But why, it may naturally be asked, why should the discovery of Sanskrit

have wrought so complete a change in the classificatory study of

languages? If Sanskrit had been the primitive language of mankind, or at

least the parent of Greek, Latin, and German, we might understand that it

should have led to quite a new classification of these tongues. But

Sanskrit does not stand to Greek, Latin, the Teutonic, Celtic, and

Slavonic languages in the relation of Latin to French, Italian, and

Spanish. Sanskrit, as we saw before, could not be called their parent, but

only their elder sister. It occupies with regard to the classical

languages a position analogous to that which Provençal occupies with

regard to the modern Romance dialects. This is perfectly true; but it was

exactly this necessity of determining distinctly and accurately the mutual

relation of Sanskrit and the other members of the same family of speech,

which led to such important results, and particularly to the establishment

of the laws of phonetic change as the only safe means for measuring the

various degrees of relationship of cognate dialects, and thus restoring

the genealogical tree of human speech. When Sanskrit had once assumed its

right position, when people had once become familiarized with the idea

that there must have existed a language more primitive than Greek, Latin,

and Sanskrit, and forming the common background of these three, as well as

of the Teutonic, Celtic, and Slavonic branches of speech, all languages

seemed to fall by themselves into their right position. The key of the

puzzle was found, and all the rest was merely a work of patience. The same

arguments by which Sanskrit and Greek had been proved to hold co-ordinate

rank were perceived to apply with equal strength to Latin and Greek; and

after Latin had once been shown to be more primitive on many points than

Greek, it was easy to see that the Teutonic, the Celtic, and the Slavonic

languages also, contained each a number of formations which it was

impossible to derive from Sanskrit, Greek, or Latin. It was perceived that

all had to be treated as co-ordinate members of one and the same class.

The first great step in advance, therefore, which was made in the

classification of languages, chiefly through the discovery of Sanskrit,

was this, that scholars were no longer satisfied with the idea of a

general relationship, but began to inquire for the different degrees of

relationship in which each member of a class stood to another. Instead of

mere _classes_, we hear now for the first time of well regulated

_families_ of language.

A second step in advance followed naturally from the first. Whereas, for

establishing in a general way the common origin of certain languages, a

comparison of numerals, pronouns, prepositions, adverbs, and the most

essential nouns and verbs, had been sufficient, it was soon found that a

more accurate standard was required for measuring the more minute degrees

of relationship. Such a standard was supplied by Comparative Grammar; that

is to say, by an intercomparison of the grammatical forms of languages

supposed to be related to each other; such intercomparison being carried

out according to certain laws which regulate the phonetic changes of

letters.

A glance at the modern history of language will make this clearer. There

could never be any doubt that the so-called Romance languages, Italian,

Wallachian, Provençal, French, Spanish, and Portuguese, were closely

related to each other. Everybody could see that they were all derived from

Latin. But one of the most distinguished French scholars, Raynouard, who

has done more for the history of the Romance languages and literature than

any one else, maintained that Provençal only was the daughter of Latin;

whereas French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese were the daughters of

Provençal. He maintained that Latin passed, from the seventh to the ninth

century, through an intermediate stage, which he called Langue Romane, and

which he endeavored to prove was the same as the Provençal of Southern

France, the language of the Troubadours. According to him, it was only

after Latin had passed through this uniform metamorphosis, represented by

the Langue Romane or Provençal, that it became broken up into the various

Romance dialects of Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal. This theory, which

was vigorously attacked by August Wilhelm von Schlegel, and afterwards

minutely criticised by Sir Cornewall Lewis, can only be refuted by a

comparison of the Provençal grammar with that of the other Romance

dialects. And here, if you take the auxiliary verb _to be_, and compare

its forms in Provençal and French, you will see at once that, on several

points, French has preserved the original Latin forms in a more primitive

state than Provençal, and that, therefore, it is impossible to classify

French as the daughter of Provençal, and as the granddaughter of Latin. We

have in Provençal:—

_sem_, corresponding to the French _nous sommes_,

_etz_, corresponding to the French _vous êtes_,

_son_, corresponding to the French _ils sont_,

and it would be a grammatical miracle if crippled forms, such as _sem_,

_etz_, and _son_, had been changed back again into the more healthy, more

primitive, more Latin, _sommes_, _êtes_, _sont_; _sumus_, _estis_, _sunt_.

Let us apply the same test to Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin; and we shall see

how their mutual genealogical position is equally determined by a

comparison of their grammatical forms. It is as impossible to derive Latin

from Greek, or Greek from Sanskrit, as it is to treat French as a

modification of Provençal. Keeping to the auxiliary verb _to be_, we find

that _I am_ is in

Sanskrit Greek Lithuanian

_asmi_ _esmi_ _esmi_.

The root is _as_, the termination _mi_.

Now, the termination of the second person is _si_, which, together with

_as_, or _es_, would make,

_as-si_ _es-si_ _es-si_.

But here Sanskrit, as far back as its history can be traced, has reduced

_assi_ to _asi_; and it would be impossible to suppose that the perfect,

or, as they are sometimes called, organic, forms in Greek and Lithuanian,

_es-si_, could first have passed through the mutilated state of the

Sanskrit _asi_.

The third person is the same in Sanskrit, Greek, and Lithuanian, _as-ti_

or _es-ti_; and, with the loss of the final _i_, we recognize the Latin

_est_, Gothic _ist_, and Russian _est’_.

The same auxiliary verb can be made to furnish sufficient proof that Latin

never could have passed through the Greek, or what used to be called the

Pelasgic stage, but that both are independent modifications of the same

original language. In the singular, Latin is less primitive than Greek;

for _sum_ stands for _es-um_, _es_ for _es-is_, _est_ for _es-ti_. In the

first person plural, too, _sumus_ stands for _es-umus_, the Greek

_es-mes_, the Sanskrit _’smas_. The second person _es-tis_, is equal to

Greek _es-te_, and more primitive than Sanskrit _stha_. But in the third

person plural Latin is more primitive than Greek. The regular form would

be _as-anti_; this, in Sanskrit, is changed into _santi_. In Greek, the

initial _s_ is dropped, and the Æolic _enti_, is finally reduced to

_eisi_. The Latin, on the contrary, has kept the radical _s_, and it would

be perfectly impossible to derive the Latin _sunt_ from the Greek _eisi_.

I need hardly say that the modern English, _I am_, _thou art_, _he is_,

are only secondary modifications of the same primitive verb. We find in

Gothic—

_im_ for _ism_

_is_ for _iss_

_ist_.

The Anglo-Saxon changes the _s_ into _r_, thus giving—

_eom_ for _eorm_, plural _sind_ for _isind_.

_eart_ for _ears_, plural _sind_

_is_ for _ist_, plural _sind_

By applying this test to all languages, the founders of comparative

philology soon reduced the principal dialects of Europe and Asia to

certain families, and they were able in each family to distinguish

different branches, each consisting again of numerous dialects, both

ancient and modern.

There are many languages, however, which as yet have not been reduced to

families, and though there is no reason to doubt that some of them will

hereafter be comprehended in a system of genealogical classification, it

is right to guard from the beginning against the common, but altogether

gratuitous supposition, that the principle of genealogical classification

must be applicable to all. Genealogical classification is no doubt the

most perfect of all classifications, but there are but few branches of

physical science in which it can be carried out, except very partially. In

the science of language, genealogical classification must rest chiefly on

the formal or grammatical elements, which, after they have been affected

by phonetic change, can be kept up only by a continuous tradition. We know

that French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese must be derived from a

common source, because they share grammatical forms in common, which none

of these dialects could have supplied from their own resources, and which

have no meaning, or, so to say, no life, in any one of them. The

termination of the imperfect _ba_ in Spanish, _va_ in Italian, by which

_canto_, I sing, is changed into _cantaba_ and _cantava_, has no separate

existence, and no independent meaning in either of these modern dialects.

It could not have been formed with the materials supplied by Spanish and

Italian. It must have been handed down from an earlier generation in which

this _ba_ had a meaning. We trace it back to Latin _bam_, in _cantabam_,

and here it can be proved that _bam_ was originally an independent

auxiliary verb, the same which exists in Sanskrit _bhavâmi_, and in the

Anglo-Saxon _beom_, I am. Genealogical classification, therefore, applies

properly only to decaying languages, to languages in which grammatical

growth has been arrested, through the influence of literary cultivation;

in which little new is added, everything old is retained as long as

possible, and where what we call growth or history is nothing but the

progress of phonetic corruption. But before languages decay, they have

passed through a period of growth; and it seems to have been completely

overlooked, that dialects which diverged during that early period, would

naturally resist every attempt at genealogical classification. If you

remember the manner in which, for instance, the plural was formed in

Chinese and other languages examined by us in a former Lecture, you will

see that where each dialect may choose its own term expressive of

plurality, such as _heap_, _class_, _kind_, _flock_, _cloud_, &c., it

would be unreasonable to expect similarity in grammatical terminations,

after these terms have been ground down by phonetic corruption to mere

exponents of plurality. But, on the other hand, it would by no means

follow that therefore these languages had no common origin. Languages may

have a common origin, and yet the words which they originally employed for

marking case, number, person, tense, and mood, having been totally

different, the grammatical terminations to which these words would

gradually dwindle down could not possibly yield any results if submitted

to the analysis of comparative grammar. A genealogical classification of

such languages is, therefore, from the nature of the case, simply

impossible, at least, if such classification is chiefly to be based on

grammatical or formal evidence.

It might be supposed, however, that such languages, though differing in

their grammatical articulation, would yet evince their common origin by

the identity of their radicals or roots. No doubt, they will in many

instances. They will probably have retained their numerals in common, some

of their pronouns, and some of the commonest words of every-day life. But

even here we must not expect too much, nor be surprised if we find even

less than we expected. You remember how the names for father varied in the

numerous Friesian dialects. Instead of _frater_, the Latin word for

brother, you find _hermano_ in Spanish. Instead of _ignis_, the Latin word

for fire, you have in French _feu_, in Italian, _fuoco_. Nobody would

doubt the common origin of German and English; yet the English numeral

“the first,” though preserved in _Fürst_, _prïnceps_, prince, is quite

different from the German “Der Erste;” “the second” is quite different

from “Der Zweite;” and there is no connection between the possessive

pronoun _its_, and the German _sein_. This dialectical freedom works on a

much larger scale in ancient and illiterate languages; and those who have

most carefully watched the natural growth of dialects will be the least

surprised that dialects which had the same origin should differ, not only

in their grammatical framework, but likewise in many of those test-words

which are very properly used for discovering the relationship of literary

languages. How it is possible to say anything about the relationship of

such dialects we shall see hereafter. For the present, it is sufficient if

I have made it clear why the principle of genealogical classification is

not of necessity applicable to all languages; and secondly, why languages,

though they cannot be classified genealogically, need not therefore be

supposed to have been different from the beginning. The assertion so

frequently repeated that the impossibility of classing all languages

genealogically proves the impossibility of a common origin of language, is

nothing but a kind of scientific dogmatism, which, more than anything

else, has impeded the free progress of independent research.

But let us see now how far the genealogical classification of languages

has advanced, how many families of human speech have been satisfactorily

established. Let us remember what suggested to us the necessity of a

genealogical classification. We wished to know the original intention of

certain words and grammatical forms in English, and we saw that before we

could attempt to fathom the origin of such words as “I love,” and “I

loved,” we should have to trace them back to their most primitive state.

We likewise found, by a reference to the history of the Romance dialects,

that words existing in one dialect had frequently been preserved in a more

primitive form in another, and that, therefore, it was of the highest

importance to bring ancient languages into the same genealogical

connection by which French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese are held

together as the members of one family.

Beginning, therefore, with the living language of England, we traced it,

without difficulty, to Anglo-Saxon. This carries us back to the seventh

century after Christ, for it is to that date that Kemble and Thorpe refer

the ancient English epic, the Beowulf. Beyond this we cannot go on English

soil. But we know that the Saxons, the Angles, and Jutes came from the

continent, and there their descendants, along the northern coast of

Germany, still speak _Low-German_, or Nieder-Deutsch, which in the harbors

of Antwerp, Bremen, and Hamburg, has been mistaken by many an English

sailor for a corrupt English dialect. The Low-German comprehends many

dialects in the north or the lowlands of Germany; but in Germany proper

they are hardly ever used for literary purposes. The Friesian dialects are

Low-German, so are the Dutch and Flemish. The Friesian had a literature of

its own as early at least as the twelfth century, if not earlier.(167) The

Dutch, which is still a national and literary language, though confined to

a small area, can be traced back to literary documents of the sixteenth

century. The Flemish, too, was at that time the language of the court of

Flanders and Brabant, but has since been considerably encroached upon,

though not yet extinguished, by the official languages of the kingdoms of

Holland and Belgium. The oldest literary document of Low-German on the

Continent is the Christian epic, the _Heljand_ (Heljand = Heiland, the

Healer or Saviour), which is preserved to us in two MSS. of the ninth

century, and was written at that time for the benefit of the newly

converted Saxons. We have traces of a certain amount of literature in

Saxon or Low-German from that time onward through the Middle Ages up to

the seventeenth century. But little only of that literature has been

preserved; and, after the translation of the Bible by Luther into

High-German, the fate of Low-German literature was sealed.

The literary language of Germany is, and has been ever since the days of

Charlemagne, the _High-German_. It is spoken in various dialects all over

Germany.(168) Its history may be traced through three periods. The

present, or New High-German period dates from Luther; the Middle

High-German period extends from Luther backwards to the twelfth century;

the Old High-German period extends from thence to the seventh century.

Thus we see that we can follow the High-German, as well as the Low-German

branch of Teutonic speech, back to about the seventh century after Christ.

We must not suppose that before that time there was _one_ common Teutonic

language spoken by all German tribes, and that it afterwards diverged into

two streams,—the High and Low. There never was a common, uniform, Teutonic

language; nor is there any evidence to show that there existed at any time

a uniform High-German or Low-German language, from which all High-German

and Low-German dialects are respectively derived. We cannot derive

Anglo-Saxon, Friesian, Flemish, Dutch, and Platt-Deutsch from the ancient

Low-German, which is preserved in the continental Saxon of the ninth

century. All we can say is this, that these various Low-German dialects in

England, Holland, Friesia, and Lower Germany, passed at different times

through the same stages, or, so to say, the same latitudes of grammatical

growth. We may add that, with every century that we go back, the

convergence of these dialects becomes more and more decided; but there is

no evidence to justify us in admitting the historical reality of _one_

primitive and uniform Low-German language from which they were all

derived. This is a mere creation of grammarians who cannot understand a

multiplicity of dialects without a common type. They would likewise demand

the admission of a primitive High-German language, as the source, not only

of the literary Old, Middle, and Modern High-German, but likewise of all

the local dialects of Austria, Bavaria, Swabia, and Franconia. And they

would wish us to believe that, previous to the separation into High and

Low German, there existed one complete Teutonic language, as yet neither

High nor Low, but containing the germs of both. Such a system may be

convenient for the purposes of grammatical analysis, but it becomes

mischievous as soon as these grammatical abstractions are invested with an

historical reality. As there were families, clans, confederacies, and

tribes, before there was a nation; so there were dialects before there was

a language. The grammarian who postulates an historical reality for the

one primitive type of Teutonic speech, is no better than the historian who

believes in a _Francus_, the grandson of Hector, and the supposed ancestor

of all the Franks, or in a _Brutus_, the mythical father of all the

Britons. When the German races descended, one after the other, from the

Danube and from the Baltic, to take possession of Italy and the Roman

provinces,—when the Goths, the Lombards, the Vandals, the Franks, the

Burgundians, each under their own kings, and with their own laws and

customs, settled in Italy, Gaul, and Spain, to act their several parts in

the last scene of the Roman tragedy,—we have no reason to suppose that

they all spoke one and the same dialect. If we possessed any literary

documents of those ancient German races, we should find them all dialects

again, some with the peculiarities of High, others with those of Low,

German. Nor is this mere conjecture: for it so happens that, by some

fortunate accident, the dialect of one at least of those ancient German

races has been preserved to us in the Gothic translation of the Bible by

Bishop Ulfilas.

I must say a few words on this remarkable man. The accounts of

ecclesiastical historians with regard to the date and the principal events

in the life of Ulfilas are very contradictory. This is partly owing to the

fact that Ulfilas was an Arian bishop, and that the accounts which we

possess of him come from two opposite sides, from Arian and Athanasian

writers. Although in forming an estimate of his character it would be

necessary to sift this contradictory evidence, it is but fair to suppose

that, when dates and simple facts in the life of the Bishop have to be

settled, his own friends had better means of information than the orthodox

historians. It is, therefore, from the writings of his own co-religionists

that the chronology and the historical outline of the Bishop’s life should

be determined.

The principal writers to be consulted are Philostorgius, as preserved by

Photius, and Auxentius, as preserved by Maximinus in a MS. lately

discovered by Professor Waitz(169) in the Library at Paris. (Supplement.

Latin. No. 594.) This MS. contains some writings of Hilarius, the two

first books of Ambrosius De fide, and the acts of the Council of Aquileja

(381). On the margin of this MS. Maximinus repeated the beginning of the

acts of the Council of Aquileja, adding remarks of his own in order to

show how unfairly Palladius had been treated in that council by Ambrose.

He jotted down his own views on the Arian controversy, and on fol. 282,

seq., he copied an account of Ulfilas written by Auxentius, the bishop of

Dorostorum (Silistria on the Danube), a pupil of Ulfilas. This is followed

again by some dissertations of Maximinus, and on foll. 314-327, a treatise

addressed to Ambrose by a Semi-arian, a follower of Eusebius, possibly by

Prudentius himself, was copied and slightly abbreviated for his own

purposes by Maximinus.

It is from Auxentius, as copied by Maximinus, that we learn that Ulfilas

died at Constantinople, where he had been invited by the emperor to a

disputation. This could not have been later than the year 381, because,

according to the same Auxentius, Ulfilas had been bishop for forty years,

and, according to Philostorgius, he had been consecrated by Eusebius. Now

Eusebius of Nicomedia died 341, and as Philostorgius says that Ulfilas was

consecrated by “Eusebius and the bishops who were with him,” the

consecration has been referred with great plausibility to the beginning of

the year 341, when Eusebius presided at the Synod of Antioch. As Ulfilas

was thirty years old at the time of his consecration, he must have been

born in 311, and as he was seventy years of age when he died at

Constantinople, his death must have taken place in 381.

Professor Waitz fixed the death of Ulfilas in 388, because it is stated by

Auxentius that other Arian bishops had come with Ulfilas on his last

journey to Constantinople, and had actually obtained the promise of a new

council from the emperors, but that the heretical party, _i.e._, the

Athanasians, succeeded in getting a law published, prohibiting all

disputation on the faith, whether in public or private. Maximinus, to whom

we owe this notice, has added two laws from the Codex Theodosianus, which

he supposed to have reference to this controversy, dated respectively 388

and 386. This shows that Maximinus himself was doubtful as to the exact

date. Neither of these laws, however, is applicable to the case, as has

been fully shown by Dr. Bessell. They are quotations from the Codex

Theodosianus made by Maximinus at his own risk, and made in error. If the

death of Ulfilas were fixed in 388, the important notice of Philostorgius,

that Ulfilas was consecrated by Eusebius, would have to be surrendered,

and we should have to suppose that as late as 388 Theodosius had been in

treaty with the Arians, whereas after the year 383, when the last attempt

at a reconciliation bad been made by Theodosius, and had failed, no mercy

was any longer shown to the party of Ulfilas and his friends.

If, on the contrary, Ulfilas died at Constantinople in 381, he might well

have been called there by the Emperor Theodosius, not to a council, but to

a disputation (ad disputationem), as Dr. Bessell ingeniously maintains,

against the Psathyropolistæ,(170) a new sect of Arians at Constantinople.

About the same time, in 380, Sozomen(171) refers to efforts made by the

Arians to gain influence with Theodosius. He mentions, like Auxentius,

that these efforts were defeated, and a law published to forbid

disputations on the nature of God. This law exists in the Codex

Theodosianus, and is dated January 10, 381. But what is most important is,

that this law actually revokes a rescript that had been obtained

fraudulently by the Arian heretics, thus confirming the statement of

Auxentius that the emperor had held out to him and his party a promise of

a new council.

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