It has been the almost invariable remark of certain scholars who have devoted their attention to the study of the old Tamil literature, that it seems, to judge from its actual state and form, to have had no commencement. Unlike the languages and literatures of other peoples, which pass through various stages of natural development before arriving at maturity, the high dialect of the Tamil has apparently sprung up into full-grown manhood from the very instant of its birth, like the fabled offsprings of rishis, without traversing the intermediate states of infancy and youth. The philologist has before him a language which, to borrow the words of an eminent lexicographer, is “in its poetic form more polished and exact than the Greek, and in both dialects, with its borrowed treasures, more copious than the Latin;” but of the origin and growth of which he seeks in vain to catch a glimpse through the veil of impenetrable darkness which hangs over it. If we go back to the earliest source of existing literature, we find it to be a grammatical one. In fact, the author of Tolkâppiyam, perhaps the oldest grammatical work extant, is alleged to have been the immediate disciple of the mythical Agastya, the reputed author of the Tamil language itself. Beyond Agastya all is obscurity.