
(chapters
on universal grammar)
(based
on the edition reproduced by The Garland Press, 1970)
Lecture
VI, The Rise and Progress of Language
Lecture VII, The Rise and Progress of Language, and of Writing
Lecture VIII, The Structure of Language
LECTURE
VI
The
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 connexion between the ideas
of the mind and the sounds emitted, will appear from what I am
afterwards to offer. But as the natural connexion can, upon any
system, affect only a small part of the fabric of Language; the
connexion 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 ornament
also; not satisfied with having the conceptions of others made
known to us, we make a farther 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
one another? 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 nature 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 each other'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 began
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
a 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 generally
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 effect 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 "buzz", 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 obscure, 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 of 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 NATURE, AN IMPOSITIONE?; 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?
This
principle, however, of a natural relation between words and objects,
can only be applied to Language in its most simple and primitive
state. Though, in every Tongue, some remains of it, as I have
shown above, can be traced, it were utterly in vain to search
for it throughout the whole construction of any modern Language.
As the multitude of terms increase in every nation, and the immense
field of Language is filled up, words, by a thousand fanciful
and irregular methods of derivation and composition, come to deviate
widely from the primitive character of their roots, and to lose
all analogy or resemblance in sound to the things signified. Words,
as we now employ them, taken in the general, may be considered
as symbols, not as imitations; as arbitrary, or instituted, not
natural sings of ideas. But there can be no doubt, I think, that
Language, the nearer we remount to its rise among men, will be
found to partake more of a natural expression. As it could be
originally formed on nothing but imitation, it would, in its primitive
state, be more picturesque; much more barren indeed, and narrow
in the circle of its terms, than now; but as far as it went, more
expressive by sound of the thing signified. This, then, may be
assumed as one character of the first state, or beginnings, of
Language, among every savage tribe.
A second
character of Language, in its early state, is drawn from the manner
in which words were at first pronounced, or uttered, by men. Interjections,
I showed, or passionate exclamations, were the first elements
of Speech. Men laboured to communicate their feelings to one another,
by those expressive cries and gestures which nature taught them.
After words, or names of objects, began to be invented, this mode
of speaking, by natural signs, could not be all at once disused.
For Language, in its infancy, must have been extremely barren;
and there certainly was a period, among all rude nations, when
conversation was carried on by a very few words, intermixed with
many exclamations and earnest gestures. The small stock of words
which men as yet possessed, rendered these helps absolutely necessary
for explaining their conceptions; and rude, uncultivated men,
not having always at hand even the few words which they knew,
would naturally labour to make themselves understood, by varying
their tones of voice, and accompanying their tones with the most
significant gesticulations they could make. At this day, when
persons attempt to speak in any Language which they possess imperfectly,
they have recourse to all these supplemental methods, in order
to render themselves more intelligible. The plan too, according
to which I have shown, that Language was originally constructed,
upon resemblance or analogy, as far as was possible, to the thing
signified, would naturally lead men to utter their words with
more emphasis and force, as long as Language was a sort of painting
by means of sound. For all those reasons this may be assumed as
a principle, that the pronunciation of the earliest Languages
was accompanied with more gesticulation, and with more and greater
inflections of voice, than what we now use; there was more action
in it; and it was more upon a crying or singing tone.
To
this manner of speaking, necessity first gave rise. But we must
observe, that, after this necessity had, in a great measure, ceased,
by Language becoming, in process of time, more extensive and copious,
the ancient manner of Speech still subsisted among many nations;
and what had arisen from necessity, continued to be used for ornament.
Wherever there was much fire and vivacity in the genius of nations,
they were naturally inclined to a mode of conversation which gratified
the imagination so much; for, an imagination which is warm, is
always prone to throw both a great deal of action, and a variety
of tones, into discourse. Upon this principle, Dr. Warburton accounts
for so much speaking by action, as we find among the Old Testament
Prophets; as when Jeremiah breaks the potter's vessel, in sight
of the people; throws a book into the Euphrates; puts on bonds
and yokes; and carries out his household stuff; all which, he
imagines, might be significant modes of expression, very natural
in those ages, when men were accustomed to explain themselves
so much by actions and gestures. In like manner, among the Northern
American tribes, certain motions and actions were found to be
much used as explanatory of their meaning, on all their great
occasions of intercourse with each other; and by the belts and
strings of wampum, which they gave and received, they were accustomed
to declare their meaning, as much as by their discourses.
With
regard to inflections of voice, these are so natural, that, to
some nations, it has appeared easier to express different ideas,
by varying the tone with which they pronounced the same word,
than to contrive words for all their ideas. This is the practice
of the Chinese in particular. The number of words in their Language
is said not to be great; but, in speaking, they vary each of their
words on no less than five different tones, by which they make
the same word signify five different things. This must give a
great appearance of music or singing to their Speech. For those
inflections of voice which, in the infancy of Language, were no
more than harsh or dissonant cries, must, as Language gradually
polishes, pass into more smooth and musical sounds: and hence
is formed, what we call, the Prosody of a Language.
It
is remarkable, and deserves attention, that, both in the Greek
and Roman Languages, this musical and gesticulating pronunciation
was retained in a very high degree. Without having attended to
this, we shall be at a loss in understanding several passages
of the Classics, which relate to the public speaking, and the
theatrical entertainments, of the ancients. It appears, from many
circumstances, that the prosody both of the Greeks and Romans,
was carried much farther than ours; or that they spoke with more,
and stronger, inflections of voice than we use. The quantity of
their syllables was much more fixed than in any of the modern
Languages, and rendered much more sensible to the ear in pronouncing
them. Besides quantities, or the difference of short and long,
accents were placed upon most of their syllables, the acute, grave,
and circumflex; the use of which accents we have now entirely
lost, but which, we know, determined the speaker's voice to rise
or fall. Our modern pronunciation must have appeared to them a
lifeless monotony. The declamation of their orators, and the pronunciation
of their actors upon the stage, approached to the nature of recitative
in music; was capable of being marked in notes, and supported
with instruments; as several learned men have fully proved. And
if this was the case, as they have shown, among the Romans, the
Greeks, it is well known, were still a more musical people than
the Romans, and carried their attention to tone and pronunciation
much farther in every public exhibition. Aristotle, in his Poetics,
considers the music of Tragedy as one of its chief and most essential
parts.
The
case was parallel with regard to gestures: for strong tones, and
animated gestures, we may observe, always go together. Action
is treated of by all the ancient critics, as the chief quality
in every public speaker. The action, both of the orators and the
players in Greece and Rome, was far more vehement than what we
are accustomed to. Roscius would have seemed a madman to us. Gesture
was of such consequence upon the ancient stage, that there is
reason for believing, that, on some occasions, the speaking and
the acting part were divided, which, according to our ideas, would
form a strange exhibition; one player spoke the words in the proper
tones, while another performed the corresponding motions and gestures.
We learn from Cicero, that it was a contest between him and Roscius,
whether he could express a sentiment in a greater variety of phrases,
or Roscius in a greater variety of intelligible significant gestures.
At last, gesture came to engross the stage wholly; for, under
the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, the favorite entertainment
of the Public was the pantomime, which was carried on entirely
by mute gesticulation. The people were moved, and wept at it,
as much as at tragedies; and the passion for it became so strong,
that laws were obliged to be made, for restraining the Senators
from studying the pantomime art. Now, though in declamations and
theatrical exhibitions, both tone and gesture were, doubtless,
carried much farther than in common discourse; yet public speaking,
of any kind, must, in every country, bear some proportion to the
manner that is used in conversation; and such public entertainments
as I have now mentioned, could never have been relished by a nation,
whose tones and gestures, in discourse, were as languid as ours.
When
the Barbarians spread themselves over the Roman Empire, these
more phlegmatic nations did not retain the accents, the tones
and gestures, which necessity at first introduced, and custom
and fancy afterwards so long supported, in the Greek and Roman
Languages. As the Latin Tongue was lost in their idioms, so the
character of speech and pronunciation began to be changed throughout
Europe. Nothing of the same attention was paid to the music of
Language, or to the pomp of declamation, and theatrical action.
Both conversation and public speaking became more simple and plain,
such as we now find it; without that enthusiastic mixture of tones
and gestures, which distinguished the ancient nations. At the
restoration of letters, the genius of Language was so much altered,
and the manners of the people had become so different, that it
was no easy matter to understand what the Ancients had said, concerning
their declamations and public spectacles. Our plain manner of
speaking, in these northern countries, expresses the passions
with sufficient energy, to move those who are not accustomed to
any more vehement manner. But, undoubtedly, more varied tones,
and more animated motions, carry a natural expression of warmer
feelings. Accordingly, in different modern Languages, the prosody
of Speech partakes more of music, in proportion to the liveliness
and sensibility of the people. A Frenchman both varies his accents,
and gesticulates while he speaks, much more than an Englishman.
An Italian, a great deal more than either. Musical pronunciation
and expressive gesture are, to this day, the distinction of Italy.
From
the pronunciation of Language, let us proceed, in the third place,
to consider the Style of Language in its most early state, and
its progress in this respect also. As the manner in which men
at first uttered their words, and maintained conversation, was
strong and expressive, enforcing their imperfectly expressed ideas
by cries and gestures; so the Language which they used, could
be no other than full of figures and metaphors, not correct indeed,
but forcible and picturesque.
For,
first, the want of proper names for every object, obliged them
to use one name for many; and, of course, to express themselves
by comparisons, metaphors, allusions, and all those substituted
forms of Speech which render Language figurative. Next, as the
objects with which they were most conversant, were the sensible,
material objects around them, names would be given to those objects
long before words were invented for signifying the disposition
of the mind, or any sort of moral and intellectual ideas. Hence,
the early Language of men being entirely made up of words descriptive
of sensible objects, it became, of necessity, extremely metaphorical.
For, to signify any desire or passion, or any act or feeling of
the mind, they had no precise expression which was appropriated
to that purpose, but were under a necessity of painting the emotion,
or passion, which they felt, by allusion to those sensible objects
which had most relation to it, and which could render it, in some
sort, visible to others.
But
it was not necessity alone, that gave rise to this figured style.
Other circumstances also, at the commencement of Language, contributed
to it. In the infancy of all societies, men are much under the
dominion of imagination and passion. They live scattered and dispersed;
they are unacquainted with the course of things; they are, every
day, meeting with new and strange objects. Fear and Surprise,
wonder and astonishment, are their most frequent passions. Their
Language will necessarily partake of this character of their minds.
They will be prone to exaggeration and hyperbole. They will be
given to describe every thing with the strongest colours, and
most vehement expressions; infinitely more than men living in
the advanced and cultivated periods of Society, when their imagination
is more chastened, their passions are more tamed, and a wider
experience has rendered the objects of life more familiar to them.
Even the manner in which I before showed that the first tribes
of men uttered their words, would have considerable influence
on their style. Wherever strong exclamations, tones, and gestures,
enter much into conversation, the imagination is always more exercised;
a greater effort of fancy and passion is excited. Consequently,
the fancy kept awake, and rendered more sprightly by this mode
of utterance, operates upon style, and enlivens it more.
These
reasonings are confirmed by undoubted facts. The style of all
the most early Languages, among nations who are in the first and
rude periods of Society, is found, without exception, to be full
of figures; hyperbolical and picturesque in a high degree. We
have a striking instance of this in the American Languages, which
are known, by the most authentic accounts, to be figurative to
excess. The Iroquois and Illinois carry on their treaties and
public transactions with bolder metaphors, and greater pomp of
style, than we use in our poetical productions.
Thus,
to give an instance of the singular style of these nations, the
Five Nations of Canada, when entering on a treaty of peace with
us, expressed themselves by their Chiefs, in the following Language:
We are happy in having buried under ground the red ax, that has
so often been dyed with the blood of our brethren. Now, in this
sort, we inter the ax, and plant the tree of peace. We plant a
tree, whose top will reach the sun; and its branches spread abroad,
so that it shall be seen afar off. May its growth never be stifled
and choked; but may it shade both your country and ours with its
leaves! Let us make fast its roots, and extend them to the utmost
of your colonies. If the French should come to shake this tree,
we would know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our
country. May the Great Spirit allow us to rest in tranquillity
upon our mats, and never again dig up the ax to cut down the tree
of peace! Let the earth be trod hard over it, where it lies buried.
Let a strong stream run under the pit, to wash the evil away out
of our sight and remembrance. -- The fire that had long burned
in Albany is extinguished. The bloody bed is washed clean, and
the tears are wiped from our eyes. We now renew the covenant chain
of friendship. Let it be kept bright and clean as silver, and
not suffered to contract any rust. Let not any one pull away his
arm from it. These passages are extracted from Cadwassader Colden's
History of the Five Indian Nations; where it appears, from the
authentic documents he produces, that such is their genuine style.
Another
remarkable instance is, the style of the Old Testament, which
is carried on by constant allusions to sensible objects. Iniquity,
or guilt, is expressed by A SPOTTED GARMENT; misery, by DRINKING
THE CUP OF ASTONISHMENT; vain pursuits, by FEEDING ON ASHES; a
sinful life, by A CROOKED PATH; prosperity, by THE CANDLE OF THE
LORD SHINING ON OUR HEAD; and the like, in innumerable instances.
Hence, we have been accustomed to call this sort of style the
Oriental Style; as fancying it to be peculiar to the nations of
the East: Whereas, from the American Style, and from many other
instances, it plainly appears not to have been peculiar to any
one region or climate; but to have been common to all nations,
in certain periods of Society and Language.
Hence,
we may receive some light concerning that seeming paradox, that
Poetry is more ancient than Prose. I shall have occasion to discuss
this point fully hereafter, when I come to treat of the Nature
and Origin of Poetry. At present, it is sufficient to observe,
that, from what has been said it plainly appears, that the style
of all Language must have been originally poetical; strongly tinctured
with that enthusiasm, and that descriptive, metaphorical expression,
which distinguishes Poetry.
As
Language, in its progress, began to grow more copious, it gradually
lost that figurative style, which was its early character. When
men were furnished with proper and familiar names for every object,
both sensible and moral, they were not obliged to use so many
circumlocutions. Style became more precise, and, of course, more
simple. Imagination too, in proportion as Society advanced, had
less influence over mankind. The vehement manner of speaking by
tones and gestures, began to be disused. The understanding was
more exercised; the fancy, less. Intercourse among mankind becoming
more extensive and frequent, clearness of style, in signifying
their meaning to each other, was the chief object of attention.
In place of Poets, Philosophers became the instructors of men;
and, in their reasonings on all different subjects, introduced
that plainer and simpler style of composition, which we now call
Prose. Among the Greeks, Pherecydes of Scyros, the Master of Pythagoras,
is recorded to have been the first, who, in this sense, composed
any writing in prose. The ancient metaphorical and poetical dress
of Language, was now laid aside from the intercourse of men, and
reserved for those occasions only, on which ornament was profess |