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created or modified it。
i。 The first and simplest of all the principles of language； common also
to the animals； is imitation。 The lion roars； the wolf howls in the
solitude of the forest： they are answered by similar cries heard from a
distance。 The bird； too； mimics the voice of man and makes answer to him。
Man tells to man the secret place in which he is hiding himself； he
remembers and repeats the sound which he has heard。 The love of imitation
becomes a passion and an instinct to him。 Primitive men learnt to speak
from one another； like a child from its mother or nurse。 They learnt of
course a rudimentary； half…articulate language； the cry or song or speech
which was the expression of what we now call human thoughts and feelings。
We may still remark how much greater and more natural the exercise of the
power is in the use of language than in any other process or action of the
human mind。
ii。 Imitation provided the first material of language： but it was
'without form and void。' During how many years or hundreds or thousands of
years the imitative or half…articulate stage continued there is no
possibility of determining。 But we may reasonably conjecture that there
was a time when the vocal utterance of man was intermediate between what we
now call language and the cry of a bird or animal。 Speech before language
was a rudis indigestaque materies； not yet distributed into words and
sentences； in which the cry of fear or joy mingled with more definite
sounds recognized by custom as the expressions of things or events。 It was
the principle of analogy which introduced into this 'indigesta moles' order
and measure。 It was Anaxagoras' omou panta chremata； eita nous elthon
diekosmese： the light of reason lighted up all things and at once began to
arrange them。 In every sentence； in every word and every termination of a
word； this power of forming relations to one another was contained。 There
was a proportion of sound to sound； of meaning to meaning； of meaning to
sound。 The cases and numbers of nouns； the persons； tenses； numbers of
verbs； were generally on the same or nearly the same pattern and had the
same meaning。 The sounds by which they were expressed were rough…hewn at
first； after a while they grew more refinedthe natural laws of euphony
began to affect them。 The rules of syntax are likewise based upon analogy。
Time has an analogy with space； arithmetic with geometry。 Not only in
musical notes； but in the quantity； quality； accent； rhythm of human
speech； trivial or serious； there is a law of proportion。 As in things of
beauty； as in all nature； in the composition as well as in the motion of
all things； there is a similarity of relations by which they are held
together。
It would be a mistake to suppose that the analogies of language are always
uniform： there may be often a choice between several； and sometimes one
and sometimes another will prevail。 In Greek there are three declensions
of nouns； the forms of cases in one of them may intrude upon another。
Similarly verbs in …omega and …mu iota interchange forms of tenses； and the
completed paradigm of the verb is often made up of both。 The same nouns
may be partly declinable and partly indeclinable； and in some of their
cases may have fallen out of use。 Here are rules with exceptions； they are
not however really exceptions； but contain in themselves indications of
other rules。 Many of these interruptions or variations of analogy occur in
pronouns or in the verb of existence of which the forms were too common and
therefore too deeply imbedded in language entirely to drop out。 The same
verbs in the same meaning may sometimes take one case； sometimes another。
The participle may also have the character of an adjective； the adverb
either of an adjective or of a preposition。 These exceptions are as
regular as the rules； but the causes of them are seldom known to us。
Language； like the animal and vegetable worlds； is everywhere intersected
by the lines of analogy。 Like number from which it seems to be derived；
the principle of analogy opens the eyes of men to discern the similarities
and differences of things； and their relations to one another。 At first
these are such as lie on the surface only； after a time they are seen by
men to reach farther down into the nature of things。 Gradually in language
they arrange themselves into a sort of imperfect system； groups of personal
and case endings are placed side by side。 The fertility of language
produces many more than are wanted； and the superfluous ones are utilized
by the assignment to them of new meanings。 The vacuity and the superfluity
are thus partially compensated by each other。 It must be remembered that
in all the languages which have a literature； certainly in Sanskrit； Greek；
Latin； we are not at the beginning but almost at the end of the linguistic
process； we have reached a time when the verb and the noun are nearly
perfected； though in no language did they completely perfect themselves；
because for some unknown reason the motive powers of languages seem to have
ceased when they were on the eve of completion： they became fixed or
crystallized in an imperfect form either from the influence of writing and
literature； or because no further differentiation of them was required for
the intelligibility of language。 So not without admixture and confusion
and displacement and contamination of sounds and the meanings of words； a
lower stage of language passes into a higher。 Thus far we can see and no
further。 When we ask the reason why this principle of analogy prevails in
all the vast domain of language； there is no answer to the question； or no
other answer but this； that there are innumerable ways in which； like
number； analogy permeates； not only language； but the whole world； both
visible and intellectual。 We know from experience that it does not （a）
arise from any conscious act of reflection that the accusative of a Latin
noun in 'us' should end in 'um；' nor （b） from any necessity of being
understood；much less articulation would suffice for this； nor （c） from
greater convenience or expressiveness of particular sounds。 Such notions
were certainly far enough away from the mind of primitive man。 We may
speak of a latent instinct； of a survival of the fittest； easiest； most
euphonic； most economical of breath； in the case of one of two competing
sounds； but these expressions do not add anything to our knowledge。 We may
try to grasp the infinity of language either under the figure of a
limitless plain divided into countries and districts by natural boundaries；
or of a vast river eternally flowing whose origin is concealed from us； we
may apprehend partially the laws by which speech is regulated： but we do
not know； and we seem as if we should never know； any more than in the
parallel case of the origin of species； how vocal sounds received life and
grew； and in the form of languages came to be distributed over the earth。
iii。 Next in order to analogy in the formation of language or even prior
to it comes the principle of onomatopea； which is itself a kind of analogy
or similarity of sound and meaning。 In by far the greater number of words
it has become disguised and has disappeared； but in no stage of language is
it entirely lost。 It belongs chiefly to early language； in which words
were few； and its influence grew less and less as time went on。 To the ear
which had a sense of harmony it became a barbarism which disturbed the flow
and equilibrium of discourse； it was an excrescence which had to be cut
out； a survival which needed to be got rid of； because it was out of
keeping with the rest。 It remained for the most part only as a formative
principle； which used words and letters not as crude imitations of other
natural sounds； but as symbols of ideas which were naturally associated
with them。 It received in another way a new character； it affected not so
much single words； as larger portions of human speech。 It regulated the
juxtaposition of sounds and the cadence of sentences。 It was the music；
not of song； but of speech； in prose as well as verse。 The old onomatopea
of primitive language was refined into an onomatopea of a higher kind； in
which it is no longer true to say that a particular sound corresponds to a
motion or action of man or beast or movement of nature； but that in all the
higher uses of language the sound is the echo of the sense； especially in
poetry； in which beauty and expressiveness are given to human thoughts by
the harmonious composition of the words； syllables； letters； accents；
quantities； rhythms； rhymes； varieties and contrasts of all sorts。 The
poet with his 'Break； break； break' or his e pasin nekuessi
kataphthimenoisin anassein or his 'longius ex altoque sinum trahit；' can
produce a far finer music than any crude imitations of things or actions in
sound； although a let