Language is a science of very modern date. We cannot trace
its lineage much beyond the beginning of our century, and it is scarcely
received as yet on a footing of equality by the elder branches of
learning. Its very name is still unsettled, and the various titles that
have been given to it in England, France, and Germany are so vague and
varying that they have led to the most confused ideas among the public at
large as to the real objects of this new science. We hear it spoken of as
Comparative Philology, Scientific Etymology, Phonology, and Glossology. In
France it has received the convenient, but somewhat barbarous, name of
_Linguistique_. If we must have a Greek title for our science, we might
derive it either from _mythos_, word, or from _logos_, speech. But the
title of _Mythology_ is already occupied, and _Logology_ would jar too
much on classical ears. We need not waste our time in criticising these
names, as none of them has as yet received that universal sanction which
belongs to the titles of other modern sciences, such as Geology or
Comparative Anatomy; nor will there be much difficulty in christening our
young science after we have once ascertained its birth, its parentage, and
its character. I myself prefer the simple designation of the Science of
Language, though in these days of high-sounding titles, this plain name
will hardly meet with general acceptance.

From the name we now turn to the meaning of our science. But before we
enter upon a definition of its subject-matter, and determine the method
which ought to be followed in our researches, it will be useful to cast a
glance at the history of the other sciences, among which the science of
language now, for the first time, claims her place; and examine their
origin, their gradual progress, and definite settlement. The history of a
science is, as it were, its biography, and as we buy experience cheapest
in studying the lives of others, we may, perhaps, guard our young science
from some of the follies and extravagances inherent in youth by learning a
lesson for which other branches of human knowledge have had to pay more
dearly.

There is a certain uniformity in the history of most sciences. If we read
such works as Whewell's History of the Inductive Sciences or Humboldt's
Cosmos, we find that the origin, the progress, the causes of failure and
success have been the same for almost every branch of human knowledge.
There are three marked periods or stage