Sans. Manas. Gr. Menos. Lat. Mens.

Bone.

Sans. Hadda. Hind. Had.

Sans. Asthi. Lat. Os. Gr. Osteon.

Hand.

Sans. Hasta. Hind. Ht'h. Penj. Hatt'h. Beng. Ht. Pers. Dest.

Sans. Cara. Gr. Cheir. Vulg. Gr. Chere.

Sans. Pni. Wal. Pawen. Ang. Paw.

Knee.

Sans. Jnu. Penj. Jhnu. Pers. Znu. Hind. Gutan. Gr. Gonu. Lat. Genu. Gall. Genou. Sax. Cneow.

Foot.

Sans. Pda, Pad. Or. Pd. Beng. Pod, P. Hind. P, Payar. Lat. Pes (pedis). Gr. Pous (podos). Vulg. Gr. Podare. Gall. Pied. Goth. Fotus. Sax. Fot, Vot. Sue. Foot.

Sans. Anghri. Beng. Onghri. Scl. Noga. Pol. Nogi.

Breast.

Sans. Stana. Beng. Stan. (Ang. Pap.) Gr. Sternon. Lat. Sternum. (Ang. Chest.)

Navel.

Sans. Nbhi. Hind. Nbh. Beng. N. Or. Nahi. Pers. Nf. Gr. Omphalos. Sax. Nafela, Navela.

Ear.

Sans. Car{n}a. Hind. Cn. Arm. Skuarn. Corn. Skevam.

Nose.

Sans. Nasic, Ns, Nasya. Hind. Nc. Penj. Nacca. Casm. Nast. Lat. Nasus. Germ. Nase. Belg. Nuese. Sax. Noese, Nosa. Sue. Nasa. Boh. Nos. Scl. Nus. Dalm. Nooss.

Tooth.

Sans. Danta. Hind. Dnt. Penj. Dand. Pers. Dendan. Wal. Dant. Lat. Dens. Gall. Dent. Gr. Odous (-ontos). Belg. Tant, Tand. Sax. Toth.

Mouth.

Sans. Muc'ha. Hind. Muc'h, Muh, Munh, Mnh. Penj. Mh. Guz. Mh. Sax. Muth.

Elbow.

Sans. Anka, flank; Anga, membrum. Gr. Agkøn.

Voice.

Sans. Vch (vc). Lat. Vox. Gr. Ossa.

Name.

Sans. Nman (-ma). Hind. Nm, Non. Pers. Nm. Gr. Onoma. Lat. Nomen. Gall. Nom. Sax. Nama.

King.

Sans. Rj (-t, -d), Rjan (-j). Hind. Rj. Lat. Rex. Gall. Roy. Wal. Rhuy, Rhiydh. Ir. Righ, Rak.

Kingdom.

Sans. Rjnya (-am). Lat. Regnum.

Town.

Sans. C'hta. Hind. C'hr. Wal. Kaer. Arm. Koer.

House.

Sans. cas. Gr. Oicos.

Sans. Grĭha. Hind. Ghar. Casm. Gar.

Ship or Boat.

Sans. Nau (naus). Gr. Naus. Lat. Navis. Pers. Nau. Hind. Nau, N. Or. N. Carn. Nviya.

A Small Boat.

Sans. Plava. Mah. Plav. Gr. Ploion.

Thing, Wealth.

Sans. Rai (rs). Lat. Res.

Mountain.

Sans. Parvata. Hind. Parbat, Pahr. Penj. Parabat. Carn. Parbatavu.

Sans. Adri. Penj. Adari. Ir. Ard.

Sans. Naga, Aga. Ir. Aigh.

Sans. Grvan (-v), Giri. Lus. Grib. Scl. Hrib.

Rock or Stone.

Sans. Prastara. Hind. Patt'har. Guz. Pat'har. Beng. Pat'har. Gr. Petra. Lat. Petra.

Sans. Grvan (-v). Penj. Garv.

Tree.

Sans. Dru (drus), Druma (-mas). Gr. Drys (Drymos, awood). Epir. Druu. Russ. Dreous. Scl. Drevu.

Sans. Taru. Goth. Triu, Trie. Sax. Treo, Treow. Dan. Tree.

Pomegranate.

Sans. Rhita. Gr. Rhoa, Rhoia.

Horse.

Sans. Gh{t}aca. Hind. Ghr. Guz. Ghr. Casm. Guru. Wal. Goruydh, Govar.

Sans. Haya (-yas). Ant. Sans. Arusha. Isl. Hors, Hestur. Dan. Hest. Sue. Hast. Sax. Hors.

Sans. A{s}va. Penj. Aswa. Pers. Asp.

Ass.

Sans. C'hara. Penj. C'har. Pers. Khar.

Sans. Gardabha. Hind. Gadh. Tirh. Gadah.

Mule.

Sans. A{s}watara. Pers. Astar.

Camel.

Sans. Ush{t}ra. Hind. Unt. Guz. Ut. Penj. Ustar. Pers. Ushtur, Shutur.

Ox, Cow, Bull.

Sans. G (gaus). Hind. Gau, G. Beng. Goru. Pers. Gau. Sax. Cu. Sue. Koo. Belg. Koe. Germ. Kue. Sans. Ucshan (-sh). Sax. Oxa. Dan. Oxe. Isl. Uxe. Boh. Ochse. Germ. Ochs. Wai. Ychs.

Sans. Vrĭsha, Vrĭshan (-sh). Tirh. Brikh. Boh. Byk. Pol. Beik. Dalm. Bak. Lus. Bik. Hung. Bika. Wal. Byuch. Arm. Biych. Corn. Byuh.

Goat.

Sans. Bucca, Barcara. Hind. Bacr. Mahr. Bcar. Guz. Bcar. Beng. Bc. Arm. Buch. Corn. Byk. Sax. Bucca. Gall. Bouc. Sue. Bock. Belg. Bocke. Ital. Becco.

Ewe.

Sans. Avi (-vis). Gr. Ois. Lat. Ovis. Sax. Eowe.

Wool.

Sans. Ur{n}. Hind. Un. Scl. Volna. Pol. Welna. Boh. Wlna. Dalm. Vuna. Sue. Ull. Isl. Ull. Belg. Wul. Germ. Wolle. A.-Sax. Wulle. Wal. Gulan. Corn. Gluan. Arm. Gloan. Ir. Olann.

Hair of the Body.

Sans. Lava. Ir. Lo.

Sans. Lman (-ma), Rman (-ma). Hind. Rn. Beng. Lm, Rm. Casm. Rm. Mah. Rm.

Hair of the Head.

Sans. Csa. Hind. Cs. Casm. Cs. Lat. Crinis.

Sans. Bla. Hind. Bl.

Hog.

Sans. Scara (fem -r). Penj. Sr. Hind. Sr, Swar, S, Sun. Beng. Shcar, Shr. Mahr. Dcar. Tirh. Sgar. Nepal. Surn. Dan. Suin. Sue. Swiin. Lus. Swina. Carn. Swynia, Swine. Ang. Swine. Sax. Sugn. Holl. Soeg, Sauwe. Germ. Sauw. Ang. Sow. Belg. Soch. Lat. Sus. Gr. Hys, Sys. Lacon. Sika. Pers. Khuc. Wal. Hkh. Corn. Hoch, Hoh.

Boar.

Sans. Varha. Hind. Barh. Oris. Barah. Beng. Borh, Bor. Corn. Bora, Baedh. Belg. Beer. Sax. Bar. Ang. Boar. Span. Berraco. Gall. Verrat. Ital. Verro.

Mouse.

Sans. Mshaca, Msh. Hind. Mus, Mus, Mus, Msr, Msn. Penj. Msh. Tirh. Ms. Lat. Mus. Gr. Ms. Sax. Mus.

Bear.

Sans. Ricsha. Hind. Rch'h. Penj. Richh. Guz. Rnchh. Tirh. Rikh.

Sans. Bhalla, Bhallaca, Bhllca. Hind. Bhl, Bhl.

Sans. Ach'ha, Acsha. Gr. Arctos. Wal. Arth.

Wolf.

Sans. Vrĭca. Dalm. Vuuk. Scl. Vulk. Pol. Wulk.

Insect.

Sans. Crĭmi. Pers. Cirm. Beng. Crimi. Tamil. Crimi.

Serpent.

Sans. Ahi (ahis). Gr. Ophis. Sans. Sarpa. Pers. Serp. Lat. Serpens. Hind. Srp.

Cuckoo.

Sans. Cocila. Hind. Coil. Lat. Cuculus. Gr. Kokkyx.

Sans. Pica. Lat. Picus.

Crab.

Sans. Carcata. Beng. Cnc[r], Cnc[r]. Hind. Cncr, Ccr. Gr. Carcinos. Lat. Cancer. Wal. Krank. Corn. Arm. Kankr. Gall. Cancre. Ir. Kruban. Sax. Crabbe. Ang. Crab.

Cucumber.

Sans. Carcat. Beng. Cncur. Hind. Ccr. Lat. Cucumer, Cucumis. Gall. Concombre. Ang. Cucumber.

Sound.

Sans. Swana, Swna. Lat. Sonus. Wal. Sn, Sn, Sain. Sax. Sund.

Sleep.

Sans. Swapna, {S}aya, Swpa. Beng. Shn. Hind. (Supna) Sona [to sleep]. Gr. Hypnos. Wal. Heppian [to sleep]. Sax. Sleepan. Ang. Sleep.

New.

Sans. Nava (m. Navas, f. Nav, n. Navam), Navna. Lat. Novus. Gr. Neos, Nearos. Pers. N. Hind. Nay, Nawn. Beng. Niara. Wal. Corn. Neuydh. Ir. Nadh. Arm. Nevedh, Noadh. Gall. Neuf. Ang. New. Sax. Neow.

Young.

Sans. Yuvan (Yuv). Lat. Juvenis.

Thin.

Sans. Tanus. Lat. Tenuis.

Great.

Sans. Mah. Gr. Megas. Lat. Magnus.

Broad.

Sans. Urus. Gr. Eurus.

Old.

Sans. Jr{n}as. Gr. Geron.

Other.

Sans. Itaras. Gr. Heteros.

Sans. Anyas. Lat. Alius.

Fool.

Sans. Md'has, Mrchas. Gr. Moros.

Dry.

Sans. Cshras. Gr. Xeros.

Sin.

Sans. Agha. Gr. Hagos (veneratio, scelus).

One.

Sans. Eca. Hind. Beng. etc. Ec. Pers. Yc.

Two.

Sans. Dwi (nom. du. Dwau). Hind. Do. Pers. Do. Gr. Dyo. Lat. Duo. Gall. Deux. Corn. Deau. Arm. Dou. Ir. Do. Goth. Twai. Sax. Twu. Ang. Two.

Three.

Sans. Tri (nom. pl. Trayas). Lat. Tres. Gr. Treis. Gall. Trois. Germ. Drei. Holl. Dry. Sax. Threo. Ang. Three. Wal. Arm. Ir. Tri. Corn. Tre.

Four.

Sans. Chatur (nom. pl. Chatwras, fem. Chatasras). Lat. Quatuor. Gall. Quatre. Gr. Tessares. Pers. Chehr. Hind. Chehr.

And.

Sans. Cha. Lat. Que.

Five.

Sans. Pancha. Hind. Pnch. Pers. Penj. Gr. Pente. Arm. Corn. Pemp. Wai. Pymp.

Six.

Sans. Shash. Pers. Shesh. Lat. Sex. Gr. Hex. Gall. Ang. Six. Wal. Khukh. Corn. Huih. Arm. Huekh. Ir. She, Seishear.

Seven.

Sans. Sapta. Lat. Septem. Gall. Sept. Germ. Sieben. Ang. Seven. Sax. Seofon. Gr. Hepta. Pers. Heft. Hind. St. Wal. Saith. Arm. Corn. Seith. Ir. Sheakhd.

Eight.

Sans. Asht'a. Pers. Hasht. Hind. th. Gall. Huit. Sax. Eahta. Ang. Eight. Ir. Okht. Lat. Octo.

Nine.

Sans. Nava. Hind. N. Lat. Novem. Wal. Corn. Nau. Arm. No. Ir. Nyi. Pers. Noh. Gall. Neuf. Sax. Nigon. Ang. Nine.

Ten.

Sans. Da{s}a. Hind. Das. Pers. Dah. Lat. Decem. Ir. Deikh. Arm. Dk. Corn. Dg.

PRONOUNS.

I.

Sans. Aham (acc. M; poss. and dat. M; du. Nau; pl. Nas). Lat. Gr. Ego, etc. Pers. Men. Hind. Mai. Ir. Me. Wal. Corn. Mi. Arm. Ma.

Thou.

Sans. Twam (acc. Tw; poss. and dat. T; du. Vm; pl. Vas). Lat. Tu, etc. Gr. Su, etc. Hind. T, Tain. Beng. Tumi, Tui. Ir. Tu. Pers. To. Arm. Te. Corn. Ta. Wal. Ti.

PREPOSITIONS, ETC.

Sans. Antar. Lat. Inter. Sans. Upari. Gr. Hyper. Lat. Super. Sans. Upa. Gr. Hypo. Lat. Sub. Sans. Apa. Gr. Apo. Sans. Pari. Gr. Peri. Sans. Pra. Gr. Lat. Pro. Sans. Par. Gr. Pera. Sans. Abhi. Gr. Amphi. Sans. Ati. Gr. Anti. Sans. Ama. Gr. Am. Sans. Anu. Gr. Ana.

TERMINATIONS.

Sans. (terminations of comparatives and superlatives) Taras, tamas. Gr. Teros, tatos. Lat. Terus, timus. Sans. Ish{t}has. Gr. Istos.

Sans. (termin. of nouns of agency) Trĭ. Gr. Tor, ter. Lat. Tor.

Sans. (termin. of participle) Tas. Gr. Tos. Lat. Tus.

Sans. (termin. of supine) Tum. Lat. Tum.

VERBS.

To Be, Root AS.

Sans. Asti, Asi, Asmi, Santi, Stha, Smas.

Gr. Esti, Es (Essi), Eimi (D. Emmi), Eisi (D. Enti), Este, Esmen (D.Eimes).

Lat. Est, Es, Sum, Sunt, Estis, Sumus.

To Go, Root I.

Sans. ti, si. mi, Yanti, Itha, Imas.

Lat. It, Is, Eo, Eunt, Itis, Imus.

Gr. Esi, Es, Emi, Esi, Ite, Imen (D. Imes).

To Eat, Root AD.

Sans. Atti, Atsi, Admi, Adanti, Attha, Admas. Lat. Edit, Edis, Edo, Edunt, Editis, Edimus. Gr. Esthiei. Sax. Etan.

To Give, Root DA.

Sans. Dadti, Dadsi, Dadmi. Lat. Dat, Das, Do. Gr. Didøsi, Didøs, Didømi.

Hence, Sans. Dnam, Lat. Donum.

To Join, Root YUJ.

Sans. Yunacti, Yunjanti. Lat. Jungit, Jungunt. Sans. Yunajmi. Gr. Zeugnumi.

Hence, Sans. Yugam. Lat. Yugum. Gr. Zugos, Zugon. Hind. Ju. Sax. Geoc. Ang. Yoke. Dutch. Joek.

To Sit, Root SAD.

Sans. Sdati, Sdanti. Lat. Sedet, Sedent.

Hence, Sans. Sadas. Lat. Sedes.

To Subdue, Root DAM.

Sans. Dmayati. Gr. Damaei. Lat. Domat.

Hence, Damanam. Damnum.

To Drink, Root PA or PƗ

Sans. Pibati, Pibanti; Piyat. Lat. Bibit, Bibunt. Gr. Pinei, Pinousi.

To Die, Root MRĬ.

Sans. Mrĭyat, Mrĭyant. Lat. Moritur, Moriuntur.

Hence, Mrĭtis, Mors, Mrĭtas, Mortuus.

To Know, Root JNYA.

Sans. Jnt, Jnanti. Gr. Ginosco or Gignosco. Lat. Nosco.

Hence, Jnytas. Lat. Ntus. Gr. Gnostos.

To Beget, Root JAN.

Sans. Jyat. Pret. Jajny (pronounced jagy). Gr. Ginomai vel Gignomai. Lat. Gigno.

To Go, Root SRĬP.

Sans. Sarpati. Lat. Serpit. Gr. Herpei.

To See, Root DRĬS.

Gr. Derco. Sans. Drĭ{s}. Hind. Dk'h, to see.

To Procreate, Root SU.

Sans. Syat (rad. S).

Hence, Sans. Sta, son. Hind. Sun. Gr. Huios, Huieus.

To Know, Root VID.

Sans. Vid, to know. Lat. Video, to see.

To Delight, Root TRĬP.

Sans. Trip. Gr. Terpo.

To Strew, Root STRĬ.

Sans. Strĭ. Lat. Sterno. Ang. To strew. Gr. Stornumi, Stronnumi.

ADVERBS, ETC.

Sans. A. Gr. A priv. (before vowels An).

Sans. Su. Gr. E.

Sans. Dus. Gr. Dys.

Sans. Cha. Gr. Te. Lat. Que.

Sans. Na, No. Lat. Ne, Non. Ang. No.

Sans. Chit (in comp.). Lat. Quid. Gr. Ti.

Sans. Nanu. Lat. Nonne.

Sans. Prabhte. Gr. Pro.

Sans. Pura, Puratas. Gr. Pro, Proteros, etc.

Sans. Punar. Gr. Palin.

Sans. Pura. Gr. Palai.

Sans. Alam. Gr. Halis.

Sans. Hyas. Gr. Chthes.

Sans. Adya. Hind. Aj. Lat. Hodie.

[Footnote 1: Miscellaneous Essays. By Henry Thomas Colebrooke. With a Life of the author by his son. In three volumes. London: 1872.]

[Footnote 2: The word Gentoo, which was commonly applied in the last century to the Hindus, is, according to Wilson, derived from the Portuguese word gentio, gentile or heathen. The word caste, too, comes from the same source.]

[Footnote 3: See the list of words given at the end of this article, p.400.]



IX.

MY REPLY TO MR. DARWIN.

During the whole of the year that has just passed away, all my spare time has been required for the completion of my edition of the Rig-Veda and its Sanskrit commentary. Ihad to shut my eyes to everything else. Many a book which I felt tempted to read was put aside, and hardly a single Review could draw me away from my purpose. Thus it has come to pass that I did not know, till a few days ago, that some Lectures which I had delivered at the Royal Institution on "Mr. Darwin's Philosophy of Language," and which had been fully reported in "Fraser's Magazine" for May, June, and July, 1873, had elicited a reply emanating from one who writes if not in, at least with Mr. Darwin's name, and who himself would be, no doubt most proud to acknowledge the influence of "family bias." Icould not have guessed from the title of the paper, "Professor Whitney on the Origin of Language: by George H. Darwin," that it was meant as an answer to the arguments which I had ventured to advance in my Lectures at the Royal Institution against Mr. Darwin's views on language. It was only when telling a friend that I soon hoped to find time to complete those Lectures, that I was asked whether I had seen Darwin's reply. Iread it at once in the November number of the "Contemporary Review;" and, as it will take some time before I can hope to finish my book on "Language as the true barrier between Man and Beast," Idetermined, in the meantime, to publish a brief rejoinder to the defense of Mr. Darwin's philosophy, so ably and chivalrously conducted by his son.

With regard to the proximate cause of Mr. Darwin's defense of his father's views on language—viz. an article in the "Quarterly Review," Imay say at once that I knew nothing about it till I saw Mr. G. Darwin's article; and if there should be any suspicion in Mr. Darwin's mind that the writer in the "Quarterly Review" is in any sense of the word my alter ego I can completely remove that impression.

It seems that the writer in the "Quarterly" expressed himself in the following terms with regard to Mr. Darwin's competency on linguistic problems:—

"Few recent intellectual phenomena are more astounding than the ignorance of these elementary yet fundamental distinctions and principles (i.e., as to the essence of language) exhibited by conspicuous advocates of the monistic hypothesis. Mr. Darwin, for example, does not exhibit the faintest indication of having grasped them."

Mr. Darwin, I mean the father, if he has read my lectures, or anything else I have written, might easily have known that that is not the tone in which I write, least of all when speaking of men who have rendered such excellent service to the advancement of science as the author of the book "On the Origin of Species." To me, the few pages devoted to language by Mr. Darwin were full of interest, as showing the conclusions to which that school of philosophy which he so worthily represents is driven with regard to the nature and origin of language. If put into more becoming language, however, Ido not think there would be anything offensive in stating that Mr. Darwin, Sr., knows the results of the Science of Language at second hand only, and that his opinions on the subject, however interesting as coming from him, cannot be accepted or quoted as authoritative. It has often done infinite mischief when men who have acquired a right to speak with authority on one subject, express opinions on other subjects with which they are but slightly acquainted. These opinions, though never intended for that purpose, are sure to be invested by others, particularly by interested persons, with an authority to which in themselves they have no right whatever. It is true it would be difficult to carry on any scientific work, without to some extent recognizing the authority of those who have established their claim to a certain amount of infallibility within their own special spheres of study. But when either the Pope expresses an opinion on astronomy, or the Duke of Wellington on a work of art, they certainly ought not to be offended if asked for their reasons, like any other mortals. No linguistic student, if he had ventured to express an opinion on the fertilization of orchids, differing from that of Mr. Darwin, would feel aggrieved by being told that his opinion, though showing intelligence, did not show that real grasp of the whole bearing of the problem which can be acquired by a life-long devotion only. If the linguistic student, who may be fond of orchids, cared only for a temporary triumph in the eyes of the world, he might easily find, among the numerous antagonists of Mr. Darwin, one who agreed with himself, and appeal to him as showing that he, though a mere layman in the Science of Botany, was supported in his opinions by other distinguished botanists. But no real advance in the discovery of truth can ever be achieved by such mere cleverness. How can the soundness and truth of Mr. Darwin's philosophy of language be established by an appeal like that with which Mr. Darwin, Jr., opens his defense of his father?

"Professor Whitney," he says, "is the first philologist of note who has professedly taken on himself to combat the views of Professor Max Mller; and as the opinions of the latter most properly command a vast deal of respect in England, we think it will be good service to direct the attention of English readers to this powerful attack, and, as we think, successful refutation of the somewhat dogmatic views of our Oxford linguist."

First of all, nothing would convey a more erroneous impression than to say that Professor Whitney was the first philologist of note who has combated my views. There is as much combat in the linguistic as in the physical camp, though Mr. Darwin may not be aware of it. Beginning with Professor Pott, Icould give a long list of most illustrious scholars in Germany, France, Italy, and surely in England also, who have subjected my views on language to a far more searching criticism than Professor Whitney in America. But even if Professor Whitney were the only philologist who differed from me, or agreed with Mr. Darwin, how would that affect the soundness of Mr. Darwin's theories on language? Suppose I were to quote in return the opinion of M.Renouvier, the distinguished author of "Les Principes de la Nature," who, in his journal, "La Critique Philosophique," expresses his conviction that my criticism of Mr. Darwin's philosophy contains not a simple polmique, but has the character of a rdressement; would that dishearten Mr. Darwin? Imust confess that I had never before read Professor Whitney's "Lectures on Language," which were published in America in 1867; and I ought to thank Mr. Darwin for having obliged me to do so now, for I have seldom perused a book with greater interest and pleasure,—I might almost say, amusement. It was like walking through old familiar places, like listening to music which one knows one has heard before somewhere, and, for that very reason, enjoys all the more. Not unfrequently I was met by the ipsissima verba of my own lectures on the Science of Language, though immediately after they seemed to be changed into an inverted fugue. Often I saw how carefully the same books and pamphlets which I had waded through had been studied: and on almost every page there were the same doubts and difficulties, the same hopes and fears, the same hesitations and misgivings through which I myself well remembered having passed when preparing my two series of "Lectures on Language." Of course, we must not expect in Professor Whitney's Lectures, anything like a systematic or exhaustive treatment. They touch on points which were most likely to interest large audiences at Washington, and other towns in America. They were meant to be popular, and nothing would be more unfair than to blame an author for not giving what he did not mean to give. The only just complaint we have heard made about these Lectures is that they give sometimes too much of what is irreverently called "padding." Professor Whitney had read my own Lectures before writing his; and though he is quite right in saying the principal facts on which his reasonings are founded have been for some time past the commonplaces of Comparative Philology, and required no acknowledgment, he makes an honorable exception in my favor, and acknowledges most readily having borrowed here and there an illustration from my Lectures. As to my own views on the Science of Language, Iam glad to find that on all really important points, he far more frequently indorses them—nay, corroborates them by new proofs and illustrations—than attempts to refute them; and even in the latter case he generally does so by simply pronouncing his decided preference for one out of two opinions, while I had been satisfied with stating what could be said on either side. He might here and there have tempered the wind to the shorn lamb, but I believe there is far more license allowed in America, in the expression of dissent, than in England; and it is both interesting and instructive in the study of Dialectic Growth, to see how words which would be considered offensive in England, have ceased to be so on the other side of the Atlantic, and are admitted into the most respectable of American Reviews.

With regard to the question, for instance, on which so much has lately been written, whether we ought to ascribe to language a natural growth or historical change, Isee not one single argument produced on either side of the question in Professor Whitney's Second Lecture, beyond those which I had discussed in my Second Lecture. After stating all that could be said in support of extending the name of history to the gradual development of language, Itried to show that, after all, that name would not be quite accurate.

"The process," Isaid, "through which language is settled and unsettled combines in one the two opposite elements of necessity and free will. Though the individual seems to be the prime agent in producing new words and new grammatical forms, he is so only after his individuality has been merged in the common action of the family, tribe, or nation to which he belongs. He can do nothing by himself, and the first impulse to a new formation in language, though given by an individual, is mostly, if not always, given without premeditation, nay, unconsciously. The individual, as such, is powerless, and the results, apparently produced by him, depend on laws beyond his control, and on the coperation of all those who form together with him one class, one body, one organic whole." (Page43.)

After going through the whole argument, I summed up in the end by saying:—

"We cannot be careful enough in the use of our words. Strictly speaking, neither history nor growth is applicable to the changes of the shifting surface of the earth. History applies to the actions of free agents, growth to the natural unfolding of organic beings. We speak, however, of the growth of the crust of the earth,[1] and we know what we mean by it; and it is in this sense, but not in the sense of growth as applied to a tree, that we have a right to speak of the growth of language."

What do we find in Professor Whitney's Second Lecture? He objects, like myself, to comparing the growth of language and the growth of a tree, and like myself, he admits of an excuse, viz., when the metaphor is employed for the sake of brevity or liveliness of delineation (p.35). Ihad said:—

"Ever since Horace, it has been usual to compare the changes of language with the growth of trees. But comparisons are treacherous things; and though we cannot help using metaphorical expressions, we should always be on our guard," etc.

So far we are in perfect harmony. But immediately after, the wind begins to blow. One sentence is torn out from the context, where I had said:—

"That it is not in the power of man (not men) either to produce or to prevent change in language; that we might think as well of changing the laws which control the circulation of our blood, or of adding an inch to our height, as of altering the laws of speech, or inventing new words, according to our pleasure."

In order to guard against every possible apprehension as to what I meant by according to our pleasure, I quoted the well-known anecdotes of the Emperor Tiberius and of the Emperor Sigismund, and referred to the attempts of Protagoras, and other purists, as equally futile. Here the Republican indignation of the American writer is roused; I, at least, can find no other motive. He tells me that what I really wanted to say was this:—

"If so high and mighty a personage as an emperor could not do so small a thing as alter the gender and termination of a single word—much less can any one of inferior consideration hope to accomplish such a change." ...

He then exclaims:—

"The utter futility of deriving such a doctrine from such a pair of incidents, or a thousand like them, is almost too obvious to be worth the trouble of pointing out.... High political station does not confer the right to make or unmake language," etc.

Now every reader, even though looking only at these short extracts, will see that the real point of my argument is here entirely missed, though I do not mean to say that it was intentionally missed. The stress was laid by me on the words according to our pleasure; and in order to elucidate that point, Ifirst quoted instances taken from those who in other matters have the right of saying car tel est mon plaisir, and then from others. Ifeel a little guilty in not having mentioned the anecdote about carrosse; but not being able to verify it, Ithought I might leave it to my opponents. However, after having quoted the two Emperors, Iquoted a more humble personage, Protagoras, and referred to other attempts at purism in language; but all that is, of course, passed over by my critic, as not answering his purpose.

Sometimes, amidst all the loud assertion of difference of opinion on Professor Whitney's part, not only the substantial, but strange to say, the verbal agreement between his and my own Second Lecture is startling. Ihad said: "The first impulse to a new formation in language, though given by an individual, is mostly, if not always, given without premeditation, nay, unconsciously." My antagonist varies this very slightly and says: "The work of each individual is done unpremeditately, or, as it were, unconsciously" (p.45). While I had said that we individually can no more change language, selon notre plaisir, than we can add an inch to our stature, Professor Whitney again adopts a slight alteration and expresses himself as follows: "They (the facts of language) are almost as little the work of man as is the form of his skull" (p.52). What is the difference between us? What is the difference between changing our stature and changing our skull? Nor does he use the word growth as applied to language, less frequently than myself; nay, sometimes he uses it so entirely without the necessary limitations, that even I should have shrunk from adopting his phraseology. We read—"In this sense language is a growth" (p.46); "alanguage, like an organic body, is no mere aggregate of similar particles—it is a complex of related and mutually helpful parts" (p.46); "language is fitly comparable with an organized body" (p.50); "compared with them, language is a real growth" (p.51); etc., etc., etc.

In fact, after all has been said by Professor Whitney that had been said before, the only difference that remains is this—that he, after making all these concessions, prefers to class the Science of Language as an historical, not as a physical science. Why should he not? Everybody who is familiar with such questions, knows that all depends on a clear and accurate definition of the terms which we employ. The method of the Science of Language and the physical sciences is admitted, even by him, to be the same (p.52). Everything therefore depends on the wider or narrower definition which we adopt of physical science. Enlarge the definition of the natural sciences, and the science of language will enter in freely; narrow it, and it will enter with difficulty, or not at all. The same with the historical sciences. Enlarge their definition, and the science of language will enter in freely; narrow it, and it will enter with difficulty, or not at all. There is hardly a word that is used in so many different meanings as nature, and that man in many of his apparently freest acts is under the sway of unsuspected laws of nature, cannot sound so very novel to a student of Kant's writings, to say nothing of later philosophers.[2] My principal object in claiming for the Science of Language the name of a physical science, was to make it quite clear, once for all, that Comparative Philology was totally distinct from ordinary Philology, that it treats language not as a vehicle of literature, but for its own sake; that it wants to explain the origin and development far more than the idiomatic use of words, and that for all these purposes it must adopt a strictly inductive method. Many of these views which, when I delivered my first lectures, met with very determined opposition, are now generally accepted, and I can well understand, that younger readers should be surprised at the elaborate and minute arguments by which I tried to show in what sense the Science of Language may be counted as one of the physical sciences. Let them but read other books of the same period, and they will see with how much zeal these questions were then being discussed, particularly in England. Writing in England, and chiefly for English readers, Itried as much as possible to adapt myself to the intellectual atmosphere of that country, and as to the classification of the inductive sciences, Istarted from that which was then most widely known, that of Whewell in his "History of the Inductive Sciences." He classes the Science of Language as one of the palaitiological sciences, but makes a distinction between palaitiological sciences treating of material things—for instance, geology, and others respecting the products which result from man's imaginative and social endowments—for instance, Comparative Philology. He still excludes the latter from the circle of the physical sciences,[3] properly so called, but he adds:—

"We have seen that biology leads us to psychology, if we choose to follow the path; and thus the passage from the material to the immaterial has already unfolded itself at one point; and we now perceive that there are several large provinces of speculation which concern subjects belonging to man's immaterial nature, and which are governed by the same laws as sciences altogether physical. It is not our business to dwell on the prospects which our philosophy thus opens to our contemplation: but we may allow ourselves, in this last stage of our pilgrimage among the foundations of the physical sciences, to be cheered and animated by the ray that thus beams upon us, however dimly, from a higher and brighter region."

Considering the high position which Dr. Whewell held among the conflicting parties of philosophic and religious thought in England, we should hardly have expected that the hope which he expressed of a possible transition from the material to the immaterial, and the place which he tentatively, and I more decidedly, assigned to the Science of Language, could have roused any orthodox animosities. Yet here is the secret spring of Professor Whitney's efforts to claim for the Science of Language, in spite of his own admissions as a scholar, aplace among the moral and historical, as distinct from the physical sciences. The theological bias, long kept back, breaks through at last, and we are treated to the following sermon:—

"There is a school of modern philosophers who are trying to materialize all science, to eliminate the distinction between the physical and the intellectual and moral, to declare for nought the free action of the human will, and to resolve the whole story of the fates of mankind into a series of purely material effects, produced by assignable physical causes, and explainable in the past, or determinable in the future, by an intimate knowledge of those causes, by a recognition of the action of compulsory motives upon the passively obedient nature of man. With such, language will naturally pass, along with the rest, for a physical product, and its study for physical science; and, however we may dissent from their general classification, we cannot quarrel with its application in the particular instance. But by those who still hold to the grand distinction," etc., etc., etc.

At the end of this arguing pro and con., the matter itself remains exactly where it was before. The Science of Language is a physical science, if we extend the meaning of nature so far as to include human nature, in those manifestations at least where the individual does not act freely, but under reciprocal restraint. The Science of Language is an historical, or, as Professor Whitney prefers to call it, amoral science, if we comprehend under history the acts performed by men "unpremeditately, or, as it were, unconsciously," and therefore beyond the reach of moral considerations.

I may seem to have entered more fully into this question than its real importance requires, but I was anxious, before replying to Mr. Darwin's objections, to show to him the general style of argument that pervades Professor Whitney's writings, and the character of the armory from which he has borrowed his weapons against me. Ihave not been able to get access to Professor Whitney's last article, and shall therefore confine myself here to those arguments only which Mr. Darwin has adopted as his own, though, even if I had seen the whole of the American article, Ishould have preferred not to enter into any personal controversy with Professor Whitney. Ihave expressed my sincere appreciation of the industry and acumen which that scholar displays in his lectures on the Science of Language. There are some portions, particularly those on the Semitic and American languages, where he has left me far behind. There are some illustrations extremely well chosen, and worked out with a touch of poetic genius; there are whole chapters where by keeping more on the surface of his subject, he has succeeded in making it far more attractive and popular than I could have hoped to do. That treatment, however, entails its dangers, unless an author remembers, at every moment, that in addressing a popular audience he is in honor bound to be far more careful than if he writes for his own professional colleagues only. The comparative portion, Imean particularly the Seventh Lecture, is hardly what one would have expected from so experienced a teacher, and it is strange to find (p.219) the inscription on the Duilian column referred to about B.C. 263, after Ritschl and Mommsen had pointed out its affected archaisms; to see (p.222) the name Ahura-Mazda rendered by "the mighty spirit;" to meet (p.258) with "sarvanman," the Sanskrit name for pronoun, translated by "name for everything, universal designation;" to hear the Phoenician alphabet still spoken of as the ultimate source of the world's alphabets, etc. Such mistakes, however, can be corrected, but what can never be corrected is the unfortunate tone which Professor Whitney has adopted throughout. His one object seems to be to show to his countrymen that he is the equal of Bopp, Renan, Schleicher, Steinthal, Bleek, Hang, and others—aye, their superior. In stating their opinions, in criticizing their work, in suggesting motives, he shrinks from nothing, evidently trusting to the old adage, semper aliquid hoeret. I have often asked myself, why should Professor Whitney have assumed this exceptional position among Comparative Philologists. It is not American to attack others, simply in order to acquire notoriety. America has possessed, and still possesses, some excellent scholars, whom every one of these German and French savants would be proud to acknowledge as his peers. Mr. Marsh's "Lectures on the English Language" are a recognized standard work in England; Professor's March's "Anglo-Saxon Grammar" has been praised by everybody. Why is there no trace of self-assertion or personal abuse in any of their works? It is curious to observe in Professor Whitney's works, that the less he has thought on certain subjects, the louder he speaks, and where arguments fail him, epitheta ornantia, such as worthless, futile, absurd, ridiculous, superficial, unsound, high-flown, pretentious, disingenuous, false, are poured out in abundance. Ibelieve there is not one of these choice counters with which, at some time or other, he has not presented me; nay, he has even poured the soothing oil of praise over my bruised head. Quand on se permet tout, on peut faire quelque chose. But what has been the result? It has actually become a distinction to belong to the noble army of his martyrs, while, whenever one is praised by him, one feels inclined to say with Phocion, ou d pou ti kakon legn emauton leltha.

What such behavior may lead to, we have lately seen in an encounter between the same American savant and Professor Steinthal, of Berlin.[4] In his earlier writings Professor Whitney spoke of Professor Steinthal as an eminent master in linguistic science, from whose writings he had derived the greatest instruction and enlightenment. Afterwards the friendly relations between the Yale and Berlin professors seem to have changed, and at last Professor Steinthal became so exasperated by the misrepresentations and the overbearing tone of the American linguist, that he, in a moment of irritation, forgot himself so far as to retaliate with the same missiles with which he had been assailed. What the missiles used in such encounters are, may be seen from a few specimens. One could hardly quote them all in an English Review. While dwelling on the system of bold misrepresentation adopted by Professor Whitney, Professor Steinthal calls him—"That vain man who only wants to be named and praised;" "that horrible humbug;" "that scolding flirt;" "that tricky attorney;" "wherever I read him, hollow vacuity yawns in my face; arrogant vanity grins at me." Surely, mere words can go no further—we must expect to hear of tomahawk and bowie-knife next. Scholars who object to the use of such weapons, whether for offensive or defensive purposes, can do nothing but what I have done for years—remain silent, select what is good in Professor Whitney's writings, and try to forget the rest.

Surely, students of language, of all people in the world, ought to know what words are made of, and how easy it is to pour out a whole dictionary of abuse without producing the slightest effect. Apage of offensive language weighs nothing—it simply shows the gall of bitterness and the weakness of the cause; whereas real learning, real love of truth, real sympathy with our fellow-laborers, manifest themselves in a very different manner. There were philosophers of old who held that words must have been produced by nature, not by art, because curses produced such terrible effects. Professor Whitney holds that language was produced thesei, not phusei, and yet he shares the same superstitious faith in words. He bitterly complains that those whom he reviles, do not revile him again. He wonders that no one answers his strictures, and he is gradually becoming convinced that he is unanswerable. Whatever Mr. Darwin, Jr., may think of Professor Whitney as an ally, Ifeel certain that Mr. Darwin, Sr., would be the last to approve the spirit of his works, and that a few pages of his controversial writings would make him say: Non tali auxilio.

I now proceed to examine some of the extracts which Mr. Darwin, Jr., adopts from Professor Whitney's article, and even in them we shall see at once what I may call the spirit of the advocate, though others might call it by another name.

Instead of examining the facts on which my conclusions were founded, or showing, by one or two cases, at least, that I had made a mistake or offended against the strict rules of logic, there appears the following sweeping exordium, which has done service before in many an opening address of the counsel for the defendant:—

"It is never entirely easy to reduce to a skeleton of logical statement a discussion as carried on by Mller, because he is careless of logical sequence and connection, preferring to pour himself out, as it were, over his subject, in a gush of genial assertion and interesting illustration."

Where is the force of such a sentence? It is a mere pouring out of assertions, though without any interesting illustration, and not exactly genial. All we learn from it is, that Professor Whitney does not find it entirely easy to reduce what I have written to a skeleton of logical sequence, but whether the fault is mine or his, remains surely to be proved. There may be a very strong logical backbone in arguments which make the least display of Aldrich, while in others there is a kind of whited and sepulchral logic which seldom augurs well for what is behind and beneath.

There is a very simple rule of logic, sometimes called the Law of the Excluded Middle, according to which either a given proposition or its contradictory must be true. By selecting passages somewhat freely from different parts of Professor Whitney's lectures, nothing would be easier than to prove, and not simply to assert that he has violated again and again that fundamental principle. In his earlier Lectures we are told, that "to ascribe the differences of language and linguistic growth directly to physical causes, .... is wholly meaningless and futile" (p.152). When we come to the great variety of the American languages, we are told that "their differentiation has been favored by the influence of the variety of climate and mode of life." On page 40, we read that a great genius "may now and then coin a new word!" On page 123, we are told "it is not true that a genius can impress a marked effect upon language." On page 177, M.Renan and myself are told that we have committed a serious error in admitting dialects as antecedent feeders of national or classical languages, and that it is hardly worth while to spend any effort in refuting such an opinion. On page 181, we read, "acertain degree of dialectic variety is inseparable from the being of any language," etc., etc., etc.

I should not call this a fair way of dealing with any book; Ionly give these few specimens to show that the task of changing Professor Whitney's Lecture into a logical skeleton would not always be an easy one.

The pleading is now carried on by Mr. G. Darwin:—

"In taking up the cudgels, Mller is clearly impelled by an overmastering fear lest man should lose 'his proud position in the creation' if his animal descent is proved."

I should in nowise be ashamed of the fear thus ascribed to me, but whether it was an overmastering fear, let those judge who have read such passages in my Lectures, as the following:—

"The question is not whether the belief that animals so distant as a man, amonkey, an elephant, and a humming bird, asnake, afrog, and a fish, could all have sprung from the same parents is monstrous, but simply and solely whether it is true. If it is true, we shall soon learn to digest it. Appeals to the pride or humility of man, to scientific courage, or religious piety, are all equally out of place."

If this and other passages in my Lectures are inspired by overmastering fear, then surely Talleyrand was right in saying that language was intended to disguise our thoughts. And may I not add, that if such charges can be made with impunity, we shall soon have to say, with a still more notorious diplomatist, "What is truth?" Such reckless charges may look heroic, but what applied to the famous charge of Balaclava, applies to them: C'est magnifique, sans doute, mais ce n'est pas la guerre.

I am next charged, I do not know whether by the senior or the junior counsel, with maintaining the extraordinary position that if an insensible graduation could be established between ape and man, their minds would be identical.

Here all depends on what is meant by mind and by identical. Does Mr. Darwin mean by "mind" something substantial—an agent that deals with the impressions received through the senses, as a builder deals with his bricks? Then, according to his father's view, the one builder may build a mere hovel, the other may erect a cathedral, but through their descent they are substantially the same. Or does he mean by "mind," the mode and manner in which sensations are received and arranged, what one might call, in fact, the law of sensuous gravitation? Then I say again, according to his father's view, that law is substantially the same for animal and man. Nor is this a conclusion derived from Mr. Darwin's premises against his will. It is the opinion strongly advocated by him. He has collected the most interesting observations on the incipient germs, not only of language, but of sthetics and ethics, among animals. If Mr. Darwin, Jr., holds that the mind of man is not substantially identical with the animal mind, if he admits a break somewhere in the ascending scale from the Protogenes to the first Man, then we should be driven to the old conclusion—viz., that man was formed of the dust of the ground, but that God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul. Does Mr. Darwin, Jr., accept this?

Next it is said, that by a similar argument the distinction between black and white, hot and cold, ahigh and a low note might be eliminated. This sounds no doubt formidable—it almost looks like a logical skeleton. But let us not be frightened by words. Black and white are no doubt as different as possible, so are hot and cold, ahigh and a low note. But what is the difference between a high and a low note? It is simply the smaller or larger number of vibrations in a given time. We can count these vibrations, and we also know that, from time to time, as the velocity of the vibrations increases, our dull senses can distinguish new tones. We have therefore here to deal with differences that used to be called differences of degree, as opposed to differences in kind. What applies to a low and a high note, applies to a low and high degree of heat, and to the various degrees of light which we call by the names of colors. In all these cases, what philosophers call the substance, remains the same, just as, according to evolutionists, the substance of man and animal is the same. Therefore, if man differs from an animal no more than a high note differs from a low, or, vice vers, if a high note differs no more from a low than man differs from an ape, my argument would seem to stand in spite of the shower of words poured over it.

I myself referred to the difference between a high and a low note for a totally different purpose, viz., in order to call attention to those strange lines and limits in nature which, in spite of insensible graduation, enable us to distinguish broad degrees of sound which we call keys; broad degrees of light, which we call colors; broad degrees of heat, for which our language has a less perfect nomenclature. These lines and limits have never been explained, nor the higher limits which separate sound from light, and light from heat. Why we should derive pleasure from the exact number of vibrations which yield C, and then have painful sensations till we come to the exact number of vibrations which yield C sharp, remains as yet a mystery. But as showing that nature had drawn these sharp lines across the continuous stream of vibrations, whether of sound or light, seemed to me an important problem, particularly for evolutionist philosophers, who see in nature nothing but "insensible graduation."

The next charge brought against me is, that I overlook the undoubted and undisputed fact that species do actually vary in nature. This seems to me begging the whole question. If terms like species are fetched from the lumber-room of scholastic philosophy, they must be defined with logical exactness, particularly at present, when the very existence of such a thing as a species depends on the meaning which we assign to it. Nature gives us individuals only, and each individual differs from the other. But "species" is a thing of human workmanship,[5] and it depends entirely on the disputed definition of the term, whether species vary or not. In one sense, Mr. Darwin's book, "On the Origin of Species," may be called an attempt to repeal the term "species," or, at all events, an attempt at giving a new definition to that word which it never had before. No one appreciates more than I do the service he has rendered in calling forth a new examination of that old and somewhat rusty instrument of thought.[6] Only, do not let us take for granted what has to be proved.

The dust of words grows thicker and thicker as we go on, for I am next told that the same line of proof would show "that the stature of a man or boy was identical, because the boy passes through every gradation on attaining the one stature from the other. No one could maintain such a position who grasped the doctrines of continuity and of the differential calculus." It seems to me that even without the help of the differential calculus, we can, with the help of logic and grammar, put a stop to this argument. Boy is the subject, stature looks like a subject, but is merely a predicate, and should have been treated as such by Mr. Darwin. If a boy arrives by insensible graduation or growth at the stature of man, the man is substantially the same as the boy. His stature may be different, the color of his hair may be so likewise; but what philosophers used to call the substance, or the individuality, or the personality, or what we may call the man, remains the same. If evolutionists really maintain that the difference between man and beast is the same as between a grown-up man and a boy, the whole of my argument is granted, and granted with a completeness which I had no right to expect. Will Mr. Darwin, Senior, indorse the concessions thus made by Mr. Darwin, Junior?

In order to show how the simplest matters can be complicated by a free use of scholastic terms, Iquote the following sentence, which is meant as an answer to my argument:—

"According to what is called the Darwinian theory, organisms are in fact precisely the result of a multiple integration of a complex function of a very great number of variables; many of such variables being bound together by relationships amongst themselves, an example of one such relationship being afforded by the law, which has been called 'correlation of growth.'"

Next follows a rocket from Mr. Whitney's armory:—

"As a linguist," he says, "Professor Mller claims to have found in language an endowment which has no analogies, and no preparations in even the beings nearest to man, and of which, therefore, no process of transmutation could furnish an explanation. Here is the pivot on which his whole argument rests and revolves."

So far, the statement is correct, only that I expressed myself a little more cautiously. It is well known, that the animals which in other respects come nearest to man, possess very imperfect phonetic organs, and that it would be improper, therefore, to refer more particularly to them. But, however that may be, Iexpected at all events some proof that I had made a mistake, that my argument jars, or my pivot gives. But nothing of the kind. No facts, no arguments, but simply an assertion that I do not argue the case with moderation and acuteness, on strict scientific grounds, and by scientific methods in setting up language as the specific difference between man and animals. And why? Because many other writers have adduced other differences as the correct ones.

There is a good deal of purely explosive matter in these vague charges of want of moderation and acuteness. But what is the kernel? Irepresented language as the specific difference between man and animals, without mentioning other differences which others believe to be specific. It would seem to show moderation rather than the absence of it, if I confined myself to language, to the study of which I have devoted the whole of my life; and perhaps a certain acuteness, in not touching on questions which I do not pretend to have studied, as they ought to be. But there were other reasons, too, which made me look upon language as the specific difference. The so-called specific differences mentioned by others fall into two classes—those that are implied by language, as I defined the word, and those which have been proved untenable by Mr. Darwin and others. Let us read on now, to see what these specific differences are:—

"Man alone is capable of progressive improvement."

Partly denied by Mr. Darwin, partly shown to be the result of language, through which each successive generation profits by the experience of its predecessors.

"He alone makes use of tools or fire." The former disproved by Mr. Darwin, the latter true.

"He alone domesticates other animals." Denied, in the case of the ants.

"He alone possesses property." Disproved by every dog in-the-manger.

"He alone employs language." True.

"No other animal is self-conscious." Either right or wrong, according to the definition of the word, and never capable of direct proof.

"He alone comprehends himself." True, implied by language.

"He alone has the power of abstraction." True, implied by language.

"He alone possesses general ideas." True, implied by language.

"He alone has sense of beauty." Disproved or rendered doubtful by sexual selection.

"He alone is liable to caprice." Disproved by every horse, or monkey, or mule.

"He alone has the feeling of gratitude." Disproved by every dog.

"He alone has the feeling of mystery." Cela me passe.

"He alone believes in God." True.

"He alone is endowed with a conscience." Denied by Mr. Darwin.

Did it show then such want of moderation or acuteness if I confined myself to language, and what is implied by language, as the specific difference between man and beast? Really, one sometimes yearns for an adversary who can hit straight, instead of these random strokes page after page.

The next attack is so feeble that I should gladly pass it by, did I not know from past experience that the very opposite motive would be assigned to my doing so. Ihad stated that if there is a terra incognita which excludes all positive knowledge, it is the mind of animals. How, then, Iam asked, do you know that no animal possesses the faintest germs of the faculty of abstracting and generalizing, and that animals receive their knowledge through the senses only? Istill recollect the time when any philosopher who, even by way of illustration, ventured to appeal to the mind of animals, was simply tabooed, and I thought every student of the history of philosophy would have understood what I meant by saying that the whole subject was transcendent. However, here is my answer: Ihold that animals receive their knowledge through the senses, because I can apply a crucial test, and show that if I shut their eyes, they cannot see. And I hold that they are without the faculty of abstracting and generalizing, because I have here nothing before me but mere assertions, Iknow of no crucial test to prove that these assertions are true. Those who have read my Lectures, and were able to reduce them to a skeleton of logical statement, might have seen that I had adduced another reason, viz., the fact that general conceptions are impossible without language (using language in the widest sense, so as to include hieroglyphic, numerical, and other signs), and that as no one has yet discovered any outward traces of language among animals, we are justified in not ascribing to them, as yet, the possession of abstract ideas. This seems to me to explain fully "why the same person (viz., my poor self) should be involved in such profound ignorance, and yet have so complete a knowledge of the limits of the animal mind." If I had said that man has five senses, and no more, would that be wrong? Yet having myself only five senses, Icould not possibly prove that other men may not have a sixth sense, or at all events a disposition to develop it. But I am quite willing to carry my agnosticism, with regard to the inner life of animals, still further, and to say again what I wrote in my Lectures (p.46):—

"I say again and again, that according to the strict rules of positive philosophy, we have no right either to assert or to deny anything with reference to the so-called mind of animals."

But there is another piece of Chinese artillery brought out by Mr. G. Darwin. As if not trusting it himself, he calls on Mr. Whitney to fire it off—"The minds of our fellow men, too," we are told, "are a terra incognita in exactly the same sense as are those of animals."

No student of psychology would deny that each individual has immediate knowledge of his own mind only, but even Mr. G. Darwin reminds Mr. Whitney that, after all, with man we have one additional source of evidence—viz., language; nay, he even doubts whether there may not be others, too. If Mr. Darwin, Jr., grants that, Iwillingly grant him that the horse's impression of green—nay, my friend's impression of green—may be totally different from my own, to say nothing of Daltonism, color-blindness, and all the rest.[7]

After this, I need hardly dwell on the old attempts at proving, by a number of anecdotes, that animals possess conceptual knowledge. The anecdotes are always amusing, and are sure to meet with a grateful public, but for our purpose they have long been ruled out of court. If Mr. Darwin, Jr., should ever pass through Oxford, Ipromise to show him in my own dog, Waldmann, far more startling instances of sagacity than any he has mentioned, though I am afraid he will be confirmed all the more in his anthropomorphic interpretation of canine intelligence.

Now comes a new appeal ad populum. I had ventured to say that in our days nothing was more strongly to be recommended to young and old philosophers than a study of the history of philosophy. There is a continuity, not only in Nature, but also in the progress of the human mind; and to ignore that continuity, to begin always like Thales or Democritus, is like having a special creation every day. Evolutionists seem to imagine that there is evolution for everything, except for evolutionism. What would chemists say, if every young student began again with the theory of a phlogiston, or every geologist with Vulcanism, or every astronomer with the Ptolemic system? However, Idid not go back very far; Ionly claimed a little consideration for the work done by such giants as Locke, Hume, Berkeley, and Kant. Iexpressed a hope that certain questions might be considered as closed, or, if they were to be re-opened, that at least the controversy should be taken up where it was left at the end of the last debate. Here, however, Ifailed to make any impression. My appeal is stigmatized as "an attempt to crush my adversaries by a reference to Kant, Hume, Berkeley, and Locke." And the popular tribune finishes with the following brave words: "Fortunately we live in an age, which (except for temporary relapses) does not pay any great attention to the pious founders, and which tries to judge for itself."

I never try to crush my adversaries by deputy. Kant, Hume, Berkeley, and Locke may all be antiquated for all I know; but I still hold it would be useful to read them, before we declare too emphatically that we have left them behind.

I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of quoting on this point the wise and weighty words of Huxley:—

"It is much easier to ask such questions than to answer them, especially if one desires to be on good terms with one's contemporaries: but, if I must give an answer, it is this: The growth of physical science is now so prodigiously rapid, that those who are actively engaged in keeping up with the present, have much ado to find time to look at the past, and even grow into the habit of neglecting it. But, natural as this result may be, it is none the less detrimental. The intellect loses, for there is assuredly no more effectual method of clearing up one's own mind on any subject than by talking it over, so to speak, with men of real power and grasp who have considered it from a totally different point of view. The parallax of time helps us to the true position of a conception, as the parallax of space helps us to that of a star. And the moral nature loses no less. It is well to turn aside from the fretful stir of the present, and to dwell with gratitude and respect upon the services of those mighty men of old who have gone down to the grave with their weapons of war, but who, while they yet lived, won splendid victories over ignorance."

Next follow some extraordinary efforts on Mr. Whitney's part to show that Locke, whose arguments I had simply re-stated, knew very little about human or animal understanding, and then the threadbare argument of the deaf and dumb is brushed up once more. Until something new is said on that old subject, Imust be allowed to remain myself deaf and dumb.[8]

Then comes the final and decisive charge. I had said that "if the science of language has proved anything, it has proved that conceptual or discursive thought can be carried on in words only." Here again I had quoted a strong array of authorities—not, indeed, to kill free inquiry—I am not so bloodthirsty, as my friends imagine—but to direct it to those channels where it had been carried on before. Iquoted Locke, Iquoted Schelling, Hegel, Wilhelm von Humboldt, Schopenhauer, and Mansel—philosophers diametrically opposed to each other on many points, yet all agreeing in what seems to many so strange a doctrine, that conceptual thought is impossible without language (comprehending by language hieroglyphic, numerical, and similar symbols). Imight have quoted many other thinkers and poets. Professor Huxley seems clearly to have seen the difference between trains of thought and trains of feelings. "Brutes," he says, "though, from the absence of language, they can have no trains of thoughts, but only trains of feelings, yet have a consciousness which, more or less distinctly, foreshadows our own." And who could express the right view of language more beautifully than Jean Paul?—

"Mich dnkt, der Mensch wrde sich, so wie das spracblose Thier, das in der ussern Welt, wie in einem dunkeln, betubenden Wellen-Meere schwimmt, ebenfalls in dem vollgestirnten Himmel der ussern Anschauung dumpf verlieren, wenn er das verworrene Leuchten nicht durch Sprache in Sternbilder abtheilte, und sich durch diese das Ganze in Theile fr das Bewusstein auflsete."

Having discussed that question very fully in my Lectures, I shall attempt no more at present than to show that the objections raised by Mr. Darwin, Jr., entirely miss the point. Does he really think that those men could have spent all their lives in considering that question, and never have been struck by the palpable objections raised by him? Let us treat such neighbors, at least like ourselves. Ishall, however, do my best to show Mr. Darwin that even I had not been ignorant of these objections. Ishall follow him through every point, and, for fear of misrepresenting him, quote his own words:—

"(1) Concepts may be formed, and yet not put before the consciousness of the conceiver, so that he 'realizes' what he is doing."

Does that mean that the conceiver conceives concepts without conceiving them? Then, Iask, whom do these concepts belong to, where are they, and under what conditions were they realized? Is to conceive an active or a passive verb? May I once more quote Kant without incurring the suspicion of wishing to strangle free inquiry by authority? "Concepts," says the old veteran, "are founded on the spontaneity of thought, sensuous intuitions on the receptivity of impressions."

"(2) Complex thoughts are doubtless impossible without symbols, just as are the higher mathematics?"

Are lower mathematics possible without numerical symbols, and where is the line which separates complex from simple thought? Everything would seem to depend on that line which is so often spoken of by our critics. There ought to be something in that line which would at once remove the blunders committed by Humboldt and others. It would define the limit between inarticulate and articulate thought; it might possibly be the very frontier between the animal and the human mind, and yet that magic line is simply conceived, spoken of freely, but never realized, i.e., never traced with logical precision. Till that is done, that line, though it may exist, is to me as if it did not exist.

"(3) We know that dogs doubt and hesitate, and finally determine to act without any external determining circumstance."

How this argument fits in here, is not quite clear to me; but, whatever its drift may be, aperusal of Professor Huxley's excellent paper, "The Hypothesis that Animals are Automata," will supply a full answer.

"(4) Professor Whitney very happily illustrates the independence of thought from language, by calling up our state of mind when casting about, often in the most open manner, for new designations, for new forms of knowledge, or when drawing distinctions, and pointing conclusions, which words are then stretched or narrowed to cover."

Language with us has become so completely traditional, that we frequently learn words first and their meaning afterwards. The problem of the original relation between concepts and words, however, refers to periods when these words did not yet exist, but had to be framed for the first time. We are speaking of totally different things; he, of the geology, I, if I may say so, of the chemistry of speech. But even if we accepted the test from modern languages, does not the very form of the question supply the answer? If we want new designations, new forms of knowledge, do we not confess that we have old designations, though imperfect ones; old forms of knowledge which no longer answer our purpose? Our old words, then, become gradually stretched or narrowed, exactly as our knowledge becomes stretched or narrowed, or we at last throw away the old word, and borrow another from our own, or even from a foreign language.

"It is a proof," Mr. Darwin says, "that we realized and conceived the idea of the texture and nature of a musical sound before we had a word for it, that we had to borrow the expressive word "timbre" from the French."

But how did we realize and conceive the idea before we had a word for it? Surely, by old words. We called it quality, texture, nature—we knew it as the result of the presence and absence of various harmonics. In German, we stretched an old word, and called it Farbe; in English, timbre was borrowed from the French, just as we may call a pound vingt-cinq francs; but the French themselves got their word by the ordinary process—viz., by stretching the old word, tympanum.

"(5) If Mller had brought before him some wholly new animal he would find that he could shut his eyes, and call up the image of it readily enough without any accompanying name."

All this is far, far away from the real field of battle. No doubt, if I look at the sun and shut my eyes, the image remains for a time. By imagination I can also recall other sensuous impressions, and, in an attack of fever, Ihave had sensuous impressions resuscitated without my will. But how does that touch conceptual knowledge? As soon as I want to know what animal it is which I conjure up or imagine to myself, Imust either have, for shortness' sake, its scientific name, or I must conceive and realize its ears, or its legs, or its tail, or something else, but always something for which there is a name.

I have thus, in spite of the old warning, Ne Hercules contra duos, gone through the whole string of charges brought against me by Mr. Darwin and Professor Whitney; and while trying to show them that I was not entirely unprepared for their combined attack, Ihope I have not been wanting in that respect which is due even to a somewhat rancorous assailant. Ihave not returned evil for evil, nor have I noticed objections which I could not refute without seeming to be offensive. Is it not mere skirmishing with blank cartridge, when Professor Whitney assures me that I have never fathomed "the theory of the antecedency of the idea to the word in the minds of those who hold that theory?" Surely, that is the theory which everybody holds who forms his idea of the origin of language from the manner in which we acquire a traditional language ready made, or, later in life, learn foreign languages. It has been my object to show that our problem is not, how languages are learnt, but how language is developed. We might as well form our ideas of the origin of the alphabet from the manner in which we learn to write, and then smile when we are told that, in writing "F" we still draw in the two upper strokes, the two horns of the cerastes, and that the connecting line in the "H" is the last remnant of the lines dividing the sieve, both hieroglyphics occurring in the name of Chufu or Cheops.

Philosophy is a study as much as philology, and though common sense is, no doubt, very valuable within its proper limits, Ido not hesitate to say, though I hear already the distant grumbling of Jupiter tonans, that it is generally the very opposite of philosophy. One of the most eminent and most learned of living German philosophers—Professor Carriere, of Munchen—says in a very friendly review of Professor Whitney's "Lectures on Language"—

"Philosophical depth and precision in psychological analysis are not his strong points, and in that respect the reader will hardly find anything new in his Lectures."

He goes on to say that—

"The American scholar did not see that language is meant first for forming, afterwards for communicating thought." "Wordmaking," he says with great truth, "is the first philosophy—the first poetry of mankind. We can have sensations, desires, intentions, but we cannot think, in the proper sense of the word, without language. Every word expresses the general. Mr. Whitney has not understood this, and his calling language a human institution is very shallow."

Against Professor Whitney's view that language is arbitrary and conventional, and against the opposite view that language is instinctive, Professor Carriere quotes the happy expression of M.Renan, "La liaison du sens et du mot n'est jamais ncessaire, jamais arbitraire, toujours elle est motive." Here the nail is hit on the head. Professor Carriero highly commends Professor Whitney's lectures, and he does by no means adopt all my own views; but he felt obliged to enter a protest against certain journalistic proceedings which in Germany have attracted general attention.

In conclusion, if I may judge from Professor Whitney's lectures, unless he has changed very much of late, Idoubt whether he would prove a real ally of Mr. Darwin in his views on the origin of language. Towards the end of his article, even Mr. Darwin, Jr., becomes suspicious. Professor Whitney, he says, makes a dangerous assertion when he says that we shall never know anything of the transitional forms through which language has passed, and he advises his friend to read a book lately published by Count G.A. de Goddesand Liancourt and F.Pincott, called "Primitive and Universal Laws of Language," in which he would find much information and enlightenment on the real origin of roots. There is an unintentional irony in that advice which Professor Whitney will not fail to appreciate. How any one who cares for truth can speak of a dangerous assertion, Ido not understand. The Pope may say so, or a barrister; atrue friend of truth knows of no danger.

In his "Lectures on Language," Professor Whitney protests strongly against Darwinian materialism. But, as he confesses himself half a convert to the Bow-wow and Pooh-pooh theories, thus showing how wrong I was in supposing that those theories had no advocates among comparative philologists in the nineteenth century; nay, as now, after he has discovered at last that I am no believer in Ding-dongism, he seems inclined to say a kind word for the advocates of that theory—Heyse and Steinthal—who knows whether, after my Lectures on Darwin's "Philosophy of Language," he may not be converted by Bleek and Haeckel, the mad Darwinian, as he calls him?

All this, no doubt, has its humorous side, and I have tried to answer it good-humoredly. But it seems to me that it also has a very serious import. Why is there all this wrangling as to whether man is the descendant of a lower animal or not? Why cannot people examine the question in a temper more consonant with a real love of truth? Why look for artificial barriers between man and beast, if they are not there? Why try to remove real barriers, if they are there? Surely we shall remain what we are, whatever befall. When we throw the question back into a very distant antiquity, all seems to grow confused and out of focus. Yet time and space make little difference in the solution of these problems. Let us see what exists to-day. We see to-day that the lowest of savages—men whose language is said to be no better than the clucking of hens, or the twittering of birds, and who have been declared in many respects lower even than animals, possess this one specific characteristic, that if you take one of their babies, and bring it up in England, it will learn to speak as well as any English baby, while no amount of education will elicit any attempts at language from the highest animals, whether bipeds or quadrupeds. That disposition cannot have, been formed by definite nervous structures, congenitally framed, for we are told by the best Agriologists that both father and mother clucked like hens. This fact, therefore, unless disproved by experiment, remains, whatever the explanation may be.

Let us suppose, then, that myriads of years ago there was, out of myriads of animal beings, one, and one only, which made that step which in the end led to language, while the whole rest of the creation remained behind;—what would follow? That one being then, like the savage baby now, must have possessed something of his own—a germ very imperfect, it may be, yet found nowhere else, and that germ, that capacity, that disposition—call it what you like—is, and always will remain the specific difference of himself and all his descendants. It makes no difference whether we say it came of itself, or it was due to environment, or it was the gift of a Being in whom we live and move. All these are but different expressions for the Unknown. If that germ of the Logos had to pass through thousands of forms, from the Protogenes to Adam, before it was fit to fulfill its purpose, what is that to us? It was there potenti from the beginning; it manifested itself where it was, in the paulo-post-future man; it never manifested itself where it was not, in any of the creatures that were animals from the beginning, and remained so to the end.

Surely, even if all scholastic philosophy must now be swept away, if to be able to reduce all the wisdom of the past to a tabula rasa is henceforth to be the test of a true philosopher, afew landmarks may still be allowed to remain, and we may venture to quote, for instance, Ex nihilo nihil fit, without being accused of trying to crush free inquiry by an appeal to authority. Language is something, it pre-supposes something; and that which it pre-supposes, that from which it sprang, whatever its pre-historic, pre-mundane, pre-cosmic state may have been, must have been different from that from which it did not spring. People ask whether that germ of language was "slowly evolved," or "divinely implanted," but if they would but lay a firm grip on their words and thoughts, they would see that these two expressions, which have been made the watchwords of two hostile camps, differ from each other dialectically only.

That there is in us an animal—aye, a bestial nature—has never been denied; to deny it would take away the very foundation of Psychology and Ethics. We cannot be reminded too often that all the materials of our knowledge we share with animals; that, like them, we begin with sensuous impressions, and then, like ourselves, and like ourselves only, proceed to the General, the Ideal, the Eternal. We cannot be reminded too often that in many things we are like the beasts of the field, but that, like ourselves, and like ourselves only, we can rise superior to our bestial self, and strive after what is Unselfish, Good, and God-like. The wing by which we soar above the Sensuous, was called by wise men of old the Logos; the wing which lifts us above the Sensual, was called by good men of old the Daimonion. Let us take continual care, especially within the precincts of the Temple of Science, lest by abusing the gift of speech or doing violence to the voice of conscience, we soil the two wings of our soul, and fall back, through our own fault, to the dreaded level of the Gorilla.

[Footnote 1: "The vast number of grammatical forms has had a stratified origin. As on the surface of the earth older and younger layers of stones are found one above the other, or one by the side of the other, We had similar appearances in language at any time of its existence." Curtius, Zur Chronologie, p.14.]

[Footnote 2: See Academy, 19 June, 1875.]

[Footnote 3: As it has been objected that I had no right to claim Dr. Whewell's authority in support of my classification, Imay here add a passage from a letter (Nov. 4, 1861) addressed to me by Dr. Whewell, in which he fully approves of my treating the Science of Language as one of the physical sciences. "You have more than once done me the honor, in your lectures, of referring to what I have written but it seems to me possible that you may not have remarked how completely I agree with you in classing the Science of Language among the physical sciences, as to its history and structure."]

[Footnote 4: Antikritik, Wie einer den Nagel auf den Kopf trifft: Berl. 1874.]

[Footnote 5: Cf. Sachs' Botany, p. 830.]

[Footnote 6: See Lectures on the Science of Language, vol. ii.]

[Footnote 7: Fiske, Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, vol.i. p.17.]

[Footnote 8: See Kilian, Uber die Racenfrage der Semitischen und Arischen Sprachbnde, 1874.]



X.

IN SELF-DEFENSE.

PRESENT STATE OF SCIENTIFIC STUDIES.

It has been remarked by many observers that in all branches of physical as well as historical learning there is at the present moment a strongly pronounced tendency towards special researches. No one can hold his own among his fellow-workers who cannot point to some discovery, however small, to some observation, to some decipherings, to some edition of a text hitherto unpublished, or, at least, to some conjectural readings which are, in the true sense of the word, his property. Aman must now have served from the ranks before he is admitted to act as a general, and not even Darwin or Mommsen would have commanded general attention for their theories on the ancient history of Rome, or on the primitive development of animal life, unless they had been known for years as sturdy workers in their respective quarries.

On the whole, I believe that this state of public opinion has produced a salutary effect, but it has also its dangers. An army that means conquest, cannot always depend on its scouts and pioneers, nor must it be broken up altogether into single detachments of tirailleurs. From time to time, it has to make a combined movement in advance, and for that purpose it wants commanders who know the general outlines of the battle-field, and are familiar with the work that can best be done by each branch of the service.

EVOLUTIONISM.

If we look upon scholars, historians, students of physical science, and abstract philosophers, as so many branches of the great army of knowledge which has been fighting its way for centuries for the conquest of truth, it might be said, if we may follow up our comparison a little further, that the light cavalry of physical science had lately made a quick movement in advance, and detached itself too much from the support of the infantry and heavy artillery. The charge was made against the old impregnable fortress, the Origin of Life, and to judge from the victorious hurrahs of the assaulting squadron, we might have thought that a breach had at last been effected, and that the keys to the long hidden secrets of creation and development had been surrendered. As the general commanding this attack, we all recognize Mr. Darwin, supported by a brilliant staff of dashing officers, and if ever general was well chosen for victory, it was the author of the "Origin of Species."

There was indeed for a time a sanguine hope, shared by many a brave soldier, that the old warfare of the world would, in our time, be crowned with success, that we should know at last what we are, whence we came, and whither we go; that, beginning with the simplest elementary substances, we should be able to follow the process of combination and division, leading by numberless and imperceptible changes from the lowest Bathybios to the highest Hypsibios, and that we should succeed in establishing by incontrovertible facts what old sages had but guessed, viz., that there is nowhere anything hard and specific in nature, but all is flowing and growing, without an efficient cause or a determining purpose, under the sway of circumstances only, or of a self-created environment. Panta rhei.

But that hope is no longer so loudly and confidently expressed as it was some years ago. For a time all seemed clear and simple. We began with Protoplasm, which anybody might see at the bottom of the sea, developing into Moneres, and we ended with the bimanous mammal called Homo, whether sapiens or insipiens, everything between the two being matter of imperceptible development.

DIFFICULTIES IN EVOLUTIONISM.

The difficulties began where they generally begin, at the beginning and at the end. Protoplasm was a name that produced at first a soothing effect on the inquisitive mind, but when it was asked, whence that power of development, possessed by the Protoplasm which begins as a Moneres and ends as Homo, but entirely absent in other Protoplasm, which resists all mechanical manipulation, and never enters upon organic growth, it was seen that the problem of development had not been solved, but only shifted, and that, instead of simple Protoplasm, very peculiar kinds of Protoplasm were required, which under circumstances might become and remain a Moneres, and under circumstances might become and remain Homo forever. That which determined Protoplasm to enter upon its marvelous career, the first kinoun akinton, remained as unknown as ever. It was open to call it an internal and unconscious, or an external and conscious power, or both together: physical, metaphysical, and religious mythology were left as free as ever. The best proof of this we find in the fact that Mr. Darwin himself retained his belief in a personal Creator, while Haeckel denies all necessity of admitting a conscious agent; and Von Hartmann[1] sees in what is called the philosophy of evolutionism the strongest confirmation of idealism, "all development being in truth but the realization of the unconscious reason of the creative idea."

GLOTTOLOGY AND EVOLUTIONISM.

While the difficulty at the beginning consists in this that, after all, nothing can be developed except what was enveloped, the difficulty at the end is this that something is supposed to be developed that was not enveloped. It was here where I thought it became my duty to draw Mr. Darwin's attention to difficulties which he had not suspected at all, or which, at all events, he had allowed himself to under-value. Mr. Darwin had tried to prove that there was nothing to prevent us from admitting a possible transition from the brute to man, as far as their physical structure was concerned, and it was natural that he should wish to believe that the same applied to their mental capacities. Now, whatever difference of opinion there might be among philosophers as to the classification and naming of these capacities, and as to any rudimentary traces of them to be discovered in animals, there had always been a universal consent that language was a distinguishing characteristic of man. Without inquiring what was implied by language, so much was certain, that language was something tangible, present in every man, absent in every brute. Nothing, therefore, was more natural than that Mr. Darwin should wish to show that this was an error: that language was nothing specific in man, but had its antecedents, however imperfect, in the signs of communication among animals. Influenced, no doubt, by the works of some of his friends and relatives on the origin of language, he thought that it had been proved that our words could be derived directly from imitative and interjectional sounds. If the Science of Language has proved anything, it has proved that this is not the case. We know that, with certain exceptions, about which there can be little controversy, all our words are derived from roots, and that every one of these roots is the expression of a general concept. "Without roots, no language; without concepts, no roots," these are the two pillars on which our philosophy of language stands, and with which it falls.