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EDINBURGH 
 MONTHLY REVIEW. 
 
 J. he Proprietors of the Edinburgh Monthly Review beg leave to sub- 
 mit to your consideration the following extracts of original criticism from 
 that work. They feel assured that, when you shall have perused these 
 pieces of composition, you will agree with their numerous readers, that 
 the plan and principles upon which the Edinburgh Monthly Review is 
 conducted, are such as to confine it, in the stricter sense of the word, to 
 a Review; not a collection of dissertations, for the most part political, 
 and having little reference either to the subject, or to the merits, of any 
 publication. All disquisition, not essentially connected with a critical 
 examination of the books reviewed, is generally rejected, the object being, 
 not an uninteresting analysis, but such a just and full accouut of new 
 Publications, as may convey a decided judgment on their merits, without 
 pretending in all cases to supersede their perusal. 
 
 The Monthly period of publication, rather than the Quarterly, has been 
 adopted. No Article will be continued to a succeeding Number, as the 
 reviews will vary in length, according to the importance of the subject. 
 A principle of Selection, rather than an attempt at a Universal View of 
 Literature, will be observed. With as few exceptions as possible, none 
 but the most recent publications will be introduced, that the decision of 
 the public may be seasonably anticipated. Though the Journal will be 
 chiefly occupied with British Literature, yet occasional articles on works 
 of Science, or on the more n ||| i»li^4H» i yn^l"i tinim either Literary 01 
 Scientific, of the Foreign frlSfj&ffitt&ti^fy 
 Z^p* 0* TOT 
 
 [■J rjROTff 
 
 EXTRACTS^MjjJf p^3P^)ci<2rSM FROM 
 
 No. X. Oct. 1H19, Art.VL Lion Juan — Lord Byron's Poetry. 
 
 **** We have, indeed, a very high opinion of the genius of this poet. 
 He is gifted above all his contemporaries with that divine energy which 
 wakens all it touches into fervid animation. It is this incommunicable 
 faculty, or rather this preternatural conformation of all the faculties of 
 the soul, which announces the mighty poet, and promises him dominion 
 over the mind of his species. We perceive it in all his movements— in the 
 " thoughts that breathe and words that burn" — in the warm and searching 
 current of inspiration, which pervades and exalts the inert materials of his 
 art, and lends the charmed aspect of life to its slumbering elements. The 
 power of the great poet is literally creative; — creative of combinations 
 unimagined before— of new and hitherto unfelt emotions. And the most 
 
singular feature in the character of Byron is, the freedom and boldness 
 with which he draws upon the rich resources of his own genius, and the 
 large proportion which, in /«s,works, the splendid contributions of fancy 
 bear to the materials about which it is employed, and the fragments of 
 story borrowed from without — a scale of proportion which gives to hit 
 compositions, above all others, the unity and fulness of inspiration. lie 
 does not avail himself of the cheap and vulgar resources of incredible ad- 
 venture, to provoke that interest which might be denied to the feeble ap- 
 peals of his own unaided imagination ; but, casting from him all artificial 
 support, moves proudly onward in the self-sustained energy of his own 
 conscious power — extorting the homage which he desires, even from the 
 lacerated feelings of his readers, and triumphing in the very resistance of 
 their disturbed and insulted prejudices; — and, instead of calling those 
 classic remembrances, with which he seems so elegantly familiar, in aid 
 of the equivocal inspiration of his muse, employing them only as casual 
 and subordinate ornaments of that terrible personification of wild and 
 lawless energy, which, as it is the peculiar creation of his fancy, seems 
 dearest of all to his heart. 
 
 ******* * 
 
 His works afford ample scope indeed for the minute inquiries in which 
 technical criticism loves to indulge, and are full of poetical riches and 
 beauties, — but they also provoke another sort of criticism, which is ef 
 far higher interest. The character and influence of Lord Byron's works, 
 be they good or bad, are prominently and conspicuously of a moral na- 
 ture; and it is in the very worst style of drivelling apology for his indis- 
 cretions, to pretend that, because the sentiments so powerfully and elo- 
 quently enforced come to us through the medium of fiction and the music 
 of poetry, they are therefore indifferent or ineffective — as if writers of 
 this class, in the power of their living pictures, did not deal more pro- 
 foundly with the imagination than all others — or as if the characters writ- 
 ten on the soul of man by the hand of genius, were not more indelible by 
 far than the feeble impress attempted to be given by didactic drudgery 
 and elaborate moralising. 
 
 ******** 
 
 One unhappy characteristic of the mind of Byron, however, too con- 
 spicuous in the greater part of his poetry, is that dark and dreary scepti- 
 cism which has been observed and lamented by all classes of critics. It is 
 not merely that his doubtiugsouHs painfully suspended betwixt the hope 
 of future existence and the dread of annihilation, but that, with an appa- 
 rently fixed disbelief of futurity, he seems to mingle the most bitter scorn 
 of all its bright promises. His is not a spirit agitated with doubts, and 
 breathing out its sadness in low and melancholy murmurs. The senti- 
 ment of infidelity is, in the mind of the poet, not diffident and quiescent, 
 but fiercely and vindictively active; pot a dreary shadow, oppressing and 
 darkening the intellect, but a foul and pregnant cloud, to which the spark 
 of passion is unceasingly applied. It is uot the dream of a speculative 
 intellect, prisoned in the toils wrought by its own fitful activity, and 
 struggling for liberty and life in the grasp of the subtle enchantment ; 
 but the dark and troubled movement of a wayward imagination, grap- 
 pling in proud defiance with the terrors of that eternity which it dare not 
 meet in the sobriety of reason. This attitude of defiance and contempt is 
 not the natural one of calm and assured scepticism ; there lurks a thick 
 drop of believing terror in the inmost recesses of that bosom which dis- 
 charges the poison of its contumely against the awful truths of religion. 
 It is the dead weight of perverted passion alone that could have degraded 
 the mounting spirit of Byron into the scorner of the lofty destiny of his 
 nature; and his upward energy, suppressed, but unextinguished, yet 
 heaves and palpitates beneath the incumbent load. The scepticism of 
 
Byron is not like the philosophic wandering of Lucretius, through the 
 dark regions of speculation, where the bewildered spirit clasps some dis- 
 ordered phantom sprung from its own chaotic agitations, as the creative 
 and upholding power of universal nature. The spirit of the modern poet 
 does not pretend to have completed, or even attempted, the giddy round 
 of philosophical speculation, returning from the cheerless voyage with the 
 usual freight of fictions and absurdities. The infidelity of Byron is a very 
 repulsive species of bold, unenquiring, contemptuous dogmatism. It is 
 not the trembling ague of the understanding, but the bad and burning 
 fever of the heart. Hence it is, that it developes itself — not in modest 
 doubt and compassionable hesitation — not under the type and with the 
 symptoms of a disease purely intellectual, — but in starts of phrenzied and 
 infectious profanity — in grumbling reproach and deep resentment, com- 
 pared with which, the levity of Voltaire himself is but the sting of an in- 
 sect to the rabid ferocity of a tiger. 
 
 ******** 
 The sudden transition of this author from grave to humorous poetry, 
 showed the extent of his resources, and the compass of his power. By 
 the course, however, which he has latterly taken, he has at once perfected 
 his renown as a man of genius, and his shame as a miracle of depravity. 
 Beppo was in many parts reprehensible, but Don Juan is scandalous 
 
 throughout. 
 
 Suffice it then to say, in general— for we speak not to invite, but to re- 
 pel, all that is pure from the perusal of this enchanted repository of pol- 
 lution — that Don Juan is by far the most offensive of all Lord Byron's 
 performances, — that the occasional profanity which defiled his graver, and 
 the indecency which stained his lighter, productions, are here embodied 
 into the compactness of a system, and have been madly exalted from their 
 station as humble though repulsive accessaries of his theme, to be its 
 avowed end, purpose, and consummation, — that we have here, for the 
 first time in the history of our literature, a great work, of which the very 
 basis is infidelity and licentiousness, and the most obtrusive ornaments are 
 impure imaginations and blasphemous sneers, — that, in fine, the poet has 
 exhausted the rich gifts with which it has pleased Providence to endow 
 him, in constructing the most spacious and splendid temple of lust and 
 impiety that has ever been reared by human profligacy and genius. The 
 work cannot perish ; for it has in it, full and overflowing, the elements 
 of intellectual vigour, and bears upon it the stamp of surpassing power. 
 The poet is indeed " damned to everlasting fame." He has struck a blow 
 against the honour and happiness of his species, which will make him be 
 remembered. Neither must it be forgotten, that in this marvellous pro- 
 duction of depravity, in which the author has, with the inflamed imagi- 
 nation of the most gifted poet, and the unswerving zeal of the most reso- 
 lute founder of a system, dethroned virtue and piety from their pre-emi- 
 nence, and exhibited a perfect compound of immorality in the condensed 
 energy of his maxims, and a grand panorama of licentiousness in the se- 
 ductive exuberance of his details; — that, in this magnificent structure of 
 impurity, in which he has so wantoned in the delights of licentious love; 
 — and so struggled to exalt and to endear scenes of conjugal infidelity, — 
 in which he has so powerfully painted the utmost suffering and terrors of 
 humanity, only that he might triumph with malignant scorn over its un- 
 utterable woes, — and, above all, in which he has endeavoured to conceal 
 the horrors of his guilty creation in the darkness of unbelief and the raving 
 triumph of atheistic defiance; — that in this tumult of malignity towards 
 mankind, there was yet room in the heart of this singular being for ma- 
 lice of a more peculiar and concentrated nature, scandalously directed 
 against her towards whom, as he ought ever to have breathed the purest 
 
tenderness, he ought now to make his life a course of fond and affectionate 
 reparation. 
 
 There is no subject, indeed, which poetical talent, such as that pos- 
 sessed by Lord Byron, will not invest with momentary interest, and clothe 
 with unmerited fascinations. But though the rays of genius may gather 
 round the mass of moral putrefaction, and gild it with their prostituted 
 brilliancy, they can never exalt or perpetuate an ignoble or revolting 
 theme. The triumph of the great poet consists in the universal sympathy 
 and intelligence with which his works are received: By becoming the star 
 of a peculiar sect, or the idol of some petty circle, his true glory is 
 eclipsed for ever. Can Lord Byron believe, for a moment, that the sym- 
 pathy and admiration of the world are ever to be attracted to this tale of 
 slander, blasphemy, and lust? — or was it his poor ambition, instead of 
 reigning in the hearts of mankind, to be worshipped only in some loath- 
 some coterie of sensuality t It is probable that this misguided being has 
 never imagined to himself what the world must become before Don Juan 
 can be popular, — before it can command the approbation of those who 
 dispense the highest rewards of poetical genius. 
 
 ******** 
 There is something quite new and peculiar, indeed, in the whole career 
 of Byron. Madame de Stael, in treating of English literature, remarks, 
 " II n'y a point on Angleterre de memoires, de confessions, de recits de 
 '* soi faits par soi-m6me : la fierte du caractere Anglais se refuse a ce 
 " genre de details et d'aveux." Lord Byron has proved a conspicu- 
 ous exception to the truth of this remark : He seems to have identified 
 his character with his writings ; his poetry, at least a considerable portion 
 of it, is a mirror in which are reflected the movements of his soul. He 
 has even obtruded the events of his life upon public notice $ he has soli- 
 cited regard to the dark current of his sorrows ; he has revealed the pri- 
 vacy of his domestic life, and demanded the public judgment of his cha- 
 racter. His spirit had already been, in great part, developed to the world 
 by his poetical pilgrimage, which embodied the dark and tumultuous as- 
 pirations of a soul that had ever been a stranger to repose. The world, 
 which admired his genius, was subdued into compassion for his sorrows, 
 however capricious and distempered might be the source from which they 
 flowed. The moody and self-tormenting temperament of genius was re- 
 cognized, pitied, and reverenced ; and the complaints of Byron, however 
 whimsical their origin, in the midst of all the apparent elements of happi- 
 ness, and however questionable or unintelligible their tendency, were lis- 
 tened to with a sort of charmed sympathy and commiseration. But the 
 sudden transfusion of this poetical character into the realities of life, — the 
 dreadful apparition of it in the most hallowed retreats of domestic purity, 
 — the destroying taint of its sullen egotism and unintelligible fury, amid 
 scenes over which the smooth clear stream of gentle affection is alone 
 permitted to wind its course, struck every one with amazement and aver- 
 sion. It became but too evident, that the delicious repose of English 
 domestic life was utterly uncongenial to the perturbed soul of Byron. He 
 voluntarily exiled himself from a country which he had equally honoured 
 and insulted, — honoured by the display of his extraordinary talents, and 
 insulted by the outrage of its most cherished affections and revered insti- 
 tutions. He has now chosen, as his place of exile, a region where all 
 things that present themselves — whether the melancholy monuments of 
 decayed grandeur, or the living varieties of unscrupulous luxury and gra- 
 tification — will correspond to the majestic but depraved temperament of 
 his own unintelligible nature : but he must not, from this voluptuous re- 
 tirement, insult the purity which he has voluntarily renounced, and to 
 which it now appears but too probable that he is fated never to return. 
 
No. Xllf. Jan. 1820, Art. VI. State of the Country. 
 
 ** * * The state of the country at the present moment absorbs univer- 
 sal attention ; and we feel that we should not do our duty to our readers, 
 if, under the apprehension of any unreasonable and invidious imputa- 
 tions of party spirit, we should abstain from offering an unbiassed opinion 
 on the mighty discussions now going forward, in which the present peace, 
 and the future destiny, of the state, appear to be involved. This is no 
 party question — no petty dispute, turning upon the wretched prejudices 
 and fantastic distinctions of faction ; there is here no field upon which the 
 ordinary evolutions of party can be safely or conveniently performed, or 
 upon which its cumbrous machinery can be put to work, while the coun- 
 try may be perishing in the interval consumed by the heartless exhibition. 
 But there is a great and holy cause, in which all inferior interests are 
 merged, and over which it is a sort of profanation to breathe the pesti- 
 lence of ordinary and vulgar dissensions. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Putting the danger of revolution, then, out of the question, we still 
 think that there would be imminent hazard of the most appalling troubles, 
 if that supine and treacherous policy were followed, which we are sorry 
 to observe some persons, of no small name, strenuously recommending. 
 The most sincere contempt of party distinction is best shewn, we think, 
 in times like the present, by an undisguised reprobation of the conduct of 
 any body of men, if such there be, whatever political appellation they 
 may assume, who are deficient in the spirit which the crisis so loudly de- 
 mands, and who, in prosecuting their schemes of selfish ambition, deign, 
 to traffic with anarchy on the very eve of its eruption. 
 
 Such are the men, possessing high influence and reputation in a coun- 
 try, beneath whose shadow the schemes of anarchy have, in all ages, been 
 darkly matured. Such are the men, whose countenance, although it mav 
 be v extended with far different views, gives animation to the drooping spi- 
 rit of sedition, and imparts courage to its most atrocious undertakings. 
 They do not intend revolution, it is true, for nothing could be more fatal 
 to all their enterprises, iucluding their success in those very struggles of 
 party warfare which induces them, unwittingly, to countenance disaffec- 
 tion itself as no contemptible auxiliary. Rut they are Urns rendered neu- 
 tral, when neutrality becomes culpable ; they vehemently oppose the sys- 
 tem of coercion which the crisis demands; and, besides the weight of 
 their influence, which is thus withdrawn from the measures that are to 
 crush the evil, their sour and peevish opposition seems to announce to the 
 disaffected that they have justice on their side, and that the resistance 
 which they meditate to the laws is but the unextinguishable energy of 
 free-born men, waging war with the most scandalous oppression. This it 
 is that hallows the cause of disaffection in the eyes of the multitude, and, 
 by spuriously investing it with the attributes of justice and of right, gives 
 it a power which the reckless votaries of ambition imperfectly appreciate, 
 when they thus venture to temporize with the destroying spirit, and 
 vainly flatter themselves that they can chain down the turbulence which 
 they cherish in a state of convenient subserviency to their own views, and 
 can employ its terrors with impunity, either to mitigate their own paltry 
 defeats, or to exalt their yet more despicable triumphs. 
 ******** 
 
 But is is said that Ministers ought, instead of recurring to coercive mea- 
 sures, to have conciliated the people, and to have endeavoured to regain 
 their affections, unhappily alienated by the emissaries of sedition. 
 
 What is meant by conciliating the disaffected ? Is it implied, in this ad- 
 vice, that they nave sustained wrongs of which they are entitled to com- 
 
6 
 
 plain— wrongs sufficient to justify the attitude of rebellion, which they 
 have ventured to assume ? If this be the meaning, — then, away with con- 
 ciliation, — for the proposition is utterly false in point of fact, and can be 
 intended only to mislead and to inflame. What system of conciliation 
 will you propose with the radical reformers, — with men, who proclaim 
 that they will have liberty or death, — who announce to you that their 
 scheme of liberty consists in universal suffrage, annual parliaments, and 
 election by ballot, — nay, who have in some instances vindicated their 
 claim to an agrarian law, and who are fast following up their speculations, 
 by preparing for the sanguinary conflict, through the horrors of which 
 they are to advance to the reality of practical experiment? Would any 
 temperate reform, — any practicable retrenchments of expenditure, — any 
 conciliatory measures, which it is in the power of parliament to adopt 
 without degrading itself and endangering the monarchy, satisfy men who 
 cherish these wild and wicked theories, and who, without the power of 
 estimating the true character of their own terrific visions, are prepared 
 to rush headlong into the violence of instant aud unfaltering performance ? 
 With such men conciliation is impossible, and every step which is impru- 
 dently taken with the view of soothing or reclaiming them, only gives a 
 fresh impulse to their audacity, and imparts to their cause all the courage 
 and confidence which are derived from the apparent pusillanimity of their 
 adversaries. 
 
 But if by conciliation be meant, a tender sympathy with the sufferings 
 of that portion of the labouring classes whom the revolutions of the poli- 
 tical world have sorely affected, and who, in the depths of extreme pri- 
 vation, have continued to exemplify the fortitude and the triumph of 
 virtue, then we may confidently assert, that the spirit of the British go- 
 vernment is conciliation, — that the deeper and more diffused spirit of the 
 British people is conciliation, — that both from the summits and the whole 
 sheltered slopes of British society, there is not only a sympathising glance 
 cast upon all those who are virtuously struggling with the storm that has 
 assailed the base, but a vigorous and outstretched arm ready to lend as- 
 sistance and to save from despair, — and that the country required not any 
 formal or obtrusive remonstrance from factious men to do its duty, and 
 will not yield the glory of this species of conciliation to the stirring and 
 strenuous persons who inculcate, as a desirable novelty, what has so long 
 been rooted in the practical benevolence of an enlightened people. 
 
 No. XIV. Feb. 1820, Art. IV.— Ivanhoe ; a Romance. By "The 
 Author of Waverley." 
 
 * * * * Ivanhoe is indeed an exquisite production. In the fascination of 
 its perusal, engrossed by its novelty, excited by its terrors, and charmed by 
 its beauties, we were at first unfitted for our task of criticism. Our own 
 voice was small immediately after so much that was powerfully impres- 
 sive ; but we soon saw reason to re-approach these volumes with more 
 than our usual share of pleasure. Much of that pleasure arises from our 
 satisfaction in the brilliant success of our countryman, — for so, under his 
 thickest veil, we may safely call him, — in a trial as bold as it was new. 
 The extension, to such a degree of a circle already so great, is wizardlike. 
 With a charm far beyond the power of Michael Scott, he had already made 
 Scotland his own to its remotest isles ; but now, with one mighty cast, he 
 has brought England within the pale of his genius; and, with her interest- 
 ing people, established her, too, a province of his empire. For such a 
 dominion as his, it is a noble increase of territory j an incalculable acqui- 
 
sition of resources ; and we congratulate the world on their prospects, 
 from the cultivation of the one, and the improvement of the other. Of 
 these results, we augur well from the manifest love of the author for that 
 favoured region. His enthusiasm for the " Land of his sires" we have 
 marked finely blended wilh a hearty good -will to generous jojous Eng- 
 land ; and often has a mellow touch from that fair field of natural beauty 
 and moral worth, enriched his Scottish pictures. There is glee in his 
 words when he sees a stately English Hall, the better to him, if in autique 
 massy wainscotting — with its Christmas cheer and October ale. He loves 
 a majestic oak, and meadow of England's own verdure. He never passes 
 a bold yeoman without a word of fellowship with his blunt honesty and 
 independent spirit, loving him the more for his quarter-staff and his 
 mighty how; and there is in him a kindred mood of gallantry and high- 
 feeling, and a proud tone to suit it, when he marshals forth the knights, 
 the peers, the princes of lofty England. Yet were his incursions, al- 
 though one of them did extend to the capital, only " forays on the Eng- 
 lish side," from which his main object has often recalled him. Now for 
 the first time he has made England the seat of an entire campaign — a 
 thorough general invasion, with all the means of his own retreat boldly 
 destroyed. It required all our confidence in his invincibility, to feel at ease, 
 when we lost sight of him, till we saw him again triumphant. So feel be- 
 siegers for a forlorn-hope, till its victorious flag flies on the walls, and 
 the day is their own. in his first foreign enterprise, he is as much at 
 home as he ever was in his native land ; and, from what he has already 
 done, he has in store, we have no doubt, much of wonder for our neigh- 
 bours of the south that he should know more about them than they know 
 about themselves ; till, with Faulconbridge, they exclaim, 
 
 " How easy doth he take all England up!" 
 
 or, wilh Richard, 
 
 " As were our England in reversion his, 
 
 ** And lie our subjects, next degree in hope !'' 
 
 We think it is to mistake the very essence of this composition, in which 
 there is so much knowledge as well as nature, to consider it a romance, in 
 the common acceptation of that term. It is true it treats of knights, and 
 feats of arras, and ladies' love; but it has nothing to do with dragons, 
 and giants, and enchantments ; and it is conversant with that to which ro- 
 mance is an utter stranger, — nature, iR the workings of the human heart, 
 the play of human passions, and the exercise of human sympathies. But 
 the ehief distinguishing feature of the composition is the minute, faith- 
 ful, and highly-finished picture which it contains of England, at a period 
 when her singularly compounded population exhibited a variegation of 
 aspect, which a more harmonious mixture has Jong since done away. It 
 is not an antiquarian museum of reliqucs, or a vista of ruins; a Portici, 
 or a Pompeii ; but a living stage of manners and costume ; a theatre of 
 stirring passion and busy action. The reality is conjured up, till we lose, 
 for the time, all consciousness except that of being subjects of Richard 
 Coeur de Lion. All that was then in bustling motion, and has reposed in 
 the oblivion of the tomb, for six hundred years, starts into life in the tale 
 of lvanhoe; and to us a singular life of violence and passion it seems. It 
 is an error into which a dull chronicler alone will fall, that such pictures, 
 so faithfully copied, the result of so rare a combination of profound and 
 laborious erudition, with the finest play of fancy and exercise of feeling, 
 shall still be called idle tales, that leave no useful impressions or lessons 
 of instruction. Confiding, as we do, in the perfect fidelity of the curious 
 exhibitions; assured that there is therein no action or expression, no tint 
 or drapery, for which an erudite autiquariau shall fail to find the warrant, 
 
8 
 
 we do not hesitate to say, that, although not history in themselves, the 
 study of history has a powerful ally in such fascinating: works, which are 
 not less the records of truth than the triumphs of imagination. The field 
 has no limits ; neither, we trust, have the genius and perseverance of its 
 cultivator. 
 
 ******** 
 
 We have thought, that giving, as briefly as it would admit of, a com- 
 prehensive summary of the whole story, is the most suitable mode of pass- 
 ing judgment upon it ; that all may read the sentence in the merit of the 
 performance. We place it in a higher scale of epopee than any of the 
 same author's previous compositions. A higher and nobler mark is aim- 
 ed at, and hit, to use one of the author's own expressions, in the white. 
 With more of dignity in his march, there is less of humour. Neverthe- 
 less of the latter there are here and there some choice morsels. There is a 
 fund of learning, which impresses us with the conviction, that the author 
 was equally fitted to indite the graver annals of the times as a historian, 
 and to furnish the curious antique exhibition from which we have just 
 passed. v 
 
 There can be no proof more striking of this writer's power than his un- 
 ruffled defiance of censure. He tranquilly repeats the same alleged trans- 
 gression, till he fairly overturns the canon itself; and, reversing the ac- 
 count, demonstrates all his trespasses to have been virtues, mistaken for 
 vices by the limited views of those who areaocustomed to the beaten track 
 of criticism. It was, for example, almost a maxim in belles lettres, that 
 real and fictitious story ought never to be mixed in the same composition ; 
 that a disregard of this rule was at once dangerous to the real history, 
 and utterly destructive of the interest of the fiction. Miss Porter's 
 u Scottish Chiefs" has been held up as a fatal warning to all future trans- 
 gressors in the same sort. Now, it happened that all attempts of the kind 
 were of the nature of Miss Porter's extravagancies, inasmuch as they did 
 not blend real but false history with fiction. Our author was the first 
 who tried the effect of engrafting an interesting fiction— no part of which 
 was at least incompatible with known historical record, and all of which 
 was borne out by the ascertained manners and customs of the times — upon 
 some great and peculiarly interesting historical event, which he related 
 with all the fidelity of a historian. There can be no doubt, that, so far 
 from a fault, as it had always been held, the beauty and harmony of this 
 unwonted alliance have given the chief charm to his matchless composi- 
 tions. 
 
 The tale before us proves, for farther example, that in spite of many an 
 adraouition to beware of romance, and knights and their combats, the in- 
 exhaustible genius of the author can impart intense interest, and all the 
 charm of novelty, to romance, with its knights and their combats. 
 
 But the rule of criticism in fiction, which the author has set most of all 
 at nought, is the well-known one, that every tale must have a hero, and, 
 if love perform a part, a heroine; personages for whom our sympathies 
 are concentrated, and to whose final fortunes, happy or tragical, all the 
 actings of the other characters in the piece shall be subservient. The 
 
 {>oet of Marmion, every one knows, shewed the same disregard of the old 
 aw, in that and all his succeeding poems. Heroes and heroines be did 
 purvey, in a sort of unwilling homage to the prejudice: but they were a 
 series of remarkably uninteresting persons, while some subordinate per- 
 former claimed all our concern. In this our unknown novelist has, with 
 an exception or two, followed the course of the poet alluded to, and never 
 more than in the tale before us. 
 
 With the exception of giving and receiving some rather discomposing 
 shocks with a long pole, lvanhoe does not do or say any thing which ex- 
 cites in us a very refined as well as powerful interest in him. We are 
 

 
 scarcely allowed to see his face, much less to estimate his character ; for 
 we find him either cased in iron or smothered in bed-clothes; and when 
 we have admitted that he was a good tilter, and had a marvellous seat on 
 horseback, we find that, absolutely, we can say no more. The same sort 
 of summary of Malcolm Graeme's merits was, we have heard, given by a 
 good old lady — " He was a bonny lad, and a good swimmer." Rowena, 
 thrown into the scale of all her predecessors, — saving always the incom- 
 parable Jeany Deans, — would still leave a true heroine uncorapounded ; 
 and the aggregate would strike the beam, weighed against the solitary 
 Rebecca, who is not the heroine, goes unrewarded, and is left unhappy 
 and unlamented. But the truth is, the author needs uo heroes, and really 
 intends none. His work is a picture, more than a narrative ; the whole 
 is presented to the eye at once; every figure takes its importance from 
 the prominence of its form, strength of its action, and vividness of its co- 
 louring; and the spectator, while he is delighted with the combiued effect, 
 is left — and it is a great privilege — to choose his own favourites from the 
 group. The author, too, gives the render's discrimination additional 
 exercise, to determine the question, which of the characters is most 
 powerfully drawn, as well as which is the most amiable and deserving. 
 For it does not always hold of characters in fiction as of governments, 
 that 
 
 H That wkich is best arlministerM is best." 
 
 Where all the characters, with a few executions, are powerfully and dis- 
 tinctively imagined, it is difficult to particularise. The general features of 
 the ruder but honester .Anglo-Saxon are well contrasted with those of the 
 Norman, at once the dundy and tyrant of the period. The actual Saxons, 
 again, are quite distinct in their individual qualities from each other — the 
 proud, prejudiced, but honest Cedric, from the easy Athelstanc, who has 
 grown fat in possession, but whose bravery no ease can diminish ; and both 
 of them, again, from Ivanhoe, who is altogether Norman, and a specimen 
 of the link which began to unite the races into a compound of higher cha- 
 racter and greater power, than either would have singly reached. The 
 ruffian group of Norman Lords and Knights, Priors, Templars, Preceptors, 
 and Grand Masters, is exquisite. All are proud, insolent, cruel, avaricious, 
 and profligate ; yet all are brave; and to their selfish impatience of regal 
 control, unmixed with a jot of patriotism, it must be confessed, we owethe 
 great charter of our liberties! Still the deep, designing Fitzur.se is distinct 
 from the careless, joyous De Bracy ; and the brutal, gigantic Front-dc- 
 Boeuf from the more polished but equally selfish Bois-Guilbert. Yet there 
 is something about them all of splendid and great and gorgeous, which 
 rivets the eye to the spectacle. 
 
 If it is not a tale of Ivauhoe, it is less so of Richard the Lion-hearted. 
 Although he rides a very critical joust or two, and beats down a castle- 
 gate, it is his bodily strength we are called to admire; added to a few 
 touches of hiscasv, careless, generous temper. For Richard, "himself 
 again," we must direct our readers to Madame Cottiu's beautiful novel of 
 " Mathilde." 
 
 Robin Hood and his followers cannot fail to delight every reader. Fcee- 
 booting was then held no crime. These bold yeomen were less guilty than 
 the lords of the land, inasmuch as their prey was of less value, and their 
 oppressions infinitely more limited. Nay, their way of life was the result 
 of the tyranny, ou a greater scale, of their superiors. We are not, there- 
 fore, embarrassed in our admiration of their generosity and honour, and 
 the singular romance of their free and jovial lives, or in prizing even in 
 these banditti that same high character, which, properly cherished and di- 
 rected, entitles the bold yeoman to the name and rank of " his country's 
 pride." 
 
10 
 
 Wamba is not a very great fool. The Jew is a portrait to the life, and 
 most poetically marks the times. We think Prince John on the one hand, 
 and Rebecca on the other, the chcf-d'ceuvres of the piece. We have al- 
 ready commented on the lineaments and masterly relief of the portrait of 
 John. We are almost tempted to say, that Shakespeare never shewed the 
 master's hand more powerfully. If we should be asked, what variety of 
 tyrant would be most likely to endanger his own power with a high-spirited 
 
 fieople ; we should say, not so much a severe but steady ruler, as a sense- 
 ess capricious insulting despot ; precisely a prince who should play the 
 part John did in the lists and banquet at Ashby. 
 
 In the whole range of fictitious composition, we hold Rebecca unsur- 
 passed. She is in moral as well as personal beauty a matchless creature. 
 Her every step is grace — her every look benevolence — her every word 
 wisdom and eloquence — her every action kindness of heart or grandeur of 
 soul — the very Hebrew maid of Byron — 
 
 " She walks in beauty, like the night 
 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies 
 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 
 nd all that's best of dark and brig 
 Meet in hor aspect and her eyes. 
 
 If our feelings are tried, it is that this gentle maiden, with more of na- 
 ture's nobility than belonged in aggregate to all the other characters in 
 the tale, must be sacrificed in the degradation of her unhappy race ; and, 
 after all the throbs of interest and thrills of emotion which she is the means 
 of giving us, be flung aside, when she has served her purpose, "to point a 
 moral, and adorn a tale," without a sigh for her self-devotion, or future 
 destiny. We were angry when this exquisite creature was kneeling to a 
 comparative cypher, and lavishing her costly gifts and all her eloquent 
 generosity upon her. The reader's concern will still follow Rebecca, and, 
 oftcner, we feel assured, will he think in retrospect of Granada than of 
 Rotherwood. 
 
 With an author of such sway, it is bold to find fault ; yet we condemn 
 the story of Athelstane's resurrection as quite extravagant, although hu- 
 morously told. Nor do we see so much benefit to the denouement of the 
 fable, in either the sentiments or actions of Ulrica, as to remove the blot 
 of the extreme improbability of that very unpleasant person's character. 
 The hag is powerfully described ; but that hag never could once have 
 been the child of the Saxon lord of the Castle; nor would she, even if she 
 had, have been permitted for one month to survive her beauty, and hatch 
 treason and veugeance against the Norman tyrant of Torquilstone. 
 
 There is throughout the tale the author's wonted eloquence, and high, 
 free, striking style ; there is too his well-known carelessness, and absolute 
 refusal to stoop to the irksome task of revising what he has written. Ri- 
 diculous enough inconsistencies happen in every fresh chapter, from this ; 
 although they are in very small matters. But these faults are now so in- 
 veterate, that to take notice of them will soon come to be felt as uncivil 
 as it is hopeless; and much on a footing with charging the author, if it 
 were so, with squinting, stammering, or being deaf in one or both of 
 his ears. 
 
 We do not believe that the author has overcharged his picture of the 
 impudent profligates who disgraced the priesthood in the darkest periods 
 of Popery. We are aware that sneers and profanations of sacred things 
 are put by the author in their mouths ; but in these times we feel a repug- 
 nance to deal with such verba jactantia, even to reprobate them. Did not 
 the author burst forth, in many a transcendant passage, with all the truly 
 beautiful and grand of Holy Writ, we should not know what to think of 
 the ease with which he makes his imaginary reprobates ridicule its sacred 
 truths, in a sort of ready-made slaug, with which he furnishes them ! 
 
11 
 
 Many a powerful page of the same author we hope yet to read, and never 
 can find fault with the exposure of hypocrisy ; but, without trying him by 
 the present, or any one, singly, of his works, we shall content ourselves 
 with calling upon him for some sign of his belief, that the clerical character 
 may really be what it ought to be — rational, useful, pious, humble, and 
 sincere ; were it for nothing more than that the first genius of the age 
 may not be quoted to their mobs, as good authority, by the demagogues 
 of the day ; who have so marked an interest, and act so unceasingly in 
 fartherance of it, to vilify and slander the shepherds, as the surest way to 
 seduce the flocks into their own pernicious folds. 
 
 No. XIV. Feb. 1820, Art. VI.— Elements of a Plan for the Li- 
 quidation of the Public Debt of the United Kingdom. By 
 Uichaiid Heath field, Gent. 1819. 
 
 **** Do we think, then, upon the whole, that no relief is practicable, 
 and that the public debt must proceed accumulating indefinitely, till ruin 
 shall overtake the country ? We do not think so : but we have no room 
 at present to explain the views which occur to us upon this interesting 
 subject. A sudden and entire liquidation never can be realized; a great 
 nation, which has proceeded so far in the funding system, could not entire- 
 ly retrace its steps without a great convulsion. We are not satisfied that 
 a total redemption could, under any view, be desirable; but we feel as- 
 sured that a large reduction must by some vigorous measure be speedily 
 attempted. But the means of this reduction are to be found, not in pro- 
 perty, but in income — in a course of strict economy — in the continuance 
 of that pacific disposition with which the great powers of Europe appear 
 to be animated, and without which economy, in the ordinary sense of the 
 word, is impracticable to the present and must be to any other administra- 
 tion. The abridgment as far as possible of expenditure, and the increase 
 of revenue by every mode of taxation, which political economy does not 
 utterly condemn, until there be a considerable excess of revenue, so as to 
 accelerate greatly the operation of the sinking fund, seem to be the expe- 
 dients which the crisis demauds. The difficulties of the country must be 
 met with resolution ; the state must be progressively disencumbered of 
 much of its present burden ; and, undeterred by the clamour about the 
 severity of taxation, the legislature most proceed to put the country in a 
 position as to its finances, which shall enable it, comparatively fresh and 
 unencumbered, to meet any difficulties from abroad, which, we trust, 
 may long be averted, but from which we cannot expect to be permanent- 
 ly exempted. Perhaps a revision of some part of the actual system of 
 taxation may be required j and the taxes, without diminishing their a- 
 niount, may be made to fall in a different direction, and be rendered less 
 discouraging to commerce and industry, and more effective in their opera- 
 tions upon those, whose large fortunes enable them to sustain the pres- 
 sure. But even the partial redemption of the debt f must be a progressive, 
 not an instantaneous operation, and the means of its liquidation must be 
 sought in the overflowings of income as they are periodically realized, 
 without venturing into the retired sources of property, which cannot, we 
 fear, be invaded in the manner proposed by Mr. Heathfield, without 
 shaking the entire fabric of society. 
 
 We may perhaps appear to have expressed ourselves in a more decided 
 tone throughout the preceding observations than was warranted, when 
 the unusual magnitude and unquestionable difficulty of the subject are 
 
12 
 
 considered. 11 is not, we can assure Mr. Heathlield and our readers, that 
 we were forgetful of these difficulties, or that we were insensible to the 
 risk of being betrayed perhaps into some deep and fundamental error, such 
 as may unhinge our whole speculation. But what we have sincerely felt, 
 we have decidedly expressed, not without some hope, however, that Mr. 
 Heathfield and bis ingenious friends may be able to obviate our difficul- 
 ties, and to prove that a consummation, which all must acknowledge to 
 be so desirable, is within the reach of practical attainment. 
 
 No. XIV. April, 1820, Art. VII. — Memoires pour servir a I'llis- 
 loire de la Vie Privee, du Retour, et du Regne de Napoleon en 
 1815. Par M. Fleury de Chaboulojt, Ex-Secretaire de I' Km- 
 pereur Napoleon et de son Cabinet, Maitre des Kequetes au Con- 
 seil d'Etat, Baron, Orficier de la Legion d'Honncur, Chevalier de 
 POrdre de la Reunion. 
 
 **** We must not yet farther lengthen an article already so much 
 extended, by following M. Fleury in his history of the negotiations for the 
 surrender of Paris; the discussions in the Chambers on that important 
 subject; or the actual capitulation, and the return of the King. He dis- 
 poses of the Marshals, once so formidable, in lhat sort of summary way in 
 which our acquaintances the characters of a novel are accounted for at 
 the end. The enumeration is curious. 
 
 " Marshal Ney was the first to give the alarm, and despair of the safety of his 
 country. Marshal Soult had abjured his command. Marshal Massena, exhausted 
 (use J by victory, had no longer the bodily strength required by circumstances. 
 Marshal Macdonald, deaf to the war-cry of his old companions, had left his sword 
 peacefully in its scabbard. Marshal Jourdan was on theRhine. (This we misprint- 
 ed in. J Marshal Mortier had the gout at Beaumont. Marshal Suehet had begun to 
 evince the origin of repugnance and irresolution. And, finally, Marshals Davoust 
 and Grouchy uo longer enjoyed the confidence of the army." 
 
 It was high time for Napoleon to get out of the way, when all the pillars 
 of his house were thus tumbling about him. Even had he prospered, who 
 can say that spirited aspirants, like Labedoyere, Z. and M. Fleury, would 
 not have been finding out that even he was becoming too old, like the 
 Trojans aforesaid ; and have set his pretensions aside, in favour of their 
 own, to the Imperial dignity ! Labedoyere did drop a hint that that wind- 
 fall should be the lot of the most worthy. Now, as among Messieurs La- 
 bedoyere, 2. and Fleury, there would, we take it, be precisely three opi- 
 nions as to the person to whom that praise belonged, legitimacy could only 
 have been satisfied by the establishment of a purple triumvirate !!! 
 
 But away with our mask, which, in violence to our best feeliugs, we 
 have worn, till Democritus himself would have cried "enough." We 
 cannot dismiss these would-be masters of mankind— these loudly-com- | 
 plaining victims of injustice, without a word, in our own character, to 
 them, and to the world escaped from their fangs. We long ago pledged 
 ourselves never to let pass an opportunity of exposing these men. We 
 scorn the littleness that would insult the disabled, or persecute the fallen. 
 We trust we have higher motives when we strike a warning note, even in 
 the calm stillness of confidence and peace. It were to remove the light- 
 house from the sunken rock, to forget these men because they are down. 
 They are yet enthroned in many a bosom in France — in continental Eu~ 
 rope — and, '« lwrrcsco rcferens," in England. It is enough that they 
 
 • 
 
 - 
 
 
13 
 
 warred against establishments ; degraded authorities ; trampled on all the 
 means of moral restraint, — to league the turbulent to their fortunes, and 
 ^constitute them idols and allies, wherever mobs are known, or revolutions 
 desired. Be it ever ours to disabuse our countrymen of the weak and 
 vulgar devotion which has too long been directed to them. We call it 
 vulgar, for we will ever hold, that stupid vulgarity was theirs, and theirs 
 alone, who could only gaze, with absorbed faculties, on the red path of 
 successful ruffianism — on the coarse glare of overpowering force and wide- 
 spread conquest — who had no eye to mark with manly steadiness, while 
 the tempest raged, the baseness, the shallowness of those, who, for the 
 moment, were permitted to direct its course. Shame to the men of un- 
 derstanding in a country of light and reason, and lofty feeling, who joined 
 the herd, in this ! Brute force has desolated for its hour, aud passed by. 
 Away with an unworthy homage to its memory ! Away to Spa-fields, where 
 4 it is the only " religion of the place," where revolution is more dearly- 
 loved than iiberty ; and let all who ever named liberty's high name in 
 even the semblance of sincerity, blush, if they ever lapsed into it, for the 
 measureless inconsistency. 
 
 Divested of their warlike means, so long believed resistless, look at these 
 heroes of the Revolution on their level, survey them as isolated indivi- 
 duals, reft of every fragment of the vast engine they lately wielded — a 
 million of men trained from their infancy to systematic unmeasured vio- 
 lence — to perfect scorn of human life, ami human right, and human feel- 
 ing — what of them remains ? Their day in its zenith alarmed and afflict- 
 d, but, we trust we can say, never dazzled us, never interfered with our 
 rooted contempt for these fortunate but really unsubstantial charlatans. 
 Nor did we for one moment despair of the cause of our country and of 
 humanity, except when we heard any oue who yet called himself a son of 
 Britain descending to speak of terms with these "men, and of surviving the 
 uimilialion. We have therefore reserved entire our title to scorn them 
 jven in their helplessness — misnamed their misfortunes — to loath the dregs 
 ind lees, as we put not to our lips the chalice when it mantled highest 
 ind intoxicated most — and, we repeat it, we will never lose the occasion. 
 Nothing can afford a more striking proof of the folly of these men, of 
 he short reach of their talents, and the poverty of their attainments, than 
 heir harbouring tke hope, now campaigns have ceased, that writing and 
 easoning, and theirs too, will still turn the current of honest sympathy in 
 heir favour ! So long as they could hold their debate surrounded by an 
 irmed million ; so long as they pretended to no argument more refined 
 han a thousand pieces of cannon, aud offered the ultima ratio regum a* 
 heir last, their first, their only reason ; they had neither confutation nor 
 •eply to fear. But unescorted, in their own strength and no more, to enter 
 he lists as writers, as historians, as memorialists, as reasoners ; to pretend 
 o touch with their coarse hands the exquisite instruments of reason and 
 ruth, to dream of defending by argument, that iniquity which was full, 
 ind which the besom of destruction hath swept away — is assuredly the 
 ■nost insane imagination wherewith they have yet been stricken. 
 
 The self-sufficient author before us, is a happily selected specimen for 
 our purpose. His unskilful work is an invaluable present to his adversa- 
 ries. He was covered, be it marked, with rewards and honours by his 
 chief. He was his confidential secretary — the man on whose talents, skill, 
 and fidelity, he most relied. If any one of the train might be presumed to 
 possess the accomplishments which alone ought to bear sway in an en- 
 lightened age — if any one was fitted to write and reason, to defend a cause 
 in intellectual warfare, it is this selected and distinguished individual. 
 His literary labours are before us; and we presume he hag done his best. 
 Yet we will venture to say, that, whether as a narrative of facts, a state- 
 ment of proofs, or a fabric of argument, it is as mean a production as has 
 
14 
 
 ever yet emanated from the half-educated, conceited, presuming incon- 
 sistent school of the French revolution. Exhibiting, on the one hand, 
 every species of bad taste, bold unsupported averment, rant, and insolence ; 
 its inconsistencies and contradictions are so puerile and so numerous, as to 
 create no other feeling than that of scorn for the hoodwinked shallowness 
 which did not see them, but mistook them for proofs and arguments. What 
 but utter destitution of understanding could persuade this writer, as he 
 floundered on from contradiction to contradiction, in a half-drunken 
 course of self-refutation, to flatter himself that he was either exalting the 
 character, or serving the cause of his exiled chief! Not that chief's most 
 implacable enemy could have hoped so much to degrade and expose him 
 as has been done by his confidential secretary. Yes, in this, ,M. Fleury 
 falls — if the thing be possible — to a lower level than all the Pillets and 
 the Gourgauds who have unwisely emerged from obscurity and contempt, 
 to demonstrate the perfect suitableness and justice of the worst that has 
 befallen them. It is worthy of remark, that M. Fleury, although he 
 pours out rant enough upon the topic of the victories of Napoleon, gives 
 his readers full warrant, by implication, to put this consideration out of 
 view, and even the eclat of his master's return to Paris, with the army on 
 his side, and the people wonderstruck and neutral. M. Fleury's chief 
 object is to narrate the private life of Napoleon during these striking 
 public events — the cabinet memoirs of his chief; and to draw from them 
 the inference of the purity of his character, and the justice of the cause he 
 pursued. The Ex-Secretary succeeds in one thing only, namely, in de- 
 monstrating that his master, and all whom he favoured and honoured, 
 gained their ends by the lowest duplicity, treachery, and perjury; and 
 were actuated by selfishness, vanity, and want of feeling, without one re- 
 deeming jot of either public or private virtue. Take only the scene at 
 Elba, for example, between Napoleon and that fantastic contemptible 
 creature Z., "with his broken sword and pretended patriotism. This, for 
 the credit of the Emperor, ought never to have been exposed. There is 
 not one part of it that does not sink him lower than he could possibly 
 have stood before in the estimation of his most inveterate reviler. Yet to 
 this precious document he gave his own imperial imprimatur *?. for the i 
 benefit of posterity !" It was indeed for their benefit ; and we trust the 
 lesson will never be forgotten ! If additional reason was wanted for chain- 
 ing that man to his rock for life, it is found in this unadvised expose by his 
 worshipper Fleury. Let any sincere friend to liberty or common honesty I 
 read that memoir, and still call Napoleon a truly great man ! It was in- j 
 deed to come forth with uncalled-for confessions — to make what culprits i 
 term a clean breast, and that for himself and all his accomplices. 
 
 We have often marvelled, and now marvel more than ever, what could | 
 have given these men the sway in human affairs, which they so long main- 
 tained. When we look back on the series of Europe's recent sufferings ; 
 and contrast the stupendous oppressions endured, with the ineffable base- 
 ness of the instruments — a baseness which such gossips as Z. and Fleury i i 
 have unconsciously given us new light to detect and appreciate — we are i 
 not more amazed by the lucky audacity of the oppressors, than humbled- , 
 by the ready and abject prostration of their victims. F'antastic, treach- , 
 erous, without steady lasting intrepidity, and only ferocious — humble in 
 the scale of intellect, and devoid of all grandeur of soul, the aspirants to 
 the mastery of the world appear, when the tinsel of their public exhibitions i 
 is removed, not only on a level with, but beneath the mediocrity of, those . 
 whom they dared to enslave. Never was the vulgar game of military ad- 
 venture and barbarian conquest so often pourtrayed in the scornful and . 
 indignant lessons of philosophy — fully exposed in all its vileness, till the . 
 jacobin gang became infected with the coarse and haughty imagination ; 
 and never was the contemptible interior of the exhibition discovered to 
 
15 
 
 the world, till the unsubstantial fabric fell, and the glittering puppets, un- 
 veiled in all their native littleness and fantastic imbecility, came forth to 
 ' unconscious confession and self-condemnation. Stretch but the mind to 
 the thought of the men of England's lofty virtue. Recall the Russells, the 
 Sydneys, the Hampdens, of our own revolutionary days; — the Chathams, 
 the Pitts, the Foxes, the Windhams, the Homers, who upheld, the <Jren- 
 villes, the Wilberforces, who uphold, the godlike fabric of the British 
 name ! Compare the utter worthlessness which we have just contemplat- 
 ed, with the general high tone of truth and honour in our own country ! 
 I Does any wonder remain that the genius of Britain has at length prevail- 
 ed, — prevailed, as she has always done, over the temporary continental 
 ascendancy of her really less powerful, because less worthy, rival. Never 
 has she appealed to her own undivided strength, never seriously buckled 
 on her armour, that she has not put down the baseless structure of fero 
 city and injustice, and reduced its degraded abettors to attribute their ex- 
 istence to her forbearance. 
 
 No. XVI. April, 1820, Art. Vl.Some Account of the Life, Death, 
 and Principles of Thomas Paine ; together with Remarks on his 
 Writings, and on their intimate Connection with the avowed Ob- 
 jects of the Revolutionists of 1793, and of the Radicals of 1819. 
 By John S. Harford, Esq. 
 
 It may appear strange to some of our readers, that we should assist in 
 dragging the memory of the profane and execrated being, whose name is 
 given above, from that deep oblivion into which they may suppose it has 
 long since been precipitated by a load of crime and infamy, such as hardly 
 lany other name has been fated to sustain. To disturb the ashes, even of 
 consummate but forgotten profligacy, would be base in point of motive, 
 and hazardous in point of example; for the utmost that society can de- 
 sire, in the case even of its mortal enemies, is, that all trace of their being 
 should be blotted out, and that a thick and impenetrable shade should for 
 ever close around their devoted sepulchres. The remembrance of unut- 
 terable but irremediable wrongs is not of safe or wholesome indulgence ; 
 for in those who are deeply sensitive to the injury done, it can lend only 
 to feed some emotion kindred to resentment, and embittered by regret ; 
 while, to those of a more placable temperament, the portrait, even of the 
 most revolting vice, may exhibit, perchance, some softer lineament, 
 pleading for forgiveness or invoking compassion. There is danger often 
 jin hazarding, before minds of a less stern and decided cast, the present- 
 j ment of enormous wickedness, if not in the full and frightful energy of its 
 evil operation ; for all human profligacy, even in the entireness of its or- 
 dinary consummations, is yet a mixed and composite exhibition; shading, 
 | but not obliterating, some ©f the better and nobler elements of our na- 
 |ture ; and while our perennial sympathy with these overcomes our waning 
 \ resentment against the villany which no longer lives in act, but only slum- 
 bers upon record, we are too apt to relax in that detestation of crime, 
 which, for the interests of virtue, ought ever to be intense and prevailing. 
 We admit it as a general rule, therefore, that the memory of those whose 
 principles have been so base, that they cannot even be scanned without 
 contaminating the intellect, or whose actions have been so atrocious that 
 they cannot be reviewed without lacerating the feelings, is best allowed 
 to repose in the dark cemetery of guilt and oblivion ; and that the in- 
 struction to be derived in such cases, from contemplating the headlong 
 career, and watching the appropriate fate of crime, is, even when the 
 
 
16 
 
 delinquency and punishment are commensurate in this lower world, dearly 
 purchased at the double expense of a defiled imagination and an agonized 
 heart. 
 
 ******** 
 
 The witty and ingenious writers, however, whom we have named above, 
 far as they are removed in the scale of talent from the great men to whom 
 they stand opposed in the moral purpose and tendency of their specula- 
 tions, have had a great and a calamitous influence upon society. The 
 shreds of their scornful unbelief and impious mockeries have fallen into 
 the hands of some of the vilest of the species, who, without their wit or 
 learning, have shared their temerity in abundance; and, as might have 
 been expected, have far outdone them in offensive insolence and brutal 
 coarseness. The lowest and most illiterate creature imagines that he can 
 laugh down the revereuce due to religion by a scrap of Voltaire's buf- 
 foonery, and emancipate himself from the bonds of morality upon the 
 strength of some rhapsody of Rousseau's. The taste for this sort of liber- 
 tine speculation has descended to the very bottom of society, and has 
 wrought a terrible change upon its entire constitution. The difficulty of 
 reclaiming the victim of such delusions, is in proportion to his ignorance 
 and stupidity ; for, without talent for comprehensive reasoning, he can- 
 not grasp the various bearings of the mighty question; and, without ex- 
 tensive reading, he is not aware that what he fondly embraces, as a preci- 
 ous novelty, is but a forgotten sophism, long since beaten to the ground, 
 and dug up by some venal impostor from the rubbish of vanquished infi- 
 delity. The consequence is deplorable, — the poisoned dart is stubbornly 
 retained by the collapsing vacuity of the understanding. We have all wit- 
 nessed the consequences of this frightful relaxation of moral and religious 
 principle throughout the population of a great and neighbouring country; 
 we have experienced of late the partial visitation of the calamity among 
 the hitherto untainted mass of our own people, and have been called upon 
 to study the aspect of its workings; and those who are the most indiffer- 
 ent to the progress of the evil in the abstract, must tremble when they 
 behold its effects. Of all the remedies for the contagion, none, perhaps, 
 could be more sure or effectual than a full unveiling, before the eyes of 
 the people, of its nauseous and polluted source; let them study well the 
 characters of the anarchists and atheists; let them decide whether they 
 are to take their new lessoos of purity and virtue from the stye of licenti- 
 ousness, and cowardice, and cruelty; and, in their meditations on the 
 morality and theology of radical reform, let them fasten their eye on the 
 image of Paine. It is not his bones, but his life, we want as a comment 
 on '« The Rights of Man," and " The Age of Reason." 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 This Review is published regularly on t/ie First of each Month, by 
 G. and W. B. Whittaker, Ave-Maria Lane, and Rodwell 
 and Martin, New Bond Street, London; and Wa ugh andlsNES, 
 Edinburgh; price 2s. 6d. each Number, containing at least seven 
 Sheets of Letter-press, and may be had of all the Booksellers in 
 town and country. 
 
 Weed and Rider, Printers, Little Britain , linden. 
 
ANTI-SCEPTICISM; 
 
 u 
 
 OR, 
 
 AN INQUIRY 
 
 INTO 
 
 THE NATURE AND PHILOSOPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 LANGUAGE, 
 
 AS CONNECTED WITH 
 
 %^t Sacrtfi £crtntttre$< 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE PHILOSOPHY OF ELOCUTION." 
 
 It is to be remembered that connexion is not identity. 
 
 Remarks on Scepticism, 
 
 OXFORD: 
 
 PRINTED FOR MUNDAY AND SLATTER; 
 AND G. & W. B. WHITTAKER, 13, AVE-MARIA-LANE, LONDON. 
 
 1821. 
 

 <§ 3# 
 
 V rinted by Munday and Slatter, Oxford 1 . 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 AMONG all the inquiries which are presented 
 to the student, there are few so well calculated to 
 call forth his energies as some of the elementary 
 questions respecting language. Those particu- 
 larly concerning articulate voices in contradis- 
 tinction to instinctive signs, the nature of the 
 substantive and the verb, the use of the various 
 parts of speech, universal grammar, and the di- 
 versity of tongues, — are topics which excite in 
 the mind of the intellectual student an especial 
 interest. 
 
 The Author has endeavoured to explain the 
 significations of the substantive and the verb by 
 the use of particular and general arguments, — ali 
 tending to assert the being and attributes of a 
 First Cause, and to oppose the popular doctrines 
 of atheistical and sceptical philosophy. 
 
 What he has advanced concerning the writings 
 of Locke, and his controversy with the Bishop of 
 Worcester, is offered with exceeding diffidence. 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 The arguments respecting the primitive language 
 are deduced entirely from the sacred writings, 
 and the greater part of the notes illustrative of 
 the text are sanctioned by the authorities of 
 D'Oyly and Mant. 
 
 As the writer of a recent work has affirmed, 
 that the verb is the primitive part of speech, and 
 that every sentence is a factitious word, it may 
 be here noticed, that a few hints on the same sub- 
 jects, but espousing contrary doetrines, will be 
 found in the following pages. The Author con- 
 ceives it hardly requisite to mention, that the 
 remarks on sceptical philosophy have no reference 
 whatever to the above writer. 
 
 
 / 
 
> OF THE 
 
 frjlitlVTSBSH 
 
 42221 
 
 )NTEN1 
 
 CHAP. L 
 
 Page 
 Notices in the Scriptures respecting certain facts, as per- 
 taining to the arts and sciences — their differences — the 
 ends which they are calculated to promote — object of 
 the following Treatise— to discourse on the Nature and 
 Philosophy of Language, as connected with the Sacred 
 Scriptures — author of the " Diversions of Purley" — the 
 noun — verb, and its " peculiar differential circumstance," 
 &c. — the philosophy of Home Tooke not favourable to 
 the inquiry respecting the verb — destruction of the MSS. 
 of Home Tooke, and the probable conclusion to be 
 drawn from the circumstance — the opinions of other 
 writers respecting the primitive part of speech — the ob- 
 ject of the present Treatise more fully stated, and the 
 plan for pursuing the inquiry laid down - 1 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Faculties and powers of the inferior animals — those of 
 mankind — the progressive state of man — the perceptive 
 faculty of an infant, and that of other animals — their 
 ends essentially different — instinct and intellect — in- 
 stinctive signs not analogous to language - 7 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Comparison between the perceptive faculty, as observable 
 in an infant or child, with the same faculty in the adult 
 — example drawn from a view of objects at sea — eluci- 
 dation of three elementary parts of speech — five parts 
 of speech elucidated by four balls — conceptions of 
 novelty as giving birth to the expression of ideas — their 
 differences — substantive the primitive part of speech — 
 correspondence of the argument with that of Locke and 
 the Bishop of Worcester respecting substance — trans- 
 positive ituom of language affording an additional argu- 
 
VI * CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 ment in favour of the hypothesis— the verb consequently 
 not the primitive — the theory embracing such a doctrine 
 proved to be false - - - - 13 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The nature of the verb — its being, action, &c. — time — pre- 
 liminary elucidations deduced from the action and re- 
 action of balls — metaphysical science recommended — 
 verb the life of language, but not the cause of the exist- 
 ence of the substantive — atheistical philosophy — an ex- 
 position of its absurdities recommended, as subsidiary to 
 the theory for unfolding the force and application of the 
 verb ------ 21 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Grotius — Locke — Bichat — Morgan — Lawrence — Rennell 
 — true philosophy — body — soul — leading faculties of 
 the soul — passions — Aristotle — Cicero — three distinct 
 faculties of the soul — the soul nevertheless undivided — 
 metaphysical writers — their inaccurate definitions of the 
 passions — lecturer of Trinity College, Dublin — Dr. 
 Hutcheson — no exciting reason previous to affection 
 and instinct — excitement to the faculty of judging de- 
 pendent on the will — Locke's definition of passion proved 
 to be incorrect — appetite — affection — passions — defini- 
 tions ----- . 24 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Locke's notion of matter and substance — controversy be- 
 tween Locke and the Bishop of Worcester — the infer- 
 ence of Locke shewn to be the highest 'probability and 
 opinion ; that of the Bishop of Worcester, the demon- 
 stration and certainty, that " the thinking thing in us is 
 immaterial" — argument of modern chemists confuted — 
 the commencement of the study of philosophy and true 
 theoretic science aided by the light of Revelation 37 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Opinion that if Home Tooke had pursued the same course 
 of reasoning as Locke had done, respecting fundamental 
 doctrines, he would then have been able to answer his 
 own query respecting the substantive and the verb — ap- 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Page 
 plication of the two preceding chapters to the question 
 of Home Tooke — none else than the first cause can 
 
 say I HAVE EXISTENCE IN OR WITH MY ESSENCE — 
 
 inference and exemplification of the nature of the arti- 
 ficial verb and definition — elucidation of five elementary 
 parts of speech and the use of the article and other re- 
 strictives — the use of supernumerary particles when rea- 
 soning on the simple proposition - 44 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Question, whether or not the English grammar should be 
 formed on the Latin plan — opinions of grammarians re- 
 specting the six cases — objections answered — the au- 
 thors of the Eton Latin Grammar have proceeded upon 
 the supposition that the Latin can be taught in connexion 
 with the English grammar — Latin neuter nouns, &c. — 
 elucidations of the English genitive — accentuation and 
 the union of the parts of speech which stand for the Eng- 
 lish of Latin nouns — Latin prepositions — tenses of the 
 verb - - - - - 56 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Sentences — the opinion that every sentence is a factitious 
 word controverted — Burke — the unity essential to a 
 thinking being is not requisite to the operations of a 
 thinking being — ellipsis of the verb " to be" — sentences 
 of childhood — opinion that the imperatives, go, hark, &c. 
 are virtual sentences — this opinion controverted — order 
 of words analogous to the operations of intellect — eluci- 
 dations — and conclusion of the argument - 75 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Question respecting the origin of language — was it invented 
 by man, or was it revealed to him by his Creator? — 
 atheistical philosophy — remarks of Johnson — Selkirk — 
 Juan Fernandez — the young man caught in the woods of 
 Hanover — in France — arguments drawn from these cir- 
 cumstances, and from Genesis, chap.l* — the knowledge 
 and use of any language to be improved by an acquaint- 
 ance with other languages — primitive language — the 
 Scriptures afford the safest arguments respecting the 
 transmission of it — writers on this subject not cor- 
 responding in their opinions — the claims of different na- 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PaOk 
 
 tions — Arabians — Syrians — Ethiopians — Armenians 
 and the Jews — etymology of names considered — the 
 name of Babel — and the names which are assigned by 
 Moses to eastern countries, &c. — proved by Mr. Maurice 
 to be the very names by which they were anciently 
 known over all the east - - 91 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 No notice in the sacred records respecting the primitive 
 tongue — arguments of various writers stated— proba- 
 bility that all the people of the earth journeyed and set- 
 tled in the plains of Shinar — division of the people of all 
 the earth — remark of Shuckford respecting the Baby- 
 lonian and Hebrew language — answered by a passage 
 in Jeremiah, &c. — alphabetic wilting — writings of Job — 
 language of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob - 99 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Causes of the fluctuation of language stated — language of 
 the Israelites neither spoken nor generally understood in 
 Egypt at the time of the famine — the marriages of Joseph 
 and Moses with Egyptian women — the friendship which 
 possibly subsisted between the Israelites and the Egyp- 
 tians until the death of Joseph — the mixed multitude 
 which departed from Egypt — the language in which the 
 written law was promulgated on Mount Sinai different 
 from the language of the original or former sons of 
 Eber — from the time of the captivity the Hebrew ceased 
 to be a living language - 108 
 
ANTI-SCEPTICISM ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 An INQUIRY into the NATURE and PHILOSOPHY of LAN- 
 GUAGE, as connected with the SACRED SCRIPTURES. 
 
 CHAP. I.— Sec. I. 
 
 Notices in the Scriptures respecting certain facts, as pertaining to the 
 arts and sciences — their differences — the ends which they are cal- 
 culated to promote — object of the following Treatise — to discourse on 
 the Nature and Philosophy of Language, as connected with the 
 Sacred Scriptures — author of the " Diversions of Purley" — the noun 
 — verb, and its " peculiar differential circumstance/' &c. — the philo- 
 sophy of Home Tooke not favourable to the inquiry respecting the 
 verb — destruction of the MSS. of Horne Tooke, and the probable 
 conclusion to be drawn from the circumstance — the opinions of other 
 writers respecting the primitive part of speech — the object of the 
 present Treatise more fully stated, and the plan for pursuing the 
 inquiry laid down. 
 
 ALL the circumstances and relations, which are inci- 
 dentally mentioned in the sacred records respecting 
 contemporary manners and the arts and sciences, are, 
 unquestionably, calculated to assist and strengthen the 
 intellectual energies of man. But the intimations and 
 relations which we find in those sacred stores are of a 
 two-fold nature. They are divisible into those which are 
 essential to the necessities and comforts of man in this 
 lower world, and into those which have reference more 
 particularly to his being and happiness in that which is to 
 come. The former may be viewed as so many relations 
 of facts, which were addressed immediately to the exter- 
 nal senses at the time those facts are recorded to have 
 taken place ; and this knowledge, the sound philosopher 
 believes could not, at so early a period of the creation, 
 
2 anti-scepticism; oh, 
 
 have been acquired by unassisted reason. Such, among 
 others, are the relations respecting language, husbandry, 
 the reduction of metals, and metallurgic science : while 
 the latter, viz. those intimations which concern the hap- 
 piness of man in a future state, were designed more pe- 
 culiarly to stimulate the nobler faculties of the mind, 
 and were further intended for reproof and for in- 
 struction ; such are the intimations in Genesis, Joshua, 
 Isaiah, &c. respecting the sun,* and the token of the 
 
 terms in which this event is recorded in the sacred writings, do not 
 ap;ree with what is now known concerning the motions of the heavenly 
 bodies ; for whereas it is recorded, that the sun and moon were made 
 to stop for a whole day, it is now sufficiently known that day and 
 night are not caused by any motion of the sun, but by the rotation 
 of the earth on its own axis. It should be remembered, however, 
 that as in those early ages men had not the slightest notion of the 
 modern discoveries in astronomy, it was unavoidably necessary that 
 the event should be described according to the knowledge then ob- 
 tained. If God had dictated to Joshua to record the miracle in terms 
 suitable to the modern discoveries in astronomy, Joshua would have 
 appeared to express it in a manner directly contrary to all the rules of 
 science then known i and his account of what had happened would 
 have been objected to as false in astronomy. It would have appeared 
 rather a wild fancy, or a gross blunder of his own, than a true account 
 of a real miracle ;. and so would have been received with little atten- 
 tion by the persons for whom it was written. Thus when God directed 
 Joshua to record this miracle, he did not direct him to record it in a 
 manner more agreeable to true astronomy ; because if Ire had done so, 
 unless he inspired the world at the same time with a true knowledge 
 of astronomy, the account would rather have tended to raise amongst 
 those who read it and heard of it, disputes and " oppositions of science 
 falsely so called," than have promoted the great ends of religion in- 
 tended by it. — Dr. Shuckford, D'Oyly and Mant's Bible. 
 
 It has been observed that the Hebrew word (tL'Dttf) does not signify 
 the sun, but the solar light; thus God might,, at the desire of Joshua, 
 have so increased the refractive power of the atmosphere, that the 
 light of the sun was observed long after the regular setting of that lu- 
 minary ; in other words, the solar light remained on the earth, or figu- 
 ratively " the sun stood still." God, by staying the departure of the 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 3 
 
 covenant of Almighty God after the flood, the rain- 
 bow;* recitals plainly conforming to the opinions and 
 notions of the patriarchal ages : and such, likewise, are 
 all the exact and perfect declarations respecting true 
 philosophy and metaphysical science ; exhibiting to our 
 minds the present weakness of our capacities, and offer- 
 ing to us constant lessons of humility ; exciting in us 
 feelings of industry to improve our knowledge and en- 
 large our faculties, and finally, tending to fortify our minds 
 against the violation of scepticism on the one hand, and 
 spiritual pride on the other. Abstractedly considered, 
 such, doubtless, is the two-fold meaning of all the scien- 
 tific circumstances and intimations, illustrative of the 
 opinions of the times, which are to be met with in Scrip- 
 ture ; and which, to the highest degree, are interesting 
 to students of every branch of sound, unsophisticated 
 philosophy. Considered in a religious point of view, 
 those relations are intimately connected with the internal 
 evidences of the Bible. 
 
 The object of the following Treatise is to discourse on 
 one branch of science ; the Nature and Philosophy of 
 Language, as connected with the Sacred Scriptures. 
 During the inquiry, it shall be my endeavour to show, 
 in opposition to sceptical philosophy, that the substan- 
 tive, and not the verb, is the primitive part of speech; 
 
 sun's light, exposed to fhe HHircws the Philistines' folly in attributing 
 omnipotence to a body which eoold be arrested at the pleasure of a 
 •uperior power.— Encyd<>i>ntlln MtlroyuUtana. 
 
 * It is not at all necessary to inquire whether there was or -waa not 
 any rainbow before the flood. Upon cither supposition the Divine 
 "Wisdom is very apparent, in appointing the nunbow lor a token of his 
 eayesant and ;■ memorial ot his promise, thai u often si mea should 
 see it, they might remember, that God had given them such a promise, 
 and mat his infallible word should be their sufficient security.— Dr. 
 Watkrlasd, WOyUj and Mant's Bible. 
 
 b2 
 
4< anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 and, consequently, that it is that into which every one of 
 the rest is more easily to be resolved : " And Adam gave 
 names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to 
 every beast of the field." 
 
 In my attempt to unfold the office and character of 
 the verb, I shall endeavour to expose some of the prin- 
 ciples and doctrines of Materialism, Atheistical and 
 Sceptical Philosophy, and to offer one or two remarks 
 on the nature of the passions. To this I shall add a few 
 suggestions respecting grammar ; a few hints concerning 
 the formation of sentences, as connected with the state 
 and progress of thought; and, finally, in conjunction 
 with arguments deduced from the sacred authority of 
 Scripture, an inquiry relating to the primitive language, 
 the changes and diversity of tongues.. 
 
 CHAP; I.— Sec II. 
 
 It is singular, that the author of the " Diversions of 
 Purley," should have traced every part of speech to its 
 original source, and in the structure of language marked 
 the precise boundaries of each, and yet that he should 
 have affirmed the verb to be something more than the 
 noun : so that while he separated the rest of the parts of 
 speech from their root, he suffered the verb to remain in 
 quiet possession of the "peculiar differential circum- 
 stance" which he conceived it to inherit over and above 
 the noun, the primitive part of speech or root. Prepa- 
 ratory to his Philological Diversions, had Home Tooke 
 permitted himself to investigate the natural progress of 
 his own thoughts, had he derived his philosophy from 
 its true and genuine source, had his mind been engaged 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 5 
 
 ki subjects connected with himself, his fellow beings, and 
 his God, the true, the only philosophical root and cause 
 of all things, — had this been the order of the study of 
 Home Tooke, no man whose philosophy and metaphy- 
 sics are sound, will deny that there would have been 
 a greater probability of the philologist's success in as- 
 signing to the verb what he termed " its peculiar differ- 
 ential circumstance :" he would probably have been en- 
 abled to assign to the verb its proper station in common 
 with the rest of the parts of speech, and thus have sepa- 
 rated it from its root. 
 
 It appears, however, clear, that the philosophy of 
 Home Tooke was not so humiliating to his species as 
 that of some of his contemporaries, and others who have 
 survived him. But in point of talent, it is almost a pro- 
 fanation of every sort of justice to compare this indi- 
 vidual with any of those persons who held the same doc- 
 trines in common with himself. While, therefore, it is 
 to be acknowledged, that the author of the Diversions 
 of Purley, was avowedly a friend to all the wild and de- 
 structive schemes of liberty which have since continued 
 to poison and infest the minds of the ignorant, the 
 wretched, and the depraved, still I contend, that the 
 principles of Home Tooke were not so degrading to 
 human nature as those of certain of his contemporaries. 
 Whatever may have been his notions of Revealed Reli- 
 gion, and however he may have promulgated them 
 amongst the circle of his acquaintance, — as far as the 
 individual circumstance extends of his not having in 
 writing transmitted heretical opinions, thus far, I say, 
 his reputation is not " damned to everlasting fame." In 
 attributing to the noun the right of being called the pri- 
 mitive part of speech, he necessarily acknowledged the 
 
6 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 declaration of the sacred writings on this point to be 
 correct. I am not qualified to affirm, that he was 
 pleased at this coincidence, or as some have supposed* 
 that he was led to, and was strengthened in the opinion 
 from a consideration of the controversy between the 
 Bishop of Worcester and Locke, respecting innate ideas! 
 For my own poor part, I cannot see what connexion 
 subsists between the doctrines respecting innate ideas, 
 and the question concerning the primitive part of speech. 
 Home Tooke was of opinion, that the noun was the pri- 
 mitive root of all the other parts of speech : and this 
 opinion is undoubtedly supported by the authority of the 
 well-known passage in the 1.& chapter of Genesis : — 
 H And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of 
 the air, and to every beast of the field." But independ- 
 ently of this coincidence, as proving that the judgment 
 of Home Tooke was hardly so degraded as that of his 
 party, we have tolerably good grounds for hoping, that 
 feelings of conviction struck the mind of this philosopher 
 during the latter period of his life : when he was led to 
 burn his manuscript writings, and communicate to his 
 friend, that " he was preparing for a long journey."* 
 
 * About a fortnight before the death of Home Tooke, Mr. Whitwell, 
 the architect, informed me of his friend's calling upon the author of "Eirta 
 llrtpofvra, when he found him busily employed in burning his manu- 
 script writings. These writings were of such number and magnitude 
 as to occupy the whole of the moniing before they were consumed. 
 Having been asked what he was about, — after a pause of some time, 
 Home Tooke replied — " I am preparing for a long journey." " This 
 was accompanied with a manner so deeply impressive, that I shall 
 never forget it," said the friend of Mr. Whitwell : he stated, that seve- 
 ral times during his stay he was obliged to retreat from the fire-place, 
 in consequence of the heat which the blaze of the papers occasioned, 
 and that the eye of Home Tooke was alternately riveted on them and 
 him, anxiously waiting the destruction of the writings, and seemingly 
 fearful lest his friend should secrete any of them. It is supposed, that 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 7 
 
 But if it be considered strange for Home Tooke to 
 have affirmed, that verbs, as well as the other parts of 
 speech, are nouns, and that a verb is something more 
 than a noun ; and that the title of verb was given to it 
 on account of that distinguishing something more than 
 mere nouns convey, — it seems, to me, at least, equally 
 strange that writers, who cannot be suspected for one 
 moment of being sceptical in their opinions, should have 
 broached theories in order to prove, that the verb, and 
 not the noun, is the primitive or root of all the other 
 parts of speech. It is perfectly unnecessary to enumerate 
 the names of these writers, or to enter minutely into their 
 arguments merely for tbfe sake of confuting them. One 
 of the objects of this Treatise will be secured, by stating 
 my own reasons for believing, that the noun, and not the 
 Verb, is the original or primitive root, whence every 
 other part of speech is derived. 
 
 For this purpose, and to form an adequate notion of 
 language, and its rise and progress to the grammatical 
 structure of a sentence, it seems requisite to contemplate 
 the nature of man in particular situations ; first in his 
 infancy, and secondly in some selected instance of his 
 state in riper years. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Faculties and powers of the inferior animals — those of mankind — the 
 progressive state of man — the perceptive faculty of an infant, and 
 that of other animals — their ends essentially different — instinct and 
 intellect — instinctive signs not analogous to language. 
 
 J. HE finger of nature operates on the senses of infants, 
 in common with all animal bodies, by painful or plea- 
 
 an unpublished volume of "Eirta Tinpoivra, or " Diversions of Purley," 
 perished in the flames. 
 
8 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 surable sensations : and every animal capable of ex- 
 pressing sound, makes known the degree of his sensation 
 by appropriate signs of consonance or dissonance. But 
 the Creator has limited the faculties and powers of the in- 
 ferior animals : he has attached to them peculiar instincts, 
 by which they are enabled to execute, with exactness 
 and precision, every work allotted to their natures ; and 
 a very short period perfects the end of their existence. 
 The state of man is far different; destined for nobler 
 purposes, his form and habits are progressive. Many of 
 the instinctive powers common to other animals, are de- 
 signedly withheld from him, and the free exercise of 
 those which are intellectual is substituted in their stead. 
 A larger portion of time is, therefore, requisite for the 
 developement of the faculties of man. On his entrance 
 into the world, he is more helpless than other animals : 
 and tears and cries demonstrate both the imbecility of 
 his nature, and the acuteness of his animal feeling. His 
 first sensation is that of pain : but no sooner is he re- 
 lieved, than he sinks almost into a state of apathy. At 
 this period his being may be called mere animal life : his 
 intellectual existence is but in embryo. Thus almost 
 insensible, and altogether helpless, does he recline, till 
 disease, corporal pain, or the sensations of hunger, again 
 call him to action ; when the fond caresses of a watchful 
 parent yield to him nurture and support. If pain be the 
 first sensation of an infant, it is equally true, that the in- 
 cessant care of a mother will soon create in it even an- 
 other feeling. While the child is hanging at her breast, 
 ask the mother what her feelings are, what the sensations 
 of her babe : — she will tell you they are those of pleasure 
 and delight. The sympathetic glow of nature reverbe- 
 rates from each content and pleasure: and while the 
 
AN INOUIRY, &C. 9 
 
 infant sinks to slumber and repose, tlie mother breathes 
 her joy, and sings forth hymns of praise. 
 
 The remarks of Bishop Butler conduce much to the 
 purpose of this discussion, and are deeply philosophical. 
 "Nature," says this learned prelate, "does in no wise 
 qualify us wholly, much less at once, for a mature state 
 of life. Even maturity of understanding and bodily 
 strength, are not only arrived to gradually, but are also 
 very much owing to the continued exercise of our 
 powers of body and mind from infancy. But if we sup- 
 pose a person brought into the world with both these in 
 maturity, as far as this is conceivable, he would plainly 
 at first be as unqualified for the human life of mature 
 age as an ideot. He would be in a manner distracted 
 with astonishment, and apprehension, and curiosity, and 
 suspense; nor can one guess how long it would be before 
 he would be familiarised to himself and the objects about 
 him enough, even to set himself to any thing. It may be 
 questioned too, whether the natural information of his 
 sight and hearing, would be of any manner of use at all 
 to him in acting, before experience. And it seems, that 
 men would be strangely headstrong and self-willed, and 
 disposed to exert themselves with an impetuosity, which 
 would render society insupportable, and the living in it 
 unpracticable, were it not for some acquired moderation 
 and self-government, some aptitude and readiness in re- 
 straining themselves, and concealing their sense of things. 
 Want of every thing of this kind which is learnt, would 
 render a man as uncapable of society, as want of lan- 
 guage would : or as his natural ignorance of any of the 
 particular employments of life, would render him unca- 
 pable of providing himself with the common conveni- 
 ences, or supplying the necessary wants of it. In these 
 
10 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 respects, and probably in many more, of which we have 
 no particular notion, mankind is left by nature an un- 
 formed, unfinished creature; utterly deficient and un- 
 qualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, experi- 
 ence, and habits, for that mature state of life which was 
 the end of his creation, considering him as only related 
 to this world."* 
 
 It is very certain that according to the accounts of 
 nurses, and those concerned in the management of 
 children, an infant does not, as it is termed, " begin to 
 take notice," until after the age of four or five weeks ; 
 and the first objects which he perceives are his own hands. 
 From that period, provided the infant continue in health, 
 the mental faculties of perceiving, thinking, reasoning, 
 knowing, and every other faculty connected with the 
 powers of reflexion, are uniformly progressive. The first 
 of these faculties, viz. perception, upon which the other 
 faculties depend, seems, therefore, to remain for a consi- 
 derable time in a state of quiescence. This is an inte- 
 resting circumstance, and appears to be, in some degree, 
 connected with the philosophy of speech. The senses 
 are the great originals of all our simple ideas of external 
 objects; and by these the faculties of reflexion are in- 
 fluenced and exerted. By what means body and soul 
 are united, and how, through the medium of the outward 
 organs of sense, the mind receives its impressions, are 
 questions too delicate and abstruse to be comprehended 
 and answered by man. His nature, however prominent 
 in ability, feels itself incompetent to the task; it hesitates, 
 and presently shrinks beneath the inquiry: « better to 
 bless the sun than reason how it shines, "f The material 
 
 * Bishop Butler's Analogy, part 1, chap, 5, sec. 3. f FonL 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 11 
 
 and immaterial parts of man, however, are admirably 
 fitted to act occasionally in unison; and in various situa- 
 tions of his being, they are so constructed as to be very 
 much influenced by each other. These are truths self- 
 evident in nature, and they give to science and philoso- 
 phy an antecedent proposition, by which one may be 
 enabled to reason on the probable cause of the quiescent 
 state of the mind of an infant; and from which the sound 
 philologist may be enabled to draw a reasonable hypo- 
 thesis concerning the original part of speech, and the 
 philosophy of language. At this early period of their 
 being, the difference between the state of man and that 
 of the inferior creature, is very striking. The percep- 
 tive faculty of our species does not manifest itself near 
 so soon as the perceptive faculty of other animals ; but 
 the developement of this one faculty in the infant, evinces 
 to my mind, the boundaries of instinct, and reveals thejtrst 
 daizn of intellect and reason. The immediate and peculiar 
 cares of the dam for her offspring are very soon dis- 
 missed, and are at an end. The young is soon enabled to 
 protect and help himself; he feels no actual want, but that 
 which is absolutely requisite for the duration or con- 
 tinuance of himself and species. It is true he sees sur- 
 rounding objects and is pleased ; he plays and frisks 
 before them : but these are altogether distinct from his 
 necessities ; they are not in any degree essential to his 
 real happiness. Take away the object of his play and 
 gambol, is he irreconcilable ? No: — however suddenly 
 removed, he neither laments, bemoans, nor does he be- 
 tray the least uneasiness of sensation. The perceptive 
 faculty of the infant leads to a very different end : after 
 a certain period, he begins to notice certain casual ob- 
 jects ; — at their approach he feels delight ; he soon se- 
 
12 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 lects a favourite one ; he calls, Mamma ! and points, and 
 signifies by signs his wish to have it. Its removal cre- 
 ates uneasy feeling : he cries. 
 
 The developement of this faculty seems, to me, to be 
 the very beginning of intellect and language. The 
 casual object, which is here described as being presented 
 to the eyes of the child, and exciting in him pleasurable 
 feelings, was not (as the term "casual" implies) antici- 
 pated by any uneasiness of sensation, it was actually 
 present, as it were, by accident, it instantly gave the 
 pleasure, and its removal instantly caused a sensation of 
 pain and the expression of it. As, therefore, the na- 
 tures of the inferior animals are stationary, and the 
 faculties of man progressive, it follows, that the signs of 
 sensation in the one will be soon fixed and determined : 
 and the instinctive voices and gestures of man will be 
 modified by the progress which he makes in the right 
 use of his reason and intellect. Thus the various bleat- 
 ing of the sheep is as conversably familiar to his kind, 
 as the pur or the mew is to the species of the domestic 
 cat ; and these are fixed and unalterable in their quali- 
 ties. But the laughing and crying of man, both as to 
 their meaning and expression, undergo distinct modifi- 
 cations. At first, as in the infant, they are symbols of 
 sympathy and social affection. In his early stages, the 
 uneasy sensations of hunger or bodily pain, may excite 
 the softer expression of weeping; but no sooner has he 
 grown in years, than similar causes, even to torture, 
 pain, and death, cease to draw a tear; and thus sighs 
 and groans suppressed, indicate the triumph of spirit 
 over matter. 
 
 In forming the conclusion, that the developement of 
 the faculty of perception in a child, is the very beginning 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. IS 
 
 of intellect and language, it seems requisite to bear in 
 mind how far, in their, early stages of being, the state 
 of the human species and that of the brute creation are 
 analogous: and also to recollect, that instinctive signs 
 bear no resemblance whatever to language : for the signs 
 of language or parts of speech are conventional: they are 
 agreed upon by the mutual and respective compact of 
 individual nations throughout the world: the signs of 
 instinct are not conventional, they are not agreed upon 
 by compact, but are fixed and determined throughout 
 the whole of every species according to the particular 
 and uncontrollable laws of nature : and are supposed to 
 have been so ever since the beginning of the creation. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Comparison between the perceptive faculty, as observable in an infant 
 or child, with the same faculty in the adult — example drawn from a 
 view of objects at sea — elucidation of three elementary parte- of 
 speech — five parts of speech elucidated by four balls — conceptions of 
 novelty as giving birth to the expression of ideas — their differences — 
 substantive the primitive part of speech — correspondence of the ar- 
 gument with that of Locke and the Bishop of Worcester respecting 
 substance — transpositive idiom of language affording an additional 
 argument in favour of the hypothesis — the verb consequently not the 
 primitive — the theory embracing such a doctrine proved to be false. 
 
 J.T is perfectly consistent with just reasoning to com- 
 pare the first operation of the perceptive faculty of a 
 child, recognizing indistinctly the few or many objects 
 around him, with the operation of the same faculty in a 
 man, viewing indistinctly a few or many objects at a dis- 
 tance. The results arising from every man's own indi- 
 vidual experience will convince him, that his notions 
 .concerning objects which appear foreign to his senses, 
 will be either restrained or enlarged in proportion to 
 
14 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 their proximity or remoteness. This is peculiarly evi- 
 denced at sea by sailors on their first notice of an island, 
 and their gradual approaches towards it. Or, perhaps, 
 the analogy now proposed will appear stronger, were we 
 to imagine a fleet or sail of ships, closely moving toge- 
 ther, to be just observable to the naked eye of an indivi- 
 dual on a desart island. The whole might seem as 
 one only : — one object. Now let me put the question : 
 At the instant of their observing the fleet or sail of ships, 
 what would be the idea passing in the minds of the be- 
 holders, who are supposed to be ignorant as to the real 
 state or quality of the object. What would be the 
 thought or character imprinted on the mind of an indi- 
 vidual person so situated ? We are not long in deter- 
 mining that the meaning which we attach to the part of 
 speech, object, or thing, would be fitly correspondent to 
 the meaning of that outward sign, expression, or part of 
 speech, which such an individual would use to commu- 
 nicate the purport of his conception of the fleet. We 
 will next imagine this fleet, designated by the sign, ob- 
 ject, or thing, to have approached sufficiently near to be 
 discovered by the naked eye, as consisting of a number 
 of separate objects or things ; till at length they appear 
 of different dimensions. The question again returns : — 
 What would be the ideas passing in the mind of the be- 
 holder, and the outward signs of communication which 
 he would use to correspond with his increased ideas? 
 Would not the meaning of the signs correspond with 
 the meaning which we attach to the qualities; Or adjec- 
 tives, or parts of speech, large and small ? The affirma- 
 tive being granted, we suppose him to join the signs 
 large and small, to the former sign object, making toge- 
 ther object large or large object — object small or small ob- 
 
AN* INOUIRY, &C. 15 
 
 ject. Of these interchanges it may be just remarked, 
 that they evidently point out a difference of meaning. 
 In the one instance, viz. object large, an affirmation is 
 made respecting the thing or object ; in the other, viz. 
 large object, (according to the English idiom) an affirma- 
 tion is not made : large object is a mere name, a mark or 
 sign of an idea, and nothing else. This I shall endea- 
 vour to explain in its proper place. But suppose the 
 person to have discovered the moving of the object, 
 (presupposing that he was before conscious of the state 
 of not moving, but which, perhaps, is not very good 
 reasoning), before he noticed it to have consisted of a 
 number of separate objects : the current idea in his mind, 
 in this (supposed) case, would entirely correspond with 
 the meaning which we affix to the word moving. Object 
 moving or moving object. The same remarks respecting 
 the interchanges are applicable as before; viz. that in 
 the one instance an affirmation is made, in the other 
 that an affirmation is not made : and that all these signs* 
 large, small, and moving, are signs of " qualities, modes 9 
 or accidents :" but the last sign or part of speech exhi- 
 bits a relation very different from that of large or small. 
 These are attributes of the object or thing; moving is 
 not : it is an instance of the same object or thing with 
 all its attributes in the state of moving. But we will sup- 
 pose the vessels to have now arrived, and the beholders 
 to be viewing with wonder and astonishment the stu- 
 pendous machinery — the variety of stores; — to be ob- 
 serving the qualities, size, make, shape, colour, teint, and 
 shade of the things. No sooner have their wonder and 
 their admiration subsided, than they begin to mark the 
 fitness of each to some particular end ; and, in order that 
 they may reason upon their various properties and uses, 
 
16 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 without the labour and inconvenience of resorting to 
 violent gesticulation, they adopt oral distinctions. Ap- 
 propriate signs are very soon invented to correspond 
 with the various qualities, and these are added as before 
 to the term thing already fixed upon : the latter of 
 which, in the course of time, becomes obsolete, and the 
 former is agreed upon by mutual compact to be the sign, 
 type, or name, of the particular object or thing. — " To 
 assign names to surrounding objects," says Dr. Crombie, 
 " would be the first care of barbarous nations; their 
 next essay would be to express their most common 
 actions or states of being. This, indeed, is the order of 
 nature — the progress of intellect." * 
 
 Two balls, of equal size and colour, placed upon a 
 table, will serve for further elucidation. Two adjectives, 
 small and red, explain the size and colour of the balls : 
 and, as far as both adjectives are concerned, what is true 
 of the one is true of the other. But one of the balls is 
 seen to move, while the other remains stationary : here, 
 then, is a new relation. The ball moving or the moving 
 ball : and the ball remaining or resting, or the remaining 
 or resting ball. The moving ball is seen to strike the 
 resting ball : here we have another relation, or passive 
 state of the thing or object : a third ball is now intro- 
 duced, which is observed to move swifter than the other 
 moving ball: and now another relation is discovered: 
 the manner of the moving. Let it now be supposed that 
 the three balls are stationary. I take one of them, and, 
 placing it closely to one of the remaining, set it in mo- 
 tion towards the other. The spectator observes another 
 relation, viz. moving to one, and moving from the other ; 
 
 * Dr. Crorabie's Treatise on the Etymology and Syntax of the English 
 Language. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 17 
 
 so that to and from are middle terms, appearing to be- 
 long to one ball as much as to the other; yet we can 
 distinctly trace an adjective meaning in both; viz. the 
 fo-moving-ball and the /row-moving-ball. Let it again 
 be supposed, that the balls are at rest, and that a fourth 
 ball is introduced moving. We now observe the relation 
 of time ; the _pr£S*w£-moving-ball, and the past-moving- 
 ball : and here might be developed the various relations 
 of the tenses of a verb. 
 
 Novelty is the most natural feeling of the mind ; and 
 the faculty by which we discover the objects of novelty 
 is called judgment. The business of the judgment is that 
 of discovering differences. In the very threshold of the 
 philosophy of language, this faculty, though in a state of 
 infancy, exerts its influence : the conceptions of novelty 
 give birth to the expression of ideas, to the various mo- 
 difications of them, and to all the signs and characteristic 
 marks of the qualities of their differences, whether they 
 be the mode and manner of their being, acting, or suf- 
 fering. 
 
 It is now easy to conceive, that the substantive must 
 have been the original part of speech, and that, accord- 
 ing to the nature and proportion of differences in sub- 
 stantives, soon were invented the adjective, the verb, and 
 the adverb : the thing or object being the substantive, 
 and the " mode, accident, or quality," the adjective, 
 verb, or adverb. And this corresponds exactly with 
 Locke's notion of substance, and agrees entirely with 
 the conceptions of the Bishop of Worcester, who op- 
 posed some of the passages in " The Essay of Human 
 Understanding," in his discourse in vindication of the 
 Trinity : where he says " we find we can have no true 
 conception of any mode or accidents, but we must con- 
 
18 anti-scepticism; ok, 
 
 ceive a substratum or subject wherein they are : 
 since it is a repugnancy to our conceptions of things, 
 that modes or accidents should subsist by themselves." * 
 
 As, therefore, the differences in the appearances of 
 things or objects, in the infancy of language, were de- 
 signated by the new sign signifying quality, so arose the 
 adjective: and further, as the differences in the qualities 
 of things or objects, at the next step towards the im- 
 provement of language, were distinguished by another 
 new sign, signifying being, acting, or suffering, so arose 
 the verb : and what the adjective is to the substantive^ 
 so the adverb is to the verb : the adjective defines the 
 quality of the substantive, the adverb defines the quality of 
 the verb — that is to say, the state of the substantive. 
 
 If we consider the nature of the transpositive idiom, 
 the order of words as they occur in the construction of 
 sentences in the Greek and Latin tongues, the present 
 hypothesis will be furnished with an additional argu- 
 ment in its favour. The nature of language will be then 
 further unfolded to our view: the consideration will r 
 moreover, present to us one of the principal causes which 
 have influenced the alteration of language during the pro- 
 gress of man's civilization. But we must traverse back, 
 as before, to the most uncultivated period of society ; 
 and a short extract from the writings of Dr. Blair will 
 not only answer our purpose, but also serve for general 
 corroboration.. 
 
 " Let us figure to ourselves a savage, beholding some 
 object, such as fruit, which he earnestly desires, and 
 requests another to give him. Suppose him unacquainted 
 with words: he would then strive to make himself un- 
 
 *• Bishop of Worcester,, quoted in Locke '3 first Letter, page 11. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 19 
 
 derstood by pointing eagerly at the object which he de- 
 sired, and uttering at the same time a passionate cry. 
 Supposing him to have acquired words, the first word 
 which he uttered would, consequently, be the name of 
 that object. He would not express himself according 
 to our order of construction, 'Give me fruit,' but ac- 
 cording to the Latin order, c Fruit give me,' — c Fructum 
 da mild :' for this evident reason, that his attention was 
 wholly directed towards fruit, the object of his desire. 
 From hence," says Dr. Blair, " we might conclude, a 
 pi'iori, that this would be the order in which words were 
 most commonly arranged in the infancy of language; 
 and accordingly we find, in reality, that in this order 
 words are arranged in most of the ancient tongues, as in 
 the Greek and the Latin ; and it is said likewise, in the 
 Russian, the Sclavonic, and Gaelic, and several of the 
 American tongues." * 
 
 If the arguments which I have adopted are just, then 
 it undeniably follows, that the noun or adjective is the 
 original or fundamental part of speech; and that the 
 theory which embraces a principle to shew that the verb 
 is the original part of speech, must be false ; not only 
 because it sets forward upon the supposition that man, 
 grown in intellect, contemplates the nature of his neces-; 
 sities, and so discovers, or endeavours to select such ob- 
 jects as shall be likely to alleviate and satisfy them ; but 
 because the supposition implies in itself an evident con- 
 tradiction. The promulger of such a theory supposes that 
 the ivant or desire of an individual is really the action of 
 the verb in artificial language. But if this mode of reason- 
 ing were accurate, the mere want or desire would not con- 
 
 * Dr. Blair's Lectures. 
 c2 
 
20 an ti -scepticism; or, 
 
 stitute a part of speech or word J nor a part of thought ! 
 Animal wants are occasioned by certain involuntary sen- 
 sations ; and are wholly acts of instinct : words are volun- 
 tary articulations; the primary object of which is in- 
 tellectual communication. A man, who was born dumb, 
 and who has since been taught to articulate, is actuated 
 by feelings of want and desire ; the inferior creatures are 
 influenced by wants and desires in common with men ; 
 and the inferior creatures are emphatically called dumb 
 animals. But, let it be asked, who has ever accused the 
 dumb man, or the inferior creature, of uttering a part of 
 speech ? Such a theorist asserts, also, that in naming a 
 person, we can have no idea of him but in a state of 
 being, acting, or suffering ; therefore, he infers that the 
 verb was antecedent to the substantive. Let it be re- 
 torted : what idea can I or any man have of the state of 
 the being, acting, or suffering of any thing independently 
 of something ? None : because " we can have no true 
 conception of any mode or accidents, but we must con- 
 ceive a SUBSTRATUM Or SUBJECT WHEREIN THEY ARE."* 
 
 To assert, therefore, that the verb is the original part of 
 speech, i. e. that the verb is antecedent to the substantive, 
 implies a contradiction. It is implying that a thing is 
 before it is ,• which is a manifest absurdity : " Nam quod 
 non est agere non potest ; nee ipsa res esse potuit, ante* 
 quam esset"f 
 
 * Bishop of Worcester and Locke. t Crotius. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 21 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The nature of the verb — its being, action, &c. — time— preliminary elu 
 cidations deduced from the action and re-action of balls— metaphy- 
 sical science recommended — verb the life of language, but not the 
 cause of the existence of the substantive— atheistical philosophy — an 
 exposition of its absurdities recommended, as subsidiary to the theory 
 for unfolding the force and application of the verb. 
 
 JLiET us next endeavour to unravel more fully the na- 
 ture of the verb. The moving ball. Moving is evidently 
 of the nature of an adjective ; but it is of a nature different 
 from the adjectives red and hard. The red, hard ball. 
 The 7H0w'7Z£-red-hard-ball. Red and hard indicate two 
 of the qualities of the ball ; but moving points out the 
 quality of its state. Let two of these balls be placed 
 upon the table. Let one of them be gently struck; the 
 relations before explained will be recognized. One is 
 the moving ball, the other is the remaining or resting 
 ball. Suppose the moving ball to be now destroyed.; 
 we perceive all its relations, which have been named, 
 to be likewise destroyed. The mind, however, reflects 
 upon its experience; and the memory dwells upon the 
 state of the remaining ball, object, or thing. The 
 mind remembers the expedient of adopting the op- 
 posite term, moving, to that of resting. But the mind 
 perceives, that, in this instance, it can discover no oppo- 
 site term to that of remaining or resting j it wants the 
 substratum by which every mode or accident is said to be 
 or exist s^nnd something can have no relation to nothing. 
 The nomen, or name, moving ball, however, is stored up 
 in the memory. We now strike the remaining ball; 
 and discover the quality or state of moving in this to he 
 the same as that of the ball which is destroyed: we, 
 therefore, reasonably conclude, that what is true of this 
 
22 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 was also true of the other. The difference between this 
 and the name, moving ball, is now more apparent. The 
 one is nomen substantivum, and the other simply nomeiu 
 Suppose the ball suhstans, or remaining, to be at rest : 
 we now introduce another ball, moving ; this is perceived 
 to strike the other. One is called the moving, the other 
 the moved ball; but, in fact, each is both moved and 
 moving; for motion has been given, and is still con- 
 tinued, to both. — Before, therefore, we can arrive at any 
 tolerable notion of the action of a verb, we feel the neces- 
 sity of ascending a few steps higher than mere dead 
 matter will carry us. Our reflexions must be concen- 
 trated and exercised upon and about ourselves, our 
 being, and existence. In performing this operation of 
 the mind, we must be careful not to confound and blend 
 appetite, passion, and intellect with language. Words 
 and language are the vocal and articulated signs and 
 transcriptions of our thoughts and ideas, by which we 
 are enabled to communicate those thoughts and ideas to 
 others. This is the true meaning and use of language 
 or speech; than which there is no other meaning nor 
 signification to be attached to the word. The verb may 
 be called the life of language ; but the life of language 
 must not be confounded with the materials, the mechan- 
 ism, or the progress of language, any more than the 
 intellectual life of man must be confounded with the 
 material part of man. The blood which is the supposed 
 vehicle of life in an animal, cannot exert itself as that 
 vehicle without the power of motion ; the cause, there- 
 fore, of that power of motion may be considered as the 
 immediate cause of the life of an animal. The cause of 
 this power is God. " He is the one supreme and per- 
 fect Being — independent in his existence, infinite in his 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 23 
 
 wisdom, eternal in his duration — the Author of all 
 power, the Source of all life, the cause of all motion." * 
 But the verb or life, as it has been called, of language, is 
 not the cause of the existence of the substantive, or the 
 substratum^ any more than the life of man is the cause of 
 his corporeal being: neither is the organization! of mat- 
 ter or corporeal substance, the cause of life or motion in 
 matter, any more than the construction of a sentence, or 
 any part of it, is the cause of a verb, or life, as it has 
 been called, in language. To assert otherwise than this 
 respecting language, is, according to Dr. Hales, to agree 
 with the doctrine of " ancient and modern professors of 
 atheistical philosophy;'* who represent " The faculty of 
 articulate speech, or language, as the mere instinctive 
 
 * Remarks on Scepticism, &c. by the Rev. T. Rennell, page 124. 
 
 t An organ is an instrument. Organization, therefore, is nothing 
 more than a system of parts so constructed and arranged, as to co- 
 operate to one common purpose. This orderly disposition of parta 
 exists generally, though a particular part may be disturbed, after its 
 subject has ceased to live. The ear is the organ of hearing, and its 
 correspondence with the brain exists as much in the dead, as in the 
 living body. Most of our knowledge, indeed, of this organization, or 
 arrangement of parts, and how they co-operate and mutually support 
 each other, has been derived from our observations upon the dead sub- 
 ject. Organization has been confounded with life, because without 
 organization, life, or the continuance of active existence, is not to be 
 found ; and because when organization in some particular parts is dis- 
 turbed, active existence ceases. But because no musical sounds can 
 be produced without an instrument, and because if that instrument be 
 disordered, those musical sounds cannot be elicited, no one would 
 argue that a flute or a trumpet is a musical sound; The instrument 
 may still remain, though not in a state of order sufficient to produce its 
 effect ; and general organization may exist, though from a deficiency in 
 one particular part, life has been extinguished. The rupture or disr 
 turbance of one single part, though it may put a stop to the activity, 
 yet it does not necessarily violate the arrangement of the thousands 
 which compose the animal body. — Remarks on Scepticism, &c. pages 80 
 and 81. 
 
gk anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 expression of the wants and desires of a herd of associated 
 savages, gradually invented for mutual convenience of 
 communication, and established by mutual consent."* 
 
 To expose, therefore, the absurdities of atheistical and 
 sceptical philosophy will promote our inquiries respect- 
 ing the nature of the verb, and enable us to answer the 
 question of Home Tooke,f or rather to distinguish the 
 relation which the verb bears to the substantive. This 
 exposition is reserved for the discussion of two separate 
 chapters. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Grotius — -Locke — Bichat — Morgan — Lawrence — Rennell — true philo- 
 sophy — body — soul — leading faculties of the soul — passions — Aris- 
 totle — Cicero — three distinct faculties of the soul — the soul never- 
 theless undivided — metaphysical writers — their inaccurate definitions 
 of the passions — lecturer of Trinity College, Dublin— Dr. Hutcheson — 
 no exciting reason previous to affection and instinct — excitement to 
 the faculty of judging dependent on the will — Locke's definition of 
 passion proved to be incorrect — appetite — affection — passions — defi- 
 nitions. 
 
 JLm.ES aliquas esse, quas esse cceperint, sensu <ipso et 
 confessione omnium constat. Eae autem res sibi non 
 fuerunt causa ut essent : nam quod non est agere non 
 potest ; nee ipsa res esse potuit, antequam esset. Se- 
 quitur igitur, ut aliunde habuerint sui origincm; quod 
 non tantiim de illis rebus, quas ipsi aut conspicimus aut 
 conspeximus, fatendum est ; sed et de iis, unde illae or- 
 tum habent; donee tandem ad aliquam causam per- 
 veniamus, quae esse nunquam cceperit: quaeque sit, ut 
 loqui solemus, non contingentcr, sed necessario. Hcc 
 
 * Dr. Hales, D'Oyhj and Mant's Bible. 
 
 t " What is that peculiar differential circumstance, which, added to 
 the definition of a noun, constitutes a verb r" 
 
[UtflVERSITl 
 
 AN INf2UinY ' &c - xgwivS^ 
 
 autem, qualecunque tandem sit, id ipsum est, ■ 
 Numinis aut Dei voce significatur. — H. Grothts De Ver. 
 Rel. Chris. 
 
 " Every thing" says Locke, " that has a beginning 
 must have a cause, — it is a true principle of reason, or a 
 proposition certainly true ; which we come to know by 
 contemplating our ideas, and perceiving that the idea of 
 beginning to be is necessarily connected with the idea of 
 some operation, and the idea of operation, with the idea 
 of something operating, which we call a cause ; and so 
 the beginning to be, is perceived to agree with the idea 
 of a cause, as is expressed in the proposition ; and thus 
 it comes to be a certain proposition ; and so may be 
 called a principle of reason, as every true proposition is 
 to him that perceives the certainty of it." — Locke's Jirst 
 Letter to the Bishop of Worcester. 
 
 From these passages we can easily suppose how the 
 great Locke would have answered the doctrines of mo- 
 dern sceptics respecting matter, and also their notions 
 of the organization of matter as the cause of life. But 
 the dogmas of M. Bichat, Sir T. C. Morgan, and Mr. 
 Lawrence, have lately been very ably exposed. S 
 
 " Of these three gentlemen," say the Edinburgh 
 Monthly Reviewers,* " M. Bichat is the only one who 
 has intelligibly communicated his notions upon the sub- 
 ject. If Mr. Lawrence understands the doctrine, he has 
 been very unhappy in his reasonings upon it. But as for 
 Sir T. C. Morgan, it will be quite plain to any one who 
 will be so bold as to examine his writings, that he has 
 adopted the doctrine without understanding it in any 
 tolerable degree." 
 
 * Number 13 ;~Article : Remarks on Scepticism, by Rennell. 
 
26 ANTI-SCEPTIOISM ; OR, 
 
 " After confounding life and organization," continue 
 the Reviewers, " these gentlemen very naturally proceed 
 to confound matter and mind, body and soul. Mr. 
 Lawrence very plainly declares himself satisfied that the 
 brain is not merely the instrument by which the mind 
 carries on its operations, but that it is of itself capable 
 of thought ; and is, in fact, that which is called mind or 
 soul. — To this ridiculous conclusion they have arrived 
 from mere confusion of terms and definitions, and from 
 totally neglecting to consider those distinctions between 
 mind and matter, with which every ordinary man is fa- 
 miliar." 
 
 " Mr. Rennell first exposes the mistakes on the sub- 
 ject of life into which M. Bichat has fallen. M. Bichat 
 does not admit of any such thing as intellectual life. 
 He has described life as of two kinds, organic and ani- 
 mal. Organic life is that which, he says, is common to 
 animals and vegetables ; and the passions, he says, are 
 among the functions of organic life. After quoting the 
 passage in which those opinions are expressed, Mr. 
 Rennell says: # — * Thus, then, according to M. Bichat, 
 a cabbage and a man, having the functions of organic 
 life in common, and the passions being among those 
 functions, it follows, that jealousy, anger, revenge, and 
 love, are the common affections of the man and the 
 cabbage. It will be seen, at a glance, that the fallacy 
 consists in omitting to distinguish those passions, such 
 as* j-ealousy, anger, &c. which have their origin and gra- 
 tification entirely in the mind, from those of sensuality, 
 &c. which require the instrumentality of outward or- 
 gans.* — " In another place," say the Edinburgh Monthly 
 
 ' * Remarks on Scepticism, &c. page 58. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 27 
 
 Reviewers, " M. Bichat attempts to shew, that the pas- 
 sions are the result of our material organization, and 
 that, therefore, they cannot be softened, nor their sphere 
 contracted, because they are not under the influence of 
 the will. And yet the very man who entertains this 
 opinion, has asserted, that education may bestow such 
 perfection on the judgment and reflection as to make 
 them more powerful than the passions. Mr. Ren- 
 nell having extracted both these passages, makes the fol- 
 lowing excellent observations :" — Edinburgh, Monthly 
 Review, No. 13. 
 
 * The very exercise of this superior power of judg- 
 ment and reflection must ultimately depend upon the 
 will, as every man's self-experience will inform him : and 
 if the impulse of the passions is thus subdued, it can 
 only be by restraint, and where there is restraint, the 
 sphere must be virtually contracted. As far, therefore, 
 as the theory of M. Bichat is intelligible, it contains 
 within itself a gross contradiction.' 
 
 4 To such paltry sophistry, and such palpable absur- 
 dities, are men of the highest professional eminence re- 
 duced, when they would annihilate that first, that no- 
 blest gift of God to man — The immortal Soul/ — Re- 
 marks on Scepticism, page 59. 
 
 The Creator, having fashioned man after his own 
 image, and proclaimed the exalted purpose of his exist- 
 ence, hath wisely ordained that a state of total inactivity 
 shall not be conducive to happiness, or even temporary 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The true philosopher is persuaded that the body h 
 mortal and that the soul is immortal ;* that, taken ab- 
 
 * Since the Author of our being has planted no wandering passion in 
 us, no desire which has not its object, futurity is the proper object Of the 
 
28 anti-$cepticism; or, 
 
 stractedly, the one is pure, and the other is impure, that 
 the earthly part of man is grovelling, that it is a ma- 
 chine, a mere engine to the reasoning part of him, in- 
 terested in no one thing but appetite, present enjoy- 
 ment, and self-preservation: and these it pursues as 
 the greatest possible good ! — while the other, qualified 
 with memory and reflection, reason and judgment, affec- 
 tion, love, and hope, contemplates, with joy, the design 
 and use of its present existence ; it feels that this lower 
 world is not to be its resting place ; that it is destined for 
 some nobler end. Man, therefore, is endowed with in- 
 tellectual susceptibility, that he may mark the changes of 
 his nature and the vicissitudes of human life; that he 
 may dignify his manners with rectitude of conduct, and 
 so fit the soul for future emancipation. 
 
 The principal or leading faculties of the soul are, 
 perhaps, better displayed by some of the Christian 
 Fathers,* than by either Aristotle or Cicero; In treat- 
 ing of the passions, Aristotle considered only the out- 
 ward circumstances of them ; and the remarks of Cicero, 
 in discoursing of the power and nature of the mind, evi- 
 dently shew, that with the passions he blended the appe- 
 tites ; for, in his Offices, wrath, lust, fear, and pleasure, 
 have been indiscriminately called by him passions. 
 
 While the memory, the understanding, and the will, 
 
 passion so constantly exercised about it ; and this restlessness in the 
 present, this assigning ourselves over to farther stages of duration, this 
 successive grasping at somewhat still to come, appears to me a kind of 
 instinct or natural symptom, which the mind of man has of its own im- 
 mortality . — Addison . 
 
 * Now when I turn my eyes inward, says St. Bernard, I discover 
 three distinct faculties in my soul, whereby I am qualified to remember, 
 and contemplate, and desire God — these are the memory, the under- 
 standing, and the will ; et seq.— Vide chap. J, St. Bernard's Book of the 
 SouL 
 
AN INQUMtY, ke. 29 
 
 are to be regarded as three distinct faculties, by which 
 we remember, contemplate, and desire, we must be sen- 
 sible, that these powers cannot be separated from one 
 another, and that, 1 consequently, there can be no abso- 
 lute division in the soul itself; for it is the whole soul 
 which exercises these faculties, the whole soul which 
 wills or imagines, understands or remembers. 
 
 But writers on metaphysical science have not given 
 very accurate definitions of the passions. Independently 
 of their admission of the divine and separate principle of 
 life, they are not more philosophic in their notions re- 
 specting the passions than those who have transcribed 
 the doctrines of materialism as promulgated by writers 
 of the French school of infidelity. 
 
 Excepting one or two, all the volumes with which we 
 are acquainted do not, in this particular, seem to exem- 
 plify any order or principle. In the middle of the last 
 century, the lecturer of oratory on the foundation of 
 Erasmus Smith, Esq. in Dublin, seemed to enter fully 
 into these ideas, when he endeavoured to unravel per- 
 plexities which modern metaphysicians had then thrown 
 upon the performances of the ancients ; and if I am not 
 insufficiently read in the present subject, Dr. Lawson 
 was the first of the modern Professors of Rhetoric, who 
 endeavoured to systematize the passions for the use of 
 students in oratory. But while this tribute of attention 
 is offered to the memory of the Lecturer of Trinity Col- 
 lege exclusively, we must not enter into the ideas implied 
 in the apology of the Doctor at the conclusion of the 
 tenth lecture, expressly intimating not only that rheto- 
 ricians had defined the passions imperfectly, but that 
 moralists had fallen into similar negligences : that his 
 ideas on the subject were completely new, and, therefore, 
 
30 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 that the theory would be viewed as an innovation, and 
 so be liable to censure. Now this was evidently advanced 
 to the exclusion of the disquisitions contained in the vo- 
 luminous treatises of Dr. Hutcheson on the passions, the 
 best, perhaps, extant : books which had been published 
 only a few years before, and which caused controversy suf- 
 ficient to produce ample illustrations of the moral sense ; 
 books which prove to us, in direct terms, that there can be 
 no exciting reason previously to affection, instinct, or the 
 moral faculty ; and that the conscience is distinct from 
 the sense of moral good and evil ; so, we conclude that 
 what taste is to natural discernment, conscience is to the 
 moral sense, — improved by knowledge and care. 
 
 The qualities or effects produced from the faculties of 
 the soul might not unaptly be called volition, judgment, 
 and knowledge* Dr. Lawson defines passion to be the 
 will acting with vehemence; but I think it appears 
 pretty evident that passion is feeling, modified by intellect 
 and the experience of sensation. " Writers," says Dr. 
 Lawson, " agree in mentioning two faculties of the 
 mind, of undoubted reality, and altqgether different, 
 the understanding and the will. Next after which they 
 place, as different springs of action, the passions ; in this 
 last, it seems, they are mistaken : for look into your own 
 breasts," says the Doctor, " is not the case thus ? You 
 apprehend a certain object to be good; you instantly de- 
 sire to obtain it ; if it be of much importance, vehe- 
 mently. What then is will, what passion ? are they not 
 the same operation, differing but in degree? For ob- 
 serve, the general act of desiring we name willing ;f add 
 
 * This is similar to the division of St. Bernard. 
 t It was the opinion of Locke, that desiring and willing are two 
 distinct acta of the mind. But his illustrations do not appear to be 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 31 
 
 hereto heat, ardour, it is passion. Passion then,'' says 
 the Doctor, " is the will acting with vehemence." # Now 
 to disprove the accuracy of this corrected definition, we 
 need only refer to the faculties o£ volition, judgment, and 
 knowledge. Independently of reason and experience, 
 the first, " volition" includes only instinct and appetite, 
 but, connected with them, it comprises every other mo- 
 dification of feeling, from the calmest of all possible 
 desire, to the most violent impetus of emotion, and 
 astonishment, and every feeling of energetic passion; 
 and however the second, "judgment" may be said to com- 
 prehend abstract as well as concrete ideas, and to dis- 
 cover differences, excitement to the faculty of judging is, 
 in a manner, dependent on the "jcill; for were there none 
 other power in the soul but contemplation, says Dr. 
 Hutcheson, there would be no affection, volition, desire, 
 or action ; further, without some motion of mil, no man 
 would voluntarily persevere in contemplation, there must 
 be a desire of knowledge and of the pleasure which at- 
 tends it ; and this too is an act of 'willing. 
 
 conclusive. " A man," says Locke, " v.- horn I cannot deny, may oblige 
 rrji to use persuasions to another which, at the same time I am speak- 
 ing, I may wish may not prevail upon him. In thi3 case," continues 
 Locke, " 'tis plain the will and desire run counter. I will the action 
 that tends one way, whilst my desire tends another, and that the direct 
 contrary." The reason, I humbly conceive, is because a stronger con- 
 quers the weaker desire. Again, " A man, who by a violent fit of the 
 gout in his limbs, finds a doziness in his head, or a want of appetite in 
 his stomach removed, desires to be eased too of the pain of his feet or 
 hands, (for where there is pain there is desire to be ridden of it) though 
 yet whilst he apprehends that the removal of the pain may translate the 
 noxious humour to a more vital part, his will is never determined to any 
 one action that may serve to remove the pain." What does this prove 
 more than that the will is prudently restrained by the superior energies 
 of the intellectual faculty ? 
 
 * Lectures concerning Oratory; by John Lawson, D,D. page 156, 
 
32 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 Taking this for granted, Dr. Lawson and the writers 
 quoted by him, are all partly wrong and all partly right. 
 Passions are not springs of action different from the 
 will, but they are the will, or feelings of the will, modi- 
 fied by experience. 
 
 Having been furnished with the elaborate treatises of 
 Dr. Hutcheson, and the subsequent disquisitions of the 
 learned Dublin Professor, Mr. Lawrence might have 
 been convinced that the passions are not the result of 
 material organization. And it is a matter of surprise 
 that E. Burke, Blair, Ward, Hemes, Sheridan, Walker, 
 and other men of eminence, have not given more ample 
 definitions of the passions, than as feelings or organs of 
 the soul, modifications, affections, or instincts; so that 
 appetites, affections, and passions, three distinct modifica- 
 tions of feeling, are mingled and thrown confusedly to- 
 gether. 
 
 It is plain, from the definition of the passion of love 
 in the Essay concerning Human Understanding, that 
 the ideas of Locke on passion were imperfect ; " Thus," 
 says the author, " any one reflecting upon the thought 
 he has of the delight which any present or absent thing 
 is apt to produce in him, has the idea we call love.* For 
 when a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them, 
 or in spring, when there are none, that he loves grapes, 
 it is no more, but that the taste of grapes delights him ; 
 let an alteration of health or constitution destroy the de- 
 light of the taste, and he then can be said to love 
 grapes no longer."! To disprove this description, which 
 
 * That is, the passion of love ; for having next defined hatred, the 
 writer observes, " were it my business here to inquire any farther than 
 into the bare idea of passions/' &c. 
 
 t Locke's Essay, chap. 20. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 33 
 
 indeed is none other than of appetite, it may be merely 
 noticed, that it is the union of affection with another 
 modification of feeling, called appetite, which constitutes 
 passion : so that if " alteration of health or constitution" 
 produces an effect in the animal system, similar to the 
 above illustration of Locke, it is possible for the affection 
 of love still to remain perfect. Does not the story of 
 Eloisa and Abelard exemplify this? or is there not in 
 the world such a feeling of the mind as affection between 
 the sexes ? " Love," says Dr. Smith, " is a violent, hot, 
 and impetuous passion : esteem is a sedate, and cool, and 
 peaceable affection of the mind." This is beautifully 
 illustrated by a modern dramatist : * " Listen to me, 
 child. I would proffer you friendship, for your own 
 sake — for the sake of benevolence. When ages, indeed, 
 are nearly equal, nature is prone to breathe so warmly 
 on the blossoms of friendship between the sexes, that the 
 fruit is desire ; but Time, fair one, is scattering snow on 
 my temples, while Hebe waves her freshest ringlets over 
 yours. Rely then on one who has encountered difficul- 
 ties enough to teach him sympathy; and who would 
 stretch forth his hand to a wandering female, and shelter 
 her like a father." 
 
 Appetite is peculiar to the animal, and discovers itself 
 antecedently to any idea of good in the object, by un- 
 easy sensation. This seems to be an admirable con- 
 trivance of the Deity to counterbalance the absence of 
 reason ; that animals, without it, may provide for their 
 necessities, and regulate the ties, the nice dependencies 
 which bind them to their species. The affections of man 
 may be said properly to belong to the soul: they are 
 
 * Mr. George Colman, the younger. 
 D 
 
34 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 feelings of calm desire or aversion, instituted by catena- 
 tion or association of idea; or, in other language, esta- 
 blished by affinity of mind or correspondence of spiritual 
 substance. Now the passions are feelings which seem to 
 be confused bodily and mental sensations, either of 
 pleasure or of pain; they are feelings or springs of 
 action which connect our rational or imaginary ideas of 
 good or evil". — The outward attributes of tlie passions are 
 visible in the face and other parts of the body. 
 
 If we regard the structure of the human mind, as only 
 capable of attending to one object or set of objects at a 
 time, we shall immediately conceive, that, unless the 
 organs of the body and faculties of the soul are adequately 
 attuned, confusion of thought, idea, and expression, will 
 be the natural consequence. Further : when the mind 
 is in action, any sudden impetus of congenial, pleasurable, 
 or painful bodily motion, will so prolong or invigorate 
 the existing affection, as frequently to distract and con- 
 found still more the reasoning faculty, and so pervert 
 altogether the moral sense. Thus the thief is deluded by 
 the idea of gain and riches ; and this keeps him from 
 considering or having any dread of the evil, which lies 
 sheltered under the false notion of gain ; of the desire that 
 degrades his soul, and taints it with injustice. And then, 
 as for any apprehension of discovery, imprisonment, and 
 punishment, which are the only calamities dreaded by 
 men of this description, his excessive eagerness utterly 
 overlooks and stifles all these; for he presently repre- 
 sents to himself what a world of men do such things, and 
 yet are never found out.* On the other hand, when the 
 passions are animated by the moral sense, they serve as 
 so many springs to virtuous actions. 
 
 * Sulpicius's Commentary upon Epictetus, chap. 2. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 35 
 
 The passions, as well as the affections,* therefore, are 
 feelings, or secret springs of action, modified by associa- 
 tion of idea. The affections are wholly intellectual ; the 
 passions are partly intellectual and partly corporeal. 
 Hence the passions are the mental and corporeal effects 
 of certain peculiar sensations which have been impressed 
 on the mind by various mechanical stimuli. When the 
 mind is anxious of possessing objects which are expected 
 to yield agreeable impressions, such anticipations are 
 called hope. The actual possession of the objects desired 
 is called joy. — The ideas or reflexions of such objects 
 between the sexes excite the -passion of love.— 
 
 " Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love !" 
 
 " It is to be all made of phantasy : 
 
 All made of passion and all made of wishes : 
 
 All adoration, duty, and obedience : 
 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience : 
 
 All purity, all trial, all observance." f 
 
 " As soon as a heart, before hard and obdurate, is 
 softened in this flame, we shall observe arising along with 
 it," says Dr. Hutcheson, " a love of poetry, music, the 
 beauty of nature in rural scenes, a contempt of the selfish 
 pleasures of the external senses, a neat dress, a bene- 
 volent deportment, a delight in, and emulation of every 
 thing which is gallant, generous, and friendly." 
 
 The probability of enduring sensations which have 
 before caused disagreeable impressions, excites the passion 
 of fear : the suffering of them, grief: the ideas of the 
 objects, hatred. 
 
 * " The internal affections necessarily arise according to our opinion 
 of their objects."— "An Inquiry concerning Moral Good and Evil" page 
 288.— Hutcheson. 
 
 t Shakspearc's Winter's Tale. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 jlnti-scepiicisiM; or, 
 
 According to these definitions and illustrations, the 
 passions correspond with various ideas which men have 
 of rational desire or aversion ; and, as before mentioned, 
 they are accompanied by confused bodily sensations : and 
 the external attributes of them are visible in the face and 
 various parts of the body: — so that the impressions of 
 good or pleasurable objects excite love ; and those of evil 
 or painful objects excite hatred : — and they are variously 
 modified in proportion to the degree of the certainty or 
 uncertainty of the presence or absence of the good or 
 evil. The passions, consequently, arise from a sense of 
 right and wrong.* 
 
 This compendium corresponds with the account of 
 Dr. Hutcheson ; which the following short extract will 
 prove : — 
 
 " We may easily conceive our affections and passions," 
 says Hutcheson, " in this manner. The apprehension 
 of good, either to ourselves or others, as attainable, raises 
 desire; the like apprehension of evil, or of the loss of 
 good, raises aversion, or desire of removing or prevent- 
 ing it. These two are the proper affections, distinct 
 from all sensation : we may call both desires if we please. 
 The reflection upon the presence or certain futurity of 
 any good, raises the sensation of joy, which is distinct 
 from those immediate sensations which arise from the 
 object itself. A like sensation is raised, when we reflect 
 upon the removal or prevention of evil which once 
 threatened ourselves or others. The reflection upon the 
 presence of evil, or the certain prospect of it, or of the 
 loss of good, is the occasion of the sensation of sorrow, 
 
 * Dramatic and epic poetry are entirely addressed to this sense, and 
 raise our passions by the fortunes of characters, distinctly represented 
 as naturally good or evil. — Hutcheson. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. S7 
 
 distinct from the immediate sensations arising from the 
 objects or events themselves. These affections, viz. de- 
 sire, aversion, joy, and sorrow, we may, after Mal- 
 branche," continues Hutcheson, " call spiritual or pure 
 affections ; because the purest spirit, were it subject to 
 any evil, might be capable of them. But beside these 
 affections, which seem to arise necessarily from a rational 
 apprehension of good or evil, there are in our nature 
 violent confused sensations, connected with bodily motions* 
 from which our affections are denominated passions" * 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Locke's notion of matter and substance — controversy between Locke 
 and the Bishop of Worcester — the inference of Locke shewn to be 
 the highest probability and opinion ; that of the Bishop of Worcester, 
 the demonstration and certainty, that " the thinking thing in us is im- 
 material" — argument of modern chemists confuted — the commence- 
 ment of the study of philosophy and true theoretic science aided by 
 the light of Revelation. 
 
 1 F there is any truth in these remarks, it is plain, that 
 the notion of Locke respecting passion began and ended 
 in the " instrumentality of the outward organs." But it 
 is presumed, that this should be merely viewed as an 
 oversight; it ought not to be received as a reason for 
 concluding, that the author of " The Essay on Human 
 Understanding" would have agreed with M. Bichat in 
 his conception respecting the "passion of a cabbage /" 
 and for this evident reason; because the arguments of 
 Locke respecting the passions, do not, by any means, 
 correspond with those which he himself has brought for- 
 
 * The Nature and Conduct of the Passions, pages G2 and 63.—Hutcli£son. 
 
38 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 ward concerning matter and spiritual substance. But 
 the arguments of Locke on these subjects have been 
 strangely misunderstood. It very commonly happens, 
 that those who have read detached passages only of one 
 side of a controversy, are the very persons who arrogate 
 to themselves the power and right of deciding upon the 
 merits of all that has been said and written upon it. 
 Thus, from a hasty perusal of one or two detached sen- 
 tences, to be selected from the celebrated controversy of 
 Locke and the Bishop of Worcester, the name even of 
 the great and enlightened author of " The Essay on 
 Human Understanding" has been impugned. But those 
 who, in any tolerable degree, are acquainted with this 
 controversy, will perceive, that when the author of the 
 " Remarks on Scepticism," says that matter is incapable of 
 thought, he is supported in the most unqualified manner 
 by Locke. " If we suppose nothing to be first, matter 
 can never begin to be ; if we suppose bare matter with- 
 out motion to be eternal, motion can never begin to be: 
 if matter and motion be supposed eternal, thought can 
 never begin to be; for if matter could produce thought, 
 then thought must be in the power of matter ; and if it 
 be in matter as such, it must be the inseparable property 
 of all matter ; which is contrary to the sense and expe- 
 rience of mankind." This is the substance of the argu- 
 ment used by Locke, to prove an infinite spiritual being : 
 and was agreeable to the opinions of his antagonist, the 
 Bishop of Worcester ; who cited the passage to shew 
 that he was " far from weakening the force of it." And 
 yet there are some men, such individuals as have been 
 mentioned, or individuals but a few gradations removed 
 from them, and most undoubtedly of sceptical opinions, 
 who maintain that a sedulous perusal of the writings of 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 59 
 
 Locke would tend to make the reader a materialist. 
 The remarks of these persons are most artfully intro- 
 duced to the minds of the young, with a mention of 
 the well-known conclusion of Locke, that " all the great 
 ends of morality and religion are well enough secured 
 without a demonstration that the thinking thing in us is 
 immaterial." The meaning of this sentence is no sooner 
 received by artless and unwary young men, than their 
 preceptor quotes a detached sentence from the " Essay 
 on Human Understanding," to shew " that we have the 
 ideas of matter and thinking, but possibly shall never be 
 able to know whether any material being thinks jox not ; 
 it being impossible for us, by the contemplation of our 
 own ideas, without revelation, to discover whether om- 
 nipotency hath not given to some systems of matter, fitly 
 disposed, a power to perceive or think." The sceptic 
 (no doubt very charitably) assists his pupil to interpret 
 the passage in perverting the language and argument of 
 the antagonist of Locke to his own purpose. " If this 
 be true then, for all that we can know by our ideas of 
 matter and thinking, matter may have a power of think- 
 ing; and if this hold, then it is impossible to prove a 
 spiritual substance in us, from the idea of thinking; for 
 how can we be assured by our ideas, that God hath not 
 given such a power of thinking, to matter so disposed as 
 our bodies are? Especially since it is said, 'that in 
 respect of our notions, it is not much more remote from 
 our comprehension to conceive that God can, if he 
 pleases, superadd to our idea of matter a faculty of 
 thinking/ " It is then answered, " whoever asserts this 
 can never prove a spiritual substance in us from a faculty 
 of thinking ; because he cannot know from the idea of 
 matter and thinking, that matter so disposed cannot 
 
40 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 think. And he cannot be certain, that God hath not 
 framed the matter of our bodies so as to be capable of 
 it." If this conclusion from the passage in the Essay on 
 Human Understanding were just, it would then follow 
 that the opinions of Locke were correspondent with those 
 contained in the French philosophy. It is presumed 
 that the true state of the case is otherwise. In the pas- 
 sage alluded to, Locke meant no more than that "A 
 thinking substance may be combined with a stone, a tree, 
 or an miimal body ; but that not one of the three can of 
 itself become a thinking being :" and " what is true of 
 one material substance, is true of every other ; for all 
 matter, whether organic or inorganic, fluid or solid, is 
 endowed with the same essential properties." * But let 
 the immortal Locke speak for himself. " Your Lord- 
 ship argues, that upon my principles it cannot be proved 
 that there is a spiritual substance in us. To which give 
 me leave, with submission, to say, that I think it may be 
 proved from my principles,, and I think I have done it; 
 and the proof in my book stands thus. First, we expe- 
 riment in ourselves thinking. The idea of this action or 
 mode of thinking, is inconsistent with the idea of self 
 subsistence, and therefore has a necessary connexion 
 with a support or subject of inhesion : the idea of that 
 support is what we call substance ,• and so from thinking 
 experimented in us, we have a proof of a thinking sub- 
 stance in us, which in my sense is a spirit. Against this 
 your Lordship will argue, that by what I have said of 
 the possibility that God may, if he pleases, superadd to 
 matter a faculty of thinking, it can never be proved that 
 there is a spiritual substance in us, because upon that 
 
 * flfuwwts c^ Scepticism, page S9w 
 
AN INQUIRY, &c. $t 
 
 supposition it is possible it may be a material substance 
 that thinks in us. I grant it ; but add, that the general 
 idea of substance being the same every where, the modi- 
 fication of thinking, or the power of thinking joined to 
 it, makes it a spirit, without considering what other mo- 
 dification it has, as, whether it has the modification of 
 solidity or no. As on the other side substance, that has 
 the modification of solidity is matter, whether it has the 
 modification of thinking or no. And, therefore, if your 
 Lordship means by a spiritual, an immaterial substance, 
 I grant I have not proved, nor, upon my principles, can 
 it be proved, your Lordship meaning (as I think you do) 
 demonstratively proved, that there is an immaterial sub- 
 stance in us that thinks. Though I presume, from what 
 I have said about the supposition of a system of matter, 
 thinking (which there demonstrates that God is imma- 
 terial) will prove it in the highest degree probable, that 
 the thinking substance in us is immaterial. But your 
 Lordship thinks probability not enough, and by charg- 
 ing the want of demonstration upon my principles, that 
 the thinking thing in us is immaterial, your Lordship 
 seems to conclude it demonstrable from principles of 
 philosophy." 
 
 This elucidation of the passage is exceedingly satis- 
 factory : the inference of the arguments of Locke, being 
 the lughest probability and opinion that the thinking 
 thing in us is immaterial, and the inference of the argu- 
 ments of the Bishop of Worcester being the demonstra- 
 tion and certainty that the thinking thing in us is imma- 
 terial. The fact is, the philosophy of Loc^e, like that 
 of Bacon, having " God for its author," was derived 
 from the pure fountain of truth. " For this corruptible 
 must put Qn incorruption, and this mortal must put on im- 
 
4'2 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 mortality .*" so that what Locke said, " To shew that all 
 the great ends of religion and morality are secured barely 
 by the immortality of the soul, without a necessary sup- 
 position that the soul is immaterial," he maintained 
 " that immortality may and shall be annexed to that 
 which in its own nature is neither immaterial nor im- 
 mortal, as the Apostle has expressly declared." After 
 having quoted from the Tusculan Questions and the sixth 
 book of the iEneid, he proves that Cicero and Virgil 
 put the same distinction between body and spirit as the 
 writers of the Old and New Testaments had done. 
 " That the one was a gross compages that could be felt 
 and handled; and that the other, such as Virgil describes 
 the ghost and soul of Anchises to be." The following 
 elucidates the fact : " Behold my hands and my feet , that 
 it is I myself: handle me and see ; for a spirit hath not 
 flesh and bones, as ye see me have.'' 9 These arguments 
 respecting the true meaning of the passage which has 
 been here cited, Locke concludes with the following 
 affirmation of his doctrine; which, I conceive, few per- 
 sons will be hardy or bold enough to attempt to contro- 
 vert. " Upon my principles," says Locke, " i. e. from 
 the idea of thinking, we can have a certainty that there 
 is a thinking substance in us; from hence we have a 
 certainty that there is an eternal thinking substance. This 
 thinking substance, which has been from eternity, I have 
 proved to be immaterial. This eternal, immaterial, 
 thinking substance, hath put into us a thinking sub- 
 stance, which, whether it be a material or immaterial 
 substance, cannot be infallibly demonstrated from our 
 ideas ; though from them it may be proved, that it is to 
 
 the HIGHEST DEGREE PROBABLE THAT IT IS IMMATERIAL. 
 
 This, in short, my Lord, is what I have to say on this 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 43 
 
 point." Still modern chemists maintain that nothing 
 but matter can act upon matter ; therefore the soul, say 
 they, is material. But Locke has proved, that there is 
 an eternal, immaterial, thinking substance; now this 
 eternal, immaterial, thinking substance creates, supports, 
 and governs all things, material and immaterial: upon 
 this we conclude that an immaterial substance can act 
 upon a material substance. Thus the argument of mo- 
 dern chemists respecting materialism, is at one blow 
 annihilated. We need not hesitate then in affirming 
 with Mr. Rennell, that " Notwithstanding all the at- 
 tempts which have been made to dissolve the connexion, 
 Revelation and science will ever receive a mutual coun- 
 tenance and support from each other. All the labours 
 of philosophic research have illustrated the page of 
 Revelation, and Revelation itself has added strength and 
 solidity to the discoveries of science."* Impressed with 
 these ideas, and not till then, man exerts his intellectual 
 powers to advantage — here his study of philosophy and 
 true theoretic science properly begins: it is here that 
 the lover of wisdom inhales the purest vital air ; it is in 
 the regions of unsophisticated truth, that students in 
 every department of scientific research employ their 
 energies to the best possible advantage for themselves 
 and their fellow men. 
 
 * Remarks on Scepticism, page 131. 
 
it anti-scepticism; ok, 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Opinion that if Home Tooke had pursued the same course of reasoning 
 as Locke had done, respecting fundamental doctrines, he would then 
 have been able to answer his own query respecting the substantive 
 and the verb — application of the two preceding chapters to the ques- 
 tion of Home Tooke — none else than the first cause can say I have 
 existence in or with my essence — inference and exemplification of 
 the nature of the artificial verb and definition — elucidation of five 
 elementary parts of speech and the use of the article and other re- 
 strictives — the use of supernumerary particles when reasoning on the 
 simple proposition. 
 
 XT is evident, to me at least, that if Home Tooke had 
 availed himself of the course of reasoning which had 
 been adopted by Locke, respecting intellect and Revela- 
 tion, and had he imbibed more accurate notions than it 
 is manifest he did, respecting the eternal, immutable, and 
 necessary existence, he would then, possibly, have been 
 enabled to separate the verb from the substantive, in the 
 artificial language of man : he would have seen the fallacy 
 of supposing the existence of " a differential something" 
 in the verb over and above what he conceived to be in- 
 herent in the substantive. The truth is, every step 
 which man takes in science, should be done with exceed- 
 ing humility : by night and by day he should feel himself 
 dependent on the Being who called him into birth; on the 
 Being who supports and incites him forward to action. 
 And, let it be asked, what mighty stretch of thought 
 does this require? Quod si et ilia cognoscit Deus, quidni 
 et curet ? — is the language of the learned and philosophic 
 Grotius, on the individual government and providence 
 of God. But it is of little consequence to science, that 
 we assent to the truth of any just and incontrovertible 
 
AN INQUIRY, SCC. 45 
 
 proposition, unless " by industry and patient thought," * 
 We apply it, and suffer it to influence our judgment in 
 its decisions respecting apparently contrary circum- 
 stances. This remark is altogether applicable to science 
 in general, and also to the one grand and fundamental 
 proposition — there is an infinitely wise and perfect Being, 
 who creates, supports, and governs all things, JJnus 
 est vivus, et vents Deus, ceternus, incorporeus, impar- 
 tibilis, impassibilis, immensce potentide, sapientice, ac bo- 
 nitatis, creator et conservator omnium, turn visibilium, 
 turn invisibilium. " Most important it is," says an elo- 
 quent writer, whom I have frequently quoted, " that in 
 every department of philosophy, the mind should be led 
 upward to discern the intimate connexion and absolute 
 dependence of all things upon God : that their beginning 
 should be traced to the causation of his power, and their 
 end to the fulfilment of his will. It was this which 
 added to the researches of Newton, of Bacon, and of 
 Locke, an elevation, a clearness, and a consistency, to 
 which, otherwise, even with the powers of their mighty 
 minds, they could never have attained. They drank 
 deep of the fountain of all truth : they began and they 
 ended in God."f 
 
 Applying these remarks to the present purpose, recol- 
 lecting the truth and fundamental article of belief in our 
 inquiries concerning the nature and philosophy of lan- 
 guage, we shall be soon led to an acknowledgment of 
 
 * " When I wrote my Treatise about our system," says Sir Isaac 
 Newton, in his letter to Dr. Bentley, " I had an eye upon such prin- 
 ciples as might work with considerate men for the belief of a Deity ; 
 and nothing can rejoice me more, than to find it useful for that purpose. 
 But if I have done the public any service in this way, it is due to no- 
 thing but industry and patient thought." 
 
 1 Remarks on Scepticism, page 9. 
 
46 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 the correspondent natures of the substantive, the verb, 
 and its attribute. In this exalted sense the verb is 
 coeval with the noun substantive. Hoc inde colligitur, 
 quod Deus, ut supra jam dictum est, est id, quod est neces- 
 sarib, sive per se : but this does not apply to artificial 
 language; because none else than this eternal, immuta- 
 ble, and necessary existence can say I AM. That is, I 
 have existence in or with my essence. *Ey« El^r It fol- 
 lows, therefore, that every created being, mind, and 
 body, and every sort of matter and motion is an accusa- 
 tive case, governed by some verb corresponding to the 
 notion which we attach to the word cause or create: 
 which verb, in its exalted signification, is coeval with the 
 substantive, both being concentrated in the one word, or 
 Aoyo? — verbum essentiale Dei, sive Christus (Hederico) 
 Dei verbum, imd magis ipse Deus {Iren: p. 132, Water- 
 land:) — this Aoyo*, therefore, is the 'Eyu Zlpi' Before 
 Abraham was, I AM. 
 
 It is necessarily understood, reasonably and philoso- 
 phically inferred, that, in artificial language, though the 
 verb to be is neuter, yet, in relation to the ~first Cause of 
 all created being and matter, it is active. Thus : a £*, 
 the Being (including under the term the notion of power 
 and might irresistible, perfect knowledge and consum- 
 mate wisdom, eternity, immutability, and omnipresence, 
 creative power, supremacy, independence, and necessary 
 existence) bes (facit ut sit : i. e. creates or causes to exist J 
 being (i. e. spiritual and corporeal substance, mind and 
 body — man — and matter and motion.) The Being bes 
 being : that is, the almighty and everlasting God creates 
 matter and motion, mind and body, and all other spirits 
 and substances : the Almighty creates man. Creates is the 
 verb to be in disguise. To comprehend the full meaning 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 47 
 
 of what is here advanced, let us make man the subject of 
 the verb, and some other word the predicate : we shall 
 perceive then, that the verb no longer maintains its 
 active power, but becomes neuter. " Man is an animal." 
 Here the part of speech is, evidently has neither the 
 force of creates, nor indeed that of exists ; for it is not 
 meant, that man exists, he being an animal, i. e. because 
 he is an animal: nor is it merely meant that man exists, 
 an animal exists. The meaning and force of the verb, 
 is, in this instance, indicates it to be a sign of affirmation, 
 to shew that man is not merely a name, nomen, but that 
 it is a noun substantive, nomen substdntivum, and that 
 something is predicated of man. In pronouncing the 
 sentence, " Man is an animal," is assumes no more im- 
 portance than a particle, for it has no aqcent, but is 
 joined to the two parts of speech, an animal — the three 
 being pronounced as one word; viz. is-ananimal, with 
 the accent on the antepenultimate syllable. In Greek 
 and Latin, the verb to be, used in this sense, is frequently 
 omitted; and in Hebrew it is almost always used ex- 
 clusively as referring to the Elohim. The Causing 
 Power, or First Cause, causes the second causing power, 
 or motion : i. e. the Almighty causes motion. Now it is 
 plain, that if the order of the substantives were trans- 
 posed, the meaning then conveyed would be that of a 
 false proposition ; — affirming the doctrine of atheistical 
 philosophy : but, if we say, motion {or secondary cause) 
 causes health ; or, in other words, exercise {or secondary 
 cause) strengthens the constitution : this is a true proposition. 
 Hence it is perceived, that parts of speech indicative of 
 causes are subjects or nominative cases of verbs, and that 
 the verb, in its original and most enlarged sense, is used 
 to signify the being or statg, the modification of the state 
 
48 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 and fmxe of a cause or an agent and an object. This 
 simple process explains the nature and construction of 
 artificial language; it is presumed, moreover, that this 
 process discovers, that " the verb is" — not — " something 
 more than the substantive ;" but that it is a differential 
 sign or part of speech, used to point out the power which 
 one substantive has over another substantive: or, in 
 other words, a verb is a part of speech, which signifies 
 that a thing exists, that it is something more than a 
 mere name, that the thing lives, that it is a noun substan- 
 tive : the verb indicates, likewise, that something is 
 affirmed of the noun substantive; it points out that a 
 noun substantive acts upon an object or suffers by an 
 agent. A verb, therefore, is apart of speech, which is used 
 in discourse to signify the modification of the state, life, 
 and power, of a noun substantive. 
 
 From these, and some former arguments, it is proved, 
 that the verb arose from the noun substantive ; and that 
 the verb is a sign or part of speech to signify the state of 
 the nOun substantive. It has been also shewn, that, in 
 communicating primary sensations, we adopt five ele- 
 mentary parts of speech : this adoption, it has appeared, is 
 applicable to all languages, and upon this the first princi- 
 ples of Grammar are uniformly founded. But these ele- 
 mentary parts of speech require restrictives, pointers, or 
 markers, before they can stand for definitive and gram- 
 matical sentences: which the following elucidations will 
 clearly demonstrate : — 
 
 Harsh sound offends greatly ear. 
 In this order of words, the subject or cause of the im- 
 pression, " harsh sound," is conveyed to the mind 
 through the medium of the appropriate organ, and, in 
 communicating to another the effect occasioned, it is 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 49 
 
 instantly hurried back with types or figures of voice ex- 
 pressive of the whole sensation : still " harsh sound" is a 
 general term; therefore, to render the meaning of the 
 term distinct and particular, a restrictive part of speech 
 is required. 
 
 Red ball strikes gently green ball. 
 In this, as in the former order of words, the subject or 
 cause of the impression being first announced, the action, 
 " strikes,'* or first part of the effect occasioned, follows; 
 next the manner of the action, " gently," and lastly, the 
 object or accusative of the verb. And here, as before, 
 is clearly required the restrictive part of speech. The 
 same remark will apply to the following examples : — 
 Delicious peach diffuses powerfully flavour. 
 Hard ball strikes forcibly hand. 
 Damask rose scatters agreeably odour. 
 Every word in these examples is introduced, and 
 placed one after the other in its natural order : and 
 however, in languages of the transpositive idiom, such 
 order may be broken, yet according to the clear con- 
 struction of the English language, the situation of no 
 one of them, in the whole five examples, could be altered, 
 without materially injuring the picture of each sensation. 
 But, as it has been said, the meaning which is attached 
 to each sentence is general ; the use of articles and pro- 
 nouns, therefore, is essential to clearness and perspicuity. 
 The distinct use and restrictive power of the article is 
 well explained by Dr. Blair: — " When men had got 
 beyond simple interjections or exclamations of passion," 
 says this elegaftit writer, " and had begun to commu- 
 nicate their ideas to each other, they would be obliged 
 to assign names to the objects by which they were sur- 
 rounded. Whichever way he looked, forests and trees 
 
 E 
 
50 ANTI-SCEPTICISM J OR, 
 
 would meet the eye of the beholder. To distinguish 
 the trees by separate names would have been endless. 
 Their common qualities, such as springing from a root, 
 and bearing branches and leaves would suggest a general 
 idea and a general name. The genus, a tree, would 
 afterwards be subdivided into its several species of oak, 
 elm, ash, &c. by experience and observation." 
 
 " Still, however, only general terms of speech were 
 adopted. For the oak, the elm, and the ash, were names 
 ©f whole classes of objects, each of which comprehended 
 an immense number of undistinguished individuals. Thus 
 when the terms, man, lion, or tree, were mentioned in 
 conversation, it would not be known which man, lion, 
 or tree was meant, among the multitude comprehended 
 under one name. Hence arose a very useful and curious 
 contrivance for determining the individual object in- 
 tended, by means of that part of speech called the 
 article." 
 
 Although it is not immediately connected with our 
 present purpose, to enter into the discussion of topics 
 blended with etymology, yet I shall not withhold one or 
 two remarks respecting the article and the pronominal 
 adjective or demonstrative pronoun : and the more espe- 
 cially, as it will corroborate the general argument of the 
 noun substantive's being the primitive part of speech. 
 
 An is evidently derived from one or cene, the Saxon 
 £br one. Of all the anomalies in English pronunciation, 
 the part of speech one, pronounced ooun, is nearly the 
 greatest : but whether or not we regard the Saxon pro- 
 nunciation of cene, an, as the root of the article a?i 9 it is 
 very clear, that we can derive this part of speech even 
 from the corrupted ooun. Thus in vulgar phraseology, 
 " a man is a good 'un or a bad 'un : his action is a good 
 
AN INQUIRY, .&.C. 51 
 
 fun or a bad 'un :" here un is most certainly a contraction 
 of ooun. The possessives mine and thine, and also the 
 vulgar hern and theirn, are unquestionably to be derived 
 from the same source — u being afterwards syncopated. 
 And though the a in an may have descended to us 
 through the obsolete ane, (used in North Britain for 
 one), still the pronunciation of an is as truly the identical 
 articulation of the contracted un, as heard in each of the 
 above phrases. Thus, we say un apple, pronounced as 
 one word, viz. unapple, or un egg, unegg, and not an 
 apple, nor an egg, though it is so written. 
 
 Accounting for the article an, and, at the same time, 
 proving, that it was originally either a noun or an ad* 
 jective, we can account for the article a, independently 
 of the Saxon, upon the same principle as that which 
 governs, in composition, the alteration or elision of the 
 consonants in the Latin ad, ab, con, and in. Thus n 
 before m became altered in the pronunciation to m ; be- 
 fore b, to b ; and so of the rest of the consonants : or 
 rather the n in the article an before a consonant was 
 identified with the consonant. Thus : instead of saying 
 am man, ab ball, &c. that is, articulating the consonant 
 twice, our ancestors adopted, possibly, the articulation 
 of the Latins in their pronunciation of such words as 
 immitto ; here, though m and t are written twice, each 
 letter is articulated but once. The same remarks apply 
 to such English words as committee ; the consonants m 
 and t are only articulated once ; i. e. in articulating the 
 letter m, the lips unite once only, and, in articulating t, 
 the tongue, connects itself once only with the gums. It 
 is presumed that the root of a and an is clearly seen in the 
 numeral one ; and this enables us to trace a and an to a 
 noun or an adjective. They are called articles indefinite, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 because they point out the general signification of the 
 substantive to which they are annexed. The article an 
 is used before vowels, and before words beginning with 
 Ji mute ; the article a before consonants, and before the 
 part of speech one, the letter u, when open, as in the 
 words use, union, university, and before the aspirate //, 
 unless the accent of the word be on the second syllable, 
 as an heroic action, an historical account. 
 
 Our article the points out and determines how far the 
 signification of the noun or substantive to which it is an- 
 nexed extends, and is, therefore, called definite. This 
 article closely resembles the demonstrative pronoun that : 
 the principal differences in these two parts of speech ap- 
 pear to be these : the pronoun that has usually an accent, 
 the article the has not: that, therefore, may be used 
 without a noun or substantive, the cannot. Home 
 Tooke considers that as the past participle, and the as 
 the imperative mood of the verb thcan, to get, to take, 
 to assume : but independently of etymological analysis, 
 the and that may be reduced to adjectives by opposing 
 them to 0. " I said the hard ball, not a hard ball ; I said 
 that red ball, not a red ball." 
 
 In the use of the article, the English is superior to the 
 Roman language : which is exemplified in the following 
 instances. " The friend of a king — the friend of the 
 king — a friend of the king." Each of these phrases, 
 says Dr. Blair, has a separate meaning, too obvious to 
 be misunderstood. In Latin, amicus regis, is entirely 
 undetermined : it may bear any of the three senses which 
 have been mentioned : and requires other words to 
 ascertain its meaning.* The Greek, o, r,, to, corresponds 
 
 * Dr. Blair's Lectures* 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. $3 
 
 with our definite article; the absence of it in Greek, 
 signifies, that a noun or substantive is to be of general 
 application. In this respect, the English is superior to 
 the Greek; but the Greek article, as a prefix to the 
 infinitive mood, as a sign to signify its noun-state, is a 
 refinement, which does not occur in our language. 
 
 The former five examples of primary sensations may 
 now be altered and restricted thus : 
 
 That harsh sound offends greatly the ear. 
 u The ear :" in this instance, the article has peculiarly a 
 restrictive power ; it means, I conceive, the or every ear 
 which is perfectly susceptible ; or it may mean the ear of 
 the person speaking. 
 
 The red ball strikes gently the green ball. 
 
 This delicious peach diffuses powerfully the flavour. 
 
 The hard ball strikes forcibly the hand. 
 
 This damask rose scatters agreeably the odour. 
 Words are the transcripts of ideas : the more strictly 
 these transcriptions adhere to the analogy of thought, 
 the more adequately will the growth of idea be repre- 
 sented. But as the mind, that grand and noble spring 
 of action, is capable of considerable advancement, she is 
 desirous, through the medium of her powers over the 
 body and its organs, to exercise her god-like functions 
 of reason ; she is not satisfied with the mere impressive 
 sensation of single objects, with the mere utterance of 
 individual propositions ; but, by a certain consciousness 
 of sensation in her faculty, she is desirous of extending 
 them to the use and comfort of her outward frame ; and 
 by affording balmy consolations of future emancipation, 
 she suggests the necessity of a dignified deportment. 
 
 When we proceed to reason on the simple proposition, 
 the analogous order of words is in some measure broken; 
 
54; ANTI-SCKPTICISM ; OR, 
 
 and supernumerary particles of speech are then adopted, 
 to connect and unite words into another form of phrase- 
 ology ; in which, not only all the operations of the art 
 of reasoning are brought into action ; but, likewise, all 
 the flowers and ornaments of mild and soft persuasion 
 are employed, to delight and amuse the imagination. 
 Though the meaning be complex, the unity of the sen- 
 tence must be perfect. A simple or known object (after 
 the sensation of it has been made upon the mind through 
 the medium of the appropriate outward organ) has, for 
 expression or communication, its one type or single 
 figure in written characters, called a word : but a com- 
 plex, strange, or undefined object, has its many types, 
 figures, or words, drawn by the mind from likeness, from 
 comparison, and example. 
 
 " As in the works of nature, no man can properly 
 call a river deep, or a mountain high, without the know- 
 ledge of many mountains and many rivers ; so in the 
 productions of genius, nothing can be styled excellent, 
 till it has been compared with other works of the same 
 kind." 
 
 In communicating this form of idea, the English lan- 
 guage is furnished with smaller particles of speech, which 
 stand for relatives, auxiliaries, connectives, conjunctives, 
 and disjunctives, with definers or markers; these are 
 gathered about the nouns, the verbs, and their attributes, 
 to render them analogous to the perception, and easy 
 and familiar to the understanding. It appears to be the 
 general opinion, that almost all the derivations of Home 
 Tooke are established : with the following affirmation of 
 his theory respecting pronouns, conjunctions, and prepo- 
 sitions, I shall pass over the subject of etymology, re- 
 commending to those who are partial to philological study, 
 
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 and have not hitherto read the work, a careful perusal 
 of the " Diversions of Purley." " All those words which 
 are usually termed pronouns, conjunctions, and prepo- 
 sitions, are the corruptions of nouns or verbs, and are 
 still employed with a sense refer rible to that which they 
 bore when in the acknowledged form of nouns and 
 verbs." To this I shall merely add, that although pro- 
 nouns are generally used to avoid the repetition of nouns, 
 they sometimes stand as nouns, i. e. not to avoid the 
 repetition of nouns : and, in this case, they have a pecu- 
 liar restrictive power : for example — " He who cannot 
 persuade himself," &c. he is accentuated, and has the 
 force of a noun preceded by a definite article, i. e. the 
 man who cannot, &c. 
 
 To render the communication of an idea easy and 
 familiar to the understanding, words must be properly 
 chosen ; and words distributed in suitable order are 
 essential to the beauty and elegance of compound sen- 
 tences. This seems to be deduced from a general 
 principle of nature; the eye and the ear are fond of 
 uniting such objects and sounds, as shall bear the 
 closest resemblance to each other, and also of placing 
 others at a measured distance, that comparison may be 
 formed, and the value of contradistinction and variety 
 be duly appreciated. Notwithstanding this, our collo- 
 quial sentences do not always exemplify this order ; and 
 yet we are understood. To account for this circum- 
 stance belongs to the topics connected with the Theory 
 of Elocution,* and is perfectly foreign to the object of 
 the present Treatise. 
 
 * Vide the Philosophy of Elocution, page 121 3— the circumstance is 
 there explained. 
 
5& anti-scepticism; ok, 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Question, whether or not the English grammar should be formed on 
 the Latin plan — opinions of grammarians respecting the six cases — 
 objections answered — the authors of the Eton Latin Grammar have 
 proceeded upon the supposition that the Latin can be taught in con- 
 nexion with the English grammar — Latin neuter nouns, &c. — eluci- 
 dations of the English genitive — accentuation and the union of the 
 parts of speech which stand for the English of Latin nouns — Latin 
 prepositions — tenses of the verb. 
 
 I.T may be safely affirmed, that the best writers of 
 English, are those scholars who have derived their know- 
 ledge of grammar from a study of the dead languages.* 
 In our public schools, and, excepting a very few in- 
 stances, in our private classical schools, the English 
 grammar is not taught. The pupils of each seminary 
 become gradually acquainted with grammar and the 
 use of their native tongue, from the study of Greek and 
 Latin, and the reading of the best classical English 
 authors. This, however, has not prevented grammarians 
 of talent and celebrity from arranging institutes for the 
 exclusive use of English students; and their motive, every 
 one must allow, is honourable to their feelings, as English- 
 men. Nevertheless, we cannot help regretting, that those 
 institutes are not adapted, as much as the genius of our 
 language will admit, to the government and discipline of 
 the Latin tongue. It may be said, that, to a very great 
 extent, the thing is impossible; because the idioms of the 
 
 * " The habit of strict and careful analysis, which is formed by the 
 process of judicious instruction in the Greek and Latin languages, is 
 itself a most valuable acquisition, and is an excellent preparative for 
 the exertion of the mental powers, in all other inquiries." * * * * "A 
 correct English style and true delicacy of composition, are hardly ever 
 acquired but by the medium of classical literature."— Systematic Edu- 
 cation. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 57 
 
 two languages, the order of words* and the general con- 
 struction of sentences, are essentially different. That 
 the languages do not correspond in idiom, every one 
 will allow; but that the leading principles of the gram- 
 mar of English are different from those of Greek and 
 Latin, is a proposition not so easily to be admitted. 
 But if the idiomatic construction is different, it does not 
 thence follow, that either the difference should be made 
 to appear greater than it really is, or that where there is 
 an actual resemblance, it should be concealed. To the 
 youthful mind, the path towards grammatical accuracy 
 is sufficiently thorny, without rendering it more so. 
 Besides, grammatical analysis, grounded upon the true 
 philosophy of language, is the easiest and best possible 
 mode of teaching the youthful mind to think ; the re- 
 verse is certain to act as an impediment to the intellec- 
 tual advancement of those tyros, who, having mastered 
 the principles of any of the English grammars now in 
 use, might have occasion afterwards to apply themselves 
 to the study of Latin and Greek. To one of Dryden's 
 children, " a child of larger growth," a hobbedy-hoy, or 
 a man, who might undertake the study of those lan- 
 guages at an advanced age, the inconvenience would not 
 be so considerable : because the meditative faculties and 
 judgment in him would be alive ; and the adult mind is 
 capable of appreciating the merits of philosophical ana- 
 lysis. But to little boys, who, by dint of application* 
 have accomplished, and who pretty well understand the 
 analytical parsing of Dr. Ash, Dr. Lowth, or Mr. 
 
 * In English, it is the order of words which frequently distin- 
 guishes the grammar of a sentence : viz. " Alexander conquered Da- 
 rius :" invert the order of the nouns and the grammar of the sentence is 
 changed. 
 
58 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 Lindley Murray, it is a serious labour and certainly a 
 great loss of time ; because they are now under the ne- 
 cessity of traversing the ground again, and that upon a 
 more difficult and complicated plan. 
 
 An English grammar, modelled upon the Latin form, 
 would strengthen the conceptions of those pupils, who 
 are intended to begin the study of the classics at their 
 first entrance In the grammar school ; and what refers 
 to these pupils would apply equally to those who might 
 commence their classical studies at a future period. It 
 may be here remarked, that, as there is very little varia- 
 tion of the declensions of nouns and verbs in English, a 
 grammar arranged upon the Latin plan would, of course, 
 be much more easy of comprehension for the very little 
 boy than the Latin grammar itself; where the declen- 
 sions are of a more complex form. This plan would, I am 
 convinced, be a wholesome preparative to the reading 
 of the Eton, Westminster, or any other Latin grammar. 
 The following remarks of Walker prove that, in this par- 
 ticular, 1 am not singular in my opinions : — " Almost all 
 our grammars," says this writer, " seem to lean, without 
 necessity, to an exclusion of Latin terms, and Latin forms 
 of construction. This propensity has been observed by 
 a judicious grammarian, who says — * Most of the writers 
 since Dr. Lowth, forming a supposition, perhaps, that 
 the English language hath little concern with the Latin, 
 seem to have departed as much as possible, not only from 
 the rudiments, but the terms made use of in grammars 
 of that tongue ; and have chosen to put their materials 
 into any form, rather than suffer them to fall in with the 
 Latin plan. In the distribution of the moods and tenses 
 particularly, there is a remarkable variety ; some arrange 
 them in one manner, some in another; some enlarge,while 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 59 
 
 others diminish their number. In one grammar a tense 
 is transposed in the same mood ; in another, it is trans- 
 planted into a different one ; and in all, many of the 
 technical terms are changed for others, equally, if not 
 more abstracted and perplexing : and thus a new kind 
 of grammatical language has been invented.' — Shaw's 
 Grammar; Preface. — " From this state of the case* 
 which appears to be a very just one," continues Walker, 
 " we may perceive how difficult it is to avoid extremes. 
 Because some of the old grammarians were too fond of 
 the Latin terms, and Latin forms of construction, the 
 modems have attempted to exclude them altogether; 
 and thus, by avoiding one fault, have fallen into an- 
 other, ntf. : 
 
 f But it will be naturally demanded, of what use to 
 an English scholar is retaining the Latin terms and 
 ibrms of construction? It may be answered, that if 
 these terms and forms of construction are as intelligible 
 as any we can substitute in their stead, why should we 
 depart from the ancient and received grammatical lan- 
 guage of Europe, without deriving any advantage from 
 the change ? If, indeed, the Latin terms and forms of 
 construction were much more difficult than such as must 
 be substituted to supply their place, the objection would 
 be a very strong one: but this is not really the case. 
 In the declension of nouns we must have two cases, and 
 in that of pronouns, three. Where would be the diffi- 
 culty or embarrassment in extending the cases to six, the 
 number of them in Latin. The answer will be, because 
 we have no such cases in our language, and, therefore, 
 why should we create them ? It may be replied, that a 
 case or termination of a noun adds no more to its signi- 
 fication than a preposition prefixed to it; th« difficulty 
 
60 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 then of adopting these cases is ideal : three more cases 
 would be as easily learned as the two or three we are 
 obliged to adopt; and, by doing so, we speak the general 
 grammatical language of all the scholars in Europe : for 
 it must be observed, that general utility, and not philo- 
 sophical or abstract propriety, is the great object of 
 grammar, as well as of language. 
 
 " What has been observed of the cases of nouns is 
 applicable to the declensions. We are obliged to form 
 nouns into classes according to their several modes of 
 forming their plurals; and as we have five varieties of 
 this formation, where would be the impropriety of calling 
 each of these modes a declension ? I greatly mistake, if 
 putting each of these varieties in a table declined with 
 all their cases, will not make a better and more lasting 
 impression of the plurals and genitives of nouns, which 
 are so often confounded, than the short transient way in 
 which they are generally mentioned. 
 
 " The moods of verbs in Latin, except the optative, 
 have been generally retained by some of the most re- 
 spectable English grammarians ; notwithstanding the 
 strong reasons which may be brought to prove, that we 
 have no more than one mood in English. To abolish 
 these moods would be certainly to coin our grammar 
 anew ; but it is highly probable, that what it might gain 
 by this in metaphysical value, it would lose in general 
 currency. 
 
 " It will scarcely be questioned, that for boys who are 
 to have a Latin education, an English grammar in the 
 Latin form would be by far the most eligible. But why, 
 it will be said, should ladies be plagued with Latin terms 
 and forms of construction ? Why ? it may be again an- 
 swered, because they are as easily understood as any 
 
AN INQUIRY, Sec. 61 
 
 other. What difficulty do we avoid by calling the noun 
 or substantive, a name; the adjective, an adnoun or a 
 quality ; the verb, an affirmation ; and the indeclinable 
 parts of speech, particles ? Are the leading state and 
 the following state of the noun, which are very inadequate 
 and erroneous terms, more easily conceived than the 
 nominative and the accusative cases ? or is the case of 
 the substantive or personal pronoun, when a question is 
 asked, better apprehended by saying the leading state of 
 the substantive or pronoun follows the affirmation, in- 
 stead of coming before it ? One would think such egre- 
 gious trifling as this could never have entered into the 
 heads of men of sense. If these improvements then are 
 merely visionary, I know not why ladies are to be in- 
 structed by a grammar different from that of men, any 
 more than that they should learn composition by a dif- 
 ferent system of rhetoric." — Walker* s Grammar; Preface. 
 
 But if there are persons who think, that, for the con- 
 venience of students in the classics particularly, our lan- 
 guage should be accommodated to the grammar of 
 Greek and Latin, and strenuously contend for an equal 
 number of cases with theirs, there are others who object 
 to the plan in toto. 
 
 w Though the Greeks and Romans," says the author 
 of « A Treatise on the Etymology and Syntax of the 
 English Language/ " expressed the different relations 
 by variety of inflexion, which they termed cases, it does 
 not follow, that we are to acknowledge the same number 
 of cases as they had, when these relations are expressed 
 in English, not by inflexions, but by prepositions, or 
 words, significant of these relations. The Latins would 
 not have acknowledged absque fnictu, without fruit, as 
 forming a »evemh case, though they acknowledged 
 
62 ANTI-SCEPTICISM ; OR, 
 
 fructu, by fruit, as making an ablative or sixth case. 
 And why ? Because the latter only was formed by in- 
 flexion. For this reason, I consider giving the name of 
 dative case to the combination of words to a king, or of 
 ablative case to the expression from a king to be a pal- 
 pable impropriety. Our language knows no such cases ; 
 nor would an Englishman, unacquainted with Greek 
 and Latin, ever dream of these cases, though perfectly 
 master of his own language." — Second Edition, page 129. 
 
 In further support of this latter opinion, it is said, by 
 the compilers of " Systematic Education," that "if case 
 mean a change in the word, to denote connexion with other 
 words, then the plan of our language cannot be accom- 
 modated to that of the Latin : if of a man, to a man, &c. 
 be considered as cases, there is certainly no reason why 
 the same appellation should not be given to every noun 
 to which a preposition is prefixed, and then we shall 
 have above thirty cases." 
 
 The term case being derived from cado, grammarians 
 affix to it the meaning of falling, i. e. say they, the fall- 
 ing from the nominative : but if this is the accurate mean- 
 ing of the term, it follows that in Latin the nominative 
 itself, and the vocative (except that of the second declen- 
 sion, whose nominative ends in 2is) and also the accusa- 
 tive of neuter nouns, &c. are not cases: may not the 
 meaning of the term more accurately be called the fall- 
 ing out, the event or accident of the agent and object, as 
 connected with the verb ? This explanation, it is con- 
 ceived, accords with the notion which grammarians en- 
 tertain of the term syntax, as applied to the construction 
 of a sentence ; but the other, i. e. the falling from the 
 nominative, accords with the notion which is generally 
 entertained of the term etymology, and the formation ot 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 63 
 
 individual parts of speech. But the grammarians, in 
 " Systematic Education," say, that " the variation of our 
 nouns is confined to mark one relation, that of property 
 or possession ,• and it is, therefore, with great propriety, 
 called the possessive case. The appellation, genitive 
 case, is sometimes applied to it; but the force of the 
 Greek and Latin genitive is to denote relation in gene- 
 ral, though capable of specific application, and is exactly 
 equivalent to a noun preceded by of. The possessive case 
 of a noun is not equivalent to the noun preceded by of, 
 except where the latter has the specific force of belong- 
 ing to. It may in all cases be represented by of with 
 the noun following ; but the latter mode of expression 
 cannot in many instances be represented by the posses- 
 sive case." For the purpose of ascertaining the value of 
 these objections, let us view them separately. With 
 respect to the variation of our nouns as being confined 
 to mark one relation, viz. that of property or possession, 
 it may be said that in the part of speech, father 's, is 
 contained the force of two nouns differing in significa- 
 tion, with the sign of between them. Whose advice is it ? 
 a father's. The answer comprehends the second noun, 
 advice. A father's advice. The answer, therefore, might 
 have been given thus — The advice of a father. And this 
 accords with the affirmation of Dr. Crombie, that " The 
 relation which the English genitive most commonly de- 
 notes, is that of property or possession." * It has been 
 
 * " The nature of the relation, which the genitive expresses," says 
 the same grammarian, " must, in some instances, be collected from the 
 scope of the context ; for, in English, as in most other languages, this 
 rase frequently involves an ambiguity. When I say, 'neither life nor 
 death shall separate us from the love of God/ it may mean, either from 
 the love which we owe to God, or the love which he bears to us ; for 
 dod'n love may denote either the relation which the affection bears to its 
 subject, or that which it bears to its object. If the latter be the mean- 
 ing intended, the ambiguity may be prevented by saying, ' love to God.' 
 
64< anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 remarked by the late Walker {Grammar: page 10) 
 " that the double genitive is an advantage peculiar to 
 our language." But in this, it seems, he was mistaken : 
 the German language has this advantage. " The Latins," 
 says Walker, "can only say, corona regis,* and the 
 French, la courronne du roi ; while the English can say, 
 either the king's crown, or the crown of the king" The 
 Germans, also, can say, Des Konigs Krone, or Die Krone 
 des Konigs* " Nor is the double genitive," continues 
 Walker, a mere idle variety; for it not unfrequently 
 indicates a very different relation of one thing to another. 
 Thus, the king's picture may mean either his property or 
 
 " An ambiguity likewise arises from it, as expressing either the rela- 
 tion of the effect to its cause, or that of the accident to its subject. * A 
 little after the reformation of Luther/ says Swift. This may import 
 either the change produced by Luther, or a change produced in him. 
 The latter indeed is properly the meaning, though not that which was 
 intended by the author. He should have said, 'the reformation by 
 Luther.' It is clear, therefore, that the relation expressed by the geni- 
 tive, is not uniformly the same, that the phrase may be interpreted 
 either in an active or passive sense. Amor Dei denotes either amor quo 
 Deus amat, or quo Deus amatur. — Reformatio Lutlceri, either qua refor- 
 inavit, or qua re/ormatus est. Injuria patris, desiderium amici, with many 
 other examples, which might be produced, have either an active or 
 passive sense : t) aydirrj r« 6t«, Vamore di Dio, Vamour de Dieu, seve- 
 rally involve the same ambiguity with f the love of God.' The real im- 
 port must be collected, not from the expression, but the context." — 
 Rev. Dr. (Jrombie's Treatise on Etymology and Syntax, &c. page 45. 
 
 * The Latins might have used one of their possessive adjectives : 
 " Corona regia." Thus Ovid — 
 
 Nomine in Hectoreo pallida semper eram— 
 
 I was always pale at Hector's name, or the name of Hector. 
 
 This construction is very frequent among the poets ; it does not, how- 
 ever, invalidate the remark of Walker. Corona Regia, strictly speak- 
 ing, means kingly-crown, and " Nomine in Hectoreo" means, at the Hee- 
 tor-name, or the Hectorean name. Thus, in English, we say, on a 
 spring-morning, or spring's morning, or morning of spring; — at the cot- 
 tage-door; i. e. the cottage's door, or the door of the cottage. This pro- 
 cedure proves, that we have the possessive adjective besides the double 
 genitive, mentioned by Walker. Vide page 66 of this Treatise. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 65 
 
 his likeness; but, the picture of the king can mean only 
 the likeness of the king." 
 
 With respect to the general force and relationship of 
 the Greek and Latin genitive, it may be affirmed, that 
 all individual parts of speech have general relations and 
 significations ; therefore, magistri, independently of any 
 other part of speech, carries with it a general significa- 
 tion; but it is to be added, that magistri, and every 
 other genitive (including under the term the Greek ap- 
 pellation, ittwis yaw) is always used in discourse in 
 connexion with another noun, either expressed or un- 
 derstood; consequently, the genitive in Latin, as in 
 English, is capable of specific application. The opinion 
 that the Greek and Latin genitive is exactly equivalent 
 to a noun in English, preceded by of, appears to be in- 
 correct. Unless of be immediately preceded by another 
 substantive of different meaning, expressed or under- 
 stood, it has not the force of a Latin genitive. A single 
 sentence will prove it. I spoke of a master ; that is, the 
 ablative de, of or concerning a master : de magistro. In 
 this instance, therefore, of a master is not equivalent to 
 the Greek and Latin genitive. 
 
 Independently of this inaccurate application of the 
 preposition of, grammarians, in general, seem to have 
 entertained but a very erroneous notion of the English 
 genitive. They have found it difficult to trace always 
 the common relation of belonging between one noun and 
 another, and have hence concluded that the Latin geni- 
 tive-relation of belonging does not actually exist in our 
 language. The difficulty, I conceive, would, in a great 
 measure, be removed, were we to attend more closely to 
 the procedure of language, and to observe its changes 
 as corresponding with the progress and modification of 
 
66 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 thought. Let us conceive two nouns of different signi- 
 fications, not separated by the sign of; as the cottage 
 door : the former has assumed the nature of an adjec- 
 tive; but if these words were turned into Latin, the 
 English adjective noun would be expressed by a noun 
 in the genitive case : ostium casce. In Latin, there is no 
 adjective to correspond with the English word whicli 
 has assumed the nature of an adjective. The procedure 
 proves, that an English noun, followed immediately by 
 another noun of different signification, is exactly equiva- 
 lent to a Latin genitive. The cottage door means, there- 
 fore, the cottage's door, or the door of the cottage, A 
 spring morning signifies a morning of spring, or a spring's 
 morning : an autumn morning signifies a morning of au- 
 tumn, or autumn's morning. Autumn's morning, and 
 sjrring's morning, sound harshly; whereas the same 
 words, s and the apostrophe being omitted, do not have 
 the same effect; an autumn 7norning, a spring morning. 
 Winter's morning and su?nmer's morning are familiar 
 to the ear ; which prove the procedure of language, in 
 this particular, to be what has been here stated. The 
 former of two nouns not separated by the sign of, as the 
 cottage door, was, without doubt, originally of the geni- 
 tive or possessive case, with an apostrophe and 5 pre- 
 fixed.* Which or whose door is this ? the cottage's, i. e. 
 the cottage's door, or cottage door. According to ety- 
 mologists, if the preposition of is derived from the Anglo- 
 Saxon substantive afoi'a, signifying offspring, &c. it is 
 easy to conceive, that of, in all phrases like the following, 
 implies the meaning of having, possessing, exemplifying, 
 exhibiting, &c. Thus : " A man of honourable con- 
 
 * It might, perhaps, be more correct to say, the ancient Saxon geni- 
 tive termination es, i. e. without an apostrophe. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. G7 
 
 duct," This phrase signifies " A man exemplifying or 
 exhibiting honourable conduct." Here honourable is 
 derived from the noun honour, and exemplifying or exhi- 
 biting is a translated form of having or possessing, and is 
 of a more active signification than the primitive afora or 
 offspring. " The man exhibits honourable actions :" 
 i. e. the man, having, or possessing honour (honourable 
 feeling) exhibits the actions of honour, or honourable 
 actions. The truth is, the process of language is ex- 
 ceedingly simple ; and may be resolved upon very easy 
 principles : if, therefore, we wish to overcome difficulties, 
 we must proceed upon first principles, and be content 
 to reason like children. 
 
 Now let us transcribe what the authors of the Eton 
 Grammar have said of Latin nouns, in reference to those 
 in English. " The nominative case cometh before the 
 verb, and answereth to the question who ? or what ? as 
 who teaches ? Magister docet, the master teaches." Here 
 we perceive, that a direct application of the English 
 grammar, upon the Latin plan, is made; and it must 
 appear to every one, that the reference is just. Hence 
 the propriety of the juvenile student's studying the 
 English grammar as preparatory to that of the Latin, 
 " The genitive case is known by the sign of, and answer- 
 eth to the question whose ? or xvhereqfP as whose learn- 
 ing ? doctrina magistri, the learning of the master, or 
 the master's learning." The definition of the genitive is 
 not so accurate as its exemplification. It ought to hav^ 
 been expressed thus : The genitive case is known by the 
 sign of placed between two substantives, in English, of 
 different significations, the latter of which when it an- 
 swers to the question whose, &c. The definition would 
 then correspond with, Qiium duo substantia diversce 
 
 f2 
 
68 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 significationis, &c. " The dative case," says the Eton 
 Grammar, U is known by the signs to or for, and an- 
 swereth to the question to whom P or to or for what ? 
 as to whom do I give the book ? Do librum magistro, I 
 give the book to the master." Here again it is presumed, 
 that the student knows something of the English gram- 
 mar : and the resemblance between the two languages is 
 signified : nor can the resemblance be disputed : " The 
 accusative followeth the verb, and answereth, to the 
 question whom ? or what ? whom do you love ? Amo 
 magistrum, I love the master," Here the authors of the 
 Eton Grammar have endeavoured to shew the analogy 
 which subsists between the English part of speech master, 
 in point of meaning or power, and magistrum. In Eng- 
 lish, the construction of the sentence is the only guide to 
 distinguish the accusative from the nominative noun : 
 and this same remark applies to all nerfter Latin nouns, 
 singular and plural, and the plurals of the third and 
 fourth declensions, &c. If case, therefore, should be said 
 to mean " the falling off from the nominative," certainly 
 these Latin accusatives are not cases. 
 
 " The vocative case is known by calling or speaking 
 to ; as O magister, O master." Here the two languages 
 are completely analogous. " The ablative is known by 
 prepositions, expressed or understood, serving to the 
 ablative case ,* as de magistro, of the master ; coram ma- 
 gistro, before the master." " Also the prepositions in, 
 with, from, by ; and the word than, after the comparative 
 degree, are signs of the ablative case."* 
 
 * By availing each of their native tongue as a vehicle to the Latin, 
 Priscian taught Latin to the Greeks, and x\lvarus to the Italians. And 
 though we have never proceeded systematically upon this plan with our 
 children, yet that we should do so, may appear, not ©nly from the ex- 
 
AN INOUIRY, &C €9 
 
 It must appear exceedingly evident, I conceive, to 
 those who will take the trouble of examining thoroughly 
 the plan of the Eton Grammar, that the authors have 
 proceeded upon the supposition, that the Latin language 
 can be taught in connexion with the English : and upon 
 this principle the author of every Latin grammar has 
 proceeded. The question, therefore, is — whether it is 
 more philosophical, and more convenient for the classical 
 student, that certain verbs should be said to govern 
 nouns by the force of prepositions, or whether those 
 nouns should be said to be governed entirely by prepo- 
 sitions. With regard to the prepositions, which the 
 Eton Grammar affirms to be the signs of the respective 
 cases, not one of them has an accent ; and, though each 
 of them on paper stands detached, every one of these 
 prepositions is joined to the noun, and is actually pro- 
 nounced with the article and the noun as one word. 
 This will be best understood by a paradigm. 
 
 Magistri, Masters. 
 
 Magistrorum, Ofmasters, &c. 
 N.B. In the plural, nouns are 
 not declined with the indefinite 
 article : but those which are de- 
 clined with the definite article, re- 
 tain it in the plural. 
 
 In pronouncing the declensions, both men and boys 
 are accustomed (whether correctly or not, it is not requi- 
 site here to determine) to accentuate those syllables 
 
 traordinary aptitude of om particles to the Latin governments, but more 
 especially from this consideration, that whether we will deign pro- 
 fessedly to teach them through the medium of our particles or no, it is 
 actually through that medium we do teach them ; for during the early 
 years of their tuition they can learn in no other way: With Lilly's 
 three hundred Rules and Exceptions upon their tongue, it is to andJby 
 our particles alone they make mental application, — Rev. Richard Lyne's 
 Latin Grammar; Preface. 
 
 Magister, 
 
 Amaster. 
 
 Magistri, 
 
 Ofamaster. 
 
 Magistro, 
 
 Toamaster. 
 
 Magistrum, 
 
 Amaster. 
 
 Magister, 
 
 Omaster. 
 
 Magistro, 
 
 Byamaster. 
 
70 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 which mark the contradistinctions of cases: they say 
 magistri, magistrb, &c. and of a master, to a master, &c. ; 
 when they read sentences, they accentuate differently. 
 In speaking and reading English, we say — " Follow | the 
 advice | of a master." It is evident here, that the 
 article is joined to advice, that the preposition and article 
 are joined to master, and also, that the verb and nouns 
 only have accents. " I gave it | to a master." The 
 same remarks apply again. 
 
 The accusative and nominative are alike, and have 
 been before explained. The vocative, leaving out the 
 o, is different from the nominative, because it has not 
 an article. 
 
 And thus stands the accentuation of the ablative. " It 
 was spoken | by a master." 
 
 All the plurals might of course be exemplified in the 
 same way. 
 
 Possibly, the reader will anticipate what I am now 
 going to advance : if custom would authorise the joining 
 of English prepositions to nouns, on paper, in the way 
 which I have shewn them to be actually joined by the 
 voice in pronunciation and in reading, then the analogy 
 between English and Latin nouns would be more easily 
 recognized: it would be plainly understood, that the 
 inflexions of English nouns are at the beginning of them ; 
 those of the Latin nouns, at the end. Instead, there- 
 fore, of saying a master of, or a master to, corresponding 
 with the order of the inflexion in Latin nouns, we say 
 of a master, to a master, &c. This candidly acknow- 
 ledged to be the true state of the question, there is no 
 plausible reason remaining, why the English grammar, 
 as far as nouns are concerned, should not be systematized 
 according to the Eton plan. With respect to the thirty 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. " 71 
 
 cases corresponding to the number of prepositions, men- 
 tioned by the objectors, the same argument would apply 
 to the Latin. The following prepositions are succeeded 
 by the Latin accusative, including of course all neuter 
 ?iou?is, &c. and these are like the nominative. Ad, ad- 
 versum, adversus, ante, apud, circa, circum, circiter, cis, 
 citra, contra, erga, extra, infra, inter, intra, juxta, ob, 
 penes, per, pone, post, prater, prope, propter, secundum, 
 secus, supra, trans, versus, ultra, usque. In Latin, these 
 are affirmed to govern a neuter accusative, and the accu- 
 sative plural of the third and fourth declensions; why 
 should they not be permitted to have the like power in 
 the government of English accusatives ? The same may 
 be remarked of those prepositions which have an ablative 
 case after them. A, ab, abs, absque, coram, cum, de, e, 
 ex, palam, prcc, pro, sine, tenus, and also of those which 
 serve to both cases. Clam, in for into, in for in only, 
 sub, subter, super. My reason for citing the prepositions 
 at length is to shew that the argument against the appel- 
 lation of case, on account of the number of them, is not 
 more objectionable in English than in Latin: and I 
 cannot perceive any reasonable objection, why we should 
 admit that nouns in English are governed in particular 
 cases by the assistance or force of these prepositions. In 
 the list of the Latin prepositions may be seen some few, 
 which require two or three parts of speech to English 
 them. Ob, because of, penes, in the power of, prope, 
 near to, secundum, according to, trans, on the farther 
 side, ex, out of, tenus, up to, as far as, clam, unknown to. 
 It is evident that every one of these phrases has the force 
 of a preposition ; and, also, that most of them should, 
 in English, be parsed as prepositions; viz. because of, 
 
72 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 near to, according to,* out of, as far as — assisting the verb 
 in the government of either the accusative or ablative 
 case. 
 
 To what has been already said respecting the verb, 
 little needs be added. It is generally admitted, that with 
 the help of auxiliaries, or signs of tenses, the English 
 verb corresponds pi*etty closely with the Latin. The 
 imperative, strictly speaking, has only one person ; and 
 here the English language, most unquestionably, has an 
 advantage over the Greek and Latin. " Let me go, or 
 let thou me to go ; go, or go thou ; let him go, or let thou 
 him to go ; let us go, or let ye us to go ; go, or go ye ; let 
 them go, or let ye them to go." 
 
 Every person of a verb in Latin, of any tense and 
 mood, requires in English two or more parts of speech 
 to express its meaning, and yet these English parts of 
 speech are joined together in pronunciation, and have 
 only one accent. Thus, monui may signify, / have ad- 
 vised him ; representing to us four separate English parts 
 of speech; but in pronouncing them, the parts of speech 
 are united, and are recognized by the ear as one word, 
 with the accent on the penultimate syllable. / have ad- 
 Vised him. In parsing, therefore, the verb of this sen- 
 tence, / have advised him, it would not be inconvenient, 
 I conceive, to call have a sign of the preter or perfect 
 tense, and " have advised" taken together, a verb. The 
 same remarks are applicable to all the rest of the persons 
 and tenses of English verbs. 
 
 With regard to the construction of sentences, there 
 are certain rules which hold good in all languages. 
 
 * "According £:>/' will be found in Johnson's Dictionary as a prepo- 
 sition. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 73 
 
 " The verb agrees with its nominative case in number 
 and person : when two verbs come together, the latter h 
 in the infinitive mood : the verb to be has the same case 
 after it that goes before it : the relative agrees with the 
 antecedent in gender, number, and person ; — and a few 
 others. These rules, which are in all languages, and in 
 the nature of things, are very different from that govern- 
 ment of words peculiar to the Greek and Latin lan- 
 guages ; in the former of which a neuter, and sometimes 
 a masculine or feminine substantive in the plural num- 
 ber, requires a verb singular ; and in the latter, not only 
 adjectives, but adverbs and interjections govern the cases 
 of nouns. The case absolute in the Latin is the ablative; 
 in the Greek, the genitive; and in English, the nomi- 
 native. It would, therefore, be the height of absurdity 
 to follow the syntax of these languages, any farther than 
 they follow the syntax of all other languages; and in 
 these, if we adopt the same terms, it is because they are 
 more universally known than any other." These out- 
 lines the author* did not judiciously fill up: but the 
 deficiencies might be easily supplied by the aid of the 
 valuable syntax and remarks of the Rev. Dr. Crombie. 
 
 Most persons, it is presumed, will be ready to admit, 
 that, in the lower schools, where the classics are not 
 studied by the pupils, the arrangement of our present 
 English grammars will answer most common purposes, 
 and, as far as they proceed, be more easy of compre- 
 hension than one formed upon the plan of the Eton 
 Latin Grammar. But it is also to be admitted, that the 
 term " easy" is only of comparative signification ; for it 
 l>as not been presumed, that so philosophic a know- 
 
 * Walker. 
 
74 ANTI-SCEPTICISM ; OR, 
 
 ledge of language can be obtained by the plan of Dr. 
 Ash, Dr. Lowth, or Mr. L. Murray, as by the plan of 
 that which has been just named. The present mode of 
 teaching the grammar of our vernacular language is 
 easy in the same degree, as the present method of teach- 
 ing Latin prosody is easy; viz. the custom of pro- 
 nouncing the penultimate vowel long of all Latin words 
 of two syllables, and one consonant in the middle, with- 
 out any regard to quantity; and the custom of pro- 
 nouncing the antepenultimate vowel short of all Latin 
 words of three syllables, followed by a single consonant, 
 without any regard to quantity: thus, the genitive sin- 
 gular of rex, and the second person singular of the pre- 
 sent tense of Rego, are both pronounced alike: i. e. 
 long; Regis : though every little boy in the second form is 
 able to tell the master, that the penultimate vowel of the 
 former is long, and that of the latter is short : and on 
 the other hand, the antepenultimate vowel of regibus is 
 pronounced exactly the same as that of the infinitive of 
 rego, though the vowel in regibus is long, and that in 
 regere is short. These anomalous methods of pro- 
 nouncing the penultimate and antepenultimate vowels, 
 bucceeded by one consonant, are almost uniformly 
 adopted and patronized in our public schools ; and thus 
 the eye and the ear are constantly at variance.* It is 
 repeated that the present method of teaching English 
 grammar is easy in the same degree as the present 
 method of teaching Latin prosody is easy ; either is only 
 of comparative utility. 
 
 * A reformation in this particular is now being effected in some of 
 our schools. I believe I am authorised in saying, that it receives the 
 powerful sanction of Dr, Russell, head master of the Charter-House. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 75 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Sentences— the opinion that every sentence is a factitious word contro- 
 verted — Burke — the unity essential to a thinking being is not requi- 
 site to the operations of a thinking being — ellipsis of the verb " to 
 be" — sentences of childhood — opinion that the imperatives, go, hark, 
 &c. are virtual sentences — this opinion controverted — order of words 
 analogous to the operations of intellect— elucidations — and conclusion 
 of the argument. 
 
 .HERE we might proceed to discuss other subjects, 
 and to reflect upon the changes and diversities of lan- 
 guage ; but, prior to this, it seems requisite to say a few 
 words concerning the construction of sentences as con- 
 nected with the progress of intellect. 
 
 In a work which is already before the public, I have 
 adopted the analytical arrangement of the compact and 
 loose sentences of Walker ; from what has been advanced 
 in this Treatise, it will be seen that I have not had oc^ 
 casion to alter the opinion. The conceptions, which my 
 inquiries have led me to adopt respecting language, still 
 continue to be precisely the same as those of Walker, 
 and, consequently, different from the opinions of any 
 writer, " whose views of the nature of language" have 
 disposed him to regard every sentence as forming "a 
 factitious word." In unison with this latter opinion, I 
 have lately read, "that if language, in its progress 
 towards perfection, could have proceeded on the pattern 
 of nature, it must have invented a word for every sen- 
 timent that was to be expressed, which word would 
 have been proper for that sentiment, and for none other." 
 On another occasion, the same writer, I believe, main- 
 tains that " the words composing any sentence are on 
 the footing of letters composing a word. The two cases 
 
76 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 would indeed be exactly parallel," says the writer, " were 
 every person allowed to follow his own fancy in the 
 spelling of words ; but the rules of orthography are 
 fixed, and they alone spell correctly, who spell in one 
 particular way. But in the spelling of his thoughts by 
 words, every person is allowed to follow his own method." 
 This is fortunate : but if I might be permitted to pro- 
 pose a question, I should ask " whose method else could 
 he follow?" Hortensius would tell us that few can 
 examine into the nature of their thoughts ; and that even 
 in the use of instituted language, men frequently make 
 use of words without any clear, correspondent ideas at- 
 tached to them : disputation or confusion is the result. 
 But it will be retorted, that " an apparatus that requires 
 and implies so much art in the management, little ac- 
 cords, on many occasions, with the fervour and rapidity 
 of our thoughts. If the passion is violent, we give it 
 vent in short abrupt sentences, which, from constant use, 
 suggest themselves as readily as the language of nature ; 
 still they are far from being adequate to our purpose, 
 because they exhibit the circumstances by which we are 
 influenced only by starts and fits; we want the one 
 word that shall lay bare the mind in a moment ; but it 
 cannot be found, and we have only to avail ourselves of 
 the best means in our power to supply its place." It is 
 difficult to conceive, how, upon such a notion of lan- 
 guage and thought as these extracts convey, a theory of 
 elocution should have been formed : that such an attempt, 
 however, has been made, will appear from the following 
 compendium : — " A sentence, in point of expression, is 
 but a single word, the parts of which it is composed 
 being merely grammatical divisions, more or less closely 
 connected in this respect, but not at all related to any 
 
AN INQUIHY, SCC. 71 
 
 correspondent division in the thought, which, in their 
 united capacity, they serve to express. As to pronun- 
 ciation, therefore, we may expect that a sentence will be 
 liable to the same affections as a single, independent 
 word, and, making the necessary allowances of length, 
 this will be found universally the case." Admitting, for 
 one moment, the former theory to be sound, an appli- 
 cation of it to the rules of pronunciation and delivery, is 
 altogether out of the question. There is not, in my 
 opinion, the slightest analogy whatever between the pro- 
 nunciation or expression of an individual part of speech, 
 and the various characters of the voice, its respirations, 
 breaks, and pauses, in the utterance of a sentence : and 
 the truth of this position more strongly appears, when we 
 take into consideration the nature of some of the promi- 
 nent tropes and figures in rhetoric as blended with the 
 oratorical delivery of a sentence. A discussion of these 
 points, however, does not belong to the object of this 
 Treatise ; at present I shall merely confine myself to the 
 former theory, promising to recur to the points connected 
 with elocution at some future period. 
 
 The five elementary parts of speech clearly elucidate 
 the essential principles of grammar. But these elements, 
 placed in their analogous order, relate only to simple 
 thoughts, and simple individual propositions. It has 
 been shewn, that when we proceed to reason on the 
 simple proposition, the order of words is, in some 
 measure, broken ; and supernumerary particles are then 
 adopted, to connect and unite words into another form 
 of phraseology : of which parts of speech, the adjective, 
 the substantive, and the verb, grammarians regulate and 
 form into sentences, by the two general rules of concord 
 and government. These, I have endeavoured to' prove, 
 
78 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 may, with the greatest propriety, be modelled on the 
 prominent principles of the Eton Latin Grammar. 
 
 Each sort of sentence, strictly speaking, conveys only 
 one thought : but the procedure of language in express- 
 ing thought is exceedingly varied. " A man seldom 
 detects a pleasing error." We perceive, that the exam- 
 ple, placed within the signs of quotation, conveys to the 
 mind but one thought. If the example be altered thus : 
 " A man never detects a pleasing error," the logical de- 
 duction of the proposition appears false or doubtful, and 
 the qualifying clause, " till reflexion operates," is requi- 
 site to be added, that the thought may be rendered just 
 and true. The following example conveys one thought 
 only, but two efforts of the mind are requisite to com- 
 plete it. " There is a vigilance of observation, and ac- 
 curacy of distinction, which books and precepts cannot 
 confer; and from this, almost all original and native 
 excellence proceeds." The construction may be so 
 altered, as shall enable one effort of the mind to compre- 
 hend and complete the whole sentence. "Almost all 
 original and native excellence proceeds from a certain 
 vigilance of observation and accuracy of distinction, 
 which books and precepts cannot confer." These two 
 or three examples prove how very various is the pro- 
 cedure of language in the communication of thought. 
 " There are but few men," says the writer Hortensius,* 
 " who are masters of the tongue they daily use, and 
 fewer still who can give a rational account of their own 
 thoughts : they cannot examine into the nature of their 
 thoughts, for it is not in their power to unravel them. 
 Hence the frequent use they make of words without any 
 
 * Deinology : or the Union of Reason and Elegance ; by Hortensius ; 
 page W8 : published 1T89, by Robinson and Co. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &c. 79 
 
 clear, correspondent ideas attached to them ; or if they 
 have a clear idea of an object, they are at a loss for the 
 true term that expresses it. Their meaning is guessed 
 at and generally mistaken ; disputation ensues, and the 
 result is confusion." And yet another writer conceives, 
 that our thoughts are of so determined a character, as 
 that the natural expression of any individual thought is 
 capable of being identified with the utterance of a single 
 word. But strange as it may probably appear to an 
 individual entertaining such a doctrine, the author of 
 the Sublime and Beautiful was of opinion, " that we are 
 often at a loss to know what ideas we have of things, or 
 whether we have any ideas at all upon some subjects." 
 It is nevertheless to be admitted, that every separate 
 word, as it stands united with others in a sentence, does 
 not of itself convey a definite meaning. Nor do the five 
 elementary parts of speech, used collectively and in their 
 analogous order, convey a definite signification : they 
 require restrictive particles and relatives to limit the sum 
 total of thought. This also was well understood by 
 Burke : and he expressed himself in such a manner, that 
 few could fail of interpreting his meaning : — Ci It is im- 
 possible," says he, " in the rapidity and quick succession 
 of words in conversation, to have ideas both of the sound 
 of the word, and of the thing represented ; besides, some 
 words, expressing real essences, are so mixed with others 
 of a general and nominal import, that it is impracticable 
 to jump from sense to thought, from particulars to gene- 
 rals, from things to words, in such a manner as to an- 
 swer the purposes of life: nor is it necessary that we 
 should." Part 5, sec. 5, Sublime and Beautiful.— 
 And yet, with great judgment, the same writer has af- 
 firmed, " that it is hard to repeat certain words, though 
 
80 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 owned by themselves unoperative, without being in some 
 degree affected, especially if a warm and affecting voice 
 accompanies them; as suppose wise, valiant, generous, 
 good, and great. These words, by having no applica- 
 tion, ought to be unoperative; but when words com- 
 monly sacred to great occasions are used, we are affected 
 by them, even without the occasion. When words, 
 which have been generally so applied, are put together 
 without any rational view, or in such a manner, that 
 they do not rightly agree with each other, the style is 
 called bombast. And it requires, in several cases, much 
 good sense and experience to be guarded against the 
 force of such language ; for when propriety is neglected, 
 a greater number of these affecting words may be taken 
 into the service, and a greater variety may be indulged 
 in combining them." Sublime and Beautiful, part 
 the 5th, sec. 3. 
 
 The soul of man is essentially indivisible; and al- 
 though it is endued with distinct faculties, yet, as we 
 have before said, there is no absolute division in the soul 
 itself, for it is the whole soul that wills, thinks, or re- 
 members. " No man," says the author of the Remarks 
 on Scepticism, " can think in two separate places at the 
 same time; nor again, is his consciousness made up of 
 a number of separate consciousnesses ; as the solidity, 
 the colour, and motion of the whole body is made up of 
 the distinct solidities, colours, and motions of its parts." 
 Remarks on Scepticism, page 89. — The unity which is 
 essential to a thinking being, forms a very principal argu- 
 ment against the absurd doctrines of materialism. But 
 this unity is not essentially requisite to the operations 
 of a thinking being. We are not acquainted with the 
 precise boundaries of the operations of intellect ; neither 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. X^Llf^F' 
 
 do we know at all times, the actual limits nor exteiisive- 
 ness of any one of our individual thoughts. The fact is, 
 generally speaking, we hardly know what our thoughts 
 are ; at least, all that we know of them is by parts ; and 
 if we happen to be blinded by either appetite or passion, 
 we know not even the good or evil tendency of any one 
 particular thought. If these premises be granted, it will 
 then unquestionably follow, that the vocal expression of 
 intellect must be composed of parts, to correspond with 
 the progress and completion of thought, and that a 
 single word would be altogether inadequate for the pur- 
 pose. But it has been already said that the mere naming 
 of an object amounts to no one part of intellect or 
 thought, or the expression of it ; the thing must be said 
 to live ; it must be affirmed to have or have not existence ; 
 language must give or deny it being, acting, or suffer- 
 ance ; and it is not in the power of one single external 
 sign to effect this: further, to effect the most simple 
 purposes of communication, another sign must be em- 
 ployed, either expressed or understood. It is to be here 
 noticed, that the writer whose singular opinions I am 
 now opposing, affirms, that " the verb is itself a sen- 
 tence, as are the imperatives go, come, forbear, hark J 
 hist/" &c. " that it is the only part of speech which is 
 capable, on occasion, of being by itself a word" (sen- 
 tence). Without resting on the authority of gram- 
 marians, who say, that the imperative mood is nothing 
 more nor less than the simple verbal name, unattended 
 with the inference of affirmation — and that if we say to 
 a servant " Bread, or bring some bread," nothing more is 
 intended than that we wish him to bring us bread, — the 
 object only being named iu the first instance, and the 
 name of the action as well as the object, in the second ; — 
 
82 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 I say, without resting on nice philological distinctions, it 
 is merely requisite to state, that the individual parts of 
 speech, bread! as in the above instance, silence! order ! 
 &c. and vocative cases, especially as in calling a servant, 
 Thomas! John! &c. are all as much sentences as the 
 imperatives go, come, &c. " In order to suit the pur- 
 poses of speech, the verb," it is said, " is made capable 
 of being less comprehensive, and instead of being itself a 
 sentence, it can, when necessary, be a mere sign to indi- 
 cate a sentence." In the examples, " George is tall, 
 George is walking, the artificial verb," it is added, 
 " merely indicates that a thought or judgment is ex- 
 pressed ; for the phrases tall Geoige and George walkings 
 sufficiently designate the objects conceived, and it is 
 only the absence of the artificial verb, that forbids them 
 to be understood as sentences." The general tenour of 
 this remark applies only to the construction of English ; 
 and not to the nature and philosophy of language in 
 general,. It may, notwithstanding, be remarked, that 
 tall George and George walking are not analogous terms ; 
 walking George would be analogous, in construction, 
 to the term tall George. Tall George is a mere name, 
 and nothing else; but George w t alking, I apprehend, is 
 something more. The participial adjective following 
 the noun, the order is not the English order. Some- 
 thing appears to be affirmed of George, viz. that he is 
 walking. Little children uniformly leave out the verb 
 in their first attempts to unite words in a sentence. 
 " George walking, mamma ;" and this sentence, I conceive, 
 every parent would understand. This exactly accords 
 with the idiomatic construction of Greek and Latin, and 
 particularly with that of the Hebrew language. Indeed, 
 as the compilers of Systematic Education have remarked, 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C 83 
 
 " The connecting link in language needs not always be 
 stated. In the infancy of language it could not exist : 
 and in the language of childhood it does not exist. 
 Words are joined together, and it is easily understood, 
 that the corresponding ideas are connected in the mind. 
 1 Mother milk good,' would surely be understood by 
 any one ; and, in similar cases, depending upon the case 
 of inference, the ancient writers left it to the mind of the 
 reader to form it for himself." But it is asserted, that 
 " without the aid of a verb, the word (sentence) cannot 
 be formed," and that the verb is " the only part of speech 
 which is capable, on occasion, of being by itself a word" 
 (sentence). " Mr. Speaker ! My Lord and Gentlemen of 
 the Jury /" Each of these phrases is elliptical, and each 
 may be called a virtual sentence — more so, I am in- 
 clined to think, than the imperatives, go, come, &c. 
 Sentences of this sort are exceedingly common in the 
 Hebrew construction. The scholar needs not be told, 
 that the ellipsis of the verb to be occurs continually in 
 the Greek and Latin languages : in the Hebrew writings 
 it is observable almost in every verse. " Howl, O gate, 
 cry, O city; thou whole Palestina (art) dissolved; for 
 there shall come from the north a smoke, and none 
 (shall be) alone in his appointed times." Isaiah 14. — 
 " In God (is) my salvation and my glory ; the rock of 
 my strength (and) my refuge (is) in God. Trust in him 
 at all times ; ye people, pour out your heart before him : 
 God (is) a refuge for us. Surely men of low degree 
 (are) vanity, (and) men of high degree (are) a lie : to be 
 laid in the balance, they (are) altogether (lighter) than 
 vanity." Ps. 62. — But there are ellipses in the sacred 
 writings more striking than these: viz. as in the first 
 four verses of the Proverbs, and Psalm 109 and 4th verse. 
 
 g2 
 
8* anti-scepticism; ok, 
 
 " The Proverbs of Solomon, the son of David, king- 
 of Israel ; 
 
 To know wisdom and instruction* to perceive the 
 words of understanding ; 
 
 , To receive the instruction of wisdom, justice, and 
 judgment, and equity ; 
 
 To give subtilty to the simple, to the young man 
 knowledge and discretion." 
 
 In these four verses the principal verb or sign of 
 affirmation is not, even in our translation, expressed, 
 but understood. The ellipsis in the fourth verse of the 
 109th Psalm is exceedingly striking: — " I (give myself 
 unto) prayer." 
 
 "We have before stated, that every separate word, as it 
 stands connected with others in a sentence, does not of 
 itself convey a definite meaning; but it is not to be 
 understood, that the general order of each word in a 
 sentence is dissimilar to the order and progress of every 
 operation or act in the thought; for this would be to 
 destroy all analogy whatever, and all grammatical con- 
 struction. Still, possibly, it may be again said, that a 
 thought is one ; that there is no division in a thought, 
 nor is a thought capable of being divided. What, 
 therefore, cannot be divided, must not be said to have 
 parts. It is one* Without recurring to what has been 
 before advanced on the unity of a thinking being, and, on 
 the other hand, on our total incompetency oftentimes to 
 examine into the nature of our thoughts, we will endea- 
 vour to prove at once, by actual experiment, that all 
 which we can know of the growth and progress of the 
 mind, is by calmly attending to its incessant operations 
 while it is developing and expressing the limits or ex- 
 tensiveness of an individual thought, as set forth in a 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 85 
 
 sentence. Let us begin with the following example: — 
 " The men who can be charged with the fewest failings, 
 are generally most ready to make allowances for them." 
 That the inference intended to be drawn from this as- 
 semblage of words may be perfectly understood, we will 
 attach a definite signification to the part of speech 
 "failings" limiting the meaning of it to that of virtue. 
 This sentence then, so restricted, is acknowledged to 
 express the precise and actual thought of the speaker. 
 Now, then, let us imagine the speaker as beginning to 
 express this actual thought, this thought not to be di- 
 vided ; this thought which positively exists in his mind 
 at the moment of commencing the sentence. " The 
 men who can be charged with the fewest failings" — at 
 the very instant of pronouncing the part of speech 
 "failings" the thought of the speaker, which, in the 
 first instance, was limited, now becomes general ; i. e. 
 failings either isoith respect to abilities or virtue : the sen- 
 tence, or expression of the thought, now stands thus : — 
 " The men who can be charged with the fewest failings, 
 either with respect to abilities or virtue, are generally 
 most ready to make allowances for them." As another 
 example, let us take the following sentence : — 
 
 " Criticism, though dignified from the earliest ages by 
 the labours of men eminent for knowledge and sagacity, 
 and since the revival of polite literature, the favourite 
 study of European scholars, has not yet attained the 
 certainty and stability of science." The substance of 
 the original thought is evidently contained in the follow- 
 ing reduced form : — " Criticism has not yet attained the 
 certainty and stability of science." But at the instant of 
 pronouncing the word " criticism?* the thought of the 
 speaker is augmented ; " though dignified from the 
 
86 ANTI-SCEPTICISM? *)R, 
 
 earliest ages by the labours of men eminent for know* 
 ledge and sagacity:" and in pronouncing the words 
 " earliest ages," or some word in the latter part of the 
 same clause, the succeeding clause is suggested to the 
 speaker's mind: viz. "and since the revival of polite 
 literature, the favourite study of European scholars." 
 The following arrangement of words in the writings of 
 Lord Shaftsbury, will afford us a striking instance of 
 the progress of intellect during the utterance of a sen- 
 tence. The writer is giving advice to an author; and 
 is speaking of modern poets as compared with the an- 
 cient. " If they secretly advise, and give instruction, 
 they may be esteemed the best and most honourable 
 among men." We will suppose, as before, that at the 
 utterance of the first, syllable, these words convey the 
 sum total of a thought existing in the speaker's mind. 
 But the operations of thought are swift, like lightning : 
 during the utterance of the unaccentuated syllable, " if," 
 the clause, " while they profess only to please" suggests 
 itself. " If, while they profess only to please, they 
 secretly advise, and give instruction, they may"' — here, 
 as before, the thought receives fresh modification, " now, 
 perhaps, as well as formerly be esteemed" — The ad- 
 verbial phrase, " with justice," now occurs to the speaker's 
 mind — " with justice, the best and most honourable 
 among authors." The sentence, expressive of the thought, 
 modified and completed, stands thus : 
 
 " If, while they profess only to please, they secretly 
 advise, and give instruction, they may, now, perhaps, as 
 well as formerly, be esteemed, with justice, the best and 
 most honourable among authors." 
 
 Dr. Blair pronounces this to be a well-constructed 
 sentence, for the words seem to flow in a very perspi- 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 87 
 
 cuous and natural order : the sentence contains a great 
 many circumstances and adverbs, says Dr. Blair, which 
 are necessary to qualify the meaning; only, secretly, 
 as well, perhaps, now, with justice, formerly ; yet these are 
 placed with so much art, as neither to embarrass nor 
 weaken the sentence; while that which is the capital 
 object in it, viz. " Poets being justly esteemed the best 
 and most honourable among authors," comes out clear 
 and detached, and possesses its proper place. 
 
 Let us take another sentence, and one of different 
 construction : 
 
 •' Remember well, 
 The noble lessons by affliction taught : 
 Preserve the quick humanity it gives, 
 The pitying social sense of human weakness ; 
 Yet keep thy generous fortitude entire, 
 The manly heart, that to another's woe 
 Is tender as superior to its own." 
 
 This sentence may be viewed either as presenting one 
 entire picture of the speaker's mind, at the time when he 
 commenced the sentence, or as exhibiting the progress 
 of his mind as the sentence proceeds. In the former 
 instance, the members of the sentence would be com- 
 pletely united, and this would be indicated by the 
 speaker's utterance : that is to say, the third and fourth 
 lines would be pronounced as a concession, and the fifth 
 line as the assertion following it. According to this 
 method of interpreting the meaning of the sentence, the 
 voice would seem to connect the parts before and after 
 the concession and assertion, with as much perspicuity 
 as though the construction had been assisted by some- 
 thing like the following intervening parts of speech : — 
 
88 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 " Remember well, 
 The noble lessons by affliction taught-: 
 {that is, while you) 
 
 Preserve the quick humanity it gives, 
 The pitying, social sense of human weakness : 
 Yet (remember to) keep thy generous fortitude entire, 
 (because) The manly heart, that to another's woe 
 Is tender as superior to its own." 
 But if the sentence be viewed as exhibiting the pro- 
 gress and modification of the speaker's mind as he pro- 
 ceeds in the utterance of it, the members of the sentence 
 would be detached, and this would be signified by the 
 inflexions of the voice. Thus, the following two lines, 
 " Preserve the quick humanity it gives, 
 The pitying social sense of human weakness f\ 
 Would not be viewed as a concession, but rather as an 
 amplification of the words which they follow : viz. 
 
 " Remember well 
 The noble lessons by affliction taught :" 
 And the succeeding clause, 
 
 " Yet keep thy generous fortitude entire," 
 Would not signify an assertion ,• it would be merely an 
 addition, or correction. The concluding two lines, as- 
 sume the office of explaining the amplification and cor- 
 rection ; i. e. the lines which they immediately follow. 
 This method of reading the passage is altogether collo- 
 quial, and very unlike that which has been before ex- 
 plained. And though the procedure of thought is dif- 
 ferent, yet it may easily be perceived, that the sum total 
 of thought or meaning in either, is the same. Now let 
 it be asked, what word or i?idividual expression could 
 be adopted to correspond with this varied procedure of 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 89 
 
 thought and intellect ? It is plain that the most simple 
 sentence, whether it be affirmative or negative, cannot 
 be formed without a sign, either expressed or under- 
 stood, to signify the life and being of the substantive. 
 " The sun shines" Though the assertion in this sen- 
 tence were to be denied, the process, as far as relates to 
 the signifying of the life and being of the substantive, is 
 the same. The sun shines net. If the part of speech 
 shines be omitted, and the negation be immediately an- 
 nexed to the substantive, viz. * The sun not" and this 
 be called a sentence, the meaning would not be the 
 direct contrary of that in the former sentence, viz. 
 The sun shines, but according to the Hebrew idiom, it 
 would be reduced to — The sun is not — the simple, or 
 primitive sign of affirmation, is, being understood. In 
 the first instance of language, the primitive part of 
 speech, the substantive, was, doubtless, a virtual sen- 
 tence ; the verb, or life of the substantive, being implied 
 by gesticulation. The most simple sentence which can 
 be devised, as expressive of the most elementary thought 
 or proposition, must be composed, therefore, of at least 
 two signs or parts of speech ; that is to say, the substan- 
 tive and the verb, one of them expressed, and the other 
 either expressed or understood : it follows, that as one 
 word or individual sign, having no relation to another 
 word or sign understood, is insufficient for the purpose 
 of communicating the most elementary thought or pro- 
 position ; so one word or individual sign cannot be suf- 
 ficient for the purpose of communicating the varied pro- 
 cedure of thought and intellect, as employed in logical 
 and rhetorical science, and as exhibited in the construc- 
 tion of almost every sentence composed of alphabetic 
 
90 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 words. Here the present point of discussion ends, and 
 with it I transcribe the language of Dr. Blair : 
 
 " Did men always think clearly," says this author, 
 " and were they, at the same time, fully masters of the 
 language in which they write, they would then, of course, 
 acquire all those properties of precision, unity, and 
 strength, which are so much recommended. For we may 
 rest assured, that whenever we express ourselves ill, 
 there is, besides the mismanagement of language, for the 
 most part, some mistake in our manner of conceiving 
 the subject. Embarrassed, obscure, and feeble sen- 
 tences are generally, if not always, the result of embar- 
 rassed, obscure, and feeble thought. Thought and lan- 
 guage act and re-act upon each other mutually. Logic 
 and rhetoric have here, as in many other cases, a strict 
 connexion; and he that has learning to arrange his sen- 
 tences with accuracy and order, has learning at the same 
 time, to think with accuracy and order." 
 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 91" 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Question respecting the origin of language — was it invented by man, or 
 was it revealed to him by his Creator? — atheistical philosophy — re- 
 marks of Johnson — Selkirk — Juan Fernandez — the young man caught 
 in the woods of Hanover — in France — arguments drawn from these 
 circumstances, and from Genesis, chap.^L — the knowledge and use of 
 any language to be improved by an acquaintance with other lan- 
 guages—primitive language — the Scriptures afford the safest argu- 
 ments respecting the transmission of it — writers on this subject not 
 corresponding in their opinions — the claims of different nations — 
 Arabians — Syrians — Ethiopians — Armenians and the Jews — etymo- 
 logy of names considered — the name of Babel — and the names which 
 are assigned by Moses to eastern countries, &c. — proved by Mr. 
 Maurice to be the very names by which they were anciently known 
 over all the east. 
 
 THERE are questions yet remaining, which seem to 
 be justly related to the topics already discussed, and 
 which are closely connected with an inquiry concerning 
 the nature and philosophy of language. It is interesting 
 to know, by what means, in the first ages of the world, 
 did man learn to speak? Was language invented by 
 man, or was it revealed to him by his Creator ? Next 
 to these questions, in point of interest, is that respecting 
 the primitive language; — Has the primitive language 
 been transmitted to the latter ages, or is it extinct? In 
 pursuing these topics, we shall be naturally led to a 
 consideration of those circumstances which caused the 
 changes and the diversity of tongues. 
 
 Respecting the origin of language, there can be but 
 two opinions : either language must have been invented 
 by man, or it must have been revealed to him by his 
 Creator. 
 
 The ancient and modern professors of atheistical phi- 
 losophy represent the faculty of articulate speech, or 
 
92 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 language, as the mere instinctive expression of the wants 
 and desires of a herd of associated savages, gradually in- 
 vented for mutual convenience of communication, and 
 established by mutual consent.* But our great lexico- 
 grapher justly remarks, that "language must have come 
 by inspiration; a thousand, nay million of children, 
 could not invent a language; while the organs are 
 pliable, there is not understanding enough to form a 
 language; and by the time there is understanding 
 enough, the organs are grown stiff" This is confirmed 
 by experience. " Alexander Selkirk, when cast away 
 on the desert island of Juan Fernandez, after some 
 years' residence, almost lost the use of his native tongue. 
 The young savage, called Peter, caught in the woods of 
 Hanover several years ago, though soon tamed and re- 
 conciled to society, never could be taught to speak. 
 And lately, the young savage of Aveyron, in France, 
 though put under the care of the celebrated Sicard, 
 master of the deaf and dumb school, has never yet been 
 observed to utter an articulate sound, not even to express 
 his most urgent wants." — D'Oyly and Mant. 
 
 But that language was revealed to man by his Creator, 
 may be proved from two circumstances: 1st. Because 
 the Sacred History relates, that man exercised the fa-, 
 culty of speech in his solitary state : and 2dly. Because 
 the same history mentions, that after Eve was brought 
 to Adam, he said, "Therefore shall a man leave his 
 father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: 
 and they shall be one flesh ;" which passage signifies not 
 only that the language of Adam was revealed to him, but 
 that it must have been more copious and perfect than 
 
 * D'Oyly and Manfs Bible, 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 93 
 
 what has been generally inferred. Now we know, from the 
 instances of Selkirk, Peter the wild boy, and the young 
 savage of France, the circumstances which have been 
 recently named, that the solitary state is altogether un- 
 favourable to language ; indeed, as language is the me- 
 dium of communication, we may safely conclude, that, in 
 his solitary state, language is unnatural to man, and, 
 therefore, must have been revealed to him : and as Adam 
 from positive experience, that is, by " sensation and re- 
 flexion," could have known nothing of father and mother, 
 although he spoke of them before the birth of Cain, and 
 intimated that the ties of husband and wife would be 
 greater than the affections of children and parents, it 
 most unquestionably follows, that language was not only 
 revealed to man by his Creator, but also, that, originally, 
 it must have been more copious and perfect than is ge- 
 nerally believed. 
 
 If this conclusidn is accurate, it will, doubtless, be 
 perceived, that it is productive of many interesting ques- 
 tions : all of which would require the superior abilities 
 of the greatest metaphysicians of the day, to discuss and 
 do ample justice to them. They do not, however, be- 
 long to the present inquiry ; a circumstance exceedingly 
 fortunate to the Writer of this Treatise. 
 
 That a more correct knowledge and use of any lan- 
 guage, may, with greater facility, be accomplished by an 
 acquaintance with other languages than without them, is 
 a position invariably received by the grammarians of all 
 enlightened nations : and the advantage which is to be 
 derived in the study of English from an intimacy with 
 the Greek and Latin in particular, would be more than 
 equally obtained from an acquaintance with the primitive 
 language of mankind, were it transmitted to us. But 
 
94 ANTI-SCEPTICISM j OR, 
 
 respecting this transmission, the Scriptures, the only true 
 sources whence information of this nature is to be de- 
 rived, are altogether silent ; and the opinions and con- 
 jectures of those who have directed their attention to the 
 subject, do not, by any means, correspond with each 
 other. A few remarks, therefore, in repetition of some 
 of the popular arguments on this interesting topic, will 
 assist in rendering the succeeding considerations more 
 easily admissible, and altogether free from ambiguity. 
 
 The Arabians, the Syrians, the Ethiopians, the Ar- 
 menians, and several other nations (as well as some 
 Europeans) dispute, all in their turns, for their respective 
 languages ; but the Jews are the people who assert the 
 antiquity and excellence of theirs, with the greatest 
 warmth and vigour.* They maintain, that it was im- 
 mediately invested by God ; that he himself spoke it ; 
 for which reason it is called holy; that it is the only 
 language understood by the angels, and wherein we can 
 pray and be heard with effect; it is that wherein the 
 blessed in heaven converse, and wherein every nation, at 
 the general resurrection, shall speak. But waving these 
 fabulous notions — some authors f have maintained, that 
 the Hebrew tongue was the most ancient in the world, 
 the very same which was spoken by Adam and Noah, and 
 preserved in the family of Heber ; who formed a society 
 distinct from these, that had suffered in the confusion of 
 Babel, and so transmitted it pure to their posterity. And 
 for the confirmation of this, they produce the names and 
 etymologies of certain persons and things, which have 
 
 * F. Simon's Critical History. Buxtorf de Ling. Hebr. Orig. — 
 Stackhouse. 
 
 t Chrys. torn. 2, Homil. 30. Augustinus de Civit. Dei. Selden de 
 Syned. lib. ii. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C 9,5 
 
 some kind of affinity, and which Moses himself derives 
 from the Hebrew. 
 
 To obviate this argument, taken from the etymology 
 of names, we may observe, that those which seem to 
 agree best with the Hebrew tongue, are not so much 
 proper names, which children received at their birth, to 
 distinguish them from all other people, as they are sir- 
 ?iames, which were bestowed upon them, for some particular 
 event or accident that befel them ; that by these, they were 
 afterwards known to posterity, and so in process of time, 
 they came to be looked upon as proper names. Thus 
 Adam, for instance, is unquestionably no proper name. 
 (Le Clerc's Dissertations.) — That Adam is not a proper 
 name may be proved from the first two verses of the fifth 
 chapter of Genesis : — " This is the book of the genera- 
 tions of Adam : in the day that God created man, in the 
 likeness of God made he him. Male and female created 
 he them, and blessed them, and called their name Adam, 
 in the day when they were created." Adam, i. e. man ; 
 like homo, the common name in Latin to both sexes. 
 Adam, therefore, is certainly not a proper name, but 
 possibly, was only bestowed on the first man by way of 
 preeminence ; for the same reason as the Romans might 
 call him homo, because he was formed ex humo ; though 
 no one will say that the casual circumstance of this para- 
 nomasia is any reason why the Latin should be the pri- 
 mitive language. The name of Babel itself, which the 
 Hebrew text tells us was so called because God did there 
 bbl balal, i. e. confound the language of all the earth, 
 may, say the compilers of Universal History, vol. i. page 
 350, more naturally be derived from the Syriac, in 
 which tongue balbel is to confound ; and boblo, or bobel, 
 
96 am**-scejpticism; or, 
 
 confusion.* This argument has been further enforced, 
 from the significancy of the names of several animals in 
 the Hebrew tongue, which are thought to have been im- 
 posed by Adam, because of some peculiar qualities in the 
 animal to which they were given, correspondent to their 
 respective roots. (Bochart.) But since the same may 
 be as justly asserted of most other languages, as the 
 Hebrew, it will conclude nothing. ( Univwsal History,) 
 Besides, say the compilers of Universal History, we are 
 much deceived, if we imagine that the verbs were really 
 the original roots of the Hebrew tongue : on the con • 
 trary, the greatest part of them, at least, were themselves, 
 at first, derived from nouns, though they be now, for 
 grammatical convenience, considered as the roots. 
 Many examples might be given of the verb's being 
 manifestly derived from, and posterior to the noun, in 
 all the oriental tongues ; so, in English, dog, duck, &c. 
 were certainly first imposed as names, and afterwards 
 used as verbs, to express actions proper to those crea- 
 tures.f All that is to be inferred from the derivation of 
 names, is this, that these words were, very probably, 
 brought into the Hebrew language, but it does not there- 
 fore follow, that the whole Hebrew language descended 
 from the same spring whence they were derived 4 Fur- 
 ther, the names which are assigned by Moses to eastern 
 countries and cities, derived to them immediately from 
 the patriarchs, their original founders, are for the most 
 
 * According to Rich and Beauchamp, the mount of Babel adjoining 
 Delia Valle's ruin, is called by the Arabs, Majelibi, or Makloube, signi- 
 fying overturned, as the eastern writers say Babel was by a tempest 
 from heaven. — Vide Maurice's Observations on the Ruins of Babylon. 
 
 t Universal History, vol. 1. 
 
 X Grotius, Huetius, Stackhouse. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 97 
 
 part, says the Rev. Mr. Maurice, the very names by 
 which they were anciently known over all the east; 
 many of them were afterwards translated, with little va- 
 riation, by the Greeks, in their systems of geography.* 
 But without the aid of learning, any man, says Bishop 
 Watson, who can barely read his Bible, and has but 
 heard of such people as the Assyrians, the Elamites, the 
 Lydians, the Medes, the Ionians, the Thraeians, will 
 readily acknowledge, that they had Assur, and Elam, 
 and Lud, and Madai, and Javau, and Tiras, grandsons 
 of Noah, for their respective founders.f Moses has 
 traced in one short chapter, (Gen. x.) continues Mr. 
 Maurice, all the inhabitants of the earth, from the Cas- 
 pian and Persian seas to the extreme Gades, to their 
 original, and recorded at once the period and occasion 
 of their dispersion. This fact, and the conclusions from 
 it, remarks Bishop Tomline, which are thus incontro* 
 vertibly established by the newly-acquired knowledge of 
 the Sanscreet language, were contended for and strongly 
 enforced by Bochart and Stillingfleet, who could only 
 refer to oriental opinions and traditions, as they came to 
 them through the medium of Grecian interpretation. 
 To the late excellent and learned president of the Asiatic 
 society, we are chiefly indebted for the light recently 
 thrown from the East upon this important subject. 
 Avowing himself to be attached to no system, and as 
 much disposed to reject the Mosaic history, if it were 
 proved to be erroneous, as to believe it if he found it 
 confirmed by sound reasoning and satisfactory evidence, 
 he engaged in those researches to which his talents and 
 situation were equally adapted: and the result of his 
 
 * Maurice's History of Hindostan, vol. 1. 
 t Apology for the Bible. — Bishop Watson. 
 
 H 
 
9£ ANTI-SCEPTICISM ; OR, 
 
 laborious inquiries into the chronology, history, mytho- 
 logy, and languages of the nations, whence infidels have 
 long derived their most formidable objections, was a fait 
 conviction, that neither accident nor ingenuity could ac- 
 count for the very numerous instances of similar tra- 
 ditionsj and of near coincidence in the names of persons 
 and places which are to be found in the Bible, and in* 
 ancient monuments of eastern literature.* Whoever, 
 indeed, is acquainted with the writings of Mr. Bryant 
 and Mr. Maurice, and with the Asiatic Researches,, 
 published at Calcutta, cannot but have observed,, re- 
 marks Bishop Tomline, that the accounts of the creation, 
 the fall, the deluge and dispersion f of mankind, re- 
 corded by the nations upon the east continent, of Asia, 
 bear a strong resemblance to each other, and to the nar- 
 rative in the sacred history, and evidently contain the 
 fragments of one original truth, which was broken by 
 the dispersion of the patriarchal families, and corrupted 
 by length of time, allegory, and idolatry. From this 
 universal concurrence on this head, one of these things 
 is necessarily true; either that all these traditions 
 must have been taken from the author of the book of 
 
 * Asiatic Researches and Maurice's History. 
 
 t The following curious and valuable commentary on the tenth 
 chapter of Genesis, which records the primitive settlements of the three 
 families, is furnished by Abulfaragi, in his History of the Dynasties : — 
 " In the 140th Phaleg, the earth was divided, by a second division 
 among the sons of Noah. To the sons of Shem was allotted the middle 
 of the earth, namely, Palestine, Syria, Assyria, Samarra, (a town of 
 Babylonian or Chaldean Irac), Babel, Persia, and Hegiaz (or Arabian 
 Petrea). To the sons of Ham — Teman, (or Idumea, Gen. 49th chapter, 
 7th verse), Africa, Nigritia, Egypt, Nubia, Ethiopia, Scindia, and India-, 
 (or western and eastern India), on both sides of the Indus. To the 
 sons of Japheth* also, Garbia, (the North), Spain, France, the countries 
 of the Greeks, Selavonians, Bulgarians, Turks, and Armenians."— Dr. 
 Hales. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 99 
 
 Genesis, who made up his history from some or all such 
 traditions as were already extant ; or lastly, that he re- 
 ceived his knowledge of past events by revelation. Were 
 then all these traditions taken from the Mosaic history ? 
 It has been shown by Sir William Jones and Mr. 
 Maurice, that they were received too generally and too 
 early to make this supposition even possible; for they 
 existed in different parts of the world in the very age 
 when Moses lived. Was the Mosaic history composed 
 from the traditions then existing ? It is certain that the 
 Chaldeans, the Persians,^ the most ancient inhabitants of 
 India, and the Egyptians, all possessed the same story ; 
 but they had, by the time of Moses, wrapt it up in their 
 own mysteries, and disguised it by their own fanciful 
 conceits.* 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 No notice in the sacred records respecting the primitive tongue — argu- 
 ments of various writers stated — probability that all the people of 
 the earth journeyed and settled in the plains of Shinar— division of 
 the people of all the earth — remark of Shuckford respecting the 
 Babylonian and Hebrew language — answered by a passage in 
 Jeremiah, &c. — alphabetic writing — writings of Job — language of 
 
 AT is no where stated in the sacred records, that the 
 language of Adam has been preserved; neither, as we 
 have already remarked, are the opinions of the learned 
 on the subject found to agree. Some writers assert that 
 the confusion of tongues at the building of the tower of 
 Babel was only partial, and that the primitive language 
 
 * Bishop Tomline- -Christian Theology, vol. 1 . 
 H 2 
 
100 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 has been transmitted to the posterity of Eber, or 
 Heber.* Other writers, in agreement with this opinion, 
 affirm, that the building of Babel was commeneed by the 
 worst part of mankind; that they who had departed 
 from the piety of their ancestors, were the only people 
 who engaged in the undertaking. — In support of this 
 doctrine it is asserted, that only part of the posterity of 
 Noah journeyed from the East ; but, in contradiction to 
 it, other writers maintain that all the people of the earth 
 journeyed thither and settled in the plains of Shinar. The 
 high probability concerning the truth of this latter opi- 
 nion will presently appear. Josephus says that Nimrod 
 was the projector of the design of building Babel; while 
 Bochart asserts, with as much confidence, that when the 
 project of building the tower was formed, Nimrod must 
 have been either very young or even not born. The 
 late learned and indefatigable Sir William Jones was of 
 
 * From Eber (Gen. x. 21) Abram is called a Hebrew, Gen. chap, 
 xiv. 13, and his posterity Hebrews, Gen. xxxix. 14; Exod. i. 15, 16. 
 Some, however, have thought that Eber, in Gen. x. 21, is not a proper 
 name : and Abraham is called a Hebrew, not from Eber, as the proper 
 name of a man, but as this word imports one who comes from beyond 
 the river Euphrates. And then, what we render " the children of 
 Eber," imports the inhabitants beyond the river Euphrates. — Bishop 
 Kidder. 
 
 By Eber (Numbers xxiv. 24) is meant, either the people bordering on 
 the Euphrates; or the Hebrews, the posterity of Eber. If the former; 
 they, as well as the Assyrians, were subdued both by the Greeks and 
 Romans; if the latter, which is most probable, they were afflicted, 
 though not much by Alexander himself, yet by his successors the 
 Seleucidse, and particularly by Antiochus Epiphanes, who spoiled 
 Jerusalem, defiled the temple, and slew all those who adhered to the 
 law of Moses. Mac. i. 1. 
 
 They were worse afflicted by the Romans, who not only subdued 
 and oppressed them, and made their country a province of the empire, 
 but at last took away their place and nation, and sold antf dispersed 
 them over the face of the earth. — Bishop Neicton. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 101 
 
 opinion, that the primitive language of mankind is ex- 
 tinct. 
 
 It is very important to the subject of our inquiry to 
 ascertain, whether all the people of the earth journeyed 
 from the East and settled in the plains of Shinar, or only 
 part of them.* On this point the sacred text appears to 
 be perfectly decisive. " And the whole earth was of one 
 language (or lip), and of one speech. And it came to 
 pass as they journeyed from the Eastf that they found a 
 
 * " After a certain time," says Bishop Tomline, " the whole race of 
 men moved from their original habitations in Armenia, and settled in 
 the plains of Shinar near the Euphrates, in Assyria or Chaldea. Here 
 they began to establish themselves, and began to build a city and town 
 whose top might reach to heaven." In the two first editions of the 
 ■ Elements of Christian Theology," Bishop Tomline stated that a part 
 only of the inhabitants of the earth "journeyed from the east" and set- 
 tled in the plains of Shinar ; " but from a more attentive consideration 
 of the subject, to which," says the Bishop, " I have been led by the 
 learned and ingenious ' Remarks on the Eastern Origination of Man- 
 kind, by Mr. Granville Penn, published in the second volume of the 
 Eastern Collections, I have been induced to change my opinion." — Vide 
 Christian Theology, 9th edition, vol. 1, page 139. 
 
 t By the east, most persons understand Armenia, where they sup- 
 pose the ark rested, and Noah and his sons first planted themselves ; 
 but this has a great difficulty in it ; for the mountains in Armenia lay 
 north of Shinar or Assyria, and not east. To solve this, Bochart ima- 
 gines, that Moses, in this place, has followed the geographical style of 
 the Assyrians, who called all that lay beyond the Tigris, the east 
 country, though a great part of it, towards Armenia, was really north- 
 ward ; and all that lay on this side, they called the west, though some 
 of it certainly lay south. (Vide Phaleg, lib. 1.) But there is no need 
 of this solution: (vide Stackhouse's Body of Divinity.) For though the 
 Gordyean mountains (whereon the ark probably rested) lie in a manner 
 north of Babel, yet since the plain or valley of Shinar extends itself 
 quite up to the mountains of Armenia ; no sooner was Noah and his 
 family descended from these Gordyean mountains into the level country 
 on the south, but they were very full east of the upper, or northern 
 parts of the land of Shinar : so that it might truly and in the most literal 
 sense be said, tliat as they journeyed from the east, they found a plain 
 in the land of .Shinar. (Wells's Geography.) This, however, has not 
 hindered some from carrying the ark as for as mount Caucasus before 
 
102 AKTI-SCEPTICISM ; OR, 
 
 plain in the land of Shinar, and they dwelt there. And 
 they said one to another, go to, let us make brick, and 
 burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, 
 and slime had they for mortar. And they said go to, 
 let us build us a city, and a tower, whose top may reach 
 unto heaven, and let us make us a name, lest we be 
 scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. And 
 the Lord came down to see the city, and the tower 
 which the children of men builded. And the Lord said, 
 Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language : 
 and this they begin to do ; and now nothing will be re- 
 strained from them which they have imagined to do. 
 Go to, let us go down, and there confound their lan- 
 guage, that they may not understand one another's 
 speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence, 
 upon the face of all the earth : and they left off to build 
 the city : therefore is the name of it called Babel (i. e. 
 confusion) because the Lord did there confound the lan- 
 guage of all the earth : and from thence did the Lord 
 scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth." 
 
 We perceive here, that the people was one, that the 
 whole human race had one language ,- that to divide this 
 union and scatter the people abroad upon the face of all 
 the earth, their language (the language of all the earth) 
 was confounded. 
 
 it settled, that the people might be said to journey from the East with- 
 out all controversy : aud because we hear no more of Noah in the 
 sacred story, only that he died at such a term of years, they thence 
 conclude, that he and his postdiluvian race settled at first in the East, 
 and very likely in China itself, since the singularity of the Chinese lan- 
 guage, and manner of writing, aud the antiquity of their history, their 
 polity, and acquaintance with the learned sciences, do plainly denote 
 them to have been of a very ancient extraction. — Sir Walter Raleigh's 
 History; Whiston's Theory; and Stackhousc's Body of Divinity. 
 
AN INQUIRY, SCC. 103 
 
 Nothing, possibly, can more strongly impress upon 
 <©ur minds the use and power of language, than the con- 
 fusion of tongues at the building of the city and tower 
 of Babel : it proves the absolute necessity of precision in 
 the use of terms of art or science. And when their lan- 
 guage was confounded, " They left off to build the 
 city." 
 
 But whether the opinion of Bochart respecting Nimrod, 
 or that of Josephus be preferred, it is no where attested 
 in the sacred writings, that the primitive language was 
 transmitted to the sons of Eber ; on the contrary, it is 
 expressly said of the children of Shem, in common with 
 those of Ham and Japheth, that the earth was divided 
 in the days of Peleg, (i. e. division,* separation), " after 
 their families after their tongues, in their lands, after 
 their nations :" and it is also sufficiently attested in the 
 same writings, that the family and posterity of Eber, 
 who continued on the other side of the Euphrates, spoke 
 the old Chaldean tongue : and, moreover, that Abraham, 
 after he had lived seventy-five years in Ur of the Chal- 
 xlees, went " as the Lord had spoken unto him," and 
 dwelt in another land. It has, therefore, been conjec- 
 tured, that this Chaldean, or the ancient Syriac, and the 
 old Hebrew, were the very same language ; which some 
 seem to think is the most ancient language -j- which has 
 descended to us.: but it is presumed that this does not 
 refer to the Hebrew of the Bible. In this part of our 
 inquiry the remark of the Rev. Mr. Maurice is exceed- 
 ingly useful: the Chaldea from which Abraham mi- 
 
 * The great dispersion, recorded in Gen. xi. happening just when 
 Peleg was born, made his father call him by this name, which signifies 
 division and separation. — Bishop Patrick. 
 
 ,t Sir William Jones has endeavoured to prove from etymology, that 
 the Persian was the most ancient language which has descended to us. 
 
101 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 grated " was in or near Armenia, and must not be con- 
 founded with the country afterwards called Chaldea, the 
 capital of which was Babylon." That the languages of 
 these two Chaldean countries, at the time of the disper- 
 sion, were different from each other, there can be but 
 little doubt. This opinion is not affected by the remark 
 of Dr. Shuckford, that the Babylonian and Hebrew 
 were originally the very same language; 1st. Because 
 we read in Jeremiah v. 15 — " Lo I will bring a nation 
 (Babylon*) upon you from far, O house of Israel, saith 
 the Lord ; it is a mighty nation, it is an ancient nation, 
 a nation whose language thou knowest not, neither under- 
 standest what they say :" and 2dly. Because Ur of the 
 Chaldees was the country of part of the posterity of 
 Shem ; and Babylon, of part of the posterity of Ham ; 
 and the nations of all the earth were divided and dis- 
 persed after their families and after their tongues. 
 How long these precise differences lasted it is impossible 
 to say : we may, however, easily imagine, that until the 
 practice of alphabetical writing was universal, each in- 
 dividual language would be liable to alteration; and this 
 especially refers to the languages of those countries, 
 where the Hebrews and Israelites sojourned, and where, 
 after the Egyptian bondage, the Jews settled. But the 
 question respecting the first instance of alphabetical 
 writing is attended with even more and greater diffi- 
 culties than that of language itself. Doubtless, both de- 
 rived their origin from the same source ; and it is pretty 
 clear, that unassisted reason could have invented neither. 
 The almost infinite changes and varieties, which the 
 Divine art of alphabetic writing is capable of producing, 
 
 * Babylon was built about a hundred years after the flood : and soon 
 after Nimrod erected a kingdom there : whence that country is called 
 * The land of Nimrod." Mic. v. 6.— W, Lowth^ 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 105 
 
 almost confirm us in the opinion, that man received it 
 immediately from his Maker. 
 
 The first time that alphabetical writing is mentioned 
 in the Pentateuch is in Exodus xvii. 14. " And the 
 Lord said write this as a memorial in a book, and re- 
 hearse it in the ears of Joshua." — According to the 
 chronology of Dr. Lloyd, this was pronounced to Moses, 
 three months prior to the promulgation of the law on 
 Mount Sinai. But it is generally admitted by sacred 
 critics, that the writings of Job were anterior to this 
 event, and likewise to the books of the Pentateuch, and, 
 consequently, that these are the most ancient records in 
 the world.* This circumstance, says Dr. Hales, {UOyty 
 
 * Homer is the most ancient of the profane writers: and, ac- 
 cording to the opinion of the late Dr. Hill, of St. Andrew's, in hi? 
 Essays on Ancient Greece, the age in which he lived was about 
 1200 years before the Christian era; according to the calculation 
 of Sir Isaac Newton, it was 900 years before the Christian era: 
 but as the poet has made no allusion to the return of the Hera- 
 clidae, which happened 80 years after the taking of Troy, (1270 be- 
 fore the Christian era), the conclusion of Dr; Hill appears to be well 
 grounded. It is well authenticated that the Greeks acknowledged to 
 have received their letters from the Phoenicians.. {Herodotus, Terpsi- 
 chore). *Ia>j/£e 7rapaXa/3oiT£C &i§axjj napa rdv Qoivikcjv to. ypamiara, 
 et seq. Iones, cum a Phcenicibus litems didicissent, usi eis sunt cum 
 immutatione quadam ; et cum usu professi sunt (ut asquum erat, ciim 
 eas Phcenices in Graeciam attulissent) qudd litterae illae Phoenician dice- 
 rentur. Eupolemus, in his book on the kings of Judea, says, Mosem 
 primum fuisse sapientum, atque ab eo datam literaturam Judaeis, quae 
 ab Judaeis, ad Phoenices pervenerit. (Grotius). Capel, Bochart, and 
 Le Clerc have proved that the shape of the letters of the Greeks was 
 the same as that of the Phoenician and Samaritan letters. The Cadmean 
 alphabet consisted of 16 letters, to which Palamedes added four, and 
 Simonides of Melos four others. " The command that every king, upon 
 his accession to the throne, should write him a copy of the law in a 
 book out of that which is before the priests," Deut v. 18, is a proof 
 not only that the law existed in writing, but that there was a copy of 
 it deposited in the tabernacle, or temple. — Bishop Tomline. 
 
 We have the authority of tradition to say that every tribe was fur« 
 nished with a copy of the laws beforethe death of Moses.— Ibid. 
 
106 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 and Manfs Bible), stamps the highest value upon the 
 Book of Job, as a most faithful and authentic monument 
 of the language, the learning, the manners, and the reli- 
 gion of the earlier and purer patriarchal ages. 
 
 Doubtless, on his arrival at Canaan, Abraham re- 
 tained for some time his original tongue; but after his 
 return from Egypt, the long stay which he made in 
 Canaan, the possessions he acquired, the alliances he 
 contracted, the covenants he made, and the credit and 
 conversation he had with the people of the country, 
 make it more than probable, that he acquired the 
 Canaanitish or Phoenician language, and transmitted it 
 to Isaac. Other learned men conceive, therefore, that it 
 is no unreasonable conjecture, that the language of Isaac 
 and Jacob, instead of being the parent of all, was itself 
 descended from that of Canaan. It is acknowledged 
 that this conclusion will not be diminished by the cir- 
 cumstances of Isaac* and Jacob's journeying for their 
 
 * Gen. xxv. 20. "And Isaac was forty years old when he took 
 Rebekah to wife, the daughter of Bethuel, the Syrian, of Padan-Aram, 
 the sister to Laban, the Syrian." Bethuel, as also his son Laban, is 
 called the Aramite, or Syrian, not as descended from Aram, or a Syrian 
 by descent ; but as living in the comntry which fell to the lot of Aram 
 at the first plantation after the flood, (or rather at the general dispersion 
 of mankind), and which must accordingly be esteemed a part also of 
 Syria, largely taken to denote all the country of Aram/ For he lived 
 at Haran, and so in the north part of Aram-Naharaim, or Mesopotamia, 
 which north part, from the fruitfulness of it, was particularly called 
 Padan-Aram, the word Padan denoting a cultivated fruitful ground. — 
 Dr. Wells. 
 
 The Syrians were so called, because they were the descendents of 
 Aram, the son of Shem. Gen. x. 22. Ara.n\-Naharaim, was the coun- 
 try of those Syrians that lived between the two rivers Tigris and 
 Euphrates. {Bishop Patrick.) Asshur properly means the descendants 
 of Asshur, the Assyrian ; but the Syrians and Assyrians are often con- 
 founded together, and mentioned as the same people. The Greeks 
 under Alexander the Great subdued all those countries. The Romans 
 afterwards extended their empire into the same regions : and Assyria, 
 properly so called, was conquered by the emperor Trajan.— #». Newton. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 107 
 
 wives to the East, to the paternal country of Abraham, 
 Padan-Aram, near JJr of the Chaldees ; for while it is 
 admitted, that Abraham had acquired the language of 
 Canaan, it does not follow, that he had either forgotten 
 his native tongue, or that he had not, in some degree, 
 transmitted it to Isaac, and that Isaac had not trans- 
 mitted it to Jacob. Still it is not improbable, that, 
 during the twenty years' stay of Jacob in his father-in- 
 law Laban's house, he spoke the language of the place; 
 and became as much familiar with that as with the lan- 
 guage of Canaan : it seems very probable, I think, that 
 he should have cultivated a further knowledge and prac- 
 tice of the language of this country ; the country of his 
 betrothed wife, the country where his heart was glad, 
 where " seven years were as a few days." It is here to 
 be recollected, that this was the birth-place of the twelve 
 sons of Jacob : the original language of the Israelites 
 was the same, therefore, or nearly the same, as that of 
 Abraham. 
 
 But whether we yield to, or depart altogether from 
 the opinion of Le Clerc and Stackhouse, that " The 
 Hebrew tongue, instead of being the parent of all, was 
 itself descended from that of Canaan," no doubt can pos- 
 sibly arise in our minds respecting the change or modi- 
 fication of the language of the Hebrews and Israelites 
 during the period of 215 years, from the departure of 
 Abraham out of the country of Ur of the Chaldees. 
 This circumstance is, in some degree, corroborated by 
 the passages in Gen. xxxi. 45, &c. respecting the cove- 
 nant which was made between Laban and Jacob — " And 
 Jacob took a stone, and set it up for a pillar. And 
 Jacob said unto his brethren, gather stones; and they 
 took stones, and made an heap, and they did eat there 
 
108 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 upon the heap. And Laban called it Jegar-saha dutha t 
 but Jacob called it Galeed, (the one is a Syriac, the 
 other a Hebrew name : both having the same significa- 
 tion;" (Bishop Patrick ; ) that is, according to the mar- 
 ginal reference of the Bible, " the heap of witness.'* 
 " Therefore was the name of it called Galeed (a heap), 
 and Mizpah, (a beacon, or watch tower; marginal 
 reference). It is, nevertheless, to be recollected, that the 
 journey of Jacob to Padan-Aram, and his twenty years' 
 stay there, tended very much to restore to him the ori- 
 ginal language of his grandfather, Abraham; but as 
 alphabetical writing was not then invented, it is natural 
 to conceive, that in proportion to the various relations 
 of time, circumstance, and place, the language of the 
 children of Israel, though a separate people, would be 
 perpetually fluctuating. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Causes of the fluctuation of language stated — language of the Israelites 
 neither spoken nor generally understood in Egypt at the time of the 
 famine— the marriages of Joseph and Moses with Egyptian women — 
 the friendship which possibly subsisted between the Israelites and 
 the Egyptians until the death of Joseph — the mixed multitude which 
 departed from Egypt — the language in which the written law was 
 promulgated on Mount Sinai different from the language of the ori- 
 ginal or former sons of Eber— from the time of the captivity the 
 Hebrew ceased to be a living language. 
 
 XjINGUISTS admit very generally that a living lan- 
 guage is liable to various modifications ; this is affirmed 
 to be true even when the language has been spoken in 
 its greatest purity, and protected by the efforts of clas- 
 sical writers : and we very well know that time, circum- 
 stance, and place, do occasion alterations — in all modern 
 
AN INQUIRY, &Cr 109 
 
 languages. The propriety of consenting to this position 
 will be felt by referring to the 1 2th chapter of Judges* 
 the 5th and 6th verses, respecting the pronunciation of 
 the sons of Ephraim. " And the Gileadites took the 
 passages of Jordan before the Ephraimites : and it was 
 so that when those Ephraimites which were escaped, 
 said, let me go over, that the men of Gilead said unto 
 him, art thou an Ephraimite? if he said, nay; then said 
 they unto him, say now Shibboleth : and he said Sibbo- 
 leth : for he could not frame to pronounce it right." 
 And certainly what is applicable to a written language, 
 as the Hebrew, at the time when the Ephraimites quar- 
 relled with Jeptha, must be equally so to a language 
 which was not a written one, — as that of the Hebrews 
 and Israelites, before their deliverance from the Egyp- 
 tian bondage. 
 
 On these points, however, the sacred records are en- 
 tirely silent: hence all the opinions respecting them 
 must be governed entirely by analogy. But one cir- 
 cumstance is well authenticated ; and that is this ; — the 
 language of the children of Israel at the time of the 
 famine in and about Egypt and Canaan, was not spoken 
 or generally understood in Egypt. For when the chil- 
 dren of Israel went there to buy corn, and appeared 
 before Joseph, he " knew them, but made himself 
 strange:" that is, he affected not to know them, but 
 conversed with them by an interpreter. " If ye be true 
 men, let one of your brethren be bound in the house of 
 our prison : go ye, carry corn for the famine of your 
 houses. But bring your youngest brother unto me, so 
 shall your words be verified, and ye shall not die." — 
 " And they said one to another, We are very guilty 
 concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of 
 
110 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 his soul, when he besought us; and we would not hear; 
 therefore is this distress come upon us. And Reuben 
 answered and said, spake I not unto you, saying, Do 
 not sin against the child, and ye would not hear? there- 
 fore behold, also, his blood is required." And then fol- 
 lows, " They knew not that Joseph understood them : 
 for he spake unto them by an interpreter." Gen. xiii. 
 19 to 23. Compare Psalm lxxxi. 5. cxiv. 5. — The 
 two-and-twenty years' residence, preparatory to this 
 event, afforded Joseph ample time to be completely con- 
 versant and familiar with the Egyptian language: the 
 acquirement of which was to him doubtless a matter of 
 necessity: he was an utter stranger in the land; and, 
 according to our annotators, his first office was of menial 
 employ; but the Lord was with Joseph ; and his master, 
 seeing that the Lord was with him, made him overseer 
 over all his house ; " And all that he had he put into 
 his hand." The wickedness and fury of a voluptuous 
 and disappointed woman were the occasion of the sud- 
 den dismissal of Joseph, and of his being cast into pri- 
 son. — And here we are required to adore the inscrutable 
 ways of Providence : for, notwithstanding the most un- 
 promising appearances which present themselves, and 
 means, which, to us, seem oftentimes the most unfavour- 
 able, ends frequently are produced of the utmost vital 
 consequence. Such exactly was the instance of the 
 affliction of Joseph, of his being sold into Egypt, and 
 finally cast into prison. The truth of this is confirmed 
 from the results which followed ; and which were occa- 
 sioned by the power that enabled him to interpret the 
 dreams of the two men in the prison ; and, finally, that 
 of Pharoah, which none of the magicians nor wise men 
 could explain. " And Pharoah said unto Joseph, 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. Ill 
 
 u Forasmuch as God hath shewed thee all this, there i» 
 none so discreet and wise as thou art: thou shalt be 
 over my house, and, according unto thy word, shall all 
 my people be ruled : only in the throne will I be greater 
 than thou. And he gave him to wife Asenath, the 
 daughter of Potiphorah the priest, (or prince,) of On. — 
 And unto Joseph were born two sons before the years of 
 famine came ; and he called the name of the first-born, 
 Menasseh, (that is, forgetting,) for God, said he, hath 
 made me forget all my toil, and all my father's house. 
 And the name of the second called he Ephraim, (that is, 
 fruitful,) for God hath caused me to be fruitful in the 
 land of my affliction." Gen. xli. — From this it may 
 be safely inferred, I think, that the seeds of the Egyptian 
 language were likely to be sown in the soil of that of the 
 Israelites. The rank to which Joseph was raised, and 
 the alliance which he had formed with the daughter of 
 Potiphorah, the Egyptian prince, would naturally cause 
 the language of Egypt to spread and identify itself in 
 some respects, with the language of the Israelites. It 
 was, moreover, the native language of the tribes of 
 Manasseh and Ephraim ; and, possibly, was spoken by 
 them and their respective families in an uncorrupted 
 state for 76 years. And what is true of the language of 
 the sons and grandsons of Manasseh, and " Ephraim's 
 children of the third generation," is equally true of 
 Moses and his generation. Moses was instructed in all 
 the wisdom of the Egyptians ; Acts vii. 22.; his very 
 name was derived from the Egyptian language ; for, ao 
 cording to Bryant and Calmet, Mo, or Mou, was the 
 Egyptian for water. " Moses fled from the face of 
 Pharoah, and dwelt in the land of Midian :" — a part of 
 Arabia Pitrea, where some of Abraham's posterity, the 
 
112 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 sons of his concubines, were settled, whom he separated 
 from Isaac while he lived. " Now the priest or prince 
 of Midian had seven daughters, and they came and drew 
 water, and filled the troughs to water their father's flock. 
 And the shepherds came and drove them away: but 
 Moses stood up and helped them, and watered their 
 flock. And when they came to Reuel, their father, he 
 said, how is it that you are come so soon to day ? And 
 they said, an Egyptian delivered us out of the hands of 
 the shepherds, and also drew water enough for us, and 
 watered the flock. And he said unto his daughters, 
 and where is he ? why is it that ye have left the man ? 
 Call him that he may eat bread. And Moses was con- 
 tent to dwell with the man, and he gave Moses Zepporah, 
 his daughter. And she bare him a son, and he called 
 his name Gershom : for he said I have been a stranger 
 in a strange land." Exodus ii. 15, &c. 
 
 It may be made a standing observation, says Stack- 
 house, that the sacred authors do not relate all the par- 
 ticulars of a story, as other authors delight to do, but 
 such only as are most material. We may, therefore, 
 suppose, that a great many things intervened between 
 Moses's entrance into Jero's* family, and his marriage 
 to the daughter of Jero : especially, considering that his 
 children were so young at his return into Egypt, after 
 an absence of forty years.f According to Bryant, this 
 
 * The name of the priest of Midian was Jero ; so that either Reuel 
 was his name as well as Jero, or else Reuel was the father of Jero, and 
 therefore grandfather of these young women. — Bishop Patrick. 
 
 It is usual in Scripture to call the grandfather, father; see Gen. 
 xxiv. 48, where Rebekah is called Abraham's brother's daughter ; she 
 was in fact his grand-daughter. — Bishop Kidder — D'Oyly and ManVs 
 Bible. 
 
 t Stackhousc. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &e. 118 
 
 marriage of Moses was contrary to the usage of his 
 forefathers, and of the Hebrews in general: and it 
 seemed to intimate that he thought himself quite alie- 
 nated from his countrymen : but the writer appears to 
 have forgotten the case of Joseph's marriage with the 
 daughter of Potiphorah, the Egyptian prince, when 
 Joseph forgot all his toil and all his father's house. 
 These marriages, as far as the point in question is con- 
 cerned, tended, no doubt, to modify and corrupt the 
 language of those descended through Isaac, from the 
 line of Eber : which number, independently of Jacob, 
 Joseph, and his two sons, and Moses, was only three 
 score and six ; and before they departed out of Egypt 
 increased to 600,000, inclusive of the mixed multitude 
 which went with them. 
 
 On their arrival in Egypt, the Israelites were al- 
 lowed to dwell in Goshen, and the most active of them 
 were permitted to be rulers of the cattle of Pharaoh. 
 They were exceedingly prone to mix, and imitate the 
 manners of the people, in whatsoever country they 
 sojourned. This may be gathered from their history. 
 
 At the end of 124« years after their arrival in Egypt, 
 it brought down upon them the vengeance of Almighty 
 God ; when a new king arose, who knew not Joseph, 
 nor the acts which he had performed in Egypt; when 
 taskmasters were placed over the Israelites, and they 
 were afflicted with heavy burdens. Thus, having suf- 
 fered hard bondage 91 years (which, with the 124- years 
 from the death of Jacob, and 215 from the coming of 
 Abraham out of his native country, make up the 430 
 mentioned) 600,000 of the Israelites departed on foot 
 out of Egypt : " and a mixed multitude went also with 
 them*" That is, as Bishop Patrick explains the passage, 
 
 i 
 
114 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 there were others besides Israelites ; perhaps, they were 
 proselytes, who had renounced idolatry : or they were 
 persons with whom the Israelites were connected by 
 intermarriages. The meaning contained in the last 
 clause seems to be corroborated by the interpretation of 
 Josephus, and approved of by Dr. Shuckford in the 
 passage — " every woman" of the Israelites " shall bor- 
 row," or rather according to the Hebrew, ask, (ask of 
 any to give. — Harmer, Shuckford) " of her neighbours." 
 The Egyptians made the Hebrews considerable presents : 
 and some did so in order to induce them to go the 
 sooner away from them : others out of respect to, and 
 on account of the acquaintance they had with them. 
 That there was something like mutual sympathy and 
 friendship during one part of the history of the Israelites 
 and Egyptians, may be evidenced in the singular magni- 
 ficence of the funeral of Jacob. " And Pharaoh said, 
 go up, and bring thy father, according as he made thee 
 swear. And Joseph went up to bury his father: and 
 with him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders 
 of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt. 
 And all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and his 
 father's house: only their little ones, and their flocks, 
 and their herds, they left in the land of Goshen. And 
 there went up with him both chariots and horsemen: 
 and it was a very great company. And they came to 
 the threshing floor of Atad, which is beyond Jordan, 
 and there they mourned with a very great and sore 
 lamentation: and he made a mourning for his father 
 seven days. And when the inhabitants of the land, the 
 Canaanites, saw the mourning in the floor of Atad, they 
 said, this is a grievous mourning to the Egyptians^ 
 wherefore the name of it was called Abel Mizraim :" 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. H5 
 
 thai is (according to the margin of the Bible) the mourn- 
 ing of the Egyptians. Thus, like Moses in the land 
 of Media, the people of Canaan seem to have identified 
 the Israelites with the Egyptians. For splendour and 
 magnificence, Stackhouse conceived this funeral to be 
 without parallel in history. Perhaps, the noble obse- 
 quies of Marcellus approach the nearest to it. But 
 how do even these fall short of the simple narrative 
 before us. For what were the six hundred beds for 
 which the Roman solemnities on this occasion were so 
 famous, when compared to that national itinerant multi- 
 tude, which swelled like a flood and moved like a river; 
 to " all Pharaoh's servants, to the elders of the house, 
 and all the elders of the land of Egypt," that is, to the 
 officers of his household, and deputies of his provinces; 
 with all the house of Jacob, and "his brethren, and 
 father's house," conducting their solemn sorrow for 
 near two hundred miles into a distant country.* 
 
 The conclusion to be drawn from this discussion, will 
 receive support from the arguments which are advanced 
 by Le Clerc to prove that Grotius is correct in his re- 
 mark, that the most ancient attic laws, whence the 
 Roman laws afterwards were taken, derived their origin 
 from those of Moses. Leges Atticae consentaneae sunt 
 in multis Hebraicis, quod Attici multas consuetudines 
 Cecropi iEgyptio deberent; quodque apud Hebrasos 
 Deus multas iEgyptiorum institutis, quibus Hebraei 
 adsucti erant, similes leges tulerit, iis tamen emendatis 
 quae noxia esse poterant.f A still stronger evidence 
 than this, that the Israelites and Egyptians were in- 
 fluenced by the manners and conduct of each other, may 
 
 * Stackhouse's Body of Diyinity. t Clejieus. 
 
116 ANTI^SCEPTICISM; OB, 
 
 be gathered from the notes of Grotius himself, as well as 
 by those of Le Clerc respecting the remarks of Herodo- 
 tus, Diodorus, Strabo, Philo Biblius, concerning the 
 ancient rite of circumcision. — The Egyptians, says Bp- 
 Patrick, borrowed circumcision either from the Hebrews 
 or the Ishmaelites, or some other people descended from 
 Abraham. The Jews, says Strabo, liber xvii. p. 824, 
 are far from confessing that they derived this custom 
 from the Egyptians ; on the contrary, they openly declare 
 that the Egyptians learned to be circumcised of Joseph. 
 Now it must appear exceedingly plain to any one 
 moderately attending to these historical facts and in- 
 ferences, that the original language of Abraham must 
 have undergone very considerable alterations prior to 
 the departure of the Israelites out of Egypt, and of their 
 becoming more peculiarly a separate and distinct people- 
 The circumstance of all the people of the earth journey- 
 ing from the East and settling in the plains of Shinar, 
 therefore — the occurrences and results of the journey of 
 Abraham into the land of Canaan — of the history of 
 Joseph and his marriage with an Egyptian princess — of 
 Hie tribes of Manasseh and Ephraim, who probably mar- 
 ried Egyptian women — of the friendship which possibly 
 subsisted between the Israelites and the Egyptians until 
 the death of Joseph — of the history of Moses and his 
 Egyptian learning, his marriage with a princess of Media 
 — of the mixed multitude which departed from Egypt, and 
 of other incidents that might be emmierated, — all these 
 circumstances, and the results of all these relations and 
 particulars, during a period of 4-30 years, when alpha- 
 betical "writing was unhiown, or if known, it must have 
 been only in a very small degree, known, perhaps only 
 io Moses, who, according to Dr. Magee> p-obably read 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C 117 
 
 the Book of Job to the Israelites under the Egyptian 
 bondage, to teach them the great duty of submission to the 
 will of God, — I say all these circumstances must surely 
 have occasioned various modifications and alterations in 
 the language of the posterity of Abraham, prior to the 
 promulgatiofi of the written law as setfoiih in the ancient 
 copies of the Bible. 
 
 These are some of the arguments which prove that 
 the original language of mankind has not, through the 
 Hebrews, been transmitted to us. The language in 
 which the Pentateuch was originally written, was, doubt- 
 less, the common language of the Israelites, at the time 
 when they were conducted into the wilderness of Sinai ; 
 and the language of the Pentateuch was as likely the 
 same as that in which the Lord declared unto them his 
 covenant on Mount Sinai. "And when the voice of 
 the trumpet sounded long and waxed louder, Moses 
 spake, and God answered by a voice;" Exodus xix. 19. 
 " These words the Lord spake unto all your assembly 
 in the mount, out of the midst of the fire, of the cloud, 
 and of the thick darkness, with a great voice, and he 
 added no more, and he wrote them on two tablets of 
 stone, and delivered them unto you. And it came to 
 pass when ye heard the voice out of the midst of the 
 darkness (for the mountain did burn with fire) that ye 
 came over unto me, even all the heads of your tribes, 
 and your elders. And ye said, behold the Lord our 
 God hath shewed us his glory, and his greatness, and 
 we have heard his voice out of the midst of the fire : we 
 have seen this day that God doth talk with man, and he 
 liveth." Deut. v. 22, 3, 4. 
 
 The ceremonial and civil laws were intermixed with 
 each other, and, by divine appointment, were instituted 
 
118 anti-scepticism; or, 
 
 for the very purpose of separating the Israelites from the 
 idolatrous Canaanites, and estranging them from all 
 other customs of the heathens : on this account, and on 
 this alone, they were esteemed a holy and peculiar people 
 with God. " And ye shall be holy unto me; for I, the 
 Lord, am holy, and have severed you from other people, 
 that ye should be mine." — The conclusion to be drawn 
 from the whole of these arguments, is, that the language 
 of the Israelites on their being delivered out of Egypt, 
 or the language in which the written law was promul- 
 gated on Mount Sinai, was different from the old Syriac 
 or Chaldean language, and also different from the lan- 
 guage of the original or former sons of Eber. This 
 statement exactly corresponds with the subsequent his- 
 tories of the Bible, and particularly with the history of 
 king Hezekiah, 2 Kings, chap, xviii. 26 ; Is. xxxvi. 2 ; 
 and also in the 5th chapter of Jeremiah, 15th verse; 
 1st chapter of Daniel, 4th verse; and 2d chapter, and 
 4th verse; — whereas,* in all of which passages, it appears, 
 that the Syrian language was unknown to the Jews.* 
 " The Aramean or Syrian language,f as understood in 
 its largest sense, is what was spoken by the Assyrians, 
 Babylonians, and many of the neighbouring nations, 
 and the same with what was called the ancient Chaldee. 
 This language, when corrupted by the introduction of 
 many Hebrew words, is called the Hebrew tongue in 
 the New Testament. The language spoken in Antioch 
 and other parts of Syria, differs as a dialect from the 
 
 * If this Syrian were the language of Eber, it is presumed that it 
 was not unknown to Abraham. 
 
 t But possibly this Syrian language is a union, or nearly so, of the 
 dialects of Ur of the Chaldees, and the other Chaldea, the capital of 
 which was Babylon. 
 
AN INQUIRY, &C. 119 
 
 former, and is what we now call the Syriac." ( Wintle ; 
 W. Lowtk s JyOyly and Mafifs Bible : Dan. chap. ii. 4.) ^ ^ 
 From the period when the written law was given to the 
 Israelites, down to the time of the Babylonish captivity, 
 it is universally allowed that the Hebrew language un- 
 derwent very little alteration ; at least as little alteration 
 as was effected in the Greek language from the time of 
 Hesiod and Homer to that of Longinus, occupying a 
 space of 1200 years. It is, however, shewn by Bishop 
 Marsh, that there is just difference enough in the various 
 books of the Bible to shew, that its authenticity is se- 
 cure. " It is certain," says he, " that the five books 
 which are ascribed to Moses, were not written in the 
 time of David, the Psalms of David in the age of Isaiah, 
 nor the prophecies of Isaiah in the time of Malachi. 
 (Marsh on the authenticity of the five Books of Moses,) — 
 It is generally admitted, that, at the time of the Baby- 
 lonish captivity, the Hebrew gradually ceased to be a 
 living language, and that the anomalous jargon in which 
 modern Jews converse with each other, is very far re- 
 moved from the Hebrew of the Bible. 
 
 F1N1R. 
 
 Fnnted by Mumla? and blatter, Oiford. 
 
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