Another advantageous quality in the German language is, that the words and parts of speech, from the simplest compound to the most complicated sentences and lengthened periods, succeed one another after an established principle, drawn from nature and reason; but the rules of the French tongue are so disfigured by usage, that there is scarcely an essential precept without an interminable sequence of exceptions, and the order sometimes varies, not only in similar logical phrases and periods, but even in words of one and the same part of speech; as-ce chien noir, and cet homme brave; again, la vertu sublime, and la sublime vertu. Of the great differences existing between the two languages, not the least consists in the order given to the modifying adjective or noun, which in German always precedes the subject modified, as wein flasche, (wine bottle); while in French it constantly follows it, as bouteille à vin. The German branntewein (brandy) is in French, eau de vie, &c. &c. There is, however, no doubt, that the construction of the French language has undergone many alterations in the course of its passage to the present time. Thus, among the elder French authors, we find in Malherbe quite a German construction: "les vents, qui les chénes combattent ;"—" Valois, qui les dames aime, deux couronnes posseda." Instead of les vents qui combattent les chénes, and Valois, qui aime les dames, posseda deux couronnes. In German, the rule fixing the order of the modifying and modified parts in a sentence seems to have started into existence with the very elements of the language. Even the modifying and determining genitive, (which, in defiance of every innovation, has held its station, and according to Campe forms one of the ornaments of the tongue) as-des Vaters haus, instead of das haus des Vaters, was common to the German long before the era of Charlemagne. We thus read, in Beda de mensibus Anglorum,* not only ha

* Leibnitz, t. i. p. 44, 45.

legmonath, but also wyntyrfyllyth (winterfülle), and moadrenach (mutternacht). There are preserved in Schilter† extracts from translations of the statutes of Saint Benedict, and a treatise by Isidore of Seville, composed in the earliest period of German learning, wherein we see the order of the modifying and modified terms observed with a rigorous strictness, passing the practice of modern times. We give below a short extract from the treatise, in proof.

Aware of this singular and characteristic distinction between the two languages, the literati of France have named their own an analogous, and the German, a transpositive tongue. The Encyclopedia (T. 19, p. 574, art. Langue) says, "Les langues analogues sont celles dont la syntaxe est soumise à l'ordre analytique, parce que la succession des mots dans le discours y suit la gradation analytique des idées. La marche de ces langues est effectivement analogue et en quelque sorte parallèle à celle de l'esprit même, dont elle suit pas à pas les operations. Les langues transpositives sont celles qui dans l'elocution donnent aux mots des terminaisons relatives à l'ordre analytique, et qui acquièrent ainsi le droit de leur faire suivre dans le discours une marche libre et tout-à-fait independante de la succession naturelle des idées. Le François, l'Italien, l'Espagnol, &c. &c. sont des langues analogues; le Grec, le Latin, l'Allemand, &c. &c. sont des langues transpositives." (Analogous languages are those, the syntax of which is submitted to the analytical order, because the succession of the words follows in the discourse the analogical gradation of the ideas. The march of words in these languages is truly analogous, and somewhat parallel with the march of the mind, whose operations it follows, step by step. The transpositive languages are those, the words of which have terminations relative to analytical order, and thus acquire the right to transpose the

GENT. MAG. VOL. X.

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words without following the natural order of ideas. The French, Italian, and Spanish languages, &c. &c. are analogous; the Greek, Latin, and German, &c. &c. are transpositive.) Assuredly, there can be no doubt that our ideas first spring from the modified subject, and gradually ascend or descend to its attributes or modifying terms, as accessory and derivative thoughts; and so far the writer in the Encyclopedia is indisputably correct in styling the French an analogous, and the German a transpositive language. But, since thinking and speaking are not precisely the same, we have yet to decide whether in representing a mental image, our words may more advantageously follow or lead to the creative theme. Language is the magic instrument by which we not only communicate our thoughts to others, but at the same time assist others to think. Ideas are the words of the mind. A nascent notion, if not orally born on the instant, generally expires, but how often are we obliged to alter our words and re-model their order and construction to facilitate to the mental vision of others those views we ourselves entertain of a subject? After adjusting, in conception, our own ideas, a few leading words remembered or noted might probably prove a sufficient memorandum for our own use, but would never suffice to create in others a parallel train of thought. To originate in a hearer's understanding such a chain of ideas as had spontaneously linked themselves in our imagination, we must choose the aptest words, and employ the construction best fitted to the particular purpose. Our thoughts flowing to and re-issuing from any tangible or visible subject, form and expand themselves agreeably to its nature and qualities, its indefinite and abstract properties, and thence proceed to the association of indirect and

accessory images. Surely then, we are justified in deeming all those modifying and determining terms and circumstances constituent parts of the genuine nature and very essence of our ideas, since our expressions, if not accurately significant and appropriately placed, may convey an erroneous, an imperfect, or at least, an

impoverished impression.

To recur

to one of our simplest illustrations :les montagnes de la Suisse couvertes de neige. No one will deny that here the obvious subject to be modified is montagnes, and all the accompanying words of the sentence, including the copula and predicate, are mere modifying and qualifying terms; but though we, likewise, readily acknowledge that the order of our thoughts must descend from montagnes to Suisse, thence to couvertes, and finally to neige; nevertheless, as we have to explain our relative knowledge, our qualifying appendants to that separate subject, is it not more naturally emphatic to commence with them, and so reverse, in speaking, the footsteps of thought, just as we do those of action when descending a staircase which we have previously ascended? May we not affirm that it is perfectly proper to think, as the Frenchman does,

tenance, possibly signifying a doubt whether the German cou-cou surpasses in harmony the Gallic gickri-gihk. We shall do our best to satisfy him in that respect by touching on a psychological point in language, hitherto, we believe, unnoticed by our best philologists, the influence of the breath on the mechanism of language. Breath is to the organs of speech what the bellows are to an instrumental organ; it imparts life and vigour to the wonderful divine machine, and regulates not only the rise and fall of the voice, but also the length or shortness of the syllables, as we proceed to demonstrate. The breath is continually rising and falling, and the operation. which we term taking breath is performed, according to some physiologists, by healthy persons, once in four pulsations, if force or design do not interfere to impede or quicken that action. But the rise of the breath requires more time than the fall, so that, out of the four pulsations, more than two are necessary for the rise, and less in the same proportion for the fall of the breath. Our ear thus regulated by the operation of the breath must necessarily find the time in music the most natural as regards both melody and rhythm; and the very vigour and force which vocal and instrumental performers impart to the first fourth of the measure, is founded upon the simple and natural time-beating breath, which has itself greater force in the first than in the second quarter. This distinction is so incorporated with our nature, that the very sounds of a church bell, or the echoing steps in a military march, appear to diminish in force the quicker they proceed in time. Thus far of the rhythm of the breath; let us now speak of its melody. The natural and free scale or gamut of the breath runs from the Prime up to the Quinte, and from the Quinte down to the Prime:

4

H

h.

But it may be raised by force (as witnessed in the strong nasal respira

tion of sleepers, or in persons after having run very hastily) to the octave:

H

3

The regulation of the German accent has almost invariably been in such strict accordance with the measuring operation of the breath already described, that even the foreign words received into the language (previous to 1795) were compelled to undergo an orthographical process, in order to render them conformable to the German quantity and modulation. What scholar does not see in Fenster, Fenestra? In Spiegel, Speculum? In Münster, Monasterium? and in Kirche, χυριακή ;

The English accent is based on the same principle, and is preserved even in the words introduced into the language from the Norman-French after the Conquest, as in Officer, Gēnĕrăl, Cardinal. The Germans, it must be

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owned, have shown themselves less constant, as they adopted during the last French invasion each of those words together with their foreign accentuation. Nitimur in Vetitum !!

There are, however, a few servile German particles, in company with the article, which in spite of their precedence in place, are pronounced short, as; be, ge, ver, zer, ent, and others.

It follows from the foregoing premises, that the most natural metrical feet in German, are: the Trochees, (Waltzer), (*); the Dactyl, (~~~); the Iambic, (~); for words beginning with the above-mentioned servile syllables; and the Choriambics, (~~~~). The last-named measure is the most popular among the multitude, no doubt from its most faithfully according with the heaving of the breath. The Spondee (does not answer the operation of the breath, and is, therefore, not in favour with the Germans; and whatever efforts the sons of Germania's Parnassus have made, and not without some success, to cultivate the Hexameter, it will never be admired by the nation in general: naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurrit. You will never make a perfect spondee of a German trochee. Try the experiment. Recite to a mere peasant, or sturdy farmer, one of the masterly odes of Klopstock, in hexameter. Observe

how oddly he will stare in your face, and what impatience he will manifest at its length; but change your measure, begin to sing one of Gellert's poems, in iambics and trochees,

break in with a voice like thunder, and lustily stamp the time to it with his

foot. We shall now attempt some inquiry into the cause of this striking discrepance in the construction of the two languages and, no doubt, shall discover it in the circumstances attending the origin and rise of each. Languages are usually classed as original, or mother, and after, or derivative tongues. The first moiety includes all those languages which uninstructed children of nature have formed out of the most simple materials and primitive sounds in animate and elemental nature. Such languages, the rough productions of rough workmen, of course gradually augment in body, and improve and refine in form, as the mental powers in man develope themselves. A native language is truly the mirror of the mind, and receiving a higher polish with every advance in civilization, reflects, in turn, a nation's progress. On the contrary, in a derivative language-a language derived from some pre-existing and previously civilised tongue, all the refinements effected are outward and artificial. The adopted contexture being of exotic production, we may varnish the exterior, but cannot add strength to the substance. Derivative languages stand in the exact relation to mother tongues, that a piece of furniture, manufactured from any valuable wood, does to a flourishing tree of the same species. The one, an imported material, perhaps unskilfully worked up; the other, an organic living product of nature. Your rose-wood or mahogany table may be complete and finished in itself, but it is incapable of any growth from within. Your best exertions can only alter and diversify the form by ornamental decoration and fashionable carvings, whilst the substance, instead

of increasing, diminishes the more the older it grows. The rubbings and smoothings to which it is subjected, lessens the intrinsic value, and it thus grows poorer by the very means employed for melioration. An original language, like some coeval native denizen of the forest, waxes in stature and strength century after century. Decayed leaves and carious fruits fall off, but are abundantly replaced by others, young in beauty, and congenial to the advancing season. It bears its nutrition within its own bosom, and as long as it is judiciously tended will never fail to improve both in substance and form.

Derivative languages may be compared to buildings composed of old materials, accidental wrecks, and gathered fragments from antiquated structures, requiring much artificial support and extrinsic fastenings to keep together the tottering parts. With the progress of civilization, and the corresponding accession of ideas, mother tongues increase in wealth of words, and new modes of speech for the advancement of knowledge. Thus every native German scholar creates and forms expressions suggested by and adapted to his personal individuality, without being in the least restrained by academical rules or usages. The German language, as the true offspring of nature, glides with a free and easy bent from the tongue or pen of a native, spurning and defying every effort made by pedantic laws to impede or control its lofty flights; thence its sometimes soaring into the cloud-capt regions of metaphor and abstruseness. It cannot be denied that the continual increase of new words and constructions somewhat disfigures the surface