that laws were made for restraining the senators from studying the pantomine art. Now, though in declamations and theatrical exhibitions, both tone and gesture were carried much farther than in common discourse; yet public speaking of any kind must in every country bear some proportion to the manner which is used in conversations; and such public entertainments could never be relished by a nation whose tones and gestures in discourse were as languid as ours.

The early language of men being entirely composed of words descriptive of sensible objects, became of necessity extremely metaphorical. For to signify any desire or passion, or any act or feeling of the mind, they had no fixed expression which was appropriated to that purpose, but were obliged to paint the emotion or passion, which they felt, by alluding to those sensible objects which had most connexion with it, and which could render it in some degree visible to others.

But it was not necessity alone, that gave rise to this pictured style. In the infancy of all societies, fear and surprise, wonder and astonishment, are the most frequent passions of men. Their language will necessarily be effected by this character of their minds. They will be disposed to paint every thing in the strongest colours. Even the manner, in which the first tribes of men uttered their words, had considerable influence on their style. Wherever strong exclamations, tones and gestures, are connected with conversation, the imagination is always more exercised; a greater effort of fancy and passion is excited. Thus the fancy, being kept awake and rendered more sprightly by this mode of utterance, operates upon style, and gives it additional life and spirit.

As one proof among many, which might be produced of the truth of these observations, we shall transcribe a speech from Colden's History of the Five Indian Nations which was delivered by their chiefs, when entering on a treaty of peace with us in the following language. "We are happy in having buried under ground the red axe, that has so often been dyed in the blood of our brethren. Now in this fort we in

ter the axe, and plant the tree of peace. We plant a tree whose top will reach the sun; and its branches spread abroad so that it shall be seen afar off. May its growth never be stifled and choked; but may it shade both your country and ours with its leaves! Let us make fast its roots, and extend them to the utmost of your colonies. If the French should come, to shake this tree, we should know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our country. May the Great Spirit allow us to rest in tranquility upon our mats, and never again dig up the axe to cut down the tree of peace! Let the carth be trodden hard over it, where it lies buried. Let a strong stream run under the pit to wash the evil away out of our sight and remembrance. The fire, that had long burned in Albany, is extinguished, The bloody bed is washed clean, and the tears are wiped from our eyes. We now renew the covenant chain of friendship. Let it be kept bright and clean as silver, and not suffered to contract any rust. Let not any one pull away his arm from it.”

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As language in its progress grew more copious, it gradually lost that figurative style, which was its early character. The vehement manner of speaking by tones and gestures became less common. Instead of poets, philosophers became the instructors of men; and in their reasoning on all subjects introduced that plainer and more simple style of composition, which we now call prose. Thus the ancient metaphorical and poetical dress of language was at length laid aside in the intercourse of men, and reserved for those occasions only, on which ornament was professedly studied.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE AND OF WRITING.

WHEN We examine the order in which words are arranged in a sentence, we find a very remarkable difference between ancient and modern tongues. The consideration of this will serve to unfold farther the

genius of language, and to shew the causes of those alterations, it has undergone in the progress of society.

To conceive distinctly the nature of this alteration, we must go back, as before, to the earliest period of language. Let us figure to ourselves a savage beholding some fruit which he earnestly desires, and requests another to give him. Suppose him unacquainted with words, he would strive to make himself understood by pointing eagerly at the object desired, and uttering at the same time a passionate cry. Supposing him to have acquired words, the first word which he would utter would be the name of that object. He would not express himself according to our order of construction, "Give me fruit;" but according to the Latin order," Fruit give me," "Fructum da mih ;” for this plain reason, that his attention was wholly directed towards fruit, the object desired. Hence we might conclude a priori, that this was the order in which words were most commonly arranged in the infancy of language; and accordingly we find in reality that in this order words are arranged in most of the ancient tongues, as in the Greek and Latin; and it is said likewise in the Russian, Sclavonic, Gaelic, and several American tongues.

The modern languages of Europe have adopted a different arrangement from the ancient. In their prose composition very little variety is admitted in the collocation of words; they are chiefly fixed to one order which may be called the order of the understanding. They place first in the sentence, the person or thing which speaks or acts; next, its action; and lastly, the object of its action. Thus an English writer paying a compliment to a great man would say, "It is impossi ble for me to pass over in silence so distinguished mildness, so singular and unheard of clemency, and so uncommon moderation, in the exercise of supreme powHere is first presented to us, the person who speaks, "It is impossible for me;" next, what the same person is to do, "to pass over in silence;" and lastly, the object which excites him to action, "the

er."

mildness, clemency, and moderation of his patron.” Cicero, from whom these words are translated, reverses this order. He begins with the object; places that first, which was the exciting idea in the speaker's mind, and ends with the speaker and his action. “Tantam mansuetudinem, tam inusitatam inauditamque, clementiam, tantumque in summa potestate rerum omnium modum, tacitus nullo modo præterire possum." Here, it must be observed, the Latin order is more animated; the English more clear and distinct.

Our language naturally allows greater liberty for transposition and inversion in poetry, than in prose. Even there, however, this liberty is confined within narrow limits, in comparison with the ancient languages. In this respect, modern tongues vary from each other. The Italian approaches the nearest in its character to the ancient transposition; the English has more inversions than the rest; and the French has the least of all.

Writing is an improvement upon speech, and consequently was posterior to it in order of time.

Its characters are of two kinds, signs of things and signs of words. Thus the pictures, hieroglyphics, and symbols, employed by the ancients, were of the former sort; the alphabetical characters, now employed by Europeans, of the latter.

Pictures were certainly the first attempt toward writing. Mankind in all ages and in all nations have been prone to imitation. This would soon be employed for describing and recording events. Thus, to signify that one man had killed another, they painted the figure of one man laying on the ground, and of another standing by him with a hostile weapon in his hand. When America was first discovered, this was the only kind of writing with which the Mexicans were acquainted. It was however a very imperfect mode of recording facts; since by pictures external events only could be delineated.

Hieroglyphical characters may be considered as the second stage of the art of writing. They consist of certain symbols, which are made to stand for invisible

objects on account of their supposed resemblance of the objects themselves. Thus an eye represented knowledge; and a circle, having neither beginning nor end, was the symbol of eternity. Egypt was the country where this kind of writing was most studied, and brought into a regular art. By these characters all the boasted wisdom of their priests was conveyed. They pitched upon animals to be the emblems of moral objects, according to the qualities with which they supposed them to be endowed. Thus imprudence was denominated by a fly; wisdom, by an ant; and victory, by a hawk. But this sort of writing was in the highest degree enigmatical and confused; and consequently a very imperfect vehicle of knowledge.

From hieroglyphics, some nations gradually advanced to simple arbitrary marks, which stood for objects, though without any resemblance of the objects signi fied. Of this nature was the writing of the Peruvians. They used small cords of different colours; and by knots upon these, of different sizes and variously ranged, they invented signs for communicating their thoughts to one another. The Chinese at this day use written characters of this nature. They have no alphabet of letters or simple sounds, of which their words are composed; but every single character, which they use, is expressive of an idea; it is a mark which signifies some one thing or object. The number of these characters must consequently be immense. They are said indeed to amount to seventy thousand. To be perfectly acquainted with them is the business of a whole life; which must have greatly retarded among them the progress of every kind of science.

It is evident that the Chinese characters, like hiero glyphics, are signs of things, and not of words. For we are told, that the Japanese, the Tonquinese, and the Corœans, who speak different languages from each other, and from the inhabitants of China, use however the same written characters with them, and thus correspond intelligibly with one another in writing, though mutually ignorant of each other's language. Our arithmetical figures, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. are an example of