which ideas occur to the mind, that we must suppose this arrangement to have been the result of literary taste and contrivance.

We might ask, When, and by whom, was the Latin tongue destroyed? Some say by the barbarians who overran the country from the North; but a language could not be laid aside and another adopted at once. Others contend that the Goths cut off the terminations and cases, and improved the logical arrangement; but this supposition staggers credulity itself. Is it not more reasonable to suppose that the present Italian is the original language of the Romans, softened and polished by the use of eighteen hundred years ?* Where are we to look for 'that power of song' which ancient poets speak of, but in the countries which gave it birth ?t

* Mr. Pickering, in an essay on this subject, in the Memoirs of the American Academy, observes, that he had formerly adopted the very prevalent opinion, that the pronunciation of the modern Greeks was grossly corrupt; but that in the investigation of the subject, which he was led to make in consequence of conversations with individuals of the nation, he had found strong reasons for changing his opinion. He now thinks it in the highest degree probable, that the Greeks of the present day pronounce very nearly as their ancestors did, as early as the commencement of the Christian era. Again: it is well known that scholars, second to none in learning and ingenuity, have maintained that modern Italian is a form of Latin which was spoken in the Augustan age.-North American Review, No. LVII.

'The Cardinal Bembo and the Marquis Maffei were of opinion that the ancient Romans had an oral language different from that of books. It is therefore probable that this, and not the written language of Italy, was the mother of the present Italian.—Burney, vol. ii., page 223.

† A modern writer observes, that probably the Etruscan language was spoken during the time of the Romans, and that the Latin was a

Persons who have an ear for sounds have only to listen to a language they do not understand, to be aware of its vocal beauties and defects. The northern tongues are less pleasing than those of milder climes. The severity of the regions in which they are spoken keeps the mouth constantly closed, and the act of speaking is principally performed in the throat. Such guttural and displeasing effects belong not to Greece and Italy. Had we resorted to these countries for their living tones, instead of the dead artificial terminations of the Latins, we should not only have enriched our language with facilities of expression, but have added to its vocal beauty: Who can have listened to this humdrum tongue, without noticing the mouth-closing M at the end of the words, driving the sound through the nose; or the mean and sibilating us, attached to the name of their statesmen and generals? These terminations were never uttered by the people. We hear

them called by the Italians, at this day, Marco and Antonio; the same bold and heroic appellations, doubtless, which the Romans gave them.

The force of a language will depend upon such words as instantly raise the ideas in the mind, and its beauty upon their movement and succession.

written language, and confined to the literati. For if this was not the case, we must suppose, first, that the Etruscan was rooted out by the Latins, and that the Latin has again yielded in its turn to a new tongue; but it is more reasonable to suppose, that when Rome fell, the Latin fell with it, but the language of the people still remains in an improved form in the present Italian.

The first produces the picture, the second the coloring; yet we often derive more pleasure, and are more sensibly moved by the tone of voice than by any meaning we attach to the words. Madame de Staël had all her life a sort of organic delight in the melody of certain verses, altogether abstracted from any consideration of their sense. She recited them often with great pomp and emphasis, and said, 'That is what I call poetry! it is delicious! and so much the more, that it does not convey a single idea to me.' These effects are purely musical; and the pleasure we derive is similar to that of a strain of music upon the ear.

Language is made up of words and syllables; and these syllables, like notes in music, are of all possible lengths. It is a rude and incorrect distinction which the Latin scholars have made in classifying them merely into long and short. The word all, in length of sound, may be represented by a minim,

All

; but the word indivisible, though com

posed of five syllables, will be spoken in a time

equally short

3

consequently,

In di vi si - ble

each syllable in the last word is only one-fifth of the length of the monosyllable. Since syllables are of various lengths, we have in them an imme

diate clue to the rhythm of language. A well-constructed sentence, simply as it regards the flow of words, will, when measured by musical notes, have all the relative proportion of a strain of music, founded upon the laws of musical expression. If we inspect the fine Adagios of Haydn and Beethoven, we shall find them composed of sounds varying in duration from the slowest note to those of the greatest quickness; and if we examine a speech of Shakspeare, or a description of Milton's, we shall find them also composed of words ponderous and slow, mingled with particles and syllables of great rapidity.

With respect to rhythm,—a cultivated ear will find no difficulty in placing the strong expressions in musical order, so that they shall fall upon the accented part of the bar. These words, where properly sustained by the voice, invariably convey the sense; and into them, when we speak with feeling, we infuse the instinctive tone. The smaller words, which are the mere links of language, should be so placed that they can be driven together, if the speaker require room for the display of his voice.

Words may also be said to be of all colors, shapes, and sizes, like the stones and jewels in a lapidary's shop. Their effect in composition will depend upon the order in which they are strung together, so as to * Vide the Chapter upon Time.

render them pleasing to the ear.* The English language, though copious in words, is not well assorted. It is more powerful than beautiful. We abound in the rougher tones, and are deficient in those of delicacy.

The sound of che, as in our words cheese and chest, which gives such softness and flexibility to the Italian, we are nearly without; and in minute sounds we are wholly deficient. We have not a sufficient number of little words like the syllables té, pé, ké, &c.; these particles are useful in accent, while others less acute are serviceable in filling up the chinks, and connecting important words. For these reasons our language is stubborn, and does not work so kindly in musical construction as the Italian.

As an illustration of the above remarks, the following extract from Milton is affixed to musical notes, by which we may ascertain the time and accent which the author probably intended.

* Perhaps a theory might be laid down for the physical gratification of the ear, in the same manner as a gastronomical one has been devised for the delight of the palate.-Carpani, Harmonicon.

Filippo Villani assures us, that the musical modulation of the poetry of Petrarch addressed to Laura was so sweet, that it was on the lips of all the world.—Quarterly Review, No. XLVIIE