distinct from a natural language. It was at first separated from the
dialect of the people, and afterwards carefully preserved from all
contamination by it. Only a restricted number of words were admitted into
its select vocabulary. We learn from Servius that Virgil was censured for
admitting _avunculus_ into epic verse; and Quintilian says that the
prestige of ancient use alone permits the appearance in literature of
words like _balare_, _hinnire_, and all imitative sounds. [1] Spontaneity,
therefore, became impossible, and soon invention also ceased; and the
imperial writers limit their choice to such words as had the authority of
classical usage. In a certain sense, therefore, Latin was studied as a
dead language, while it was still a living one. Classical composition,
even in the time of Juvenal, must have been a labour analogous to, though,
of course, much less than, that of the Italian scholars of the sixteenth
century. It was inevitable that when the repositaries of the literary
idiom were dispersed, it should at once fall into irrecoverable disuse;
and though never properly a dead language, should have remained as it
began, an artificially cultivated one. [2] An important claim on our
attention put forward by Roman literature is founded upon its actual
historical position. Imitative it certainly is. [3] But it is not the only
one that is imitative. All modern literature is so too, in so far as it
makes a conscious effort after an external standard. Rome may seem to be
more of a copyist than any of her successors; but then they have among
other models Rome herself to follow. The way in which Roman taste,
thought, and expression have found their way into the modern world, makes
them peculiarly worthy of study; and the deliberate method of undertaking
literary composition practised by the great writers and clearly traceable
in their productions, affords the best possible study of the laws and
conditions under which literary excellence is attainable. Rules for
composition would be hard to draw from Greek examples, and would need a
Greek critic to formulate them. But the conscious workmanship of the