carefully guarded against favouring any particular hypothesis, it
appears, that as no foreign nation ever gained any permanent footing in
the most mountainous parts of this country since the establishment of
the Tuscans and Romans, the language now spoken could never have
suffered any considerable alterations from extraneous mixtures of modern
languages. And to those who may object, that languages like all other
human institutions will, though left to themselves, be inevitably
affected by the common revolutions of time, I shall observe, that a
language, in which no books are written, but which is only spoken by a
people chiefly devoted to arms and agriculture, and consequently not
cultivated by the criticisms of men of taste and learning, is by no
means exposed to the vicissitudes of those that are polished by refined
nations;[AF] and that, however paradoxical it may appear, it is
nevertheless true, that the degeneracy of a language is more frequently
to be attributed to an extravagant refinement than to the neglect of an
illiterate people, unless indeed external causes interfere. May we not
hence conclude, that as the Romansh has never been used in any regular
composition in writing till the sixteenth century, nor affected by any
foreign invasion or intimate connexion, it is not likely to have
received any material change before the period of its being written? And
we have the authority of the books since printed to prove, that it is at
present the identical language that was spoken two hundred years ago.
These arguments will receive additional weight from the proofs I shall
hereafter give of the great affinity there is between the language as it
is now spoken, and the Romance that was used in France nine centuries
ago.

When we further consider the facts I have above briefly related, the
wonder will cease, that in a cluster of mountains, situated in the
centre of Europe, a distinct language (not a dialect or jargon of those