spoken of McClellan not as a leader, but as an organizer, of armies; as such he deserves to rank with the Von Moltkes, Scharnhorsts, and Louvois, of the Old World. The constant struggle against the fatal interference of politicians with his military plans and duties separated McClellan from the civil department of his Government, and led him to adopt a policy of his own. The military road to Richmond, and the only one, as events proved, was by the Peninsula and the James River, and it was his duty so to advise. He insisted, and had his way, but not for long. A little of that selfishness, which serves lower intelligences as an instinct of self-preservation, would have shown him that his most dangerous enemies were not in his front. The Administration at Washington had to deal with a people blind with rage, an ignorant and meddlesome Congress, and a wolfish horde of place-hunters. A sudden dash of the Confederates on the capital might change the attitude of foreign powers. These political considerations weighed heavily at the seat of government, but were of small moment to the military commander. In a conflict between civil policy and military strategy, the latter must yield. The jealousy manifested by the Venetian and Dutch Republics toward their commanders has often been critieised; but it should be remembered that they kept the military in strict subjection to the civil power, and, when they were overthrown, it was by foreign invasion, not by military usurpation. Their annals afford no example of the declaration by their generals that the special purpose of republican armies is to preserve civil order and enforce civil law.

After the battle of Chickamauga, in 1863, General Grant was promoted to the command of the armies of the United States, and called to Washington. In a conference at the waroffice between him, President Lincoln, and Secretary Stanton, the approaching campaign in Virginia was discussed. Grant said the advance on Richmond should be made by the James River. It was replied that the Government required the interposition of an army between Lee and Washington, and would not consent, at that late day, to the adoption of a plan that would be taken by the public as a confession of previous error. Grant observed he was indifferent as to routes, but if the Government preferred its own-so often tried-to the one he suggested, it

must be prepared for the additional loss of a hundred thousand men. The men were promised, Grant accepted the governmental plan of campaign, and was supported to the end. The above came to me well authenticated, and I have no doubt of its correctness. During his operations in the Peninsula and near Richmond, General McClellan complained much of the want of support. I think the constancy with which President Lincoln adhered to him was, under the circumstances, surprising. He had drifted away from the dominant Washington sentiment, and alienated the sympathies of his Government. His fall was inevitable the affections of the army but hastened it. Even victory could not save him. He fell into the habit of saying, "My army," "My soldiers." Such phraseology may be used by a Frederick or a Napoleon-sovereigns as well as generals-but officers command the armies of their governments. General McClellan is an upright, patriotic man, incapable of wrongdoing. He has a high standard of morality, and lives closer to it than most men do to a lower one; but it is to be remembered that the examples of the good are temptations and opportunities to the unscrupulous. The habit of thought underlying such language, or soon engendered by its use, has made Mexico and the South American republics the wonder and scorn of civilization. The foregoing account of McClellan's fall, and the causes thereof, is deemed pertinent, because he was the central figure in the Northern field, and laid the foundation of Northern success. Above all, he, and a gallant band of officers supporting him, impressed a generous, chivalric spirit on the conduct of the war, which soon faded away after his downfall; and the future historian, in recounting some later operations, will doubt if he is dealing with campaigns of generals or expeditions of brigands. I have now reached a point at which the great campaign of 1862 opens to view, and a continuation of my "reminiscences" will tell the story of my connection with it.

RICHARD TAYLOR.

VII.

THE ORIGIN OF THE ITALIAN LANGUAGE.

THE question as to the origin of the Italian language has been much discussed by many learned philologists, among whom there has been a considerable conflict of opinion. Some have insisted that modern Italian is a corruption of the ancient Latin effected by the so-called barbarians by whom Rome was overrun. Among those who have most ably sustained this view may be mentioned Tiraboschi, Muratori, Raynouard, Castelvetro, and since them the eminent philologist Max Müller, who, to state his opinion in his own words, holds that "the people in whose minds and mouths these modern dialects" (of the Romance languages) "grew up were not all Romans or Roman provincials, but tribes thinking in German and trying to express themselves in Latin." Others, again, among whom may be cited Maffei and M. Fauriel, have maintained that the change of Latin into Italian was effected by the gradual influence of the various dialects of the provinces into which Latin was introduced by conquest an influence not essentially northern, but rather southern in its character. Mr. Müller, however, though he does not exclude this Romance influence, subordinates it entirely to that of the Germanic languages. M. Littré takes an intermediate view in his "Lectures on the Science of Language" (second series, pp. 275, 276, note). Mr. Müller, however, in commenting on a criticism by M. Littré (Journal des Savants, April, 1856. "Histoire de la langue Française," vol. i., p. 94), adopts the following words of his critic as expressing perfectly his own view of the subject: "A mon tour venant par la série de ces études, à m'occuper du débat ouvert, j'y prend une position intermédiaire, 7

VOL. CXXVI. NO. 260.

pensant que, essentiellement, c'est la tradition latine qui domine dans les langues romaines, mais que l'invasion germanique leur a porté un rude coup, et que de ce conflit où ils ont failli succomber, et avec elles la civilisation, il leur est resté des cicatrices encore apparentes et qui sont, à un certain point de vue ces nuances germaniques signalées par Max Müller." The difference between them would, therefore, seem to be that M. Littré attributes the main influence in the formation of the Italian language to the provincial dialects, while Mr. Müller, admitting this influence, subordinates it to that of the Germanic tongues.

A third view has been taken and strenuously argued by Cesare Cantù. He holds, and in this he is supported by Aretino,* Cardinal Bembo,† Diez, and Fuchs, that "modern Italian is the ancient Latin vernacular, or lingua rustica, not changed essentially, but simply modified by time and accident, so that the law of continuity established in physics by Leibnitz has been verified in this language that no solution of continuity was produced by sudden revolutions, but that successive evolutions reduced the spoken Latin to the modern dialect-evolutions conformable to the usual methods by which the human spirit creates, wears out, and transforms speech, and, therefore, in conformity with the organic processes and developments of other languages."

Cesare Cantù had originally put forth these views in an elaborate note in the appendix to his "Storia degli Italiani," when, in 1869, the Academia Pontoniana, of Naples, proposed as a theme for a prize essay the solution of the following questions: "What credit are we to allow to the proposition that Italian is only a corruption of Latin? The essential differences of the two languages-admitting that Italian is a degenerate Latin, how was this transformation effected? Finally, What is to be said of the opinion that Italian was spoken in Rome even while Latin was a living language. Having examined these questions, establish the true sources of the Italian language, declare whether it is the exclusive patrimony of a single province of the Peninsula, or how far the other provinces, especially those of the south, may claim to possess it."

To this Cantù responded by a still more careful and elab

* L. 6, ep. 10.

+"Storia della Poesia," t. i., p. 41.

orate essay, to which the prize was formally adjudged. It is certainly an able paper, which is well worthy of deep consideration, though it leaves much to be desired. In an essay which of necessity was limited in extent, it was impossible thoroughly to investigate a question of this kind; but as far as he goes he has shown acumen and ability, and it is impossible not to be struck with the force of his reasoning.

Sir George Cornwall Lewis denounces as "absurd" the "fancy that the Romance or the Italian existed as the language of the lower orders of ancient Italy, in a shape little different from that which they bore in the thirteenth century," and declares that "there is no evidence whatever for the opinion that the Romana rustica or vulgaris was a language distinct in its forms or roots from the Latin, and spoken by the lower class or the peasants of Italy, still less is there any proof that this language was the base of the Italian." This proposition, however, is precisely that which Cantù undertakes to maintain, and, whatever one may think of his conclusions, he clearly shows that this "fancy" is neither "absurd" nor without evidence. Of course, in a question of this kind, even if we assume the fact that a lingua rustica differing from the written Latin really existed, it would be very difficult to accumulate a sufficiently large number of instances from Latin authors clearly to prove it. The literature was all in Latin, and it is only here and there that a fragment drawn from the common utterance of the people could be expected to be found. There can be no doubt, however, that there was a variety of languages differing from each other more or less vitally, which were spoken in the various provinces in Italy, some of them quite unintelligible even then to a pure Latin.

"Sermonem Ausonii patrium moresque tenebunt,
Utque est nomen erit,"

says Virgil. Do these languages ever find a place in the written literature of Rome? Would it be possible to prove their character and nature from that literature? How, then, can it be absurd to suppose that there was a lingua rustica differing from literary Latin, and used by the common people of at least some districts. Whether this language really existed or not, or whether it was the parent of the modern Italian, are different questions;