m 1 mm MMimni Mnmimmmh THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES :^->. , I ISSERTATIONS MORAL AND CRITICAL. ON MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. ON DREAMING. THE THEORY OF LANGUAGE. ON FADLE AND ROMANCE. ON THE ATTACHMENTS OF KINDRED. ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. By JAMES B E A T T I E, LL. D. PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND LOGICK IN THE MARISCHAL COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN ; AND MEMBER OF THE ZEALAND SOCIETY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. WHiWm't *.»{UmjM»»t Sear.III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 23 apt at the llime time, or immediately after, to remember the adja- cent j)laces, the peribns who live theie, and any remarkable events diat may have happened in that neighbourliood. On tills law of our nature was founded a curious invention, fi-equcntly fpoken of by tlie old rhetoricians, under the name of tlie Artificial Memory ; whereof both C^ntilian and Cicero have given an account, but neither of them fo diftin(51iy as could be wilhed. In thofe days, publick orations were either extemporary, or recited from Memory : and as fome of thefe laft were very long, orators found it requifite to devife a method of ordering the feveral parts in fuch a manner, as that they might all be remembered in , their proper connecflion and place. For the art I fpeak of feems to have been intended to facilitate the remembrance, not fo mucli of the words of an harangue, as of its heads, or topicks, or other" fubordinate diviiions. For this purpofe, they arranged in their Memory a number of- contiguous places wherewith they were well acquainted j the apart- ments of a houfe, for example, or the buildings in a ftreet : and^ by long meditating on this fet of places in a certain order, they came at laft, on thinking of the firft, to remember all the reft' fucceflively, each in its own fituation. And it was neceflaiy, that this habit of recollefting the places, readily, and without omifiioii or confufion, fhould be fo thoroughly eftabliflied, as that there might be no rifque of its ever being lofi>' or impaired; for, as Quintilian obferves, tliat Remembrance muft be fomething more than firm, which is to ferve as a fupport or bafis to another Re- membrance. The orator then formed a kind of imasdnarv con- nection between thefe feveral places, and the feveral heads of- the difcourfe which he intended to deliver -, between the firfl place, and : the firfl head ; the fecond place, and the fecond head ; and fo for- ward : and he revolved this imaginary connexion in his mind, till the ^4 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. II. ihe idea of each place fuggefted that of the head affociated with it: and, as the order of the places was fixed in the Memory, the order of the topicks was by this contrivance made equally permanent, and was with equal cafe and certainty recollected. And hence, the feveral heads of a difcourfe were called Places or Topicks : and, in allufion to the fame practice, we ftill fay, In the firft place., In the fecond place. In the third place. In the places thus appropriated to the artificial Memory (fup- pofing them the apartments of a houfe) there would be moveables j as ftatues and pi6tures in one, warlike weapons in another, tables and couches in a third : or, if they did not admit of fuch furniture, it would be eafy for the orator to allot to each place (whatever it was) a certain number of fymbols, or figures, or names, ranged in a certain manner. And thus, the fubdivifions of the feveral heads of his harangue, and even particular fentiments in each fubdivifion, might be imprinted on his mind by a fimilar mode of arrangement ; the moveables, figures, or fymbols, being difpoftd in a certain order, that order fixed in the Memory, and particular fubdivifions and fentiments allbciated with them. This feems to have been the nature of the Artificial Memory. — But, as was already obferved,. the accounts we have of it fjom the rhetoricians are not clear; and I am in doubt whether I undeiftand them. If what is here faid be jufl, I cannot but think, with Quintilian, that the art was too complex, and that Memory may be improved by eafier methods. What is agreeable to- our own fentiments, inclinations, way of life, or courfe of fludy, we remembpr more eafily than what is notfoi bscaufe we underftand it better, and enter into it with a keener curiofity. Hence our own compofitions, and the events that have happened to ourfelves^ or our friends, or to perfons of our profelfion, take fafter hold of our Memory, than thofe in which we Sea. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 25 we are not fo particularly interefted. A facl relating to agriculture makes a deep imprefTion upon the hufbandman ; but is imme- diately forgotten by the mariner, or by the foldier, whofe m:.mory, however, is not lefs tenacious of maritime or military affairs. Moll defe6ls in Memory are owing to inattention. Could we attend to, and take a concern in, all topicks that occur in books, antl in converfation, we fliould poffefs what might be called an univerfal Memory. If our attentions are confined to a few things, the fphere of our Remembrance will be narrow. And here, I muft blame fome well-meaning parents and teachers, for defning children, when they go to church, or hear the fcripture read, to be careful to remember a note^ that is, a fentence or fliort paflage. The confequcnce is, that the child directs his whole attention to fome one phrafc, and dif regards all the refV. And {o, in order to make him retain a fmgle aphorifm, which })erhaps he does not underfland, and which he will probably forget before next morning, he is in a manner required by autho- rity to be inattentive to what he hears ; notwithflanding that he is told it is of the utmoll importance. Would it not be better, to recommend to him a general and uniform attention; and, when he is to give an account of what he has heard, rather to exercife his judgment, and aflift his Memory, by appofite queflions in the Socratick method, than to infill: on his repeating a number of words in the cxa£l form in which he heard them ? The more relations, or likeneflcs, that we find, or can eflablifli, between objedls, the more eafily will the view of one lead us to recolle£l the reft. Verfe we remember better than profe, becaufc .of the relation in meafure, as well as in fenfe, that the words of the former bear to one another ; and rhime better than blank verfe, becaufe lines in rhime bear to one another a relation in found, as well as in fcnfe and meafure- Horace tells us, that in fome coun- E tries 26 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. II. tries laws were antiently written in verfe j in order, no doubt, that they might be the more eafily remembered. And it is obfervable, that many of thofe common proverbs, which every body remem- bers, have meafure ; that feveral of them have rhime ; and that, in fome, there is a famenefs of found in the initial letters of the words that compofe them. Every coincidence of this kind is favourable to Memory *. The more fenfes we employ in perceiving things, the more eafily will thofe things be remembered. Thus, to read aloud, and with propriety, if we are accuflomed to it, facilitates the remem- brance of what we read, conveying it to the mind by the ear, as well as by the eye : but, if we are not accuflomed to it, the found of our voice, and the fear of going wrong, will withdraw our at- tention, and prevent remembrance. Tranfcription is alfo, in many cafes, favourable to Memory. And if we tranfcribe flowly, in good order, in diftin6t paragraphs, without contractions, with a fcinapulous nicety in punctuation and fpelling, and with a reafonable dillance between the lines, we fliall have a better chance to remember what we write, than if we were to throw it together confufedly, and in hafie. For by all thefe means attention is quickened, and the original imprelFion made more lively. And here, though faflaion fliould determine againft me, I will endeavour, on rational principles, to lay down fome rules, in regard to that mode of penmanfhip, which I conceive to be moft expedient for thofe, who write with a view to afcertain their know- ledge, and improve their minds. 1 take it for granted, that thofe handwritings are the befl, which are moft durable and diftinft, which do not occupy too much room, and may be performed with expedition : and that one is * See 3ifliop Lowth's learned DifTertation prefixed to his Ifalah. better. Sea. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATIOM. Xy better, or worfe, as it partakes more, or lefs, of thcfc qualities. Upon this principle, I muft blame, in the fafliionablc hands, all thofc flouriflics, that either require time, or mix with any other part of the writing ; all thofe heads and tails of letters, which are fo long as to interfere with one another; and all thofe hair-ftrokes (as they are called) which are fo fine as to be hardly vifible, or which require too great nicety in cutting the pen. Letters, that rife and fall obliquely are not fo diflinct as thofe of an erect form : and all individual letters I would confidcr as blameable, which are known from their fituation, but would not be known if they flood alone. What we call the body of the letter, by which I mean that part of it, which neither rifes above, nor falls below the line, ought in my opinion to be ere6l, or nearly fo ; of a fquare figure, only a little narrower from right to left, than from top to bottom ; and of a fize equal, at leaft, to that of large print. Thofe parts of the letter, which rife above, or fall below the line, fliould be no longer than the body of the letter, that is, no longer than the line is broad : and fomething more than the breadth of two lines fliould be the fpace between the lines, that the heads or tails of one row of letters may not touch thofe of another ; and that a little room may be left for interlineation, if that Ihould be neceflary. Let the lines be perfectly Itraight, and of an uniform breadth ; let the points be acciu'ately marked, and the words properly fej^arated : and though fome ftrokes of the pen may, and indeed muft, be finer than others, there fliould be no greater difproportion, than is com- monly ken m elegant printing. In a word; I would make the Roman printed letter the archetype, or pattern, of the written one : that being the moft diftin6t, and one of the moil beautiful cha- rafters I know ; and withal fo fimple in the form as to have nothing fuperfluous ; and yet fo diverfified, as that one letter can never be miftaken for another. I do not mean, that the writer E 2 ilioulJ 28 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. II. ftiould imitate this chara£ter exactly. There muft be more round- nefs in his ftrokes, and more frequent joinings of one letter with another : and fome of tlie Roman characters, as a and g, arc not cafily made with the pen, and therefore fliould not be attempted. Bat I would have the penman confiderthe Roman alphabet as the flandard : and if, between that and the prefent fadiionable hand- writing, he can hit the juft medium, he will come near to reahfe my idea J and his work will have the diftinftnefs and durability of print, and will at the fame time admit of all neceflary fpeed in the execution. Nay, of the correftnefs of the compofition, when thus written, he will be a more competent judge, than of that of ordinary manufcripts, becaufe he will more clearly perceive what is written : and his Memory will be affifled by the vivacity of the fenfation it conveys to the eye, as well as by the diftindt ideas it imparts to the underllanding. Sea.iV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 29 SECT. IV. Different Jlppearances of Memory — in different Perfons, — and in the Jame P erf on at different Times. npHE appearances of Memory are not the fame in all men, nor in the fame man at all times. Inftances are recorded of extra- ordinary Memory. Themiftocles made himfelf mafter of the Perfian language in one year j and could call by their names all the citizens of Athens, whofe number was twenty thoufand. Cyrus knew the name of every foldier in his army -, Crafilis fpoke every dialccl of the Greek tongue ; and Julius Cefar could dictate to three fecre- taries at once, on three different fubje6ls. Fortius Latro, as we learn from Seneca, his intimate friend, remembered every thing that he committed to writing, though he wrote with the greateft rapidity -, and never forgot a woid of what he had once remem- bered. The fame author relates, that Cineas, who had gone to Rome as ambaflador from king Pyrrhus, did, on the day after his arrival, though he had never been there before, falute every fenator, and a great number of the Roman people, by their names : that another perfon, whofe name is not recorded, on hearing a poet read a new poem, claimed it as his own, and, for a proof, rehearfed it from beginning to end, which the real author could not do : and that Hortenfius, after fitting a whole day at a publick fale, gave an account from Mcmoiy, in the evening, of all the things fold, with the prices, and the names of the .purchafers j and that this account, when compared with what had been taken in writing by a notary, was found to be. exadt in every particular. I might alfo mention the noted ftory of the mathematician VVallis, who, in 30 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. IL in bed, and with his eyes fliut, extrafted the cube root from a number confiftuig of thirty figures. Such force of Memory is wonderful : but, as an ingenious author obferves *, we have no more reafon to repine at the want of it, than at our not having the ftrength of Samfon, or the fwiftnefs of Achilles. If, in the diHribution of good, our fliare be equal to that of moft other men, it becomes us to be content and thankful. In fact, though fome men have no great capacity for that fort of learning which is found in books ; there are few, whofe Memory is not equal to all the common affairs of life ; and there is not, perhaps, one rational being, whofe Memory is unfufceptible of improvement. Some men of good underftanding complain of the weaknefs of their Memory : perhaps, becaufe they forget many things they willi to remember ; or find themfelves deficient in the knowledge of that to which in the early part of life they were inattentive. And fometimes, no doubt, this may be afteftation : for there are people in the world, who would have us believe, that their knowledge is derived rather from their own fagacity, than from the information of other men. But in fa61:, no perfon of good fenfe can with rea- fon complain of any great natural defeft in this way. For, with- out experience and knowledge, it is impoflible, in the common affairs of life, either to a6l, or to think aright ; and, where Me- mory is preternaturally defective, experience and knowledge will be deficient in proportion ; and imprudent condu(5l and abfurd opi- nion are the neceffary confequence. But, though to foundnefs of judgment Memory be elTential, it does not follow, that they who have great Memory have always found judgment. Extraordinary powers of Remembrance are fometimes coupled with a childifh underftanding. I have heard a * Idler. Numb. 74. — Other examples of extraordinary Memory, fee Pliii. Hid. vii. 24. 8 boy, Sea. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. jt boy, whofe faculties were in other. refpecls rather below the ordi- nary pitcli, repeat the gre.iteft part of a fermon after once hearing it. In the eaily part of youth, and long before judgment is ma- ture, the Memory is often very tenacious, even when no pains has been taken to improve it : and there are inftances of men, who, l)y reading too much, and overloading their Memories, have fallen into a ilate of weaknefs, little fliort of infanity. That too much learning may make one mad, is an old opinion ; and examples arc not wanting to juftify it, even at this day. Yet neither, on the other hand, is extraordinary Memoiy any proof of a defedtive underftanding. Themillocles, Cefar, Cicero, Seneca, and many others that might be mentioned, were men of the greateft abilities, as well as of very great Memory. Perhaps it will be found, that without extraordinary Memoiy there is feldom or never extraordinary genius ; but that great genius does not al- ways accompany great Memory. Ariftotle is careful to afcertain the difference between Reniem- brance and Recollection J or (what may be called) Pa (Tive and Ac- tive Memory. He maintains, that all animals, who are confcious of time, have the farmer ; but that, of the latter, man is the only known animal who is capable; for that Recolle£lion implies in- veftigation, and feveral other efforts of rationality. And he re- marks, I believe juftly, that men, who excel in PafTive Remem- brance only, are for the mofl part of flow capacity ; but that they, who have in a great degree the talent of Recollection, are of quick parts, and docile *. Some men have a talent for remembering names, dates, o-enea- logies, and the hke : while others, not inferior in underlfanding, remember fuch things imperfectly, though they retain with fufh- ♦ Ariftotle, on Remembrance and Recolledion, chap. i. and 2. cient 32 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. XL cient exaflnefs the general fenfe of what they read and hear. Some Memories are mofl tenaciovis of narrative, and others of moral re- fle6lions ; fome of verfe, and others of profb ; fome of aphorifms, and fome of reafonings. Among ftory-tellers too, there are many varieties : fome being captivated chiefly by httle tales of wit and humour ; fome by the publick bufmefs of the nation ; and fome by paflages of hiftory : fome give yon anecdotes of authors, and fome of ftatefmen and kings ; fome expatiate on the rife and pro- cedure of lawfuits, and ibme upon the tranfaclions of private fa- milies. Theie are perfons expert enough in the common affairs of life, who could never have made a figure in the literary world ; there are {Indents of profound erudition, who know little or no- thing of the affairs of life : and fome are equally diftlnguifhed as men of learning, and men of bufmefs. Memory is in fome men tenacious from their infancy ; and fome there have been, who found much difficulty in learning to read, but afterwards made good pro- grefs in literature. There are, who foon commit a thing to me- mory, and foon forget it ; and fome acquire flowly, but remember long. Some readily recal their knowledge, whenever they have oc- cafion for it ; others with a retentive Memory have a tardy Recol- lection. — Of thefe varieties, fome may no doubt be accounted for, as hinted already, from habits of attention, or of inattention, con- tracted in the beginning of life ; from the prudence, or indifcre- tion, of our firft teachers ; and from the company and converfation, the amufements, and employments, that have been mofl familiar to us : but of others, one can hardly give any better account, than that they are conflitutional. But, whatever we determine concerning their efficient caufes, it may, in regard to their final caufe, be confidently affirmed, that they are of the greatefl utility : as they give different turns to hu- man genius, and fo djfpofe men to different purfuits ; an d as they 4 " promote Sea. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 33 promote variety of converfation, and make men more amufing and more inftru6live to one another, than we could have been, if all had attended to, and remembered, the fame thinsrs. Scholars, who aflbciate with none but fcholars, may improve in learning : but, if they would acquire a general knovvlecKe of human affairs, they muft frequent promifcuous company, in which are men of all capacities and callings. Hence let us learn to undervalue that narrow- mindednefs, which inclines fome people to avoid the fociety of thofe, who cannot talk to them in their own profeffion. A man of fenfe and virtue is in every condition re- fpe6lable, and may contribute to the improvement of the greateffc philofopher. He, who diflikes another for peculiarity of genius, fets an example, according to which he himfelf becomes the object of diflike ; and betrays his infenfibility to a moft wife inftitution of Providence, from which human fociety derives many of its beft comforts and ornaments. As well might he, on obferving the va- rieties of animal nature, exprefs diffatisfaftion, that fome creatures fliould have been endued with flrength, and others with fwiftnefs ; fome enabled to feed us with their milk, and others to cloath us witli their wool ; fome fitted for domeflick ufe, and others for the bufinefs of the field ; and infift, that it would have been better, for us and for them, if they had all been of the fame kind, and poflelfed the fame faculties. In the beginning of life, both fenfe and intelle6l are imperfecl j and therefore Memory mufl: be weak. Nay, it is probable, that in early infancy there is no lafling remembrance even of the moft lively fenfations. I know a blind gentleman, of very acute parts, who retains no idea of light or colour, though he did not lofe his eyes till he was three years old : and yet, light is one of the fird things that attract the notice of an infant, and feem to give him pleafure. And there are not many pcrfons, who remember any F thins ^4 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. II. thing that happened previous to their fourth or fifth year. An in- fant, however, foon comes to kiipw the face of his nurfe j though after weaning he foon forgets it : and, when he begins to fpeak plain, he acquires, with httle attention, a vail multitude of words in a very fhort time. At the age of fix years, he will learn the common words of a language in lefs than twelve months, if he hear it continually fpoken ; v.-hich, as he acquires the pronuncia- tion, and accent, as well as the meaning, is a proof, not only of quick Memory, but alfo of an exadt ear, and of great flexibility in the organs of articulation. Yet, while his Memoiy is fo very fuf- ceptible, it is for the moft part equally deficient in the retentive power, unlefs conllantly exercifed : for a child of fix years, going abroad, lofes his mother-tongue, as fail as he gets the foreign language. As we advance in life, the acquifition of languages becomes more and more difficult ; the talent of remembering new words decays gradvially ; nor is the ear fo quick in catching a foreign accent, or the organs of fpeech fo pliable in articulating unufual founds. Hence we fee the propriety of iludying languages in our early years. And fome think, that after forty we feldom make new at- tainments in this vi^ay : an opinion, vv^hich, though it may hold good in moil cafes, will however in many be found eironeous. The elder Cato is a memorable exception j who did not lludy Greek till he was very old, and yet made great progrefs in it. And Ogilvie, who tranflated Homer and Virgil, and, though no extra- ordinaiy poet, was a man of confiderable learning, is faid to have known little of either Greek or Latin, till, he was pail fifty. Study -the languages, therefore, while ye are young ; and ye will^cafily acquire them : but let not thofc? wf«,''^vho1b youth has Geen with- ;- cut culture, ever defpair of making a competent proficiency, while they are willing to beftow the neceifary pains. 9 I^ Sea. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. ^35 In youth, Memory is ftrong: for, then, our fenfat'ions arc keen ; the mind is not pre-occupicd, noi" diftradtcd by bufincfs or care ; curiofity raifes expectation ; novelty breeds wonder, furprife, and other lively paffions ; and almoft every ohjcSi gives either pleafure or pain, few or none being indifferent. In youth, how- ever, Memory may be confounded by too great variety, or by want of method ; may be deprived of its native vigour by habits of fuper- jficial obfervation ; or may be perverted by fixing on trifles. To prevent thefe evils, it was already fuggefted, that the minds of young perfons fliould be employed on thofe things only or chiefly, which are ufeful, which are level to their underftanding, which they may be brought to relifli, and which they are willing to fludy till they thoroughly comprehend. And fpccial care fhould be taken, to render their ftudies agreeable, to raife in them a love of knowledge j and, by hints and queftions occafionaily thrown out, to make them wifh for, and in fome degree anticipate, the infor- mation that is to be laid before them. For, by all thefe means, attention is engaged, and the Memory prepared for receiving a deep, and a durable impreflion. In mature age, there is lefs curiofity, and lefs enthufiafm ; the mind is fatigued by a multiplicity of concerns, and begins to lan- guifli under the prefliire of anxiety and the pain of difappointment. But then, the underftanding is in its moft perfeft ftate, experience has taught the ufe and the method of flnia attention, and Memory is improved by long exercife. In mature age, therefore, thou^-h Memory may be weaker, than in youth, in regard to the thin^-s tliat only afteft the fancy, there is for the mofl part a more Lifting' remembrance of what we judge to be important.— The antients divided human life into three periods; the growvig a^e, atas crefcens, which continues till thirty ; t\\Q fettled or middle age, cetas conjhim, b£t\veen thirty and fifty ; and the declining age, at as de~ ^ 2 clivist 36 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. II. clivis, from fifty till death : and fuppofed, that, till the end of the middle age, we are, or v/e may be, continually improving in knowledge ; and that, beyond that period, we are daily lofmg fome- what of our former attainments. This may be true in general ; but there are inftances of men retaining all their faculties, and all their knowledge, even to the clofe of a long life. In old age, however, fenfation for the moft part becomes lan- guid; the aifeftions decay, or are fwallowed up in fome one paffion; the mind is lefs fufceptible both of pain, and of pleafure ; curiofity and ambition are extinguiflied, either by gratification, or by dif- appointment; prefent things give little furprife, and the future awaken no fanguine hope : but former perceptions remain in the mind, accompanied (as the remembrance of our early days never fails to be) v^^ith ideas of delight, mellowed, like colours in a pic- ture, by length of time. Hence we fee old men forgetful of recent tranfaftions j which they affeftedly, or perhaps ferioufly, under- value, becaufe they do not bring along with them thofe pleafing emotions wherewith their youthful adventures were attended. Hence they delight to recapitulate the affairs of former times -, be- ftowing unbounded applaufe on the events and perfons that were then the objects of their admiration. This is the character of Neftor in Homer : and this is part of that admired defcription of old age, which Ariftotle and Horace have delineated, the one in his Rhetorick, and the other in his Art of Poetry. That certain difeafes are hurtful to Memory, was already ob- fei-ved. What phyficians call a weaknefs of the nervous fyflem often occafions a decay of this faculty. Dreaming, while it lafts, and every fort of delirium, whether continued or temporary, have a fimilar effcfl:. Drunkcnnefs impairs Memory; and, repeated often, terminates in early dotage. Even after a full meal, when preceded, as it always ought to be, by excrcife, the intellectual ij powers Sea. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 37 powers remain for an hour or two in a torpid ftatc; and then, nothing is more pernicious than ftudy, which, during this inter- val, prevents digcftion, inflames the eyes, ftupcfies the head, and after all is attended with no fuccefs. This at leaft is a common cafe : but there are exceptions. Mr. Hume, as I have been af- fured by thofe who knew him, could immediately after dinner en- gage in profound fpeculation, without being the worfe for it. The morning has oft been celebrated as a fj iend to the Mufcs, and confequently, to Memory their mother ; and, when their votary is in perfect health, perhaps it may be fo: but many are incapable of mental application, till the day be pretty far advanced. Mid- night, by its filence and coolnefs, is favourable to thout^ht ; but they who value health, which is more precious than learning, will never ftudy after fupper, if it can by any means be avoided. Night is the feafon of repofe, both to man and beaft, both to the mind and the body. Such is the law of nature; which he who violates will fooner or later repent the violation. Midnight ftudies occa- fion headachs, watchfulnefs, weak eyes, and broken fleep-: they oblige one to lie in bed till late in the morning, which relaxes the human frame ; and, by expofmg the lungs, for {o many hours, to an atmofphere loaded with the fteam of candles, they are apt to bring on afthma, confumption, and other dreadful maladies. The morning after breakfaxl, and the evening before fupper, are gene- rally found to be the beft feafons for exercifmg both Invention and. Memory. But different rules may fuit different conftitutions. 3$ OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. CHAP. III. Methods of Improving Memory. — Attention. — Recol- ledion. — Writing. — Converfation, &c. Direc- tions for committing Difcourfes to Memory. — Whether Sermons fhould be recited from Memory, or read. HA V I N G touched upon the more remarkable phenomena of Memory, I fliall now propofe fome rules for its improve- ment. This head will not take up much room, as I have antici- pated fome things which I meant to referve for it. To a well-improved Memory belong thefe three talents or facul- ties ; firfl. That of retaining eafily, and with little trouble of attention or repetition ; fecondly, That of retaining for a long time ; and thirdly. That of a ready recolleftion. — Or, to give it in the words of Roger Afcham, " A good Memory is well known " by three properties : that is, if it be quicke in receyving, fure in " keping, and redie in delivering furthe again." * For improving Memory in the firfl particular, I can propofe nothing more efte6lual, than frequent exercife, and a habit of firift Attention. He, who is ambitious to acquire this talent, will fet apart certain portions of his time, for the purpofe of exercifing his Memory, either by recolle<5iing what was formerly imprinted on it, or by making new attainments. And, that this exercife may be the more amufmg, as well as ufeful, he will be careful not to load his Memory with frivolous things, or inelegant compo- fitions, or with what he does not perfectly underfland. Nor is it * Afcham's Scliolemafter, my Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 39 my advice, that he flioukl, on thefe occafions, confine himfclf to fcrious matters, though they no doubt clahn his firft regard : hu- mourous writing, and jocular convcrfation, when friendly to virtue and good-manners, are a great relief to the mind ; and I once knew a boy, who having been, by the indifcreet zeal of his mother, kept continually poring on fcrmons, and obliged to commit them to Memory, loft his other faculties, and became ftupid. Iliftorical narrative, and poetical defcription, are alfo very proper for exer- cifmg Remembrance, and at the fame time for amiifing the fancy. I have already recommended habits of Attention ; and pointed out the method of rccolle6ling from time to time what we are reading, or have been hearing. What we have been doing, is alfo a matter, on which we cannot too often exercife our Memory. Seafons of felf-examination, at which our paft adions, thoughts, and purpofes, p^ifs in review before us, to be approved if we find them right, and condemned and reflified where they appear to have been wrong, are recom- mended by the divine and the philofopher, as indifpenfably requi- fite to moral improvement. They are not lefs fo to intelledual proficiency. They ferve to give us clear ideas of ourfelves and of other men ; to methodize our experience, and fix it in the mind j to enlarge and corre6l our knowledge of human affairs ; and fo to prepare us both for bufinefs, and for convcrfation. They are par- ticularly neceffary, when we are engaged in very a6live fcenesj for then ideas pafs through the mind {o rapidly, that, without habitual Recolledion, we muft forget a great deal of what it is our intereft to remember. Some men keep a record of the more remarkable occurrences of their life. They who fill ftations of importance ought certainly to do fo ; after the example of Cefar, and Cicero, and moft of the great men of antient times. And, though I will not affirm that this is equally the duty of others, I beg leave to fav, that of 40 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION". Chap. III. of feveral perfons in the middle and lower ranks of life, whom I have known to be pun6tual in this refpeft, I never heard one regret the time which he had employed on his journal. Facility of Remembrance is further promoted by a regular order and diftribution of things. A confufed difcourfe makes no impref- fion : and, of a number of unconnedted fentences if we remember two or three, we generally forget all the reft. But a methodical compofition, rightly divided into its feveral heads or members, which do all naturally illuftrate each other, and whereof none can be mifplaced or wanting without injury to the whole, is readily under- ftood and quickly remembered j becaufe, all the topicks being con- nected, the idea of one fuggefts that of another. It refembles a machine, whofe parts are put together and adjufted by the artift, and which by a perfon {killed in mechanicks is underftood, and remembered, upon being once examined ; while a confufed dif- courfe is like a parcel of wheels and pegs and fragments, lying to- gether in a heap, which, after repeated examinations, we can make nothing of, and which leaves no diftin6t imprefllon in the Memory. To talk upon a fubje6l, makes the mind attentive to it, and pro- motes facility of Remembrance. And, in this way, we may improve ourfelves by inftrucling the ignorant, as well as by converfmg with thofe who are fuperiour to us in wifdom, or equal. Every man, who can fpeak, thinks in fome one language or other: but, if our words only pafs internally through the mind, we fhall not fo well remember them, as if we had given them vocal utterance. Converfation, too, makes Recolle6lion, and fomething of arrangement, neceflary ; and obliges the fpeakcr to exprefs him- felf fo as to be underftood by others ; which is fometimes not eafily done, even by thofe who think they very well underftand their own meaning. By all thefe exercifes, Attention is fixed, and oar thoughts Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 41 thoughts are fet in a variety of lights ; and, therefore, we become more thorouglily acquainted with them, and more exa6lly retain them. For, in filent meditation, the mind is apt to be indolent; to quit a rabje(5l before it has obtained a clear view of it ; to efcape from thoughts that feem to be attended with any perplexity; and to follow every amufmg idea that may prefent itfelf, without caring how far it may lead from the prefent purpofe. Of fuch meditations the Memory retains little or nothing. But when we fpeak aloud, or converfe, our thoughts become more ftationary, and are better connecled, and more perfetlly underflood; and impreflions are made on the ear, as well as on the mind. Memory may be made both fufceptible and tenacious, and the underilanding greatly improved, by writing. I do not mean, by writing out common-places from books, — of which I have fpokcn in another place * ; but by putting what we think upon paper, and exprefling it in our own words. Our thoughts are fleeting, and the greater part of our words are forgotten as foon as uttered : but, by writing, we may give permanency to both ; and keep them in view, till, by comparing one with another, we make all confiftent, andfupply what is wanting, and amend what is erroneous. Thus attention is fixed; judgment is exercifed; clear ideas are conveyed to the underftanding; and the Memory is prepared for receiving adeep imprelTion. Let us, therefore, often write down, not only the fentiments we learn from books, and teachers, and conver- fation ; but alfo thofe that are peculiarly our own, of which a confiderable number may arife in the minds of moft men every day. And, though many of thefe might, no doubt, be forgotten without lols, yet fomc may be found worthy of a lafting re- membrance. * Sec, On ths Ufofulnefs of CJalTlcal Learaing, page 479, -jSo; third edition. G -■''•■■ And 42 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Ghfsp.IlI. And here let me caution my young reader againfr the practice of writing confufedly, inaccurately, or on loofe papers. It is as eafy, and far more advantageous, to \^rite corre6lly, ami legibly, with durable ink, and in. note- books provided for the purpofe, and carefully preferved. And, when a volume is finiflied, it will be an amufement, and a profitable one too, to read it over j to make an index to it ; and to write upon the cover fuch a title, or fummary of contents, as may ferve for a direftion, when afterwards you want to revife any particular paflage. And be not deterred, as fome are, from writing down a remark, by the apprehenfion that you may afterwards find it erroneous. I am not advifing you to publifli your thoughts to the v/orld, or even to all your acquaintance; but only to record them, for your own benefit, or for the infpe6tion of an intimate friend, in wliofe judg- ment, good-nature, and fidelity, you can truft. And what, though many of them be erroneous ? When you correct the erroi', be com- forted with this confideration, that you are wifer now, than you were before. No man is afliamed of having been once an infant; that being a ftate of imperfe6lion, which is common and neceiiary. Nor is it lefs necefiary, or lefs common, to acquire knowledge gra- dually, and to grow in wifdom as we grow in years. This practice of writing is much recommended by Cicero and Quintilian. The advantages of it are manifold. It not only makes us think, and remember, with accuracy -, but alfo tends to form the llyle, and to give us a command of words, and a pure and eafy elocution ; which in every ftate of life is a moil: ufeful talent, and highly ornamental ; and which, when accompanied with a found judgment and good addrefs, feldom fails to advance a man in the world. This pra6t ice alfo gives ftability to our thoughts, and puts it in our power to review and rectify them, as we grow wifer, and to mark our progrefs in ftyle and literature. In this way, too, we learn Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 4;^ learn to think for ourfeh'cs, and acquire in time a fVock of know- Icdi^e that is properly of our own growth : which is a proof, that our minds are really cultivated, and ferves as an encouragement to perfift in making luither acquifitions. — To a perfon grown old in the pur- fuits ol learning, and in the fludy of human nature, fuch a record, as is here propofed, of the progrefs of the underflanding in his early years, would be inexprefiibly amufmg, and very profitable. And, though one fhould not devote one's fclf to letters, nor liv2 to be old, fuch a record would be of great ufe in the improvement of one's mind and Memory, and would amply compenfate the labour of carrying it on. Frequent rec-jpitulations of what we learn, often to converfc about it, (where that can be done conveniently), and as often as we can to reduce it to pra(5lice, are almoft the only further mean.; that can be propofed, for rendering Memory tenacious. As to quicknefs of Recollection ; it depends chiefly on exercife, and on our being often in circumllances, in which it may be ne- ceflary for us to call to mind, and make ufe of, our learning. When thefe oj)ix>rtunides are wanting, let us however habitually revifc, and meditate upon, fuch parts of knowledge as we wifli to have always at command. Peifons, who frequently join in general converfation, or whofe profeffion obliges them to ipeak in publick, have for the mod part a facility of Rccolleflion, that furpiifes the reclufe fludent J who perhaps knows more than they; but who, for want of practice, cannot call to mind the thougJits he is in quefl: of tiH the opportunity of applying them be loft. This is a great misfortune. Remembrance, with tardy Recollection, is little better than forgetfulnefs. It is like thofe weapons, mentioned in the proverb, which are never at hand in the hour of danger ; or like thofe friends, who are always ready to help you, except when you have occafion for them. To thofe who labour under tiiis infirmity, G z 'it 44 OF MEMORY AXD IMAGINATION. Chap. III. it is, therefore, of great importance, to eKcrclfe themfelves fre- quently in Recolle6lion ; to cultivate a focial and communicative temper ; to enga2;e in the a6live fcenes of life j and fomctimes, when alone, to make fpeeches extempore, on any occafional fubject. Thus they will acquire that felf-command in fpeaking, and that prefence of mind in company, without which one is rather en- cumbered, than afiifted, by one's learning. A methodical courfe of ftudy, a love of order, and a habit of diflributing our knowledge into claffes, and referring every new acquifition to its. proper head, will alfo be of ufe in promoting a ready Recolkclion. A merchant, who keeps regular books, can inftantly turn to the record of any tranfacStion, if he know the date, or the fubje6t of it, or the name of the perfon concerned in it: but they, who put everything in writing as it occurs, without any fubfequent arrangement ; or, in other words, who keep only a day-book, muft be often at a lofs, when they want to re-examine any article, ard may employ an hour to no purpofe in fearching for that, which the other would have found in a moment. In RecolLdlion, tlie cafe is nearly the fame, with thofe who are ac- cuftomed to arrange their ftudies accord' ng to a plan, as contrarted with others, whofe thoughts and whofe affairs are all in confu- fion. — Traders often revile tlieir books ; to fee whether every thing be neat, and accurate, and in its proper place. Stiuients, in like manner, fhould often revife their knowlege, or at leaft the more ufeful branches of it; renew thofe imprelTions on the Memory, which had begun to decay through length of time ; and be [particularly careful to retain the plan, or general arrangement, of every part of erudition. But, wliile I recommend method, I would warn you againft the ofteataticJn of it. This is called Formality j and has often given an awkward and finical air to perfons of a very worthy charatler. In Clmp.iri. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 45 In every work oC art, wliich requires labour, and admits cf elegance, llie chief point of ikill is, to conceal the art as much as poflible. The rule is anticnt; and has been found indifpenfible, not only in postry, oratory, and flyle, but alfo in manneis, and in much of the bufmefs of common life.. Converfation was recommended, as a means of improving Me- mory, both in the letcntive power, and in the talent of ready RecolIeclJon. But, for the benefit of fome young perfons, it may be neceffary to fubjoin a caution or two, in regard to this matter-. For, at fo great an expence as that of delicacy, we muft not fc.hj either tj acquire learning, or to improve Remembrance. Now, in company, it is our duty, to adapt ourieKes to the in- nocent humours and ways of thinking of thofc with whom w^e convejfe ; and it is uidelicate to obtiude our concerns upon tlv^m, or give fco, e to any of thofe peculiar. ties of behaviour, th .t dillin- guidi our own piofelTion, or the fmall focieties to wh'ch vv'c are aecuftom.d. The viol.tion of chis rule is called Pedantiy. It is offenlive to perfons of polite manners, and conveys a mean idea of the man in whum it has become habitual. And for this there is cood reafon. The Converfation of fuch a man fliotvs, that he does not deferve. the attention of others, bccaufe he is always tliinking of himfelf -, that he has not enlargement of mind for conr ceiving the clrcumltances and fentiments of his company, nor ten- dernefs and gcnerofity of nature to take part in them, or fympir thife with them j. and that his cufloiTiary aflbciatcs, among whom he has contra<5fed or confirmed thefe evil habits, niufi: be equally narrow-minded with himfelf. — Therefore^ unlsfs called upon to do fo, by the company, or by thofe who l.ave a right to piefide in it, the foldier ought not to expatiate on military affairs, nor. the tra- veller on his adventures, nor the hunter on hounds "and foxes, nor the fanner on Iiis improvements, nor the fcholar on his aa- thors. 46 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. thors. Soldiers with foldiers, farmers with farmers, and learned tnen with learned men, may talk in their refpe6live trades ; becaufe in this way they may pleafe and inftruiSl one another : but, where people are of different purfuits and charafters, the Converfation ought to be general, and fuch as all prefent, efpecially thofe to whom paiticular refpeSt is due, may be fuppofed to underftand, and to relidi. And, how much ibever we may be imprefled with what we have been reading or meditating, and however defuous we may be to digeft and remember it, we are not entitled to make it an objeft of general attention, unlefs we have 'reafon to believe it will be generally agreeable. At tliis rate, you will perhaps imagine, that General Converfa- tion cannot be very edifying. And true it is, that people do not join in it, with a view to inflru6V, or to be inllruded, in the arts and fciences. Thefe are to be acquired by ftudy and contempla- tion, by frequenting fchools of learning, or by attending thofe •private focietics or clubs, which men fometimes form for the fal^e of mutual improvement. But people refort to general company, to relieve themfelves for a while from the anxieties of life, to rc- frefh the mind after the fatigues of ftudy or of labour, ajid to im- prove and pleafe one another by a mutual interchange of kind words, and benevolent attentions. Nor think, becaufs idle words are prohibited In Scripture, that therefore every thing we fay in company ought to tend to the illuf- Iration of truth. Idle words ought furtly to be prohibited, and avoided. And all thofe words may be fo called, which produce .either no cffeJl, or a bad one ; or which proceed from motives ithat are cither not good, orpofitlvely evil. But that Converfation, whic!) promotes the innocent amufement of our friends, and lb contributes to their health and happinels ; or which, by exprefling our benevolence towards them, cherilbes that temper in us, and 4 gives Chnp. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATrONT. 47 gives an example for the encouragement of it in others; — Conver- sation, I fay, of this chara<5ter is not idle, becaufc it is favourable to virtue, and friendly to mankind. Nor is Converfation, even in general comjiany, Dninfiruflive. From it we may dei'ive much material information, in regard to the charadters and pafilons of men, the cuftoms of the world, the ti"an fad ions of paft and of prefent times, and many other particu- lars of no lefs moment. Illiterate men, by fj-equenting polite circles, often acquire fuch a fund of intelligence, as makes them equally inftrudive and entertaining, liooks are certainly very ufe- ful. But the time was, when they were not common. Yet, at that time, men had fenfe, and knovvlege too j and there were great ftatefmen, great poets, and great philofophcrs ; and greater com- manders, and orators, than have appeared in the world ever fince. Whence, then, did they derive their greatnels ? From genius, from experience, from thought -, partly no doubt from books ; and alfo, from that grand vehicle of neceffary knovvkge, Converfation. Sermons are almoft the only fort of continued difcourfes, which it is in this countjy the cuftorn to get by heart. To fuch readers, as may at any time think fit to coinply with this cuftom, the fol- lowing diredions will be ufcful. They are intended for the benefit of thofe, whofe Memory, is neither very bad nor very good. Ex- traordinary Memories have no need of them. I. As a general preparative both to the remembrance, and to the compofition of Sermons, let it be your care to acquire a com- petence of theological learning, and to be intimately acquainted with the fentimcnts and phrafeology of Scripture. P^or that is well remembered, which is well underlf ood : and paifages of Holy Writ form a confiderable, and, v/hen judicioufly feleded, the moil valuable, part, of the preacher's difcourfe. If, therefore, you arc well inftruded in theology, the argument of every Sermon will be fami'iar .^8 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. familiar to you; on every fach argument your mind will be ftored with a great variety of expreflion j you can never be at a lofs for toplcks ; and your quotations will be.no burden to your Memory. 2. The difcourfe we are to get by heart we muft ourfelves com- pofe ; otherwife, the labour of committing it to Memory will be fuch as to mofc minds would be infurmountable. And it muft be accurately compofed, and have in it nothing obfcure or fuper- fiuous. For whatever puzzles the underftanding is an incum- brance to Memory ; and what Horace obferves of words is equally .true of thoughts, Omne fupervacuum pleno de pe6lore manat j ■** every fuperfluity is loft, like water poured into a veffel already full." Befides, let it be obferved, that a Sermon is defigned for the good .of thofe who hear it J and ought therefore to be attended to, and remembered by them. But, if you mix it up with words, phrafes, or doctrines, which they do not underftand, they will not attend, and they cannot remember 5 fo that, inftead of good, it will do harm, by inuring them to habits of inattention in regard to reli- ,gious truth. It muft alfo be a regular difcourfe, tending to the illuftration of fome one important topick -, and properly divided into diftinCl heads, v/hereof each is connecled with, and ferves to explain, the reft, and none can be mifplaced or omitted, with- out injury to the v/hole. For regularity and unity of defign make men attentive, and, as formerly remarked, produce clearnefs of perception and diftin6l remembrance. But let the h^ads of the dif- courfe. be few, and affedlnot too great fubtlety of divifion and fub- divifion : for this would diftracl the Attention, and overpower the Memoiy of the audience"; and never can be requifite in a pia6li- cal dilfertation, that is addreiicd to the people, and, as many wife men -think, ought not to be very long. 3. Let Chap. in. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 49 3. Let the difcourfe be written out, not in haftc, but delibe- rately, with your own hand, in bright- coloured ink, and in cha- racters that are dlftinil and legible, and moderately and unif'jrmly large J without contra(5lions, without long ftrokes or flouriflies of the pen, and as much as may be without blots or interlineations ; with reafonablc and equal fjiaces between the lines j and accu- rately pointed, and divided into paragraphs, as the fubjecl requires. To fome, who have not ftudied the laws of Memory, this may feem a frivolous rule : Lut 1 have formerly accounted for it ; and am confident, th-^t whoever makes the trial will foon have expe- rience of its propriety. 4. Let the fubjecl of the difcourfe be interefting to us, and the do6lrine fuch, as we ferioufly believe, and are anxious that others fhould believe and remember. This may look more like a precept of common honefty, than a rule for the affillance of Memory. And a precept of common honefty it is, no doubt -, for that man mull be a moft audacious hypocrite, who can folemnly deliver, as conformable to the Divine Will, and recommend to the belief of others, what he himfelf dift)elieves. But neither is this rule foreign from the prefent purpole. For it was mentioned, as a law of Me- mory, that what is agreeable to our own inclinations, and way of thinking, has a chance to be better remembered, than what we confider as a matter of indifference. 5. The talk of committing to Memory fhould be entered upon, when the mind is difengaged from bufmefs, and the body in health. If the mind is not vacant, Attention will be painful, and inter- rupted, and the Memory flow to receive any durable imprefhon. And if the health be difordered, intelledtual exertion, without con- veying any improvement to the mind, will only do harm to the body. There :ire certain hours of the day, during which one is better qualified, than at any other time, for invention, remem- H brance, 50 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. brance, and other mental exercifes. But the fame hours will not fuit all conftitutions, as already was obferved ; and therefore no general rule can be given in regard to the time that may be moft facccfsfuUy employed in the work we now fpeak of. I think it is I^ord Verulam who fays, that, in exerting any faculty with a view to form a habit, two fcafons are chiefly to be laid hold onj the one, when we are beft difpofed to acl ; the other, when we are woril: difpofed : that, by improving the former, we aft eafily, and make great progrefs -, and that, by a frequent ufe of the latter, we overcome relu6fance, and at laft acquire a habit of doing the. a6tion with eafe, whenever it is necefTary. This may be an excellent method of cherifliing moral habits ; as virtue is at all times friendly to happinefs, and never can be unfeafonable. Eut^jn bodily or in- tellc6lual exercifes, I apprehend that this rule is not quite fo proper? at leaft for perfbns of a delicate conftitutibn. In attempting, for example, to acquire a habit of running, or even of walking, when the ftomach is full, a valetudinarian might foon deftroy himfelf j and in the fame circumftances it may be equally detrimental to engage in any fatiguing ftudy. To force the mind to exert itlelf in remembrance, invention, or profound inquiry, at a time when both mind and body are inclinable to reft, is hkely to be attended with bad confequences ; and therefore, unlefs when neccffary, ought not to be attempted. After dinner, a ftudious ^man may converfe, or faunter in the fields, or read an amufing book, : -or .en- tertain himfelf (as Milton is faid to have done) with niufick 3 but he will do well to refrain from every laborious exercife, both men- tal and corporeal, till digeftion be pretty far advanced, and his fpi- rits begin to regain their wonted alacrity. 6. While we are committing any thing to Memory, it may be profitable to fpeak flowly, and with propriety, and to fpeak aloud. For thus. Attention will be fixed ; an appeal made to two Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION". 51 two fcnfes at the fame time, and no habits contraded of faulty- pronunciation. 7. It lias been doubted, whether the Memoiy fliould be cliargod with each particular word of what we get by heart ; or whether it may not be fufficient, if we remember the whole meaning, and the greater part of the expreflion. The former may perliaps be thought unnecefTary ; and yet I believe i-t is the beft method, for thofe who would acquire the talent of exaft remembrance. Yet I do not propofe this as a rule without exception : for there is rea- fon to fear, that fome Memories are by no means equal to fuch a taflc. But, on the other hand, let us bear this in mind, that the more we indulge Memoiy, or any other faculty, in habits of in- dolence, the more difficult it will be for us to improve it to that pitch of vigour, whereof nature may have made it capable. 8. Let us never, by ftudy of any kind, overload Memory, or overftrain our faculties ; for this would briuG; difcourasement, in- capacity, and bad health. We ought to begin with eafy tafks, and advance by degrees to fuch as are more difficult. A clergyman, a particular friend of mine, has often told me, that, when he com- menced preacher, it was the labour of many days to get his fermon by heart; but that, by long praftice, he has now improved his Memory to fuch a pitch, that he can, by two hours application, fix one in his mind fo efie£lually, as to be able to recite it in pub- lick, without the change, omiffion, or tranfpofition, of the fmallcfl: word. To me this fatl feems extraordinary ; for I am certain of its truth : but I learn from it, that, by patience and long pra6lice, much may be done for tlie improvement of our nature, and that none of our faculties are more improveable than Memory. What toil and perfeverance, in cultivating the bodily powers, muft it re- ■quire, to qualify the tumbler for thofe feats of adivity, with which he altonilhes mankind ! When we firft fee tliem, we can hardly H 2 believe 52 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. believe our eyes : he feems to perform what till now we thought impoffible. Were we to take equal pains in the improvement of our intellectual and moral nature, which are furely not lefs fuf- ceptible of cultivation, who can tell to what heights of excellence, and of happinefs, \yc might at length arife 1 9. The difcourfe which we would get by heart we mufl: under- iland, not only in general (for that we cannot fail to do, if we compofe it) but in eveiy fentence, and in every word. And if there be in it any word, or fentence, which is not fufficiently clear, let us either make it clear, or expunge it. There are certain quo- tations from Scripture, and other theological phrafes, which in compofing fermons almoft every preacher makes ufe of, though every one is not at pains to afcertain their fignification : and it often happens, efpecially in our firft attempts at writing, that we think ourfelves perfectly fkilled both in expreflions, and in doc- trines, which yet we underftand very little. It is therefore incum- bent on us, for the benefit of our readers and hearers, as well as ourfelves, and in order to improve our underflanding, as well as to facilitate remembrance, that we examine our own meaning with the moft critical exaclnefs. If a difcourfe, or any part of it, be fuch as we fhould find it impoflible to give a fummaiy of; if any fentence appear to be inferted, rather for the purpofe of lengthen- ing the paragraph, than of illuflrating the thought, or rather to improve the found, than to clear up the fubjeft ; if any word or paflage can be fpared, without taking away from the empl:afis, or the connexion : — thefe are all fymptoms of inaccuracy; and ought to put us upon re-confidering what we have written, and making the neceflary amendments, before we begin to commit it to Me- mory. For we may be afTured, that this exercife will be more or lefs difficult, according as the difcourfe is lefs or more free from inaccuracy, obfcurity, and redundance, Laftly, Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 53 Laftly, while cngiged in this work, let us encourage agreeable paflions, as hope of luccefs and improvement, and a fenfe of the value of a cultivated Memory, and of the importance of that which it is our ambition to remember. Light (pirits arc favourable to every fort of exertion ; but a defponding mind is generally unfuccefsful. And here, it may not, perhaps, be improper to make a few remarks on the expediency of pronouncing Sermons from Memory : and I make them the more willingly, becaufe what I have to fay on this head may be comfortable to thofe young men, whofe Me- mory, like my own, inclines rather to weaknefs, than to flrcngth. FirlT:, then, it can admit of no doubt, that every publick fpcaker and teacher ought to be able to fpeak from Memory, or even without premeditation, as the circumflances may require ; and flioulJ, therefore, now and then pra6life extemporary fpeaking, and ftudy to acquire a readinefs of apprehenfion and a command of words, and take every prudent method he can think of, for im- proving Remembrance. Secondly, They whofe faculties are uncommonly fufceptible ; who can retain a Sermon after once or twice reading it; or who, like the gentleman above-mentioned, can commit one to Memory in two or three hours, may, at all times, or as often as they choofe, preach without notes -, efpecially, if they have con- fidence in their Recolle6lion, and can divefl themfelves of anxiety. But many men there are, of good parts, who, from natural bafh- fulnefs, or from bodily weaknefs, or from having been in danger of expofmg themfelves through a fudden failure of Memory, cannot depend on their prefcnce of mind, or quicknefs of Recolleftion, when they appear in publick; though in the ordinary affairs of life they have no reafon to complain of this faculty. Such perf ms ought not to preach without papers. If they do, it will be injurious both to themfelves, and to their hearers. To themfelves ; by tormenting 54 OF MEMORY AND i.MAClNATION. Chap. III. tormenting them with lolicitude, to the great prejudice of their health. And to their hearers : becaafe the fear of forgetting will' take off their attention from the management of their voice ; the confequence whereof is, that they will fpeak without that energy which imprefles the meaniiig on the auclience ; and may, more- over, contradt b.^.d habits of drawling, canting, helitating, or quick fpeaking; which are all difagreeable to rational hearers, and make every hearer inattentive; and the moft eloquent Sermon infipid. Thirdly, Thofe preachers who, after much practice, cannot commit a difcourfe to Memory in lefs than tvv'o days, (and this, I believe, is a common cafe) fhould never in my opinion attempt it ; except, perhaps, on extraordinary occafions, when they may be obliged to fpeak with e'afe and elegance, and yet have no opportunity of reading. Two days every week are almoft a third part of human life. And when one confiders, that the fermons thus committed to Memory are forgotten as foon as delivered, which is alfo a common cafe, who would not regret fuch a wafte of time .'' At this rate, of thirty years employed in the miniftry, there are almoft ten con- fumed, — in what ? in drudgery more laborious, and far more un- profitable, than that of a fchoolboy ; — in loading the Memory with words, which are not remembered for three days together. Would not the preacher hax'^ laid out thofe years to better purpofe, in giving correftnefs to his pubhck difcourfes, or in other improving fladies ; or in vifitingand inftrucling the neighbours j or in agricul- ture, and the like liberal amufements ? — Befides, in thefe circum- ftances, a clergyman can never preach- without long preparation ; nor, if at any time his health fliould fail, without a degree of anxiety that may be detrimental to both his mmd and his body. Indeed, were Sermons that are pronounced from Memory found to have a more powerful etFe6l upon the hearer, than fuch as are read, I fliould not think this time altogether loft. But, if the preacher Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 55 preacher have learned to read well, (which he may, and ought to do), and if he write what he has to fay with that diftincl-ncfs whicli is here recommended, and prepare himfelffor thepuhhck exhibition by feveral private rehearfals at home, I am inclined to think, that he will pronounce with more conipofurc and felf-command, and with an enc rgy more becoming the pulpit, than if he were to fpeak from Kecolleftion. For, in the one cafe, his mind is at eafe, and he has nothing to do, but to pronounce : in the other, he pro- nounces and recoUefts at the fame time ; and is, befides, liable to mifhak-es and failures of Memory, and, if his nerves are not un- commonly'ftrong, to occafional tits of folicitude. — Why does a mu- fician choofe to play by book even the mufick that he remembers ? It is, beeaule, by taking in, with one glance of his eye, a number of contiguous notes, his mind is always difengaged, and he is every iwdvere the b?tter prepared for introducing the exprefTive touches,, and other necelTary ornaments. In like manner, a good reader will, if I miftake not, read more emphatically and with greater elegance, what he fees before him, and is v/ell acquainted with, ,than he. can pronounce what is fuggefted by continual ^ccolleflion 3 efpecially, if the difcourfe he has to deliver be of confiderable length. As to the eifeft upon the hearers : — if I am to judge by my own feelings, and truft to tlie declaration of many perfons of candour and fonfibility, I muft fay, that Sermons in the mouth of a good reader have a more powerful energy, than thofe that are fpoken- without book. The pathos may be lefs vehement, perhaps, but k is more folemn, and fcems better adapted to the place, and to the fubjccl. Preachers, indeed, there are, who lay claim to extraordi- nary gifts, and pretend to fpeak from fupernatural impulfe : and -there are hearers, who give them credit for this; and think, that what is written, and read to them, has too much the air of mere 8 human 56 OF MEiMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. III. human dofliine. But fuch a conceit is of no account in rational inquiry ; for it only proves, that the preacher is vain, and the people ignorant. But the orators of Greece and Rome fpoke from Memory ; and ftage-players do the famej and fenators, in debate, and lawyers, in their pleadings, would make a defpicable figure, if they were to read what they have to fay. This plea has been urged by men of fenfe, and deferves to be confidered. I. The orators of Gieece and Rome, in the forum, in the fenate, and before the judges, fpoke, with a view to determine their hearers to fome immediate refolution j and, if they gained this end, were not folicitous, whether it was by means of fair reafoning, or offophiftry; by fwaying the judgment, or inflaming the paflions j by giving ufeful information, that might be followed with lafling advantage, or by throwing out what had only plaufibility enough to produce momentary confequences. It was, therefore, neceffary, that, by the promptnefs of their eloquence, they fhould imprefs the hearers with a high opinion of their wifdom j fliould deliver their harangues with that vehemence, and thofe varieties of gefture, which command attention and applaufe j and fhould have their eye continually upon their audience, to obferve the effects of what was faid, that they might know how to change their topicks and manner of addrefs, according to the circumftances. How different are the views j and,- therefoie, how different ought the eloquence to be, of the Chriflian Divine ! He fpeaks the truth, and that only ; in order to inflru6l his people in matters, which they and he know to be of everlafling concern, and to eftablilli in them not momentary, but permanent principles, of piety and benevolence. His doclrines are all fuppofed to be col- lected with caution from the unerring word of God. He is re- quired, not only to fpeak with modcily and fobernefs, but alfo to 9 be Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. t,*] be fober and modcH: ; not to ovcipovvcr with vehemence, far Icfs to dazzle with fophidry, bat to prevail by motives urged in meek- nefs, and to perfuade by arguments founded in right reafon. His aim is, to dircd their attention, not to himfelf, but to God and their duty ; not to court aj^plaufe as an orator, but to do good to the fouls of men, and fet them an example of that humihty, con- trition, and pious hope, which become a man, a fmner, and a chriftian. In a word, if he have a right fenfe of the importance of his funftion, and of what it is in-cumbent on him to fay, and to do, a peculiar ferioufnefs, fimplicity, and unafpiring dignity, v/ill purify his flyle, modulate his voice, and characlerife his whole deportment. To read his difcourfe may, therefore, be graceful in him ; though in the Greek or Roman orator, it muft have been abfurd, and even impofiible. I hope it will not be thought prefumptuous in a layman, to have faid fo much on the elocution of the pulpit. It is a matter in which I am interefted, as well as others : and I hav^e not affirmed any thing concerning it, but v/hat I know to be warranted by reafon and Scripture. Let me confefs, however, that the fketch here offered is not the effefl of invefligation merely : it is a copy taken from the life. And they who have had the hnppinefs to obfervc, and to feel, that fubhme and apoftolick fimplicity, and that mild, though com- manding energy, which diftinguilh both the compofition, and the pronunciation, of a Hurd and a Porteus *, will be at no lofs to difcover the originals. 2. The bufmefs of the player is, not to inftru6i: the audience, or even to fpeak what he thinks j but to perform a part which" is avowedly fictitiaiis, and to pleafe by imitating nature. He mull affume a variety of paflions, joy, forrow, love, hatred", contempt, admiration, anger, jealoufy, defpair ; and fpeak and ad accord- * Now Bifliops of VVorceftcr and Chefter. 5? OF IVfEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. Ill, ingfy. It is his inteieft, to be admired, for his voice, motion, lliape, eyes, and features> for his power of fupprefTmg the emotions he feels, and of counterfeiting thofe he does not feeL Nay, I am forry to fay, but it is true, that, upon the modern ftage, one player mufb fometimes put on airs of debauchery, irreligiou, and impudence, which his foul abhors -, and another mufl: utter fei'.timents of innocence and honour, which in him all the world knows to be grofs hypocrify. Indeed, no two profefllons on earth differ more widely, than thofe of a chriftian m'mifter and a player : and as the compofureandhum-ilityof the pulpit would be intolerable on the ftage, theatrical vociferation and geflure mufl be equally fo ■ in the pulpit. In regard, therefore-, to modes of pronunciation and publick behaviour, nothing can be more abfurd, than to pro- pofe the one as a pattern to the other. Befides, let it be remembered, that the player's Memory is not burdened with. a long continued oration; and is, moreover, aflifted from time to time by a, prompter ; who is always ready to fuggefl what he is to fay or do, if he himfelf fhould be at a lofs : that the part which others bear in the dialogue ferves to remind him of his own : and that, during the performance, there are intervals of reft, in v/hich he may have recourfe to his papers, and refrefh his Memory. To fay, therefore, that a preacher muft fpeak without book, becaufe a player does fo, is furely unreafonable -, unlefs you are willing to allov/ prompters, and paufes, and intervals of recol- le6lion, to the former, as well as to the latter; which, as the one cannot difpenfe with, the other will never demand. 3; The cafe of fenators in debate, and of lawyers in their plead- ings, is equally foreign from the prefent purpofe. It is their am- bition, not only to vindicate their own fentiments or party, but alfo to confute whatever may be urged on the other fide. To commit a difcourfe to Memory, is not the preparation that will fit them for fuch a tafk; becaufe it muft often be impoiTiole for them to forefee witii Chap. III. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. ^9 with certainty, what topicks it may be requifitc to infift upon. Jt is by a perfect knowledge of the fub)e6l in queftion, and of the laws of his country, and by talents for extemporary Ipeaking, de- rived from nature and im})roved by habit, that the lawyer, and the fenator, is enabled to acquit himfclf with honour in his publicic appearances. And, of multitades whofe intercft it would be to excel in this way, how few are ever able to rife to diftindion ! In our two houfes of Parliament, there are about (even hundred and eighty members ; who, from their rank and education^ muft be coniidered as men of the highefl accomplifhments ; and yet the good fpeakers in this afTembly, the moll augull in the world, are not very numerous : a proof, that the mode of fpeaking, which there commands attention, is a talent not often met with, even among the moft enlightened of mankind. Now clergymen muft appear in publick every Sunday, prepared to inftru^t the people in their duty, and to advance nothing but what they are fuppofed to have ferioufly examined beforehand, and found to be agreeable to reafon and revelation. They have no oppoHtion to combat by extemporary arguments; and they are, and ought to be, accountable to the church, if they affert any thing repugnant to found doflrine. But fcnators and lawyers are allowed the greateft freedom of fpeech ; and, if they keep within the bounds of decency, are not refponfible for what they may urge in behalf of their caufe, or party. In Italy and France, fermons are generally pronounced witliout notes. But they are at the fame time accompanied with much thea- trical gefture 3 and the confequence is, that the people confider them rather as an amufement, than as a part of the church-fervice. In England, the eftabliflied clergy do for the moft part read their fermons: and England has produced a greater num.ber of goo i preachers, than any other country in Europe. I 2 4o OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. I v; CHAP. IV. Remarks on the Memory of Brutes. — Inferences. SHALL now make a few remarks on the Memory of Brutes. That many of them have this faculty, is undeniable. We find;, that whelps, as well as children, once burned, avoid the fire ; and that horfes, oxen, and dogs, and many other animals, not only have their knowledge of nature enlarged by experience, but alio derive from man various arts and habits, whereby they become ufeful to him, in war, hunting, agriculture, and other employ- ments. Mod: of thefe creatures know their fellows, and keepers : nay dogs and horfes learn to do certain things, on hearing certain words articulated. Beagles obey the voice of the hunter, and' pur- fue, or defift from pnrfuit, as he commands ; and the war-horfe is acquainted, not only with the voice of his rider, but alio with the fummons of the drum and trumpet; as hunting- courfers are, with the opening- of the hounds, and the found of the horn. Goats, iheep, and oxen, and even poultry, of their own accord, repair in the evening to their homes : parrots acquire the habit of uttering words ; and finging birds, of modulating tunes : and bees, after anexcurfion of feveral miles (as naturalifts afBrm) return, each ta her hive ; nor does itappear that they miftake another for their own, even where many are flanding contiguous. Lions fpare him who attends them, when they would tear in pieces every thing elfe r doves fly to the window where they have been fed ; and the ele- phant is faid to polfefa a degree of remembrance not many removes- from rationality. I might mention too the dog of Ulylfes, who- knew his mailer after twenty years abfence*j for the flory is- * Horn. Oiiyff. xvii. 300. probable. Chap.IV^. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. .' 6J probable, though it may not be true : as well as what is recorded in Aulas Gcllius, of Androclus and his lion-|-, who, havinj received mutual civilities from each other in the defarts of Africa, renewed their acquaintance vviien they met in the circus at Rome,, and were infeparable companions ever after. That tlie inhabitants of the water have Memory, we cannot doubt, if we believe, what Pliny, in his Natural Hiftory, Bernicr, in his account of Indoftan, and Martial, in fome of his epigrams J, have mentioned, of fifliej kept in ponds,, that had learned to appear ip order to be fed, when called by their refpedive names. Whether fliellfilhes, and fnails', and worms, and otloer torpid animals,, have at any time givea. figns of Memory, I am not able to determine. In fomc particulars requifitc to the prefervation of brutes, in- £lin6t feems to fuperfede the neceflity of Remembrance. Young bees, on the firft trial, extra£l honey from flowers, and fafhion their combs, as Ikilfully as the oldeft ; and the fame thing may be remarked of birds building their nefts; and of brute animals, in general, adopting, when full grown, the voice and the manner of life, which nature has appropriated to the fpecies. Some late au- thors pretend, that birds learn to fing fi'om their parents ; and that a lark, for example, which had never heard the lark's fong, would never fing it. But this I cannot, admit, becaufe my expe- rience leads to a different conclufion ; though I allow, that many animals have the power of imitating, by their voice, thofe of an- other fpecies. If this theory bcjuftj then a bird gets its note, as a man does his mother-tongue, by hearing itj and, therefore, the. fongs of individual birds will be as various nearly, as the languages^ of individual men ; fo that the larks of France would have one; fort of note, thofe of Italy another, and thofe of England a third,- t A, Gdliu?, V. 14. t Piin, Hirt. x, 89. Martini, iv. 30. x. 30*. I-wouIci^ 6ii OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. I would as foon believe, that a dog, which had never heard any other voice, than that of a man, or of a fwine, would not bark, butfpeak, or grunt. — Man is taught by experience, what is fit to be eaten, or to be drank. But brutes feem to know this by inftin6V. The mariner, who lands in a defert ifland, is cautious of tafting fuch unknown fruits, as are not marked by the pecking of birds. Dogs, andother animals, may be poifoned by the fuperiour craft of men ; but leave therh to themfelves, and they are feldom in danger of taking wh?jt is hurtful, though they fometimes fuffer from fwallowing too much of what is good. And fome of thefe creatures, when their health is difordered, are directed by inflin6l to the proper medicine. Without Memory, brutes would be incapable of difcipline ; and fo, their ftrength, fagacity, and fwiftnefs, would be in a great meafure unferviceable to man. Nor would their natural inftin6ls guard them fufficiently againft the dangers they are expofed to, from one another, and from things inanimate. Memory is alfo to them, as toVs, a fource of pleafure. For to this in part mufl: be owing the fatisfaclion that many of them take, in the com- pany of their fellows, in the friendOiip of man, and in the care of their offspring; of which lafl, however, their love and remem- brance laft no longer, than is neceiTary to the prefervation of the young. — ^But fuch joys, as we derive, from- the idea of danger efcaped, of oppofition vanquiflied, or of pleafure formerly pofTe fled, feem pecuUar to rational nature, and not within the fphere of the inferiour creation : for to produce them, not only Memory, but alfo confcioufnefs and recolleflion are neceflary. Brutes are en- grofled, cliiefly or only, with what is prefent : their Memory being rather a neceflary and inftantaneous fuggeflion, than a continued or voluntary a6t. For the forrow, that a dog feels for the lofs of his xnaftcr, a cow for that of her calf, and a horfe for that of his companion, Ghap. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 6j companion, is nothing more per'iaps, though it m^y continue for fomc time, than an uneafinefs ariiing from the fenfj of a prefent want. We can hardly fuppofc, that any thing then pafles in the animal, fimilar to what we experience, when we revolve the idea of a; departed friend. In a woi'd, I do not find fu fficient ground to believe, that they are capable of Recollection, or active Reriiem- brance; for this implies the faculty of attending to, and arranging, the thoughts of one's own mind ; a power, which, as. was formerly remarked, the biutes have either not at all, or very imperfefliy. Yet, let me not be quite pofitivc in this affirmation. Some of the more fagacious anim.als, as horfes, dogs, foxes, and elephants, , have occafionaliy difplayed a power of coi:itrivance, which ivotild feem to require retlcilion, and. a. more perfect ufe of Memory, than I have hitherto allowed tliat they p;)llefs. When a rider has fallen from his horfe in a deep river, there have been in fiances of that noble creature taking hold with his teeth, and dragging.. ' hitn alive to land by the flcirts of the coat. And let me here, for the honour of another noble creature, mention a facl, v>^hich was never before recorded, and which happened not many years ago • within a few miles of Aberdeen. — As a gentleman was walking acrc& the Dee, when it was frozen, the ice gave way in the m.iddle of the river, , and down he funk -, but kept himfelf from being car- ried away in the current, by grafping his gun, which had fallen athwart the opening. A dog, who attended him, after m.any fruitlefs attempts to refcue his maftcr, ran to a neighbouring village, and took hold of the coat of the firft perfon he met. The man was alarmed, and would have difengaged himfcif: but the dog regarded him with a look fo kind and fo fignificant, and en- deavoured to pull him along with fo gentle a violence, .that he, began to think there might be fometJiing extraordinary in tiie cafe, and fuffered himfelf to be conducted by die animal ; who brouglit 4. him -% GF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. blm to his mafter, in tune to fave his life *. — Was there not here, both Memory and Recollection, guided by experience, and by what in a hunian creature we fhould not fcruple to call good fenfe ? No : rather let us fay, that here was an interpofition of heaven ; who, having thought fit to employ the animal as an inflrument of this deliverance, was pleafed to qualify him for it by a fupernatural jmpulfe. Here, certainly, was an event fo uncommon, that from the known qualities of a dog no perfon would have expefted it : and I know not, whether this animal ever gave proof of extraordi- nary fagaclty in any other inftance. It is faid by Ariftotle, and generally believed, that brute animals dream. Lucretius defcrlbes thofe imperfeft attempts at barking and running, which dogs are obferved to make in their fleep ; and fuppofes, agreeably to the common opinion, that they are the effefts of dreaming j and that the animal then imagines himfelf to be purfuing his prey, or attacking an enemy. But, whether this be really the cafe ; or vi'hether thofe appearances may not be owing to fome mechanical twitches of the nerves or mufcles, rei'fdered by long exercife habitual, is a point on which nothing ican be affirmed with certainty. — Infants a month old fmile in their fleep : and I have heard good women remark, that the innocent babe is then favoured with fome glorious vifion. But that a babe fhould have vifions or dreams, before it has ideas, can hardly be imagined. This is probably the effect, not of thought, but of fome bodily feeling, or merely of fome tranfient contraflion or cxpanfion of the mufcles. Certain it is, that no fmiles are more * Tlie perfon tlius preferved, wliofe name was Irvine, died about tlie year 1778. His ftory has been much talked of in the neighbourhood. I give it, as it was told by h\n\k\T to a relation of his, a gentleman of honour and learning, and my particular .friend ; from whom I had it, and who read and approved of this account, before it •Wit to prefs> 7 «aptivatiug. Chap. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 6$ captivating. And Providence no doubt intended them as a fort of filent language to engage our love ; even as, by its cries, the infant is enabled to awaken our pity, and command our protection. Memory is in fome brutes accompanied with unaccountable circumftanccs. When a horfe, an ox, or a goat, returns home of his own accord from the pafture, it is not wonderful j being an effefl of Memory fimilar in all refpe61:s to what we experience in ourfelvcs. But when a bee, wliofe eyes from their extreme con- vexity cannot fee a foot before them, returns to her hive from a wide excurfion -, or Vv'hen a dog, that has been carried in a badcet thirty miles through a country which he never faw, finds his way a week after to his former dwelling, (of which I have known an inftance) — what can we fay, but that the fmell of thefe animals, or fome other faculty imknown to us, recals to their Memory pail perceptions, in a way that we cannot conceive! Indeed, where there are perceptive powers different from, or more exquifite than, any we enjoy, it is reafonable to think, that there muft be modes of remembrance equally furpalling our comprehenfion. And in bees, and dogs, and fome other animals, there fcem to be faculties, of the nature of fmejl, as far beyond ours in accuracy, as the in- formations conveyed by the fincft microfcope are fuperiour to thofe we receive by the naked eye. Yet, with all the helps he derives from inftinfl, or from more acute oigans of fenfe, how inferiour is the Memory of the moft intelligent brute to that of reafonable beings ! The djfpropoition is almofl infinite. Many of the irrational tribes arc unfufceptible of difcipHne : — how narrow mufl the fphere be of their remembrance ! Even the mofl docile foon reach the fummit of improvement; and the arts, or rather the habits, attainable by them, and within tlie power of human induftry to impreis upon them, are veiy few. Wholly delliitutc of fciencc, and of the powers of contemplation, K thcr 66 OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap, IV. they are alfo deficient in the recoIle6llve faculty ; without which we know how httle our Memory would avail us : and all ilcm unable to follow even the fliortefl train of thought, or attend to any thing that does not affect the fenfes. But of a human Memory, improved to no extraordinary pitch, how vail is the com.prehenfion ! With what an endlefs multitude of thoughts is it fupplied, by refle6lion, reading, and converfation, inlets of ideas denied to the inferiour animals ; and by an experience incomparably more diverfified than theirs, and withal fo modelled by our powers of arrangement and invention (which are alfo pe- culiar to man) as to be far more ufeful in itfelf, and much more diftindly remembered ! Things natural ; as animals, vegetables, minerals, foffils, mountains and vallies ; land and water ; earth and heaven; the fun, moon, and liars, with their feveral appearances, motions, and periods -, the atmofphere and meteors, with all the viciffitudes of weather : — things artificial ; as towns, llreets, houfes, highways, and machines, with their various appendages : — abfl;ra6t notions in regard to truth and falfehood, beauty and deformity, virtue and vice, proportions in quantity and number, religion, commerce, and policy, whci'eof the brutes know nothing, and which are the chief materials of human converfation : — thefe are fome of the general heads, under which may be arranged the ma- nifold treafures of human Memory. And under each of thefe heads, what an infinity of individual things are comprehended !^ Let a perfon, who has been as much in the world, as men of en- terprife commonly are, jevolve in his mind, how many human creatures he has been, and is, acquainted v/ith ; how much he remembers of their features, fhape, voice, fize, character, and fentim«nts, of tlieir relations, conne(51ions, and hiftory : let him then think of thofe men and vifomen, whom he never favv^ but has, heard and read of; and of tlic charadlers he may have feen exemplified ia Chap. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 67 in plays, poems, and other fabulous writings : and will he not be amazed, that his Memory fliould retain fo many particulars relating to human creatures onlyj who yet, in the general diftribution of human knowledge, do not perhaps form the moft copious clafs of things ? How numerous are the words even of one language ! He, who is mafter of four, muft be fuppofed to retain two hundied thou- fand words at leafl, with all the different ways of applying them according to rule, and innumerable paffages in books to illuftrate their meaning. And that four languages do not exceed the capa- city of an ordinary man, will not be denied by thofe, who be- lieve, with Pliny and Quintilian, that Mithridates underftood two and twenty. But who can reckon up, or even give a general arrangement of, all the objedls, notions, and ideas, that one human mind may remember ! And, is it not remarkable, and truly wonderful, that, the more an improved Memory retains, the greater is its capacity ? Was it ever faid, by any perfon of a found mind ; My Memory has received all it can receive, and I never from tliis hour delire to hear any new thing ? — Let us hence learn to fet a proper value on the dignity of the human foul j and to think of its intell,.'<5lual faculties as incxprefTibly fupcriour, both in kind and in degree,' to thofe of the animal world. If we be capable of endlefs improve- ' ment, (and what reafon is there to believe that we are not?) furcly our deftination muff: be different from theirs; for the Author of ' nature does nothing in vain : and an underftanding, far more limited than that of man, would be fufficient for all the purpofes of a creature, whofe duration is circumfcribed by the term of an hundred years. Our minds, therefore, muft have been deflined" for fcencs of improvement more extenfive and glorious,' than theie below; and cur being to comprehend periods more durable, than thofe which are meafurcd out by the fun. This fpeculation forms K 2 a proof. 6S OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Clra]>.lV.- a proof, by which, the wi-fer heathens were led to believe in the immortality of the foul. Thus reafoned TuIIy, in the perfon of the elder Cato : " Why fliould I enlarge ?" fays he, " Huce the " aftivity of the mind is fo great; fnice it remembers fo much of " what is paft, anticipates fo wifely what is to come, and is capable: " of fo many arts, fciences, and inventions^ of this I am per- " fuaded, and thus I believe, that the being polfeffed of fucli en- *• dowments cannot be mortal." * Thefe reflei5lions lead me to animadvert a little on two flrange conceits of the modern philofophy. The firft is, that human facul- ties aie fo like thofe of other animals, that, if the form of their: bodies were but a little more fimilar, we might charafterife men,, by calling them fagacious brutes j and brutes^ by faying, that tliey are imperfect men. For the v/riters I allude to will hardly admit,, that there is one original faculty in the former, which is not in- fo me degree in the latter; Infmuating, that the difference, where. there is any, is owing rather to habits and expejiences obtained by means of a more or lefs exquifite formation of bodily organs,, than to any thing effential in the frame of the mind. Nay, fame, have gone fo i ar as to fiy, or at leaft to make us fuppofe it is their belief, that man's primitive (late was a ft ate of brutality; that in; it he enjoyed more health and happinefs than he does now ; that he. becomes the more imperfe61:, the more he deviates from the brutab chara6ler; and that, if he did as he ought to do, and as nature, intended he fliould, he would go naked, and on all four.— As long as men believe hiftory and their fenfcs,, it, will not be neceffary tO' combat the latter part of this doctrine. Of the former I fhall only, lay. Let thofe acquiefce in it who can. He, who is ambitious to claim confanguinity with the hearts, will .not be much inclined to, * Cicero de Seneflute, cap. n. read Chap. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. &g. read any thing I write ;. and therefore I may leave him to himfclf. — Brutes, no doubt, as well as men, have tlie power of retaining part: perceptions : but, after wliat has been fald) I prefume it will appear, tliat they who compare this power, as it is in man, with what is called Memory in a brute, and difcern no cllential dilferencc, may as well find out, that gnats and whales are the fame fort of animal, and that the hifTmg- of a goofe is an exai5l imitation of the thunder of a fea-engagement,. That thera is in the univeife a fcale rifing, by gradual afccnt, from nothing up to Deity, is another modern conceit, not kfs- abfurd than the former; though, on account of certain names who have patronized it, fomewhat more refpe6lible.. If brutes: come next to men in this imaginary Icale, fure it cannot be faid. to rife gradually. I. allow indeed, that horfes are fwifter- and flronger than men j and that many animals have faculties ot per- ception and a6tion that we have not; tlie fwallow, for example, which can fly.; the dolphin, which can live under water j and the bee,, which, can extract honey from flowers. But in every refpedl wherein they can be compared, how far is the rational nature above the irrational ! We have feen, that even in regard: to Me- mory, which is common to both, the diflance is inconceivably great. What then fhall we think of this diftance, when we confider it with a view to thofe powers, which form the glory, and. indeed the diflinguilliing chara6ter of man ; I mean, our capacities of fpeech, invention, and fjience, and thofe particulars in our frame, that entitle us to the denomination of mora), political, and re- ligious beings ? There is indeed, a boundlefs variety in nature : and a fcale gradually afcending might poflibly be traced in fome clafles of being ; as in the degrees of fagacity which belong todif-- fcrent brutes, and of intelligence as it appears in different men. But, yo OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. But, how abfurd is it to talk of an univerfal fcale of things, when many of thofe thuigs or ideas, that are mentioned as contiguovis, are known to be feparated by intervals of infinite extent ! For fiich we niuft fuppofe the interval to be, between exiftence and nothing ; between plants and animals ; between a creature unconfcious and irrational, and fuch a creature as man ; and, which is flill more apparent, between the higheft order of created things, and the fupreme, independent, and infinitely perfe6l Being, who is the Author of all. In a fcale of beings, or a feries of ideas, faid to rife, one above another, by gradual afcent, we mufl imagine (if the words have any meaning) the contiguous beings or ideas to have fome qualities in common, or at lead to have funilar qualities, differing, not fo much in kind, as in degree. But in exiflence, for example, what quality is there, which can be underflood, in any degree, or in any kind, to belong to non-exiflence ? In what refpe6l can that which is not organized be faid to ap- proach to that whicli is ; or dry, barren mould to refemble the fabrick of a vegetable? Again, animals have fenfation; plants have not : how can fenfation, and the want of it, be confidered as degrees of the fame, or of kindred qualities ! Moreover, mtm is capable of fcience, and endowed with confcioufnefs, and a moral principle : can he, then, be fuppofed, in thefe rel]iects, to be , elevated, one degree only, above animals, that are dellitute of a moral principle, and incapable of contemplation ? Or does the wealth of him who has no wealth (if I may fo fpeak) bear any proportion to that of a rich man ? — And, laftly, is it poITible to imagine, that any created being, the mofl glorious that can be conceived, fliould ever, after innumerable ages of improvement, approach within any dillance lefs than infinite, of the Almighty, Eternal, and Self-exiflent Creator ? 6 Humble Chap. IV. OF MEMORY AND IMAGINATION. 71 Humble as we ouc^ht to be, under a fenfe of our great and many imperfections, let us however entertain a right idea of human nature; remembering, that it was made in the image of God, and that it is deftlncd for immortahty. And, in all our inquiries, let it be our care, to guard againft prejudice and vain theory, and confine our views to matters of fail, and to plain and pra6lical truth. yt OF IMAGINATION. Chap. I. OF IMAGINATION, CHAP. L <}eneral Account of Imagination. ACCORDING to the common ufe of words, Imagination and Fancy are not perfectly fynonymous. They are, in- deed, names for the fame facukyj but the former feems to be appUed to the more folemn, and the latter to the more trivial, exertions of it. A witty author is a man of lively Fancy ; but a fubiime poet is faid to poflefG a vafl Imagination. However, as thefe words are often, and by the bed writers, ufed indifcrimi- nately, I fliall not further diflinguifh them. / In what refpe6t Imagination and Memory differ, was formerly explained. When we remember , we revolve or revife paft per- ceptions, with a view to our experience of them, and to their .reality. When we imagine, we confider the notion or thought now prefent to the mind, fimply as it is in itfelf, without any view to real exiflence, or to pail experience. Thoughts fuggefled by Memory may alfo be confidered in this way : in which cafe they become what, in the flyle of modern philofophy, would be •called Ideas of Imagination. Thus the features of a portrait, or of a perfon, whom I faw feme time ago, may occur to my mind, and be for a while contemplated, without my confidering, whether I ever faw fuch a thing before, or whether the idea be, or be not, a ficlion of my own fancy. And fometimes, there will remain in the mind the idea of a particular event, of which we cannot fiiy, whether we learned it from information, or only dreamed of it. 4. Addifon, Chap. I. O F I M A G I N A T I O Ni 73 Addifon, fpcaking of fight, in the four hundred and eleventh paper of the Spectator, fays, " that it is the faculty which fur- *' niflies the Imagination with its ideas ;" and, a little after, he adds, " that we cannot have a finglc image in the fancy, that " did not make its firft entrance through the fight." — If by the term Image he mean, what he elfevvhere calls, and what is com- monly underflood by the word, idea, it will follow, from this account, that men born blind, or who retain no Memory of light and colour, can have no Imagination. But this is not agreeable to fa6l. I am particulai'ly acquainted with a perfon *, who, having at the age of five months loft his fight by the fmall pox, retains not the idea of any thing vifible ; and is yet a good poet, philofo- pher, and divine, and, in a word, a moft ingenious, as well as a mofi: worthy, man. He dreams too, as frequently as other people ; and dreams are univerfally afcribed to the fancy : and his writings prove, that he pofi"efl!es, what every critick will allow to be, and what Addifon himfelf would have called, a fublime Imagination. Invention is by all philofophers confidered, as an operation of the fame faculty. Now one may invent, and confequ;ntly imagine, tunes, or fentiments, which one never heard or faw; and which cannot be perceived hy Jight, till committed to writing. — It would appear then, that Addifon's ufe of the word in queftion is rather too limited, when he fays, that ideas derived from fight are the ■only objeds of Imagination : which yet, perhaps, may have been the opinion of thofe, who firft diftinguifhed this power of the mind by a name derived from the word image. Some authors define Imagination, " The fimple apprehenfion of *' corporeal objects when abfent." But the common ufe of lan- giiage would warrant a more comprehenfive definition. The * The Reverend Dr. Blacklock of Edinburgh. L anxiety -74 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. I. anxiety of a mifei-, and the remoi fe of a murderer, are not cor- poreal objefhs ; and yet may be imagined by thofe who never felt them. Shakefpeare, v/ho was neither a murderer nor a mifei", but on the contrary poflefled a generous and benevolent heart, has ex- preffed thefe feelings in fuch a manner, as will fatisfy every reader, that his conception of them was equally juft and lively. r'^n the language of modern philofophy, the word Imagination j kerns to denote ; firft, the power of apprehending or conceiving ideas, funply as they are in themfelves, without any view to- their reality : andfecondly, the power of combining into new forms, or I affemblages, thofe thoughts, ideas, or notions, which we have ; derived from experience, or from information. ~ Thefe two powers, though diflinguifliable, are not elTentially different. If one can apprehend, or imagine, a thing that one has feen, one may alfo imagine two or moi-e fuch things imited fo as to form what has nothing hmilar to it in nature. If I, for example, have the idea of a dog's head and a man's body, it is eafy for me to imagine them united in one and the fame animal j to which my fancy can add wings, and horns, and cloven feet, and as many odd appendages as you pleafe. Thefe two faculties, therefore, of Simple Apprehenfion and Combination (as I fliall take the \ liberty to call them) are fo nearly allied, that there can be no harm I in referring both to the Imagination or Fancy. That the nature of this Combining Poiocr may be the better un- derftood, I muft remark, that philofophers have divided our ideas, and other objects of perception, into Simple and Complex. A Am- ple objeiSt is that which does not feem to coniill of parts that can be conceived fepa rate ; as heat, cold, hunger, thirft, (Sec. A com- plex objedl confifts of parts or qualities, which are feparable, or may at leaft be conceived as fuch by the mind. The fmallcfl grain ®f fand, the minutcft particle of matter that fenfe can perceive, is a complex Chap. I. OF IMAGINATION. ^j complex obje6l: ; becaufe it confifts of parts that may be fe- paiatcd, and is characterized by quahtics, which it is poITible to tliink of apart from each otlier, as figure, colour, folidity, weight, &c. Now all fimple ideas, tliat is, all our notions of fimple objefls, are derived from experience ; and cannot be defcribed in words, fo as to be underftood by thofe who never perceived them. A man born deaf has no conception of found j nor he who is born blind, of Ught or colour. And if we were to attempt to convey by defcription thofe fimple ideas, to which nature has not opened an inlet by fenfation, we fliould labour as ineffe6lually, as did that philofopher, who undertook to give a bfind man a notion of fcarlet. He told him, tliat it yielded a fenfation at once lively and agreeable, that it was an emblem of courage, and ornamental to princes and great men ; and, after fpecifying fome of its other qualities, alked him, whether he had not now fome idea of it. Yes, replied the other. Scarlet muft be, from your account, the liked thing in the world to the found of a trumpet. — Men born blind do, indeed, talk of things vifible, and often with propriety. But this muft be, either the efFecl of Memory, when they fay of colours and light what they have heard iaid by others : or it muft be witli fome figurative allufion ; as when they fpeak of ha.ving feen fuch a perfon, or fuch a book, which, in their mouth, means no more, tlian their having been in company with the perfon, or heard the book read. For of the pecuUar fcnfations conveyed by fi^-ht they muft remain as ignorant, as we are of the phenomena of a woild of fpirits. Their di'eams prefent them with notliing but difl'erent arrangements of thofe ideas which they have acquiied bv means of the other four fenfes. Even when they dream of light, which from their unhappy circumftances it is natural tliey fhould often do, as there is nothing they fo earneftly defirc, they fti!l L 2 fancv. 76 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. I. fancy, that it is audible, or tangible j they never can conceive what it really is. For the wildeft of our dreams are fo far conformable to nature, as to be wholly made up of thofe fimple or complex notions of things, wherewith experience has made us acquainted. Memory fupplies the materials : all that fancy does in fleep, or can do, is varioully to arrange them, fo as to form new combinations, whereof feme are lefs, and others more extravagant. Of the fimple or complex ideas derived from experience, the mind, when awake as well as in fleep, frames, as I obfeived. al- ready, or may frame, innumerable aflemblages different from thofe that really exift. He who has feen ivory and a mountain, may con- ceive the colour, fmoothnefs, and fubftance of the former, united with the ftiape and fize of the latter ; and fo have a notion of an ivory mountain. The monftrous pidure defcribed by Horace, in the beginning of the Art of Poetry^ with the head of a man, the neck of a horfe, feathers of different birds, limbs of different beafls, and the tail of a fifh, it is eafy for us to conceive, and, if we know a little of drawing, to make vifible in a pi6lure. In facl, nothing is more eafy than to form new combinations of this fort : the great, and the difficult, bulinefs of invention is, to make them agreeable and ufeful, confiftent and natural. ) This capacity of framing new afferablages is referred, as I faid before, to the Imagination, Memory prefents nothing to our 'view, but what we have aftually perceived; fo that a being en- dowed with Memory, but deflitute of fancy, whatever knowledge ihe might acquire, would be incapable of invention. For all inven- tion implies novelty ; and that things or ideas are put together, Iwhich were never fo put together before. And, that the powers of invention and remembrance are different ; fo as that a pcrfon may poflefs the one in a high, and tire other in a low degree, is almoft too obvious to require proof. 8 Shakefpeare Chap. I. OF IMAGINATION. yj^ Shakcfpeare and Aaron Ilill were poets, and men of genius. The latter was a traveller, and wrote the hiflory of his travels, and had enjoyed, bcfides, the advantage of a liberal education : the former had little learning, was never out of England, and pafled a great part of his life in needy circumftances. From this account one would think, that Hill muft have pofTefled a greater fund of ideas, than Shakcfpeare : and that he had more knowlege of books, of countries, and of other things which occur in reading, admits of no doubt. But Hill's inventive talent was not extraordinary ; we find little new in him j and we fay, without impropriety, that he had no great powers of Imagination. Whereas Shakcfpeare, with far lefs erudition, was in fentiments and images incomparably more abundant ; and has indeed difplayed a variety of invention, as well as a knowlege of nature, that is almoft without example, — We every day meet with perfons of good fenfe and clear apprehen- fion ', who can diftindly tell a flory, or give an account of a book they have read, or of bufmefs they have been engaged in ; but whofe converfation, though it befpeaks a good Memory, fhows no inventive talent. And others may be met with, v/ho are witty and humourous, and ftrike out in their difcourfe many new ideas, who yet have no great ftrength of Memory, and little of that clearnefs- of head, which is requifite to form a man of bufmefs. OF IMAGINATION. Chap, II. C H A P. II. Of the AfTocIation of Ideas, S E C T. I. Frinciples of AO'ociation. — Firji, Refemblauce. — Secondly , Con- trariety. — T'hirdly, Nearnefs of Situation. 'T^ H E human foul is eHentially aftive j and none of our faculties are more refllefs, than this of Imagination, which operates in fleep, as well as when we are awake. While we liflen to a difcourfe, or read a book, how often, in fpite of all our care, does the fancy wander, and prefent thoughts quite different from thofe we v/ould keep in view I That energy, which lays a reftraint upon the fancy, by fixing the mind on one particular objedl, or fet of objeSIs, is called Attention: and moft people know, that tire continued excrcife of it is accompanied with difficulty, and fbmething of intelle61:ual wearinefs. Whereas, when, without attending to any one particular idea, we give full fcope to our thoughts, and permit them to fliift, as Imagination or accident fhall determine, a flate of mind which is called a Reverie ; we are confcious of fomething like mental relaxation ; while one idea brings in another, which gives way to a third, and that in its turn is fucceeded by others ; the mind feeming all along to be palFive, and to exert as little authority over its thoughts, as the eye does over the perfons who pafs before it in the ftrect. The fucceflion of thefe wandering ideas is often regulated by Memory ; as when the particulars of a place we have feen, or of a converfation we 6 have Sea. r. OF IMAGINATION. 79 have witnefTcd, pafs in review before us. At otlier times, our thoughts have lefs connef^tion with reality, and follow each other m an order, in which, perliajis, they never appeared before. The fame thing is obfervable in thofe mifcellaneous converfatlons, that are confined to no one particular topick, but in which every perfon lays what occurs to him, according as it is fuggefted by what had been faid by others. Here, though a variety of fubjefts, and a multitude of diilimilar ideas, be introduced, yet we may for the mofl: part trace out the relations that unite them. And' this is fo well known, that, if any thing be faid which appears to bear no relation to what went before, the audience are apt to take notice of it, and expe61: to be informed of the tram of thinking, which could lead the fpeaker to an idea apparently fo incon- gruous. — I have fomewhere read or Iieaixl, that, in the time of thofe civil wars which occafioned the death of Charles the Firll, v/hcn fome of the King's adherents were difcourfing of the evils that threatened the royal party, one of them aflced, what was the value of a Roman denarius. This quefiion feemed to be very remote from the fubjecl -, and the company exprefied their fur- prife, that a converfation of fo great moment fliould be interrupted by lb unfeafonablc a query. The gentleman alked pardon j and faid, he was led to it by a train of thoughts that had jufl then, paffed through his mind : that tlie fate of their unfortunate fovereign feemed to him to refemble that of our Saviour wiieii betrayed into the hands of his enemies ; and that tliis had made him think of Judas the traitor, and of the price paid for his treachery, which was thirty pieces of filver, or, as he fuppofcd, thirty Roman denarii. When our thoughts follow one another in this manner, the ti'anfitions are often exceedingly quick ; fo that we fhall be, this moment, thinking of one thing, and, the next, of fomething totally 8a OF IMAGINATION. Chap. 11. totally different. And yet, perhaps, if we could recollecl all the intermediate ideas, we fliould find, that, though the fiift and the lafl he very difTimilar, thofe that come next one another are all related. Julius Cefar, for example, occurs to my mind. Upon him I may, if I pleafe, fix my attention for a while, without fuffering fancy to wander to any thing elfe. But, if it is under no reflraint, a great variety of ideas may immediately prefent them- felves. Cefar leads me to think of Gaul, perhaps, which he con- quered, and of Britain, which he invaded ; of the barbarous flate in which he found the inhabitants of this illand ; of favage life, in general, and the horrid practices that prevail in it, murder, rapine, human facrifices, and the eating of human flefh. How different, I exclaim, is this abominable banquet, from thofe of the Hippomolgians celebrated by Homer, who lived on milk, and led a life of fuch purity, that Jupiter took pleafure in beholding it i Hence there is an eafy tranfition to the golden age defcribed by the poets, and to man's flate of innocence before the fall. — I fet out with Julius, Cefar, the mofl acconipliflied perfonage of an- tiquity J the next moment I was among cannibals, the difgrace of human nature ; and, immediately after, the peace and the plea- fures of paradife were before me. Ideas more diflimilar can hardly be imagined ; and yet, the contiguous links in this chain are fo connected, that one may naturally lead to another. And, if my reverie were to continue, ten thoufand ideas might arife, equally diverfified, and yet mutually related. I do not fay, that, of any number of fuccefTive ideas, there is always a mutual affinity between thofe which are next to each other. Fancy ofteji is capricious, and prefents combinations, that are unaccountably extravagant. And we may, no doubt, exchange any one thought for almoft any other; even as, by a fudden turn, we may dircd our eyes this inflant to the fouth, and the next to the Sea. I, OF IMAGINATION. 8i the north. But the more natural procedure, and that which requires the leaft effort, is, in the latter cafe, to look at things as they lie in order and contiguous, and, m the former, to pafs from one thouglit to others that bear a relation to it. Since, then, there is, for the mofi part, a connection between thofe ideas that pafs through the mindj it comes to be a matter worthy of curiofity, to inquire into the nature of this connexion ; and fee, whether we can trace out any principles, whereby the fucceflion, or Aflbciation, of our ideas may appear to be regulated. Thefe principles are, no doubt, many and various : nor will I undertake, as fome have done, to enumerate them all. Nor am I anxious, as fome have been, to reduce them to two or three general ones. The more examples of this Affociatiou that wc attend to, the greater number of affbciating principles we fhall probably difcover. But I confine myfelf to a few particulars. I. One event or ftory leads us to think of another that is like it. We are often put in mind of an abfent friend, by feeing a ftranger who 7-efembles him. Refemblance, then, is one of thofe afTociating principles, that lead our thoughts from one objeft to another. In other words. Ideas that zxtfimilar^ or fuppofed to be fuch, are attractive of each otiier in our minds. Hence the origin of metaphor, fimilitude, allegory, and thofe other figures of rhetorick, that are founded in likencfs ; multitudes of which occur, not only in poetry, and all good writing, but aifo in common difcourfe. We call a cunning perfon, afox; and one who breeds diffention, a firebrand; a dull man, a!i af^ and an indecent, unmannerly fellow, a brute. The fame trope' is u fed, in the way of commendation, when we call an innocent babe, a lamb ; a virtuous and beautiful perfon, an angel : or merely in order to convey a lively idea j as when, of a lean man it is faid, that he is nothing but Ikin and bone j or of a tall man, that he M is 82 OF IMAGINATION. Chap.IL is a fteeple. Thefe are metaphors. And, in applying them, our fancy is led, from the perfon or thing we fpeak of, to the other perfon or thing whofe name we make ufe of; on account of a fup- pofed refemblance between them. To talk metaphorically, and illuftrate our thoughts in the way of allegoiy and iimilitude, is more common than one would ima- gine, not only with men of learning, but even with children and favages : and we are moft apt to do fo, when we give vent to any ftrong emotion. The following fentence is natural enough, and not too refined for common dialogue ; and yet, the firft claufe is a metaphor, the fecond a fmiilitude, and the third an allegory. ** I was thunderftruck at the news ; and flood for a time motion- " lefs, like a ftatue ; but endeavoured to compofe myfelf, by re- " fledting, that in the voyage of life calms and florms do generally •* fucceed each other." Unlettered people, and nations whofe language is in a rude flate, have more frequent recouife to thefe figures, than perfons of a copious elocution. The diale6l of the vulgar abounds in proverbs, moft of which, as they apply themj are allegories or limilies. And the harangues of Indian chiefs, whereof fpecimens appear from time to time in the newfpapers, are full of metaphor from beginning to end. This may fliow, how natural it is for the human mind, to affociate lim^ilar ideas; or, to pafs, from one idea or objeft, to another that is like it. When the foul is occupied by any powerful paffion, the thoughts that arife in it are generally fimilar to that paffion, and tend to en- courage it. Is a man joyful ? his thoughts do all partake of the gaiety of his heart ; and melancholy ideas difappear fo totally, that he would find it no eafy matter to recal them. Is he fad ? he then ruminates upon pain and difappointment, and the uncertainty of human things ; upon death, and the grave, and a thoufand other gloomy objeds. Anger, ia like manner, gives the mind a ten- dency Seft. I. OF I xM A G I N A T I O N. ^3 dency to afTociate the congenial ideas of injury, reproach, and re- taliation : as piety and benevolence call up the moft delightful images of felicity and virtue, the rewards of the good, and the reforma- tion of the wicked, fociety flourilhing, and the whole univerfe united in harmony and love. — So that, if we know a perfon's chara(5ler, or the paflions that habitually prevail in him, we may guefs, with no little adlirance, in regard to the thoughts that would arife in his mind on any given occafion, that they would bear a refemblance to his predominant temper. And thus it is, that poets are enabled to preferve the decorum of characters ; and to aflign to every perfon, whom they may introduce as an agent in their fable, thofe fentiments, and that condufl, which we fliould expeiSl from fuch a perfon, if he were to make his appearance in real life. — If, then, we would keep uneafy thoughts at a diflance, we muft reprefs every difagreeable paflion, as anger, revenge, envy, fufpicion, and dif- content ; and cherifli piety, humanity, forgivenefs, patience, and a lowly mind. For the latter bring along with them fweet and foothing ideas ; as painful thoughts and mifery are the infeparable companions of the former. 2. Another aflbciating principle is Contrariety, When we feel hunger or cold, we are more apt to think of food, or of heat, than of any thing elfe. The influence of this law is obfervable even in deep. Our dreams, when we are hungry or thirfly, are all made up of eating or drinking ; or rather, of attempts to eat or drink : for, as the appetite remains unallayed, the idea of complete gra- tification does not occur ; but we fancy, that the drink is impure, or the food beyond our reach, or that fomething elfe continually interpofes to difappoint us. In furveying a great pile of ruins, is it not natural to fay, How changed is this place from what it once muft have been ! " how *• doth the city fit folitary, that was full of people {"—-and, while M z our 84 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II, our eyes dwell on the fcene of defolation that is now before them, to revolve m our mindthofe ideas of feflivity, fplendour, and bufy life, which we conceive to have been formerly reaUzed on the fame fpot ? We are told by Herodotus, that, when Xerxes, from a hill near the Hellefpont, was taking a view of his vaft army and navy, and beheld the fea covered with his Ihips, and the fliores and plains of Abydos full of men, he wept to think that thofe mul- titudes would all be dead within a hundred years *. The humanity of the thought is pleafmg ; and it pleafes alfo on account of the contraft. From the acclamations that now rang in his ears, aiid the atlivity difplayed in thofe unnumbered varieties of motion that were before his eyes, the mind of the Perfian king was led, by a natural tranfition, to the oppofite ideas of eternal reft and filence. If contraft were not a natural bond of union among ideas, we fhould not be fo much pleafcd with it in works of fancy. But in fa6t w^£ find, that poets and other artifts, whofe aim is to give pleafiTre, are all ftudious of it. Homer frequently interrupts the defcription of a battle, with a fimilitude taken from ftill life or from rural affairs : and in this he has been imitated by fucceeding poets j who have alfo, after his example, in the contrivance of cli^radlers, oppofed the violent to the gentle, the cunning to the generous, and the proud to the humble; and, in the arrangement of their fable, diverfified events by a like artifice; introducing a negotiation after a battle, a night-adventure after a day of bufmefs, a fcftival after a ftorm, a fcene of joy after diftrefs, and a glimpfe of domeftick tranquillity in the midft of tumult. On all thefe occa- fions we are pleafed with the variety ; and we are alfo pleafed with the oppofition, becaufe it makes the variety more obfervable and furprifing, and fliits that propenfity of the human mind, of * Herodot. lib. vll. Polymnia. 8 afTociating Sea. I. OF IMAGINATION. 85 afTociatlng contraries, or pafling from one extreme to another. Contrafted charadters have this further advantage in poetry, that by counteratling, they mutually exercife, one another, and occafion a full difplay of the peculiarities of each. But the propenfity I fpeak of is not at all times equally ftrong. When one is happy, one is unwilling to think of mifery. And there- fore, it would feem, that the influence of Contrariety, as an alToci- ating principle, is moft powerful, when the mind is aftuated by fome uncafy emotion. While we fuffer no inconvenience, the foul is tranquil, and the fancy is not apt to wander beyond the prefent fcene. But folicitude and pain ftimulate thought, and dired our view to thofe things that fcem to promife an adequate relief. We think of coolnefs when panting under the heat of a fummer fun, O quis me gelidis in valUbus Ha^mi Siftat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra ! But in extreme heat we Ihould probably think of extreme cold. When King John is tortured with the burning heat of a mortal poifon, Shakfpeare does not make him think of coolnefs, for that was not the proper contrail to his feelings, but puts in hi&> mouth the following exclamation. Poifon'd, ill fare ! dead, and forfook, cafl off. And none of you will bid the winter come. To thruft his icy fingers in my maw j Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their courfe Through my burn'd bofom ; nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips, And comfort me with cold. Nothing can be more natural than the direction here given to the imagination of the fufferer : and in the poetical, or pindarick,: boldnefs of the ftyle, there is no more extravagance, than might be ^ OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. be expected from a perfon betrayed, and poifoned, frantick with pain, and in the agonies of death. 3. When the idea occurs of any place with which we are ac- quainted, we are apt to pafs, by an eafy and quick tranfition, to ihofe of tjie adjoining places, of the perfons who live there, and of the events that are known to have happened in that neighbour- hood. Here the aflbciating principle is neither Refemblance, nor Contrariety, but Contiguity, Vicinity y or nearnefs of fituation*. If there be not only Contiguity, but order, or fyftematick arrange- ment, the AiTociation will be peculiarly flrong. After feeing all the human bones feparated, and lying fide by fide, the idea of one * Contiguity and Vicinity are not ftridly fynonymous ; the former being the highefl: degree of the latter : but it is not neceffary to be more explicit.— Perhaps, Vicinity in time ought alfo to have been mentioned as an aflbciating circumftance : as our minds are fometimes led from one event to another that fell out about the fame time. Yet I think this does not commonly and naturally liappen, unlefs where the fuccefllve ideas are connefled by fome other Principle of AfTociation. If, after hearing an event and the date of it, one were to fubjoin, " That puts me in mind of fomething which " happened at the fame time," the company, if they were not mere chronologers, would be rather difappointed, to find, that what was faid by the laft fpeaker was not iin any refpefl, but that of contemporarinefs, related to what had been faid by the other. Take an example. Air. A. " So, Sir, as I was faying, I fell from iny horfe in the " middle of the river ; and the weather was very cold ; it being the thirtieth of *' November." Mr. B, " Sir, I have reafon to remember the thirtieth of that " month ; for that was the date of my little daughter Jane's inoculation for the fmall " pox." — Would not fuch a connexion be fomewhat ludicrous, from the want of relation between the two events ? Yet in time they might be clofely related, to a day, or even to an hour. But \i Air. B. were to fpeak thus : " Sir, it is remarkable that, on the very " day you mention, my little daughter narrowly efcaped drowning ;" or, " I was in as " great danger from fire, as you were from water ;" — the Aflbciation would be allowed to be natural, from the refemblance of the one event, or from the contrariety of the other. — In matters of this kind, dales are not apt to take hold of the imagination, becaufe they are feldom important. Places are vifible things : and the images they leave in the memory (if I may be allowed the expreflionj are livelier and mora accurately defined. will Sea. L OF IMAGINATION. S7 will not fo readily introduce that of another, as if we had examined the entire fkeleton. To an architect the fragment of a column con- veys a notion of the whole pillar ; and the outUne of the fliadow of a face which we know, is found to give a lively idea of all the features. The fight of a place in wliich we have been happy or unhappy, renews the thoughts and the feelings that we formerly experienced there. With what rapture, after long abfcnce, do we revifit the haunts of our childhood, and early youth ! A thoufand ideas, which had been for many years forgotten, now crowd upon the Imagina- tion, and revive within us the gay pafHons of that romantick period. The fame efFe6t is produced, though perhaps in a fainter degree, when in a foreign land we talk of, or recolleft, the place of our nativity. And from thefe, and other Affociations of a like nature, arifes in part that moft important principle, the love of our country; whereof the chief obje6ls are, our friends, and fellow- citizens, and the government that has fo long protefled us and our fathers -, but in which is alfo comprehended a fondnefs for the very fields aiul mountains, the vales, the rocks, and the rivers,, which formed the fcenery of our firft amufements and adventures. Moft perfons feel fomething of this fondnefs : and thofe who do not, may yet admit the reaHty of it, when they are told, that the natives of certain countries, when abroad in foreign parts, do fometimes fall fick, and even die, of a defire to revifit their native land. The Swifs were formerly fo liable to this malady, that they diftinguillied it by a particular name. The Scots', too, have fuffered from it. And in general it has been thought, tliat the natives of a mountainous region are more fubje6l to this infirmity, than thofe who have been born and bred in level countries. For precipices, rocks, and torrents, are durable things ; and, being more ftriking to the fancy than any natural appearances in the plains, take fafter hold of the memory 3 and may therefore more frequently recur to 6. the SB OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. the abfent native, accompanied with an idea of the pleafures formerly enjoyed in thofe places, and with regret that he is now removed to fo great a diilance from them. To which we may add, that the daily contemplation of the grand phenomena of nature, in a mountainous country, elevates, and continually exercifes, the Imagination of the folitary inhabitant ; one effect of which is, to give thofe fenfibilities to the nervous fyftem, which render the mind in a peculiar degree fufceptible of wild thoughts, and warm emotions. * On entering a place confecrated to religion, ferious minds are generally confcious of devout impreflions ; the furrounding fcene recalling fome of thofe habits of thinking, which have been formed ■in this or in fimilar places. And, for the fame reafon, playhoufes and ball-rooms, and other places of publick diverfion, have a ten- dency to fuggeft thoughts of a different nature. Such is the effedl of Cuflom, and of Contiguity, confidered as Principles of AlTociation. * See Eflay. on Poetry and Mufick. Part i. chap. 6. feflion 3. Sea. II. OF I M A G I N A T I O N, 89 according as the angle, fubtended by his image in the retina of our eye, is greater or lefs. Decreafe of apparent magnitude, faintnefs of colour, indiftinftnefs of outline, and the number of intermediate objedls, help us to judge both of the magnitude, and of the diftance of things : and of two bodies equally diftant, or fuppofed to be equally diftant, that which has the greateft vifible magnitude is conceived to have tiie greateft tangible magnitude. But, without touch, we fnould not know diftance, nor, confequently, diftinguilh the tangible magnitude from the vifible; in y;hich cafe it is evident, that our knowledge of magnitude v,/ould be very indefinite. When by any accident we think an objedt nearer than it really is, its vifible appear- ance will feem fmaller than it really is : and if we think its diftance greater than the reality, its vifible magnitude will appear larger. To a man bewildered in miil objeils feem larger than the life, becaufe their faint appearance conveys the idea of great dif- tance : Sea, III. OF IMAGINATION. loi produces the intended efFe6l; jufl: as, when we choofe to exprefs ouiTelves by fpeech or writing, the idea no fooner appears in the mind, than our fingers dire6t the pen in tracing out the cuftomary charafters, and our organs of fpeech afrume that configuration which tance : and to fpeflators in the theatre the player on the ftage appears taller than he really is, when the fccnery, or any other contrivance, makes him look as if he were more remote than he really is. On the fame account, the fun and moon feem larger in the horifon, than in the meridian ; for in the former fituation they appear at the greateft diftance ; either becaufe the liorifon, for a reafon already given, feems more remote than the zenith, or becaufe the atmofphere, being more full of vapour tov/ard'a the horifon, makes the lieavenly bodies appear fainter, and confequently more diftant. A man on the top of a fteeple feems fmaller to thofe below, than the fame man would feem to the fame perfons, and at the fame diftance, on level ground ; which depends on the fame principle. For on level ground we can judge pretty accurately of diftance, becaufe we have frequent occafion to eftimate diftance on level ground ; but of the diftance of things above us we cannot judge fo accurately ; firft:, becaufe we are lefs accultomed to do it ; and fccondly, becaufe, if the objeit be very high like a fteeple, there are no contiguous things with which we may compare it fo as to afcertain its magnitude, and the diftance of its higher parts. And befider., as the parts near the top, on account of their diftance, appear lefs than they really are, we think, the whole fteeple lefs and ftiorter than it really is, and confequently imagine, that the top is not fo far from us, as it is in reality. And hence, when we go up by ladders, or by ftairs, we are furprized to find the journey longer than we expected. Arid here, it is proper to diftinguiftt the real vifible magnitude of things from their apparent vifible magnitude. Of the fame objefl, (een at the fame diftance, the real vi- fible magnitude is always the fame; whence the laws of perfpeelive, as far as they relate to magnitude, may be afcertained geometrically. But the apparent vifible magnitude of diftant objefts may be confiderably afFeded by the imagination of the fpe&ntor, or rather by his opinion of their diftance. For this opinion, and the vifible fenfation, operating upon his mind at the fame tiine, do in fome meafure inteifere vjhh and con- found each other. And he tliinks, that a certain vifible objedt appears to be of a cer- tain dimenfion, becaufe his idea of its diftance determines him to believe, that it is of that dimenfion. 4. Figure is either plane or folid. Plane figure, or limited fuperficies, cannot be di- ftindtly perceived without touch ; as was proved already. Of every folid figure fome parts are inore diilant from us than others : but diftance is perceived originaL'y by touch : therefore, fo muft folid figure. A folid 102 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. 11. which fits them for uttering the cuftomary founds. On thefe, and the Uke occafions, the power of habit, early begun and long con- tinued, is wonderfully great. To the young mufician how difficult is it, and to the expert performer how eafy, to exprefs on his in- ftrument, or with his voice, the meaning of the mufical charatSlers that are laid before him ! All varieties of articulate found are quickly acquired by children, even in cafes, in which a very nice adjuftment of the articulating organs may be neceflary : but when A folld body prefents to our eye nothing but a certain difpofition of colours and J'ght. We think we fee the prominency, or the cavity, when in faiSl we fee only the light, or the ihade, occafioned by it. This light and fliade, however, we learn by experience to confider as the fign of a certain folid figure. And if a painter, by means of colour, can exactly imitate this light and fhade, his work will appear to the eye to have all the prominencies and cavities of the folid body, though it be delineated on a plain and fmooth furface. It is difficult for ordinary eyes to perceive, and attend to, the exa£t vifible appearance of a folid body : our attention being engaged, lefs by the vifible appearance, or fign, than by the folid figure, or thing fignified. And this habit, of attending more to the latter than to the former, arifes from our concern for our own welfare ; which may be affedled by the nearnefs or folidity of bodies, but not by their vifible appearance. Nor is it flrange, that, in this cafe, we iliould attend more to the thing fignified, than to the fign. For in the ufe of language, as obferved above, the fame thing happens. In reading a book, or hearing a dif- courfe, we attend lefs to the Qiape of the letters, or to the found of the words, than to the ideas fignified by tliofe words or letters ". the objefls of fight and of hearing are overlooked, and we mind only, or chiefly, the objedls of the underftanding. It appears then, that Diftance, Extenfion, Magnitude, and Figure, are originally perceived, not by fight, but by touch : and that we come to judge of them by fight, jvhen we have learned from long experience, that certain vifible appearances do always accompany, and fignify, certain diftances, extenfions, magnitudes, and figures. But we get this knowledge fo early" in life (for we muft begin to acquire it, as foon 3S we begin to fee, and to move) that we lofe all memory of its commencement and progrefs. Yet fome of us may remember the time, when we thought that the ;fky, then confidcrcd as a tranfparent and folid concave, refted on the tops of the moun- tains that bounded our profpe£l, and that it was impolfible to go beyond them: ? proof, that our powers of efiimating diliance by fight were then confined within a very narrow circle. a growH Sea. III. OF IMAGINATION. T03. a grown man attempts to fpeak a foi-eign language for the firft time, he finds the difficulty ahiioft infiirmountabie. The figures of fhort hand, and thofe charaoteis, ufed in China- and elfewlicre, wiiich fignify not fimplc founds, but entiie words, . do, Hke our words and letters, convey ideas to the people wlio have . acquired the ^<:;^// of annexing to them a certain meaning. But when men exprefs themfclvcs emblematically, Siinilkudcis the alfo- ciating principle that leads to the interpretation. For an emblem isran allegory addrelled to the eye ; and every allegory is founded in likeners4 Thus the pifture, which reprefents two boys, the one in the a£l of trimming a candle, and the other in that of atiempt- ing to blow out the fun with a pair of bellows, is an emblem, which,, on account of the fimilitude of. the two caies, conveys an idea of the folly of thofe men, who, trufting to the weak, tranfient:, and artificial light of their own prejudices, reje6l, and^eyen endea- vour to extinguifli, the ftrong, fleady, and eternal radiance of the gofpel. In thcfe, and the like contrivances, there is a ftudied ob- fcurity J they being, like riddles, intended to amufe the fancy by exercifing it -, which they would not do, if their fignification were as well afccrtained, as that of words and letters. And therefore all minds are not equally capable of expounding them. One, who. is not converfant in figurative language; or w^ho happens to be. unacquainted with that part of nature, of hiftory, or of fable, to which the emblem alludes, may labour in vain to find out its figni- fication. On AflTociations formed by accident, and eftabliihed by cuJJom^ many of the pains and pleafures of life depend. That which in itfelf would.be. indifferent .becomes agreeable, or the contrary, ac- cording to the nature of the affedions, or ideas, to which it may have given rife on a former occafion. An infignificant tune, if we have once heard it in an agreeable place, or fung by an agree- 4 able 104 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. able perfon, or when we were happy, will give us pleafure when, heard agahi, by recalling thofe ideas of delight that accompanied the firft performance *. A prefent, however trifling, preferved as the memorial of a friend, derives ineftimable value from its power of enlivening our idea of the giver, and renewing thofe kind emo- tions, whereof that perfon is the object. One would think, that the fports and adventures of children could not be interefting to men : yet with what fatisfaflion do we talk over fuch things with an old fchoolfellow ! They bring again to view the fcenery of our early days, which is an idea particularly foothing to the fancy; and revive within us a variety of pleafuig paffions, wherewith they have long been afTociated. Things in themfelves difagreeable may by afTociation become pleafing. Des Cartes fomewhere mentions, that he had all his life a pa tiality for perfons who fquinted ; and that, in his endeavours to trace out the caufe of a tafte fo Angular, he at laft recolle6led, that when a boy he had been fond of a girl who had that blemifli. Friends and lovers frequently contraft a liking to thofe peculiari- ties of each other, that appear rather ungainly to the reft of the world : which, by the by, is a lucky circumftance : for if all men had a tafte for the fame qualities in their own fpecies, a few might be gratified, but the majority would be difappointed. We have heard even of proud and abfolute princes, who were the flaves of women that had neither virtue nor beauty to recommend them. Not that a bad heart, or uncomely figure, can ever of itfelf infpire love J but becaufe, when united with other qualities, it may, in confequence of aflbciations founded in habit, have acquired the power of introducing pleafurable ideas into the mind of the be- fotted admirer. * See an Eflay on Poetry and Mufick, as they affea the mind. Part i. Chap. 6. 8 Further : Sea.m. OF IMAGINATION. 105 Fuither: What in itdlf would be agreeable, may, if it has at any time been accompanied with difagrceable ideas, awaken cmo^ tions of a painful kind. A memorial of a dear friend, which during his life was fo delightful, will excite the moll lively furrow when he is dead, and oblige us perhaps, for our own eafe, to keep it concealed in fome repofitory, with a refolution to fee it no more. There are forts of food, neither unpleafant nor unwholefome, that fome people cannot eat ; and, as Locke obferres, there are vefTels both cleanly and convenient, out of which one would not choofe to drink ; on account of fome difgufting aflbciation. A platter, for example, in which we had feen a fow guzzling, or food refembling a medicine that had lately turned our ftomach, would create ab- horrence ; efpecially if our nerves were delicate ; whatever reafon we might have to believe, that the former was now clean, and the latter palatable. Locke mentions a gentleman, who had bten cured of a dangerous difeafe by a very ofFenfive operation in furgcry. . He entertained the higheft regard for the operator, and the warmeft gratitude for his fervices -, but could never after endure the fight of him. Would it be expedient, or decent, to ling a pfalm to the tune of a common ballad, or a common ballad to the tune of a pfalm? And yet, perhaps, in itfelf, and previoufly to the Influence of habit, the ballad-tune might have fuited the pfalm, or the pfalm-tune the ballad. But when we have once and again heard certain notes accompanied with certain words, the words, or the notes, heard feparate, will mutually fuggeft each other. So that, if fuch a tranf- pofition were to be made, it would raife in every perfon of fen- fibility a mixture of jarring ideas, which, by blending things profane with things holy, and ferioulhefs with laughter, would debafe the imagination, and impair that llrength of mind, by . which we retain the command of our own thoughts. For how P is io6 OF IMAGINATION. Cliap. II. is it poffible, that our devotion fliould be promoted to-day, by the fame things, which yefterday, in the hour of relaxation, led us to think of drinking and merriment, and the amours of Strephon and Chloe ! — Thofe fe<5laries, therefore, (and fuch are faid to be among us) who either adapt their pfahns to the mea- fures, or fmg them with the mufick, of common fongs, muft be very ignorant of human nature, or very inattentive to the right performance of this part of worfliip. Nothing conneded with levity, or with trivial pafTions, fliould ever be feen or heard in a place appropriated to the folemnities of religion : and, in a church, even on a week day, I fliould think it not lefs unfeemly to play a hornpipe on the organ, than to dance one in the area. No perfon is lefs an enemy, than I am, to wit and humour, to fmging and dancing. I prefume, that the Deity would not have qualified us for thefe amufements, or made them profitable to health, and to virtue, if he had not meant that we fhould enjoy them. But they never can be lawful, when they are indecent. And indecent they muft be, when unfuitable to times and places; or when they have a tendency to pervert the mind, by irrational or impure affociations. Upon the fame principle, I muft condemn all thofe allufions to the doclrine and phrafeology of Scripture, that are intended to raife laughter. Such may, no doubt, have been fometimes made, both in writing and in converfation, without any bad meaning. But it is a dangerous, aiid may be a fatal, amufement. It gradu- ally lefTens our reverence for holy things : and, if we have ever been accuftomed to join together, though with no evil purpofe, ludicrous ideas and religious truths, it will be lingular indeed, if, one time or other, on fomc folemn occafion, our fancy does not prefent us with ideas, which, though formerly ami.fi.ig, may now be the obje6ls of horror, and fuch as we would give the Sea. III. OF IMAGINATION. 107 the world to have been able to keep at a diftance. — It is fliock-j ing to confidcr, how frequently thcfe profane witticifms occur in fome of the moft popular writers of the Lift age, particu- larly Dryden, Congreve, and Swift ; Pope himfelf is not free from them. Never retail fuch things in converfation ; revolve them not in your mind; pafs them over (lightly when they come in your wayj and forget them as foon as poiTiblc. Such is the weaknefs of our nature, that they may in an unguarded moment make us laugh ; but it would have been better for u», if they had provoked our indignation. To proceed. We are told, that, in the age of Richard the fecond, about four hundred years ago, the peaks or tops of the flioes, worn by people of fafluon, were of fo enormous a length, that, in order to bear them up, it was neceflary to tie them to the knee. And we learn from Cowley, that in his days ladies of quality wore gowns as long agahi as their body ; fo that they could not ftir to the next room, without a page or two to carry their train. What ridiculous dlfproportion ! we exclaim: v/hat intolerable inconvenience ! Is it poffible, that the taflc of our forefathers could be fo perverted, as to endure fuch a fafliion ! But let us not be raili in condemning our forefathers, left wc fliould unwarily pafs fentence upon ourfelves. Have we never jfeen, in our time, forms of diefs equally inconvenient, and yet equally fafhionable ? Does a flioe of four and twenty inches in length disfigure or encumber the one extremity of the human body more, than a head-drefs two feet high does the other ? Or is it a greater hindrance to the amufements, or more hurtful to the health, of a fine lady, to drag after her two dozen fuper- fluous yards of filk, than to fit two hours in a morning under the difcipline of the curling iron, or totter upon a fliarp- pointed flioe-hcel, which every moment threatens her ancle with dilloca- P 2 tion? jo8 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. XL tion ? In fa6^, as the world goes, former and latter ages, and the male and the female fex, may mutually fay, in regard to abfurdity of drefs, what the poet fays, when fpeaking of that wildnefs of invention which prevails among poets and painters, hanc veniam damns, petimufque viciflim. This privilege we grant, and afk it in return. Now, how are we to account for the prevalency of fafliions fo uncouth, and fo inconvenient ? It is to be accounted for, in part, from the power of Cujiom, as an aflbciating principle. The fafhion may be improper, and, when firfl brought in, ridi- culous : but the mere habit of feeing it will gradually overcome our averfion : and, when we have long feen it worn by per- fons of rank, beauty, virtue, or wifdom, and on occafions of the greatefl: feftivity or folemnity, it acquires in our fancy a connexion with many pleafmg ideas : and whatever is fo con- nected mull itfelf be pleafmg. An African negro has from his birth lived among people of a black colour, with flat nofes, thick lips, and woolly hair. His father, and mother, and all his relations, his friend, his miftrefs, and his fovereign, have all the fame cafl of features and com- plexion. He has heard, perhaps, of Europeans, or he miy have fcen fome of them; of whom he knows little more, than that their colour is white, that they come from a far country, and are remarkable for many flrange cuftoms ; that they enflave and opprefs black men, becaufe they are black, and buy and (cU them, ■ like cattle, in a market ; force them away from their country and friends to remote regions from which they never return ; fcourge them for the flightcfl faults, and even juit them to death on frivolous pretences. With what a multitude of difgufiing ideas, in the mind of this negro, muft the European complexion Sea. III. OF IMAGINATION. 109 complexion be aflbciated j and, with how many agreeable ones, his own ! Is it not, then, as natural for him, to have that pre- diledHiion for African features, which we have for thofe of Europe, — as long, at leafl:, as he remains in his own country ? For, if he were to hve among us, and to be treated with that humanity, which, as a man, and as a ftranger, he has a riglit to demand, and will certainly re«eive, from every Chriftian, his diflike to our lineaments and colour would gradually abate, becaufe they would foon come to be affociated with many pleafmg images. Cuflom has, indeed, a very powerful influence, in determining our notions of beauty. The natives of a certain province among the Alps are diftinguilhed by an extraordinary fvvelling under the chin ; owing, it is faid, to the fnow- water which they are obliged to drink a great part of the year ; and there, we are told, that none are accounted handfome, but they whofe chins hang down upon the breafl. J 10 O F I M A G I N A T I O N» Chap. II. S E C T. IV. Origin of our Ideas of Beauty, — in colour, — in figure, — in ATTITUDE, — in MOTION, — partly accounted for, from the Infuence of Cujiom, as an a/fociating Principle. — Beauty of CouU" tena7Kc — Standard of Beauty. T Said, that, in determining our notions of Beauty, Cuftom has a very powerful influence. It might have been faid, more explicitly, that " from aflbciations founded in habit, many, or " perhaps mofl, of thofa pleafing emotions are derived, which ac- " company the perception of what in things vifible is called Beauty : "' thofe COLOURS, FIGURES, GESTURES, and MOTIONS, being ^' for the mofl part accounted beautiful, which convey to the " mind pleafurable ideas; and thofe ugly, or not beautiful, which " impart fuggellions of an oppofite or different nature." This Jeferves a particular inquiry. First, as to Colours : It is true, that fome give pleafure, becaufe they affedl the mind with a lively fenfation. Gold, and fdver, and flowers, and gaudy feathers, are admired by children and favages, on account of their brilliancy. The moon is to mofl infants a captivating objedl : I have feen a boy of fifteen months not a little offended, becaufe he could not have it for a plaything. Bright colours naturally draw attention. To look at burning coals is hurtful to fight : yet few, even of thofe who know this, can keep from flaring on the fire. — It is alfo true, that fame colours are accounted beautiful, becaufe they cheridi the organ of fight, as Green j or becaufe they have that character which we term delicacy, and yield a fenfation at once lively and gentle, as pale red, and 4 lis'it Scd. IV. OF IMAGINATION. iii light blue ; or becaufe tliey are fuppofed to be emblematical of moral qualities, as (c'nrlet, blue, and white, which v/e fometimcs confider as tlie fymbois of valour, con/lancy, and innocence. — It is further admitted, that colours, which look as if they were ftaincd or fullied, or which are fo mixed, or fo indefinite, that we fcarcc know what name to give them, are not generally admiied; on account, perhaps, of the dulnels or ambiguity of tin- fe-nfation wherewith they affcdf us. Thofe gradations, however, and fli.ides of colour, that appear in flowers, in the plumage of the peacock and other birds, in the rainbow, in the evening and morning fky, and in many natural objedVs, are wonderfully beautiful ; when they fo melt away into one another, that, though we difcern the change, we cannot mark the boundary. But in thefe cafes, it is not fo much the mere delicacy or fplendor of the colours that ch irms the eye, as that inimitable art (if I may fo exprefs myfelf) with which they are blended, and which infjures every beholder with pleafmg admiration, as far furpaffing the highefl: efforts of human dexterity. Outward circumftanccs, too, muft have fome effect. The calm- nefs of an evening, and the freflmefs of a morning flcy, the magnificent concave of heaven, the fragrance of the flowers, and the glorious arch of the rainbow, make us contemplate their colours with particular delight. For where beauty of colour is united with, elegance, or dignity of form, or with any other agreeable circum- ftance, thefe qualities mutually adorn each other : and we love the beauty more, on account of the greatnefs or goodnefs j and admire the greatnefs and approve the goodnefs more, on account of the beauty. Virtue itfelf, fays Virgil, appears to advantage in a beau- tiful, perfon *. * Grntior et pulchro veniens in corpore virtus. JEn. v, ^^-.i. In 112 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. In hS:, the beauty of colours depends fo much on the ideas with which they may happen to have been affociated by cuftom, that tlie fame colour fliall be beautiful in one objett, and in another ,,-ugly, for no other reafon, but becaufe in the one it brings along with It fome pleafing, and in the other fome painful, recoUeftion. Greennefs in the fields is beautiful j becaufe it conveys to the beholder many fweet ideas of fragrance, and plenty, and happy fealbns, as well as becaufe it refrefhes the organ of fight: but in the human countenance the fame colour would fti ike with horror, by fuggefling a great variety of difagreeable thoughts. The liquid vermilion or the lips, and the " purple light of love" that illumi- nates the cheek of youth, we admire as the figns of health, in- nocence, vivacity, and warm affection ; but if the fame ideas had fceen fuggefted by white cheeks and white lips, we fhould certainly have given the preference to thefe. The glow of a blufli is en- chanting ; as it betokens modefty and gentlenefs : but the fame colour, if known to be the effect of violent paffion, would for a time diveft the finefl face in the world of more than half its charms. The rainbow, if believed to be a fure prefage of plague or hurricane, would be a tremendous phenomenon ; and an image, like that which occurs to the frantick Lear, To have a thoufand with red burning fpits Come hifling in upon them, would be equally brilliant and horrible. Female cheeks, flaming with artificial red, cannot fure have any intrinfick grace j and are far from recommending themfelves by concomitant ideas of delicacy, purity, or fweetnefs : yet in the eye of a French petk maitre they are delightful and divine ; becaufe to him they fuggeft the moll tranfporting idea he can conceive, that of being in the fafliion. — To the fame caufe may be imputed g the Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 113 the continuance of this, and the like practices in favago hfc. I fny the continuance ; for I fujipofc, that among barbarians ihcy took their rife from fomc remote views to publick good, and might have been at flril intended, partly to defend the (kin from infefts, and partly to render the human vifage terrible to an enemy. And that the fame cut and colour of face, v/hich had been found ufefid in keeping flies and foes at a diftance, flrould be thought honourable, and become failiionable, will not appear flrange to thofe, who know the power of habit in forming aflbciations. The Romans, when they had attained the age of manhood, were much employed in the exercifes of the field. Their fummer was very hot, and, unlefs when in arms, they fcldom wore any cover- ing on the head. Hence we may imagine, that at Rome the com- plexion of the one fex would differ exceedingly from that of the other; as the women were fubje6l to a flri6t economy, and did not often appear in publick. Accordingly, Cicero declares, that maf- culine grace or dignity confifls in that fort of complexion whicii betokens habitual exercifej and which in that climate we may fuppofe to have been a dark brown approaching to the mulatto colour. A fairer hue would no doubt have been offenfivc to that manly people ; as intimating effeminacy, and idlenefs. Yet, in regard to beauty of complexion in women, the Roman notions did not differ from ours. This might be proved from many paf- fages in the antient authors, particularly from Virgil's chaiming picture of the blulhing Lavinia -, whom he conipares to pure ivory tinged with purple, and to white lillies glowing with a ruddy light refle6ted from rofes *. — Where cuftoms are uniform, men will differ but little in their fentiments concerning beauty ; becaufe the fame appearances of the human body will fuggefl nearly the fame ideas. * Cicero dc ofF. lib. i. § 36. Virg. .^ncid. xii. 67. Q^ SecO.N'DLVj *ii4 <^F IMAGINATION. Chap. II, Secondly; Perfeclion and Skill are always agreeable; and whatever fuggefts them to the mind muft be fo too; and, if vifible, is entitled to be called Beautiful or Elegant. I know not, whether -:k is not for this reafon, that Figures (o compleat as circles, fquares, ellipfes, equilateral triangles, hexagons, &c. imprefs ns "with the notion of beauty. Certain it is, that the more accurately they are drawn, the more beautiful they appear. Were we to confider any two of fuch figures, a fquare, for example, and a circle, or a cube and a globe, limply as they are in themfelves, and without regard to their colour, fubftance, or ufe, we might be at a lofs to determine, which of the two excelled in beauty. But v/hen ws fee them in furniture, or in ar- chite6ture, that matter will be decided according to the ideas of wlfdom or folly, of convenience or inconvenience, which they con- vey to the mind. Make a fphere the bafe, and a cube the upper end, of a pillar; and we are offended with the impropriety : for fuch a column cannot fland, and the defigner muft have been a fool. Reverfe the pofition of the figures ; and make the cube a pedeftal, and put the fphere on the top ; and, if the other parts be in due proportion, we acknowledge the whole to be beautiful, be- caufe it is convenient, and does forae honour to the archite6f. Even a prepofterous combination, like what is here fuppofed, will pleafe, when it is contrived fo as to convey, in the way of allegory, a good moral meaning. Fortune, reprefented as a female {landing on a fphere, is an exprefilve emblem to denote mutability ; and this we allow to be an elegant invention in Ccbes, v. ho I think is tlie firft author that fpeaks of it. Beauty of form is faid to depend in part on variety and pro- portion. An equilateral triangle is more beautiful, becaufe more •Tegular, than a figure of three unequal fides: and a hexagon than a pentagon; becaufe it has more variety; and becaufe the 7 pi'oportion Sea. IV. OF I M A G X N A T I O N. 115 proportion of the angles and bounding lines is more immediately difcerniblc in the former, than in the latter. But variety, with- out proportion, or fome other quality conne6ted with agreeable ideas, it not beautiful ; for what beauty can there be in a figure of twenty unequal fides ? And what is it, that renders Proportion beautiful, but felie pleafing ideas of Ikill, contrivance, and conveni- ence, which it conveys to the mind of the beholder ? This proportion in things vifible, which is ellimated by the eye only, and cannot be afcejtained by meafure or calculation, is not eafdy defined in words. It implies convenience -, for no proportion is good, that makes a thing inconvenienL It implies good con- trivance-, for what is ill-proportioned can hardly be faid to be •well-contrived. And it implies fuch a coincidence, of the part to which it belongs, with the intended efieft of the whole, as not to hurt the general defign : for, in an elegant work, as the front of a building, no part or member will be allowed to be in exa6l propor- tion, which withdraws our attention from the whole, or which we cannot contemplate without overlooking the reft of the piece. This laffc charadler, of the component members of any beautiful fyftem, is commonly called harmony, fymmetry, or a right adjuftment of parts. Now fymmetry, good contrivance, and convenience, are all pleafing ; and therefore, tliat which comprehends them all muft be pleafmg; and, confequently, if an 6bje6l of fight, beautiful. Dlf- "proportion, and too much ornament, convey the idea of incon- venience and bad tafte ; and are, therefore, not beautiful, becaufe "to a confiderate mind difagreeable. In beautiful things, Utility is efTential : for all beauty gives pleafure ; and that cannot pleafe, which is plainly ufelefs, or re- ,pugnant to ufe. With perfeft beauty of form, and of colour, the .greateft utihty is often united, in the works of nature. In them too, it has been remarked by an elegant writer, that what we con- 0^2 , fider ii6 OF IMAGINATION. Chap.H. fider as fliikingly beautiful is for the mofl: part fmooth in the furface, and rather below the ordinaiy fize, than abo^^e it. A craggy mountain is a fublime obje^l:, and its crags may add to its fublimity ; but a beautiful hill is, or appears to be, fmooth. The flatue of Minei-va muft be tall, dignity being her charafrerj but a gigantick Venus would be abfurd ; that of Medici is little more than five feet. * Now, wlience comes it, that fmoothnefs, and moderate fmalnefs, fhould enter into our idea of beauty ? Is it not, becaufe the efredl of beauty is, to compofe, as that of fublimity is, to elevate the foul ; and becaufe what is fmooth, and what is not large, conveys a notion of eafe, and manageablencfs, and foftnefs, which tend as effedually to fettle the mind, as the idea of vafbnefs and difficulty tends to roufe it ? Befides, moderate fize, and an even furface, are favourable to fimplicity -, which is foothing to our nature, becaufe it promotes an eafy and perfect compreiienfioii of things. We are pleafed, when we readily and thoroughly underftand ; for this makes us think well of our own faculties ; but to be perplexed and puzzled, is tirefome, and mortifying. In elegance of almoft every Ibit, of manners, of ^anguage, of m>ufick, of architecture, of attitude, and of drapery, * In the following pafTage, Talia jadtabam, et furiata n;ente ferebar ; Cum mihi fe, non ante oculis tarn clara, videndam Obtulit, et pura per no'£lem in luce refuJlit, Alma Parens, confefla Deam, qualifque videri Cslicolis, el qi?anta folet j^ineid. ii. 588. /Eneas, or Virgil infinuatcs, that Venus, wh.en (lie condefcended to become vifible to mortals, affumed a fmaller form, than when (he appeared among the Gods. And for this there was good reafon. Her etherial kindred were much mightier, and confe- quently taller, than her friends in the lower world ; and a Venus, adapted to the ter- rcftrial tafte, would have been thought too diminutive by the lofty inhabitants of Olympus. Simplicity Sea:. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 1 17 Simplicity is indirj)enfable *. It is perliaps of all graces the moft difliciilt to acquire by art, (for fome have it from nature) ; and it is that, which to c:n uncorrupted tafte yields the moft durable fatif- fa6lion. In feminine attire, neat Jimplicily is Juflly confidered by Horace -f-, as a moft captivating circumftance; Of beautiful animals, and of the moft- beautiful parts cf animals, the figure-, is generally bounded by curves, rather than by ftraight lines; except where thefc laft may be neceffary to ftiength or convenience. Were tlie human body, or were the breaft and back of a horfe, a dove, or any other well-fhaped animal, to terminate on all fides hi right lines and angles, inftead of that flowing curve which winds fo gracefully around them, every one muft be fenfible, that, the beauty of (liape. would be entirely deftroyed. The peculiar curvature of this v^anding line is not eafily defcrlbed in words. Hogarth,, in the figures thatilluftrate his Analyfis of Beauty, has made it obvious to the eye, by many ingenious contrivances. Suppofe a feries of curves ; — the firft bent like the letter S in the Roman printed charafter, or like two femicircles of the fame radius running into one another with oppofite convexities ; — to pro- ceed gradually, v/ith a lefs and lefs degree of flexure, till the curve almoft difappear in a right line : — it feems to be in the middle between the firft and this laft, that the waving line I fpeak of is to be found. Now I am inchned to think, that, on the principles hei-e adopted, a good reafon may be given for our preferring this curve in- animals, and efpecially in the human frame ; and, confequently, for our being pleafed with it in fuch other things, as may afturne it without inconvenience. It is the medium, between a defect and an excefs ; between too much plumpnefs and too little ; between * ElUiy on Poetry and.Mufick. Part i. chap, 6. k^. 2. § 4. > Qi. i. 5. • 4 that^ ^i iS .^O F I M A G I N A T I O N . Chap. IL that iuxurlancy of fubftance, wdiich conveys the idea of unwieldinefs or weaknefs, and that fcantinefs which is generally known to ac- company decay. In infants, thefe curves are too much bent, on account of the redundancy of flefli compared with the fmalnefs of the fize; in old-age, they are bent too little, and approach to right lines, on account of the defe6t of moifture ; in the prime of hfe, they are neither the one nor the other, but a middle between both. — This fliape, therefore, is by cuftom aflbciated in our minds with the idea of that period, when tlie bodily powers are moft compleat, and equally remote from infirmity on the one hand, and imperfedion on the other. Surely it is not wonderful, that a form, which conveys the notion of youth, and confequently of joy and hope, of health, ftrength, and aflivity, and of generous and warm affections, fhould pleafe more, and for that reafon be accounted more beautiful, than thofe other forms, that convey ideas of infufHciency, and feeblenefs, or of decay, defpondence, and -melancholy. I mean not to infinuate, that the body of an infant, and that of an old man, are equally remote from the ftandard of perfedl beauty. Infancy has its peculiar charms -, and every feeling heart knows them to he irrefillable. Innocence, helplefnefs, playfulnefs, frefh- nefs of conftitution and of colour, vn\k\. the confideration that it is advancing to maturity, all confpire to recommend infancy to our love, by fuggefling a thoufand delightful ideas : — whereas a jiuman body, emaciated with age, can boafl of none of thofe charms ; and, inflead of complacency and hope, calls forth the jjainful pafTions of regret and forrow. But let me corre6l myfelf. This is an idea of decrepitude, rather ?than of old age. The lafl period of life, like the evening fky, is =often diflinguiflied by a luflre, not dazzling indeed, nor ardent, ilike the fplendour of noon, but no lefs pleafmg to a contemplative inind. Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 119 mind. A frcfh old age, with chearfulnefs, good fcnfe, and a good confcience, though it cannot be called the lovclieft, is however the mod venerable, of all terreflrial things. The curve of beauty is not in every cafe beautiful. Nothing Indeed is fo, that neceflarily brings difagreeable thoughts. If the horfe were as flow as the fnail, we fhould be lefs inclined to admire his fliape, than to naufeate his unwieldy magnitude. If pillars twiftal into this winding form were fo flendcr as to raife a fulpicion of weaknefs, their fine outlines would not prevent our difapprobation. — Hogarth's admiration of this curve feems to have been excelTive. He takes every opportunity to intioduce it : and hence it has been remarked of his pidlures, that they want that firmnefs and {lability, which is produced by right lines, and which, when neceffary or convenient, is always to be feen in the works of nature. Few appearances in the animal world are more pleafing, than a horfe of high mettle running at full fpeed, his mane and tail ftreaming in the wind, with noiie of thofe trappings that betoken fervitude, and not disfigured by the prunings Oi barbarous art : we admire the fliape and the m.otion; vve fympathilJb (if I may » fo fpeak) with the animal's confcioufnefs of freedom and indepen- dence; and, if we have any thing of a painter's eye, we arc ftruck with the waving lines that predominate fo remarkably in his figure. All this we call beautiful, becaufe we arc plcafcd with it : and it pleafes, chiefly- becaufe it intimates many agreeable confiderations of youth, ftrength, fvviftnefs, and other qualities, which are valuable in themfelves, and particularly ufeful in this noble creature. What we call beauty in a cow, is a different thing. That fort of beafl, if fliaped like a horfe, would not pleafe ; firft, becaufe it would appear unnatural, which is an offenfive ideaj and, fecondly, becaufe it v/ould give us no reafon to 120 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. to expect thofe good qualities, for which a cow is valued. In different fpecies ofvifible things, therefore, beauty is not the fame. But, in every fpecies, that form will be accounted beautiful, which raifes in the beholder ideas of perfection, ufefulnefs, and other endearing qualities. May not, then, our approbation and our difapprobation, of particular animal fliapes and figures, be accounted for, upon this principle; that, by long habit, we have learned, that fome are connected with agreeable, and others with difagreeable circum- ftances ? Previouily to fome knowledge of the nature of any animal, or fome conjectures in regard to it, we fliould not probably determine any thing concerning the beauty of its figure. * In "* A great aitift and e-\'celJcnt writer accounts for the pleafure we take in teautifui forun or figure^^ upon this principle, that our minds are more accuftomed to them than to any other. His theory is as follows. " We could not perceive the *' beauty of any animal till we were acquainted with feveral animals of the fame " kind. Had we never feen more than one human face, we (hould not have '■ been in a condition to fay, whether in refpeifl of the JJiape of the features it "were beautiful or Gthervvife ; and the more we are accuftomed to view a variety " of forms of any particular fort, horfes, flatues, houfes, he. the better judges *' we become of that fort of beauty. Now, fays our Author, Beauty is that, which " nature feems always to intend, and which is actually produced oftener than "any one form of uglinefs. A ftraight nofe, for example, is more frequently *' feen, than any one curvature of tiiat part ; -and more frequently occurs to our " fancy, becaufe every deviation from it puts us in mind of if. That fliape, *' therefore, of the nofe we account the moft beautiful ; or, in other words, that " fhape , gives us tlie .greatefl pleafure, becaufe it is moft familiar to our eyes and " imagination." See the eighty-fccond paper of Tke Id'.cr. This ingenious theory is not inconfiftent with mine, though it refolves the phi- 4ofopiiy of beauty in form sr Jlmpe into a fimpler and more general principle. Jt is, no doubt, natural, for us to contraft a liking to what we have been accuftomed to, even when in itfclf indifferent. Many of the brutes do fo. An apartment in which I had lived without uneafinefs for a few weeks, I could nc\er leave with- out fame degree of concern. 'J'hat for this reafon merely, and independently on agreeable afiaciations, we (hould prefer thofe forms that are moft familiar to the mind. Sect. IV. OF IMAGINATION. t2i In the article of drcTs, our notions of beauty, as clfcwherc obferved, depend much upon cuflom. What is mod faOiionabJri appears to common eyes moil beautiful *. But are there no fixed principles of beauty in drcfs ? Are not the Greek and the Roman draperies allowed to be more graceful than our modern French garb ? They are fo. For they abound more in the flowing curve above-mentioned : and for this reafon, and becaufc they arc more fimplc and manageable than our attire, they comj^ly more eafily with the natuial bendings and outlines of, the fined animal fonn we know, the human body; and of courfe faow it to greater advantage. Our drclfcs difguife, and often disfigure, tlic body; confound the proportion which one part bears to another ; and prcfent to the eye a multitude of fliarp angles and right lines, fuch as we know are not to be fccn in any elegant animal figure. We are however reconciled to them on ordinary occalions : but in ftatues they appear ridiculous ; and therefore a good ftatue nnift be either naked, or drefled in the Greek or Roman, or fome other graceful fadiion -f. The fame thing holds true of thofe painted portraits, in which permanent elegance is more fludied than exadl likenefs. — We are fure, that the figure of the human body will always pleafe, on account of the many agreeable thoughts it muft ever prefent to the human mind. Thofe drefles that difguife it lead will, therefore, have a chance to be mod frequently, and longed, in fafiiion ; and mud, by confequence, mind, I fee no renfon to deny. Thus far I acquiefce in the author's theory. And I prefunie it will be granled, in favour of mine, that a fliglit liking thus con^ trailed at firft would by fubrequent aflbcialions of a pleafing nature be improved into a ftronger attachment, and [o beftow additional charms on the captivating form. * See tlie preceding Sedlion. f HiTay on Poetry and Ivlufick. Part i. chap. 3. R in 122 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IL in flatues, and other imitations, tliat are intended for the publick eye, and to laft many years, be preferable to fuch forms of attire- as are Hkely to have only a tranfient vogue, and to derive tliat more from cuilom and prejudice, than from any intrinfick excel- lezice, or natural propriety. As far as the beauty of attire depends upon its fuitablenefs to perfons and charafters, the cuftom of the country muft pafs for the ftandard. Different drelTes belong to different fexes, ranks, and profeflions. In all countries, where variety of drefs Was attainable, this notion has ever prevailed. A man in a wo- man's garb is an uncoutli figure : clergymen and foldiers are knov/n by the cut, as well as by the colour, of their cloaths : and the fame apparel, which is becoming in a country maid, would be unfeemly in a lady of rank appearing in her own character. In all thefe matters, we are offended, when the common rules are not obferved. And for this there is good reafon. He who endeavours to intro- -'■duce a change in the garb that cuftom has appropriated to his profeflion, fex, and age, muft have his mind very much fet upon trifles ; and think, either that he is wifer than other men, or that his eminence entitles him to diftinguifli himfelf in this way. "Alterations in the fafliion of drefs muft indeed happen, as the world is now conftituted; but that man is a fop, who would vvifh them to happen by his means. Nay, he is worfe than a fop, if, by attempting an unneceffary change, he give offence to thofe whom it is his duty to pleafe; and fo make himfelf lefs ufeful in fociety than he ought to be. I wifli this hint may be of ufe to fome young clergymen whom I have heard of. Thirdly. Beauty of Gesture is not confined to any one ftate of the body. The creflnefs of the Apollo Belvidere; the leaning attitude of the Antinous ; and the bending, flirinking form Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION. J23 form of the Venus of Medici, are all very beautiful. The firfl: conveys the ideas of majefty, a(n:ivity, and fcrcngth ; the fecond of compofurc, acquiefcence, and eafe; and the third, of confcious beauty united with modefty. It is our knowledge of the influence of human thoughts vipon the human body, that enables us to difcern thefe meanings in thofe attitudes : and as all thefe ideas are extremely pleafing, the ftatues that fuggeft them muft be equally {o. To which I may add, that, in thefe figures, perfeft beauty of form is united with gracefulnefs of attitude ; and the one heightens the other : we admire the fliapc on account of the attitude, and the attitude on account of the fliape ; and both the one and the other we admire on account of thofe delightful ideas, with which they are affociated in our imagination. Bcfides, each of the attitudes in queftion is natural, and fuch as a well- formed human body may continue in, without pain, for a con- fiderable time. For it may in general be remarked, that no human geilure can be beautiful, which conveys any difagreeable idea of infirmity, unwieldinefs, rcflraint, or affedation. Many of thofe fleps in the minuet, and other dances, which one cannot at firfl perform without fome danger of falling, feem to me rather to furprife, becaufe they are difficult, than to pleafe, becaufe they are graceful. Figures finically contrafted, in- which the eyes feem to point one way, and the refl of the body another, and the left leg is an exa£t counterpart to the right arm, and the left arm to the right leg, and the very fingers appear to be at variance each with its neic'h- bour, are too artificial, and have too much the air of reftraint, to pleafe thofe who love nature and fimplicity. They were however .much affected by the French painters of the lad age : but we do not find this affectation in the pictures of Reynolds; and in his Difcourfcs he has particularly cautioned the fludent agaaifl it, R 2 Nor 124 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. Nor can that be a beautiful attitude, which is incongruous to the action, or fentiment, by which it is fuppofed to be produced. A human figure, leaning againft a pillar, and yet perfeftly up- light, would not pleafe ; becaufe we know that fuch a thing can- not be, without conflraint and pain. Archers {looping, while they draw the bow to fliioot their arrows to a great diflance, would fuggeft the idea of infirmity, or want of fkillj but, if they were taking a near aim, that pofture would not be unfeemly. An ere6l carriage of the body is often convenient, and generally pro- iitable to health ; but is gi^aceful only when it is fuited to the emotion that is fuppofed to be in the mind. It becomes a foldicr in arms, becaufe it accompanies, and betokens, elevation of mind'; it becomes a perfon, whofe rank and abilities entitle him to have a fenfe of his own dignity; it becomes any man, or any woman', who is provoked to exert a laudable indignation ; and it is becom- ing in thofe motions and dances, that are intended to fliow the human ftature and fiiape to advantage ,- but, as the concomitant of modefly, humihty, refpeft, intreaty, compaflion, or forrow, or even of indolence, compofiire, or the defire of rcH: after fatigue, it would be offenfive, becaufe unnatural. I diftinguifh here between Expreffion and Beauty. Conflrained, and even painful attitudes, may be very exprefllve ; and as fuch are approved of : but, though we call them well-imagined, wfcll- execifted, and natural, we cannot in ilri6l language call them beautiful. Such are thofe of Laocoon and his fons, flruggling with ferpents, and with "the pangs of death. Such is. that of the wounded gladiator; which fo emphatically marks the lall eftbrt of nature, and the laH: moment of life. And fuch is the poUure of the flave, who is fuppofed to liften to the fecret talk of coiv- fpirators : he cannot continue in it without pain ; and yet the eagernels Sea. IV. OF I M A G I N- A T I O N. 1125 cagcnicfs of his attention, and the Rrr of lofing one flngle vvhifper;. or of being overheard, will not permit him to change it. Fourthly : Beauty and Awkvvardnefs of Moti,on are not cafily defcribed in words: but will, I believe, be found, the one to pleafe^ the other to difplcafe, on account chiefly of certain agreeable ideas fuggefted by tlic former, and of certain difagreeable ones aflbciatetl with the latter. Motions, that imply eafe, with fuch an arrangement and propor- tion of parts in the moving objeft, as give rcafon to think, they may continue for fome time without injury to it, arc generally jiileafmg ; at lead: in animals ; efpeeially w^hen they betoken a fort of perfeftion fuited to the nature of the animal. But motioncj that betray infirmity, unwieldinefs, imperfection, or the appear:- ance of danger, cannot be called beautiful,, becaufe they convey unpleafmg ideas. A ftrong and ilend^r young man in the race, or a high-mettled horfe or greyhound at full fpeed, prefents an image of the former kind : and the jumping and capering of an ox or cow j , the flouncing of a large fifli thrown on the land. ; the waddling fteps of an infiint that alarms us every moment with the fear of its falling, and the walk of a man crippled by labour, gout, or old- age, or rendered fluggifli by corpulency, are examples of the latter. I think it is RoufTeau, who obferves, that, in running, a woman has nothing of that grace, which attendi her on other occafions. Perhaps the jutting out of her elbows, the natural elfccl of her endeavouring with lifted hands to fecure the mofi delicate part of the female frame, may give to. her motion the appearance of timiditv and conftraint. Or perhaps fhc may feem to fair in this exercife, merely becaufe, according to our manners, flie cannot be much accuftomed to it. Ovid lays, that Daphne's beauty was heightened by her running j but he accounts for it, without any contradiiSHon to 126 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. 11. to this philofophy *. Virgil, in celebrating the fpeed of Camilla, fays not a word of the gracefulnefs of her motion, -f- The former poet affirms, in his Art of Love +, that Venus was ilill graceful, even when, for the amufement of a friend, Die ufed io take off t\\& limping gait of poor old Vulcan. Perhaps it might be fo. Such mimickry in fo lovely a lady would convey an idea, not of infirmity, but of playfulnefs. Yet in mere mortal beauties I apprehend that mimickry .is not very becoming ; becaufe there is fomething vulgar in it. For no power of outward charms will reconcile a difcerning eye to any motion, or any fort of behaviour, though known to be affumed, which betrays indelicacy, or want of tafte. So that, without fenfe and virtue, even a beautiful woman, who afpires to general admiration, has a very difficult part to aft. But where thefe are united in an elegant form, we fay, with the poet, 111 am, quicquid agit, quoquo veftigia fleftit, Componit furtim, fubfequiturque decor. || which, though not cafily tranflated, may be thus paraphrafed ; '* Wherever ffie moves, Grace attends her ; whatever (he does, " Grace, without the appearance of art or defign, adjufts her form, " and regulates all her motions." The heaving of unbroken waves in the fea is beautiful; perhaps on account of their fmoothnefs, uniformity, and eafy curvature, fuggefling the idea of vait agitation without difficulty; which for many obvious reafons muil: be more agreeable, than a fluggifli or weak exertion with tiu'bulence. A fliip's progrcfs through a fwelling, but not tempeftuous ocean, is alfo extremely beautiful : for it fills the mind with many plealing images ; the boldnefs, the ikill, and the fecurity of the mariner ; the pcrfe£tion of that me- chanifn, which is not endangered by fo mighty an effort; and the * Metam. i. 527. •}- ^r.cid. Vii. 810, % Lib. ii. 570. I Tibullus. Eleg. iv. 7. ^ advantages Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 127 advantnges of navigation and commerce. And in both cafes, the fublimity confpires with the beauty of the objeds to heighten the plcafure cf the beholder. The enraged Atlantick, rifing in moun- tains, is fubhme in the higheft degree, and would yield a pleafing aftoniflimcnt to one who could fee it without fear * ; but conveys too many ideas of danger and difficulty, to produce that foothing and chearful delight, which attends the contcmplaiion of what Js beautiful. A flag or ftreamer hanging without motion, being emblematical cf inaftivity, is not beautiful -, except fo far as it may pleafe by the glare of the colours, or by fuggefting the idea of calmnefs and refc. But flags and ilreamers, flying in the wind, gratify the eye by the varying fliades of colour, and by their cafy volubility ; and afFecl the imagination with many agreeable, ideas of bufy life, and military fplendor. Dryden has exprefled this with a pleafing and pifturefque extravagance. The flag aloft fpread ruffling to the wind. And fanguine ftreamers feem the flood to fire : The weaver, charm'd with what his loom defign'd. Goes on to fea, and knows not to retire. ■^ He feems to have been fond of the image ; for, in another place, defcribing a banner, in which the god of war was painted, he fays, with his wonted energy, Red was his fword, and fliield, and whole attire. And all the Godhead feem'd to glow with fire^ Even the ground glitter'd where the ftreamer flcvv, And the green grafs was died with fanguine hue. J It is' not eafy to determine, whether the fublime or the bcawtiful, . predominates in this paliagc. * Sec IIluArations on Sublimity. •}■ Annus Alirabilis. % Kniglu's Ta!.-, The 128 OF I M A G I N A T I O N. Chap. IL The plodding pace of a plowman is awkward : for it leads us to think of bodily powers impaired by toil, or net exercifed to advan- tage; of manners uncultivated; and of other evils attending, or fuppofed to attend, a life of labour and penury. But the plowman himfelfis not fcnfible of any thing ungraceful in his walk; becaufe all his friends and neighbours have it, and he knows of none better. In faft we fee, that peafants imitate one another in this refped ; and that the young and the nimble alTume of choice thofe motions, which are naturally exprefiive of age, infirmity, and wearinefs. But far more unfcemly are the ftrut of the folemn, and the wriggle of the pert, coxcomb : whofe every motion fliows vanity and affeftation, with a naufeous degree of felf-attention and felf-fuf- iiciency^ Cicero, In name of the Stoicks (with whom Grace or Dignity xonfifted in a perfecl famenefs of look and of geflure on all occafions) blames every motion, that alters the countenance, quickens the breath, or betrays any difcompofure *. But I believe the molt eager motion would appear graceful, if it were underftood to exprefs a good affeftion : as that of a child, after long abfence, fpringing to the embrace of a parent. Nothing will offend the eye, which either warms the heart with pleafmg paflions, or conveys agreeable images to the fancy. That air, and thofe motions, which in common life we call graceful, comprehend many particulars, every one of which will on examination be found, to be alTociated with, and to convey, agreeable ideas of moral, intelleftual, or corporeal excellence. A graceful air implies prefence of mind, and a perfecl command of the body ; with a gentle, chearful, and free demeanour, neither jencumbcred by timidity, nor fluttering into petulance ; but pi-e- * Cicero de Off. lib. i. § 36. ferving. Sea.IV. of IMAGINATION. 129 fcrvlng, between what is rude and what Is finical, between pride and abjc6lnefs, between modefty and alFara/ice, that due medium which betokens mildnefs, gcncrofity, and fnvh, a kind attention to others, and a forgetfuhiefs of one's fcif; with fuch other points of decorum, as put us in mind of the pleahng ideas connected with elegant converfation, and pohte manners. And all tliis mud ap- pear unftudied and habitual; that it may not convey any difagree- able notion of conftraint or hypocrify. What is taught in fchools of exercife is chiefly intended to corre6l, or to prevent, evil habits, and to give one the command of one's body ; but nmft no more be pra6lifed on the ordinary occafions of life, than the formal ftyle of declamation is to be introduced into familiar dialogue. It is probable, that the antient Greeks and Romans excelled us in elegance of motion and attitude. For their bodies were kept a6live by continual exercife, and were not clogged, as we are, with cumberfome apparel : and, befides, they were taught (at leaft the men were) to fit, to ftand, to walk, and to run gracefully. Yet Cicero complains, and we too have caufe to complain, that many of the motions pra6tifed in tlie theatre, and by the mafters of exer- cife, are offenfive, becaufe too remote from nature and (implicity, and unbefceming the decorum of the manly chara6ler. * In the days of heroifm and fable, goddelTes were known by their air, and efpecially by their motion. Juno piqued herfelf on her auguft demeanour. Aft ego, quae Divum incedo regina— >-Jovifquc Et foror, et conjux — But I, who move in majefty on high, Confort of Jove, and Emprefs of tlie fky— One fees the lofty air, and the ftately ftep, witli which the proud queen of Olympus pronounced thefe words. Venus, though not * Cicero de Off. lib. i. 36, S fq 130 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. fo majeftic a perfonage, had however a certain natural walk, which file could not fall into, without dtfcovering her rank. When flie put off the alTumed charafter of the Tyrian huntrefs, it was not the a6t of turning away, and difclofing the bloom of a rofy neck ; nor the divine odour breathed from her hair ; nor her robe flowing down to the ground, that made her known even to her own fon t but when he faw her in motion, then Vera incessu patuit Dea. The Goddefs by her graceful walk is known. This may fliow, how highly an elegant air in walking was efteemec? by theantients. Indeed it is hardly poflible for the moil ordinary beholder to fee it without emotion. He who cannot difcern a mind in it, muft however derive pleafure from the harmony of bodily parts, and from the eafe and freedom, the energy and compofure,. with which they exert themfelves. Dancing is conne6led with fo many delightful ideas, of youth, health, activity, chearfulnefs, and beauty, that the motions com- monly pra6lifed in it cannot fail to pleafe, unlefs accompanied' with fome peculiarity that conveys a difagreeable fuggeftion of de- formity, want of fkill, affeftation, impudence, or any other in- congruity. But I need not remark, becaufe it is obvious, that the motions of different dancers differ exceedingly in refpe6t of grace. Much will depend on the comelinefs, good fliape,«and agihty of the perfon ; on the eafe wherewith the feveral movements and' evolutions are performed, and on their perfe6l coincidence with the expreflion and rhythm of the mufick, and with the rules of the. dance. That all dances are not equally gi'aceful, is no lefs obvious, Thofe that fhow to advantage the motion, fliape, and aftivity^ o£ the human body, are always approved of. But fome fteps, as al- ready obfervedj particularly in the hornpipe and minuet, feem to derive Sett. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 131 derive a charm rather from their difliculty, than from their elegance. The latter dance, if I can truft my own judgment, is not fo grace- ful in men, as in women; whofe full and flowing attire not only gives dignity to their mien, and an eafy winding curvature to their motion, but alfo conceals the inconvenient, and (I had almoft faid) diflorted pofition of the feet. Left I (hould get beyond my depth (being no great connoifTeur in this elegant art) I fliall only obferve further, that fome dances pleafe, by uniting regularity with apparent diforder ; which yields the gratification of furprife, and conveys a favourable idea of the fkill, with which they are planned and condufled. Some pieces of mufick are contrived with a like purpofe, and pleafe from the fame principle : as Fugues, in which different voices or inftfuments take up the fame ah', but not all at the fame time ; fo that one is, as it were, the echo, or an imitation, of another. And yet the general refult is, not diflbnance or confufion, which one would be apt to expert, but perfe6l harmony. This gives an agreeable furprife ; and heightens our admiration of the compofer's (kill, and of the dexterity of the performers. I know not, whether any other poet lias in fo few words conveyed fo many charming ideas of Beauty, in its feveral varieties of colour^ JJ:ape, attitude, and motion, as Gray has combined in the following image. Slow melting ftrains their Queen's approach declare j Where'er flie turns the Graces homage pay : With arms fublime that Jioat upon the air. In gliding Jiate {he wins her ea^ way j O'er hei" njaann cheek, and rifmg bofom, move The bloom oi young defirc, 2ccA purple light of love, S 2 As ^32 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. As the human voice is that found, which more diredly than any other makes its way, through the ear, to the heart of maui fo that, which to his eye difplays the greateft variety of beauty in the narroweft compafs, is the human countenance. So ftrong is our predilection for this mafterpiece of nature, that, if the highell: created being were to prefent himfelf to our view, we cannot but tliink he would bear a refemblance to " the human face divine." And hence we approve of tliofe fictions in painting and poetry, that defcribe angels and perfonified virtues in the form of beauti- ful men and women. I do not fay, that the pleafure we take in beholding this wonder- ful affemblage of vifible charms is altogether the effec^t of aflbciations, founded in experience, and eftabliftied by habit. But that it may be partly accomited for, from this caufe, I have no fcruple to affirm. It will, I think, be allowed, that regular features, illuminated by fine colours, would not be very beautiful, if they were void of expreflion, nor beautiful at all, if they had a bad expreffion. Or, if fuch a face could be fuppofed capable of gaining admirers, it mufl: only be among thofe (and many fuch, indeed, there are) who, not having fagacity to read the foul in the countenance, are no competent judges of human beauty. On the other hand, homely features that exprefs good underftanding, and a kind, a gentle, and a chearful temper, are never difagreeable to thofe who can ' difcern their meaning, but may on the contrary be very agreeable, or even truly amiable. Now, previoufly to experience, we fhould not know, what looks are fignificant of good, or what of bad mental qualities ; nor, con- fequently, would the former convey to us any pleafmg, or the latter any unpleafmg ideas. Nay, previous to experience, we fliould not kr^ow, what colour of face accompanies health and youth, or what betokens Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION.. 133 betokens tlie contrary ; nor, of courfe, could we have any reafon for preferring any one complexion to any other. But having learned, that certain forms, and colours, of features do commonly intimate certain agreeable qualities of mind and body ; they become as clofely allbciated in our imagination or memory, as the words o£ a known language are with the thoughts they ftand for; fo that the outward fign is no fooner peixeived, thaji the idea fignified prefents iifelf. In proof of this reafoning, it might be remarked, that perfons, who, from want of years, or of natural fagacity, are not quick- fighted in what relates^ to the mind, are mod liable to be captivated by regular features, and a glowing complexion ; while more experi- enced or more penetrating obfervcrs are not thoroughly pleafed, unlefs where they difcern thofe nicer, and more fignificant graces, that feem to betoken intelle6lual accomplifliments, and moral virtues. The mofl flriking- feature of the face, and that' to which we moft frequently d'nxdi our view, is the eye. This, with the eyelids, the eyelaflies, and the eyebrow, is the chief feat of exprefllon. At this window (as the wife man calls it) the foul is often fcen in her genuine character, even when the porter below (I mean the tongue) is endeavouring to perfuade us, that fae is not within, that flie is otherwife employed, or that flie is quite a different perfon. Smiles and fadnefs difplay themfelves partly at the mouth; the former by raifmg, the latter by depreffing, the corners of it ; and yet we might in many cafes miftake a laughing for a weeping countenance, if we did not fee the eye. Indeed this little organ, whether fparkling with joy, or melting in forrow ; whether gleam- ing with indignation, or languidiing in tendernefs ; v/hether glov,'- ing with the fleady light of deliberate valour, or fending forth emanations of goodwill and gratitude, is one of the moft interefting 4: objects 1^4 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. 'obje6ls in the whole vifible univerfe. There is more in it, than fhape, motion, and colour ; there is thought and pafllon -, there is hfe and foul ; there is reafon and fpeech. — Now, what is it, that conftitutes the beauty of this feature ? And why are we more ■pleafed with fome appearances of it, than with others ? Venus fays, in Shakfpeare, Mine eyes are gray, and bright, and quick in turning : * that is, are of a dark colour, of a fine water, (to take an allufion from diamonds) and of a diverfified expreffion. A dark-coloured iris may perhaps be r.atiirally more pleafing, than a fainter one ; becaufe it forms a moi'e ftriking conti aft with the whitenefs of the ball, and occafions a more brilliant reflexion of the light : and bright colours are, as I remarked already, preferred even by diildren to fuch as are obfcure. And the motions, and confequently the expreffion, of a blue or a hazel eye, are difcernible joiore immediately, more accurately, and at a greater diftance, than thofe of light-coloured eyes. Thus far I may allow the beauty of this organ to be intrinfick and abfolutej and not to depend on affociated ideas of moral, intelle<5lual, or bodily excellence. But an eye may be dark-coloured, and yet not beautiful. If in its motion there be fuch languor, unfteadinefs, or uniformity, as we know by experience to accompany a liftlefs temper, a wander- ing or bewildered attention, or an unvaried famenefs or a want of thought, it will fuggeft unpleafmg ideas,' and rather difl'atisfy, than in te reft us. Dark eyes,, .that feem to imply mental deficiency, are even more difagreeable, becaufe more obfervable, than fuch as with the fame expreffion have a fainter colour. An eye, that is bright, or of a fine water, is generally beautiful, if there be nothing often five in the expreffion. For it conveys the * Shakfpearc's Venus and Adonis. agreeable Seel. IV. OF IMAGINATION. ijs agreeable ideas of perfcdion, health, and foundncG. And as lively thoughts and pafTions are obfcrved to give brilliancy to tliis organ ; I'o that brilliancy, wherever it appears, is apt to raife in the beholder ideas of vivacity, acutenefs, chearfulnefs, generofity, and other pleafing qualities. No wonder then, that it fhould be ac- counted beautiful. That " quickncfs in turning," which the poet juflly imagines to be effential to fine eyes, betokens in the mind a capacity of pafliiig readily from one thought to another ; an agreeable talent, when accompanied with good fenfe ; and juft the reverfe of fulkn- nefs, inattention, and ftupidity. The fixed and unvaried gl;ire of an inexpreflive eye is frightful. It puts one in mind of death, and is fuch a look as we fhould expect in a ghoft. So our great post, underftands it : Thou haft no fpeculation in thofe eyes Which thou doft glare V'/ith — fays Macbeth to the murdered Banquo. So Spenfer, in a paflijge equal to any thing that ever was written in defcriptive poetry : On every fide, them ftood The trembling ghofts, with fad amazed mood,. Chattering their iron teeth, and flaring wide With ftony eyes. * In fa6l, the beauty of the eye depends chiefly upon its exprenion. If it convey a favourable idea of the mind that gives it animation, we muft be pleafed with it in the fame proportion, in which we approve die good qualities that feem to be expreffed by it. And as eyes may intimate good mental qualities, whatever be their colour, io eyes of any colour, at leaft of any common colour, may be. * Fairy Queen. Book i. canto 5. ftanza 34. beautifuli. ^3 6 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. beautiful. The expreffion of fuch as are dark-coloured is no doubt keener, and more emphatical, than that of others ; but an agree- able exprejjion is not confined to any colour, nor excluded from any. And the fame thing is true of a difagreeable expreflion. Eyes of the cleai"eft water, and bed colour, will be viewed with dif- like, if they be thought to fpeak the language of envy, pride, fuf- picion, cruelty, or folly. The beauty of the other features may be accounted for in the fame way. White and red are, no doubt, beautifulin themfelves; and marvellous is the delicacy, with which they are blended in a blooming countenance. But, although, without fuch a compo- fition of white and red, human beauty, according to our notions of it, cannot be perfe6l ; yet the pleafure we take in a fine com- plexion arifes chiefly (as already obferved) from the ideas of youth, health, modefty, and gentlenefs, which are its natural aflbciates. If it were to fugged to us (as it probably does to a grown up negro, when he firfl fees it) the idea of imperfeflion or difeafe, or of any thing unnatural in the human frame, we fhould turn away from it in difgud. Of the features confidered ab(lra6ledly, and without regard to the complexion, it may be remarked in general, that what we call regularity is accounted beautiful. But why is it fo ? Is it not, be- caufe it betokens an even temper, and the abfence of thofe paffions whereby the features are m.ade irregular j and becaufe that propor- tion, which we mod approve in the feveral parts of the face, is found to be the mod- convenient, and confequently the moft perfcdl ? Every evil pallion mai's in a greater or Icfs degree the regularity of the features : and if a very large nofe were more ufcful than one of a moderate fize, we fliould certainly prefer the former. A feature greatly raifcd above, or diminifhed below, its due pro- portion j that is, above or below that proportion, which is mod common. Sea.IV. OF IMAGINATION. 137 common, and known to be moft convenient, difpleafes, by fuggcfling painful ideas of excefs, or deficiency, difeafe, or imperfeftion. A fmiling countenance is a lovelier object, than one agitated vv^th laughter; partly, no doubt, becaufe the former is lefs disfigiu-cd, and the latter cannot continue long without pain ; but chiefly, becaufe the one difplays the virtues of good-humour and ferenity ; whereas the other is at beft only the fign of merriment, which is no virtue at all, and may happen occafionally to the pccvifh and paffionate, as well as to the goodnatured and chearful. Some of our EngliQi poets call Venus the laughter-loving dame; but Homer with better judgment calls her " the lady who delights in I' fmiles."* Every turn of countenance it is pleafing to behold, which be- tokens good mental qualities. But had the laws of nature relating to the human phyfiognomy been the contrary of what they are, I am inclined to think, that our ideas of beauty would have been fo too. I fliall conclude this fubjedl with two obfervations. — The firft is, ihat human beauty is io far from being (what it is faid in the Scotch proverb to be) only Skin-deep, that it derives its origin, and moft effential charaders, from the foul. Moft people, there- fore, may in fome degree acquire it, who are wiUing to cultivate their intelle6tual powers, and to cherifh good affcdions. And without a found underftanding, and a chearful, benevolent, and gentle difpofitlon, no finenefs of fiiape, delicacy of com.plexion, or regularity of feature, will ever form that genuine beauty, which at once pleafes a difcerning eye, and captivates and fecures an intelli- gent mind. What ideas do we affix to the terms, a pretty idiot, or a handfome termagant? Surely they are not agreeable, but very much * See an ElLy on Laughter. Introdudioii. T the ,38 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. the contrary. " Beauty," accordhig to Pkitarch, " is the flower " and bloflbm of virtue." It is outwardly ornamental ; bscaufe it is the effect of a generous nature operating within. I remark, in the fecond place, that it is not fo indeterminate a thing as many modern philofophcrs imagine. Men may differ in their notions of beauty, as the objetl of lo^oe, or of liking -, and certainly will do fo, as long as they differ in their cuftoms, prejudices, paflions, and capacities. Yet a ffandard of beauty there is, notwithftanding. Elfe why fliould thofe very ftatues be admired as beautiful by us, which were the admiration of the antients ? And why fhould thofe ideas of beauty, which Homer, Virgil, and Ovid defcribe with io much rapture, be fo exattly conformable to our ideas ? Andromache fmiling in tears * would be as interefting an objecf now, as ilic was three thoufand years, ago : and the Venus, and the Lavinia, of the Mantuan poet f , if copied by Reynolds, Vv^ould ffill be the per- feftion of feminine grace, and feminine tendernefs. That this may be the more apparent, let us diftinguiffi between that fort of beauty, which is adapted to the general tallej and thofe forms of it, which gratify the various humours and fancies of individuals. Individual men and v»'omen fi-equently contraft likings in this way, at which their acquaintance wonder : but nobody won- ders, that the Apollo Belvidere, the Antinous, and the Venus of Medici, fliould be regarded with admiration. Juft io, one may prefer the village where one was. born to every other j and yet be fenfible, that in real beauty it falls fliort of a tlvoufarrd others. The taffie may appear fingular to thofe who know not the caufe of the preference : but in being charmed with the * Aaxjvoii' yt^«e■«<^a, Hom, II. VI- 484, f Virg. /Encid. I. 402. XII. 64. fcenery Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 1-59 fcenery of Richmond or Shooters-hill, of Cancwooci or Tay- mouth; of Loch-lomoiid or the lakes of Kefwick, there is nothing fingular or furprifing at all. Des Cartes records his partiality for fquinting perfons, and has very well accounted for it *". And moll other examples of a particular tafte in features, complexion, and fhape, may be explained from fimilar principles. If in other refpefls we be greatly pleafed with any perfon, fuch of his, or of her pecu- liarities, as would appear indifferent, or even ungainly, to others, may become lovely in our eyes, on account of the many agreeable ideas with which in our imagination they may be aflbciated. For fome fuch reafon I fuppofe it was, that Anacreon Ipoke favourably of joined eyebrows ; a circumftance, which has puzzled the criticks ; who forgetting that this poet was a man, and confidering him only as an author, feem to have thought that he would not avow any partialities of his own, which were not warranted by the general tafte of his age. It is no doubt owing to the power of fimilar affociations, that fome men prefer a tall, and fome a fliorter fize ; fome, a plump, and fome, a flender make -, fome a high, and fome a low fore- head } fome one colour of hair, or of eyes, and fome another. And it is but too common for one's tafte to change in thefe and the like particulars ; according as one's affeclion happens to ftiift from one to another objea. That which I underftand by beauty adapted to the general tafte, is to be diftinguiflned from thofe forms that gratify thefe, and the like, particular fancies or partialities. There may in- deed be a coincidence ; as when one is enamoured of a per- fon, whom all the world allow to be beautiful : but often they * See above, page 104. T 2 do I40 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. If. do not cincide; for one may be captivated with quahtles that feem amiable , or admirable to one's felf, but. not fo, or not equally fo, to otliers. Certain forms there are, and attitudes, and motions, of the human body, which give delight to every beholder; and which, though they may not raife that tender affellion which one bears to a favourite, would however be ac- knowledged by all to be v/orthy of admiration. None, I think, will controvert this, who has at any time contemplated a good copy of the Venus, or the Apollo fo often mentioned. All this it is eafy to explain upon the principles of affociation. What is, or appears to be peifeft, in tlie human body, mufl pleafe, as long as bodily perfe61:ion is more ufeful and more ^agreeable, than the want of it. And, while virtue and a good underftanding are held in any efleem among men, every look of the eye, and turn of the countenance, mud give delight, which conveys the idea of acutenefs, good humour, modefly, gentlenefs, affability, generofity, and good nature. But has each individual of mankind the iame ideas of bodily and mental excellence ? And, if not, is it poffiblc, that any forms of human beauty fliould be pleafmg to each individual ? I anfwer, that perceptions may be natural, and opinions right, which are not to be found in- each individual of the human race. To hear, and to fee, are natural ; but fome men have the misfortune to be deaf, and fome to be blind- The beft melodies of Handel are infipid to one who has no mufical ear ; but Handel's beft melodies are charming for all that. Clean- linefs, as it jwomotes both health of body and delicacy of miiid,, is undoubtedly preferable to its oppofite ; and yet the Hottentot- may choofe rather to wallow hke a beaflr, than to live like a. man. Nothing brings fuller conviction, than the demonftrations of Euclid ; yet reafon muft, be cultivated a little, before it can comprehend' Sea. IV. OF IMAGINATION'. 141 compreliend them. Without faculties to perceive a thlnrj, we cannot judge of it at allj and, before we can judge rightly of any thing, the faculties by which we perceive it mufl: be con- liderably improved. J3eauty, like other things, cannot without percipient faculties be perceived ; nor accurately perceived, without improved facul- ties. Till we have feen a variety of human figures, and learned to diflinguiOi by the eye thofe bodily -proportions that are beft adapted to the feveral bodily fundlions, wc cannot be competent judges of the human Jkape :. nor of the human face, unlefs we have feen many faces, compared them together, obferved how the features and the mind operate on each other, traced the con- nedtion between certain appearances in the countenance and certain ftates of the foul and body ; nor, perhaps, unlefs v,e have alfo received from nature, (what all have not) that pe- culiar fort of penetration, which enables one to judge of the thoughts and temper, from the looks and behaviour. As one is lefs or more penetrating, lefs or more obfervant, and' worfe or better informed, in thefe refpefts, one will be lefs or more, what Terence calls, Elegans formarum fpedlator, a nice critick in beauty. And among perfons, who in thefe refpefls are all equally accompliflicd, we may venture to affirm, that in regard to human beauty there will be no material difference ©f opinion. Nor, indeed", in regard to any fort of beauty. Two per- fons equally, and well llcilled in the nature of the horfc, will not differ in their judgment of the beauty of that fort of animal. In every fpecies of vifible things, that are liable to diforder, or capable of improvement, thofe forms will convey. the moft pleafing ideas, and confequently be accounted tiie. mofl beautiful, which, feexn. to be mofl perfedl", or to comet neareffe J42 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. II. neareft perfecllon. But perfe£tion, or the degrees of imperfec- tion, in any individual, can be perceived by thofe only, vvdio underiland the nature of the fpecies to which it belongs; and of many a fpecies the nature cannot be underftood, except by thofe, whom inborn difcernment, and extenfive and accurate ob-fervation, have enabled to ftudy it fuccefsfully. So much for the origin of our ideas of Beauty. In all cafes, it feems pofTible to account for them upon the principles of affociation , except, perhaps, in that fmgle one, of colours giving pleafure, and being called beautiful, merely becaufe they are bright, or becaufe they are delicate. For with bright and deli- cate colours, efpecially the former, children are delighted, long before they know any thing of elegance in fliape, motion, or attitude, or can form any judgment of the ufefulnefs, perfec- tion, or imperfeflion, of things vifible. Yet fo far feems our tafte, even for this fort of beauty, to depend upon aiTociation, that no degree of fplendor, or of foftnefs, will ever reconcile us to any colour, which we know to be the effefl, or the neceffary concomitant, of difagreeable qualities. If this enquiry fliall be thought too long, as an example, let it be confidered as a digreiTion. It is now finifhed; and I return to my fubjecl. Sea. V. OF IMAGINATION. 143 SECT. V. External Ajj'ociations. — Recapitulation, COME people contra6t ftrange habits of, what may be called. External AfTociation. I call it fo; becaufe the body is more concerned in it than the mind, and external things than ideas. They connedl a certain a6lion with a certain objecl lb, that with- out the one they cannot eafily perform the other; although, inde- pendently on habit, there is no connexion between thcni^ I have heard of a clergyman, who could not compofe his fermon, except when he held a foot-rule in his hand j and of one, who, while he was employed in ftudy, would always be rolling between his fingers a parcel of peas, whereof he conflantly kept a trencher full, within reach of his arm. I knew a gentleman who woulcL talk a great deal in company, by the help of a large pin, which. he held between his thumb and fore-finger; but, when he loft his.- pin, his tongue feemed at the fame inftant to lofe its volubility i and he never was at eafe, till he had provided himfelf with another, implement of the fame kind. Locke fpeaks of a young man, who in one particular room where an old trunk ftood could dance, very well ; but in any other room, if it wanted fuch a piece of. furniture, could not dance at all. The Tatler mentions a more probable inftance, of a lawyer, \\\\o in his pleadings ufed always, to be twifting about his finger a piece of packthread, which the. punfters of that time called, with fomc reafon, the thread of his. difcourfe. One day, a client of his. had a mind to fee, how he would acquit himfelf without it 3 and ftole it from him.. The. 6 confcquence 144 OF IMAGINATION. Chap.ll. confequence was, that the orator became filent in the middle of his harangue, and the chent loft his caufe. Such examples may be uncommon ; but many perfons are to be met with, who have contrasted fimilar habits. You may fee a boy, while repeating his catechifm, button and unbutton his coat a dozen times ; and, when learning to write, fcrew his features unknowingly into a variety of forms, as if he meant by the motion of thofe parts to imitate that of his pen. Some men there are, who no fooner bid you good morrow, than they thruft a fnufF-box into your hand; and fome can hardly either fpeak or think, without gnawing their nails, fcratching their head, or fumbling in their pockets. It fliould be our care to guard againft awkward habits, and fuch as make us unneceffarily dependent on tilings and places : and we ought to be very thankful to thofe, who by friendly admonition would reform fuch improprieties in our behaviour. For peculiarities, which wq cannot difcern in ourfelves, may be very glaring, as well as ungraceful, in the eyes of others : and, therefore, if we v^ill not liften to advice on thefe points, we may in time, and without any bad meaning, make ourfelves ridicu- lous. It has been recommended to muficians, and others who have occafion to act, or to fpeak, in publick, to praftife frequently before a looking-glafs ; that they may corre6t evil habits by their own judgment. The rule is not a bad one; but in all ordinary cafes, I would rather truft to the opinion of a judicious friend. For to our own infirmities it is to be feared that we are often partial, and fometimes blind : and the frequent ufe of the mirror has been found, at leaft in the male fex, rather to encourage grimace, than to promote a tafte for elegance. So much for that operation of the human mind, which by modern philofophers has been called the association of ideas. 4 it Sea. V. OF IMAGINATION. 14$ It is commonly referred to the imagination; for which rcafon I have fpoken of it in this place : but, from the examples given, it will appear to be owing in part to habits affecting the memory, and the outward fcnfes. The do£lrine is not peculiar to modern philofophy. Ariftotle, fpeaking of Recolle6lion, or a6live remembrance, infmuates, v/ith his ufual brevity, that the relations, by which we are led from one thought to another, in tracing out, or hunting after (as he calls it) any particular thought which does not immediately occur, are chiefly three, Refemblance, Contrariety^ and Contiguity *. And this enumeration of the affociating principles does not differ, in any thing material, from what is here given. I reduced them to five, Refemblance^ Co?2trariety, Nearncfs of Situation, the relation of Caufe and EffeB, and Cujhm or Habit. Now the three lafl may very well be referred to that one which Ariftotle calls Conti- guity. Nearnefs of Situation is nothing elfe. In its influence a Caufe may be faid to be, becaufe it really is, contiguous to its EffeSl. And two things or ideas cannot be affociated by Cujlom, fo as that the one Ihall introduce tlie other into the mind J unlefs they have, once and again, or once at leaft, been in company together, or thouglit of at the fame time. * The paflage is quoted above. Effay on Memory. Chap. II. u c ri A p. ,^4 OF I M A G I N A T I O N. Chap. III. CHAP. III. Remarks on Genius. BY Memory, we acquire knowledge. By Imagination, we /;;- %^ent ; that is, produce arrangements of ideas and objects that were never {o arranged before. By Imagination, alfo, in certain cafes, we are enabled to judge, becaufe qualified to form diftind ideas of thofe thhigs in na- tui-e, art, and fcience, which exercife our reafon, or call forth our affeclions. For, in conformity with modern language, I afcribed to imagination two diftin6l, though congenial, faculties : " firfl, I *' the power of apprehending or conceiving ideas, fniiply as " they are in themfelves, without any view to their reality : " and fecondly, the power of combining into new forms, or ** affemblages, thofe thoughts, ideas, or notions, wliich we may *' have derived from experience or from information." The talent of invention, applied to ufeful purpofes, is called Genius. Imagination, united with fome other mental powers, and operating merely as a percipient faculty, in conveying fuit- able impreflions of what is elegant, fublime, or beautiful in art and nature, is called Tajh. I mean not to enter, with any degree of minutenefs, into the analyfis of Tafte and Genius. Nor is it necefTary that 1 fliould. That matter has been fully and accurately difcufled by an abler hand ; I mean, by the learned Dr. Gerard : to whofe writings and converfation, (for he was my mailer in philofophy) and to whofe fiiendfhip on many occafions in life, I am Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 147 I am happy in this opportunity of declaring, that I am deeply indebted. The remarks 1 have to offer, on Genius and Tafte (which in a difcourfe on Imagination cannot be entirely overlooked) fhall be brief, and few, and chiefly of a practical nature. To qualify the human mind for invention, that is, for forming new and ufeful arrangements, of things or of ideas, experience, and good fenfe, as well as imagination, are neceffary. In dreams, and in difeafe, imagination often operates with aftonifliing viva- city : but that is not Genius, becaufe it is not regulated by know- ledge or judgment, and tends to no ufeful purpofe *. I mention this, with a view to combat an opinion, as old at leaft: as the age of Hoiace, and not uncommon In modern times ; — that Genius, efpecially poetical genius, is nothing more than a certain warmth of fancy, or enthufiafm of mind, which is all-fufficient in itfelf, and (lands in no need of judgment, or good fenfe, to give it direftion and regularity. Under the influ- ence of this idle conceit, Horace tells us, that fome of the poets of his time fliut themfelves up in cells, avoiding the fcenes of obfervation and bufmefs, and when they fliowed themfelves in publick, affecled a total difregard to the cuftioms of the world : as if ignorance, rufl:icity, and madnefs could qualify them for infl:rucling or entertaining mankind. But Horace teaches a diffe- rent doftrine. He declares Good Senfe to be the fource of all good writing : and recommends it to the inan of genius, to fludy nature, to mingle in focicty, and to make himfelf ac- quainted with the manners and chara6ters of men, and with the various ways in which they exprefs their paffions and fentiments -f-. * Tliis pliiafe muft be taken with Ibme grains of allowance. See ^r: EJfiiy on Driamhig. t Hor. Ar. Poet. 295 — 318. U 2 And 148 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. III. And indeed, if we v/ere to recollefi: particulars, the hiftoiy of literature, as well as the nature of the thing, would bear tefli- raony to the poet's determination. Arts and fciences owe their improvement, and genius its moft illuftrious difplays, not to monks, and hermits, and half-witted enthufiafts, but to fuch men as Homer, Socrates, Xenophon, Sophocles, Demofthenes,- Cicero, Cefar, Bacon, Shakefpeare, Milton, Clarendon, Addilbn, Lyttelton : men, who ftudied life and manners, as well as books ; wlio took part in the bufinefs of fociety ; and gave proof of the foundell judgment, as well as of a moft comprehenfive mind. Two things may be remarked concerning Genius : firft, that it is not a common, but rather a rare accomplifliment ; and fecondly, that it appears in different degrees, and under a great variety of forms. I. It is not a common, but rather a rare endowment. All men are teachable ; but few pofTefs the power of ufeful inven- tion. Such is the will of our Creator. And it is right that it Ihould be fo. Life has oft been likened to a warfare : and civil fociety may in this refpe6l be compared to an armyj that in it there muft be fome to contrive and command, but that far the greater number have nothing to do but to obey. If every man were an inventor and a proje6lor, there would be fuch a mul- tiplicity of livalfhips and jarring interefts, and fuch a fpirit would predominate of independence and of pride, as could not fail to introduce confufion into human affairs ; and many of the lower employments of life, which are effential to the general welfare, would be totally abandoned. For if all men v/ere equal in abilities, they would all afpire to an equality of condition ; a ftate of things, which is proved by the experience of every age to be unattainable ; and of which, if we confider how necelTary Chap. HI. OF IMAGINATION. 149 neccfl;iry fubordi nation is to publlck good, we fliali be fatisfied, that, if it could be attained, it would not be expedient. As Providence has made us diiFer in the form of our bodies ; and fomc are fwift, and others unwieldy, fome weak, and others itrong ; it would leem to be no iefs the intention of Provi- dence, that we fliould differ in the capacity of our minds : for thus we are the better qualified to difciiarge, with pleafurc to ourfelvcs, and with benefit- to the pubhck, the duties belonging to the different profefllons that take place in fociety. 2. Genius appears in various degrees, and in a great variety of forms. As to its degrees : — how vaft the difference between tlie author of the Iliad, and him who compofed the odes that bear the name of Anacreon ! To thofe who invent arts and fciences, or make a difcovery of new truths by inveftigation (for many important truths are difcovered by accident) the highcil honours are undoubtedly due. And yet great genius may be exerted in improving the inventions of another ; or in fetting tiuths that are already known to fome, in fuch convenient lights as may make them known to many. None of Newton's Com- mentators lay claim to an equality of genius with that in- comparable philofopher. But he who explains the Newtonian fyftem fo, as to make it intelligible to oidinary underifandings, will be allowed to poifefs Genius, and to deferve well of man- kind. For this cannot be done, without a talent (which is by no means common) for contriving fuch arguments, and modes of iliulhation, as are mofl likely to be heard with pleafure, and" to convey diftin6t ideas and full conviction. The varieties of human genius are innumerable. One man has a genius in mechanicks, another in architecture j or in painting, mufick, poetry, geometry, medicine, eloquence j and one may make progrefs, and devilc improvements, in one of theie arts, who jjc OF IMAGINATION. Chap. III. who could not in another, or at leaft not without more laborious application. And feme men have appeared, who gave proof of an univeifal genius, and that they were capable of making difcoveries in any art or fcience, to which they thought fit to apply themfelves. Thefe varieties are certainly owing to adequate caufes ; but what thofe are, it may be as difficult to afcertain, as why fome men are tall, and others fliort, fome made for fwift- nefs, and fome for ftrength. Arts there are, and fciences, wherein any man of fenfe, who is willing to be induftrious, may make fuch proficiency as will enable him to perform in them with reputation. And fuch are moft of the necefiary arts. For that which it may be any man's bufinefs to underftand, Providence has kindly placed within the reach of every capacity. We do not often hear of a man, whom want of genius renders unfit for hulbandry, navigation, law, commerce, war, or any of the common employments of life. But to command a fleet, or an army, to prefide in a court of juftice, or lay down rules for improving commerce or agriculture, are offices, which can fall to the lliare of very few, and for which not one, perhaps, in a thoufand is fully qualified, even though he were to receive a fuitable education. Genius is indifpenfable in the fine arts, paiticularly, in archite6lure, painting, and poetry : for thefe, being not neceflaiy to life, but only ornamental, are valued, rather in proportion to the degree of pleafure with which they affedl the beholder, than according to their intrinfick ufeful- nefs : and a good critick is pleafed with thofe poems, pictures, or buildings only, which have more than ordinaiy excellence, and evince more than common abilities in the poet, painter, or archi- tect. Thus reafons, and thus determines Horace, in regard to Poetry. " In fome things, fays he, there is. a mediocrity, which " may be, and ought to be endured. A pleader is held in eflima- 6 ,, tion, Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 151 " tjon, tlioiigli perhaps lefs eloquent than MefTula j and a lawyer. " though not fo learned as Aulus. But mediocrity in poets is n^ " permitted, or pardoned, by gods, by men, or by bookfellers. " For as, at an entertainment, bad mufick, and fweetmeats ill- " feafonal or ill-prepai^ed, are oft'enfive; becaufe an entertain- " ment might veiy well be without them ; fo poetry, which ♦' was invented and made for the exprefs purpofe of giving plea- *• fure, mull, when it falls fliort of excellence, fail to pleaje, and ** come near to be thought contemptible *." This doom has been called fevere ; but will hardly be thought fo, if we fuppofe, that Horace is fpeaking of poetiy, as addrelfed to thofe who are judges of it. To fuch perfons, whatever feems in any degree faulty mufl be in the fame degree unpleafmg : and therefore poetry cannot anfwer its end, if it is not fo far faultlefs, as to give no offence j which will not be the cafe, if it is not thought perfefl in its kind, or fomcthing at leaft above mediocrity. So in the other fine arts. Bad mufick may gratify an unlkilfui ear, and bad painting an inexperienced eyej but he, who is a true crJtick in thefe arts, would rather hear no mufick, and fee no pidures, than be obliged to attend to fuch as he cannot, approve. It has been difputed, whether the fame force of mind, that makes a man ingenious in any one art, would not, with a proper education, make him fo in any other. The difpute, like many others, may be prefumed to have arifen from words not well underflood. If by Ingenioufnefs be meant nothing mort than what is commonly called Capacity, or Docility, we might determine tlie queflion in the afhrmative j in regard to thofe arts, at leail, which are common, or congenial. An expert. joiner might, no doubt, have proved equally expert, as a Ihip- * Hor. Ar. Poet. 368—373.. Wright, ^152 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. III. Wright, blackfmith, or watchmaker, if his education had been anfwerable : and he, who is eloquent as a preacher, might have been no lefs eloquent as a lawyer or fenator. The fame talents may, I believe, be appUed, with the fame fuccefs, to moral and to natural philofophy : and they, who are mafters of an elegant profe-ftile, may, with a competence of the necelTary learning, acquit themfelves creditably in various kinds of profe compo- fition; in philofophy, hiftory, theology, or politicks. Geometry, too, and mechanicks, and afhronomy, are fo nearly allied, and fo level to the human underftanding, that thofe who are capable ■of the one can hardly be fuppofed incapable of the other. To a right comprehenfion of the principles of thefe, and the like arts and fciences, few perfons properly educated, and tolerably indu- ftrious, will be found unequal, if they labour under no intelleflual weaknefs. But, if we take Genius to mean, what is frequently underftood by that term, a bias of the mind towards fome particular arts, joined with fuch powers of invention as make one remarkable, we fhall probably fee caufe to decide the queftion in tlie negative : with a referve, however, in favour of thofe univerfal geniufes, who are faid to have now and then appeared in the world. Homer in Epick poetry, Newton in geometry and philofophy, Livy in hif- tory, Handel in mufick, and Raphael in painting, were extraordi- nary geniufes. But I cannot think, that any of them would have been fo eminent in any other walk of invention, as in that which he made choice of: that Newton, for example, could have rivalled Homer in poetry, or Handel in mufick ; or that Raphael in hiftory could have vied with Livy, or Livy as a painter equalled Raphael. For, how many poets, painters, muficians, philofophers, and hif- torians, and thofe too of con fiderabje ingenuity, have endeavoured to reach the merit of thefe great mafters, and found after all, that 8 they Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. i^-^ they were in purfuit of vvliat they could never attain ! How manv commanders of armies have propofed for their pattern Cefar and Annibal ! And how very few arc to be compared with Annibal or Cefar in mihtary genius ! Orators have been in requeft in all ages : and yet, to this day, Demofthenes and Cicero are at the head of the profefiion. A man of moderate talents may learn to perform with ap- plaufe in feveral arts. To write fmooth veifcs, to diaw a tolerable pi6lure of a human face, to play and even to majic an agreeable tune, to corapoie a hiftory or phiiofopliical dif- courfe that (liall be read with pieafure, requires no more capa- city, than thoufands in every age and nation are podefred of. Eut, to be a great poet, painter, mufician, hiflorian, or philofopher, one muft have not only that capacity which is common to all men of fenfe, but alfo a particular and diflinguifliing Genius, which learning may improve, but cannot beftow. It is no prefumption, to fuppofe, that Heaven fhould endow with extra- ordinary talents thofe who are intended for extraordinary pur- pofes. And therefore, I do not think, that Cicero expreffes himfelf too ftrongly, when he fays, that " without fomething ** of divine infpiration no man was ever great." Genius is not confined to particular profefilons, or to any one rank of life. In the cottage it may be met with, and in the palace ; in the city, and in the hamlet ; in the fl)op of the ■meaneft mechanick, as well as in the moil famous fchools of learning. For, as every art is improveable, Providence has fo ordered human affairs, that in every clafs of artiils a genius may be found, who is capable of making improvements. But let not thofe be difcouraged, who difcern not in themfelves any extraordi- nary abilities. It is not requifite, that every Icaman ftiould be an aflronomer, or tliiit every private foldier fliould underfland the X theory 1^4 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. m. theory of war. Genius and greatnefs are almoft equally expofed to the affaults of envy : both muft encounter mortifications, that are not known to the majority of mankind : and both are liable to the influence of a reftlefs ambition, which is often fatal to happinefs, and not always friendly to one's worldly intereft". Mediocrity of talents, as well as of fortune, feems indeed to be the moft defirable ftate, to thofe who have no other wifh, than to be happy and ufeful : and he who is diligent and fobsr-minded, in any honefl calling, may perform his part with comfort to himfelf, and with advantage to fociety. Nor let the man of genius imagine, that nature has done every thing for him, and that he has nothing to do for himfelf. In one or two inftances, uncultivated genius may have rifen to diftinc- tion : but who will fay, that equal genius, v/ith culture, is not more likely to be diftinguiflied ? We have- heard of Dramatick writers, who, trufting to their natural powers, whereof, it feemsj they had. a higher idea, than any body elfe ever had, thought learning below their ambition, becaufe Shakfpeare was not learned : a conceit, which, far from being a proof of genius, was only an indication of folly, and an apology for idlenefs. Shakfpeare, it is true, had little fchool-learning -, but we muft not thence infer, that he was either ignorant or idle. In obferving the charac- ters of men, and the appearances of the inanimate and irrational world, as well as in the ftudy of his native tongue, of which he was a compleat mafter, he muft have been indefatigable : and he feems to have pofTefled, in a moft uncommon degree, the talent of feleding, from the books that came in his way, fuch knowledge as might be of ufe to him in his poetical capacity. Homer, Plutarch, Pythagoras, Thales, Herodotus, and othei' antients, fpent many years in travelling from place to place, and collecting all the knowledge of the time, for the improvement 4 of aiap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 155 of their genius. Plato, at the age of fouiTcore, did not defifl: from revifing and polifliing the ftyle of his Dialogues ; that ftylc, which had already been poliflied to a degree of perfeiftion, whereof before his time the world had feen no example. Cicero was all his life alTiduous in ftudy : and Cefar, the moft aflonifhing genius that hiftory has recorded, wrote an account of his ov/n wars in the midft of danger and bufinefs, and did not think the hours loft, which he employed on a treatife of Latin grammar. What a vafl: idea fliould we have formed of Livy's indu.'iry, as well as eloquence, if he had compofed no more than the thirty five books now remaining of his Roman hiftory ; which, however, are hardly one fourth of the whole ! — I may add, that Milton v/as one of the molt learned men, as well as the fublimeft genius, of modern times : that Bacon and Newton were profoundly (killed in hiftory and claflical erudition, as well as in every part of philofophy : that Swift for feveral years ftudied at the rate of ten hours a day : and that Addifon, before he left the univerfity, v/as fo great a mafter in antient literature, as to have publi(hed fome of the fineft Latin vcrfes that had appeared in the world fmce the Auguftan age. — But there is no end of the examples, that might be brought, to prove, that the moft famous men of every nation were equally ingenious and induftrious. Great ta- lents, unaided by induftry, evaporate in vain wiflies that produce no effort -, or exhauft themfelves in momentary and uadireLled efforts, that end in difappointment. I will not undertake to trace out the efficient caufes of thofe varieties of genius, which are obfervable among mankind. Genius being the talent of ufeful invention, and invention the work of unagination, it mayfeem to follow, that whatever diverfifies imagi- nation, muft give variety to genius. If the fancy have acquired, by nature or by habit, a tendency to pafs from caufes to effecfs, X 2 and 156 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IIL and from effe6is to caufes, it may be prefumed, that the genius, aided by accurate obfcrvation, will be philofophical. If there be a propenfity to trace out refemblances, and to bring thofe ideas together wliich are like one another, the genius may pofTibly exert itfelf in fome imitative art, as painting, or poetry ; efpecially, if tliere be fuperadded a tafte for the beauties of nature, with great fenfibility of temper, and a contemplative mind : but, in perfons lefs romantic, and much engaged in the bufniefs of fociety, or who have not in early life been accullomed to furvey the grand phenomena of creation, if the fame afTociating principle of re- femblance predominate, it may perhaps give rife to Wit ; which confifts, for the moft part, in the unexpe6led difcovery of fimili- tude between things apparently unlike. A tenacious memory, v/ith a difpofition to alfociate thofe ideas that are related in time aiid place, feems likely to produce a genius for hiftorical narrative. , All this may be faid, and is probable enough ; but not fuf- ficient to folve the difficulty. For ftili it may be afked, Whence comes it, that one imagination fiiould be more, and another lefs, fubjetl: to the influence of any one afTociating principle .? Why fliould Refemblance attraft the chief notice of one mind 3 con- tiguity of place and time, that of another ; and the relation of caufe and effecl, that of a third ? Is this the confequence of habits contra6led in the beginning of life > Then whv have not all children the fame turn of genius, who have had the fame educa- tion ? — Or is it merely conltitutional ? In facl, I believe, it is owing partly to conftitution, and partly to habit : but that thefe two caufes are fo blended in forming and varying human genius, that one can hardly fay, in any particular cafe, how far the one, or the other, may have been predomi- nant. In the moft difcouragingcircumftances we have ittn genius unexpededly Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 157 unexpe61:edly arife; and a peculiar turn of temper, and of capa- city prevail, in oppofition to all the power both of precept and ©f example. The palTions, no doubt, liave fome influence in forming the genius. You cannot expedt to find the fame talents in a chearful and a melancholy man ; in an arrogant and an humble fpirit ; in one who loves retirement-, and in one who is fond of the buftle and glitter of publick life. Wit and humour, when united, as in Swift, with mifanthropy, pride and indignation, will vent itfelf in fuch virulent ridicule, as makes men defpife and hate one an- other : but, if accompanied with mildnefs and benevolence, may give rife to that good-natured jocularity, which we admire in Addifon, and which fweetens the temper, while it enhvens the fancy. Habits contraded in our younger years mrry alfo give a bias to the inventive powers. When children are much in the com- pany of feamen, of foldiers, of mechanicks, we fee them acquire habits of attending, with more than ordinaiy pleafure, to the con- verfation of fuch people. Hence they come to underftand fome- thing of naval affairs, military tranfaftions, mechanical curiofities^ to be interefted in them, and take a liking to them : and this liking, if ftrong, and accompanied with good parts, will no doubt go a great way in forming a peculiarity of genius. Thofe who relifh harmony of language, and read the works of poets, efpeci- ally of good poets, very early in life, acquire in time a poetical tafte, which, if other circumilances be favourable, will produce fomething like a genius for poetry. Among contemporary poets, we may fometimcs obfcrve a fimi- larity of genius; which is probably occafioned by their imitating one another. When Donne and Cowley had introduced, about the middle of the laft century, a tafte for .irregular meafures of 8 verfe. 15S OF IMAGINATION. Chap.IIL verfe, and foi' interlarding every fpecies of poem with childifli witticifm, Sprat, and Otway, and many others, fell into the fafhion ; and one would almoft think that the fame fpirit had ani- mated them all. But it feems to me, that they are minds of an inferiour order, which are thus formed, or enflaved, by early habits -, true, original, and diftinguifliing genius behig the gift of nature, though im- provable by good education, and liable to be in fome degree per- verted by bad. At the time when Cowley had infected the whole nation with witticifm, Milton arofe ; and gave his country a fpeci- msn of the trueft, and moft fubiime poetry : in framing which he was dire£led, partly by his exquifite tafte in antient learning, but chiefly by his own incomparable genius. Yet Milton himfeif, though not enflaved, was fwayed a little, by the prejudices of his age, and the habits of his early youth. And I obferve, that the fafliion of the time is hy all criticks admitted as an apology for an Author's more trivial faults : whence we may infer, that, in the general opinion of mankind, the mofl: elevated minds cannot wholly refifl: the force of example, and that the bent of the genius is jiartly determined by outward circumilances.. The vciy learned writer of an Inquiry into the life and writings of Homer has proved, or at leaft made it highly probable, that the great father of poetry himfeif was in fome degree indebted, for the tranfcendency of his genius, to the manners of his age, and to the political and military efliablifliments wherewith it was his fortune to be acquainted. When I faid, that thofe are gcniufes of an Inferiour order, which are formed or endaved by early habits, I did not mean to inflnuate, that no great genius ever became an imitator. Virgil imitates many poets, and particularly Homer, from whom he has borrowe.l the j)lan, and many of the fentiments, images, and phrafes, of tlie lineid : Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 159 Eneid : but Virgil's (lylc, and manner, and the numbers of liis verfe, are altogether his own j and are characlcrii'ed by a peculiar dignity, correiStnefs, and delicacy, not to be met with in Homer, nor indeed in any other poet. Taflb imitates Homer in his plan, . and Virgil in his flyle. Pope imitates Boileau and Drydcn : but his own genius is apparent in every part of his works i he has more fire, and fancy, than the French author ; and he 's m.,.e fubhme, and more uniformly harmonious, than liis Engiilu ma- tter .—In fa6l all good poets imitate one another more or lefs : and I am not fure, whether Homer himfelf has not in fome things con- defcended to imitate Hefiod *. But in the writings of a great genius, even when he imitates, nay when he is only a tranllator, there is always fomething peculiar and extraordinary, * Homer is generally fuppofed to have been before Hefiod. I incline to a diffe- rent opinion, but am not pofitive in it. For in the latter I think I find not only tlie poetic?.! art, but even the Greek tongue, lefs cultivated, than in the former. And if Hefiod had known Homer, I prefume he would have mentioned hitn and been fomewhat more particular in what he fays of the Trojan war. His plan would not have hindered it; whereas Homer's could hardly admit tlie mention of Hefiod. The Afcrean bard laments his liaving had the misfortune to live in tlie fifth age of the world ; wiihing, that he had died in an earlier, or been refervcd to a later period : now tliis fifth age, according to his own account, immediately followed thofe heroick times, in which happened the war of Thebes and of Troy : fo that Homer, if he had flouriflied (as Cicero and Dr. Clarke conjecture he did) many ages before Hefiod, muft have been born before the- Trojan war j whicli is altogether incredible. Dr. Clarke's ingenious argument, drawn from the profody of the Greek word >:aXt.t ; the firft fyllablc of which, he obferves, that Homer uni- formly pronounces -long, while Hefiod and the latter poets have it fometimes ioii^, and fometimes fliort : — this argument, 1 fay, does not fcem very matciial; fuch changes of pronunciation being coinmon in all languages. Herodotus and Vario make thefe venerable bnrds contemporaries. There feems indeed to have been no great interval of time between thein. And it is evident, from tiie general colour of their ftyle, either that the one imitates tlie other, or tliat both iiave imitated fome poet more antient than cither. See Hefiod. Opera et Dies. verf. 172. — Cicero de Senedute. cap. 15. — Clark. Annot. ad Horn. Iliad. Lib, 2, verf. 43, But. 36o OF IMAGINATION. Chap. III. But, however we may he puzzled in refolving the varieties of human genius into their proximate caufes, we can be at no lofs to comprehend their final caufe, or the intention of Providence in eftablidiing them. By thefe diverfities of capacity and chara6ler, men are led to different employments j which not only prevent oppofitions of intereft ; but alfo fupply a profufion of conveni- encies ; adorn human life with an endlefs variety of arts ; and en- large the fphere of fociai virtue, by opening fources innumerable of friendly communication between the various individuals and nations that compofe the great fociety of mankind. When, together with the multitude of arts that fupport life, we confider the tribes of aitifts by whom they are cultivated, and that in the choice of a profeffion many are determined by their own free-will ; we mud be filled with admiration, at the com- plexnefs of human fociety, and the pliablenefs of the human mind, as well as at the wifdom of the Creator, in thus providing a genius for every art, and a gratification for every natural defire. How many artifls are employed in furnifhing what is neceffary to the compofition of that common article, Ei'ead 1 The baker mufl purchafe his flour from the miller, and his yeft from the brewetj and neither flour nor yeft can be had without agriculture. The hufbandman depends, for the implements of his trade, on thofe who make for hnii the plough, the harrow, the fickle, the fcythe, and the waggon ; and thefe cannot be made without iron and wood. In many places, where they are neceffary, wood and iron cannot be had, without the care of the merchant, and the la- bours of the mariner. Mariners traverfe the ocean in fliipsj and neither can they guide their veffel, nor the merchant condu61; his commerce, without that fort of knowledge, to which ink and paper are neceflary. The manufacture of paper reminds us of him, who weaves the cloth whereof it is made ; of the fpinner, who Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 161 who draws and tvvifts the threads for the weaver ; of tlic labourer, , wlio prejjarcs the flax for the fpinning-wliccl ; and of the tiller of the ground, who fows the flax, and gathers, and cures it. Few or none of thcfe people can work without tools of iron : and that moft ufeful metal, before it can be forged into infliruments, niurt: pafs fuccelFively through the hands of the miner, the fmelter, and the fmith. To all this we may add, that no artificer can live with- out a houfe, and food, and cloaths, and other conveniencies, whicli are fupplied by the indufl:ry of the flioemakcr, taylor, tallow-chand- ler, joiner, currier, houfe-carpenter, Hater, fl:one-cutter, brick- layer, glazier, mafon, and archite6l. From this one example, thus flightly profecuted, we may form an idea of the mutual fubfervicncy of man to man, and of one art to another. And hence let us learn to fet a proper value on indufl:ry and manufa6lure. The meanefl: artificer in fociety, if honefl: and diligent, is worthy of honour : not only, as he fupports himfelf and his dependents without any charge to the publick, and thus gives the means of life and of comfort to feveral human crea- tures J but alfo, becaufe he adds to the fund of national v/ealth and fplendour, and is inft:rumental in providing neceffaries to all, and convenience and ornament to thofe of higher condition. To purfue this fpeculation a little further. Of the multitude of trades efl:abliflied in fociety, how few are there, which ive would choofe to make the bufmcfs of our lives! how many, which we fiiould think it a mifery to be compelled to follow ! Nay, fome there are no doubt, which we may think it fl:range, that any hu- man being could ever be tempted to engage in. Yet we do not find, that any ufeful art periflies ; or that artifl:s of any denomina- tion are wanting, while there is a chance, that they fliall meet with encouragement. This at leaft is not often the cafe, where regular fociety has been of long flianding. Y And i6z OF IMAGINATION. Chap. iTt And 13 not this a proof of three things .? Firft, that a wife and good Providence governs the woild ? Secondly, that human genius is fufceptible of boundlefs variety ? And thirdly, that happinefs is not confined to, nor excluded from, any flation .''—For is it not Providence, that gives this pliablenefs to human nature ? And, if it were not for this, would fociety be fo happy, or arts fo floiiriflnng ? And if happinefs were not to be found even in the loweft ranks of life, would men ever make choice of thofe callings, that oblige them to pafs their days in a mean condition, and in narrow circumfVances ? I grant, that many are forced into a way of life, which they do not reliili. But every trade can boaft of volunteers. And, in ordinary cafes, both the one and the other are found to live not uncomfortably. The imprefled feaman becomes in a little time as brave and as chearful as any of his companions. And the labourer, who lives and dies in the hamlet where he was born, and never had the means of changing his condition for a better, often enjoys a degree of health and happinefs, whereof the rich and the great have no experience, and could not eafily form an-idea. There is hardly any occupation, in this free country at leafb, that to us appears more forlorn, than that of thofe who, in the hyper- bolical language of the poet. Deep plunged in mines, forget a fun was made. And yet I have been affured, by a man of humanity and obferva-- tion, the fuperintendant of an Englifli colliery, that his people would rather work in their pits, three hundred feet under ground, than labour in a field of hay in the fineft fundiine. — To us, who are educated with high notions of liberty, it may feem wonderful, that men could live at all, or with any degree of comfort, under a defpo- tical fovereign. And yet the fubjefts of defpotifm are not always miferable. In Ruflia, as well as in more moderate governments, you may meet with merry peafants, chearful aflemblies, and happy families. So great is the power of habit, . and fo various the incli- nations Chap. III. OF IMAGINATION. 163 nations of the human mind, that honefty and humble induftiy, v/ith contentment, may enjoy the means both of peace, and of plcafure, under any form of government. What ! it may be ahfvvered, Are all forms of policy, and all human occupations, equally friendly to happinefs ? Then, why contend for liberty ? Or why complain, when by the feverity of pa- rents and guardians, or by the lownefs of our fortune, we are com- pelled to engage for life in a difagreeable employment ? I admit not the inference. I fpeak of the goodnefs of God, in giving that verfatility to man's nature, which makes it fufceptible of comfort in every ffcate in which it can learn to be content. And wretched indeed would our condition be, if our felicity depended more upon outward circumftances, than upon the frame of the mind : for, in that cafe, good and evil would be no more in our power, than riches and high flation are now; and the miferable would as far exxeed the happy in number, as the common people do their rulers. But far be it from me to infinuate, that all governments are equally good ; or that there is no material dillinftion between com- petence and want, moderate and exceflive labour, a healthy and an unhealthy, or a creditable and a mean employment. The human body may live, and enjoy health, in the polar circle and torrid zone, as well as in the temperate climates ; yet who, on equal terms, would not prefer the laft ? In adverfity, and in ficknefs, the mind of a good man may be happy : yet, who will fay, that health and profperity are not defireable ; or that to crave protection againft the oppreflbr, or to refill, even unto blood, the affaffin who would maim our bodies, is not worth our while ? Self-prefervation, the avoidance of pain, a defire to rile from lower to higher degrees of happinefs, to gain the efteem of thofe with whom we live, and to promote our worldly intereft, where it can be done by innocent means, are principles of adion, to which nature has given all men Y 2 an i64 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. III. an unqueftlonable right ; and which, as they are fprings of virtue and pubUck fpirit, muft be allowed to be produftive of the beft confequences. Nothing is more friendly to the foul of man, than Liberty ; which is the birthright of every rational being, and which none can v^-ith- out cruelty deprive us of, unlefs by our crimes we have proved ourfelves unworthy of it. Defpotick governments are therefore unjuft, as far as they deprive the innocent of this prime blefling: and it never can be for the good of mankind, that injuftice fhould triumph, or that innocence fliould be born down. Befides, adlivity and genius flourifli in free governments, but in the abodes of tyranny difappear : and however it may fare with fome individuals, fociety will always decay or profper, as genius and induftry are dif- countenanced or promoted. Freedom of choice in regard to an employment is a part of man's natural liberty, which parents and guardians ought not to violate. For though it may be poflible to be happy in any ftatc, it is alfo poflible, that, by having an employment forced upon us, we may be made miferable for life. And much it is to be regretted, that in this country it fliould at any time be necelTary to compel feamen into the fervice of the publick ; and that, from lownefs of circum- ftances, a man of fpirit fliould ever be left to languifli in obfcurity, without any hope of emerging into that tract of bufmefs, for which his genius qualifies him, and to which he naturally afpires. But this laft is only one of thofe many evils, which, in order to raife our views to a better life. Providence has annexed to the prefent ftate of imperfe6\ion j and a remedy may be faid to be in fome meafure provided for it, in the natural pliablenefs of the human mind. And the other evil is a confcquence, unavoidable as many think, of our living under a free government, in the neighbour- hood of an ambitious and powerful enemy, and depending on our naval power for the prefcrvation of our liberties. Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 165 c ri A p. IV, of Taftc, and Its Im])rovcment. COME ideas are too complex, to admit of logical definition. When this is the cafe, we muft have recourfe to defcription ; and give a detail of the more important, if we flioukl not be able to afcertain the effential qualities. And, if we can illuftrate a fubje6f , I believe it is not material, whether that be done by definition and fyllogifm, or by any other method equally brief, convincing, and intelligible. It was faid, that " Imagination, imited with fome other mental " powers, and operating as a percipient faculty, in conveying " fuitable impreffions of v/hat is elegant, fublime, or beautiful, " in art or nature, is called Taste." This account may be right as far as it goes ; but is not fufficiently comprehenfive. By point- ing out its defeats, we make amends for them. They may be re- duced to two. Firft ; Sublimity, Beauty, and Elegance, are not the only things in art and nature, which gratify Tafte. There is alfo a tafte in imitation, in harmony, and in ridicule. He who takes delight in truth, in virtue, in fmiplicity, may be faid to have a tafte for it. And, not to be charmed with fuch qualities ; or to approve their oppofites ; to be infenfible of haimony ; to relifh grofs buffoonery ; to prefer bad piftures to good, and finical ornament to manly fim- plicity, are proofs of bad tafte 3 asdifregard to truth, and indifference to virtue, arc, of both a bad tafte, and a bad heart. ; Secondly ; As Elegance, SubUmity, Beauty, and the other qua- lities here mentioned as objefts of tafte, are all good and agree- able 3 j66 of imagination. Chap. IV. able i we might, by trufting to the definition, be led to fuppofe, that Tafte, being an inlet to pleafuie only, is not connefted with painful emotions. But, in the works of human art, it is the office of Tafte, to difcern, not only what is excellent, but alfo what is faulty ; and to be delighted with the one, and diilatisfied with the other, according as that approaches to perfe6lion , and this deviates from it. To read Blackmore and Milton with the fame relifh, or the fame indifference ; or, while we admire the latter, not to be difgufted with the former, would be a fign of bad tafte, or of total infenfibility. A goodnatured critick may confine his remarks to the beauties of his author; but, if he have true difcernment, it is impofiible for him not to perceive, and be offended with, the blemifhes. Since, then, that fort of mental fagacity, which we call Tafle, is too complex to be chara6lerized in a fliort definition ; I proceed to enumerate thofe faculties or talents, which muft be united in the perfon who poITefTes it. To be a perfon of tafte, it feems necefTary, that one have, firft, a lively and corre6l imagination ; fecondly, the power of diftinft apprehenfion ; thirdly, the capacity of being eafily, ftrongly, and agreeably affe6ted, with fublimity, beauty, harmony, exact imita- tion, &c.; fourthly, Sympathy, or Senfibility of heart; and, fifthly. Judgment, or Good Senfe, which is the principal thing, and may not very improperly be faid to comprehend all the reft. I. Good tafte implies Lively Imagination. This talent qualifies one, for readily underftanding an author's purpofe; tracing the connection of his thoughts ; forming the fame views of things which he had formed ; and clearly conceiving the feveral images or ideas that the artift defcribes or delineates. In this refpeft, the minds of different men are differently con- ilituted. Some can enter into a defcription of what they have feen, or Chap. IV^. OF IMAGINATION. 167 or of what is familiar; and follow an author's train of thought, when lie lays down a plan, and proceeds accordingly : but are not able to comprehend fuch thoughts or images as are uncommon ; or to mark thofe delicacies of conne6lion, which give furprife, or which imitate the defuitory operations of cnthufiafm, or any other ardent paflion. Yet thefe delicate tranfitions are among the chief beauties of poetry. The philofopher lays down a plan, and follows it ; his bufinefs being only, to inn:ru6l. But the orator fometimes, and the poet frequently, conceals his plan, and makes you expefh fomething different from what he intends -, becaufe his aim is, to pleafe, by working upon your paflions, and fancy : which is never more effe£lually done, than when he exhibits vv^hat is at once natural and furprifing. — In the end of Virgil's fecond Georgick, the praifes of a country life are, by the poet's management, clofely conne6ted with the former part of the book, which treats of trees and vines : but the connexion is not obvious to every eye ; and they, who do not fee it, blame the author for his want of method. The fame delicate contrivance appears in the end of the fijft Georgick : where, from the precepts of agriculture, he makes a nice though natural tranfition to the prodigies that attended the death of Julius Cefar, and thence to the calamities of civil warj after which, he refumcs with equal art the fnbje(5l of agriculture, and fo concludes the book. The language of enthufiaHn, and of all thofe pafilons that ftrongly agitate the foul, is naturally incoherent ; and may appear even extravagant to thofe, who cannot enter into the views of the fpeaker, or form an idea of what is palling in his mind. Hence, in the odes of Pindai*, and in fome of the odes of Gray, which imitate the language of enthufiafm, many readers complain, that they are often at a lofs to difcover conneifion between the conti- guous fcntiments -, while others, not more learned perhaps, find 7 no 36S OF IMAGINATION. Chap.lV, no difficulty in conceiving the progrefs of ideas, that lead thefe authors from one thought or image to another. The latter, furely, are the only perfons qualified to judge of tliofe odes : and this qualification they feem to derive from their fuperiour livelinefs of fancy. In a word, the imagination of a critick muft, in refpe<5t of vivacity, be able to keep pace with that of the authors, whom he afliimes the privilege of judging, or wiflies to read with the true relifli. Their powers of invention it is not neceflary that he pofTefs : but, in readily apprehending or imagining every thing they are pleafed to fet before him he cannot be in any degree infe- riour, without being in the fame degree an incompetent judge. If we are unable to conceive a poet's imagery, or enter into his fentiments, we underftand him as little, as if we were ignorant of his language. The greateft livelinefs of imagination will, however, avail but little, it it is not corredled and regulated by the knowledge of na- ture, both external or material, and internal or moral. Without this, there cannot be Tafte ; becaufe one cannot difcern, whether the produ(5lions of art be natural or unnatural ; that is, whether they be good or bad. In acquiring that knowledge of nature, which is neceflary to tafte, a man needs not defcend to the mi?iutice of natural hiftory ; but he muft contemplate all the ftriking ap- pearances of the world around him, furveying them in thofe pic- turefque attitudes, in which they moft powerfully captivate the mind, and awaken the pafiions. As means of promoting in young perfons a tafte for the beauties of external nature, I have in another place * recommended fre- quent pcrufals of the beft defcriptive poets, particularly Virgil, .Spenfer, and Thomfon -, together with fome practice in drawing. * EfTay on Poetry and Mufick, Part i. chap. z. 9 1 may Chap. IV. OF I M A G I N y\ T I O N. 169 I miy nov/ add, that Homer, Milton, and Shakefpcare will improve that tafte, and at the fame time make them acquainted with Moral nature, that is, with human palllons and characters ; which however, as Horace intimates *, cannot be thoroughly un- t derftood, but by careful obfervation of men and manners, as they appear in the ailive fcenes of real life. Livelinefs of imagination, though a natural gift, is not unfuf- ceptible of improvement. By ftiidying the works of nature and art ; by travelling into foreign countries, and converfing with people of different profeffions, capacities, and manners; by ex- ploring new fcenes of the inanimate world, mountains, vallics, and plains, whether dillinguiflied by their wildnefs or regularity, by their beauty or grandeur; the memory may be ftored with new ideas, which, if properly arranged and afcertained, will give vigour to all the mental powers, and to imagination among the reft. Milton is faid to have quickened his fancy, by reading the. old romances. And Leonardo da Vinci recommends it to the painter, to go into decayed buildings, and obferve the ftains on the broken and mouldy walls ; where an eye accuftomed to look at fuch things will frequently difcern figures refembling clouds, battles, uncom- mon attitudes, draperies, ludicrous faces, and the like : agreeably to which idea, a pamphlet has been publiflied -f, to fhow, how, from a few random ftrokes of a pencil dipped in Indian ink, hints may be obtained for the invention of landfcapes. Every thing, indeed, that puts us in the way of meeting with novelties, may be confidered as a help to the fancy : but care muft be taken to metho- dife thofe new ideas, left they feduce from the love of nature, and give a tafte for extravagant combinations. Livelinefs and correcl- * Ar. Poet. verf. 317. f An EfTay to facilitate the inventing of Landfcapes. London J 759. Z nefs 17© OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV,. nefe of imagination are eminently and equally conrpicuous in Ho- mer : Spenfer and Ariofto are not inferiour in the firft qviality, but extremely defedive in the fecond. II. Sometimes, when one's imagination is lively, and regulated too by an acquaintance with nature, one may, notwithftanding, contrail habits of indolence and irregularity in one's ftudies ; which produce a fuperficial medley of knowledge very detrimental to the native vigour of the mind. And therefore i mentioned Diftinfl Apprehenfion, as the fecond thing neeeffary to good tafte. There are men, who think with preeifion on every fubje6l: and thei'e are others, whofe ideas are always inaccurate and obfcur'e. The foimer make you imderftand their meaning at once, and may be known by their clearnefs of method and of ftyle: the latter ufe indefinita and fuperfluous words, confiifedly put together} which, though, on famlUar topicks, they may give a tolerable idea of what is intended, will often leave you at a lofs, and perhaps, when any thing uncommon is to be exprelTed, make it impoffible for you to find out what is in the mind of the fpeaker,. The former, it is obvious, are the only competent j udges of what they read j becaufe they are the only perfons who perfe6lly under- fland it. How comes it, that, on every perufal of Homer, Virgil; or Milton, beauties are difcovered, which never ftruck us before? Is it not, becaufe, the more we are acquainted with thefe authors, we underftand them the better .? Elegant writing is diftinguiftied by a thoufand little graces, that efcape the fuperficial reader, and are not immediately apparent even to the attentive. And therc'- fore, habits of accurate fludy are indifpenfably requifite to form a; true critick. Bcfides, moft performances in the fine arts are intended to raife,, in the reader or beholder, certain emotions and fympathies. Andi it is generally true, that an emotion is lively in proportion to the clearnefs; Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. r7i clearnefs wherewith its object is perceived or apprchcnclal by the mind. A man of obfcure apprehenfion niuft, therefore, be a man of dull feeling, and fo cannot poflefs true tailc; becaufe he h not fufceptible of thofe ardent emotions, which the artifl: intended to raife, and which in founder minds his work docs adually raife. It is remarkable, that in every language the moft elegant au- thors are the moft pcrfpicuous. Such are Homer and Xcnophon in Greek, and Cefar^ Cicero, and Virgil, in Latin. A proof, tliat good tafte and clearnefs of apprehenfion are infeparable : this laft quality being the immediate caufc of p'erfpicuity in writing. For attaining the faculty of diftinCl apprehenfion, the beft rule that can be given is, to ftudy with accuracy, and with method, every thing we apply to, whether books, or bufinefs. — But having already enlarged on this topick, I fliall not now purfue it any further. III. A board may be fo fliaped and painted, as that a dog fliall miftake it for a man j but it does not appear, that he has any plcafurc in it, as an mitaiion. Brutes no doubt perceive fomc of thofe things which we term ludicrous ; but brutes never lauo^h, nor feem to have any notion of incongruity. All animals that fee difcern light, and probably colours; but man aloi>e perceives, in colours and in figures, that pleafurable quality, wliich we term beauty. The wagnijicence of the ftarry firmament, of a lofiy and craggy mountain, of a thundering catarad, of a tempeftuous ocean, has no charms for. any terrcftrial creature, but man. Novelty yields pleafure to rational minds ; but the inferlour tj ibes feem rather to diflike it. Many brutes hear more acutely than we ; and fome of them may be foothed or alarmed by found ; but brutes liave no fenfe of harmony: nay of thofe men, wlio hear with equal acutenefs, fome have a mufical ear, and others have not. In thefe and the like cafes, there feems to be in the human mind a fort of double fenlation : one conveyed immediately by the exter- Z 2 nal 172 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. nnl organ ; and the other depending, partly on that, and partly on ibme other faculty. That there is in our conftitution fuch a thing as a mufical ear, a (enfe of beauty, a tafte for fublimity and imitation, a love of novelty, and a tendency to fmiles and laughter, will not be de- nied. And that thefe fenfes, or fenfibilities, depend partly on the eye and the ear, and yet are to be diftinguifhed from the outward ienfes of fight and hearing, (for thefe may exifl without the others) is evident from what has been faid. They may therefore be called Secondary Senjcs. Some philofophers call them Rejiex, and fome Internal. And the pleafures derived from them are termed, by Addifon, and Akenfide, Pleafures of Imagination*. Others have named them Emotions, as if they were a fort of weaker paflions. And the name is not improper. For all pafiions are attended with pleafure or pain, and produce fenfible ap- pearances both in the foul and in the body. And the feelings I fpeak of are all of the agreeable kind ; and, where they opeiate without reftraint, do all difplay themfelves externally. The con- templation of beauty, for example, foftens the features into a fmile. Sublimity raifes admiration and aftonifhment, and novelty often gives furprife ; and thefe paffions operate very fenfibly on the coun- tenance. Ludicrous objects call forth laughter, which is rtill more obvious to the eye, as well as to the ear. And the various plea- fures that refult from imitation do varioufly affe6l the face ; accord- ing to the nature of the object imitated, and the fkill difplayed by the imitator. But the name we aflign to thefe modes of perception is not a matter of great moment. When I call them Secondary Senfes, I ' « See Huchefon's Moral Philofophy; Gerard's Efay on Tajle; the fixth volume of the Spdilator; Akenfide's Pleafures of Imagination ; and Lord Karnes's Elements ofCri- tinfm. would Chap. IV^. OF IMAGINATION. 173. would not be underflood to find fault with the language of thofc authors, who in Ipeaking of them have adopted a different phra- feology. Now the third thing neceflaiy to good tafte is, Acutenefs of (what is here called) Secondary Senfation ; or, to exprefs it in. other words, " a capacity of being eafily, ftrongly, and agreeably '* afFefted, with fublimity, beauty, harmony, exaft imitation," &c. In this refpe6l alfo the capacities of different men are very different. Some have no fenfe of harmony or modulation, either in language, or in mufick. Some, who are exceedingly delighted with the Sub- lime and the Beautiful, have little tafte or genius in the way of Ridicule : — Milton is an inftance ; who excels in grand and elegant defcription, but whofe attempts at humour are nothing but quibble. Others have an exquifite relifli for every fort of ludicrous combi- nation, who feem to be little affefted with beauty, or with great- nefs : — Swift is one inflance, and the author of Hudibras another. To excel equally in the Sublime and in the Ludicrous, is a rare talent : Shakefpeare, however, pofleired it in a very high degree ; and Pope, in a lower: Homer, too, is faid to have been eminent in the comick, as well as in the folemn ftyle ; though that does not appear from any part of his works now extant. Some authors, of whom Homer is the moft illuftrious, give no delineations of moral or of material nature, but what bear an exa6l refemblance to reality > others, like Ariollo, abound in extravagant and uiinatural fiction : the former, furely, have a better tafte in imitation, as well as a better judgment, than the latter. The fenfe of harmony aflumes various appearances. Pope, for all the fmoothnefs of his numbers, had no mufical ear ; Milton, though his poetry is mofl harmo- nious, writes rugged profe : and Addifon, whofe profe is the fweet- eft that can be, is not diflinguiflied as a melodious verliiier. Some T.74 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. Some of thefe varieties may be accounted for, from the power of habit. Of thofe, who have from nature a mufical ear, many perhaps may never have thought of improving that talent, and many have never had the means of improving it : and we feldom acquire any true rehfh for mufick, unlefs we have been accuftomed to it in our younger years. Befides, that fweetnefs of found in profe, which is called harmony, is very different from mufical har- mony or melody : eafy articulation belongs to the former ; for we never call thofe words harmonious, which we find it hard to pro- nounce » but the latter has nothing to do with articulation: and therefore, one may have a tafte for the one, who has none for the other. Nor is it to be wondered at, that a harmonious verfifier fhould write in profe without harmony ; for this may be the effect of hafte or carelefnefs, or want of pradlice. Further; the more we are accuftomed, from our early years, to attend to what is great and beautiful ; to read fublime poetry, er to aflbciate with perfons of a foleran deportment, the lefs we fliall be inclined to give way to the levities of wit and humour. And from him, who is better pleafed with the v/ildnefs of romance, than with the fimplicity of nature and the antients, a tafte for correct imitation is not to be expected. Thefe various habits may be owing to various caufes, .too minute to be fpeclfied. Our way of life, our courfe of iludy, the company we keep, the tafte of the age or of the fociety to which we belong, have great influence in perverting or improving all our intelleftual faculties, and thofe of tafte and genius in particular. I here join tafte and genius together. They are kindred powers; and of fo near affinity, that the fiift, perhaps, might be called paj]ive genius, and the fecond active tajlc. The human mind is always the fame : but in one age one fet of facuJtics aie cultivated, and another in another ; and the purfuits 4 of Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 175 of men, the ftates of literature, the modes of tafte, and the cha- ra6ters of nations, are varied accordingly. About the middle of the laft century, the greater part of Englifli authors were learned and ferious, but not very attentive to- elegant expreffion. Under Charles the fecond, they ran into the oppofite extreme, and became giddy, fuperficial, and indelicate ; and none but wits and epigram- matills were accounted men of tafle : fo that, if the revolution had not taken place, our literature would probably have perifhcd, as w^cU as our laws and liberties. In the reign of Queen Anne, and George the firfb, wit, learning, and elegance, were happily united. Of late the publick tafte feems to have been mofl effec- tually gratified by correift expreflion, and hiftorical and philofo- phical incjuiry. But whatever influence habit may have in forming the tafle and the genius, it muH: be repeated, that in minds, as well as in bodies, there are conftitutional differences. There are men, who can never bring themfelves to relifh mufick ; and fome are equally difinclined to poetry. And of poets and muficians, as well as of painters^ fome excel in the grand flyle, and fome in the ludicrous ; nor will '^ - either clafs of artifi:s admit, that the other is qualified to prcfcribe rules for both. And therefore, we are not to expe61:, that in difie- rent men tafte fhould be precifely uniform, or that it fliould be ablblutely perfe6t in any individual. Any one of thefe Secondary fenfes will form a fort of tafte ; but to the perfeclion of this talent the concurrence of them all is neceffary. In a man thus accomplifiicd, every obje6t of his cour templation, whether fit to allure by its novelty,, aftonifii by i'-c grandeur, charm by its beauty, pleafe by imitative elegance, cr amufe by unexpefted incongruity, will awaken that kind, and ^ that degree, of internal fatisfadlion, which the moft enlightened part of mankind would acknowlege to be adequate to the plea- furable ,^6 - OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. forable qualities of the objeft. But fuch perfeclion of tafte i s imaginary : as there is not on earth a perfon, who is not a greater admirer, a more accurate obferver, and of courfe a more com- petent judge, of fome objects of tafte, than of others. Rarely have we heard of one man completely ikilled in mufick, painting, and poetrv, or even in any two of thofe arts. The epick poet undervalues the epigrammatift, who in his turn pronounces all fublime writing to be affefted or infipid ; the architeft is per- haps indifferent to both ; and the compofer of inftrumental fym- phonies to all the three. There may be exceptions : but it is in general true, that One fcience only will one genius fit. So vaft is art, fo narrow human wit; Not only bounded to peculiar arts. But oft in thofe confin'd to fingle parts. It is eafy to know, how far an author's tafte may be deficient in this refpect. If, while he aims at elevation, he difappoint the reader by mean language, or groveling ideas, (which is generally the cafe with Blackmore) it is a fign, that he has no tafte in Sublimity. If he appear fond of defcribing what is unamiable or ungraceful, and difguft you with vile allufions and filthy images, (which is too often the cafe with Swift and Juvenal) he gives proof of an indelicate mind, that either has no fenfe or love of beauty, or, which is worfe, does not choofe to indulge it. If his views of nature be indefinite or inaccurate ; if they be overcharged with unneceflary ornaments, or feem to be drawn not from his own obfervation, but from the works of other men, (which are faults common to all bad poets and bad painters) it is evident, that he has no diftiniSl knowlege of nature, or, at leaft, that he has no ta- lent or tafte in imitation. If the found of his vcrfcs offend, as in 8 Donne Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 177 Donne and Hobb^s, by its harflincfB; or, as in Waller and Lanf- downe, proceed in one uniform tenor of finoothnefs, without changing according to the fubjefi:, or amufing the ear with thofe varieties of rhythm and cadence, which the moft regular verfifica- tion admits; it v/ill be fuppofed, that he writes carelefly, or tha^ he has no true rehfli for harmonious compofition. If, in his co- mick fcenes, he attempt to raife laughter by unnatural exaggera- tion ; which is fometimes done by. Sterne and Smollett : if, inftead of humour, he obtrude upon you indecent buffoonery ; which is frequent in Ariflophanes and Rabelais : if, where he intends wit, he can only bring forth common-place jokes, or verbal quibbles ; of which I am forry to fay that there is an example or two in Milton : or if, with Congreve and Vanburgh, he endeavour to make crimes and misfortunes matter of merriment ; we muft be- lieve, either that he has no true fcnfe of ridicule, or that he wilfully debafes it, to gratify the tafte of the times, or the fmgularity of his own temper. j But let it be remembered, that the work of an artifl is not to be charaflerifed by incidental faults. Thefe may be owing to the weaknefs of human nature; which in the bed men is liable to tranrgreffion, in the wifeft to error, and in the moft attentive to inadvertence. Who can paint nature with the energy of Shak- fpeare ? who fo fublime as Homer and Milton ? who more elegant than Horace ? Yet Shakfpeare is not always natural : Homer and Milton may, each of them, furnifli more than one example of meannefs : and Horace has written fome verfes that are equally unworthy of a good man and a good poet. If an author abound in beauties, let his blemilhes be forgotten. If he give proof of good intention, and difcover genius in any department of art or of fclence, he is entitled to honour. But when he falls continually A a into 178 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. into the fame fort of fault, and perfifts in an undertaking which he is unable to execute, he juftly incurs the cenfurc of criticifm *. It muft alfo be remarked, that we ought not to expeft, from any performance, a higher degree, or more varieties, of pleafure, than the author intended. Poets, who never attempt great things, may yet excel in elegy and paftoral, and other inferiour branches of the art i and nobody blames Theocritus or TibuUus, becaufe they pof- fefs not the fublimity of Homer : nay, they would have been really blanaeable, if they had endeavoured to introduce fublimity into poems that do not admit of it. Every work (hould be good in its kind ; but every kind of work has a fort of goodnefs peculiar to itfelf. Befides : though it is the aim of all the fine arts to give plea- fure, by gratifying thefe Secondary Senfes, it ought no lefs to be the aim of the artift, to promote the love of virtue ; which may be done, by difplaying the deformity of moral evil, as well as by painting the charms of moral goodnefs. And therefore, in Satire, and in fuch other writings, as are intended to move our indignation at vice, ofFenfive images may be allowable. For though in themfelves they could not give pleafure, thty may yet be approved of, as evidences of good meaning in the author, and as tending to cherifli good affections in the reader : even as haclh potions may warrantably be adminiftered, and painful operations of fuigery performed, in order to expel difeafe from the body. Yet, as we blame the phyfician, who gives more pain to his patient than is necefTary ; we muft alfo blame the fatirift, who, without obferving any rule of moderation in this matter, introduces ideas, that are either too indelicate to be ufed on any occafion, or lefs delicate than the occafion requires. Flattery and witticifm, bandied about from * Hor, Ar. Poet, verf. 347 — 360, one Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 179 one courtier to another, are objefts of fatirc, no doubt ; but, furcl}'', do not amount to a crhiie Co vciy atrocious, as Pope would infinuate, when be vents his abhorrence of them in the filthicll allufion that ever was written : an alhifion, which decency forbids me to tranfcrlbe, and of which the author himfelf fuppofes his friend to fay — This filthy fimilie, this beafHy line, Quite turns my ftomach. — Moft of our powers of perception are capable of improvement. The fmell of a perfumer ; the touch of a polilher ; the fight of a painter, who ftudics the exa6l vlfible appearances of things ; and the hearing of a blind man, who muft often truft to his ear for his prefervation ; are generally more acute, than the fame fenfes in other men : becaufe they are more exercifed, and the informations received by them more carefully attended to. A deviation from the fquare or the perpendicular is fooner perceived by the architedl, or joiner, than by an ordinary eye. Painters, in like manner, improve their ideas of fublimity, beauty, and elegant imitation, by fludying the moft admired piflures, and the beft monuments of anticnt art. And every mufician knows, that, by the practice of mufick, our fenfe of harmony may be improved to a degree, which can hardly be conceived by thofe, who never cultivated that faculty. Delicacy of tafte, in regard to wit and humour, is acquired by the fame means. The vulgar are delighted with homely jokes, bec.iufe they know no better : but one, who is accuftomed to elegant converfa- tion, and to the ftyle of polite authors, will foon learn to dillin- guilh between urbanity and rufticity, and undervalue tliat coarle buffoonery, to which, with lefs experience, he would perhaps have had no diflike *. * Eflay on Poetry and Mufick. Part i. chap, 3. Eflay on Laughter, chap. 4,, , A a 2 The i8o ' OF IMAGINATION. Ckap. IV. The Secondary Senfes are therefore to be improved by the ftudy oi nature, and of the beft performances in art ; and by keeping at a diflance from every thing, in art, or in manners, that is inelegant, or indecent. IV. A fourth requifite to good tafte is Sympathy ; or that Senfi- bihty of heart, by v^^hich, on fuppofing ourfelves in the condition of another, we are confcious in fome degree of thofe very emotions, pleafant or painful, which in a more intenfe degree would arife within us, if we were really in that condition. Human pleafures may be divided into thofe of the body, and thofe of the foul : the former common to us with the brutes j the latter peculiar to rational beings. Thofe are of fhort duration ; thefe more permanent. By the firft, an appetite may be gratified j but it is by the lafl only that we can be made happy. The fine arts are intended to give pleafure rather to the mind, than to the bodily fenfes. For though founds in muiick pleafe the ear, and colours in painting the eye, they are little valued, if the foul receive no gratification. Now the human foul cannot be grati- fied, except by thofe things that raife in it certain paflions or emo- tions : for a man unfufceptible of paflion, who could neither hope nor fear, rejoice nor be forry, defire nor diflike, would be incapable of happinefs. And therefore, it muft be th^.aim of all the fine arts, and of poetry in particular, to convey into the mind fuch paf- fions, or affedions, as bring pleafure along with them'. Tragedy gives pleafure, by infufing pity and imaginaiy terror, and other elevated emotions : and Comedy, by difplaying the fol- lies of mankind in fuch a light as to provoke contempt and laugh- ter. The Epick poem, like Tragedy, opei'ates upon our fublinier affe6^ions j and infpires admiration of what is great, joy in the pro- fperity of the good, a tender forrow for the unfortunate ; and an agreeable aigitation of mind, produced by the viciflitudes of hope and Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. j8j and fear, as they are called forth by the circumftances of the ftory. True Satire pleafes, wliile it promotes the love of virtue and wif- dom ; and this it may do, by expofing the crimes of mankind to our indignation, or their follies to ridicule. Lyrick poetry is appli- cable to a variety of matters, and gives fcope to many paflions : and thefe, by a pleafing extravagance in the choice of words and figures, and a peculiar wildncfs in the compofition and harmony, it endeavours to work up to enthufiafm. Even when it paints in- animate nature, Poetry is little efleemed, unlefs it touch the heart : and an author of fenfibility knows, how to feledl thofe appear- ances that are mod likely to captivate a reader's fancy, and lead his mind to fuch thoughts, as may awaken benevolence, piety, con- tentment, tendernefs, admiration, furprife, and other pleafurable emotions *. In a word, every thing in poetry ought to be pathetick ; that is, capable of moving the paffions ; not merely fuch as are melancholy and tender, but our affedlions in general. So that, if the reader- \jfent that gentlenefs of mind, which I have clfewherc defcribed un- der the name of Sympathy -f-, it will be impollible for him to re- ceive any true pkafure from a good poem j however fkilled he may be in language and .verfification, and however well acquainted- with the ordinary appearances of nature.. And yet, a defe6l of this fenfibility is not uncommon among the readers of poetry. . One is wholly engrofled with the contrivance of the fable; another values nothing but the moral fentiments; a third attends chiefly to the flyle, and the numbers : I have heard of one, whofe fole pleafure in reading Virgil arofe from comparing Eneas's voyage with the map; and of another, who could find nothing wortli notice in the Georgick, but fome precepts of agri- culture. But the true, poet touches the heart, whatever be his •* Eflay on Poetry aiKl Mufitk. Parti, chap. 3. •{■ IbiJ. chap. 7. fuhjefl: : i82 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. fubjefl: : and the true critick has a heart capable of being touched, with admu-ation, tendernefs, joy, benevolence, piety, patriotifm, or any other emotion that the author means to infpire ; and of feeling the full efFe6l of his harmony, and of thofe beautiful of fublime ideas that may adorn his compofition. V. The laft thing mentioned as neceflary to form good tafle, is Judgment, or Good Senfs; which is indeed the principal thing; and which fome would confider, as comprehending moft of the foregoing particulars. By Judgment, I here underftand fuch a con- ftitution of mind, as difpofes a man to attend to the reality of things, and qualifies him for knowing and difcovering the truth. It is by means of this faculty, as applied in criticifm, that we compare poetical imitations with natural objects, fo as to perceive in what they refemble, and in what they differ ; that we eftimate the reftitude of fentiments, the probability of incidents, and whe- ther fidlitious charadlers be fimilar to thofe of real life and confif- tent with themfelves, and whether any part of a compofition be unfuitable to the tendency of the whole. Hence too we difcern, with rerpe(5t to the plan of a work, whether it be fimple and natural, or confufed and unnatural ; and whether the author have been careful to make it, both in the general arrangement, and in the ftrudure of each part, conformable to rule. Left this fhould be mifunderftood, I muft repeat an obfervation, which I have elfewhere had occafion to make; tliat, in almoft every art, two forts of rules have obtained authority ; the Effential, and the Ornamental. The former refult from the very nature of the work, and are neceffary to the accomplifhment of the end propofed by the artift. The latter depend rather upon eftabliflied cuftom, than upon nature; and claim no higher origin, than the pra6lice of fome great performer, whom it has become the fafliion to imitate. To violate an ejfential rule, difcovers want of fenie 8 i]^ Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 183 in an author, and confequently want of tafle : for where fenfe is not, tafte cannot be. To depart from an ornamental or mecha- nical rule, may be confiftent with the foundcft judgment, and is fometimes a proof both of good tafte and of great gcniuy. Great wits fometimes may glorioufly offend, And rife to faults true criticks dare not mend : — — From vulgar bounds with brave diforder part, And fnatch a grace beyond the reach of art. I am the more anxious to mark, and to dwell on this diftin6lioi7, becaufe the French criticks * in general feem to have no notion of it. What is contrary to eftablifhed rule, or to fafhion, they condemn as contrary to tafte, without enquiring further. The confequence is, that, according to them, French authors only can write in tafte, becaufe no other authors write in the French fafhion: and Shakefpeare's plays muft he abfurd farces, and their author a barbarian, becaufe they happen to be framed, upon a plan, and in a flyle, which the criticks of Paris have never acknowleged to be good. Criticifm has been thought an entertairung, and ufeful part, of the philofophy of mind : but, upon this pi inciple, is as much beyond the reach, or below the ilotice, of rational inquiiy, as modes of hair-drefTmg, or patterns of fhoe-buckles. The following are fome of the eflential rules of compolition, which muft not be violated on any account. I. In Philofophy and Iliftory, the ftrifteft regard is to be had to truth, in the detail of fa^Sls ; and the inferences are to be made ac- cording to common fenfe, and the rules of found reafoning. • I (hould have faid, the French Criticks of the prefent age. Few nations have produced more learned men ilian France. 1 fpeak here, not of the Stevens, the Daciers, the Rollins, the Fenelons ; but of thofe writers, who have learned from Voltaire to cenfure becaufe they envy, and to criticize what they clo not iinilet- fiand. 2. In i84 OF IMAGINATION'. Chap. IV. r.. Ill works of fiction, a like regard is to be had to probability; and no events are to, be introduced, but fuch as, according to the general opinion of the people to whom they are addrefled, may be fuppoied to happen. 3 . Fictitious charadlers ought to fpeak and a6l fuitably to their fuppofed condition, age, rank, and other circumftances j and to the paflions, and fentiments, that are faid to occupy their minds. 4. External obje6ls are to be defcribed, both in hiilory, and in poetry, as they are found to be in nature. The poet, however, is not obliged to enumerate all their qualities, but thofe only tliat are neceffary for his purpofe. 5. An author's ftyle muft always be perfpicuous, and fit to con- vey a full view of his meaning to an attentive reader j and fo con- trived, as not to hurt, but to pleafe the ear, when it is pronounced. But in every fort of ftyle, the fame degree of perfpicuity, or of har- mony, is not to be expected. 6. Every compofition, whether long or fliort, from an Epick poem or Tragedy, down to a fermon or fliort efTay, ought to have fome one end in view ; and all its parts muft be fo difpofed, as to promote that end. If it have no end, it has no meaning ; if more ends than one, it may confound the attention by its multiplicity : if any of its parts be unferviceable, or repugnant to its final pur- pofe, they are fuperfluous or irregular, and ought to have been lopped off, or corrected. Of this unity of defign, Homer's two poems are perfe6t models. Each contains a great variety of adtion, converfation, and adventure : but every thing, in the one, tends to the re-eftablifliment of Ulyfles in his kingdom, and, in the other, to difplay the anger of Achilles, and its lamentable confe- quences. ' 7. Every compofition ought to have a moral tendency, or at leaft to be innocent. That mind is perverted, wliich can either 6 produce Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 1R5 produce an immoral book, or be pleafcd with one. Virtue and good taftc are fo nearly allied, that what offends the former can never gratify the latter. 8. As, in every nation, certain cuftoms of long (landing acquire in time the authority of law ; fo, in every art, there are rules, .which, though one might have called them difcretionary or indif- ferent at their firft Introduftion, come at length, after having been hivariably obfeived by thebeft authors, to be confidered as eflential. One example will explain this. Homer, who invented, or at leaft who perfected, Epick poetry, adopted in both his poems that mea- fure of verfe which is called Hexameter. That be might without blame have adopted another, will hardly be queftioned. His choice therefore was arbitrary. But, as it was a lucky choice ; and as the pra6tice of Homer became, in this refpe6l, a law to the poets of antiquity -, the hexameter is now, and was in the time of Horace *, and probably long before, held to be indifpenfable in all Greek and Latin poems of the Epick kind. — For the fame reafon, partly ; and partly, as Ariftotle obferves, becaufe it is too elaborate, and unlike the cadence of converfation, Hexameter verfe would not be tolerated in the Greek or Latin drama j the lambick, Trochaick, and Ana- peftick meafures, having been adopted, by the belt authors, in the antient tragedy and comedy. And, in like manner, if an Englifli author, in an Epick or Dramatick poem, were to attempt any other form of verfe, than our lambick of five feet, he would be thought to tranfgrefs a rule, which, though at firft a matter of indifference, is now, after having been eftabliflied by the praftice of Chaucer, Spencer, Shakefpeare, Milton, and all our great poets, become eflential and unalterable. I fliall now give an inftance or two, of the ornamental or me- chanical laws of compofition. * Hor. Ar. Poet. Verf. 73, B b I. That i86 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. 1 . That a regular tragedy, or comedy, fliould confift of five afts, and neither more nor fewer, is a rule, for which it would be dif- ficult to afllgn any better reafon than this, that it has been followed by good authors, and is recommended by Horace. Nor has this rule been invariably followed. The Italian Opera, which, as reformed by Metallafio, is a moft beautiful fpecies of Dramatick poem, confifts of but three ads : and we have, in EngliOi, many good plays, both ferious and comical, divided in the fame manner ; and fome of only two ztts, and fome even of one. It is true, that a dramatick piece ought not to be too long, becaufe it would fatl"-ue the fpeclator as well as the a6lor ; nor too flaort, becaufe it would not be fufliciently interefting : it is reafonable too, that fome intei-vals fhould be allowed in the reprefentation, for the relief both of the players, and of the audience : but that this purpofe could not be anfwered by five intervals, or three, as well as by four, is a point, which I apprehend it vv'ould be difficult to prove. 2. Moft of the French and Gieek tragedians obferve t/je unities of time and place: that is, they fuppofe every part of the aflioa to liave happened in the fame place, becaufe it is all reprefented on the fame ilage j and they limit the time of it to a few hours, becaufe the reprefentation is of no longer continuance. Unity of place is violated, when the fcene changes from one place to another, from a houfe to the ftreet, from the town to the country, or from one town or country to another. Unity of time is broken through, when the incidents of the fable are fuch, as could not have fallen out within a few hours, or at leafl: within the fpace of one day and one night. The obfervance of thefc unities may in fome cafes, no doubt, heighten the probability of the aftion : but they lay a mighty reftraint upon an author's genius -, and they may give rife to impro- babilities as great as any of thofe that can be occafioned by the 6 negled chap. I\^. OF IMAGINATION". 187 neglect of them. If tlie fubjc6l of the play be a confplracy, for example, and the fcene of aftion the ftreet ; then, if unity of place be held cffeutial, the confpirators muft condu6l their affairs in the ilreet, fo as to be fecn and heard by every body : a very unlikely circumftance, and wliat, one may venture to fay, can never happen. Surely, mofl: audiences would be better pleafed, and think the whole more natural, if, on fuch an emergency, the fcenc were to change from the ilreet to a private apartment. The improbabilities, occafioned by difrcgarding thefe unities, are not fo gieat as fome people imagine. While we fit in the theatre, it is as eafy for us to reconcile our minds to the fliifting of the fcene, from the town to the country, or from one country to another j as it is, at our entrance, to fuppofe the flage a cer- tain place in Rome or Egypt. And, if we can perfuade ourfelves, that the player, whom we fee, and whofe name and perfon we know, has on a fudden become Cato, or Cefar, or any other antient hero; we may as well believe, that the evening which we pafs in the playhoufe comprehends the fpace of feveral days or years. But in fa6l, there is not, in dramatical reprefentation, thatflrid probability which the criticks talk of. We never miflake the after for the perfon whofe chara6ler he bears ; we never imagine our- felves in a foreign country, or carried back into the ages of antiquity : our pleafure is derived from other fources ; and from this chiefly, that we know the whole to be a fiction. — The unities of time and place are violated by Shakefpeare, in every one of his plays. He often fliifts the fcene from one country to another : and the time of his aSicn is not always limited to days or weeks, but extends frequently to months, and even to years. Yet thefe irregularities are not offenfive to thofe who underlland him. And hence, I think, we may infer, that the rule, v/hich enjoins die B b 2 dramatick i88 OF IMAGINATION. Chap. IV. dramatick poet to a rigid obfervance of the unities of time and place, is not an eifential, but a mechanical rule of compofition. * As to the improvement of tafte in this particular; — I fhall only remark, that whatever tends to corre6t, and methodife, our know- ledge, either of men, or of things, is to be confidered as a means of improving the judgment. Hiflory, geometry, and grammar; and thofe parts of philofophy, which convey clear ideas, and are attended with fatisfa6lory proof, are eminently ufeful in this refpect ; — to which muft be added fuch an acquaintance with life and manners, as fits a man for bufmefs and converfation. Idlenefs, and habits of fuperficial fludy, are ruinous to the underftanding ; t$ I have often remarked already, but can hardly repeat too often. And nothing is more detrimental to tafte, and to judgment, than thofe fubtleties of antient and modern metaphyficks, that encourage verbal controverfy, and lead to nothing but doubt and darknefs. They exhauft the vigour of the mind to no purpofe ; they extinguilli the love of good learning ; they withdraw the attention from the concerns of human life, and from thofe things in art and nature, that warm the heart, and elevate the fancy : they pervert the rational powers, they corrupt good principles, and they poifon the fources of human happinefs. Tafte, as far as it depends on the knowledge of rules, may be further improved, by reading good books of criticifm, and com- paring them with the authors whom they illuftrate. Sound judge- ment, however, we muft acknowledge to be in a great meafure conftitutional : and no perfon will ever acquire true tafte, unlefs nature has made him a man of fenfe. So much for tajle m general, and its improvement. It is fcarce necefl'ary to add, becaufe the thing is obvious, that, in order to be * See Johnfon's Preface to Shakfpeare; and CMah'igi's Di/ferlazior/e /u k Poefie Drammaticke del S. J. P. Mctafafio, 9 completely Chap. IV. OF IMAGINATION. 189 completely fkilled in any of tliofe particular branches of art, which are fubjedl to the cognizance of this faculty, one muft unite theory with practice. None but a painter is a competent judge of painting: no perfon who has never compofcd in profe or verfc, can be an unexceptionable critick in language and verfification : and he who is truly a mufical connoiflcur mull have praftifed as a mufician, and ftudicd the laws of harmony. In eveiy art, certain materials and inftruments are employed 5 and they only, who have handled them, are entitled to decide upon the dexterity of the artift. Yet, without having been a praftitioner, one may acquire fuch tafle in the fine arts, as fhall yield a high degree, and a great variety, of entertainment. The pleafures of tafte are worthy of our ambition : they are innocent and profitable. He, who em- ploys his leifure in the ftudy of nature and art, is efteemed on that very account ; and has many forts of liberal recreation in his power, which are unknown to thofe who devote themfelves to {^w- fuality, or the purfuit of riches. But Tafte has a further iife : it is friendly to virtue *. Nay, I might, and perhaps I ought to have mentioned the love of virtue as * An artift of the higheft eminence, has fet this matter in a light fo ftriking and {o beautiful, that I fliall be excufed for tranfcribing the paffage entire. The reader would not thank me, if I were to attempt an abridgement of it. " Every eftablifhment that tends to the cultivation of the pleafures of the mind, as *' diftiniSt from thofe of fenfe, may be confidered as an inferiour fchool of morality, " where the mind is polilhed and prepared for higher attainments. " Let us for a moment take a rtiort furvey of the progrefs of the mind towards what *' is, or ought to be, its true objciS of attention. Man, in his loweft ftatc, has no " pleafures but thofe of fenfe, and no wants but thofe of appetite. Afterwards, when fociety is divided into different ranks, and fome are appointed to labour for the fupport of others, thofe whom their fuperiority fets free from labour begin to look for inlelledtual entertainments. Thus, whilft the fliepherds were attending their flocks. erniillion of him, " in whom we live, and move, and have our *' being.'" 6, The s,ii O F D R E A M I N G. 6. The Imagination, or Fancy, feems to be almoft the only one of OLU' mental powers, which is never fufpended in its operations, by fleep. Of the other facukies, fome are more and others lefs affected, and fome appear to be for a time wholly extinguiflied. That memory is often impaired in fleep, is evident from this, that a perfon fhall dream of converfmg with his deceafed friends, with- out remembering any thing of their death, though that event is feldom out of his thoughts when awake. Sometimes we feem ta be carried back into the ages of antiquity, without being fenfible, of what in our waking mom.ents we can never forget, that thofe ages were paft before we had an exiilence : as I remember once to have dreamed, that I was paffing the Alps with Hannibal and \i\s army. Sometimes our memory feems to be more vigorous than our judgment : as when v.re dream of converfmg with a dead friend, and- yet are not furprifed at the circumftance of feeing, and talking with^ fuch a perfon *. At other times, judgment is more active. Thus, as already obferved, men fometimes conclude (and I have reafbntO' believe that the fame thing happens to children) from the abfurdity of the fcenes that prefent themfelves in fleep, that they are not real, but vifionary. 1 dreamed once, that I was walking on the parapet of a high bridge. How I came there, I did not know : but, re- colle6ting that I had never been given to pranks of that nature, I' began to think it might be a dream : and, finding my fituation uneafy, and defirous to get rid of fo troublefome an idea, I direw xnyfblf headlong, in the belief, that the fnock of the fall would reftore my fenfes j which happened accordingly. In a word, there are none of our powers, over which fleep does not feem, at one time or other, to have great influence, fancy alone excepted : and' even this faculty appears to be extinguiflied, when we fleep without ••* Eflay on Truth, Part ii. chap. 2, fciSt, 2, dreaming,. O F D R E A M I N G. 223 dreaming, (if that is ever the cafe) and fometlmes acquires a viva- city and a wildnefs that are quite unaccguntablc. Who can tell, but the temporary fulpenfion of thefc powers may beiifeful, by enabling them to acl more regularly, and with greater vigour, at other times ? Or, to exprefs it in different words, Who can tell, but the foul, when it has long a6led in one direction, may be relieved and ffrengthened, by quitting the old track entirely for a while, and exerting itfclf in a new one? For, when we think too long on any one fubjedl, we find that our intelle£lual enejgies become languid and unfuccefsful, and that a little reft is necellary to the foul, as well as to the body. Nay, on thefc occafions, the mind may regain her vigour, not only by reft, but alfo, and more effeftually perhaps, by exerting herfelf in another way. Thus converfation makes us forget the labour of invention : reading is a relief after the fatigue of company : mufick is frequently more foothing than filence : and they, who are haraffed with me- taphyfical uncertainty, may find a cure in the demonftrations of Euclid. 7. It was remarked, that fome men dream more, and others lefs; and fome perhaps, though thefe are few, not at all. This cannot be fully accounted for, from the different degrees of health which diffe- rent men enjoy, nor from their different ways of life ; although thefe, and the like peculiarities, may no doubt have influence. Perfons, who think much, and take little bodily exercife, will perhaps be found to be the greateft dreamers ; efpecially, if their imagination be a6live, and their nervous fyftem very delicate : which laft is too common an infirmity among men of learning. The fleep of the Labouring man is fweet and foiuid ; and his dreams he feldom re- members. For his mental faculties are not much employed, his nerves are firm, and the fphere of his imagination is narrow. 224 OF DREAMING. As nature doss nothing in vain, is it not probable, that to the conftitutions of fome people Dreaming may be more necelTary, as a mental recreation, than to thofe of others ? To meditate con- tinually on the fame fet of difagreeable obje6ls, is hurtful to health, and may be fatal to reafon : and when one is afflifted with low Ibirits, which often proceed from this very caufe, the phyfician never fails to recommend amufements, company, travelling, fea-voyages, and other expedients, for leading the mind out of its old gloomy track, refrefhing it with new ideas, and forcing it to exert itfelf in a new direction, and with unufual energy. Go, foft enthufiaft, quit the cyprefs groves. Nor to the rivulet's lonely moanings tune Thy fad complaint. Go, feek the chearful haunts Of men, and mingle with the buftling croud. Lay fchemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the widi Of nobler minds, and pufh them night and day. Or join the caravan, in queft of fcenes New to the eye, and fliifting every hour. Beyond the Alps, beyond the Appenines. Or, more adventurous, ruOi into the field Where war grows hot, and raging through the fky The lofty trumpet fwells the maddening foul; And in the hardy camp, and toilfome march Forget all fofter, and lefs manly cai'es. * They, therefore, who think more than others, may have more need than others have, of that amufement and variety which is pro- duced by dreaming. Certain it is, that dreams are often a relief to thofe, who are in perplexity, or who have long been ruminating upon difagreeable * Armftrong, thing?. OF dreaming; 225 things, or upon any one fet of ideas which they Cvinnot eafily get rid of. Nor is it neceflaiy, in order to efFe<5t this, that a dream fliould in itfelf be pleafing. Scenes of difficulty, and even of danger, are, as we have feen, recommended to the patient opprefTcd with melancholy : and if a dream fhall only give a new impulfe, even for* a fliort time, to the mind of fuch a perfon, it may do him an im- portant fervice, however difagreeable in itfelf. Rarely, indeed, are they happy in their dreams, whofc faculties are worn out with much thinking. 8. We are warranted by authentick hiftory to believe, that dreams have given information of future events. Hence weak people infer, that they always were, or ftill may be, prophetical. But nothing is more abfurd. Becaufe ■ in antient times there were prophets, and holy men, fliall I therefore conclude, that I am a liaint, or a prophet ? Becaufe the Deity has been pleafed to reveal himfelf, in an extraordinary manner, to fome perfons fet apart by him for extraordinary purpofes, fliall I therefore imagine, that ha will reveal to me the tnfling occurrences of my life, a few days beforei t'hey, happen? He has in great mercy concealed from us the know- lege of what is to come ; except fo far as it was neceflary to us, andi could not be made out by human reafon. For man, acquainted with futurity, would be both ufelefs and miferable. To him all curiofity and enterprife would be at an end, and all hope extin- guiflaedj future evils would torment him« before they came; and future good, by being anticipated, would lofe every charm that furprife and novelty confer upon it. And he would fit down, mo- tionlefs andflupid, in expeftation of evil, which he knew he could not avoid, and of good, which would give rife neither to aflivit}-, nor to deflrc. An oifler, endowed with fight and hearing, confci- oufnefs and reaibn, would not be a more wretched creature. Even G g whca 226 OF DREAMING. when God has foretold future events by his prophets, he has gene- rally delivered the prophecy in terms that could not be fully under- ftood, till after it was accompliOied : for otherwife it muft have in- terfered with the principles of human aftion, and with the ordinary courfe of human affairs. Is it not ftrange, if dreams are prophetical, that, after the expe- rience of fo many ages, we fliould never have found out any rational way of expounding them ? And if fome are prophetical, but not all, is it not ftrange, that every fpecies of dream fhould be equally fami- liar to good men, and to bad ? For of each charafter, there are fome fuperftitious people who beUeve in dreams, and fome more rational who do not. To fay, that dreams are of divine original, implies (as Ariftotle has well obferved) many abfurdities, and this among others, that it is not to the wifeft and beft men they are fent, but to all indifcriminately. * The rules, by which the vulgar pretend to interpret dreams, are too ridiculous to be mentioned. They are indeed fuch, as may make almoft any dream prophetical of any event. If a dream and a fubfequent occurrence be the fame or fimilar, then they believe that the dream foretold it ; if totally different, and even contrary, they ftill beUeve that the dream foretold it. That there may occafionally be a coincidence of a dream with a future event, is nothing more than one has reafon to expedl from the revolution of chances. It would indeed be wonderful, con- fidering the variety of our thoughts hi fleep, and that they all bear fome analogy to the affairs of life, if this did never happen. But there is nothing more extraordinary in it, than that an idiot fliould fometimes fpeak to the purpofe, or an irregular clock once or twice a year point to the right hour. The fame coincidence of a reality * Ariftot. de Dlvinatione per fomnum. cap. i. Q with OF DREAMING. 227 with a previous imagination is obfervable when we are awake ; as when a friend, whom we did not cxpecl, happens to come in view the very moment we were thinking or fpeaking of him : a thing fo common, that both in Latin, and in Enghfli, it may be expreffed by a proverb. 9. My next remark is, that dreams depend in part on the ftate of the air. That, which has power over the pafTions, may reafon- ably be prefumed to have power over the thoughts of men For the thoughts, that occur to a mind aduated by any pafhon, are always congenial to that palfion, and tend to encourage it. Now, moil people experimentally know, how effe6lual, in producing joy and hope, arc pure fkies and funfnine j and that a long continuance of dark weather brings on folicitude and melancholy. This is particu- larly the cafe with thofe perfons, whofe nervous fyftem has been weakened by a fcdentary life, and much thinking ; and they, as I hinted formerly, are moft fubje6l to troublefome dreams. If the ex- ternal air can afFe6t the motions of fo heavy a fubflance as mercury, in the tube of the barometer; we need not wonder, that it fliould affeft thofe finer fluids, that circulate through the human body. And if our pafllons and thoughts, when we are awake, may be varioufly modified by the confiftency, defeft, or redundance of thefe fluids, and by the ftate of the tubes through which they circulate j need we wonder, that the fame thing fliould happen in fleep, when our ideas, difengaged from the controul of reafon, may be fuppofed to be more obfequious to material impulfe ? When the air is loaded with grofs vapour, dreams are generally difagreeable to perfons of a delicate conftitution. If then our thoughts in fleep may receive form and colour from fo many circumftances j from the general ftate of our health, from the prefent ftate of the ftomach and fluids, from the G g 2 temperature ;22g OF DREAMING. temperature of the air, from the tenor of our thoughts through the day, and from the pofition of outward obje6ls operating upon our organs of fenfe ; need we be furprifed at the variety of our dreams ? And when any uncommon or difagreeable one occurs, is it not more rational to refer it to one or other of thefe caufes, than to terrify ourfelves with a foohfli conceit, that it is fupernatural, and betokens calamity? How often, during the day, do thoughts arife, that we cannot account for, as un- common perhaps, and incongruous, as thofe which make up ©ur dreams ! Once, after riding thirty miles in a high wind, I remember to have paffcd part of a night in dreams, that were bej^ond de- fcription terrible : infbmuch that I at laft found it expedient to keep myfclf awake, that I might no more be tormented with them. Had I been fuperftitious, I fliould have thought that fome difafter was im.pending. But it occurred to me, that the flormy weather I had encountered the preceding day might be the occafioa of thofe horrors : and I have fuice, in fome medical book, met with a remark to juftify the conjecture. A very flight caufe may check that infenfible perfpiration, which is fo needful to health : and when this happens, we cannot expect that our dreams fliould be £o eafy, as at other times. Let no one, then, be alarmed at an uncommon dream. It is probably nothing more than a fymptom of a trifling bodily diforder : and, if fo, it has no more to do with futurity, nor is one whit more fupernatural, ihan a cut finger, or a pang of the toothach. lo. Concerning the opinion, xvhich fome have entertained, -that our dreams are fuggefl-ed by invifible beings ; I fliall only iay, that I thinh it very improbable. For, firPi^ I fee no reafon ibr believing, that the Deity would employ " millions of ipiri- •4 " tual OF DREAMING. 229 '.* tual creatures" In fuch an office, as that of prompting our ordinary dreams. Secondly, I cannot conceive, how thofe crea- tures fhould be afFe6led, in fuch an operation, by the external air, or by the ftate of our health, wliich are known to have great influence on our thoughts, both in flcep, and when we are awake. And, thirdly, from what we know of the rapidity of fancy wlien awake, we need not fuppofe any foreign impulfc requifite to produce the various phenomena of dreaming ; as the foul feems to pofTefs in herfclf powers fufficicnt for that ])urj)ofc. Fever, melancholy, and many other difeafcs, give a wildnefs to the thoughts of waking men, equal, or even fuperiour, to what happens in fleep. If the agency of unfeen beings is not fup- pofed to produce the firft; why fliould we have recourfe to it, in order to account for the laft ? — But it is urged, that in fleep, the foul is paflive, and haunted by vifions, which flic would gladly get rid of if flie could. And it may be urged in anfwer, for it is not Icfs true, that perfons affiifted with anxiety and melancholy too often find, to their fad experience, that their foul is alniofl: equally paflive, when they arc awake; for that they are, even then, haunted with tormenting thoughts, from which all their powers of reafon, all the exertions of their will, and all the exhortations of their friends, cannot effeclually relieve them. To conclude : Providence certainly fuperintends the affairs of men; and often, we know not how often, interpofes for our prefervation. It would, therefoie,, be prefumptuous to affirm, that fupernatural cautions, in regard to futurity, are never com- municated in dreams. It is the dcfign of thefe remarks, not to contradict any authcntick experience, or hiftorical fad j but only to flaow., that dreams may proceed from a variety of caufes, \:'hich 23a OF DREAMING, which have nothing lapernatural in them : and tliat, though wc are not much acquainted with the nature of this wonderful mode of perception, we know enough of it to fee, that it is not iifclefs or fuperfluous, but may, on the contrary, anfwer fome purpofes of great importance to our welfare, both in foul and in body. THE THEORY O F LANGUAGE. IN TWO PARTS. Part I. Of the Origin and General Nature of Speech. Part II. Of Unlverfal Grammar. Ex dementis conftant, ex principiis oriuntur, omnia : Et ex judicii confuetudine in rebus minutis adhibita pendet fepiffime in maximis vera atque acciirata fcientia. S. Clarke. Pref. ad Homer. The Theory of Language. PART I. of the Origin and General Nature of Speech, C H A P. L MaJti the only Animal capable of Speech. — Speech, an Art, acquired by Imitation. — Natural Signs of human Thought. — Artificial Signs of Thought : — frf, Vifible ; — fecondly, Audible. TH E faculties of the human mind have long ago teen divided into thofe of Perception and thofe of Volition ; the former being fuppofed to be the inlets to knowlege ; the latter, the inllruments of a6lion. But, in many cafes, we cannot perceive v^'ithout an exertion of the w^ill ; nor act, without adding to our flock of knowlege : and therefore, the dlvifion, though fufficiently accurate perhaps, is not perfe611y fo. The faculty of Speech is A6live, becaufe we 3(51, while we make ufe of it ; and may alfo be called Perceptive, becaufe by means of it we perceive what partes in the minds of one another. But whether we call it Active, or Perceptive, or to what clafs of human powers we refer it, is a matter of no confequence. It is one of the diftinguiihing chara6ters of our nature -, none of the in- feriour animals being in any degree poffelTed of it. For we muft not call by the name of Speech that imitation of h\n'nan articulate voice, which parrots and fome other birds arc H h capable 234 T H E T H E O R Y Part L capable of; Speech implying thought, and confcioufnefs, and the power. of feparating and arranging our ideas, which are faculties peculiar to rational minds. In Greek, the fame word Legos denotes both Speech and Reafon j and in Latin, Reafon is Ratio, and Speech Oratio, which, I prefume, may be refolved into oris ratio, that is mouth -reafon, or reafon made audible by the mouth : a proof, that the Greeks and Romans confidered Reafoii and Speech as very nearly allied. That fome inferiour animals fliould be able to mimick human rirticulation, will not feem wonderful, when we recoliecl, that even by machines certain words .have been articulated. But that the parrot fliould annex thought to the word he utters, is as uiilikeiy, as ■ that a machine flioutd do fo. Rogi/e and knave are in every parrot's mouth : but the ideas they Hand for areincomprehenfibic, except by beings endued with reafon and a moral faculty. It has however been a common opinion, and is probabk enough, that there may be, among irrational animals, fornething, w hich by 2l figure we may call Language, even as the iiiliin^live economy of bees is figuratively called Government. 7 his at leaft is evident, that the natural voices of one animal are m fome degree intelli- gible, or convey particular feelings, or impulfes, to others of the .fame fpecies. The fummons of the hen is underilood by the chickens : and a fmiilar mode of communication may be obferved,, in many of the irrational tribes, between the parents and offspring, and between one animal and his cuftomary affociate. Nay, to dogs and horfes, and even to other creatures of lefs fagacity, the voice of their mailer foon becomes familiar -, and they learn to perfoi-m certain actions, on receiving certain audible or vifible fignals, from thofe whom they are wont to obey. This, however, is a proof, rather of their docility, and of the quicknefs of their eye and ear, than of any intelligence in regard to language. And it is more Chap. I. O F L A N G U A G E. 235 more to the prefent pui-pofe to remark, that in one and the fame brute animal different pallions often exprefs themfelves by diftl-rent voices. How unlike, for example, are the cries of the fame do"-, when he barks at the (hanger, fnarls at his enemy, whines with hunger or cold, howls with forrow when he lofcs his mafter, or whimpers with joy when he finds him again ! * But thefe, and the like animal voices, have no analogy with human fpeech. — For, firfl, men fpeak by art and imitation, whereas the voices in queflion are wholly inftinctive : for that a dog, which had never heard anotlier bark, would notwithflanding bark himfclf, admits of no doubt j and that a man, who h'.d never heard any language, would not fpeak any, is equally certain. — Secondly, tlie voices of brute animals are not broken, or refolvable, into diflincl elementary founds, like thofe of man when he fpeaks, (who is, from this circumftance, called by Homer and Hefiod Alerops or 'voice-dividing) ; nor are they fufceptible of that variety, which would be neceffary for the communication of a very few fenti- ments : and it is pretty certain, that, previoully to inftruclion, the young animals comprehend their meaning, as well as the old. — And, thirdly, thefe voices feem intended by nature to exprefs, not diftin6l ideas, but fuch feelings only, as it may be for the good * Thefe, and fome other varieties in the voice of this animal, are dcfcribcd by Lucretius with extjuifite proprieiy. Irritata caniim cum primum magna molofi.um Moliia riiSa freinunt duros nudantia dentes ; Longc alio fonitu rabie diftrafla minantur, Et cum jam Jatrant,;et vocibus omnia complciit. At catulos blande cum lingua lambere tentant, Aut ubi cos ja(5lant pedibus, morfuque petentes, Sufpcrifis veros imitantOr dentibus hauftus, Loiige alio patf^o gannitu vocis aduiant ; Et cum deferti baubnntur in .-edibus, aut cum Piorantcs fugiunt fumitlifilb eq^fipre plagps. V. »p6a, Hh2 of 236 ^ THE THEORY Part P. of the fpecies, or for the advantage of man, that they ftw.ild have the power of uttering : hi which, as in all other refpefts, they ar^e analogous, not to our fpeaking, but to our weeping, laughing, groaning, fcreaming, and other natural and audible cxprefllons of paffion. In this light they are confidered by Ariftotle, in the followir*g paffage. " Man of all animals is only pofleffed of fpeech. Bare " found indeed may be the fign of what is pleafurable or painful ; *' and for that reafon is it common even to other animals alfo. " For fb far we perceive even their nature can go, that they have "a fenfe of thofe y^£'//;^o-J•, znA Jignrfy them to each other. But " Sj)eech is made to indicate what is expedient, and what hurtful, ** and, in confequence of this, what is juft, and unjuft. It is there- " fore given to men : becaufe this, with refpedl to other animals, " is to men alone peculiar, that of Good and Evil, Juft and Un- '' juft, they only poflefs a fenfe or feeling *." Some animals fecm to employ their voice, without any pnrpofe of giving information to others' of the fpecies. The lark, fings a great part of the day, even when alone. This affords a.prelump- tion, that her fong has nothing in it of the natiire of fpeech. That energy feems natural to the animal when foaiing in the Iky : per- haps it may be of benefi,t to her, as an amufement : certainly it is very pleafing to the ear of man.. Some birds fmg, while preparing their nefts, and taking care of their young, and are filent the left of the year. But it is not the nature of fpeech to be periodical : whereas thofe energies muft, be fo, which are the efFeft of periodical feelings. Others of the brute creation are moft apt to utter their voices, when the weather is about to change. But can we fuppofe, that they ai'e then thinking * Tranflatcd by Mr, Harris. See Tnatife coJuerning Hoppivefs, note fifteenth. 6 of Clui>\ I. OF LANGUAGE. 2-7 of tlic weatlur, or tliat ihcy intctul to give information ccncerning i-t ? Is it not more likely, that, as \'ii'gil obfcrves, their bodtcj being affe6Ved by al relations of the atmofphcrc which we cannot per- ceive *", they are then, without any purpofe, exprefling inftinctively certain' pleafant, or painful fenfationb -, even as the infant of a. month old does, while it is crying, or fnnling? We learn to fpcak, by imitating others ; and therefore he cannot l]^)eak, who does not hear. It was once a vulgar notion, that a perfon brought up from infancy without hearing any language would of himfelf fpeak Hebrew; this having been thought the firfl:, the moft facred, and the mod natural diale(5f. But it is now acknowleged, and is even faid to have been proved by experiment, that fuch a perfon would be dumb ; oi', at leaft, would employ hr3> voice in imitating the inarticulate founds he might have heard, or in expreffmg certain feelings by groans, laughter, cries, and the like modes of natural utterance. I formerly knew a poor man, who fpoke a very fingular dialect. His name was William More ; his age about fixty. He vias fo deaf, that his neighbours doubted, whether he could be made heat- any found whatever. He had eonftantly lefided in the parilli where he was born, was never thirty miles from home, and, fo far as I know, never faw a foreigner. The language he uttered was intelligible to tliofe only-, who had bellowed fome attention upon, * Haud equidem credo, quia fit divinitus iliis Ingenium, aut rcrum fato prudcntia major : Verum, ubi temperas et ccjeli mobilis liumor Alutavcre vias, et Jupiter humidus auflris Denfat crant quae rara modo, et qua denfa reI:lxa^, . Vertuntur fpecies animoium, et pcJlora motus i Nunc alios, alios du:n nubila ventus agebat, Concipiunt. Hinc ilie avium conceiitus in agris, Et la.-tx pccudes, et ovantes gutture corvi, Georglc. i. f i 238 THE THEORY Part I. it ; and he himfelf underftood no other. It was made up, partly of Englifti or Scotch words, moft of them much altered, and partly of other words that were altogether his own. Of the former clafs, I remember, that his ufual affirmation was trot, probably cor- rupted from troth ; corn was tora j come was turn j and inftead of fohlier he faid j}:oIta. Of the latter fort may be reckoned, odee, fignifying ^W; blava, evil; vv'rup, a duck; raad, vehe7nently \ Jurriy to cut, or kill ; plode, a tna'n ; pitoot, a gentleman. As he had little knowledge but what belonged to the bufinei's of a la- bourer, his ideas were few, and his language very defeftive j con- iifting chiefly of nouns, adie6lives, and verbs, with fbme adverbs : his words had no infieilion : and I think he uled neither articles, nor conjuncfions, and fcarce any pronouns. He looked fleadily in the face of thofe who fpoke to him, and feemed to gather the meaning, by fight, from the motion of their lips. Though I was then very young, I had great curiofity to know the hiftory of liis early years : but could never learn more than this ; that there was nothing remarkable in it ; and that his father, and mother, and all 'his relations and neighbours, fpoke like other people.— It feems probable, that he had never heard very acutely, b Lit did not become quite deaf till he was four or five years old : the confequence of which would be, his retaining feme words im- perfeftly, and forgetting many others. For, if he had from his birth been as deaf as'when I knew him, he never could have fpoken at all : if he had been under that age when he lofl: his hearing, he could hardly have articulated the letter R fo diftindly as he did : and if he had been much older, he would no doubt have remem- bered more of his mother tongue. The peculiar formation of his own words it is impoiTible to account for, unlefs wc were better in formed in regard to his infancy and education. All his fyllables wj re eafily pronounced; he had little emphafis, and no accent, S nor Chap. I. OF LANGUAGE. 259 nor any diphthongal founds : and his aiticulations were ])eif()rmcd by the lips, the tongue, and the palate, being fcldom nafal, -and, I think, never guttiual. lie was a cheaiful, fober, honeftmani and ri)oke reverently of the Supreme Being, by a name, vvhich, though I have not forgotten, I do not chufe to fet down. * — Thefe fads, thougli httle can be inferred from them, are not un- worthy of notice. We fpeak, in order to communicate our thoughts to one an- other; which our focial affedions incline us powerfully to do: and the pra6lice of f})Laking improves our natural faculty of fej^a- rating, arranging, and comparing our ideas. I call that faculty natural, and confider it as the foundation of the art of fpeech ; for, without it, though fome animals might be fo taught, or a.. machine fo confl:ru6ted, as to articulate words, it would be im- pofTible to fpeak rationally, or with intelligence. As what pafles in niy/nind cannot itfelf appe:ir to another man,, it mult be imparted, (if at all imparted) by means ofjigns, or outward aflions obvious to fenfe. And they, as expreflive of hu- man thought, may be divided into Natural and Artificial. The Natural Signs of thought are thofe changes in the com- plexion, eyes, features, and attitude, and thofe peculiar tones of * Biihop Burnet gives 2 fimilar infrance of M. Godet's daughter of Geneva; who at the 3ge of two years loft her hearing, and never afier could hear wliat was faid to her; thougli Ihe was not wholly inrenfiLle to great noifes. By obferving the motions- of the mouth and lips of others, file had acquired fo many words, tliat out of thefe flie had fornirc! a fort of jargon, in v/hic!i ftie could hold convcrfation whole days with thofe who could fpeak her language. Siie knew notiiing that was faid to her, uniefs (he faw the motion of their mouths who fpoke; fo that in the night they were obrt-ed to light c-ndlcs, wh'jn they wanted to fpeak to her. She had a filler, with whom (he had praclifed her language more than witli any body elfe : and, wliat is ftrangc, though not unaccountable, by laying her hand, in the dark, on her li|;s and face, (he could- perceive by their motion what was faid, and fo could difcourfe witli her in t!ie dark. Burnet, Letter iv. page 24S. the z^o T H E T H E O R Y Part I. the voice, wliieh all men know to be fignificant of certain pafTions and fentiments. Thus Anger, Joy, Sorrow, Hope, Fear, Scorn, Contentment, Pity, Admiration, when under no reflraint, appear ki the voice, looks, and behaviour : and the appearance is every where underftood, either by a natural inflinft ; or by our having learned experimentally, that a certain fign accompanies, and indi- cates, a certain feeling, or idea. And that this kind of figns admits of confiderable variety, is evident, not only from the pan- tomime, in which the whole progrefs of a dramatick fable is repre- fented in dumb fliow, and by natural figns onlyj but alfo from the manifold expreflions of human thought, which are exhibited to the eye by painters and ftatuaries. Yet, when compared with the endlefs variety of our ideas, thefe natural figns will appear to "be but few. And many thoughts there are, in the mind of every man, which produce no fcnfible alteration in the body. Artificial Signs, or Language, have, therefore, been employed •univerfally for the purpofe of communicating thought; and are found fo convenient, as to have fuperfeded in a great meafure, at lead in many nations, the ufe of the Natural Yet, where lan- guage lias been little improved, as among llivages, and is ofcourfe defective in clearnefs and energy, it is for the mod part enforced by looks, geftures, and voices, naturally fignificant : and even fome polite nations, the French for example, from an inborn viva- city, or acquired reftlefncfs, accompany their fpeech with innume- rable geftures, in order to make it the more emphatical ; while •people of a graver turn, like the Englifli and Spaniards, and who liave words for all their ideas, truft to language alone for a full declaration of their mind, and fc:Idom have recourfe to gefticula- -^ ^| — : to ALimire oi tht treble — n^- i?— - . which is no extraordinary compafs being only two 0(51aves and oncgreat tone. Let him take his fundamental note from the tliird Hring of the violoncello, and fing two octaves. Then let the inftrument be tuned one comma (or the ninth part of a great tone) higher, and Jet him take his funda- mental note, and fing two o£laves, as before: and fo proceed, raifing the tone of the inflrument in the fame proportion, and finging two odaves accordingly, till the found of the Aring be nine commas, or one great tone, higher than it was at the firft. In this way he fings fixteen odaves, every one of which is in every note different from the reft. Now in fixteen different odlavcs there are one hundred and twenty different tones, wiiich are all founded by the voice of him who makes this experiment ; in the courfe of which, the diameter of his glottis, though no more than one tenth of an inch, muft Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 251 will be found to hold tiuc of any niiifical voice of tolerable voIubiUty and compafs. And if fo, we need not wonder, that the bcfl: fingers fliould often fail in the command of their voice. The fibres that minifler to motions fo exceedingly minute mufl: themfelvcs be very delicate ; and therefore liable to be affe6led by the ftate of the air, and of the flomach, the general habit of the body, the emotions of the mind, and a thoufand other circumftanccs. When we fing the notes of a tunc without applying fyllables, we ufe and vary our voice without articulation, and our vocal organs perform no other part than that of a wind inftrument of mufick. Speech is made up of articulate voices : and what we call Articulation is performed, not by the lungs, windpipe, or larynx, but by the a61:ion of the throat, palate, teeth, tongue, lips, and noflrils. Yet, in fpeaking with accent *, the membranes of the glottis muft be continually employed in contrafting and dilating themfelves ; becaufe, as will be obferved hereafter, the voice is then continually rifing and falling in its tone : and, in fpeaking with emphafis*, the lungs are continually employed, not only in fupply- ing that breath of which the voice is made, but alfo in emitting it fometimes with more and fometimes with lefs force ; becaufe, as wnll aj)pear by and by, the voice is then continually varying its energy in ]efpe6t of flrength and foftnefs. — Speech is articulated voice : Whifpering is articulated breath. Articulation begins not, till the breath, or voice, has pafTed through the larynx. The fimpleft articulate voices are thofe which proceed from an open mouth, and are by Grammarians called Vocal murt have undergone one hundred and twenty diftincl variations. So tliat, if an inch wore divided into twelve hundred parts, the diviiions would not be more minute than thofe variations are, which in the cafe fuppofed would affect the:diameter of the human glottis. * See the fourth and Jifth chapters. K k 2 ■ oi 252 THE THEORY Part I. or Vowel founds. In tranfmitting thefe, the aperture of the mouth may be pretty large, or fomewhat fmaller, or very fmall : which is one caufe of the variety of vowels -, a particular found being pro- duced by each particular aperture. Moreover, in pafling through an open mouth, the voice may be gently a£led upon, by the lips ; or by the tongue and palate -, or by the tongue and throat : whence another fource of variety in vowel founds. Thus nine fimple vowels may be formed -, which Wallls, in his excellent Grammar, endeavours to prove are all heard in the Englifli language, though we have not nine vowel letters to exprefs them. But Dr. Kenrick, in the preface to his Rhetorical Di6lionary, fliows, that the number of our fimple vowel founds is eleven *. Perhaps the pronunciation of Englifh may have changed a little fince the time of Wallis, who flouriflied an hundred and thirty- years ago ; and there may be vowel founds in it now, which were not in it then. This will not feem an extravagant fuppofition, when it is confidered, that Wallis gives the fame found to the vowel in lamb and dame, which are now pronounced differently; makes the vowel found in mufc fimple, which is now diphthongal • and informs us, that fome old people in his time retained fo much of Chaucer's pronunciation, as to fay hous} and hone, articulating in thefe and the like words the final e -|-, which is now invariably mute. In other tongues there may be firnple vowel founds quite different * Thefe eleven founds are, according to Kenrick, as follows. Numb. i. Cur, Sir, Her, Monk, Blood.— 2. Bull, Wolf, Pu(h.— 3. Pool, Troop.— 4. Oft, Soft, George. —5. What, Was, War. — 6. No, Foe, Beau. — 7. Hard, Part, Laugh, Heart.— 8. And, Hat, Bar. — 9. Bay, They, Fail, Tale, Great, Dale, Vale. — 10. Met, Sweat, Head, Bread, Realm, Ready. — 11. Fit, Guilt, Englilh. — But are not the vowels Number 3 and 3, the fame in the found, and different only in ;he quantity ; the former fhort, ^d the latter long ? If this be granted, our fimple vowel founds are reduced to Ten, •(■ This i> ftill done by the vulgar in Scotland ; but the words fo pronounced are dimi- nutives. Tin s house is a fmall houfe, hone a little horfe. They alfo fay, Manniey Cumie, Staffie, &c. meaning a little man, a little gun, a little Aaff. 6 from Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 253 from ours. Siicli is tluit of the French u -, which is not heard in England, or in the North of Scotland; but in all the lowland provinces of North Britain, from the Grampian mountains to the Tweed, is ftill in very frequent ufc. When the voice, in its paffage through the mouth, is totally- intercepted, or fbrongly compreflbd, there is formed a certain modi- fication of articulate found, which, as expreffed by a character in writing, is called a Confonant. Silence is the effcd of a total inter- ception ; and indiflincl found, of a ftrong compreflion : and there- fore a confonant is not of itfelf a diftinft articulate voice; and its influence in varying the tones of language is not clearly perceived, unlefs it be accompanied by an opening of the mouth, that is, by a vowel. — The confonants that proceed from an ijiterception of the voice, are called Claufce or Clofe by Wallis ; who very ingenioufly divides them into clafies, upon the following principle. The human voice, in paffing through the mouth, may be inter- cepted, by the lips, or by the tongue and palate, or by the tongua and throat : and each of th' fe interceptions may happen, when the voice is dire6led to go out by the mouth only; or through the noftrils only ; or partly through the mouth, and partly through.: the nofe. Thus, if the voice, dire6led to the mouth only, be totally inter- cepted by the lips, we articulate what is exprefled by the letter Pj if by the tongue and palate, T ; if by the tongue and throat, K. Thefe three confonants are properly called mutes; becaufe thefe interceptions, unlefs preceded or followed by a vowel, produce abfolute fiLjnce. Again ; if the voice, dire<5led to go forth, partly through the mouth, and partly throui^h the nofe, be totally intercepted by the lips, we form tue found expreiied by B ; if by the tongue and. palate, D ; if by the tongue and throat, the fimple found of G, as^ it 2^4 T H E T H E O R Y Part I. it is heard in the word go. This triad of confonants are called Smi-mutes j becaufe without the afliftance of any vowel they pro- duce a faint found, which continues for a Uttle time, and feems partly to pafs out by the nofe, and partly to reverberate from the roof of the mouth. And hence, when the nofe is (hut, it is not eafy for us to give them a diftin6t utterance. Further ; while the voice is pafling out by the noftrils chiefly, if the li{)s be clofed, we hear tlie found of M ; if the forepart of the tongue be appUed to the palate, N is formed ; and if the tongue be drawn a little backward towards the throat, we produce the final found of the words ^Jw^, ring, long, Sec. Thefe are called Semi- vowels; becaufe of themfelves, and without the aid of any vowel, they make a found which is not very indiftinift, and may be continued as long as we pleafe. If, while we are founding them, we fuddenly fliut our nofe, the found ceafes entirely j which is a proof, that it goes out by the noftrils. And if we attempt to articulate them, . after having firft fhut our nofe, the founds produced will refemble B, D, and G, more than M, N, and ING; a proof, that, in thefe two claifes of confonants, the mode of interception is almoft, if not altogether, the fame. With the fame difpofitions of the organs, and the fame modes of emitting the breath, if the voice be not totally intercepted, but Jlrongly comprefj'ed in its pafTage, there is formed a fecond order of confonants, called by Wallis Apertd; or Open ; and which are indeed the afpirations of the mutes and fcmi-mutes. For the femi- vowels, if they could be afpirated, would, in our author's opinion, become Groans or Lowings, rather than articulate voices. And yet perhaps in fome languages they may be afpirated, though they are not in ours. Thus, if, in pz"onouncing P, or rather //», we permit the breath to pafs out with fome difficulty between our lips, we form that found Chnp. If. O F L A N G U A G E. 2^5 /blind of F which is heard in off'. And, in the fame nnanner, from B are formed V (or that found of F which is heard in of) when the aperture of the hjis is fmall and oblong ; and W, when that aperture approaches to the circular form. So from T, if the breath is allowed to pafs between the tongue and the teeth, we derive that found of th which is heard in the word think: from which if the tongue is drawn a little backwards, and the breath palfes with a kind of whiftling found between it and the palate, we articulate S. And, by the fame procefs, we change D, firft, into that found of Th which is heard in Thine ; and fscondly, into Z, or that found of the letter S, which is heard in mans, laws., pleafe, &c. — Thefe two founds of Th^ which are fo common in our tongue, and give us no trouble, are of moft difficult acquifitiou to foreigners * : a proof, that fimple and eafy articulations may be very laborious to thofe, who have not been ufed to them in infancy : — adeo in teneris confucfcere multum eft. In pronouncing S, if we draw the point of the tongue a little backwards, we change the confonant into the final found of the word blujl:) ; which, though we mark it in writing by two letters Sh, is as fimple a found as that of S. — In the fame manner; namely, by drawing the point of the tongue a little backwards while we articulate Z, we form the fimple found of the French J ; which, according to the analogy of our alphabet, would be exprefled by the letters Zh. This found in its fimple form, is heard in 'vifion, Afia, derjfon, evqfion, &c. : and makes the laft part of the complex found of the foft G, as it is heard in gem ; which complex found, if I miftake not, might be refolved into dzh. * " I have feen," fays Sir David Dalrymple, " P. Wefl*eling, the editor of Diodorus *• Slculus, diftort liis face into convulfions, while atrempting-.to exprefs the juft found " of a Greek Tttti." Annak of Scotland, vol. i. page 5. « The 256 THE THEORY Parti. The liquids L and R are acknowledged by Wallis to be anoma- lous. He is inclined to derive them from D and N. He mentions a tribe of American Indians adjoining to New England, who can- not articulate R or L ; but, when they attempt either, fall into N, and inflead of lobjler fay nobfien * ; and we know, that R is one of the iaft letters which European infants learn to pronounce, and that they are apt to ufe L in its Head, From all which we may gather, that the liquids N, L, and R, bear a clofe affinity one with another. If, while we articulate K, we let our breath pafs with a pretty ftrong compreffion between the middle of the tongue and throat, there is formed that guttural found, which in Scotland (where it is very common) is fuppofed to exprefs the Greek X, and in the vulgar diale6t of that country is annexed to the letters gh in the words might, light, bright, figh, &c. In the fam€ manner, by per- mitting the fimple found of G, as it is heard in go, to efcape from between the tongue and throat, in the form of an afpiration, we pronounce another guttural, not unlike the former, which in Scot- land makes the final found of the word lough or loch (lake), and in Spanifh expreffes the import of the firft letter of the word 'Juan. Thefe two gutturals were certainly heard in the Anglo-Saxon (or one of them at leaft), but have been long difufed in South Britain; and an Englifhman finds it difficult to pronounce them ; though to Scotchmen^ who are inured to them from infancy, nothing is more eafy. The found of the confonant Y (as \\\ year, yes, &:c.) is alfo con- fidered by Wallis as an afpiration of the fimple G, formed by a large and fudden aperture of the organs ; but I am not entirely latisfied that this is the cafe. — In fome other refpeds, his fyftem * I have met with two perfons, natives of Scotland, who did the fame. may Chap. ir. O F L A N G U A G E. 25;^ may perhaps be exceptionable : but, as it is ingenious and fimple, and in many particulars true, I thought a brief account of it, inter- fperfed with additional remarks, would give an idea of the manner in which the articulations of language are formed. And now, we may afcertain the exa6t number of fimple elemen- tary founds, which arc heard in the language of England. Sup- pofing H to mark, not an articulate voice, but only a breathing, (which is allowed by moft grammarians to be its character) there will be found in the Englifli tongue the following fimple confo7ia?if founds. I. B, as in ebb. 2. D, as in deed. 3. F, as in off. 4. V, as in of, love, velvet. 5. G, as in egg. 6. K, as in cook. 7. L, as in bell. 8. M, as in ^(.'w. 9. N, as in ««;/. io.V,zs\\\ pope. ii.R, as in err. 12. S, as in afs. 13. Z, as in zeal, laws, as. 14, T, as in //. 15. W, as in war, twang. i6. Y, as in you, yes, year. 17. ING, as in king. 18. SH, as in ap. 19. TH, as in thumb. 20. TH, as in then, though, this. 21. ZH, as in the French pro- noun yV; as in vifion, derifion, &C; and as in the final found of the complex confonant G, which is heard in the words age, gem* George, and which, as obferved already, may be refolved into dzh. Of our other confonants, C is fuperfluous in both founds, the one being exprefled by K, and the other by S ; G, in the foft pro- nunciation, is not a fimple, but a complex found ; J is unneceffary, becaufe its found, and that of the foft G, are in our language the fame; Q, with its attendant U, is either complex, and refolvabic into Kw, as in quality, or unneceffary, becaufe its found is the fame with K, as in opaque -, X is compounded of gs, as in exacl, example, or of ks, as in exercife, Alexander \ PH is fuperfluous, becaufe F gives the fame found ; and CH is either compounded of tj}) as in church, or fimple, in which cafe it is fuperfluous, be- ing, the fame with K, as in chokr, chyle, archangel, chara5lcr, Jiomach. L 1 Some 255 THE THEORY Part I. Some think, that our T'and/^Fare always vowel founds, and that the one might be expreffed by /, and the other by U. If this be admitted, the number of our firaple confonants is reduced to nineteen. But this I thmk is a miftake. — It is true, that /is fome-- tiines pronounced fike the confonant Y, as in the laft fyllable of c?iio!i, opinion, William; and Y hke I, as at the end of a word, and when it follow^s a confonant, as in liberty, my, thy, chyle. It is alfo true, that in perfuade, fuavity, and fome other words, the u has the exa6l found of wj and that, in the end of fome diph- thongal fyllables, the confonant w is put improperly for the vowel u-, as in Jleii), view, &c. — But, on the other hand, when we articulate the confonant y, as in yoke, we begin, not with a vowel found refembliug i ox e, but with a ipringy feparation of the tongue from the palate, v\iliich opens a palfage to a compreffed or intercepted voice, and is, in the judgment of Walhs, an afpiration of the fnnple G. And, in pronouncing war, we begin, in like manner, not with an open mouth, or vowel found like u or oo, but with ieparating, by a wide and circular aperture, thofe organs which, if they had remained in clofe contacl, would have articulated the confonant B. — Befides, in analyfmg the found of qu, as above, though I faid, that it might be refolved into kw, I could not have faid that it was refolvable into ku; for this would have implied; that quality (for example) was to be pronounced, not kivality\ which is its real found, but kewaliiy. — To which may be added, that the Italians, who pronounce our vcwel u, both when it is diphtliongal, as in mufe, piutojlo, and when it is fimple, as in puli, rumore, nccello, udire, cannot without difrx;ulty learn to pronounce the Englifh confonant w, which is a proof, that the articulations are different. It appears then, that in the.Englifti tongue there are twenty one fimplc confonant founds j and, according to Dr. Kenrick, there are. Chap. If. OF LANGUAGE. 259 are eleven fimple vowels. So that the elementary founds of our language are no more than thirty two; or, reckoning H an articu- lation, thirty three. In other languages however there may be many others. The French U was already taken notice of. He who ai aculates R in the thro t, and with an afpiration, utteis a found never heard in End nd. but which is a Celtick or Eric word, and in the highlands of Scotland denotes a horfe : and there they call a calf by a name, which I can neither def ribe nor articulate, but which ftems to begin with an afpirated L. In the Scotch dialect there are two gutturals, CH, and GH, which are not in EngJifh; the V\'cich have many peculiar articulations : and if the lan<;uage of the Hu- rons be, as is faid, wholly guttural, its elementary founds muft be very unlike thole of the European tongues. L 1 2 CHAP. 26o THE THEORY Parti, CHAP. III. the Alphabet imperfeEl^ and Spelling irregular ; hut neither ought to be altered: — Fronunciation cannot be the Jlandard of Orthogra^ phy. — Of teaching the Deaftofpeak. — Of DiphthongSy Syllables y Words. — Of long and fiort words. IN order to be perfe6l, the Englifli alphabet ought, therefore, to confift of thirty three letters ; namely, eleven vowels, and twenty two confonants : for, H, whether the fymbol of a voice, or of a breathing, cannot be difpenfed with, becaufe in many words affeding the pronunciation. But it may be doubted, whether there ever was an alphabet fo perfe£l, as to contain chara6lers adapted to all the elementary founds of a language, and not one more or fewer. In moil alphabets, perhaps in all, there are both defects and fuperfluities. Thus, in Enghfh, .C> X, and Qjire unneceflary ; and 'we have no fingle charader to mark the fimple confonant founds ufually exprelled by TH, SH, and NG. .Our alphabet of vowels is par- ticularly imperfefl 3 three diftinft founds, or perhaps five, being fignified by the firft vowel letter, two or three by the fecond, two by the third, five by the fourth, and two or three by the fifth *. * According to Kenrick, A has five founds, which are heard in the words hat^ hate^ lard, what^ ball: — E has three, as in me, met, her : — I has two, as in thin, thine : — O has five, as in no, not,foft, wolf, monk: — U lias three, as in pull, up, mufe ; which laft, however, is not a fimple vowel, but a diphthongal found. — Y in liberty is a vowel; \n yonder, a confonant; and in by, thy, my, a diphthong. According to John- fon, A has three founds, as in malt, father, pk.e : E has two, as in vie, met: I, two, as above : O, iv/o, as in got, drone : and U, tliree, as above, 5 Hence Chap. m. O F L A N G U A G E; 261 Hence different vowels are often ufed to denote one and the fams found. Thus in cw\ Jir^ her, mo7ik, the fame vowel found is heard, notwithfVnnding the diverfity of the vowel letters : and in many words, vowels are ieen, and confonants too, whicii have no found at all ; as E in houfe, A in realm, the fecond O in hoiiour^ UGH in though, G in gtwtnon, K in knowledge, W in know, blow, &c. To whicli I may add, that fome of our diphthongs are marked by fingle vowels, as in the words, mufe, tnind, chyle, by ; and that we often ufe two vowel letters to fignify a fimple vowel found, as in head, blood, good, &c. But thefe and the like im- perfedions are not peculiar to Englilh, but obtain more or lefs in all the tongues of Europe, and probably in all written languages whatever. . Nor is there any thing wonderful in this. There are not In Great Britain two provinces, which do not differ in fome particu- lars of pronunciation -, and in moft countries the modes of fpeech, efpecially while literature is in its infancy, are vague and change- able. Hence, when men begin to v/rite their mother tongue, it may be fuppofed, that they will differ greatly in their fpelling, and in their notions of the powers of the letters : and he, who is in other refpecls the mofl popular, will probably give the law in thefe particulars, however injudicious his fpelHng may be, and however inelegant his pronunciation. Then, a laudable regard to old au- thors, and to etymology, and a defire to fix the language, will de- termine fucceeding writers to retain the old fpelling, even when the pronunciation has become different. Thus, the final E in houfe, horfe, &c. which was certainly pronounced in the age of Chaucer, and not wholly difufed in that of Wallis, we ftill retain in writing, though it has been mute for more than a century. Nor have we laid afide the GH in the words, light, bright, figh, though. Sec, (which was alfo pronounced in the antient language) notwithfland- :d(32. THE THEORY Part I. •incj that the guttural is now no more articulated in any part of the Biitifii empire, except Scotland. And, in the opinion of our beft grammarians, the words ho7iour, authour, oratour, &c. ought not to lofe the u they have been fo long pollefled of, becaufe they came to us, not from the Latin honor, aiiclor, orator, but from the French honeiir, aitteur, oratmr. Every thing deferves praife, which is done w4th a view to make language duiable; for on the permanency of any tongue depends that of the literature conveyed in it. And if new words, new let- ters, or new modes of fpelling, might be introduced at plealure, language would foon be disfigured and ahered ; the old authors would erelong be laid afide as unint lligible, and the new would be configned to oblivion before their time. Yet feveral attempts were made in the laft century, to alter the fpelling, and even the alphabet, of the Englifh tongue. Sir Thomas Smith, Dr. Gill, and Charles Butler, thought it abfurd to fpeak one way, and write another ; and feem to have founded their refpeftive plans of improvement upon this principle, that pronunciation ought to determine orthography : not confidering that, as Dr. Johnfon well obfei-ves, " this is to meafure by a fliaciow, and take that for a <' model or flandard, which is changing while they apply it." For, according to this rule, pronunciation ought to be uniform throughout the kingdom ; which, however defirable, a^id however eafy it may have appeared to fome projectors, is, I fear, impracti- cable : and the alphabet, or the mode of fpelling, mull: vary con- tinually as the pronunciation varies ; which would be a matter of fuch nicety, as no degree of human wifdom could regulate. Be- fides, reformations of this kind, fuppofed pra(5licable, would obli- terate etymology, and, with that, the remembrance of many old c.uiloms and fentiments, would take away from the figmficancy 6 oi Chap. III. OF LANGUAGE. ^^3 of many important words, and involve in confu/ion both our grammar and our policy. Let the language, therefore, be fixed, as much as poflible, irr the phrafeology, fpclling. and alphabet; even though in all the three refpecls it might have been better than it is. A change in any of them would be dangerous, and produce no other good effeft, than that of making the language now fpoken more eafy to foreigners : for to them, as well as to natives, it would increafd the difficulty of ftudying our hterature in its full extent. — It may be faid, indeed, that all cur good authors might be tranfcribed or tranflated into the fafliionable letters and fyllables. But this could not be. We have no criterion, univerfally acknowledged, for di- ftinguifhing good authors from bad : we have no laws to warrant the annihilation of property in books and manufcripts : nor is it in the power of lawgivers, far lefs of philofophers, to make a whole people renounce the written language of their fathers, wherein thev find no inconvenience, and which is their only fecurity for a great part of their wealth, and adopt in its flead a fyficm of cyphers and fyllables, which they undcrftand not, and of the utility of which they have had no experience*. In a word, our language is the bafis of BritiPn learning, as our' laws are of the Britifli govern- ment : if we value the fuperftructure, let us venerate the founda- tion, to which, if it is not compofed of unfound materials, lengtil of time wiii give more and more flability. By attending to thofe motions of the articulating organs, where- by the elementary founds of language are formed, ingenious mea have contrived the art of teaching the deaf to fpeak. * The emperor Claudius, who though dertkutc of parts was not without ambition, afpired to the honour of introducing three new letters into the Roman alpliabtt. They were in ufe during,his reign ; but, as thehidorianexpreiTes it, were foon after i;/.//'^- W/id'. — qucE ufai imiicritante co, inox obliterate;, &c. Tacit. Annal. lib. xi. 26^ THE THEORY Part I. In order to this, the pupils are firft taught to utter vocal found, and to know when they utter it : which, as an eminent profeflbr of the art informed me, is one of the moft difficult parts of the whole procedure. For, as the fcholar never heard any found, it muft be long before he is made to know what his mafter means when he defires him to exert his voice ; and ftill longer, before he can either do what is defired, or know when, or how, he does it. Internal feeling, and external touch, muft therefore fupply the want of hearing. The voice is accompanied with certain per- ceptible tremors and tenfions of the organs in the mouth and throat : and when the fcholar has long been made attend to thefe, he comes at laft to perceive, by the tangible effects of vocal found, iphen he utters it, and how. The next point is, to inftru6l him in articulation. So far as this is performed by mfible conta6ls or applications of the organs, it is not difficult to conceive, by what fteps he may be led to it. But many articulations depend upon the throat, the inner part of the nofe, and other organs that in fpeaking are not vifible. In regard to thefe, the pupils muft receive information by touch. The mafter articulates a certain found, and defires them to feel the tremors occafioned by it in his nofe, and the adjoining parts; and then, after laying their hands on the fame part of their faces, to utter a variety of founds, by way .of trial, till they come to utter that, which produces the fame tremors in their own mouth and noftrils ; giving them, at the fame time, directions for the management of their tongue and lips ; and illuftrating the nature of the found they are in queft of, by that of fome other kindred found wherewith they are already acquainted. And thus, after long time and much labour, they may be taught to articulate moft of the founds that are annexed to the feveral letters of the alpha- bet; Cl.ap. III. OF L A iN G U A G E. 26<5 bet ; and to join articulations together, io as to form fyllablcs and words. But this is not enough. They niujl alfo Icarn to diftinguifli the vocal founds that are uttered by the pcrfon who fpcaks to them. This they cannot do by hearing, for they are deaf; nor by touch, for it would be unfeenily, if they wei'e to handle the nofc, cheeks, and lips, of the fpeaker : it mull: therefore be done by fight. The fpeaker pronounces very flow, making a fliort paufe at the end of each word, and gives a ftronger energy than ufual to the opeiation of every mufcle that feparates or brings together his organs : and the dumb man, looking him ftcadily in the face, which is expofcd to the light, guefTes at his words from the vifibic agitation of the fevei al parts of his countenance. It is obvious, that the acquifition of this talent muft be ex- tremely difficult, the exercife of it mofl laborious, and the words diilinguilhable by it very few. Nor is it pofliblc, perhaps, for a dumb man ever to acquire fuch a readinefs in it as fliall give more pleafure than pain to his company, or be of any real benefit to himfelf. The time, therefore, that is employed by thofe unfortu- nate peifons in this ftudy, might, in my opinion, be more advan- tageoufly laid out, in acquiring the art of drawing, and the know- ledge of written language, whereof they are very capable, together with the ready ufe of a convenient fyftem of vifible figns, or fym- bols, for the communication of thought. It may to fome appear ftrange at firft hearing, that in the whole Englifli tongue there fliould be no more than thirty two fmiple elementary founds. But they, who know any thing of the powers of combined numbers, or who have confidered in how many ways 6ur elementary articulations may be formed into fyiiables and words, will not be furprifed when they are told, that of thefe thirty two founds hundreds of languages mi^ht be compofed, M m .equally 266 THE THEORY Pait I. equally copious with the Englifli, and all different from one another. One of the fimpleft combinations in language is the Diphthong : which is formed, when two contiguous vowel founds coalefce in fuch a manner, as that, though they form but one fyllable, the found of both, or at leaft a double found, is diftm6lly heard) a? oy mjoy, ow in cow, iii m Juice. A diphthong is fometimes marked by three letters, as eau in beauty^ ieu in lieu ; and fometimes by one vowel letter, as ii in mufe, i- in }}2ind, y \njlyle : but it derives its name, and nature, from its found, and not from its letters : for the word diphthojig denotes a double vowel' found ; and whatever marks the coalition of two diftin6t vowel founds, whether it be two letters, or three, or one, is really the mark of a diphthong. And when a monophthong, or fimple vowel found, is marked by two vowel letters, as go in good, ea in bread; or by three, as eau in beau ; the combination is not a diphthong, though it may be called a double or treble vowel. Grammarians, indeed, fpeak of triphthongs, or three monoph- thongal founds coalefcing in one fyllable ; and give eye and beau as examples. But, notwithllandhig the number of the letters, eye is as much a diphthong as / in mind., or as our affirmative particle ay, (though in pronouncing the latter a peculiar ilrefs is laid upon the found of the firft vowel) ; and eau in beau is as truly a monophthong, as the interjedion O. — Some triphthongs, however, there are ia Englifh, though but few ; and thofe, I think, are marked by a fingle vowel letter. Such are the founds annexed to the vowels in the words Jky zwAkind: in which, the diphthong exprefled by_y in the one, and / in the other, is apparently introduced, in pronunciation, with fomething of the found of the Engli.fli e as heard in the words hcy fae, be. And Chap. III. OF LANGUAGE. 2^7 And here I mufl: take notice of a flight inaccuracy, wliich many Grammarians both Latin and Englifh have fallen into. The former tell us, and indeed with truth, that x and oc are dij)h- thongs, and yet in fpeaking Latin make them Ample vowel founds: and the latter refer to the clafs of diphthongs 00 mgood, ea in head, bread, realm, and ai in vain, plain, &c ; though the pronunciation, of thcfe is as truly monophthongal, or fimplc, as that of a in pull; e in bed, bred, helm; and a in plane, vane. In this particular, therefore, the Latin grammarian ought to reform his pronun- ciation ; and the Englifli, his account of the diphthong. For, that the Romans pronounced aj and tyt as double vowel founds ; the firft fimilar to our affirmative particle ay, and the laft not unlike otin voice, cannot, 1 think, be doubted. The firft is ronielirnss refolved, by their beft verfifiers Lucretius and Virgil, into two fyl- lables, materia into matcridi, aula into auldi; which I prcfume would not have been done, if the found had been, as we make it, perfe6tly monophthongal. Nor, if they had pronounced Ccefar, as we do, Cefar or Kefar, is it to be imagined that the Greeks would have exprefled the vowel found of the firfl fyllable of that name by two vowel letters Kaifar. Nor would the Romans have transformed the Greek * poine into pcena, or -}- Philopcimen into Philopcemen, if they had not pronounced ^r as a diphthong. But this by the by. Confonants, by being joined to confonants, produce many com- binations of articulate found ; and Ample vowels, and diphthongs, jnay be joined to fmgle, or double, or treble confonants ; and thus an endlefs variety of fyllables may be formed : and a fyllable may be joined to other fyllables, or ftand by itfelf, fo as to form fliort or long words ; and each vowel found may be long, or fliort, and vary M m 2 the 268 THE THEORY Part I. the import of the fyllable accordingly. So that, though the num- ber of elementary founds is not great in any language, the variety of pojjible words, that may be formed by combining them, is in every language fo great, as almoft to exceed computation," and much more than fafRcient to exprefs all the varieties of human thought. But the real words, even of the moft copious language, may without difficulty be numbered; for a good dictionary comprehends them all. In the Englifh tongue, after deducing proper names, and the infle6lions of our verbs and nouns, I have reafon to think, that they do not exceed forty thoufand. We muft not, however, eftimate the number of our ideas by that of our words ; the former being beyond comparifon more diverfified than the latter. Many thoughts we exprefs, not by particular terms appropriated to each, but by a periphrafis, or combination of terms, which under different forms of arrange- ment and connexion may be applied to a great variety of different purpofes ; and many thoughts arc communicated in tropes and fio-ures ; and many may fometimes be fignified by one and the fame word. There are few terms in language that have not more than one meaning; fome have feveral, and Ibme a great number. In how many different ways, and to how many different purpofes, may the verbs do^ lie, lay, and take, (for example) be applied ! Johnfon's Dictionary will fhow this, and much more of the lame kind; and leave the reader equally aftonifhed at the acutenefs of the lexicogra- pher, and at the complex nature and ufe of certain minute parts of human fpeech. Even of our prepofitions (as will be obferved hereafter) one has upwards of twelve, one more than twenty, and one no fewer than thirty different meanings. And yet, when we underftand a language, we are not fenlible of any perplexity arifmg from tiiefe cii'cumftances : all ambiguities of fcnfe being, in a correal Chap. III. OF LANGUAGE. 269 correal ftyle, prevented by what Horace calls Callida juncJura, that is, by a right arrangement of the words, and other artifices of compofition. The quantity of diftin6t fpeech that we pronounce with one effort of the articulating organs is called afyl/able. In every fyllable there muft be one vowel found at leaft; becaufe without an open- ing of the mouth there can be no dillinfl articulation. A fyllable may be a fingle vowel, as a, ; or a fmgle diphthong, as ay, oi; or either of thcfc modified by one or more confonants, placed before it, or after it, or on both fides of it : — as to, of; boy, cvl; dog, foil; dry, art ; fwft, broils, Jlrength. Language is made up of words j and words are the finalleft divi- fions of fpeech that have fignification. Syllables, as fuch, have no meaning ; for a fignificant fyllable is a word. Every word means fomething, either of itfelf, or as joined to other words; and words derive their meaning from the confent and practice of thofe who ufe them. If oiie were to contrive a new language, one might make any articulate found the figa of any idea : there wuuld be no impro- priety in calling oxen men, or rational beings by the name of oxen.- But where a language is already formed, they who fpeak it muft ufe words in the cuitomaiy fenfe. By doing otherwife, they incur the charge, either of afi'cdation, if they mean only to be remarkable,, orof falfehood, if they mean to deceive. To fpeak as others fpeak,. is one of thofe tacit obligations, annexed to the condition of living, in focietv, which we are bound in confcience to fulfil, thouo;h we have never ratified them by any exprefs promifej becaufe, if they were difregarded, focicty would be impolTible, and human happinefs at an end. It is true, that, in a book of fcience founded on definit'on, words may be ufed in- any fenfe, provided their meaning be ex- plained : in this cafe there is no falfehood, becaufe there is no intention i'jo THE THEORY Part I. intention to deceive : but, even in this cafe, if the common analogies of language were violated, the author would be juftly blamed for giving unneceiiary trouble to his readers, and for endeavouring capricioufly to abrogate a cuftom, which univerfal life had rendered more refpeclable, as well as more convenienl, than any other that he could fuhftitute in its room. A word may be a fingle fyllable; or it may confift of two, or of feveral fyllables. Hence, in refpeft of length, as well as of found, words admit of great variety. Some have faid, that the words of barbarous nations are very long ; and that, as moft nations have at one time or othei' been barbarous, moft primitive tongues in their uncultivated flate are remarkable for the extraordinary length of their words ; but that, by refinement, and practice in /peaking and writing, thefe come in •time to be abridged, and made more manageable. And it cannot be denied, that into common difcourfe abbreviations of words are gradually introduced, which were not at firft in the language. — But we find, that the radical words of antient tongues are rather fhort than long. This is true of the Hebr<^w, and is faid to be •true of the Chinefe. In the Greek and Latin, though fome in- fie6lions of compound verbs flioot out to a great length, the pri- mitive verbs, nouns, pronouns, and the moft elTential particles, are comparatively ftiort. -Of the EngUfli too it has been obferved, that its fundamental worng"r languifli, For nought can cure my angnifli. ,4. The fourth form is made up of four iambufes, with fomc- .times an additional fyllable, which gives a pleafing variety. Or whether, as fome fag;s fing, The frolick wind, that breathes the Spring, Young Zephyr with Aurora playing, &c. This meafure, which we ufe both in burlefque and in ferious poetry, is tlie fame with the lambick Dimeter of the antients ; whereof, in its pureft form, this is an example : Inarfit aeftuofiils. 5. The fifth fpecies of Englifh lambick is no other than our common meafure for heroick poetry and tragedy. In its pureft, or fimpleft, form it confilts of five iambufes : The dumb fliall fing, th. lune hTs crutch forego, but, by the admiffion of otb.er feet, as trochees, da6lyls, and anapefts, is capable of more than thirty varieties. Indeed, moftof our common meafures may be varied in the fame way, as well as by the different polition of their paufes. And fuch varieties, when ikilfully introduced, give wonderful energy to Englifh, Greek, and Latin numbers ; and have, for this reafon, been ftudioufly fought after by Homer, Virgil, Milton, Dryden, and all other harmoni- ous poets : variety being the foul of harmony, and nothing In lan- guage or in mufick more tirefo.ne to the ear than an uniform fanie- nefs of found and meafure. — Our hejoick verCe is fometimes lengthened out by an additional fhort fyllable, and then becomes nearly the fame with that of the modern Italians. 'Tis heaven itfelf that points out an hereafter. — Che '1 gran fepolchro libero di Chrifto. But in Englilh, this is more common in blank verfe, than in rhime j and in tragedy, than in the epick or didactick poem ; and among tragedians it is lefs fafliionable now, than it was formerly. 6. The Chnp. IV. or LANGUAGE. 287 6. The fixth form of our lambick is commonly called the Alexandrine meafuic; becaufe, fay the criticks, (but on what au- thority I know not) it was firft ufed in a poem called Alexander. It confifts of fix iambufesi. For thou arc biit of dufl -, bo humble, and bj wife. It is introduced fometim?s in heroick rhimc ; and, when fparingly, and with judgment, occafions an agreeable variety. Waller was fmooth ; but Dryden taught to join The varying verfe, the full refounding line. The long majeftick march, and enei-gy divine. Spenfer makes it the laft line of his great flanza ; where indeed ft has a very happy effcft. By the fame artifice, Milton gives fuper- lative elevation to fome of his flanzas on the Nativity : But firft to thofe ychain'd in fleep The wakeful trump of doom lliall thunder through the deep. and Gray, to the endings of his Pindarick meafures. This vcrfc is generally pleafing, when it concludes, a poetical fentence of dignity: as where the aged champion in Dryden's Virgil refigns his arms, with a refolution not to refume them any more: Take the laft gift thefe wither'd aims can yield. Thy gauntlets I refign, and here renounce tlie field. In meafure and number of feet it is the fame with the pure lambick trimeter of the Greeks and Romans -, of which every, fecond line of the fixteenth epode of Horace is an example : SuTs ct Tpfii Roma vTiibi.s ruit. Some criticks confound our Alexandrine with the French heroick verfe. But the latter, though it foraetipxies contains the fame num--^ ber of fyllablcs, is not lambick at all, but rather Anapeftick, . having for the moft part two ihort for one long fyllable, and in rhythm correfpouds nearly to the following : Now 5,33 T H E T H E R Y Part L Now fee, vvlien they meet, how their honours behave : Noble captain, your fervant : Sir Arthur, your flave. Pray how does my lady ? My wife's at your fervice. I think I have feen her pifture by Jervis. The Alexandrine, like other Englifli lambicks, may occafionally take ' an additional ihort fyllable : With freedom by my fide, and foft-eyed Melancholy. 7. The feventh and laft form of our lambick meafure is made up ■of feven iambufes : The Lord dcfcendcd from above, and bow'd the heavens IiTgh, which was andently written in one line; but is now for the moil part broken into two, the fii"fl containing four feet, and the fecond three. Chapman's tranflatioii of Homer's Iliad is the longefl work I have feen in this meafure. It is now confidered as a Lyrick verfe ; and is very popular, and indeed very pleafmg. Ilf. The lliortefl Trochaick verfe in our language is that ufed by Swift in a burlefquc poem called a Lilliputian Ode, confiiling of one trochee and a long fyllable. In anuze Loft I gaze. This meafure is totally void of dignity, and cannot be ufcd on any ferious occafion. I am therefore furprifed, that Brown, in his excellent ode on the Cure of Saul, fliould have adopted it in a fpeech afcribed to the Supreme Being: Tumult ceafe. Sink to peace. 2. The fecond Engiifli form of the pure Trochaick conflfts of two £eet, and is likewife too brief for any ferious purpofe 3 On the mountain. By a fountain : or of two feet and an additional long fyllable: <4. J;! Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E, feiSg In the days of old Stories plainly told Lovers felt annoy. Thefe three lines are from an old ballad : the mcafurc is very •uncommon. 3. The third fpecies confifts of three trochees; When the fcas were roaring, Phyllis lay deploring ; or of three trochees with an additional long fyllable; Thee the voice the dance obey. This is often mixed with the lambick of four feet, and makes an agreeable variety, when judicioufly introduced, as in the Allegro and Penferofo of Milton ; Iamb. But come, thou goddefs fair and free. In heaven ycleped Euphrofyne. Troch. Come, and trip it as you go ; On the light fantaftick toe. 4. The fourth Trochaick fpecies confifts of four trochees : Days of Safe and nights of pleafurc. Which followed alternately by the preceding, forms a beautiful Lyrick verfe, whereof we have a fpecimen in one of the fineft bal- lads in the Englifli language : As near Portobello lying On the gently fwelliing fl5od At midnight with flreamers flying Our triumphant navy rode. It is remarkable, that (as Mr. Weft has fomewhere obferved) the fame meafure occurs in the Greek tragedians, as in this of Eu- ripides : * Profkuno s' anax nomoifi barbaroifi profpe^on. And there is an elegant Latin poem called Pcrvrgilium Veneris, commonly afcribed to Catullus ; of which, allowinii for fome P P varieties THE THEOI^Y Part I. varieties incident to the Latin Trochaick verfe, the meafure is the lame : Ver novum, vcr jam canorum ; vere nubent alifes ; Vere concordant amores ; vere natus orbis eft. With an additional long fyllable, our fourth Trochaick fpecies would be as follows : Idle, after dinner, In hrs chair, Sat a farmer, ruddy, fat, and fair. But this meafure is very uncommon. 5. So is the fifth Trochaick fpecies, confifting of five trochees j whereof I do not remember to have feen a fpecimen in any printed poem. All thit walk on foot or ride in chariots. All that dwell in palaces or garrets. This fort of verfe, with an additional long fyllable, might be thus exemplified : neafant wis the morning, and the tn5nth was May, Colin went to London in his beft array. Some Scotch ballads are in this meafure j but I know not whether 1 have ever {een a fpecimen in Englifh. 6. The fixth form of the pure Englifli Trochaick confifts of fix trochees -, whereof the following couplet is an example : On a mountain ftretch'd beneath a hoary willow Lay a fliepherd fwain, and view'd the rolling billow, which is, I think, the longeft Trochaick line that our language ad- mits of. IV. The fhorteft poffible Anapeftick verfe muft be a fingle anapeft : But Tn vain They complain.. But Chap. IV. O F L A N C U A G E. 491 But this mcafure is ambiguous : for, by laying the cmphafis on the firft and third fyllablcs, we might make it Trochaick. And therefore the firft and fimpleft form of our anapeftick verfe is made up of two anapefts : But his courage gan fall. For no arts could avail. or of two anapeils with an additional fhort fyllable : Then his courage gan fail him. For no arts could avail him. 2. The fccond confifts of three anapefts : With her mien fhe cnamoiirs the brave. With her wit flie engages the free. With her modefty pleafes the grave j She is eveiy way pleafing to me. This is a delightful mcafure, and much ufed in paftoral fongs. Shenftone's ballad in four parts, from which the example is quoted, is an exquifite fpecimcn. So is the Scotch ballad of Tweedfidc, and Rowe's Defpairing bejide a clear Jlream ; which laft is perhaps the fineft love-fong in the world. And that the fame meafure is well fuited to burlefque, appears from the very humourous ballad called Tbe tippling Pbilofophers ; which begins thus, Diogenes furly and proud, &c. — Obferve, that this, like all the other anapeftick forms, often (indeed for the moft part) takes an iambus in the firft: place, DefpiurTng beflde a clear flreatii j and formerly in the firft and third, Grim king of thj ghofts, make hade And bring hither all your train : But this laft variety is unplcafing to a modern ear. — With an additional fliort fyllable it is as follows : Says my uncle, I pray you difcovcr Why you pine and you whine like a lover : P p 2 v/hicli, 292 THE THEORY Part L which, iifed alternately with the preceding, makes the meafure of the witty ballad of Molly Mog, written by Gay, and often imitated. 3. The third form of the pure Englifh anapeftick confifls of four anapefts : At the clofe of the day, when the hamlet is flTll. — . If I live to grow old, as I find I go down. — This meafure, which refembles the French heroick verfe, is com- mon in Englilh fongs and ballads, and other fliort compofitions. both comical and ferious. It admits a fliort fyllable at the end-, On the cold cheek of Death fmiles and rofes are blending : and fometimes alfo between the fecond and third foot, In the morning when f ober, in the evening when mellow : which is the longefl form of the regular Anapeftick in the Engliflt language. To one or other of thefe leven lambick, fix Trochaick, and three Anapeftick, fpecies, every line of Enghfli poetry, if we ex- cept thofe few that are compoled of daftyls, may be reduced. I have given only the fimpleft form of each. The feveral licences or variations, that thefe fimple forms admit of, might be without difficulty enumerated: but 1 cannot at prefent enter into the nice- ties of Englilh profody. Sidney endeavoured to bring in Englifli hexameters, and has given fpecimens of them in the Arcadia. And Wallis, in his gramma/-, tranftates a Latin hexameter. Quid faciam ? mpriar ? et Amyntam perdst Amyntas ?' into an Englifli one, V/hat fhall I do? fhall I die? Iliall Amyntas murder Amyntas? Mr. Walpole, in his catalogue of Royal and- Noble authors, afcribes the following to Queen Elizabeth : Perfius a crab-ftaff, bawdy Martial, Ovid a fine wag. A But Chap, V. OF LANGUAGE. zr,.^ But this fort of veife has never obtained any footing in our poetry: and I think I could prove, from the peculiarities of its rhythm, that it never can. So much for the nature and ufe of Emphasis : which I dividedi into Rhetorical and Syllabic,'': ; fiibdividing the latter into the long- 'voivclL'd emphatick fyllable, which is always long, and the JJjort- "jowelled emphatick fyllable, which, when long, is made fo by tlic complexnefs of the final confonants. CHAP. V. Of Accent. Its nature and ufe. — Standard of Pronunciation,- EMPHASIS is the work of tlie lungs ; but Accent is per- formed by the contraction or dilatation of the glottis. For,, while we fpcak with rmderftanding, our voice is continually vary- ing, not only its emphafis, but alfo its tone, from acute to grave, and from grave to acute. This is Accent. Inaccurate obfervers are not fenfible of it in themfclves, but think they fpeak without any tone ; though at the fame time they allow, that people who come from a diftance have a tone in their fpecch, that is perceptible enough, and not very agreeable. And the flranger complains of their accent in the fame terms, and with equal juftice.. Thus I have heard a man of Edinburgh fay, We have no tone; our voice in fpcaking is uniform, and not more grave, or more- acute at one time, than at another ; but go to Glafgow, and there you will hedr a tone ; or c;o to Aberdeen, and you will hear a tone i\iu: -94 THE THEORY Part 1. fllll more remarkable, though of a different kind. Nay, a Lon- doner, a man of wit and genius, affirmed in my hearing, that the EngUfh fpoken in the metropolis was for this particular reafon the moll elegant, becaufe there, in polite company, the fpeech was unaccented, whereas, in every other part of the Britifli empire, people fpoke with a tone. And a clergyman of "Virginia afTured me very ferioufly, that tlie Enghfh of that province was the befl in the world j and alTigned the fame reafon in favour of the Vir- ginian pronunciation. But every word thefe gentlemen fpoke was to my ear a convincing proof, that they were miflaken. It is true, the North- American Engliili accent is not fo animated, as that of Middlefex, and the adjoining counties ; but it is very perceptible notwithftanding. In facl, thei-e is no fuch thing in language as monotony, or a continuation of the fame note in fpeech, without ever rifmg above, or falling below it. Some children are taught to read in this manner; but their pronunciation is infipid and ridiculous. And though a man, who has a mufical ear, and the command of his voice, might no doubt utter many words without any variation of accent, yet, if he were to fpeak fo in company, he would be fuppofed to have loft his wits. But, if every body fpeak with a tone, why, it may be faid, does not every body perceive his own, as well as his neighbour's .? It may be anfwered, that fome, nay that many, perfons do perceive their own accent ; and that they, who do not, become infenfible of it by habit. We fometimes meet with thofe who have acquired a cuftom of fpeaking very loud, or very low, and yet are not fen- fible, that they fpeak lower or louder than other people. Nay pro- fane fwearers have been heard to affirm with an oath, that they were not fwearing. Our native accent, efpecially if we have never been from home, being continually in our ear, it is no wonder that we {hould not difcern its peculiarities. But let a man, who 8 has Chap. V. OF L A N G U A C E. 295 has been born and bred in Aberdeen, live two or tliiee years iii Edinburgh or London; and he fliall become both infenfible to the tone of the place of his refidcnce, and alfo fcnfible of the accent that adheres to the dialeft of his native town. In England, in Ireland, in the fouth and in the north of Scotland, the people Ipcak dialedls of one and the fame language : and yet it is not difficult to know, by the tone of his voice in fpeaking, even before we hear him fo plainly as to diflinguifh the words, whetiier the fpeaker be of England or of Ireland, a native of Lothian, or of Kincardinefliire, of Aberdeen, or of Inverncfs. And if even, the provincial di'alevfts of the fame tongue are diftingnifliable by their accents, we may with reafon conclude, that the languages of diffe- rent nations will be more remarkably diftinguinicd in this way : which in fa^Sl is found to be the cafe. Of all the nations upon earth, the antient Greeks feem to havTS been the moll: attentive to language. Their own they ftudied, both in the compofition, and in the pronunciation, with extra- ordinary care. The tones of it could not efcape the notice of that fagacious people. In order to make thefe of eafier acquifition to ftrangers, they did what no other nation ever thought of doing, they ufed in writing certain charadlers, flill retained in their books, and called the Greek accents, of which the meaning was, to regu- late the tone of the voice in f[)eech. We know they were invented for this purpofe j though we cannot now make any ufe of them in our pronunciation of the Greek tongue. it has been faid, that the fyllable marked with the acute accent was pronounced four or five notes higher than the non- accented fyllables ; that the grave accent fignified a fall of the voice through the fame interval nearly ; and that the circuinfcx denoted a rife followed by a fall, which, as it took up double the time of a fimple fall or rife, made the fyllable fo accented neceffarily long. ^.96 THE THEORY ~ Pmt I. long. But I am not fatisfiecl with this account : for the paffage quoted by a learned author, from Dionyfius of Hahcarnallus, in proof of it, is very obfcure. At any rate, thefe marks could have jegulated the fyllabick accents only : whereas, with us, accent is more diftinguifhable in the cadence of words and phrafes *, than in fyllables. Be this, however, as it will (for I affirm nothing pofitively in a matter fo little known) it is evident, that the Latin Vk'ord accentns (iVom ad and cantus), and the correfpondent term in Greek -f prosodia, (from pros and ode) muft, in their primitive fignification, have had a reference to fong, or mufical tone, and not (as forae have thought) to thofe energies of the human voice, which are here expreffed by the word Emphafis. But let it be obferved, that though in fpeech the voice is con- tinually varying its tone, and is fometimes more acute, and at other times more grave, it does not, in modern languages at leaft, afcend or defcend, by thofe mufical intervals which are called notes, but rifes and falls by degrees of variation incomparably more minute, and which our mufical language has no terms nor fymbols to * Mr. Sheridan, in thofe elegant Le£l:ures wliich I licard him deliver at Edinburgh nbout twenty years ago, dirtinguiOied (if I rightly remember) the Englilh interroga- tory accent from the Irilh and the Scotch, in this manner. His example was; " How " have you been this great while?" — in pronouncing which, he obferved, that towards the end of the fentence an Englifhman lets liis voice fall, an Irifliman raifes his, and a Scotchman makes his voice firfl fall and tiien rife. 'I'Ik remark is well founded; but it is difficult to exprefs in unexceptionable terms a matter of fo great nicety. I ihall only add, that what is here faid of the Scotch accent, though it may hold true of th.c mere foutherly provinces, is by no means applicable to the dialedts that prevail in A-berdeen(hire, JmJ otlier parts of the north : where the voice of the common people, in concluding a claufi or fenteiice, riles into a very (hrill and iliarp tone with- put any previous fall. " You bark in your fpeech," fays a man of Edinburgh to one of Aberdeen : " And you growl and grumble in yours," replies the Aberdonian. In Inverncfs-fliire, aiid the weftern parts of Moray, the accents become totally different, ?ju3 refcmblc the tones and afpirations of the Erfe. 4- s-foc-i^i;, from TT^^'o- {id, and uh can!:is. exprefs. Chap. V. O F L A N G U A G E. 297 cxprefs. A miifician, founding the firing of a violin by drawing his bow acrofs, and at the fame time making his fingjr fii'.lc up and down the ftring without lifting it, would produce a fort of found fomewhat fimilar, in its ?}iode of rifuig and falling, to thofe varivties of accent which take place in language. An attempt has lately been made by Mr. Steele, to exprefs certain accents of tlic Englidi tongue by a new-invented fort of written chara6lcrs. The work, I hear, is very ingenious j but, as I have not feen it, I can fay nothing more about it. From what has been faid, we may learn, that, as every nation and province has a particular accent, and as no man can fpeak intelligibly without one, we ought not to take offence at the tones of a ftranger, nor give him any groimd to fufpeil, that we arc difpleafed with, or even fenfible of them. However difagrceabic his accent may be to us, ours, it is likely, is equally fo to him. The common rule of equity, therefore, will recommend mutual forbearance in this matter. To fpeak with the Englifn, or with the Scotch, accent, is no more praifeworthy, or blameable, than to be born in England, or Scotland : a circumftance, which, though the ringleaders of fedition, or narrow-minded bigots, may applaud or cenfure, no perfon of fenfe, or common honefty, will ever con- fider as imputable to any man. Are, then, all provincial accents equally good ? By no means. Of accent, as well as of fpelling, fyntax, and idiom, there is a llandard in every polite nation. And, in all thefe particulars, the example of approved authors, and the practice of thofe, who, by their rank, education, and way of life, have had the left oppor- tunities to know men and manners, and domeftick and foreign Jiteralurc, ought undoubtedly to give the law. Now it is in the metropolis of a kingdom, and in the mofl famous fchools of learn- ing, v/here the greateft refort may be expelled of jwrfons adorned C>^q with 298 THE THEORY Parti. with all ufcful and elegant accomplifliments. The language, there-- fore, of the moft learned and polite perfons in London, and the neighbouring Univeifities of Oxford and Cambridge, ought to be accounted the ftandard of the Englifh tongue, efpecially in accent and pronunciation : fyntax, fpelhng, and idiom, having been af- certained by the praflice of Good authors, and the confent of former ages. And there are two reafons for this preference. One is, that we naturally approve as elegant what is cuftomary among our fupe- riours. And another, and a better, reafon is, becaufe the mofV ehhghtcned minds muft be fuppofed to be the beft judges of pro- priety in fpeech, as v/ell as in every other thing that does not affeiSt: the confcience. Tlie ftandard of fpeech being thus afcertained, provincial dialefls are to beconfidered as more or lefs elegant, according as they more or lefs refemble it. And it has been the vi'ifli of many, that the fame modes of language fliould prevail through the whole empire. But this, however defuable, is perhaps impoflible. At leaft there never yet was any inftance of it in an extenfive country. The Greeks themfclves, with all their philological accuracy, had different dialeds: — the apoftle Peter, when at Jerufalem, was known by his fpeech to be a man of Galilee: — Livy has been accufed of pro- vincial idioms, though his native city Padua was but two hundred miles from Rome: — in the fouthern part of this ifland there have long been two diftincl languages, the Englifli and Welch ; and two others in the north, the Scotch and Erfe, which are different from thefe, as well as from one another :. — the dialefts of Lancafliire and Yoiklhire are hardly underftood in London: — even in Kent, and in Berkftiire, we hear words and founds, that are not known in Middlefex : — nay, the fpeech of the learned Londoner and Pa- 8 rifian Chap. V. O F L A N G U A G E. ?f;9 rifian difliis not a little, both in idiom, and in accent, from that of his unlettered fellow-citizens. As Emphafis gives energy to pronunciation, Accent renders it graceful ; and is no doubt of further benefit, in diftinguifhing from one another the feveral tribes of mankind. For in many cafes, it might be inconvenient to miftake a ftianger for a fellow- fubjecl; or not to have the means of proving a man's identity, or his birth- place, from the tone of his language. By their handwriting, and features, individuals may be diftinguiflied ; and the national ar- rangements of mankind, by their words and accent. And of all the peculiarities of a foreign tongue, accent is the moft difficult for a grown perfon to acquire. No Frenchman, who has not paiTed his infancy or childhood in England, will ever fpeak Englifh with the true accent. Scotch men have lived forty years in Lon- don without entirely lohng their native tone. And it may be doubted, whether it is polTible for one, who has lived the firfl .twenty years of his life in North Britain, ever to acquire all the niceties of Englifli pronunciation. — The fame thing may be re- marked of other languages, and the natives of other countries. . Qjq 2 CHAP. 300 THE THEORY Part L c H A P. vr. Ahfurdlty of the "Epicurean do6irine of the Origin cf language : men mujl have fpoken In all ages ; the Jlrjl man, by Infplratlon. — 'The •variety of original tongues, a proof of the Scripture hljlory of Babel. — All languages have fome things In common, which It Is the bii/lnefs ofUnlverfal Grammar to explain. WE learn to fpeak, when our organs are mofl: flexible, and our powers of imitation mofl: active ; that is, when we are infants. Yet even then, this is no eafy acquifition, but the effect of daily exercife continued for feveral years from morning to night. Were we never to attempt fpeech, till we are grown up, there is reafon to think that we fliould find it exceedingly difficult, if not imprafticable. This appears, not only from what is recorded of mute Savages found in defarts, who, though fagacious enough and of no great age, could never be taught to fpeak diftindly ; one of whom, anfwering this defcription, was alive, and in England, a few years ago, and perhaps is alive flill: but a'fo from a fafl: more obfervab'e, namely, that in every language there are certain accents and articulate founds, which they only can pronounce with eafe, who have learned to do fo when very young. Nay every province almofl: has fome peculiarities of pronunciation, which the peo- ple of the neighbouring provinces find it very difficult to imitate, when grown up, but which, v/hen they were children, they could have learned mofl perfeilly in a few months. Infants, who have been taught to fpeak one language, acquire others with amazing faciUty. I knew an infl:ance of a French child of fix years old, who, on coming to Britain, forgot his mother tongue, and learned all the Chap. VI. O F L A N" G U A GE. 3or tlie Englifli lie had occafion foi; in little more than fix weeks. A. grown man, on the contrary, with all the helps of grammars, diction- aries, authors, maftcrs, and converfation, fckiom acquires a foreign' tongue fo as to fpcak it like a native. If, then, there ever was a time, when all mankind were, as tho Epicureans fuppofcd, mutum et turpe peciis, a dumb and brutal race of animals, all mankind muft, in the ordinary courfe of thinp-s. have continued dumb to this day. — For, firft, to iuch animals fpeech could not be neceffary j as they are fuppofcd to have cxiiled for ages without it: and it is not to be imagined, that dumb and beaftly favages would ever think of contriving unneceffary arts, whereof they had no example in the world around them. Lucretius teJIs us, that, at fome early period, nobody knows when, the woods being fet on fire, cither by lightning, 04- by trees grated againfl: each other in the agitation of a ftorm, human crea- tures, who, like the world and all things in it, had been formed of atoms falling together without order, direction, or caufe, and who had hitherto lived difperfed and naked, as well as dumb, were fo enervated by the heat of the conflagration, that they could never after hold out againft the injuries of the weather : — that, con- ftrained to take flielter in holes and caverns, males and females, jumbled together by accident, became known to each other, and in time refolved themfelves into fmall aflbciations or families: that from henceforth men knew theii* own offspring; which formerly they did not ; the intercourfe of the fexes being then fortuitous and temporary, and without friendnfip on either fide : — that the minds of thofe rugged favages, foftoned by the blandifliments of domeftick life, became in time fomewhat more rational; and, after- a little communication with the neighbouring families, found it neceffarv, for the general fafety, to inilitute certain artificial difiindlions of right and wrong, whereof, till this period, they had never been 4 ^ ' confcious. 302 THE THEORY Part I. confcious. Thefe new notions, however, could not be enforced, nor obtain authority, without promifes and compact j for the making of which, it was further reqiiifite to invent certain figns of thought, that fliould have a more definite meaning, than the yells andgeftures that had hitherto given expreflion to their feelings. And thus, both fpeech and moral fentlments were invented -, which, according to this account, were as really the work of human art, as houfes, waggons, flilps, or any other piece of mechanlfm. The beauty of Lucretius's poetry made this fyftem faihlonable at Rome. Horace adopted it, and has in a few well-known lines * given afummary of it; and Virgil, in his youth, (for he afterwards became a Platonift) is fuppofed to have been tin6lured with it. * Cum prorepferuiit primis animalia terris, Mutum et turpe pecus, glandem atque cubilla propter, Unguibus et pugiiis, dein fuftibus, atque ita porro Pugnabaiit armis, quae poll fabricaverat ufus ; Donee verba, quibus voces fenfufque notarent, Kominaque invenere ; dehinc abfiftere bello, &c. Lib. i. Sat. 3. v. 97. The following paraphrafe has nothing of the elegance of Horace or Lucretius; but fcems to have all the elegance that fo ridiculous a dodlrine deferves ; When men out of the earth of old A dumb and beaftly vermin crawl'd ; For acorns, firft, and holes of flielter. They, tooth and nail, and helter fkelter, Fought lift to firt ; then with a club Each learn'd his brother brute to drub ; Till, more experienced grown, thefe cattle Forged fit accoutrements for battle. At laft (Lucretius fays, and Creech) They fet their wits to work, on fpeech: And, that their thoughts might all have marks To make them known, thefe learned clerks Left off the trade of cracking crowns. And manufadured verbs and nouns. Nay Chap. VI. O F L A N G U A G E. 303 Nay Tiilly himfelf *, though no admirer of Epicurean tenets, ap- pears ratlier partial to this account of the origin of Ipeech, laws, ajid poUcy ; which, though repugnant to hiflory, and fraught witli abfurdity, feveral authors of latter times have endeavoured to revive. One would wonder, wdiat charms men could find in a fyftem fo degrading to our nature; or what evidence in that which has no other foundation, than poetical fancy and wild hypothefis. The Pagans, indeed, who knew little of the origin of mankind, might be excufcd for favouring an opinion, which, as it appears in Lucre- tius, has at leaft harmonious numbers, and elegant defcription to recommend it. And yet, unfeduced by poetical allurement, Quin- tilian declares, in the language of true philofophy, that moral fen- timents are natural to us, and that men had fpeech from the begin- ning, and received that choice gift from their Creator. And Ovid's beautiful account of the firft men feems to have been compofed, partly from Hefiod's golden age, and partly from traditions founded upon the Mofaick hiftory of the creation. — That we were at firll good and happy, and loft our felicity when we loft our innocence, — is it not an idea more honourable to our nature, more friendly to virtue, and more confonant to the general notions of mankind, than that we were in the beginning a fpecies of wild beaft, and afterwards by Improvement degenerated into wicked and wretched men. If there be, in the confcioufnefs of honourable defcent, any thing that ele- vates the foul, furely thofe writings cannot be on the fide of virtue which reprefent our nature, and our origin, as fuch as we fliould have reafon to be aftiamed of. But he, who tells me, upon the authority of Scripture, and agreeably to the dictates of right reafon, that we are all defcended from beings, who were created in the * De Inventlone, lib. i. Tuftul. qurefl. lib. 5. image 104 THE THEORY Part I. image of God, wife, Innocent, and happy ; that, by their and our unworthy conduct, human nature is miferably degraded; but tliat, on the performance of certain moft reafonable conditions, we may retrieve our primitive dignity, and rife even to higher happinefs, than that of our firft parents ; — the man, I fay, who teaches this doctrine, fets before me the moft animating motives to virtue, humiUty, and hope, to piety and benevolence, to gratitude and adoration. Other abfurdities in this account of the origin of fociety I may pclTibly touch upon hereafter. At prefent I would only obferve, thztfpeech could not have been invented in the way here defcribed. For to animals in this ftate of brutality I already remarked, that language could not be needful : and it is hardly to be fuppofed, that dumb and beaftly creatures would apply themfelves to the cultivation of unnecefTary arts, which they had never felt any inconvenience from the want of, and which had never been at- tempted by other animals. To which I may add, what is clear from feme of the preceding obfervations, that Speech, if invented at all, muft have been invented, either by children, who were incapable of invention, or by men, who were incapable of fpeech. And therefore reafon, as well as hiftory, intimates, that mankind in all ages muft have been fpeaklng animals ; the young having conftantly acquired this art by imitating thofe who were elder. And we may warrantably fuppofe, that our firft parents muft have received it by immediate infpiration. As the firft language, v/hatever it was, muft therefore have been •perfeft; and liable to no depravation from a mixture of foreign idioms ; and held in reverence by thofe who fpoke it, that is, by all mankind, on account of its divine original ; we may beUeve, ihat it would continue unaltered for many ages. Accordingly Scripture informs us, that when the building of Babel was begun. about Chap. VI. OF L A N G U A G E. ^^05 about eighteen hundred years after the fall, the whole earth was of one fpeech. And, had no miraculous intcrpofition taken place, it is probable, that fome traces of it would have remained in every language to this day. For, though, in fo long a time, many words muft have been changed, many introduced, and many for- gotten, in every countiy, yet men, being all of the fiimc family, and all deriving their fpeech from the only one primitive tongue, it may be prefumed, that fome of the original words would l\ill have been in ufe throughout the whole earth : even as in all tiie modern languages of Europe fome Greek, and fome Hebrew, and a great deal of Latin, is ftill difcernible. But Providence thought fit to prevent this ; and, by confoimding the language of the builders of Babel, to eftablilh in the world a variety of primitive tongues. This miracle could not fail to be attended with important con- fequences. Thofe men only would remain in the fame focicty who underftood one another : and fo the human race would be broken into a number of fmall tribes or nations, each of which would keep together, and confequently at fome diftance from the refl. A general difperfion would follovi^ : and in this way it is probable, that the whole world would be fooner inhabited, than if all the fpecies had remained united in one great nation. And the diflinc- tions of friend and ftranger, of citizen and foieigner, would now take place : whence rivalHiip would arife ; than which nothing more efteclaally promotes indnftry, and the various arts of life. If it were not for wliat is iccorded of Babel, the very great diverfities of human fpeech would be a marvellous phenomenon. Languages arc either Primitive, or Derived. That thofe which arc formed out of the fame parent tongue fliould all refemble it and one another, and yet fhould all be different, is not more wonder- ful, than that children and their parents fliould be marked with a R r general 3o6 THE THEORY Parti. gett.ral family likenefs, and each dilliaguiflied by peculiar features. Spaiiifli, Italian, Portiiguefe, French, and a great deal of the Englidi tor.gue, are derived from the Latin; with the addition of many new words, and new modes of termination and fyntax, which were introduced by the northern nations. And therefore all thefe languages refemble the Latin and one another ; and yet each is different from it, and from all the reft. But, if we could com- pare two original or primitive tongues together, the Hebrew, for inftance, with the Gothick or with the Celtick, or the language of China with that of the Hurons in North America, we fhould not difcern, perhaps, the leaft fimilitude : which, confidering that all mankind are of the fame family,, could not be fully accounted for, without fuppofing, that fome preternatural event, like that of the confufion at Babel, had fome time or other taken place. But this hiftory folves all difficulties. And we have no more reafon to he furprifed, that different nations, though related in blood, fhould fpeak languages totally unlike,, than that coufms of the twentietli remove, living in different climates, fome in houfes and fome in caves, fome naked and others clothed, fome burning in the torrid zone, and others freezing in the polar circle, fliould differ in their features and complexion. But, as the miracle at Babel introduced no material change into human nature; and as, ever fmce the flood, men have had the fame faculties, have been placed in the fame Or in like c-ircumftances, have felt the fame wants, found comfort in the fame gratifications, and a6ted from the influence of the fame motives j it is reafonable to infer, that the thoughts of men muft in all ages have been nearly the fame. In the moft antient hiffories we find, that the modes of, thinking and a6ling, of believing and difbelieving, of approbation and difapprobation, arc perfectly fimilar to what we experience in ourfelves, and in the world around us. Now, as human thoughts difcover Chap. VI. OP LANGUAGE. 307 difcovcr theinfelvcs by language, and as the thoughts of men in one age and nation arc fimilar to thoft; in another, is it not probable, that there may be in all human languages fome general points of refemblance, in fl:ru6turc at leafl, if not in found? Since, for example, all men in all ages muft have had occafion to fpeak of ading, and of being a6led upon, of good and of bad qualities, and of the various objeds of outward fcnfe, muft there not in every language be verbs, and adje6lives, and nouns ? What one nation calls * hippos, another may call cquiis, a third ca'-oallo, a fourth cheval, and a fifth horfc; that is, different compofitions of articu- late found may ftand for the fame animal in different nations : but. in every nation, where this animal is known and fpokcn of, there muft be fome name for it; and words alfo to exprefs its quali- ties, as good, bad, Jlrong, fivift, weak, Jloii), black, white, great, fmall, and its a6tions, as running, 'walking, eating, drinking, neighing, £cc. Languages, therefore, refemble men in this refpefl, that, though each has peculiarities, whereby it is diftinguiftied from every other, yet all have certain qualities in common. The peculiarities of individual tongues are explained in their refpeclive grammars and dictionaries. Thofe things, that all languages have in common, or that are neceffary to every language, are treated of in a fcience, which fome have called Univerfal or Philofophical Grammar ; whereof I fliall now endeavour to unfold the principles. The knowled^-e of it will not only ill uft rate what we may already have learned of the grammatical art ; but alfo, by tracing that matter to its firft elements, will give us more comprehenfive views of it than can be obtained from any particular grammar; and at the fame time •make us better judges of the nature and extent of human language. * ITTTrpf, R r 2 and 3o8 THE THEORY Part I. and of the connetR:ion, that obtains between our words and thoughts. Confidered as refulting from, and as founded in, the faculties and circumftances of human beings, the principles of grammar form an important, and very curious, part of the philofophy of the human mind. Much new difcovery is not to be looked for, in an inveftigation tliat has been feveral times attempted already with good fuccefs. Yet mofl: of thofe who have gone before me in this inquiry (as far at leafl as I am acquainted with them) have both profited by the labours of their predecefTors, and alfo made confiderable improve- ments of their own. Whether I fliall be thought to have done fo in any degree, I know not. This, however, let me be permitted to dxy, that for many of the following, as well as of the preced- ing, remarks, I am not indebted to former authors ; that in fome particulars I have ventured to differ, and I hope not without reafon, from thofe whom I efteem, and by whofe writings I have been inftruCted ; and that, though feveral of the topicks are not without obfciirity, the whole is delivered in a ftyle, which, by repeated experience, I know to be intelligible, and not uninterefting, even to very young perfons. Speculations of this nature are not fo foon exhaulted as fome people may imagine. Every writer and teacher, who has taken pains to form a ftyle, and to underftand his fubjecf, will be found to have a manner of his own : and as long as readers and hearers differ in their taftes and powers of comprehenfion, fo long it may be uleful, in explaining the fciences, to vary the modes of illuftration and argument. But before I proceed to Univerfal Grammar, it will be proper to make fome remarks on language rendered vifible by writing. Chap. VII. OF L A N G U A G K, 309 CHAP. VII. Of the Art of IVriting; its itnportance^ and origin. — Different fort i of it praSlifedby different nations. — A fiort Hijhry of Printing. A WORD is an audible and articulate fign of thought : a Letter is a vifible fign of an articulate found. The ufe of letters is a wonderful invention; but by no means univerfal. Every man can fpeak who is not deaf; and men have fpoken in all ages ; but in many nations the art of writing is ftill unknown. Words fpoken make an immediate imprelfion, but depend, for their permanence, upon the memory of the fpeaker and hearer; and the befl memory lofes more than it retains : but words written may be preferved from age to age, and made as durable as any thing human can be. — When we fpeak, we are underftood no fuitlicr than we are heard: but what is written may be fent round the world, and circulated in all nations. — We can fpeak no longer than we live : but the thoughts of men, who died three thoufand years ago, are ftill extant in writing ; and, by means of this divine art, will continue to entertain and inftruft mankind to the end of the world. — Moreover, while we only meditate, our memory is not always fo faithful as to enable us to revife our thoughts, com- pare them together, and render them confiflcnt : but by vvritino- we make them pafs and repafs in review before us, till we have made them fucli as we wi(h them to be. — God has been pleafed to reveal his will to us in writing; and, without this art, policvi which is the mofl venerable of all hiiman inflitutions, would be exceedingly imperfect.. The -.0 THE THEORY Part L <> The importance of writing to the virtue and happinefs of man- kind, as well as to the afcertaining, methodizing, preferving, and extending, of human knowledge, is indeed fo great, that one is apt to wonder, how any age or country fhould be ignorant of an art, which may be acquired with fo little difficulty, and exercifed with fo much pleafure. But, though of eafy acquifition to us, it is in itfelf neither eafy nor obvious. Savages articulate their mother tongue, without troubling themfelves about the analyfis of fen- tences, or the feparation of words j of refolving words into the fmiple elementary founds they have no idea : how then fliould they think of exprefllng thofe fimple founds by vifible and permanent fymbols ! In fa6l, alphabetical writing muft be fo remote from the conception of thofe who never heard of it, that without divine aid it would feem to be unfearchable and impoflible. No wonder then, that fome authors fhould have afcribed it to Adam, and fuppofed it to be the effedl of infpiration. Of the nature of Antediluvian, or of the firft, writing, whether it was alphabetical, or by hieroglyphicks, we can only form con- ie6lures. The wifdom and fimple manners of the firfl: men would incline me to think, that they muft have had an alphabet : for hieroglyphick characters imply quaintnefs and witticifm. That Mofes knew an alphabet, is certain ; and we may venture to fay, he learned it in Egypt, where he was born and educated. If this be granted, the hieroglyphicks of Egypt and Ethiopia will appear of later date than alphabetical writing -, and to have been contrived, as many learned men have thought, by priefts or politicians, for exprefTing, in a way not inteUigible to the vulgar, the myfterics of religion and government. — A hieroglypliick, or facred fctilpture, is an emblematical figure, which denotes, not an articulate found, as a letter docs, but an idea, or thing. It is a reprefentation Chap. Vn. OF LANGUAGE. 311 a rcprcfentatiou of fome part of the human l)ody, or of fome animal, vegetable, or work of art ; but it means, not that which it reprefcnts, but fonicthing clfe that is, or is fuppofed to be, of a hke nature. Thus, the figure of a lamp, among the Egyptian priefts, fignificd, not a lamp, but lii\^ ; a circle was tlie emblem of eternity ; and an eye on the top of a fceptre denoted a fove- reign. Hicroglyphicks muft have been a veiy imperfect mode of expref- fing thought. They took up a great deal of room ; could hardly be conne6ted fo as to form a fentcnce; were made flowly, and with difficulty ; and, when made, were no better than riddles. Cefar, in his account of the Druids of Gaul, relates, that they obliged their difciples to get by heart fo great a number of verfes, that the term of their education was fometimes lengthened out to twenty years. And we arc told, that they accounted it unlawful to commit thofe verfes to writing, notwithftanding that they underftood the Greek alphabet, and made ufe of it in their ordinary bufmefs both publick and private. " Two things," continues he " feem to me to have determined them in this: fail, that their " tenets might not be publilhed to the vulgar: and, fecondly, " that, having no, books to truil to, they might be the more " careful to improve their memory, and more accurate fludents « of the myfteries of their order." * — May not. the Egyptian hicro- glyphicks have been invented for the fame purpofes ? By the vulo-ar they could not be underftood: and their enigmatical nature made it ncceliary for the priefts to ftudy them., and confequently the although our way of making up our books is very different, and much more convenient. Pens, ink, and paper, according to the prefent ufe, were firft known in Europe about fix hundred years ago : but fome writers will not allow them to be fo antient. The learned Dr. Pi ideaux is of opinion, that the art of making paper of linen or flax is an eaftern * Sa-'pe nylum vo'tas, Iterum quae digna legi fint Scripturus. Sat. i. lo. 72. invention,. Chap. VII. OF LANGUAGH. 31;?- invention, and was introduced into Spain by the Saracens. But wblerve, that tlie charta mentioned by Pliny and other clalTick au- thors, though, hke our jiai-er, ulcd both for writing ar.d for bind- ing up goods in parcels*, and al/b conTjxjfed of vegetable ingredi- ents, was however a different preparation : i ing mr;le of the filmy fibres of the inner bark of the papyrus, laid on a tal firft parallel and tlien tranfvcrfc, and glued together by the muddy w. ter of the Nile, or, where that was wanting, by a paftc made of fine flour and common water. Printing, as well as paper- making, is of high antiquity in China. But the Chinefe printing is very difierent from ours, and much raoro* Lmperfetl:. They carve tl^e characters of every page upon wo d j lo that their printing refemblcs our engraving. The firft European printers, proceeded in the fame manner 5 but, as tbey hod no inter- courfe with China, their art was of their own invention. Printing by types, or moveable letters, is a great improvement ; for, in thi? way, with a fmall provifion of types, we may print many bookj different from one another : whereas, to make a book by the former method, there muft for every page be an engraved' block of wood ;. and the engravings could be of no fuithcr ufe, if the fame book, were never reprinted. This mud: have made our firft efforts in> printing very expenfive and flow ; but, flow and expcnfive as they^ were, the difcovery was important, and made books incomparably, more numerous, and confequently cheaper, than ever they could have been while man vifcripts only were in ufe. For though the carving of the wooden plates would take up more time than the- ti'anfcribing of feveral copies, yet wlicn the plates were fixiiihed;. tlioufands of copies might be printed off in a few- days. Little is known of the firll prinicjs : nor has eitlier tlie era or tlie birth-place of this wonderful invention been exa6lly afcertained. * See Horace, Lib. ii. Fpift, i, 270, 113, Lib. 5. Sat. x. 4. The '.I 8 1' H E T H E O R Y Part I. The general opinion is, that printing with moveable types was firit praftifed at Mentz about the year one thoufand four hundred and fifty ; and that an edition of the Bible of that date was the firft printed book, Auguilin de civitate Dei the fecond, and Tally's offices the third. One of the firft printers was Fofl, or Fauft, or Fauftus, who is thought by fome to have been the inventor of moveable types. He did not choofe to let the world into the fecret of his art, for fear of leflfening the price of his books. And therefore, when he expofed a parcel of them to fale at Paris, he gave out that they were manulcripts ; v/hich he might the more eafily do, becaufe no body could fuppofe they were any thing elfe. And, that they might pafs for fuch, without fufpicion, he had in printing left blank fpaces for certain capital letters, which he afterwards inferted with the pen, flouriftied and illuminated, according to the faihion of the times. But, when it was obferved, how exa6lly one copy correfponded with another, and that there was not the fmalleft variation in the fliape, fize, or place, even of a fingle letter, he was thought to have done what no human power could execute, and confequently to have intercourfe with evil fpirits ; and found himfelf obliged, in order to avoid profecution and punifliment, to divulge the myftery of printing. Hence came the vulgar tale of Doclor Fauftus -, who is faid in the ftory-book to have been a great magician, and to have fold himfelf to the devil. Of the ufefulnefs of Printing, as the means of multiplying books without end, of prompting the improvement of arts and fciences, and of diffufing knowledge through all the clafles of mankind, I need not enlarge, as the thing is> too obvious to require illuftration. I fliall only mention one particular, which is abundantly ftriking. Common bibles are in this countiy fold in flieets to the retailer at fourteen fhilhngs a dozen, or fourteen pence apiece ; as I was informed Chap. VII. OF LANGUAGE. 319 informed by a pcrfon who dcnk in that article to a very great extent. Thus is the price of the beft book in the world reduced fo low, that every perfon, however poor, may have one, either bought with his own money, or given him in charity. But, before the invention of printing, it would have been a great matter if every parifli could have afforded to have a bible j as the expence of vvritino- out fo great a book would have been at leaft equal to that of build- ing an ordinary country church. To us, who are acquainted with both arts, it may feem ftrange,. that the Greeks and Romans, who excelled in the engraving of feals and medals, fliould never tiiink of plates or types for printing. But arts may appear obvious after they are known, vvliich are very far from the imagination of thole who never heard of them. The affairs of this world are ordered by Providence, who makes human wifdom fubfervient to its own good pitrpofes. That the magnet at- trafts iron, was known to the antients ; but its power of giving a polary direction to that metal was not found out till tlic thir- teenth century. Few arts have fo foon become perfe6l, as this of Printing. In the library of Marifclial College there is a Latin tranflation of Appian's Roman hiftory, printed at Venice in the year fourteen, hundred and feventy-feven, that is, in the tw'enty-feventh year of the art, which, in the nice cut of the letters and neatnefs of the prefs-work, is hardly inferiom- to any book of the prefcnt age. Its only fault, which it has in common with all the printed books of an early date, is the great number of contractions. Thefe were much affedted by the firft printers, in imitation, no doubt, of the manufcript-writcrs, to whom they were a confiderable faving both of time and of paper. They are now difufed in mod languages, except the Greek j and it is to be wiflied perhaps, that they were not ufed at all. In writing for one's own ufe one may employ 4. abbreviations^ 5»o THE THEORY Parti. abbreviations, or the cyphers of fliort liand, or any other charac- ters that one is acquainted with ; though even this is not prudent, except when one is obliged to write with uncommon expedition : but what is to be laid before the publick, or any other fuperioui', fhould have all poffible clearnefs, and ought therefore to be free from con- tradions, and the like peculiarities. Before the middle of the fixteenth century, that is, in lefs than a liundred years after the invention of printing, this art was brought to its higheft perfection, by the illuflrious Robert and Henry Ste- phen ; who have a claim*to our admiration and gratitude, not only as the greatefl of printers, but alfo as the mofl careful editors, and mofl learned men, of modern times. The former publiihed a I'bcfanrus, or Diftionary, of the Latin, and the latter a Tbefaurus of the Greek tongue : works of aftoniHiing accuracy and erudition, and without doubt the greatefl works of their kind in the v/orld. Henry's Greek poets, in folio, is to this day ftudied, and imitated, as a model of typographical excellence. And that edition by Robert, of the Greek Newteflament, of which a copy is juil: now before me, printed in the year one thoufand five hundred and forty iix, and which is commonly called mirijicam^ (pollibly from the fuperlative elegance of the printing, but probably from the two firft words of the Preface) is not yet furpalTed in refpedt of beauty, nor perhaps equalled. Their flyle of printing has been fuccefsfully imitated by my lamented friends Robert and Andrew F'oulis of Glafgow, who did much for the improvement of their country, and eftabliflied a tafle for elegant printing in Scotland ; and whofe folio Homer is one of the finefl and moft correct books that ever came from the prefs.. OF LANGUAGE; 321; The Theory of Language* PART 11. of Univerfal Grammar. INTRODUCTION. THE words of different languages differ greatly in found. Nay, in this refpe£l, two languages may be fo unlike, that the mofl perfeft knowlege of the one would not enable us to under- ftand a fmglc word of the other. If, therefore, all languages have fome things in common, thofe things muft be fought for, not in theyoa;/^ of the words, but in t\\tn- fignificatlo?! and ufe. Now words are of various charaflers in regaixi to fignificatlon t and if a perfon, ignorant of grammar, were to look into the voca- bulary of any language, he would be fo confounded with their multitude, as to think it impoflible to reduce them into clalTes. And yet the fpecies (or forts) of v/ords in the mod comprehenfive tongue are not many : in our own, which is fufficiently copious, they amount to no more than ten: and, in the following fliort fentencc, every one of the ten may be found once, and fome of them twice. " I now fee the good man coming, but alas 1 he walks ^' with difficulty." — /and be are pronouns, now is an adverb, fee and walks are verbs, the is an article, good is an adjeflive, ffiatt ■■m([ difficulty arc noun?, coming is a participle, but a conjunflion, T t with 322, THE THEORY Part 11. with a prepofition, and alas an interjeftion. One would think a language muft be very imperfe6l, that has not a word to anfwer each of thofe contauied in this fentence. May we not then infer, that in every language there muft be nine or ten fpecies of words ; or, to exprefs it otherwife, that Articles, Nouns, Pronouns, Adjedives, Verbs, Participles, Adverbs, Pre- pofitions, Inteijeclions, and Conjun6lions, muil be in all lan- guages ? — This, however, will not appear with full evidence, till we have taken a more particular view of thefe feve/ al forts of words j. and fhown each of them to be necefTary, or how far each of them may be necefTary, for expreffmg certain modes of human thought, to which, from the circumflances of mankind in every age and nation, we have reafon to think that all men would find it expedient to give utterance. Thus fliall we unfold the principles of Univerfal Grammar, by tracing out thofe powers, forms, or contrivances, which, being efTential to language, mufl be found in every fyflem of human fpeech that deferves the name. Chap. I. O F L A N G U A G E; 323 CHAP. I. OF NOUNS. SECT. I. Of Nouns Primary, or Subjlantives. — Of Number, and Gender : which (taking thefe words in the Grammatical fenfe) depend, partly upon the nature of things, and partly upon cujlom and arbitrary rule. 'T^HAT nouns, or i\\Q names of things, muft make part of every -*■ language, will not be difputed. Men could not fpcak of one another, or of any thing elfe, without Subflantives. Man, houfe, ftone, mountain, earth, water, meat, drink, 6cc. mufl furely be fpoken of in every nation. A Subftantive, or Noun, is a word denoting a fubflance ; or, more properly, is " a word denoting the thing fpoken of.'' Now the things we fpeak of either have a real exiftence, as man, tree, houfe, hatchet ; or have had a real exiftence, as Babylon, Eden, Cefar; or are fpoken of as if they had exifted, or did exift, as Jupiter, Fairy, Lilliput ; or are conceived by the mind as having at leaft the capacity of being chara6lerifed by qualities, as virtue, beauty, motion, fwiftnefs. — Thefe laft are called Abftra6l Nouns ; and the underftanding forms them, by abftra6ling, or feparating, from any natural or artificial fubftance, either real, or imaginary, certain qualities, and making thofe qualities the fubjedl of medita- tion or difcourfe : as — the eagle fies — its fight is fwift : — the howk fakes ; its faking is terrible : — Voltaire was witty ; his ivit T t 2 was 324 THE THEORY Part II. was indecent : — Minerva and Venus were beautiful; but the beauty of the former was majeftick, and the beauty of the latter aihu'ing. That the formation of aMracl nouns is natural to man, in every condition wherein he can be placed, will appear, if we con- fider, that it is for tlieir qualities that things are valued and at- tended to j and that, therefore, we muft often compare qualities with one another, and confcquently fpeak of them as being de- firable, valtiable, pleafant, great, fmall, good, evil, indifferent, 6cc.. In this manner a quality is fpoken of as fome thing, that is itfelf.' charafterifed by qualities ; which comes fo near the defcription of. a fubftance, that language gives it a name of the fubftantive form. — Perhaps, however, it might be doubted, whether abllra6l fubftan- tives be eflential to language. Thoufands of them indeed there; are in all the tongues we are acquainted with : but in many cafes-: their place might be fupplied by other words j, though I confefs,,. that this v/ould often give rife to awkward circumlocutions. The qualities, afcribed to abftra6l nouns or ideas, may them- felves be abftracted, and become the things fpoken of, and fo be charaflerifed by other qualities. Thus from beautiful animal^, moving animal, cruel animal, let the qualities be feparated, and af-- fume the fubftantive form, and they become beauty, motion, crueliyy\ which, as if they were real things, may be charafterifed by quali-. ties, great beauty, fwift motion, barbarous cruelty. Thefe qua- lities alfo may be abflra6led, and transformed into ^rm/«(?/},y^//i'- nefs, barbarity ; which may have new qualities affigned them equally fufceptible of abftradlion, tranfitory greatnefs, inconceivable fwiftnefs, , brutal barbarity. In fpeaking of fubftances, or things, natural, artificial, imar ginary, or abftra6l, all men will have occafion to mention, fome- times one of a kind, and fometimes more than one : a man is coming, Chnp.T, OF LANGUAGE. 3*5 coming, or wc^ are coming : IktzJJJp, or I fcQjhips: he thought he favv a g/jq/i, or he dreamed he was lurrounded with ghq^s : Au- guftus had many virtues, Nero iiad not one virtue. In every lan- guage, tlierefore, nouns muft admit of fome variety in their form., to denote unity and plurality. If the word ;;.'/r??, for example, had no plural, it could not be known, when one laid, I fee the man coming, whether one or more than one was meant. The incon- venience arifing from this ambiguity would foon fliow the neceflitv of removing it, either by altering the termination, or the middle or initial letters of the woid, or by fome other contrivance. But this is not equally neceflbry in all cafes. . The word which denotes one individual fuhfirance and no other, and which Gram- marians call a proper name, can never denote more than that one, and therefore cannot have plurality. Epaminondas can never be pluial, fo long as we know of no more than one of that name. In like manner, Wejlminjlcr abbey denotes one particular buildin"-, Rome one particular city, Etna one particular mountain, and the Thames one particular river. When thcfe, and the like words, afilime a plural, they tlien ceafe to be proper names, and fignify a clafs or fpecies of things, or perhaps fupply the place of general appellatives. When I fay, the twelve Cefars, I life the noun, not as the proper name of an indi- vidual, but as a common appellative belonging to tv^'elve perfons, . to each of whom it is equally applicable. . When I fiy, that tiventy ^hamefcs united would not form a river fo large as the Ganges, I ufe the word Thames to denote in general a river, or a quantity of running, water, as large as the Thames. . ■ We fpeak of the Gor- dons, the Macdonalds, the Howards, &c. ; in all which cafes, it is plain, that the noun, which bears the plural termination, is not the diftinguifliing name of one man, but a general name common ■ to every individual of a tribe or family, . 4 Furthers 326 THE THEORY Part II. Further : When any individual perfon has rendered himfelf fa- mous in a particular way, his name is fometimes given to fuch as are famous in the fame way ; and then, it becomes, in like manner, a common appellative, and admits of plurality. Mece- nas was a great patron of learning, and Virgil an excellent poet whom he patronifed : and Martial has faid, that " Virgils will not " be wanting where there are Mecenafes." Who does not fee, ihat the meaning is, " Good authors will not be wanting, where ** there are great patrons ?" We are told, in our Grammars, that proper names for the moft part want the plural. But the truth is, that proper names always want it : for when a name, that is commonly applied to one indi- vidual, affumes a plural form, it ceafes to be a proper name. And as every fuch name ijiay affume fuch a form, the Latin Gramma- rians, as well as the Greek, might have given examples of proper names with plural terminations. For Ccefares, Ccefariim, Cafari- bus, are as agreeable to Latin analogy, as * Ameiai, Aineion, Ai~ neiais are to Greek. — It will occur to you perhaps, that fome pro- per names are always plural, and have no fmgular, as Atbence, Mycena, 'Hhebce, the Devifes, &c. But this is merely accidental ; and refults not from the nature of the thing, but from the cuftom of a parti<:ular language -, and is therefore a confideration that be- longs not to Univerfal Grammar. Every name in language, that denotes a genus or a fpecies, may be applied either to one^ or to many individuals of a kind ox fort -}-, and * A»vfi«i, Aivfiu^, Ari/fiaif. -}■ When a number of things are found to refemble each other in fome important par- ticulars, we refer them to one clafs, fpecies, or tribe, to which we give a name ; and this name belongs equally to each individual comprehended in that clafs or fpecies. Thus, the word man^ homo, denotes a clafs of animals, and is equally applicable to c\ cry huinan being. Again, fmding feveral fpecies or clafles to refemble each other in Chap. I. O F L A N G U A G E. 327 and inufl: by confequence be capable of cxprcfling plurality, as well as unity. Homo, therefore, and man, muft admit of feme fuch variety, as homines and men ; bccaufe the word may be ufed of one perfon, or of any number of pcrfons, of the human fpi:cies. And this diftin6lion of Singular and Plural would feem to be cflential to the nouns of every language : at Icaft we may venture to affirm, that it could not be wanting without great inconvenience. Thero are, indeed, in many tongues, and perhaps in all, fome nouns that have no plural form, and others that have no fmgular, even when there is nothing in their fignification to hinder it : but this, like the plural proper names, is accidental, and might have been otherwife, if cuftom and popular ufe had fo determined. In the Attick dialed, and poetical language, of the Greeks, there is alfo a dual number to exprcfs two. But this is not necef- faryj though feveral other antient tongues have it, particularly in certain common qualities, we refer them to a higher clafs called a genus, to wliich we give a name, that is equally applicable to every fpecies and every individual compre- hended under it. Thus all living things on earth refemble each other in this refpecft, that they have life. We refer them, therefore, to the genus called Jnimal; and this word belongs to every fpecies of animals, and to each individual animal. — Moreover, all things, animated and inanimate, agree in this, that they are created ; and in tliis view we refer them to a clafs ftill higher, called Creature; a word which belongs equall/ to every genus and fpecies of created things, and to each individual thing that is cre- ated. — Further ftill, All beings whatever refemble one another in this refped, that they are or ex'yl ; whence we refer them to a clafs llill higher, and indeed the highell of all, called Being. — This gradation is feen at one glance in the following words; Socrates, Man, Animal, Creature, Being. That clafs is called a Species, which comprehends under it, or is underftood to com- prehend, individuals; and that a Ctv/w, which comprehends a number of fpecies. Antiently the Englifli noun Kind was the fame with G^r;aj-, and Sort with Species : but iinJ znd fcrt ha\e long been confounded by our beft writers ; and we are obliged to: borrow the words ^tm; and 7>m« from the Latin: —though, indeed, in good Latin authors. Species never has that meaning which we here give it ; and which in the lan-r guage of Cicero would be cxpisffed thus, pars ^ute ful>je^a ej generi, tlie clafs that is fubordinate to the genus, ^ the. 328 THE THEORY PaitH. the Hebrew, the Gothick, and the Cehick. For, languages being formed in fonie meafure by accident, it is no wonder that there fhould be redundancies in them, as well as defedls. — It has been faid, that ^;«^ij in Latin, and (^(j//6 in Englifh, are duals. But it is hardly worth while to introduce a new term into any grammar, for the fake of one example. Befides, there is this difference be- tween the words in queftion and Greek dual nouns, that the latter are joined in fyntax to verbs, adje6lives and participles of the dual number; whereas a7nbo takes a plural verb, adjedlive and participle, and both takes a plural verb. Another thing eflential to nouns is gender. For language would be very imperfe6f , if it had no exprellion for the fex of animals. Now all things whatever are Male, or Female, or Both, or Nei- ther. The exiftence of hermaphrodites being uncommon, and even doubtful, and language being framed to anfwer the ordinary occa- fions of life, no provilion is made, in any of the tongues we are acquainted with, for exprefTmg, otherwife than by a name made on purpofe, or by a periphrafis. Duplicity of fex. The genders therefore are only two, the mafaiUne and \kv^ feminine : for what we call the 7ieufer gender implies properly a negation of fex, or that the thing which is faid to be of this gender is neither male nor female. In Hebrew, there is no neuter; every noun being either mafcu* line or feminine : and when things witliout fex are exprefled by pronouns, or alluded to by adje£lives, they are more frequently feminine than mafculine. * AH * More particularly : The demonftrative pronoun ufed for tliis thing (anfwcring to THTo hoc) when no fubftantive is exprefTed, is feminine. TIius, in the Septu.igint, and :n Mat. xxi. 42. n«f e; xuj la lytvno dvrv xai tj-i 5-«t;,w.ar»i : literally, A Donvno/iu'fa 'pAhtsc^ -ct cdmiranda. — Alio when an adje5i:ive pro- noun, there muft be the import of both a pronoun, and a copu- lative Gonjunflion : and all cornunclions connect fentences,.. as- will be feen hereafter. Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 347 CHAP. II. OF ATTRIBUTIVES, SECT. I. Of Attributhes — AdjeBhes, Participles, Verhs. — Their dijlinguijh^ ing cbaraSters. — Compar'ifon of AdjeSlives, rx^HE words hitherto confidcred have been called by fome -■• writers Primary and Secondary Subftantives. Both clafTes ■denote fubftances or things ; the former, direflly ; the latter, by. fupplying the place of tlie former. But by nouns and pronouns alone not one human fentiment could be exprefled. There muft, therefore, in all languages, be other claffes of words. Men not only fpeak of perfons and things, but alfo of the qualities, charaflers, and operations, of perfons and things. What would it fignify to fpeak of Cefar, if one were never to fay whether Cefar was good or bad, or what were his qua- lities, or what his a6lions ? If we were to hear fuch an exprefllon as, — ivas bra've — 'u^as admired — invaded Britain, we fliould naturally alk, ivho was fo ? or, ivho did fo ? for till we be informed of this, we cannot know what is meant. Not that the words brave, admired, invaded, have no meaning J but becaufc they denote certain qualities or attributes, which lead our thoughts to the perfon or thing to whom they are fuppofcd to belong. For qualities imply fomething in which they inhere, or to which they pertain < and if there were no perfons or things in the univerfe, there could be no qualities or attributes. Y y 2 Now 348 THE THEORY Part II. Now the words that denote attributes or qualities are in general called Attributives. The antient Greek Grammarians called them * rhemata, verba, -verbs: — whatever may be faid, or, more accurately, whatever may be affirmed, or denied, concerning any thing or perfon. Thus of Cefar, it may be affirmed, that he was brave, that he Avas admired, that he invaded Britain ; and of the fame Gefar, it may be denied, that he was cruel, that he was defpifed, that he conquered Britain. In thefe affirmations and negations, Cefar is a fubftantive, name, or noun; he is a pronoun; and brave, cruel, admired, dcjpifedy invaded, conquered, are attributives. In all the languages we know, and probably in all others, there are three forts of attributives, which are called in the grammars, Adjeilives, Participles, and Verbs. — The Adjedive denotes a Am- ple quality, as brave, cruel, good, fwift, round, fqnare. — The Participle denotes a quality, together with a certain modification of time ; as amans, loving, which relates to time prefent ; aynatus, loved, which alludes to time paft; TiwA amaturus, about to love, which points at time future \. — The Verb is ftill more complex than the participle. It not only exprefles an attribute, and refers that attribute to time, paft, prefent, or to comej but alfo com- prehends an affertion ; fo that it may form, when joined to a noun, a complete fentence, or propoiition. Thus when I fay, Alexander ambulat, Alexander walks, I utter, though in two words, a com- plete fentence : and this fentence comprehends in it thefe four things : firft, a fubftantive proper name, Alexander ; fecondly, an attribute, quality, or operation of Alexander, walking; thirdly^ ^ This idea of the Participle may fuffice at prefent ; having been generally adopted by Grammarians. But it is not accurate i nay it is very inaccurate. See the iifth fec- tJon of this chapter. this Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 349 this quality or operation fixed down to the prefent time, walks^ or is walking ; and fourthly, tliis quality as affirmed to belong to the perfon fpokcn of, Alexander is walking. From the verb take away the aflertion, and there remains the attribute and the time, which are commonly thought to form the eflence of t!ie participle ; and from the participle take away the time, and there remains the fimple quality, as exprefTed by the adjeclivc. Thus from amat, the verb, loveth, or is loving, take away the allcrtion is, and there remains loving, which is called a participle of the prefent time ; and if we confider the attributive loving, not as bearing reference to the prefent or to any particular time, but as exprefTing a perfon's general chara6ler which remains with him at all times, wc transform it into an adjeflive; as when we fay, a loving parent, z. fympathijing friend, Ariftides fuit aman- tijjimus aequi. DoSitis, Spe£iatus, Probatus, and many other attribu- tives of the fame nature, are participles, when they imply any notion of time ; but adjedlives, when they denote a quality fimply, without regard to time. All fubl^ances, natural, imaginary, artificial, and abftracl:, and all perfons ; and, in a word, whatever is exprefled by a fubftantive, may be charafterifed by qualities, and, confequently, joined in fyn- tax to adje6tives, to participles, and to verbs. We may fay, a tall man t a rtjng man, z. man Jpeaks or runs: z. mournful mufe, an in/piring mufe, tht mufe infpires or Jings : ^.fwiftjlnp, 2i toJJ'ed JJ/ipj theJJjip overrates the enemy : of virtue we may fay, that it is lovely, that :'t is praifed, that it brings happinefs : and, of Socrates, that be was wife, that he was condemned, and that he drank poifon. Pro- nouns, too, as they ftand for nouns, may be characlerifed in the fame manner; as in the two lall examples. From the method of arrangement commonly followed in grain- mars, we might be apt to conclude, that adjedives are of the fame 6 clafs 350 THE THEORY Part 11. clafs with nouns, and that the participle is a part of the verb. But when we examine thefe clafFes of words philofophically, that is, according to their meaning and ufe, and without regard to their derivations, or final letters, we fliall be fatisfied, that the arrange- ment here given is right, and that the other, though not materially wrong, is however erroneous. In their nature, no two forts of words can be more unlike, than the fubftantive and the adje6livej and therefore it muft be a fault in diftribution, to refer both to the Noun. The Subftantive is the name of the thing fpoken of, and in Greek and Latin is called na7ne, for it is o?ioma in the one, :and nomen in the other : and it would have been better, if in EngUfli we had called it the name, rather than the noun ; for this laft word, being ufed only in grammar, we are more apt to mif- underlland, than the other, which is in familiar ufe. But the adjedive is not the name either of a thing or of a perfon ; nor is it a name at all : it denotes a quality ; aird the antient Greeks very pro- perly called it, not otiofua, but epitbeton or epithet, and fometimes rhema; which laft word means whatever is affirmed or denied of a thing or perfon. It is true, the term rhema does not diftinguifli if from the verb and participle ; but then it does not confound it with the noun or fubftantive. And in fact, the adjeclive or epithet partakes more of the verb and participle, than of the noun. So that, if there be any reafon for diftinguiiliing the noun from the verb, there is equal reafon for diftinguifliing the noun from the adjetlive : and the term adjeElive-noun, however common, is really as incon- •gruous, as verb-noun ,or participle-noun would be. The reafon, why Grammarians have confounded the adjedive •with the noun, feems to be, becaufe in Greek and Latin both are declined by cafes, refcmble each other in termination, and, when joined in fyntax, agree in cafe, gender, and number. But this is iio good reafon. If it were, participles alfo Ihould be calletl nouns : 4 ' which Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 35T which in no grnmmar, {o far as I know, has ever been done. — Ad- jeftivcs are fometimes called adnoiins; which would feeni not alto- gether improper, bccaufe they are joined to nouns j hut is not accu- rate, becaufe it does not dillinguilh theadjedivc from the participle and verb, which are alfo joined to nouns. * The Participle, Partkipium, {xn Gxctk-\- metochi' J was probably fo called, becaufe it partakes of the nature both of the verb and of the adjc£live ; of the former, by exprefling time, and of the latter, by denoting a quality. But, though derived from the verb, it is not to be confidered as a part of it -, becaufe, though it may refem- ble a verb in exprefling a quality with time, it implies no affirma- tion, and confequently wants the verb's diftinguifhing character. If its derivation were to give it any right to be confidered as a part of the verb, then the ^diSt'AtpreJumptimiJlywii^W. as well claim to be a part oi xhQ zdJ\&di\\'e prefumptuousy of the noun prefumption, and of the verb j&r^OTf . Accordingly, the Latin grammarians, while they confound adjeftives with nounsj do yet very properly diil:in- guifli the participle from every other part of fpeech. Wherever adje6li\^es and participles admit the diftJn6fions of gender, number, and cafe, it would lecm natural, that, in thefe three, refpefls, they fiiould agree with tlie nouns to which they belong. Indeed, I cannot fee, why adje6lives and participles (ho u Id have thofe diftinflions, unlefs it be, that they may the more effeftually coincide with their refpe^ive.nouns. ¥ov bonus, mcvens, gwdt moving^ or any other adjedlive or participle, confidered in itfelf, cannot be of any number or of any gender: for it may-be allerted^ * If adjeiSllves may e.ver with propriety be called Jdnouns, it feems to be, when they are neceflary to give the full fignitication of a noura. Thus xht golden eagle is no more than the nam of one fpecies of the aquiline tribe. Accordingly, wliat in one tongue is ■ thus expi-efled by two words may in another be fignified by one. Thus Xfva-xnTo; is^ the name- of the fame bird in Greek. Similar inflances are innumerable; as the JA-.//-- urraman fea, z Jet ting dog ^ hm. ^ttThe Phikfothy cf Rhetorid. Book.iii..chap. 2. . f Mfrc;^*!, from u.tir/jiv participare. 352 THE THEORY Part II. of one, or of many; and of that which is either mafculine or fe- minine, and of that which is neuter. Twelve men or women, for example, may be good, or in motion, as well as one; and many forts of animals and inanimate things, as well as one fort. — Agree- ably to thcfc remarks, we find, that in Latin, Greek, and fome other languages, wherein the termination of adjeftives and parti- ciples varies according to the gender and number ; — that in thofe languages, I fay, adjeclives and participles follow the gender, num- ber, and cafe of the fubftantives to which they are joined : but EngliihadjetSlives and participles, which never vary the termination, and are all of the nature of indechnable Latin adjectives {:isjrugi, rh'quam, centum) adapt themfelves, without any change, to nouns of all genders, cafes, and numbers. — Whence ws may infer, that the declenfion of adjectives and participles, though it takes place in many tongues, and may contribute to elegaiic-. and harmony of ftyle, is not elfential to language, and is therefore a confideration which belongs not to Univerfal Grammar. And it will appear afterwards, that the fame thing is true of the declenfion of nouns. The comparijon of adje6lives is another Iburce of variety, which demands attention j that we may fee how far it is, or is not, elfential to language. — Things or perfons, that have a certain quality in common, may differ in refpe6t of the degrees in which they have it. This paper is white, and fnow is white -, but fnow is ivhiter than this paper. Pliny was eloquent, Cefar was more eloquent, and Cicero was the mofl eloquent of the three. Sophocles was wife, Socrates was wifer; but Solomon was the wifefl of men. Thefe, and the like degrees, of the fame quality, mufl be obfervable in all ages and nations, mufl be fpoken of by all men, and mufl there- fore in one v^ay or other be exprefTed in all languages. In Latin and Englifh, there are four ways of exprefTmg this variety. The firft is, by joining to the adjedive an adverb of com- parative Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 35 ; parative increafc ; as more liard, 'zvry hard, mojl hard; magis durus, valde duriis, jnaxime diirus. — The fecond is, by varyifig the tcimuia- tion of the adjccTtive : iDife, wifeVy laifejl ; fapicns, fapientm\ fapi- entifjimus ; '* fopbos, fopbotcros,Jbphotatos. — The thh'd is, by afTumiiig other adje^rtives, which do themfeh'es denote both a quaUty and comparison ; as good, better ; bad, worfe -, bonus, melior, optimus. — The fourth is, by blending the two methods laft mentioned : as in Englifli, good, better, bcji ; where bejl (contracted from the Saxon Betteji or Betjl) is plainly allied to better, but better (though formed from the Saxon Bet) is, in Englifh, a primitive word, not derived from good, nor from any other adje6live now in the lan- guage. So in Latin, inalus, pejor, pejjimus ; and fo in Greek ■\ kakos, cheiron, cheiri/ios. — In other tongues, other methods equally con- venient, perhaps, and equally elegant, may have been adopted, for marking thofe increafmg degrees of qualities, which are commonly- called degrees of comparifon. If it were aflced, whetiier participles have this variety, I fliould anfwer, No. As attributives, they might have it, no doubt ; for moft attributes or qualities admit the diftinftions oi more and /?/}.• but participles, as expreflive of time, cannot ha\e this variety; be- caufe time, whether confidered as pafl:, or prefent, or as future, ad- mits not thofe dirtinftions. Of two things that are good one may be more and the other hfs (o -, but if two perfons are 'writing at this prefent time, the writing of the one cannot be more connected with time prefent, than that of the other; and if Milton was writing in the lail century, and Virgil twenty centuries ago, the time in which Milton wrote is as really pafl y as that in which Virgil wrote. And therefore, when an attributive, bearing the form of a participle, is varied by a comparative or fuperlative termination, or has its Z z meaning 354- TH E THEORY Partm meaning heightened by an adverb of comparative increafe, as amamt ■ amantior, amanttjjimus ; doSlus, doBior, doEliJJimus ; a loving friend, . 2l more loving {x\^n^, a moji loving friend, — that attributive is to be confidered, not as a participle exprefling a quality with time, but as an adjedlive expreffing a fimple quality. As many verbs either denote, or imply aftion ; and as the fame action may be performed with greater or with lefs energy ; it feems reafonable, that they, as well as adjeftives, fliould admit of increafe or of decreafe in their fignification ; which is probably the cafe in • all languages. But in every language that we know, it is done by means of adverbs, and not by varying the termination of the verb : for this would have added unneceffarify to the complexnefs of that attributive, which in moft languages is complex enough already. Thus we fay in Englifh, Brutus loved money much, Cato loved it more, Cralius loved it exceedingly. So in Latin, amat, magis amaf, -ockementer amat. Such adverbs as exprefs the meaning of attributives, may admit = of comparifon, if the attribute itfelf be capable of more and lefs. Thus diu^ for a lo7ig time, is varied into diutius and diuti/Jrmc ; Jridte, . in ayio///Z> manner, or fool i (lily, \x\\o Jlultius z.wA. JlultiJ]ime ; prope, . in a ?iear fituation, into propius, and proxime, &cc. So in Engiifli we fay, adverbially, long, longer, . very long ; fooliflily, more foolifhiy, moft fooliflily ; near, nearer, neareft or next. Thofe words admit not of comparifon, which denote what is fo definite as to be unfufceptible of more and lefs. Quality, fays Ariftotle, admits of more and lefs ; but. fubftance does not. If this be allowed, it follows, that fubftantives do not adriiit of com- • ])arifon, but that attributives do. Goliah was taller and Jlronger than David ; but David was as much a male of the human l])ecies as Goliah. If we fay of any one, that he is more a man than another, we give to the noun the fcnfe of an attributive; for the meaning muft Chap.II. OF LANGUAGE. 3^5 mufl: be, that he is more tnanly, or that he pofTcfles fome other good quaUties m a higher degree. So when Pope fays, of a certain perfon, tliat he is " a tradefman, meek, and much a liar" tlie lafl phrafc is the fame with much given to lying. And when the Scripture declares, of the pharifee's profelyte, that \\qis tnore a child of hell, the mean- ing is, that he is }7J07-e liable to punifhment, bccaufe more wicked ; and therefore, the words a child of hell, have the import of an adje6live. Pronouns, as they fupply the place of nouns, mufl:, like them, be incapable of comparifon. It is true, we fay in Englifli the z'cry fame, and in Plautus we find Ipfjimus the fuperlative of ipfe or ipfus. But thefe are redundancies. For the fame, and ipfe, exprefs all that can be meant by the very fame, and ipfjimus. Many fuch fuper- fluities find their way into tlie language of converfation j but in folemn and elegant flyle it is better to avoid them. Adje6livcs, whereof the meaning is already as extcnfive as it can be, as omnis, cundiiis, totus, univerfus -, and thofe that denote exact figure, or definite quantity or number, admit not of degrees of comparifon, bccaufe they are unfufceptible of more :ind lefs. Seven grains of fand are as much and as really feven, as feven planets. y[-^ two foot rule is as much a two-foot rule as yours. One circle cannot be more circular than another. We may fay, however, that oxit figure is more circular than ^wo\\\eaking of time Cliap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 3%. time pad, or of time future, men may have occafion to allude to-- (ijfFercnt periods or extcnfioiis of paft: or future time. And hence, in all the European languages we know, and probably in many other languages, there are in verbs fevcral preterites and futures. Thus, in Engliih, I did it, I was doing it, J have dme it, I had. done //,. are plainly diflinft preterites: iimK I Jhall do it, IJhall be doing it, 1 am about to do it, I fhalL have done it, convey different ideas in regard, to the tranfadlions of future time. But, in defcribing the neceffary times or tenfcs of verbs, which is a curious pait of fcience, and the moft difficult thing, perhaps, in the grammatical art, I muft be fomewhut more particular. As the verbs, that fignlfy to a£i and to be aBed upon, are of all verbs the moft complex, and muft- therefore have as great a variety of tenfcs as any other verbs can have, I fliall confine myfelf to them. in the following analyfis of the tenfes. And when I have diftri- buted the tenfes of adive verbs Into their Icvcral clafies, and ex-^ plained . the nature of each, the fubject may be prefumed to be fufficiently illuftrated.. The firft attempt that was made m this nation,, fo far as I know, towards a philofophical analyfis of the tenfes, may be feen in a gram- mar pnblilhed in Queen Anne's time, and recommended by tlis Tatler, which is commonly called Steele's Grammar. It is in fomc refpefls more complete, than any other . grammar of the Englifli tongue that I. have met with j and difcovers a preciiion and an acutenefs not to be found in the other writings of Sir Richard Steele; whence I am inclined to think it is not his. Indeed, from the variety of ftyle and matter, as well as from the Dedication to the Qneen, which is fubfcribed. T^'t- ^;^//'i)rj, it would fccm to have been the work of feveral. hands. — About twenty years after, Do61:or Clarke, in his very learned notes on Homer's Iliad, propofcd an arrangement of the tenfes ; which, though imperfe 51, is ingenious,- 4 ' and 384 THE THEORY Part II. and did certainly throw light upon the fubjed. — Mr. Harris, in his Hermes, publiflied in the year one thoufand {even hundred and fifty one, gave a more complete account of the tenfes, than any preceed- ing grammarian. His theory has however been objected to, in many particulars, by the author of a late work On the origi?i and progrefs of language ; who has framed a new one, and a better, which he illuftrates with great learning, and grammatical (kill — I have looked into all thefe authors ; but, though 1 have received ufeful information from each, efpecially from the laft, I am not perfetlly fatisfied with any one of them. As there is fomething peculiar in each of their fchemes, fo is there in that which follows. The truth is, that this is a fubje6l of great nicety; and, being withal very complex, it is no wonder that it fliould appear in different lights to different perfons. That I fliould think favourably of my own theory, is natural ; but it would be arrogance in me to pre- fume, that others will look upon it with equal partiality. It is impofTible to analyfe the Tenfes, without continual reference to fome one language or other. If we take our ideas of them fiom the Greek and the Latin, we fliall be inclined to think, that nine tenfes, or ten, or perhaps more, may be ufeful, or even necefTary, in language. But if we were to judge of them according to the rules of fome other tongues, we fliould greatly reduce their number : no more than two, thepajl and the future, being acknowledged by the Hebrew grammarian. This ought to be kept in mind, that we may not multiply tenfes without necelTity : at the fame time let it not be forgotten, that, without reafoning from the analogy of the Greek and the Latin, one could not do juftice to the fubje6l j thofe being of all known languages the beft cultivated, and the moft com- prehenfive. Befides, in a fpeculation of this nature, redundance is lefs faulty than defci5l. The more minutely we difcriminate the tenfes, the more clearly we fliall fee from what modifications of human thought they derive their origin. Some Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 385 Some will not allow any thing to be a tcnfe, but what in one inflc6led word exprefies an affirmation with time : for that thofe parts of the verb are not properly called tcnfes, which affunie that appearance by means of auxiliary words. At this rate, in Englifli, we fliould have twotenfes only, the prefect and the pa/i, intheaclive verb, and in the paflive no tenfes at all. But this is a needlefs nicety, and, if adopted, would introduce confufion into the Gram- matical art. If amaveram be a tcnfe, why fliould not amatus fueratn ? If / heard be a tenfe, / did hear, I have heardy and Ijhall hear, muft be equally entitled to that appellation. The Tenfes of A6live verbs I divide, fiift, in refpcfl of time, into Definite and hidcfinite. Thofe parts of the verb that exprefs time indefinitely may be called Aorijis. The word is Greek, and figni- fies indefinite : but the forms of the verb denoted by it are not pe- culiar to the Greek tongue, but muft be in all languages, whether Grammarians take notice of them or not. And though, in the Greek Grammar, two aorifis only of pafi time are mentioned, it will appear, that there may be, and in moft languages pi'obably are, aoiifts of the future, and even of the prefent, as well as of the paft. I. I . When I fay, I read, or I am reading, I exprefs prefent time definitely : for what I affirm of myfelf holds true at this prefent moment, but perhaps will not be true the next, and certainly was not true an hour ago, when I was afleep. But when I fay, " A " merry heart maketh a chearful countenance," I exprefs what is always true, what is not limited to any definite time, and what may be faid at any period of prefent time : that is, in pronouncing this maxim, I ufe the prefent tenfe, but I fpeak of prefent time in general, or indefinitely ; or, in other words, I ufc an aorifi of the prefent. In all general affertions of tliis nature, exprefled by prefent time, the tenfe is the fame : as. Manners make the man j % D The 386 THE THEORY Part IL The merciful man regardcth the life of his beaft ; The tender mer- cies of the wicked are cruel; A wife fon maketh a. glad father > Grande dolori ingenium ejl ; Two and two are four, &c. And as all men muft occafionally fpeak in this manner, eveiy cultivated language muft have a fimilar contrivance; though there may be, and certainly are, many languages, in which the verb affumes no particular form in order to exprefs it ; I mean, no form different from the definite prefent. How then, you will fay, is it known ? I anfwer. By the fenfe of the words. If a verb of the prefent tenfe exprefs time indefinitely, that tenfe is truly an aorift of the prefent, whatever be its form or termination. The Hebrews, whofe verbs have no prefent, exprefs the meaning of this tenfe by the future. They who fpeak Erfe do fo too, though that language has a prefent. And in fa61: we often do the fam?, without ambiguity, or any awkward deviation from the idiom of the Englifli tongue. We may fay, A prudent man conjiders before he adls, or, A prudent man moill confider before he a6l : A wife fon maketh a glad father, or, A wife fon will make a glad father. Thefe and the like exprefiions are equally conneded with the prefent and with the future. We are not fuppofed to exclude the future, when we affirm their truth with refpecl to prefent time : and if the law of the language required that we (hould always exprefs them in future time, we fliould not be imderftood to exclude the prefent, even in fentences like tlie following ; Two and two will be four. Virtue will be praifeworthy, Honefty ivill be the beft policy. The other prefent, called here the Definite prefent, and exem- plified by Lego^ I read, is, in Hebrew, fupplied, fometimes by other tenfcs, but, moft commonly, by a prefent participle active (called Benoni *) ; and, in particular cafes, by an imperfonal ijh, fignifying there * This participle ferves other purpofes. It is fometimes a verbal noun. Thus mofer is not only tradens, but alfo traditor: Jhofet is bolb JuJiians znd judex, Shofeliir., the Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 387 there is, or // is, which ahvays has the import of the j)rcrcnt, and fuits equally all perfons, genders, and numbers. So that, though in Hebrew verbs there is, properly fpeaking, no prefent tenfe, yet there are in the language feveral contrivances that anfwcr the fame purpofe. ylffirmation •with rcfpeSi to prefent time is indeed fo nccef- fary in all nations, that we cannot well conceive how any languar'-e iliould be unprovided of the means of exprcfiing it. I. 2. Secondly, when I fay, Scribam, * Grapfo, I JJjall writc^ I utter a promife, in which future time is exprefied indefinitely ; for I do not allot the a6lion of writing to any particular or definite part of time future. This, therefore, is an aorift of the future. — But when I fay, Scripturusfutn, -f- }}iello graphein, lam about to writey or / a?n goitig to write, I exprefs future time definitely, or without an aorift : for the meaning is, that I fliall write immediately, or foon, after making the declaration. And this is, by moll Gram- marians, allowed to have been the import of that paulo-pofl-futurum, which is found in the paflive verbs of the Greeks ; where X tupfomai fignifies, indefinitely, or by the aorift, I foall be beaten; but II tetupfomai, the paulo-poft-future, denotes, I fliall be immedi- thi plural of the latter, is the title of that book which we call Judges. The name is no doubt the fame with that given by Latin authors to the chief magiftrates of Car- thage, Suffetes. See Liv. xxviii. 37. The Hebrew, the language of Canaan, as Ifaiah calls it, and that of the Fhenicians, of whom the Carthaginians were a colony, were originally the fame, with perhaps fome difference of dialed!. But the Romans, like the Ephraimites, could not pronounce the letter Schin, and therefore turned it into S, adding, as was ufual with them, a termination from their own language. — Some- times in the New Teftament we find the prefent participle a<£live ufed in the fame way. Thus TTsifa^uf is the tempter, and j3a7r7(^wv the Baptljl. — Benoni, the name of tlie adlive prefent participle, fignidcs ifitermeJiate : and the participle is fo called, perhaps, becaufe it comes as it were between the two Hebrew tenfes, the part and the future. It is fpelled differently from the name Benoni, which Rachel when dying gave her new- born fon, (Genef. xxxv. i8); though when exprefied by Roman chara6lers they appear the fame. 302 ately 388 T H E T H E O R Y Part 11. ately beaten, or I am about to be beaten. This, both in Latin and Englifli, we expreis by means of an auxihary word or two, &um fcripturns, I am about to write : of which it is remarkable, that the auxiliary verb fum, I am, points at prefent time ; while tlie participle ym/'/«r«j, atout to write, implies future time; whence we gather, that this form of the verb fignifies time future joined to time prefent, or, in other words, that the fu- turity fpoken of is prefently to commence. — The Hebrews have no paulo-poft- future; but by joining to their future fuch ad- verbs as quickly, immediately, foon, &c. they eafily exprefs the meaning. The fame thing may, I fuppofe, be done in all other lan-^uages. Confequently, the paulo-poft -future is not a necef- fary tenfe. As general maxims may be fignified by the aorift of the prefent, fo the aorift of the future is often ufed in legiflative fentences : — Thou^^W/ not kill, T\\o\xJhalt not fteal; in which it is obvious, that no particular period of future time is meant, but future time indefinitely, * aorijlos, or in general. It is thy duty, at all times, and on all occafwns, to abftain fi-om theft and from murder. Here again we fee a co-incidence of the future with the prefent. By a change of the phrafe," every precept of this fort may be referred fo prefent time : It is thy duty not to kill ; // is thy duty not to fteal : or, I command thee not to kill ; I forbid thee to fteal, &c. — The Prefent, though it cannot be called apartof the Future, is however an introduction to it. But the Future and the Paft are of no kin- dred ; and, being feparated by the Prefent, can never be con- tiguous. I. 3. That there is an aoriji oj the pajl, is eafily proved. The Greek verbs, and the Englidi too, have a particular form to exprefs it, without the aid of auxiliaiy words, ■f Egrapfa, I wrote, or ^ Idid Chap. ir. OF LANGUAGE. 389 J did larite, denotes, tliat the a6\ion of writing is />^, but refers to no particular period of pall time. When I fay, " He fcfit me a " letter, and I anfwered h," both fent and afifwercd are zoi'i([s, and point at pad time indefinitely : the letters fpoken of may, for any thing that appears in the fentence, have heen written and fent a year ago, or twenty years ago, or laft fiimmer, or laft week, or yefterday ; for the tenfes refer to no one portion of part time more than another. — But if I fay, •' He fent me a letter, and I have " a?ifwered it," the verb he fent is an aorift ; but I have anfwered is not an aorift ; for it points at paft time more definitely, and means, that I anfwered it jujl now, or lately. — It is worth while to attend to this auxiliary verb, by which we exprefs definite paft time ; I have imfwcred ; I ha've, being the prefent tenfe, points at time prefent j and anfwered, being the partici[)Ie of the paft, refers to time paft : whence we infer, that the time expreflal by thefe words, / havi anfwered, is a mixture of the prefent with the paft, or rather, tht paft tertninating in or near the prefent. And that this is the true charafter of the tenfe in queftion, will appear* more clearly by and by. We fee then, that verbs exprefs not only Prefent, Paft, and Future time j but alfo time paft, prefent, and future, either, firft^ indefinitely, that is, by aorifts, or, fecondly, definitely. But obferve, that the Englifh auxiliary have is not always defi- nite, even when joined to the preterite participle. ♦' I have heard " it faid, I know not when, or by whom, that Charles the fecond " on his death-bed declared himfelf a papift." Here the words I have heard, are fo far from being definite in regard to time, that they may allude to a fadl which happened ten, twenty, thirty years ago, or not one year ago, or to a fad of which no body knows when it happened. Obferve, .39«? THE THEORY Part IT. Obferve, further, that, in order to define or afcertain tune ex- actly, the verb alone, even in the definite tenfes, is not fuflicient, but mufl: be illuftrated by adverbs, or other words fignificant of exact time. For our notions in regard to the extent of time vary according to the nature of the actions fpoken of : and if thefe be important, or of long continuance, or not ufual, we are apt to •confider the time, which precedes or follows them, as fhort, be- caufe they make a ftrong impreffion, and appear of great magni- tude. A year after one's houfe is finiflied, one may fay, " I ha've ^* Jinified my \\o\xk :" but, " 1 have anfioered Alexander's letter," is underftood to have a fhorter retrofpeft ; unlefs the writing of the letter was a work of great labour and time. In like manner, " I am to build a houfe," may be faid a year before one begins to build ; but, ** I am to take a walk," exprelles a very near futu- xity. And therefore, as the exprellion of time by verbs, efpecially •of time paft and future, is rather relative than abfolute, adverbs, and other words, come to be necefl^ary, when we would fpeak with precifion of paft and future time. " I zvajuji goitig to take a ■** walk ; — I fliall build a houfe this fummer i — I have this moment *' finidied my letter," &c. IL The tenfes of aftive verbs may be divided, fecondly, i?i re- fpeB of the mode of a6iion fignified, into Perfedt, which denote com- plete aBion, and Im.perfect, which denote incomplete aSiion. A late author mentions another clafs of tenfes, which he calls Indefinite, and of which he fays, that they denote a6lion, but with- out fpecifying, whether it be complete or incomplete. And, as an example, he gives the aorift of the paft, * Egrapfa, I wrote, or / did write. But I cannot fee, that there is any ground for this tdivifion. No other grammarian, fo far as I know, either antient .€!• modern, has taken notice of it j while the diftribution of tenfes into Chap. ir. OF LANGUAGE. 391.. into perfeH and imperfeB Teems to be as old as grammar itfelf. ■ And the learned Author, wliom I allude to, affirms, that " hi our " grammatical inquiries we cannot quit the footfteps of the- *' antients, without the greateft hazard of going wrong." This novelty, however, I reje6V, not bccaufe it is new, but becaufe I do - not underftand it. I can conceive a complete a6\ion, that is, an aftion, which has had, or is to have, a beginning and an'cnd : I can alfo conceive an incomplete adion, that has had a beginning, but which is not, or is not faid to be, ended. But an a6lion, which, though it mufthave had a beginning, is conddered as neither ended nor continued, as neither complete nor incomplete, I cannot conceive at all. When I fay, *' I wrote a letter," thepa/i time is indefiinte, but a cmnplete a£fion is plainly fignified ; if the letter had not been finiflied, " I was writing," would have been the proper tenfe. In like man- ner, " I wrote," though it does not imply, that the thing written, whether book or letter, was finiflied, (for no particular writing is fpecified) does yet fignify, that the a^i of ivriting was both begun and ended. If it had not been begun^ it could not be referred to pafl time; and if it had not been ended, or difcontinned, (for thefe words applied to the fimple a(5t of writing are of the fame import) it would have been ftill going on ; and the affirmation concerning it would be to this purpofe, " I have been wiiting all the morning, ** and am ftill writing." — But, to return to the fecond general divifion of tenfes, into Perfect, denoting complete aEliorii and Im- perfect, which denote incomplete aSlion. II. I. The aorift of. the prefent may be faid to denote incom- plete nation. When I foy, " A merry heart 7naketh a chearful " countenance," I exprefs by the word maketh an a6lion, or ope- ration, which is always a doing, and never can be faid to be done and 0VC7-. For the time never yet was, fince man was made, when gladnefs of heart did not difplay itfelf in the countenance, and, . 4 while 392 THE THEORY Part II. while human nature remahis unaltered, the time will never come when it lliall ceafe to do fo. Further, the definite prefent, I mean the prefent that is definite in refpe6t of time, does alfo denote incomplete a6tion. While I am writing a letter, I fay Scribo, I write, or / am writing -, which implies, that part of the writing is done, and that part of it is not done ; that the aftion is begun, but not ended. But the moment the writing is completed, I fay, or I may fay, *' I have written ;" in which are comprehended thefe three thing?. Firft, that the action is complete ; for which reafon the tenfe is called perfedlum, the perfedl : a word, which, from the frequent ufe of it in our grammars, may fuggeft to us the idea o{ pajl time-, but which in reality fignifies perfefi or complete action : for, that there is ^.perfeB of \\\^ future, as well as of m\\q paji, will appear in the fequel. — Secondly, the words " I have written" imply, that the a6lion is not only complete, but alfo pajl ; for which reafon, the tenfe is c^WqA preteritum perfeBum, the complete paft, or the preterite perfeft, or more briefly the preterperfeB. — Thirdly, thefe words imply, that the a6lion isjuji now completed, or 'very lately. From this relation of the preterperfe^l to prefent time, (for, as I already obferved, it denotes paft time ending in the prefent, or near it,) the Stoicks, who were accurate grammarians, called it the perfeB or complete prefent : but, as it denotes what is done, and, confequently, what is not now a-doing, I think it better to call it by its ordinary name, the preterperfeiSt. For this tenfe the Greeks have a particular form * gegrapha ; the Englifti, and other moderns, exprefs it by an auxiliary verb joined to the participle, / have written. But it is remarkable, that for this tenfe the Latin verb has no particular inflexion ; for the fame Latin word denotes both the preterperfedt and the aorift of the 8 paft. Chap. IT. O F L A N G U A G E. 393 pad. Scn'pft, forexamjile, fignifics, not on\y I ivroie, or I did -write, (referring to paft time indefinitely) but alfo, I have written, referring to an aftion paft and lately compleated. Hence arifes a fmall am- biguity in the ufc of tlie Latin verb, from which the verbs of many •other languages are free. But, by means of adverbs, and other -auxiliary words tliat hang loofely upon the fyntax of language, this ambiguity in the Latin tongue may be prevented, wherever it is likely to prove inconvenient. And here we learn to correct an error in fome of the common grammars ; where amavi is tranflated / have loved; as if it were a true preterperfed, and nothing elfe, like the Gxzt\^'^ pcphileka: whereas it is both a preterpcrfect, and an aorift of the paft, an- fwering both to pephileka, and to f ephilcfa ; and fliould therefore be rendered, I loved, I did love, or / have loved. And children fliould be taught, that, though thefe three Englifli phrafcs are here conne6ted by the particle or, and are every one of them cxprefled by the Latin amavi, they are not of the fame import ; for that the laft may fometimes differ confiderably in fignificaiion from the other two. — One miftake leads to another. The imperfect amabam is in the common grammars rendered, / loved or did love -, as if it were the aorift of the paft, and the fame with the Greek ephilefa : where- as, fo far as it is really the imper/e^, it correfponds to the Greek + epbiloim, and, as will appear by aixi by, ought to have been ti'anflated / was loving. I do not however affirm, that it is never an aorift of the paft. But, in good authors, that is not its common ufe J and when it is, the tenfe lofes that charader which entitles it to be called imperfeSi. The Hebrews, having but one preterite, muft confound, as the Latins do, the prcterperfeft with the aorift of the paft, and make 3 E one 394 THE THEORY Part II. one wortVferve for both. When Job received the news of thofe accumulated calamities, which at once divefted him of all his pro- perty, and of every domeltick comfort, he rent his clothes, fell down upon the ground, and worfliipped j and, according to our tranfla- tion,- faid, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away : " bleffed be tlie name of the Lord." Here, (as the learned Author of the origin and progrefs of Language obferves) the two preterites are elegantly diftinguiflied ; the firll being the aorift, the other the preterperfe6f. " The Lord gave-," this happened formerly, but at what period of pall time is not faid : — and, " the Lord hath *' taken away;" this had juft happened, or very lately, fo that it might be faid to be felt at the prefent moment. In the Hebrew, the tenfe is in both claufes the fame : and the pafiage literally tranflated would be;, " The Lord gave, and the Lord took away," or perhaps, " The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken " away." Job's meaning may, no doubt, be underftood from thefe expreiTions ; but feems to be more emphatically (ignified in our Englilh bible, than by either of them, or even by the original He- biew itfelf. — The preterperfect, therefore, as difllnguillied from the aorift preterite, is rather an ufeful, than a neceflary, tenfe.. In Latin, by means of an adverb of prefent time joined to the prete- rite, its full import might in many cafes be given ; though not fo elegantly, perhaps, as in Greek or Englilh. Jehova dedit j et nunc abftulit Jehova : fit nomen Jehovae benedi6tum. The Latins, as Mr. Harris and other learned authors have ob- ferved, fometimes ufe their perfe61: tenfe, to denote the annihilation or difcontinuance of the attribute exprefied by the verb : fuit, for example, to fignify Z^i? has been, he is no more; "vixit, he has lived, he is dead; and, at the conclufion of Academical harangues, dixi, I have done /peaking, I amfilent. In this view, the vtvhsfiiit, vixit, and dixi are to be confukred as preterperfeB ; that is, as expreffing 8 an Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE.. 393 an attribute conncftcd with that definite pajl time which terminates in ornear tJje prefent. — Thus, when Cicero had, by virtue of a (bit of cU6latorial authority conferred on him by the Senate for a temporary purpofe, put to death fome noblemen of Rome, who had bi-cn concerned in CatiUne's confpiracy, he appeared in the forum, and, in the hearing of all the people, who were anxious to know the event, cried out with a loud voice, " Vixenmt" l\\zy have lived ; that is, they are dead; " their life continued down to this time has " jufl now terminated." Perhaps Cicero might have a fcruple •to ufe a more explicit term ; death being one of thofe words that the Romans thought it ominous to pronounce on certain occafions. Or perhaps, though what he had done was conftitutional, and of great publick utility, yet, being extraordinary, and in a- popular flate fomewhat hazardous at fuch a time, he might wifh to mitigate the general opinion of its feverity, by announcing it in fucli a manner, as fhould fix the attention of the people rather upon the lives and crimes of the confpirators, than upon their punifliment. Virgil has introduced the fame idiom, with the happieft effect, in one or two paffages of the Eneid. On the night of the defti-uc- tion of Troy, Eneas, warned in a dream that the city was betrayed and on fire, ftarts from his bed, and, alarmed by the uproar of the battle, and the glare of the conflagration, rufhes out in arms to attack the enemy. In his way he meets Panthus the prieft of Apollo. What is the fiate of our affairs, Panthus, faid he j what is to be done .? Panthus with a groan replied, Venit fumma dies, et induclabile tempus Dardanice : fiiimns Troes, fuit Ilium, et ingcns Gloria Teucrorum. " Our lafl hour is come: Troy has been: we have been Trojans." As if he had faid, <' Trojans, and their city, and all their glory, are Q E 2 ' "to 396 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. *♦ to be reckoned among the things that have been, but are now no " more." — The fame poet, fpeakmg of Ardea, an antient Rutiliaii town, has thefe words, et nmic magnum manet Ardea nomen, Sed fortunay«//. " Ardea is flill a great name ; but its fortune has been, or is over " and gone." Rueus, indeed, the learned editor of Virgil for the ufe of the Dauphin, explains the word otherwife, and makes it fignify, that *' fortune had fo determined :" and in this he is coun- tenanced by Scaliger. But the interpretation here given is more fuitable to the context, as well as to the folemn phrafeology of the poet; and is, befides, warranted byTaubmannus and Mr, Harris. I faid, that the nature of the tenfe we now fpeak of is more fully expreffed by the common appellation oi preterperfeSl, than by that of the perfeB prefenty which is the name the Stoicks gave it. And fo indeed it is for the mofl part. But I ought to have added, that this tenfe in Greek does fometimes imply, not paft time ter- minating in or near the prefent, nor even complete aftion, but pajl and prefent time wilted; in which cafe it becomes a fort of prefent, and, in Doftor Clarke's opinion, fliould be called, not the preterperfeft, but the prefent perfeB : as in the following line of Homer : * Kluthi men, Argurotox', hos Chrufen amphibebekas ; " Hear me, O God of the filver bow, who hafl been and art the ♦' guardian of Chryfe." Mr, Harris feems to think, that, in Virgil, the preterperfe^ often imphes the fame fort of time with the prefent. That this is never the cafe, I will not affirm. But, if I miftake not, moft of the paffages he has quoted will be found to have a more exprelTive * KAuS-i y.i'J Acyv^cro^' l^ x?^'^'''" c^i^'pi^i^weci. Iliad, i, 4 meaning, Chap. ir. OF LANGUAGE. 397- mcaniiigi if wc fuppofe the tenfe hi queftion to fignify p^Jl time.. For example, Si bracliia forte remijify Atque ilkim in prasceps prono rapit alveiis amni. * I would render thus : " If he who rows againft: the ftrf;am has infrr^ •* 7wV/^^/ for a moment the exertion of his arms, headlong L-. is " inftantly born by the current of the river." For aique is here ufed in the antique fenfe, and denotes vmncdiately, as in that line of Ennius, Atque atque ad muros properat Romana Juventus. — So in the defcription of the night-ftorm of thunder, lightning, and rain, Terra t remit, fugerc fcrn2 — "]■ *' The earth is trembling" — you feel it, and therefore that com- m-otion is prcfcnt : but, when you look around you, fugere ferce, you find that the wild beafts have difappeared, and therefore had fled away, before you lifted up your eyes. — Again, v*'hen the poet fays, tardis ingens ubi flexlbus errat Mincius, et tenera prceiexit arundine ripas : ;{; " The great Mincius rolls (lowly winding along, ^wd' fringes (oi' " borders) his banks with reeds ;" I agree witli Mr. Harris, that the two verbs are the fame in refpecl of time; but I do not find, that the tenfes are different. The learned author probably miftook the prefent of pratexo for the preterit of prcetego : which laft is a word that Virgil never ufes, and which I cannot recollecl to have feen in any ClalTick of the Auguftan age. Once more, when Virgil fays, of a fliip, ilia noto citius, celerique fagitta; Ad terram/«^/V, et portu fe condldit alto. || * Georg. U vcr. 202. ■\ Georg. i. ver. 330. 1 Georg. iii. ver, ij, j| .l^neid. v. " Swifter ^ .398 THE THEORY Part II. " Swifter than the wind, or an arrow, fhe^/a to land ;"— this is prefent; " and now," before I can fpeak the word, *' {he has run *' into the harbour." There is in this example the fame divei fity of time, as if 1 were to fay: " See how fwiftiy the boy purfues " the butterfly -, he runs — and now he has caught it." — But of this, enough . II. 2. The tenfes of pafl time denote two forts of actions ; firfl:, a6tions complete or perfect, and fecondly, actions incomplete or imp erf e SI. Firft, I fay, the tenfes of pafl time denote complete aflions. Of this kind, for the mofl part, is the preterperfeft above defcribed, which expreffes paft time as ending in the prefent, or near it. — Of this kind, alfo, is the aorift of the paft * egrapja, I wrote, or / did write; as already obferved. And of the fame kind is the tenfe called PlufquamperfeBum', which denotes complete aftion connefted, not with prefent, but with paft time. That this is its import, will appear from an ex- ample. " He came to forbid me to write, but I had written be- «' fore he came." Here obferve, that the words / had written refer, firft, to a complete aft ion ; fecondly, to paft time -, and, thirdly, to an aBlon that was prior in time to another aSlion which is alfo paft. This is the peculiar meaning of the plufquampeife6l : fo that in three refpetts it refembles the preterperfe£l, namely, in denoting complete aBion, paft time, and paft time defnite ; but from the preterperfeft it differs in this one relpeft, that the time ex- preffed by it terminates not in time prefent, but at fome point of the time that is paft. And the double reference which it bears to paft time appears in our complex way of cxprefling it, I had writ' ten ; in which it is obfervable, that the auxiliary had and the par- ticiple written are both fignificant of paft time. The Greeks and Latins Chap. 11. O F L A N G U A G E. 399 Latins elegantly exprefs this tenfe by one word, which is derived immediately from the preterperfe<5l, to which indeed it bears a nearer affinity than to any other tenfe : fcripfi, fcripfcram ; *• gegra- pba, egegraphein. — So much for thofe tenfes of paft time, which denote complete a^ion. Secondly, there is alfo a preterite tenfe, which denotes incom- plete aSlion: Scribebam, I ivas writing. In this expreffion it is implied, that the atlion is paji, that it continued, or might have continued for fome time, but that it was mtftnified. The tenfe therefore is very properly called the imperfeSl preterite. The Greeks gave it a name fignifying f extended; and defcribed it more par- ticularly, by faying, that " it is the extended and incomplete part " of the paft." — Eneas, in Viigil, fpeaking of the deftruaion of Troy, relates, that, after he had conducted his father and fol- lowers to a place of fafety, he returned alone to the burnin"- city, in quefl of his wife Creufa, who was miffing. He went firft to his own houfe, thinking, fiie might have wandered thither : but there, he fays, Irruerant Danai, et tedium omne tcnebant j " the Greeks had rnped in, and were pojfejing the whole houfe.'^" Obferve the effeft of the plufquamperfeft, and imperfe6l, tenfes. The Greeks had- rujhed m,- irruerant-, that Q.&i\oi\ was over, and had been com pleated before he came. : but the a6l of polfeffing the houfe, tenebant, was not over, nor JiniJJjcd, but Jii/l cojitiriuing. This example is taken notice of by Mr. Harris. I fliall rive an- other from Virgil, and one from Ovid. In the account of the paintings, which Eneas is furprifed to find in the temple of Juno at Cartilage, they being all, it feems, on the fubjecl of the Trojan war, the poet mentions the following cir- cumlfance, Ter .400 THE THEORY Part II. 'Ter circum Hiacos raptaverat He6lora muros, Exanimumque auro corpus vendebat Achilles : wlilch informs us both of the a6lion of the pidure, and of the event that was fuppofed to have preceded it. *' Achilles had *" dragged the body of He6lor three times round the walls of " Troy j" — this is the previous event ; — " and was ft'llt?ig,'" that is, was reprefented in the a6l of delivering, •' the body to Priam, " and receiving the ranfom." All this is eafily conceived -, and an ..excellent fubjed it is for a piclure. But if, without diftinguifhing the tenfes, we were to underftand the paflage, as Dryden has tranflated it, Thrice round the walls of Troy Achilles drew The corpfe of He<5lor, whom in fight he flew, &c, ■^'e fliould be inclined to tliink, that Virgil knew very little of the laws, or of the powers, of painting. For, according to this in- tc;"pretation, Achilles niuil have been painted in the a6l of dragging HfSlor three times round Troy, and alfo in the adl: of delivering the body to Priam. Pitt, Trapp, and Ogilvie, in their Tranfla- -tions, have fallen into the fame impropriety ; a proof, that the theory of tenfes has not always been attended to, even by men of learning. When Dido had jufl: ftruck tlie fatal blow, and lay in the ago- oiies of death, tlie behaviour of her Sifter, as defcribed by Dryden, is fomewhat extraordinary. Anna was at a little diftance from the pile, on which lay the unfortunate queen : but, hearing of what had happened, flie ran in diftra6lion to the place, and addreffed JDido in a long fpeech. That being ended, She mounts the pile with eager hafte. And in her arms the dying queen embraced ; Her Chap. II. OF L A N G U A G E. 401 Her temples chafed, and her own garments tore,* To ftanch the fti'eaming blood, and clcanfe tlie gore. The fpcech is very fine, and veiy pathctick ; in \'iigil, at Icall:, it is fo : but, as it appears in Dryden, (and Pitt commits the fame miflake) never was any thing of the kind more unfeafonablc. TIic poor lady was dying, the blood ftrcaming from her wound ; and yet this affe6lionate fifter (for fuch we know flic was) would not attempt any thing for her relief, till flie had declaimed for fourteen lines together. — But, from Virgil's own account we learn, that Anna did not lofc a moment. She had moimted the lofty pile, and •was holding her dying filler to her bofom, and weeping, and endea- vouring to ftop the etfufion of blood, all the while that thofe paf- fiionate exclamations were breaking from her. Sic fata, gradus evaferat altos Semianimemque finu germanam amplexayi^r^?/ Cum gemitu, atque 2iXxo%ficcabat vefle cruorcs. This the Englirti poet would have known, if he had not confounded the imperfedl tenfe with the perfect and plufquamperfccl, and fuppofed them all to mark the fame fort of time and of adion. Similar blunders are frequent in Dryden, and in all the other tranflators of Virgil that I have ittn. In Ovid, when the Flood was abated, Deucalion, having con- cluded a very tender fpeech to Pyrrha with this fentiment, " It ** has pleafed the Gods, that we are the only furvivors of the whole " human race j" the poet adds, Dixerat ; ttjlebant : placuit celefte precari Numen. — * Confidering Dido's condition, to dafe h.r temples was abfurd, if not cruel: and (o infinuate, that Anna on this occafion did not fpare her own clothes, is ridiculouny tsifling. Virgil fays not a word of chafing temples, or of tearing garments. 3 F "He 402 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. " He ^ad done fpeaki?ig ; and they were weeping ; when it oc- " curred to them to iniploie the aid of the Goddefs of the place." The fpeech had been for fome time conckided ; then followed a paufc, during which they wept in filencc ; and, while they were weeping, they formed this pious refolution. The plufquamperfect, followed by the imperfeft, is here very emphatical, and gives in two words an exa6t view of the behaviour of this forlorn pair ; which would be in a great meafure loft, if, confounding the tenfes in Engliih, we were to tranflate it, as is vulgarly done; " He " fpoke, and they wept ;" which marks neither the continuance of the laft adlion, nor that it was fubfequent to the firft. — If chil- dren are not well inftru6led in the nature of the feveral tenfes, it is impoflible for them to enter into the delicacies of claffical ex- preffion. The Latins elegantly ufe this imperfe6l tenfe to fignify aflions that are cuftomary, and often repeated. Thus dicebat may imply, he was facing, or he was wont to fay ; the fame with foIei>at dicer e. For actions that have become habitual, or which are frequently repeated, may be faid to be always going on, and may therefore with philofophick propriety be expreiled by the imperfe6l tenfe. It alfo deferves notice, that the antient painters and ftatuaries, both Greek and Latin, made ufe af this tenfe, when they put their names to their performances. On a famous ftatue of Hercules ftill extant are infcribed thefe words, * Glycon Athcnaios epoiei, Gly- con Athenienfisy^«V<^rt/, Glycon an Athenian w^j mah'ng it. The phrafe was thought modeft ; becaufe it impUed, that the artift had indeed been at work upon the ftatue, but did not pretend to fay that he had finiftied it, or made it complete : which would have been the meaning, if he had given it in the aorift -f- epoi{fe, Jecit, A made Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 405 made it. Some of our printers have adopted the fame tenfe at the beginning or end of their books ; *♦ Excudebat Hcnricus Steplia- *' nus : Excudebant Robertas ct Andreas Fouhs." Ccfar, whofe narrative is not lefs diftinguilhed by its modcfty, than his actions were by their greatnefs, often ufes the impcrfe6V, in fpeaking of himfelf, where I think he would have ufcd the per- fe6l, if he had been fpeaking of another. This muft have been wonderfully pleafing to a Roman ; who would be much more kw- fible of the delicacy, than we arc. Indeed, the belt antient and modern ciiticks, particularly Cicero, Quintilian, and Roger Afcham, fpeak with a fort of rapture of the exquifitc propriety of Cefar's ftyle. And as to his narrative, though he pretended to nothing more, than to write a journal or diary, (for fuch is the meaning of the word, which is vulgarly tranflated Commentaries) — as to his narrative, I lay, Cicero declares, that no man in his fenfes will ever attempt to improve it. The frequency of thefc imperfects in Cefar has, if I miflake not, another ufe : for it keeps the reader continually in mind, that the book was written from day to day, /;/ the midji of bufmcfs, and while the tranfadtions there recorded might be faid \:zx}i\^x to be going on, than to be completed. From the few examples here given it will appear, that the Im- perfect and Plufquamperfefl are very ufeful, and may be the fourcc of much elegant exprefTion ; and that, if one were not taught to diftinguifli, in refpe6l of meaning as well as of form, thefe tenfes from each other, and the preterit from both, one could not pretend to underftand, far lefs to tranflate, any good Claifick author. The want of them, therefore, in Hebrew, muft be a deficiency. Yet, in a language, like the Hebrew, which has been employed chiefly in delivering fentiments and recording faifts, in the fimpleft manner, with little rhetorical art, and without any oftentation of harmoni- ous and elaborate periods, this is not perhaps fo material a deficiency, as at fiift fight it m.ay appear. 3 F 2 For 404 THE THEORY Part II. For fiifV, if we are willing to difpenfe with elegance and energy, the preterit may often be ufed for the plufquamperfect. If I fay, " He came to forbid me to write, but I wrote before he came, " (inftead oi I had written)," the meaning is perceptible enough; though not fo grammatically expreffed as it might have been, nor indeed fo ftrongly. In the tranflation of the fourteenth chapter of St. Matthew, we have thefe words: " And Herod faid unto " his fervants, This is John the Baptiftj he'is rifen from the dead; " and therefore mighty works do flrow forth themfelves in him. " For Herod had /aid /jold on John, and bound him, and put him " in prifon, &c." Here the plufquamperfe6l had laid hold and bound is elegantly ufed. But the Greek, following, as in many other parts of the Gofpels, (efpecially of Matthew's Gofpel) the Hebrew idiom, has the aorift of the preterit : " For Herod, having " laid hold on John, bound him, and put him in prifon." This gives the fenfe j though not fo emphatically, as it is expreffed in the Englifli Bible. * Secondly : The preterit may be ufed, without ambiguity, for the imperfefl. This change might often be made in Cefar, as already hinted. The French _/V^(?/j zwdjefiis are both rendered in Englifli I was. And, inftead of Stephanus cxcudebat, at the bottom of a title-page, if we were to read Stephanus exmdit, the phrafe, though lefs claffical, would be equally intelligible. So liable, indeed, are thefe two tenfes to be confounded, that in fome Latin grammars (as formerly obferved) we find I loved or did love given as the inter- pretation of amabam. Thirdly : The Hebrews do fometimes give the fall fenfe of the p1ufqnamperfe6l, by prefixing, to the infinitive of the verb, or to a fort of verbal noun called a gerund, the word calah, heJiniJJ:edt * Other examples of tlie preterit ufed for the plufqiiamperfcfl:, fee in Luke xix, ij. John V. 13. Apocalyps. xxi. i, or Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 405 or be made an end of . *' As foon as Ifaac made an end of blefTing " Jacob" — might, according to the fyntax of thofe languages that have a plufquamperfcft, be thus rendered without any impropriety, " As foon as Ifaac had blejjed Jacob." * — A fimilar idiom we have in Englifli; as when, inftead of dixerat, we fay, he had done fpeaking, or he had ceafed to fpeak. III. I. It remains now to fliow, that the tcnfes expreffive of future time may alfo denote, firfl Incomplete actions, and fecondly Complete adlions. Fir ft, Scribam, I/halliarite, denotes incomplete a6^ion : for it does not fay, whether I am to write for a long or for a fliort time, or whether I am to finifli what I begin. This part of the verb, there- fore, to which the Greek -f-^v.;^' correfponds, is an imperfecl future ; and is alfo, (as was formerly ihown) an aorill: of the future. In our way of exprefling it, by the auxiliaries Jhall and will, its cha- rader appears manifeft. Shall or will refers to future time inde- finitely; and write refers to an a6lion, which is indeed to begin-, but of whofe completion nothing is faid. In like manner, Scripturus fum, I am abcut to write, though de- finite in regard to time, becaufe it implies, that the atSlion is im- mediately to commence, is yet as much an imperfeSl as the other future, becaufe it fays nothing of the finifliing or compleating of the aftion. But, fecondly, Scripfero, I Jhall have written, or IJljall have done- writing, x^z. pcrfetl future, and denotes complete aclion. And our complex way of putting it in Englifli does fully exprefs its cha- racter ; I pall have written : iov fiall denotes future time, written implies pad aflion ; and have ivritten fignifies complete aSlion, witlv pajl time terminating in the prefent. So that the whole meanings * Genef. xxvii. 30. See alfo Numb, xvi.^ 31, \ ye«\|-w. IS, 4o6 T H E T H E O R Y Part 11. is, that " when a certain time now future comes to be prefent, a *' certain aftion will then, and juft then, be finifhed." — This tenfe the Greek tongue, for all its copioufnefs, cannot exprefs in one word. * Efomai gegraphos is the phrafe for it j efomai the future oi -Yeimi I am, and gegraphos the preterperfeft participle j " I fliall "" be in the condition of having written." The Latin grammarians call It the future of the fiibjun5live mood; for which they are feverely blamed by Dr. Clarke, in his notes upon Homer ; who contends, and I think with reafon, that it is as really indicative^ as Scribam, and Sci-iptns ero. The learned Do6lor calls it the perfedi future. Voflius gives it the fame name; which Ruddiman + approves of: and Mr. Harris, and the Author of a Treatife, On the origin mid ■progrefs of language, defcribe it under the fame charat^ler. — \\\ He- brew, the full impoi t of this tenfe is given by joining the future of calah (he made an end of) to the infinitive or gerund of another verb. Thus, " And it fliall be, v/hen the officers have made an *' end of /peaking unto the people, that they fhall make captains of " the armies to lead the people," — would have been equally juft in refpect of fenfe, and better fuited to the concifenefs of the original, if it had been rendered, " And it fhail be, when the offi.cersf jall have fpoken unto the people," &c. § IV. There is yet another light, in which the tenfes may be ■confidered. Some of them, as we have feen, unite two times (as it were) in one; others exprefs one time only. The former may be called Compound tenfes ; the latter Simple. 1 . Of the Compound Tenfes, one is the pretcrperfe6l || gegrapba^ p^vhich unites the paft vvith the prefent ; as particularly appears in our -way of exprefling it, v/ith an auxiliary of the prefent, I have, and a participle of the paft, ivritten j I have written. * fo-oy.zi 5/£)/faipi;f. ■\ Ti/xi. % Rudiments of the Latin tongue, page 43. ■§ Deuteron. xx. 9. J| yiy^a^x. Another Chap. n. O F L A N G U A G E. 407 Another is the plurqaam]icrfu<5V, Scrip/cram, which unites the fajl with the paft, by intimating, tliat a certain paft action was comj)letcd before another a6lion which is alfo paft. The union of thefc two paft times is alfo fignificd by us, when we join the preterite of the auxiliary had with the preterite of the participle icritten ; I had written. A third compound tenfe is the future of complete a^lion, or the perfe61: future Scrip fero, I fliall have written, * Efomai gegraphos y which, as appears by the EngliOi and Greek way of expreOirig it, forms an union of the preterperfe6l, that is, of the complete paft ending in. the prefent, with \X\z future. Of this tenfe it is remark- able, that in the Englifli (as in the Greek) way of exprefTing it, / Jhall have written, or, I JJjall have done writing, there is no auxiliary of the fubjunftive mood : a ciicumftance, that fuf- ficiently fliows the abfurdity of calling it the future of the fuhjunSlive. A fourth is the definite future, Scripturiis fmn, I am going to v/rite, or, I am about to write: in which the prefent is united with the future, Sum with Script urus, to intimate a futurity that is juft commencing, Weexprefs it in Englilh by a fort of figure: I am going to write j that is, I am engaged in an adion which is preparatory to, or will be immediately follov/ed by, the a£t of writing. The other Englifh phrafe is, I am about to write ; that is, I am at the point, the nearer end, or the beginning of the action of writing: for bout in French denotes /io/«/ or end;.^.r\A au bout, at the point, or at the end ; fo that it is probable we have derived this idiom from the French language. A fifth compound tenfe is in Latin Scripturus eram ; in Greek 'Y Emellon graphein; in Englifli, I ivas about to v/rite. We ufe 4o8 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. it, to exprefs an a6lion, which at a certain time now paft would have taken place immediately, if fomething had not happened to prevent or defer it, or at lead to claim a prior attention. So in the tenth chapter of the Apocalypfe ; " And when the feven thunders •' had uttered their voices, I was about to write, Emellon graphein : " and I heard a voice from heaven, faying unto me, Seal up thofe " things which the feven thunders uttered, and write them not." It is therefore a compofition of the paft eram, with the definite or paulo-poft/z^fz<;r6', Scripturus. But there is not in any language, fo far as I know, a contrivance for comprehending all this in one word; and therefore, like fome other tenfes, it muft be fignified by- auxiliary words joined to the participle of future time. IJJ:all be 'writing, * Efomai graphon, is the laft compound tenfe that I Ihall mention. It occurs in fentences like the following, ♦' I cannot come tomorrow before dinner, for I pall he writing all ** the morning ;" and is therefore a coalition of the future with the imperfcB. It differs however from the incomplete future for- merly defcribed, and exemplified by Scribam, I fliall write. This kaft denotes incomplete aftion, and indefinite (or aoriftical) futu- rity : but I Pall be writing denotes both thefe, together with f-x- tended ox continued adlion. — So much for compomid tcnks ; which unite two or more times in one. — If the reader will not allow thefe two laft forms of exprefTion to be Tenfes, I fliall not infift on it, that they are. I call them fo, becaufe they have been fo called by others. 2. The fimple tenfes, expreflive of one time only, are thefe that follow. — I. The definite prefent, Sc?-ibo, I write. — 2. The aorift of the prefent, " A merry heart maketh a chearful countenance." — 3. The aorift of the paft, -j- Egrapfa, I wrote, or 1 did write, — 8 4. The Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 409 4. The aoiill oF the futLuc, Scrikun, I jLall wriic. — 5. The im- perfe6t, or the continued and incomplete j)afl:, Scribcbam, I iiun writing. — Thefc tenfcs have all been fufliciently dcfci ibcd under other chara6lers. And now, of the Eleven tknsrs here explauied, which, behig a ftrange as well as an odd number, we may, by omitting the two lad, and retaining the Paulo- poft-future (becaufe there is a tenfc of that name in the Greek Grammar) reduce to Nine, the number of the Mufcs ; — of thefc eleven tenfes, I fay, the arrangement and general nature may be feen at one glance, in the following Table. TENSES OF ACTIVE VERBS, Definite in time. The Prefent. Scribo. I write. Number i. The PreterperfeB. I have written. Numb. 2. The Paulo- pojl-future. Scripturus fum. Numb. 3. Indefinite in time, or Aorist,' The Prefent, A merry heart maketh, &c. Numb. 4. The Pajl. Egrapfa. I wrote, or I did write. Numb. 5, The Future. Scribam. I (hall write. Numb. 6. Complete in respect of action,' The PreterperfeB. I have written. Numb. 2. The Aoriji of the pafi. I wrote. Numb. 5. The Plufquamperfc£t. I had written. Numb. 7. The Future perfeSl. Scripfero. I fliall have written. Numb. 8, Incomplete in respect of action. The LnperfeB and continued pafi. I was writing. Numb. 9. The Aoriji of the future. Scribam. I fliall write. Numb. 6, The Paulo-pofi-futwe. Scripturus fum. Numb. 3. 3 G Com- O 4IO THE THEORY Part II. Compound, as uniting two or more times in one tense=. The PrcterperfeSi. Paft with prefent. Number 2. The FhifquamperfsB. Paft with pafl. Numb. 7. The Future perfetl. Prefent and pafl: with future. Numb. 8, "Y\\zTaiilo-poJi- future. Prefent with future. Numb. 3 > TYiQ Pafl ivith future. Scripturus eram. Numb. 10. Thz ImpcrfeB 'with future. I fliall be writing. Numb. 11. Simple, expressive of one time^ T\iQ Definite prefent. Numb. i. The Aoriji of the prefent. Numb. 4. T\\Q Aoriji of the paft. Numb, 5. The Aoriji of the future. Numb. 6. The LnperfeB and extended pajl. Numb. 9. The Tenfes, reduced to Nine, are, i. The Indefinite Prefent, 2. The Definite Prefent. 3. The Imperfect. 4. Tlie Indefinite Preterit, or Aoriji of the Paft. 5. The PreterperfeSl. 6. The PlufquamperfeB. 7. The Indefinite or Ac?-ifi Future. 8. The Paulo-foft-futiire. 9. The PerfeB Future. If will perhaps occur, that there are two Greek tenfes, whereof in this long detail I have given no account} namely, th.t fecond aorift, and x\\c fecond future. The truth is, that I conlider them as unneceffary. Their place, for any thing I know to the contrary, might at all times be fupplied by the firft aorift and the firft future. Some grammarians ar" of opinion, that the firft aorift fignifies time paft in general, and the fecond, indefinite time paftj and that the firft future denotes a nearer, and the fecond a more remote futurity. But this, I apprehend, is mere conjedure, unfupported by proof. And therefore I incline rather to the fentiments of thofe who teach, that the fecond future and fecond aorift have no meaning different from the firft future and firft aorift ; and that 8 they Chap. II. O F I. A N G U A G E. 411 they are the piefcnt and impeife6l of fomc obfolctc theme of the verb, and, when the other theme came into ufe, happened to be retained, for the fake of variety perhaps, or by mere accident, with a preterite and future fignification. Be this as it will ; as thefe tenfes arc pecuUar to the Greek, and have nothing corref- ponding to them in other tongues, we need not fcruple to overlook them as fuperfluous. Different nations may make ufc of different contrivances for marking the times of their verbs. The Greeks and Latins diftin- guifli their tenfes, as well as their moods, and the cafes of tlieir nouns, adjectives, and participles, by varying the termination, or otherwife changing the form, of the word ; retaining, however, thofe radical letters, which prove the inflection to be of the fame kindred with its theme. The modern tongues, particularly the Englilh, abound in auxiliary words, which vary the meaning of the noun or attributive, without requiring any confiderable varie- ties of inflexion. Thus, / did read, I pall read, I jhould read, have the fame import with legi, legatn, kgerem. It is obvious, that a language, like the Greek and Latin, which can thus com- prehend in one word the meaning of two or three, muft have fome advantages over thofe which cannot. Perhaps indeed it may not be more perfpicuous : but, in the arrangement of words, and con- fequently in harmony and energy, as well as ir concifenefs, it mav be much more elegant. Every fentiment that Greek or Latin can exprefs may in one way or other be exprefTed in Englifli. But if we were to attempt the fame varieties of arrangement, we fhould fee a wonderful fuperiority in the former. Virgil could fay, Formofam refonare doces Amaryllida fdv^as : But we cannot fay, " Fai. to refound thou teachefl: Amaryllis the *' woods." Had the poet's verfe permitted, the fyntax of his lan- 3 G 2 guage ^12. THE THEORY Partll: o-uage would not have hindered him fiom changing the order of thefe five words in many different v/ays, with equal figtiifi- cancy. But wlien we attempt more than two or thiee modes oi* arrangement, we are apt to fall into ambiguity or nonfenfe. Nay in many cafes we are limited to one particular arrangement. A Roman might have faid, Aclnlles interfecit HeSlorem, or HeSlorern interfecit Achillas, or Achilles HeBorem interfecit, or Hecforem Achilles interfecit, or Interfecit HeSforem Achilles^ or Interfecit Achilles HcBorem : but we muft fay, Achilles flew HeBor ; for, if we vary the fentence ever fo little, we produce ambiguity, non- fenfe, or falfehood ; ambiguity, as Achilles HeBor flew -, nonfenfe, as Slew HeBor Achilles ; falfehood, as HeBorflew Achilles. It has been obferved of the Englifli, that they are much inclined to fliorten their words into monofyllables j which a certain author wittily afligns as a proof, that taciturnity is natural to the people. It may alfo be remarked, that we are not friendly to infte6lion:. for, few as the terminations of our verbs are, we feem inclinable to reduce their number. Thus fome authors confound wrote with written, or rather abolifli written, and ufe wrote inftead of it ; and fay, not only, " he wrote a book," which is right-; but alfd^ " the book is well xvrote," infbead of " well written" To miilake the aorift of the paft for the preterite participle, would have a flrange effefl in Latin or Greek ; and is not lefs ungrammatical in Englilh. — In like manner, fome of our writers feem to forget, that Englifli verbs have in the indicative mood a fecond perfon fmgular ; .for they, fay, thou writes, inflead of//^« writeft : which is as im- proper in our language, as tu fcriffn would be in Latin. And, both in fpeech and in writing, it has been too cuftomary, of late . years, to difcontinue the ufe of that conjun6tive or fubjun6tive mood, which was formerly, by our bell writers, introduced after fuch Ghap. IL OF LANGUAGE. 413 fach words as ij\ though, before, whether, unlcfs, &c : as, " If he •' ivrite, I will anfwer him," — " Though \\zjlay mc, I will truft in. *• him," — " I exped to fee him hefore he go away," 6cc. inftcad ofwliich phiafes, many people would now fay, lefs properly, " if " he writes — though he Jlays — before he goes" &c. * This. however is the more cxcufable, becaufc the indicative may fome- times be elegantly ufed in fuch a connevftion : as, " If there is a *• Power above us, he muft delight in virtue." For the firft claufe, though introduced by if,, is not meant to exprefs what is in any degree doubtful, indefinite, or dependent : and therefore, it has not that chara6ler, which diftinguiflies the fubjunclive from the indicative. — As our language has too little inflexion, it is pity it fliould lofe any of tlie little it has. Paft time being prior to prefent, and prefent to future, one would think, that grammarians, in arranging the tenfes, fhould have given the firft place to the preterites. Yet in the Greek and Latin, and all modern grammars, the order is different, and the prefent has the precedency : which by Scaliger is thus whimlically accounted for. What ftands conne6led with prefent time is per- ceived by fenfe alone, and may therefore be known in fome degree to all animals; but memory, as well as fenfe, is requifite to give information of what is paft ; and, in order to anticipate the future, fenfe, memoiy, and reafon are all necelfary. — The true reafon I take to be this. The Pref:nt is put firft, becaufe in Greek and Latin it is confidered as the theme or root of the verb ; every other tcnfe being derived from it, and it derived from no other tenfe : and the Preterits take place of the Future, in Latin, on account of the natural j:recedency of paft to future time; and, in Greek, the * This, and the preceding, and fome other grammatlca! and vcibal unproprieties, are frequent in Sterne. 7 Future. 414 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. Future takes place of the Preterits, becaufe from the Future the Preterits are derived. Having finifhed the fubjett of Tenfes, I proceed to explain the nature of Moods, and to inquire, in what refpe6ls they are elTential to language. SECT. IV. The fuhjeSi contimied. — Of the Modes, or Moods of verbs. — • Gerwvds and Supines. — Species of verbs. T N fpeaking, we not only convey our thoughts to others j but alfo give intimation of thofe peculiar afFe6lions, or mental ener- gies, by which we are determined to think and fpeak. Hence the origin of Modes or Moods in verbs. They are fuppofed to make known our ideas, with fomething alfo of the intention, or temper of mind, with which we conceive and utter them. In moft languages, the ufe of moods is a matter of fome dif- ficulty ; and the fource of much elegance, in marking with a figni- ficant brevity certain minute varieties of meaning, which without this expedient would produce awkward circumlocutions. This will appear from fome of the following examples. And the advantages here hinted at are more confpicuous in Greek and Latin, than in Englifli. For in thofe languages the moods are marked by par- ticular inflexions of the verbj and the rules for their ufe are afcertained more exadlly than in our tongue, and better adapted to the varieties of human thought. As Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 415 As the theory of moods is not altogether the fame in any two languages, one cannot enter into it with any great degree of mi- nutenefs, in an inquiry into the principles of Univerfal Grammar. All therefore I have to do in this place, is to give fome account of tlieir general nature, and fliow in what refpeds they may be effcn- tial to language. If I affirm concerning that which I conceive abfolutely to be prefent, or paft, or future, I ufe what is called the Indicative or Declarative moodi : zs I go, I 'was going y I had gone, I went, I pall go. In all hiftory and fcience tliis mood piedominates j and in. .every language it is necefl'ary. It is the bufmefs of the hiftorian to fay, not what Cefar might have done, or what he might have been, but what he 'is^as, and what he did: the truths of geometry are invariable, and therefore abfolute : and the philofopher confiders the w^orks of nature as they are, have been, and isoill be, and not as they might have been under the influence of different laws. If, together with the fimple affirmation of the verb, I alfoexprefs. fome modification or affedion of it, fuch as power, poflibility, li- berty, v/ill, duty, &c. the mood is called Potential : as 1 77iay writer I might have been confulted, I could live on vegetables, I loould /peak if I durjl. He Jhoidd have a&ed otherivife. If I fignify, by means of a verb, fomething which is affirmed,, not abfolutely by itfelf, but relatively to fome other verb on whicii it is dependent, I ufe the SubjunSlive mood : as, I eat, that I may live; if he go, I will follow j whether he be alive, I know not.. This has alfo been called the ConjunBive mood ; perhaps becaufe the verb fo moditied is often ufiiered in by a conjundlion, that, if, whether, &c. The Optative mood is fiid to exprefs a widi or defire ; and in Greek is marked by a particular form or inflection of the verb. Yet, even in Greek, a wifli may be expreflid by other moods befides the- optative i. ^ife THE THEORY Part 11. optative; and, without the aid of one or more auxiliary words, cannot be expreffed even by the optative itfelf. Whence it may be inferred, that this mood is luperfluous, even in Greek j and, as it is found in no other tongue, that it cannot be effential to language. In fact, the Greek optative often conveys the meaning of a Sub- )un6live, or Potential. By the Attick vi^riters it is fometimes ufed to exprefs thofe contingencies that depend on the human will. * — In Latin, there is no need of an Optative ; wilhes being fignified by ^he Subjunctive modified by certain auxiliaries exprefled or under- flood : as Utinam ftiperes (that IS, Qpto ut, uti, oi utinam faperes) " I wilh that you were wife :" O fi 'Jupiter referat prceteritos annor (that is, O quantum gauderem, or O quantum proficeret, fi Jupiter^ &c.) " O that Jupiter, (or I wifli that Jupiter) would reftore the " years that are paft :" Sis bonus felixque tuis ; where utinam is underftood, or Preco?- ut Jis bonus, &c. Similar contrivances take place in other tongues. As to the Potential mood, it may, I think, in all cafes, be re- ■folved into either the Indicative or the Subjun6tive : and therefore, .and becaufe in Latin and Greek it is not marked by any peculiar inflexion of the verb, I do not confider it as eflential to language, or as worthy of being diftinguiflied in Grammar by a particular name, " I may go," is the fame with " It is in my power to go ;" which is a pofitive and abfolute affirmation, requiring^ a verb of the indicative mood. " He JI:ould have gone," appears to be equally abfolute, when refolved thus, " It ivas his duty to go." And in like manner, " He would have gone," is nothing more than, '* He "was willing to go." And " I might have been confulted," is not materially different from, " It was in the power of others to have " confulted me." In thefe examples, the Potential coincides with the Indicative. — And in the following paffage from Horace, * Origin and Progrefs of Language, Sed Oi.Tirn. OF LANGUAGE. 417 Sed tacitLis pafci fi iiofilt corvus, hal^'ret Plus dapis the laft claufc, which is commonly referred to the Potential, may be refolved into the indicative and fubjunflive thus : Si corvus pojfet pafci tacitiis, it a res efi, ox fieri potefi, ut haberet plus dapis ; which is a fcntence confifting of one abfolute affirmation, or indicative verb, and of two fubordinate or relative claufes, in both which the mood is fubjun(?i:ive. The Imperative Mood feems to be only an elliptical way of ex- prefling that, which implies abfolute affirmation, and which there- fore might be with equal clearnefs, though not with equal brevity, exprefled by the Indicative. " Go thou," is the fame in meaning with, " I command, or I intreat thee to go:" " Spare us, good *' Lord," maybe refolved into, " TFe befeech thtc, good Lord, to " fpare us." The Infinitive may be called, if you pleafe, the infijiitive, indefijiite^ or imperfi}nal form of the -verb : but a mood it certainly is not j be- caufe it implies no mental energy, or intention. Nay, iftheefTen- tial charatVer of the verb be, what it has been proved to be, to exprefs Affirmation, it will follow, that the infinitive is not even a part of the verb. For it exprefl^es no affirmation ; it has no re- ference to perfons or fubflances ; it forms no compleat fentencc by itfelf, nor even when joined to a noun, unlefs it be aided by fome real part of a verb either expreffed or undcrftood. Lego, le^e- bam, Icgi, legeram, legam, I read, I was reading, I have read, I had read, I fliall read, do, eacli of them, amount to a compleat affirmative fentence : but legere, to read, legife, to have read, leSlu- rum efj'e, to be about to lead, affirm nothing, and are not more applicable to any one perfon, than to any other. But, though the Infinitive is no part of the verb, even as the ground whereon the houfe flands is no part of the building, it may be 3 H confidered 4i8 THETHEORY Part IL confidered as the foundation of the whole verb ; becaufe it exprefTes the fimple attribute, on which, by means of inflexions and auxiUary words, the authors of language have reared that vaft fabrick of moods and tenfes, whereby are fignified fo many varieties of affirma- tion, and a6lion, of time, perfon, and number. And this attribute it exprefTes abftra6lly, as fomething capable of being charac- terifed by qualities, or made the fubjeft of a propofition ; which comes fo near the defcription of a noun, that in mofl languages it may be ufed, and frequently is ufed, as a noun : whence fome antient grammarians called it, the "verbal noun, or, more properly, the noun of the verb *. Thus Scire tuum nihil ejl -f is the fame with Scientia tua nihil ejl ; and Reddes duke loqiii, reddes ridere decorum^ is equally elegant and expreflive with, Reddes dulcem loque- lam, reddes decorum rifum +. Thus, in Englifli, we may fay, " Death is certain," or " "To die is certain;" " He loves learn- '« ingi^ or " He loves to learn." — In fome languages, particularly the Italian and Greek, the article is prefixed to thefe infinitive nouns; which, ifpoflible, makes their fabflantive nature ftill more apparent ; as Il'tnangiare, the eating ; /' effer.c, the being i |( To philo- fophein boidomai eper to pkutein, I choofe to philofophize rather than to be rich ; which is the fame Vv'ith, I choofe philofophy rather than riches. But to fuch infinitives we do not prefix the article in Englifh, becaufe cuftom has fo determined ; nor in Latin, becaufe that lan- o-uage has no article §. In the Claflick tongues, they fupply the * Non inepte hie modus (Infinitivus) a veteribus quibufdam Verbi Nomen eft appella- tum. Eft enim (fi non vere ac femper, quod nonnulli volunt, Nomen Subftantivum) fignificatione certe el maxime affiais ; ejufque vices fuftinet per omnes cafus. Rud- diman. Gram, major, par. ii. pag. 217. f Perfius. X Horace. II To ^iXoiroipTiv (iH\oiJt.xi TjTrfj to ttXvthv. § Pronominal articles are fometimes joined to thefe infinitives in Latin: as, Cum vkere ipjim turpe fu nobis. Totum /w difplicet /'/'//fl/ii;*/'!;//. Cicero. Chap. II, OF LANGUAGE. 419 place of all the cafes : in Englifli, they may go before a verb, as no- minatives, as " To /earn IS dciirahle ;" or after it, as accufatives, as *' I defire to learn" but they never follow a prepofition, fo far as I recolleft, except in one pafTage of Spenfer, which, being contrary to idiom, or at leaft obfolete, is not to be imitated : For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake Could fave the fon of Thetisy;- the Indicative and Subjunctive. Every fcholar knows, that a con^ fulerable part of the elegance of the Latin verb arifcs fiom the right application of them; and that, if in Cicero, Cefar, and Virgil (for example) the tenfes of the latter were to be changed into the cor- refpouding tenfe-s of the former, the language would appear even uncouth in the found, as well as inaccurate with refpecl to the fenfe. But it may be queftioned, whether this is not in part the cffeil of habit. V\'e have always been accuftomed to Subjunctive tenfes in Latin j and can hardly conceive that it would be intelligible without them. And that without them it would not be elegant, is allowed. But, fetting elegance afide, and independently on the habits acquired in reading the cla/licks, might we not, in one way or other, exprefs every necefTary affirmation, by means of the Indicative only ? Certain it is that, in many cafes, if the laws of fyntax would permit, the {qvSq would not hinder us from ufmg that mood inftead of the other. In vulgar Engliih, as already ob- ferved, this is done every moment, without airy other inconvenience, than that of offending the critick, and gradually corrupting the purity of our tongue. Nay, there is reafon to think, that many people now fpeak and write Engliih, without ever ufmg a Subjunc- tive, , 422 THE THEORY Part II. tive, (except verfal Grammar to confider them particularly. Yet a remark or two on the fubje6l may not be improper. The Gerund is a noun derived from the verb -, but is no part of the verb, becaufe in itfelf it does not poffefs the power of affir- mation. It has two diftindl offices. When in the nominative cafe it is joined to eji with a dative, or in the accufative to ej'e with a dative, it denotes necejjity or duty : as jnoriendum ejl jnihi, I 7nujl -die J &cio morienduni eJJ'e mi hi, I know that I mujl die : Vivendum ejl mibi re£te, I ought to live honeftly ; Fateor viijendum ejfe mihi reSie, I confefs that I ought to live honeftly. In this ufe, it is properly called a gerund -, for that word implies, that fometliing mufl be, or is to be, done. And there is in Gi-eek a fort of participial adverb, fometimes called the adverb of pofition, which exprefles the mean- ing of this gerund, as * Iteon moi, Eundum ejl miki, I mu/1 go : oijleon Chap. II. OF LANGUAGE. 423 * oijleon kai elpijleon, ferendum et fperandum eft, wc ought to en- dure and to hope. In Englilli, and other modern languages, there is nothing correlpondent to this gerund ; its place being fupplied by an auxihary verb, of duty, ought, or of neceflity, muft. In another view, the Latin gerund is a verbal fubftantive, ap- proaching in fignification to that of the infinitive noun ; but hav- ing this advantage over the Latin infinitive, that it admits of ter- minations to mark its cafes, and coincides more eafily in fyntax with nouns and adjectives. Examples may be (ezn in the Latin grammar. In Greek this fort of Gerund is the lefs neceflary, be- caufe the infinitive itfelf may be refolved into cafes, by means of the neuter article : as, -f- ek tou oran gignetai to eran, of feeing comes loving ; X ^° ploutein ejiin en t6 chrejihai. Being rich confifts in ufing. We have in Englifii a verbal noun, of the fame form with our aftivc participle, v/hich noun coincides in meaning with this Latin gerund : as, he is incapable of writing, he is addifted to ivritino-, he praSiifes writing, he is fatigued %i:itb writing. From the infinitive of the Hebrew, by means of certain prefixed letters, (which are indeed contracted prepofitions) are formed four words called Gerunds ; which are very ierviccable in that lantruao-e. andfometimes fupply the place of what in other tongues we term the plufquamperfect tenfe, and Subjun6live mood. Thus from viafor, tradere, are formed bemfor, in iradendo ; chimfor, aim tradi- diffcm, &c. ; limfor, ad tradcjiduni; mimfor, a tradendo. This fome- what refembles the ufe, which, in Greek, by the help of piepo- fitions and the neuter article, may be made of the infinitive taken as a noun. The origin of the word Supine, as a term in grammar, has given rife to feveral conjeftures. Sanftius, who never hefitates, is of J TO Tr\HT£iv iftv iv TW ^inird'X!, opinion. ^24 -T HE T H E O RT Part n. opinion, that the word fo called is an emblem of a fupine or indo- lent man : for that, as the buiinefs of fuch a man muft be done by others, fo the office of the fupi?ie may be executed by various other phrafes ; difcedo leBum, for example, by difcedo leBurus, by difcedo ad legendum, and by difcedo ut legam. Prifcian thinks, not lefs whimfically, that the Supine, being placed in grammars at the bottom of the verb, feems to fupport the whole weight of the con- jugation J like- a man lying fupine, or with his face upwards, and preffed down to the earth by a huge pile of burdens. — But how- ever, myfterious their name maybe, the nature of the two Latin fupines is very well underftood. Like the gerunds, they are no parts of the verb, but verbal nouns -, the firft ending in «w, which is always of the accufative cafe, governed by ad underftood, and preceded by a verb of motion j and the fecond in Uy which is always of the ablative, governed by in underftood, and preceded by an adjetlive : as abiit (ad) deambulatum ; facile (in) diBu. So they are explained by the moft accurate of all Latin Grammarians, Ruddimaiio I ftiall now give fome account of the feveral fpecies or forts of ■ verbs, and fo conclude this part of the fubjeil. In all the languages I know, and probably in all others. Verbs are of different forts. Exclufive of the verb of exiftence, which is of a peculiar character, and has been already defcribed, they may all be divided into A6live, Paffive, and Neuter. I . As human aff"airs depend upon A6lion, and as human fpeech is employed on human affairs, it muft happen, in all poflible con- ditions wherein we can be placed, that affirmations will often be made in regard to a6lions. Verbs, therefore, which affirm con- cerning a6tion, and which are called ABiroe, .there muft be in all ianguages j as I love, thou blameft, hefirikes, they purfuc. 7 2. Every Chap. 11. O F L A N G U A G E. 42; 2. Every created being that aBs is \\Ah\5OT,v; adificatur, I mean that it is juft now a building, but not " finilhed. 2. When Milficabaiur^ that it was then, or at a certain part time, a build- 440 THE THEORY Part II. If the Participle effeiitially implies time, it would not be eafy to -give a reafon, why neuter verbs fhould not, as well as aiSlive, have participles both of prefent time, and of pad. According to the common theory, dormiens, fleeping, is the prefent participle of a neuter verb : but where is the preterit participle ? Of active verbs we have participles of either fort ; amans, loving, amatus, loved ; (indicns, hearing, audiuis, heard, &c. But of dormio, I fleep, fedeo, 1 fit, fioreo, I fiourifli, though there are participles of prefent time (as they are called) dor miens, fleeping, fedens, fitting, forens, flou- i'ifliing, there are none of pad time. And yet, thefe attributes may be fpoken of as paft, as well as prefent. He flept, he fat, he flouriflied, may be faid, as well as, he fleeps, he fits, he flouriflies. How is this difficulty to be folved ? By lejefting the common theory, and adopting what is here offered. Call the one participle A£rive, and the otlier Paffive : and then, what is more eafy, than -to fay, that to Neuter verbs, which can never be Paffive, no paffive participle can ever belong ? Excepting, therefore, tlie Greek participles, v/hich are more nu- merous, and perhaps lefs underftood, than thofe of other tongues j " ing, but not then finilhed. 3. Mdifcabitur, that fome time hence it (hall be a build- " ing, without any formal regard to the finifhing of it. — But when I make ufe of the " Participle perfetl , I always fignify a thing compleated and ended: but with thefe " fubdiflindions. j. By ^J^difcata eji, I mean fimply, that it is finiflied ; without '" any regard to the time when. 2. /Edificata fuit^ it is finiflied ; and feme time fince ■" has intervened. 3, /Edificnta erat, it was finifhed at a certain paft time referred to, " with which it was contemporary. 4. ^dificata fuerat ; it was tinilhed before a cer- •' tain paft time referred to, to which it was prior. 5. /Edificata erit^ it fiiall be finitlied " fome time hereafter, eithei" without regard to a particular time when; or with refpeiS ■*' to a certain time yet fiUiire, with which its finifliing fliall be contemporary. 6. /T.di- " fcatafucrit, it fhall be finifhed and paft before another thing yet future, to which its '" finifhing fhall be prior." — The Author then goes on to fliow, which he does in .a very ingenious Tsnd fatisfaftory manner, how it comes to pafs, that thefe tenfes are fo often ufed promifcuouily by Latin writers. Sec Rudimenti of the Latin Tongue, page 45. 4 .in ay Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 441 may we not, from what has been fald, infer, that Participles, as expre/Jwg the attribute of the verb without affirmation, ought to be diftinguillied, not into thofe of paft, prefent, and future time, but into, 1. Active and imperfect, which fignify a6\ion, or con- dition, begun, continuing, and unfiniflicd, as fcribens, writing, dormiens, fleeping : 2. PaJ/ivc and PerfeB, which denote action complete, zsfcriptus, written : and, 3. Future, exprellive of a6tion, or condition, which is to commence, but has not yet commenced, as fcripturus, about to write, dormiturus, about to flecp, and (if you pleafe) fcribendus, about to be written. If now it be alkcd, in what refpecls the adje6live differs from the participle : I anfwer, firft, that the former, though it may be derived from a verb, (as tacitus, filent, from taceo) is not, like the participle, neceffarily derived from it : and, fecondly, that thofe varieties of exprelTion and form, which relate to the continuance, completion, zwd futurity, of aSlion and cofidition, and which belong effentially to the participle, are not charaderiftical of the adje6live. Other diftin6lions might be fpecified, but thefe are fufficient. — The Adjeftive denotes a quality fimply : the Participle denotes a quality, together with feveral other confiderations relating to the continuance, completion, and futurity, of adion and condition. Thefe remarks were referved to this place : becaufe, without the knowledge of fome things in the two laft feftions, they could not be underftood. If, on account of the unavoidable repetition of cei tain technical terms, the reader fhould find them in any deo-ree obfcure, he needs not be difcou raged ; as none of either the fore- going, or the fubfequent, reafonings depend upon them. T 442 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. SECT. VI. The fubjeB of Attributives continued. — Of Adverbs. 'T~'HE Greek word * Epirrhana, which anfwers to adverb, pro- perly fignifies fomething additional to an attributive : for, as was ah'eady obferved, all forts of attributives, the adjeftive and participle as well as the verb, were called -j- rhemata, or verbs, by the antient grammarians. In this etymology of the name, we partly difcern the nature of an Adverb. It is a word joined to attributives j and commonly denotes forae circumftance, manner, or quality, connecled with their fignification. Adverbs are joined — to verbs, as fortiter pugnavit, he fought bravely ; — to participles, as graviter Jauciatus, grievoufy wounded j — to adje6lives, as egregie f delis, remarkably faithful. They are joined even to nouns : but, when this happens, the noun will be found to imply the meaning of an attributive ; as when Livy fays, admodum puella, very much a girl, the fenfe plainly is, a girl very young. Adverbs are alfo joined to adverbs : for the circumftances, manners, or quaUties, denoted by this part of fpeech, may them- JeTves be ' chara6lerifed by other circumftances, manners, or qua- lities ; as fnulto minus audaSier, much lefs boldly ; fat cito £\fat bene, foon enough if well enough. Some grammarians confider the adverb as a fecondary attribu- tive ; or, as a word denoting the attribute of an attribute. Theo- dore Gaza fays, that it is, as it were, the verb's epithet or adjec- tive : and Prifcian obferves, that, when added to verbs, it has the fame effeft which an adjettive has when joined to a noun. And that Chap. ir. O F L A N G U A G E. 443 that this is a true characler of many adverbs, cannot be denied : for which reafon I have referred this part of fpecch to the chapter of Attributives. A verb, adjective, or participle cannot be where a fubflantive is not, either expreffed or underflood : and an adverb is equally dependent upon its 'verb. When I fay, Ccfar fought valiantly ; the attribute fought is characlerifed by tlie adverb va- liantly, as Cefar the perlbn is by the verb fought. Agreeably to this notion of Adverbs, it would be cafy to fpecify a great number of them, which limit, enlarge, or otherwife modify, the nieaninir of the verbs, participles, adjc6livcs, and adverbs, to which they are joined : as, he walked much, he walked little, he walked y7ow/)/, quickly, gracefully, awkwardly, &c. ; — he was wounded fightly, grievoufy^ mortally, incurably, dangeroufy ; — more brave, lefs brave, prudently brave, ojlcntatioujly brave, 6cc. ; — bravely, fnore bravely, mojl bravely, very bravely, 7nuch lefs bravely, &c. Many adverbs there are, however, which do not fo properly mark the attributes of attributes, as fomc remoter circumftance attending an attribute or our way of conceiving it, and fpeakino- of it. Such are the fimple affirmative and negative j'^j- and no. Is he learned >. No. Is he brave t Yes. Here the two adverbs fignify, not any modification of the attributes brave ?a\di karjied ; but a total negation of the attribute, in the one cafe ; and, in the other, a declaration that the attribute belongs to the perfbn fpoken of. — Such alfo are thofe adverbs, of which in every language there is a great number, that denote time, place, certainty, contingency, and the like : as, he is here, he will go tomorrow, he will certainly come, he \n\\\ probably fpeak. For, when I fay, " He goes y&'u'/v," I exprefs by the adverb a certain modification of goin^j-j but when I fay, " he will go the day after this day," or, " he will go '* tomorroii)," I fay nothing as to the mode of going, nor do I 3 L - ^har^acAi^e 444 THE THEORY Part 11, charadterize the attribute going at all ; I only fay, that, at fuch a time, goitig will be the attribute, or the a61ion, of fuch a perfon. Adverbs are indeed applied to many purpofes ; and their general nature may be better underftood by reading a lift of them, than by any defcription or definition. Moft of them feem to have been introduced into language, in order to exprefs by one word the meaning of two or three : in what place, for examj'le, by where ? — to what place, by whither ? — in a direSlion afc ending, by upward; — at the prefent time, by now ; — at what time, by when ? — at that time, by then ; — many times, by often ; — not 7nany times, hy feldom ; — // is done as it JJoould be, by well done ; — // is do7ie with wijdom, by wifely done; — it is certain that he will come, by he will cer- tainly come, &c. Even yes may be exprefled by circumlocution, without an adverb ; as, Are you well ? Tes ; that is, / am well. And, where the predicate of a negative propofition may be fupplied by a word of contrary meaning, No or N'ot may be difpenfed with, and the propofition becomes pofitive : Are you fick ? No : that is, I am well ; — He is not prefent, that is, he is abfent. In Hebrew, though there are feveral adverbs of negation, there is no affirmative adverb anfwering to yes. Tea occurs only once in the Englifli Old Teftament, namely in the third chapter of Genefis, where it has a different meaning. The defetfl is always fupplied by a periphrafis, in the way here hinted at : as, Is he v/ell ? He is well. The Latin feems originally to have been defi- cient in the fame refpeft . Ita, etimn, and maxime, are, when ufed in this fcnfe, elliptical circumlocutions. Hence it appears, that adverbs, though of great ufe, becaufe they promote brevity, and confequently energy, of expreffion, are not among the moil eflential parts of language; becaufe their place mieht be fupplied in almofl all cafes, by other parts of fpeech. However they are found in great abundance, in moft languages : whence Chap. 11. O F L A N G U A G E. 445 ■whence we may nifer, that it is natural for men to have rccourfe to them on certain occafions. Adverbs expreflivc of quality are in Greek, Latin, Englidi, Sec. almoft innumerable. In Hebrew, they are not very many ; but the want is eafily fupplied. The mafculine of the adjective is often iifed adverbially ; tol> is hniis and alfo l>c?ie -, Rang is both jnalus and mak: — which is fometimes done in Englifh ; as when rigbt, wrong, ill, well, &c. are ufed adverbially, as well as for adjedives. But this want the Hebrews more commonly fupply by a prepofition and a noun: fov truly, they {ay In truth -, for righteoujly, in ri'r/j- teoufnefs. Even in adje6lives they do not greatly abound. They fay, Godofjujlicc, inftead o{ juji God ; and. throne of glory xn^ezd oi glorious throne. We often do the fame : we may fay indifferently, either a wife man, a wealthy man, a courageous man, Sec. or a man of wifdom, of wealth, of courage, &c. I faid, that Adverbs promote energy of expreffion. But this hap- pens only when they promote brevity too, and are fparingly ufed, and chofen with judgement. A fuperabundance of them, or of ad- je6lives, makes a ftyle unwieldy and tawdry. For it is from its nouns, rather than from its attributives, that language derives flrength : even as a building derives {lability rather from the walls and rafters, than from the plaffering, wainfcotting, and painting. Young writers, however, are apt to think otherwife ; and, with a view to invigorate their expreffion, qualify every verb with an adverb, and every noun with an epithet. And fo, their compofitions re- femble a houfe, whofe walls are fupported by pofts and buttreffes ; which not only make it unfecmly to the eye, and inconvenient by taking up too much room, but alfo juftify a fufplcion, of weaknefs in the work, and unikilfulnefs in the archite6l. Such a period as the following will explain what I mean. " I am honeftly, ferioufly, and ♦• unalterably of opinion, that nothing can poflibly be more in- ^' curabljr 446 THETHEORY Part II. " curably and emphatically deftruclive, or more decifively fatal, to " a kingdom, than the introdu6lion of thoughtlefs difiipation, and " the pomp of lazy luxury." * Would not the full import of this noify fentence be better expreffed thus : " I am of opinion, that " nothing is more ruinous to a kingdom, than luxury and diflipa- *' tion ?" — Now obferve, that in the former there are eight adverbs and four adjeftives, and in the latter one adjective, and one adverb. If two garments are fufEcient for elegance and ufe, who would burden himielf with twenty ? But this by the by. Some authors affirm, that adverbs may be found in all the ten Categories ; and think, that the moft effe6lual way of arranging them, is to refer them to the feveral categories to which they belong. The Categories, or, as they are called in Latin, the Predicaments, are ten general heads of divifion, to which Ariflotle and his fol- lowers fuppofed, that every thing, or idea, conceivable by the hu- man underftanding, might be reduced. They are as follows. I. Subftance. 2. Quantity. 3. Quality. 4. Relation. 5. Aftion. 6.. Paffion. 7. Time. 8. Place. 9. Situation. 10. Habit; or, the being Habited -j-. This arrangement was long confidered as Perfecl ; but has fallen into difrepute, fmce the Peripatetick philo- fophy began to decline. It muft be owned, however, that, if we arrange the Adverbs according to it, we fliall have a pretty extenfive * The pomp of lazy luxury a phiafe of Lord Shaftefbury's. + " Cornelius was forced to give Martin fenfible images. Thus calling up the " coachman he afl-:ed him what he had feen at the bear-garden. The man anfwered, he *' faw two men light a prize ; one was a fair man, a fergeant of the guards ; the other " black, a butclicr : the fergeant had red breeches, the butcher blue : they fought upon " a ftage about four o'clock, and the fergeant wounded the butcher in tlie leg. Mark, " quoth Cornelius, how the fellow runs through the predicaments. Menj fubjlantia; *' two,, guantitJs ; h\r zndhhck, gmilittis; Sergeant of the guards and Butcher, ^f/i7// idea Chap. II. O F L A N G U A G E. 447 idea of their nature, and of the various pnrpofes to which they may be apphed. But this has never been done, fo far as I know, by anv grammarian ; and therefore I am apprehcnfive, that the following attempt may be found erroneous. 1. Under Su/?fta?ice, the firfl: category, may be comprehended fuch adverbs as Ejfentially, fuhJlantiaUy, fplritually, corporeally , an- gelically, Socratically, &c. 2. Under ^lajitity, the fecond, may be arranged thofe adverbs, that denote extenfion, or number. Of the former foit are, 7)!uch, greatly, exceedingly, enough, almoft, fcarccly, and the hke. Of the latter are once, tlvice, thrice, fecondly, thirdly, fourthly, &c, 3. i>uality, the third category, is, according to A riftotle, of four fpecies : comprehending, firft, Intelle6^ual habits, to which cor- refpond fuch adverbs as vtrttmijly, 'uitioujly, wifely, valiantly, foolijl.'ly, &c.; fecotidly. Natural powers of the mind or body, to which may he vdexxtA, powerfully, fcnf.l>ly, willingly , forcibly , feebly , &c,j thirdly. Qualities perceived by fenfe, expreffed adverbially hy foftly, warmly, coldly, loudly, fweetly, clearly, &c. ; fourthly. Figures of things with or without life, to v/hich clafs we may refer, elegantly (fhaped), circularly, triangularly, &c. 4. The adverbs that fignify Relation (the fourth predicament) are of various kinds. They exprefs, fiift, Refemblance, as, fo, thus; (econdly, Contrariety, as, otherwife, differently, contrariwife, &c. ; thirdly, Order, as, afterwards, next, frjl, fecondly, &c.;. fourthly, Coexiftence, or AlTemblage, as, together, jointly, &c. ;. fifthly, Separation, as, feparately, diverfely, ojily, chief y, efpecially, fingularly, &c. ; fixthly, Caufe and EfFe61:, as, therefore, corfe- quently. Sec. 5. yl^ion is the fifth category: and, as tliere are many forts of it, fo are there many clallts of adverbs to exprefs it. As, firft, Bodily adion, fivimmingly, fnatchingly, curfim, carptim, &c. : 8 fbcondlv. 448 THE THEORY PartjgE., fecondly, Mental a6lion, — as defire, utinam, Othat; — denying or forbidding, », * See. Parti, chap. 6. f Part i. chap. i. are 454- TH E THEORY Part II. are more efFeiSlually fabdued by a fedate and fimple utterance, than by interje6lions and theatrical gefture. At any rate, compofure is more graceful than extravagance ; and therefore, a multitude of thefe palTionate particles will generally, at leaft on common oc- cafions, favour more of levity than of dignity ; of want of thought, than of keen fenfation. In common difcourfe this holds, as well as in writing. They who wifli to fpeak often, and have little to fay, abound in interje6tions, wonderful^ amazitig, prodigious, fyefye, dear. Dear me, hum, hah, indeed, Good life, Good Lord, and the like : and hence, the too frequent ufe of fuch words tends to breed a fiif- picion, that one labours under a fcantinefs of ideas. — In poetry, certain fuperfluities of language are more allowable than in profe ; yet fome elegant Englifh poets are at pains to avoid interjections. Tragick writers are often intemperate in the ufe of them. We meet with entire lines of interjedlions in the Greek plays. But it is yet more provoking to fee an EnghQi tragedian endeavour to work upon the human heart by fuch profane expletives, as Flames and furies ! Damnation ! Heaven and earth ! not to mention others of ftill greater folemnity. If the poet has no other way to make up his verfe, or to fliow that his hero is in earneft, I would recom- mend to him the more harmlefs phrafeology of Fielding's I'om Thumb, Confufion ! horror ! murder ! guts ! and death ! Interje6lions denoting imprecation, and thofe in which the Divine Name is irreverently mentioned, are always offenfive to a pious mind: and the writer or fpeaker, who contrafls a habit of introduc- ing them, may without breach of charity be fufpecled of profanenefs. To fay, with a devout mind, God blefs me, can never be im- proper : but to make thofe folemn words a familiar interjection expieffivc of furprife or peeviihnefs, is, to fay the leall of it, very jndecent. 5 As Chap. III. OF LANGUAGE. 45; As to common oaths and curfes, I need not fay any thing to convince my reader, that they are utterly unlawful, and a proof that tiie fpeaker has at one time or other kept bad company. For to the honour of the age let it be mentioned, that profane fwearing is now more generally exploded in polite fociety, than it ufcd to be in former times. In this refpctl-, as in many others, the wits of Charles the fccond's reign were mofl infamous. Queen Elizabeth was addidted to fwearing : and mofl of our old kings and barons are faid to have diflinguifhed themfelves by the ufe of fome one particular oath, which was in their mouths continually. There is a great deal of this ribaldry in the poems of Chaucer. In the antient Grammars we have adverbs of fwearing, and in- terjedions of imprecation : nay, I think I have been told formerly, that in Latin, and in Greek too perhaps, there arc oaths for men, and oaths for women ; and that if either fex invade the privilege of the other in this matter, it is a violation of the laws of fwearing, and of grammar. Swearing feems to have been more frequent in the Grecian dialogue, than in the Roman. Almoft every affirma- tion in Plato may be faid to be depofed upon oath. One interjedlion, we are told, expreffes laughter. But it is rather a mark in difcourfe, to denote, that the fpeaker is fuppofed to laugh in that place. For if, inftead of the inarticulate convulfion which we call laughter, one were to pronounce thofe three articu- late fyllables, ha ha he, the effe6l would be ridiculous. Laughter is no part of fpeech, but a natural agitation, common to all mankind, and univerfally underftood. It is needlefs to fubjoin a lift of Interjedions, as they are but few, and may be feen in any common grammar. 456 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. CHAP. IV. \ Of Conne£live3 and Articles. EVERY individual word, v/hich is comprehended under the feveral fpecies hitherto mentioned, conveys fome idea to tlie mind, even when pronounced feparate. Thus love, the noun, lovely, the adjective, /ovt-/}, the verb, loving, the participle, lovingly, the adverb ; thus the pronouns 7, fhou, he, that, this, JJje, they, &c. ; and thus the interjections, alas, Jie, jlrange ! — have, each of them, fome meaning. Eut fome forts of words there are, which, like ciphers in arith- metick, have no fignificancy when feparate, though when joined to other words they are very fignificant. Thus, from, in, and, nvith, the, convey no idea. But when I fay, " He cameyrow London, •" in the chariot, ivith a friend and fcrvant," the fenfe is compleat; and is made fo by thefe little words; which are now fo important, that, if we leave them out, and fay, " He came London the cha- " riot a friend fervant," we fpeak nonfenfe. It may be obferved, that there are in this fentence two other little words, that of themfelves mean nothing, a and the, but which, when conne6led, as above, are found to be ufefid, though not abfolutely necejhry. For, if we fay, " He came from London *' in chariot with friend and fervant," there is a meaning ; which, though awkwardly expreiied, according to the idiom of our tongue, may however be guefl'ed at ; and which, rendered literally into Latin, Venit Londino in curru cum amico etfervo, is neither awk- ward nor iingrammatical. Thofe words, therefore, which become fignificant by being con- netSled with other words, may be divided into two clafles ; the NeceJJary and the Ujrful. The former wc call ConneSiives ; the latter Articles. Of which in their order. Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 457 SECT. I. Of CONNECTIVES. ■p VE RY thing that is a Conne6live in language mufl: connefl either words or fentences, that is, either ideas or affirmations. When I fay, " He came from home," the wordjrom conne6ts two words, came and borne: when I fay, " He came from home, and he *' comforted me," the word afu/ conne6ls two fentences ; the firll, ** He came from home ;" the fecond, " He comforted me." The former fort of ConnedHves are termed Prepofitions ; the latter, Conjun6lions. § I. Of Prepofitions : with Remarks on the Cafes. The term Prefofition fignifies placing before : and it is true of almoft all the words of this clafs, that they are, or may be, put bejore the word which they connect: with fomething previous : as, " The enemy armed with darts, and mounted on horfes, fled from " us, in confufion, over the plain, toioards the river, at the foot " of the mountains, beyond which they could not pafs." A Prepofition may be defined; '• A part of fpeech, not fignifi- " cant of itfclf, but of fuch efficacy, as to unite two fignificant '• words, which, according to the natui^e of things, or the rules ** of the language, could not otherwife be united." The former part of this definition mull be plain enough already : the latter may need illuftration. Let us inquire then, what is meant by fay- ing, " that fome words, from the nature of things, and ctheis, " by the rule of the language, can be united in no other way, ** than by prepofitions." 3 N Firfl-, <* 4i8 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. Firft, when things are intimately connefted in natuiv, one would think, that the words which ftand for them might eafily coalefce in language, without the aid of connectives. And ih m fa6l they often do. No two things can be more clofely united, than a fub- ftance and its quality; a man, for example, and his chara£ler. Thefe therefore of themfelves coalefce in all the known languages : and we fay, a goo^ man, a /^// man ; vi'r bonus^ lir procerus. Here prepofitions are quite unnecefiary. — Farther, there is a conne6:ion equally intimate between the agent and the aclion ; for the a6lion is really an attribute of the agent : and therefore we fay, the boy_ reads, the man ivalks ; the noun coalefcing with the verb fo natu- rally, that no other v/ord is requifite to unite them. — Moreover, an a6lion, and that which is a6led upon by it, being contiguous in nature, and mutually affefting each other, their names would feem to be mutually attractive in language, and capable of coalefcing without external aid ; as, he reads a book, he beats his breajl, he builds an houfe, he breaks ajlone. — Further ftillj an attributive is naturally and intimately connedled with the adverb which illu- flrates or modifies its fignification : and therefore, when we fay,, he walks Jlowly, he is very learned, he is prudently brave-, it is plain that no prepofition can be neceflary to promote the coalefcence. — Thefe few examples may fuffice to fliow, that, from tiie very naturs of things, fome words may be, and are connefled, without the aid of prepofitions. But, fecondly, it is no lefs natural, that, to mark the conne6tioi> of fome other words, prepofitions fliould be neceffary. If we fay, *' the rain falls heaven; — the enemy ran the liverj — Creufa- " walked Eneas ; — the tower fell the Greeks ; — flie led him the " houfe ; — Lambeth is Weftminfter-abbey ;" — there is obfervable in each of thefe expreflions, either a total want of connexion, or. fuch a connexion as produces falfehood or nonfenfe: and it is evident, Chap. IV. OF LANGUAGE.' 459 evident, that, before they can be turned into fcnfe, the gap murt: be filled up by fome connecting word ; as thus, "the rainfalls "■from heaven; — the enemy ran towards the river; — Creufa «' walked bihind Eneas ; — the tower fell upon the Greeks ; — fhe " led him into the houfe; — Lambeth is o'-oer againft Weftminfter- " abbey." — We fee then, how prepofitions may be neceflary to conne6l thofc words, that in their fignification are not naturally connecled. Thirdly ; Jt was hinted, that, by the rule of certain languages, fome words, though coalefcing in fenfe, cannot be connecled in difcourfe, without prepofitions. When this happens, it is owing to fome peculiar dcfe6t, or to fome other peculiarity, in thofe lan- guages. For example : the inftrument wherewith one performs an aftion muft have a natural connexion with that action ; fo natural indeed, and fo intimate, that they cannot be feparated. The words, therefore, which fland for them, may, in languages that decline their nouns by cafes, be united without a prepofition : as Scribit calamo. But, if a language has no cafes, or very few, it may fo happen, that merely by fubjoining the name of the inftru- ment to the a6tive verb we fhall not be able to mai'k the connection. Thus, in Englifli, " he writes a pen," having no definite fenfe, cannot mark connexion, or any thing elfe. Here then, in our tongue, a piepofition comes to be neceftary to afcertain a particulai- luilon of \\'ords, which, according to the Englifh idiom, cannot be fo conveniently united in any other way ; and fo we fay, " he writes li-iih a pen." I fay, — " which cannot hz fo conveniently united :" for that without a prejwfition the fame fcnfe 7nay be exprefl^ed, admits of no doubt; as, " he writes, and a pen is the " inftrument." What then is the advantage of ufing prepofitions in a cafe of this kind .? The advantage is confiderable : for by this ilmple expedient we figuify in few words what would otherwife 3 N 2 require (C 460 THE THEORY Part IL requii-e many. — Again, in the Latin idiom, Arguitur fiirti hss it definite meaning ; the firflr word denoting accufation, and the fecond a crime ; and the connection between them being marked by the cafe of the noun. But in Englifh, " He is accufed theft," has no clear meaning ; becaufe there is nothing to fliow, how the words are conneded, or whether they be conne6led or not. But, by means of a prepofition (which fupplies the want of a cafe) ** He *' is accufed of theft," we unite them together, and remove all doubt in regard to their fignification. The Latin Grammarians reckon up twenty-eight prepofitions governing the accufative cafe ; fifteen that take the ablative ; and four, that have fometimes the one cafe, and fometimes the other : — in ail forty-feven. But feveral of thefe are fuperfluous ; fome larely occur ; and a few are by the bed Grammarians accounted adverbs rather than prepofitions. Hence we may infer, that many prepofitions are not necefl'ary in language. Thofe in our tongue hardly exceed thirty. But it is to be obferved, that almofl: every prepofition we are acquainted with has more than one fignification, and that fome of tiiem have feveral. The Englifh o/', for example, denotes concern- ing, as, A Treatife 0/" human nature; denotes the matter of which a thing is made, as, a cup o/'filver ; denotes the means, as, to die c/" hunger ; denotes among, as, O/" three horfes two were lame ; de- notes through, or, in confequence of, as, It is ofx\\t Lord's mercies that we are not confumed ; denotes from, as, London is fouth of York ; denotes out of, as, 0/this little he had fome to fpare ; denotes extrablion, as, Alexander the fon of Philip -, denotes belonging to, as, He is o/'the tribe of Judah ; denotes, containing, ox filled with, as, a glafs of wine, an hogfhead i?/' ale j — and has feveral other fignifications. In like manner, we might fpecify thirty fenfes of the prepofition yir ; about twenty of from, and the fame number 8 nearly Chap. IV. O F L A N C U A G E. 461 nearly of with, by, and fomc othcis : for which I refer to John- fon's Didlionaiy. Thefc varieties of meaning give trouble to thofc who are acquiring a language; but aie attcnckd with no inconve- nience, when one is mafter of it. So that we may repeat, that a fmall number of prepofitions are fufficient for the ordinary purpofes of life. In Greek, which is faid to be more perfect than any other tongue, there are only eighteen : moft of which, however, vary exceedingly in their fignification, according to the cafes that they govern, and according as they are ufed in a proper, or in a figura- tive, fenfe.' For I fpeak heie of xhc fcparable prepofitions, which are diftincl and complete words. ThoCc that are called Infeparable, are not to be confidered in Univerfal Grammar ; being neither conne6livcs, nor words, but only fyllables, which generally add fomething to the lignification of thofe words wherewith they are compounded, but never Hand by themfelves : as (in Englifli) a, be, con, mis, de, dis, &c. in the words, abide, bedeck, corijoin, mijiake, decipher^ dif- fleafr, &cc. Prepofitions, in their original and literal acceptation, fcem all to have denoted Relations of place. Tliis at lesft is true (if I miftake not) of all the Latin and Greek piepofitions without exception, as well as of all the Englifh. Tili, indeed, or uniil, is nov/ ufed of time only, as in this phrafe, " I never heard of him till this mo- ** ment :" but antiently it had, and among the vulgar in Scotland it ftill has, a more general fenfe, being of the fame import nearly with to or towards ; as in this line of Spenfer, He roufed himfelf full blithe, and haften'd i/jem until. Prifcian thinks, that the Latin c/am is not, as it is commonly faiJ to be, a prcpofition, but rather an adverb ; and alligns this reafon among others, that it never has any reference to p/ace m its fig- nification > The .462 THE THEORY Part li. The importance of prepofitions, in marking, with equal brevity and accuracy, relations in place, will partly appear from the follow- ing fentences. *' He went to a city, at the foot o/"the hill, over '• againjl a lake, that ftretches before a wide common. On this fide " o/'the city, the road winds about fome great rocks, that rife fifty • " feet above the level of the plain, then goes ftraight toivards the " v/eil, among bulhes, between two little hills. When he came " icithin the walls, and had got nigh to the market-place, beneath " the citadel, the enemy fled from him, through the flreets, out of " the city, and along the banks of the lake, 'without their baggage, '•'■ till they efcaped in boats beyond the river. He followed after, and " wras not far behind, them ; having with him fome friends, whom " he had \iXo\x^\l from home," &c. But, in all languages, Prepofitions are ufed figuratively, to fignify other relations, befides thofe of place. For example, as they who are above have in feyeral refpe6ls the advantage of fuch as are below, prepofitions exprefilng high and low place are ufed for fuperiority and inferiority in general : as, " he is above all difguife ; — he ferves " under fuch a captain; — he rules over the people; — he will do ♦' nothing beneath his high ftation." Beyond implies, not only jdiftance of place, but alfo, that between us and the diftant objedl fomething intervenes, which is alfo at fome diftance; as, '• he is " beyond fea." But perfons, or things, fo fituated with refpect :to us, cannot be immediately in our power : and hence, beyond is ufed figuratively, and in general, to fignify, out of the reach, ox out of the power of: as " Gooclnefs beyond thought, — Glorious beyond " compare, — Gratitude beyond exprefiion," — Take another exam- ple. By denotes nearnefs ; and with, famencfs, of place: as" She " was with him ; — I found him clofe v/ith Swift ; — his dwelling is " by the fea; — By the rivers of Babylon we fat and wept." Now they who are with us, or who arc by us, that is, who are in our company, Chap. I\^. OF': L A N G U A G E. 463 company, or wlio are near at hand, may co-operate with and afTift us ; but the former with a more immediate agency, and clofer con- ne6lion, t!mn the latter. Hence that figurative ufe of the pre- pofitions by and with, which is obfervable in fentences hkc the following : Fie walks 'with a ftafF, by moonlight ; He was taken by ftratagem ; and killed unth a fword. — Put the one prepofition for the other ; and fay, He walks by a ftaff with moonlight : He was taken with ftratagem, and killed by a fword : and it v/ill appear, that they differ in iignification more than one at firfl view would be-- apt to imagine; Hitherto I have confidered prepofitions as feparate v/crds. But- they are often prefixed to, fo as to form a part of, other words ; as overvalue-, undergo, 6cc. in which cafe, they generally impart fome-- thing of their own meaning to the word with v/hich they are com- pounded. And that this imparted meaning has in many cafes an allufion to place, is well illuftrated by Mr. Harris, in the followin-^ manner. " Suppofe a given fpace. E and ex fignify <5z//o/"that " fpace; /tr, through \t, from beginning to end ; iti, within \t, fo " as not to reach the boundary; fub, under it. Hence, E and Per " in compofition augment. Enormis is fomething not fimply big, " but big in excefs, Ibmcthing got out of the rule, and beyond the " boundary : Dico, I fpeak, Edico, I fpeak out ;■ whence ediSium, " an edit>, fomething fo effedually fpoken, as that all are fup- " pofed to hear and to obey it : Fari, to fpeak, Effari, to fpeak «• out; whence effatum, an axiom, or felf-evident propofition, " addreffed as it were to all men, and calling for univerfal aiTent : " Permagnus, perutilis, great throughout, ufeful in every part. " On the contrary, In ^n'\fub diminini and leflen. Injufius, iniquus, " unjufl, unequitable; that lies within juflice and equity, that " reaches not fo far, that falls Hiort of them. Sitbniger, blackiflr, " J'ubrubiciindus, 7 464 THE THEORY Part II. " fiibrubicundus, reddifh ; tending to black, and tending to red, but *' wider the ftandard, and beloiv perfe6lion." So far Mr. Harris. I Ihall only add, that it is not eafy to account for f jme coalitions of this nature ; as, for example, the Englifli compounds underfiand and under/landing. It may, however, be offered, in the way of conje6lure ; that, as he who Jlands under a thing perceives its foundation, and how it is fupported, and whe- ther it be well fupported j fo he may be faid to underftand a tloiSlrine, who comprehends the grounds or evidences of it *. Many fuch words there are in every language, to exercife the wit of the fanciful etymologift. Words compounded with prepofitions are very numerous in moft tongues, but efpecially in Greek. There we find prefixed to a word, not only one prepofition, but frequently two, and fometimes even three. Thus -f bupekproluein is compounded of three prepofitions (anfwering ^o under, from ^ and Jorivard) and a verb fignifying ia Icofe ; and this word is ufed by Homer to denote the unyoking of mules, by drawing Xhzmforivard, from under the chariot. Other languages may exprefs the fame ideas by means of three or four words ; but none, I believe, but the Greek, could exprefs them all in one. X Some Englifh prepofitions change the meaning of verbs, by being put after them. Thus, to caft, is to throw, but, to caji up, is to compute, or calculate : to give, is to bcftow, but, to give over, is to ceafe, to abandon, to conclude to be lofl : to knock, is to beat, but to knock under is a vulgar idiom denoting fubmilFion. So, to * Mr. Hirris gives another etymology. Sec Hamrs, page 37 1. ■f iTr(X.Trso).\jtv Odyfl". vi. 88. See alfo OclylT. vi. 87. J So XaiJiPocvim to take ; kxtx^^ia^kviiv to take hold of; Tr^ox.ccrcx.Xct.iJ.;ia\fti\i fo take hold of before another, to preoccupy; o.\/TiTr^oKKxoi,X:i^^xvMy to preoccupy in oppofi- tioii to another. take Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 465 take after, to learn of, to refemblc ; to take oQ, to copy, *cr mimick; to take on, to be mucli affeftcd ; to take up, to refor.ii j to lake up 'With, to be contented with ; and innumerable others. A prepofition often lofes its connecting power, and becomes an adverb. Thus round is a prepofition, when one fays, He went round the walls ; and an adverb when it is laid, I turned round, to fee who called me. The fame thing happens in other languao-es. There are two or three Latin words, of whicli it is doubted by the beft Grammarians, whether tlicy be adverbs or prcpofitions. But it is not every jn-cpofition that admits of fuch a change. Of, tcith, from, and fome others, are never adverbial. It may feem ftrange, that, in the courfe of this long inquiry concerning the eflentials of language, fo little fliould have been faid on the fubjecl of Casks. The reafon is, that Cafes are not eflential to language. They arc indeed of great importance in Cireek and Latin : but a language may be fignificant enough without them, or at leaft with very few. We have no Cafes in Englifh, except the addition of 5 in the genitive, as, " the Lords day;" and in the pronouns /, icr, thou, ye, he, they, JJje, it, which in the oblique cafe become fjie, us, thee, you, him, Jjer, them. And of our genitive in S it may be obferved, firft, that it is lefs in ufe now than for- merly; and fecondly, that it has fometimes a meaning different from that of the other genitive formed by the prepefition of, as in the above example; for, the Lords day, and the day of the Lord, are not fynonimous j the former fignifying Sunday, the latter, the day of judgment, or, a day in which God will manifeft himfelf in an extraordinary manner. This however may be owing to the repe- tition of the definite article, which in the latter phrafe points out one particular day (or time) different fiom all others. Thofe varieties of fignification, which in the Greek and Latin nouns are marked by cafes, are in Englifli and the other modern 3 O languages 466 THETHEORY Part II. languages of Europe marked, for the moft part, by prepofitions j fuch as of, to, for, by, with, andyj-o/w. Our nominative and ac- cufative, indeed, are known by their pofition, the firft being put before the verb, and the lafl: after : at leaft this is the general rule ; from which, however, writers, efpecially poets, often deviate, (as ah'eady obferved) when that can be done without perplexing the fenfe. In Hebrew, the cafe of the noun is marked by a change made, not in the end, but in the beginning of the word ; and this change is plainly a prepofition prefixed, but contradled in pronuncia- tion. Thus melech'is a ki7ig; lemelech, to a king; mimelech, from a king : el being the prepofition that correfponds to the Englifh to ; and })7i?i being fynonimous -with. from. In tlie Erfe or Gaelick, the oblique cafe, correfponding to the Latin genitive, is charaderifed by a change in the vowel or diph- thong of the laft fyllable ; as OJian, Ofiian ; Ojjiain, of Oflian : Sagard, a prieft ; Sagaird, of a prieft : — the accufative being the fame with the nominative; and the dative and ablative diftinguifiied (like our dative and ablative) by prepofitions. ^ There is fome inaccuracy in the do6lrine of Cafes, as commonly received among Grammarians j fo that it is not eafy, nor perhaps poflible, to exprefs the meaning of the word cafe in a definition. For, what is it, tliat conftitutes a cafe ? Is it a peculiar termination, or inflexion of the noun ? Then, firft, in the plural of Latin nouns, there can be no more than four cafes, becaufe there are no more than four terminations ; the dative being uniformly the fame with the ablative, and the nominative with the vocative. And then, fecondly, it cannot be faid, that there are, in any one of the declen- fions, fo many as fix cafes of the fingular : for, in the firft, the genitive and dative agree in termination ; in the fecond, the dative and ablative -, m the third, the nominative and vocative ; in the fourth, J Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 467 fourth, the nominative, vocative, and genitive; and in the fifth, both the nominative and vocative, and the genitive and dative. In fixing the number of their cafes, the Latin grammarians fcem to have been determined by three confiderations : firft, by the ter- mination or inflexion ; fecondly, by the meaning, or the relation fubfifting between the noun and the word that governs it ; and thirdly, by a regard to uniformity, or a defire of giving the fame number of cafes to the fingular and to the plural, and of allowing as many to one declenfion, as to another. And I am inclined to think, that, by this method, though not fl:ri6lly philofophical, both their declenfions and their fyntax are rendered more intelligible, than they would have been upon any other plan. If we admit the termination to be the fole chara6leriftick of a Cafe, then there are in Englifli no more cafes, than the few above fpecified. If cafes are to be diftinguiflied by the different fignifica- tions of the noun, or by the dillvrent relations which it may bear to the governing word, then we have in our language as many cafes almoft, as there are prepofitions : and, above a man, beneath a man, beyond a man, round about a man, within a man, without a man, 6cc. fliall be cafes, as well as, of a man, to a man, and with a man. In faft, it can hardly be faid, that there are Cafes, in any fenfc of the word, except in thofe nouns that vary their ter- minations : and therefore, we may repeat, that there are no cafes in Englifh, or very few; and that, confequcntly, Cafes are not «flential to language. For that, though the few we have were ftruck out of the Englifli tongue, it would Hill be intelligible, though not fo elegant, is a point, which can hardly admit of dif- 'pute. In fome parts of England, Jie is ufed for bcr, and uv for us, without inconvenience ; the genitive in Sis lefs frequent than that other genitive which is formed by the prepofition of, and both are equally perfpicuous J and, of I, to ly of thou, 'with thou, Ifaw 3 O 2 l^e. 463 THE THEORY Part 11. he^ Ifaw tht\\ if they were as common, would certainly be as v\-ell underfbood, as of me, to mt\ of thee, niith thee, I faw him, I fans) them. The origin of the word Cafe, and of fome other grammatical terms relating to nomis, is very oddly explained by fome authors ; but has plaufibility enough to deferve notice. They tell us, that, among the moft antient Greek Grammarians, a Une falling perpen- dicularly was the fymbol of the nominative eafe^ and that lines falling, not perpendicularly, but with different degrees of obliquity, were confidered as the fymbols of the other cafes. Hence the firft obtained the name of Cafus reBus, or the ereSl cafe -, and the others were called Cafus obllqui, the oblique cafes : hence they were all de- nominated Cafus, or Fallings : and hence, an enumeration of the feveral cafes or fallings of the noun is known by the name of a Declenfon ; becaufe it exhibits a fort of declining progrefs, from the noun's perpendicular form, through its feveral fymbolical obliquities. If it were aflced, Whether a language with cafes, like the Greek and the Latin, or one, which, like the Englilli, declines its nouns .by prepofitions, deferve the preference 3 I fhould anfwer^ firft, that in point of perfpicuity neither has any advantage over the oxhtv ; Regis, regi, rege, of a king, to a king, with a king, being all equally intelligible: — and fecondly, that the modern has more fuTiphcity than the antient j becaufe he who can dechne one Engliih noun may, if he know the fmgular and plural termina- tions, decline any other j which is by no means the cafe in the Latin and Greek. But, thirdly, it muft be allowed, that tlie Claffick tongues de- rive from the inflection of their nouns a very great fuperiority, in refpedl of elegance. For, firft, what they exprefs by one word ^ennce (for example) we cannot exprefs by fewer than two, or per- haps Chap. IV. G F L A N G U A G E. A6g hai)s three, of pen, of a pen, of i he pen. Bcfides, the varieties of terniiiiatioa in the Greek and Latin nouns contributes not a Uttic to their harmony : wliile the unvaried found of our fubdantives, with the perpetual repetition of fuch little words as of to, for, ivith, &c. give a harfhnefs to the language, which would certainly be oflcnfive to an eai", that iiad long been inured to tlie modulation of the antient tongues. But the chief advantage of diverfified termination, both in nouns and in verbs, confifts (as formerly hinted) in this, that it leaves the compofer at liberty to place his words in any order, which he may think will moft cffeclually promote variety, and energy, as well as harmony, of ftile. Whereas, in the modern tongues, the. relation that one word bears to another being in a great meafurc determined by their pofition, we are often confined to one particular arranee,- mentj and, when we depart from that, and attempt thofe. devia- tions from the grammatical order which are fo graceful in. antient authors, are apt to write obfcurely and affcd:edly. — In this refpecl, however, the Engiifli tongue is more fufceptible of variety than the French, and Englifti verfe than Engiifli profe. Indeed, almofh all arrangements of words, that do not pei'plex the fenfe, are per- mitted in our poetry, efpecially in our blank verfe : a privilege, . whereof Milton availing himfelf in its full latitude, difplays in the P/iradife Lofi a variety and elegance of compofition, which have never been equalled in any other modern tongue, and may . bear to be compared with the moll elaborate performances of antiquity. Our want of inflection in our nouns, adjectives, and participles, makes us, in our written language, more dependent uponi^unctua- tion, than the antients wci'e. Indeed, of punctuation, as we un- deritand it, they had no idea : and it does not appear, that they fuffered any inconvenience from the vyant of it, Whereas, in . 4 modern . 470 THE THEORY Part II. modern language, the mifplacing or omifllon of a point will often alter the fenfe : and, if we had no points, we fliould find it difficult to write fo as to be underftood ; to write elegantly, and yet intelli- gibly, would be impoffible. There is a paflage in Cato ; which, from being generally, if not always, mifpointed, is, I think, ge- nerally mifunderflood : The ways of heaven are dark and intricate, Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors : Our underflanding traces them in vain. Loft and bev>'i]der'd in the fruitlefs fearch ; &c. Thus the lines are printed in all the editions I havefeen. And yet, it can hardly be fuppofed, that Addifon's piety would have per- mitted him to fay, or to make Cato fay, that " the ways of heaven " are perplexed with errors j" or that his tafte would have war- ranted fuch an expreffion as, " the ways of heaven are puzzled." I therefore prefume, that the firft line is a fentence by itfelf, and ought to end in a point or colon j and that the fequel, ranged in the grammatical order, amounts to thisj " Our underftanding, " puzzled in mazes, and perplexed with errors, traces the ways of " heaven in vain :" which is both elegant and true. Now this ambiguity could not have taken place in Latin or Greek, nor in- deed in French or Italian, even though there had not been one point in the fentence: becaufe the participles puzzled and perplexed would have been made to agree with the fiiigular noun under- jlanding; in which cafe they could not alfo agree with the plural noun 'wa^s. In explaining the feveral cafes, and fliowing, why there are nei- ther more nor fewer, and why fo many, and what is the nature of each, fome authors have been more particular, and difplayed greater fubtlety, than in my opinion was requifite. As to the number of cafes, grammarians have always differed in their fentiments, and arc Chap.IV. OF LANGUAGE. 471 are not reconciled to this day. Many explode the ablative, becaufe the Greeks could do without it ; and fome will not allow the voca- tive to be a cafe, becaufe It is often, both in Latin and in Greek, the fame with the nominative. Ariftotle and the Peripateticks maintained, that the nominative is not a cafe ; and the Stoicks were equally pofitive, that it is. In the Armenian language, the number of cafes is faid to be ten : and I fliould not wonder, if a gram- marian, much given to novelty and paradox, were to affirm, that there are in Englifli as many cafes almoft as there are prepofiiions. While opinions are fo different in regard to the precife number, it is vain to inquire, why there are neither more nor fewer, and why fo many. The nature of each particular cafe may be better underftood by examples, than by logical definition. Indeed, all the definitions I have feen of the feveral cafes are liable to objetlion ; except, per- haps, that of the nominative, which is given by Mr. Harris, who> calls it, " That cafe, without which there is no regular and per- " feci fentence." *' The Accufative," fays the fame author, " is that cafe, which ** to an efficient nominative, and a verb of a(fl:ion, fubjoins, either " the effedl, or the paffive fubje6l :" — the effect, as when I fay, Lyfippui fecit Jlatuas^ Lyfippus made flatues ; the fubje6l, as in this example, Achilles vulneravit HeSlora., Achilles wounded He6lor. But this, though frequently, is not univerfally true. When it is faid, Antonius la/it Cicerotiem^ the firft word is an efficient nomi- native, the fecond an adive verb, and the third an accufative, accord- ing to tlie definition : but when I fay, Antonius fiocuit Ciceroni, the efficient nominative and aftive verb are followed, not by an accufative, but by a dative. And there are other verbs of active fignification, as Portior, for example, which take after them, rarely an accufative^ fometimes a genitivCj and frequently an ablative. And what fhall 5 we 472 T H E T H E O R Y Part 11. we fay of accufatives governed by prepofitions ; as habitat juxta monfcm, \\t dwells near the mountain ? For neither is habitat, he dwells t an aftive verb ; nor is the mountain, in any fenfe of the words, either the fubjeft or the efFeiSl of his dwelUng -, and yet 7novtcm., the mountain, is the accufative. The Genitive, according to the fame learned writer, ex'prcfles all r-elations commencing /;w;; itfelf; and the Dative, all relations tending to itfelf. Yet, when I fay, editus rcgibus, defcended of kings, I exprefs a relation commencing from the kings, who are, notvv'ithftanding, of the ablative cafe, in the Latin : and et-ipuit fiiorti, he refcued from death, is in Latin dative, and exprcffes, for all that, a relation tending, not to death, but fro?n it. — One may fey indeed, that thefe are refinements in the language, and deviations fi'om the primitive fyntax. But I know not, how we are to judge of cafes, except from the purpofes to which they are applied in the languages that have them ; nor on what authority we have a right to fuppofe, that the primitive fyntax of Greek and Latin was dif- ferent from that which we find in Greek and Latin authors. In a word, every cafe, almoft, is applied to fo many purpofes in fyntax, that to defcribe its ufe in a fingle defiiiition, feems to be impofliblo, or at leaft fo difficult, and withal fo unnecelfary, tliat it is Jiot worth wliile to attempt it. None of the antient gram- marians, fofar as I know, has ever made the attempt : and I believe it will be allowed, that in this fort of fubtlety they are not inferiour to their brethren of modern times. § 2. Of Conjimflions. I divided Conne6lives into two claffes ; Prepofitions, which con- ne6t words, and Coniun6lions, which conne6l fentences. A Conjunclion may be thus defined : " A part of fpcech, void '" itfelf of fignification, but of fuch efficacy, as to join fentences *' together, and lho\v their dependence upon one another." The Conjun^lionj Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 47 J Conjun6lion, fays Ariflotle, makes many one : and Ammonius com- pares the words of this clafs to thofc pegs and nails by which t.ie feveral parts of a machine are united. Perhaps it may be thought, that Conjunction"?, as well as prc- pofitions, do fomctimes connc6t words j as when we fay, He is a learned anJ a wife and a good man. But this fentence, when ana- lyfed, will be found to confifl of three di(lin6l fentences ; — he is a learned man ; — he is a wife man ; — he is a good man ; oi', — he is learned, — he is wife, — he is good: which three would for ever remain diftincl and feparate, if we had no conne6ling words to unite them in one fentence ; even as the feveral parts of a fliip would remain feparate, if we had no pegs or nails to faftcn them together. So, when it is faid, Peter and John went to the temple, it may feem, that the conjunction ^mJ connects only the two names Pe(er and Jo/jn: but it really conneds two fentences, — Peter went to the temple, — John went to the temple ; for unlefs we fuppofe the words, ivent to the temple, to belong both to Peter and to John, the expreffion has no meaning. In this account of the Conjunction, Scaliger, Sanctius, VofTius, Urfinus, and Mr. Harris agree. But Perizonius is of opinion, and Ruddiman feems to think, that conjunctions do fometimes connect words, and not fentences; as in examples, like the follow- ing: Saul and Paul are the fame: This book coll a fliilling ^«^ more : There is war between England aiid France. Each of thefe, no doubt, is one fentence, and, if we keep to the fame phrafeology, incapable of being broken into two. For, if inftead of the firft we fay, " Saul is the fame — Paul is the fame," we utter nonfenfe; becaufe the predicate y^»z. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 485 nlfication, ought for the fame reafon to govern the Indicative : as " The room is dark becaufc the day is cloudy : S'pice he repents, " I forgive him : As he is a worthy man, he may be afTurcd of my " friendfhip." — But this rule is not without exception. It dc- fcrves, however, to be remembered ; as it is generally attended to by Latin authors ; and as in Englifh we can feldom or never go wrong, if we follow it. * SECT. II. Of the A R T I C L E. 'T"^ H E words, that become fignificant by being joined to other words, I divided, in the beginning of this chapter, into twa clafies, the Nccejfary^ and the Ufeful. The former, called Con- nedlives, being now confidered, it only remains, that I explain tlie latter, which are known by the name of Articles. The word article, articulus, -f- arthron, properly fignifies a joint. It would feem, that the fii'ft Grammarians thought there was fome- thing of a joining power in the words of this order. But, if they thought fo, they were miftaken. The article is no connective. It is a Definitive : being ufed for the purpofe of defining, afcertain- ing, or limiting, the fignification of thofe words to which it is pre- fixed. Perhaps, however, they may have given it this name, with a view to ibme metaphorical allufion. In order to difcover its ufe, u-e muft recollect:, that all nouns, proper names excepted, are general terms, or common ajipslia- * See above, page 413, .j- a.^'i^Dv. lives. 486 THE THEORY Part II. tivcs. The word mountain is equally applicable to all mountains, and the word man to all men. Every velTel of a certain fize and form, which is made for failing, may be called y/;//) ; and the terms 'valour, bounty, wifdom, belong to every pei Ton, who is valiant, boun- tiful, wife. But, though it is true, of the names of things, that they are of general meaning, things themfelves are all individuals. No one man is either lefs or more than one ; and every man has pecu- liarities, whereby he may be diilinguiflied from all others. How, then, are we to reconcile the univerfality of names with the individuality of things ? In other words : when we make ufe of a common appellative, as tnan, houfe, mountain, what method do we take to intimate, that we fpeak of one, and not of many ; of an individual, and not of a fpecies .'' There are feveral ways of doing this: and, particularly, it may be done by Articles, or Definitives. For example : I fee an animated being, which has no proper name, or of whofe proper name I am ignorant. In fpeaking of it, therefore, I muft refer it to its fpecies, and call it man, dog, horfe, or the like ; or, if I know not the fpecies, I refer it to its genus, and call it animal. But this animated being is itfelf neither a genus, nor a fpecies; it is an individual: and therefore, in fpeaking of it, fo as to mark its individuality, I call it a horfe, a man, a dog, an nnimal : which intimates, that I fpeak of one, and not of many; of an individual being, and not of a clafs of beings. This article, therefore, A or Jn, has the fame fignification nearly with the numerical word one. And accordingly, in French and Italian, the fame word that denotes unity is alfo the article of which I now fpeak. Nay, in fome of the diale6ls of old Englifli, this feems to have been the cafe ; for an is the fime with one in the Saxon ; and the vulgar in Scotland ftill uie a (pronouncing it, as in the word 8 name) Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 487 name) in the fcnfe of one; as a day, one clay, " a mornhif I was " early out," for, one morning. — Now obfcrvc, that, when it is faid, I fee a man, I fee an animal, the a or an, thougli it afcertains the individuality, gives no further intimation concerning the thing fpoken of. It is therefore called the Indefinite article. Again : I fee a certain animal, which I never faw before, or of which, though I may know to what fpecies it belongs, I have no previous acquaintance j and I fay, I fee an elephant, a dwarf, a bear, &c. Next day, the fame animal comes again in view j and 1 fay, recognizing it as the fame, There is the elephant, the dwarf, the bear : changing the former indefinite article into another, which not only intimates individuality, but alfo implies previous acquaint- ance. This, from its power of afcertaining fome one individual, in preference to others of the fame fpecies, is called the Definite article: and it will appear in the fcquel to be much more nfefiil than the other. We have, therefore, in Englifli, two articles or definitives, A or An, and T^he : the former applicable to any one of a kind or fort ; the other ufed for the purpofe of dilHngui filing yj/w^ particular one. In French and Italian there are two correfpondent articles. In Greek, there is no indefinite article ; the noun without an article having the fame meaning with our indefinite article piefixed to a noun ; as * aner, a man : but there is a definite article -|- ho^ he, to, which is for the moft part of tlie fame import with our Englifh the; as :|; ho aner, the man. In the Hebrew, as in Greek, there is no indefinite article ^ but there is a definite article, which they prefix to the noun fo as to make one word with it j and which, like the Englifii article, has. no diftindion of gender or number. * a""? . t ^'j "'> TO. X a-.r,^. Li ^88 T H E T H E O R Y Part II. In the Erfe or Gaclick tongue, they have alfo a definite, but no indefinite, article. And the ufe of the article feems to have been pretty general in all the primitive tongues of the north of Europe, the Gothick, and Teutonick, as well as the Celtick^ from which we may account for the prevalence of thefe little words in our modern tongues. For it is remarkable, that, though all the languages derived from the Latin have articles, yet the Latin itfelf has none. Whence then did they get theirs ? I anfwer, from thofe northei-n nations who overturned the empire of Rome, and v>'ho, though they in part adopted the language of the vanquiflied Ro- mans, did alfo introduce into it a great variety of their own words and idioms. That which is veiy eminent is fuppofed to be generally known. Hence the definite article may convey an idea of eminence, as well as of previous acquaintance. A king is any king; but the king is that perfon whom we acknowlege for our fovereign. So when we fay fimply, the kingdom, the nation, the government, we of Great Britain mean the Britlvh government, nation, kingdom, &c. Sometimes we denote eminence by omitting the article : we fay, a member of parhament ; an act of parliament ; rather than, of the parliament. In this cafe, the thing fpoken of is fo very eminent, that it needs no article to make it more fo : and befides, a parlia- ment, in our fenfe of the word, is an inflitution peculiar to Britifii policy. The twelve French Parhaments are rather courts of juftice than legiflative aflemblies. And, among the vulgar of North Bri- tain, whofe language abounds in French idioms, the fame idea appears to be ftill annexed to the term : for they fpeak of appeal- ing to the Eritip parliament from a fentence of the Court of SelTion; though they know, that the appeal is made, not to the Parliament, (in the Englidi fcnfc of the word) but to the Houfe of Lords. In Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 4g^ In Greek too, as in Englifli, the article is a mark of eminence : * ho poietes, the poet, is ufed for Homer, the grcatcft of poets ; and •f- hojlageh-itcs, the Stagyrite, for Ariftotle, who was the moft famous of all the natives of the city Stagyra. That which is nearly connefted with us, or which from its vici- nity we have been long acquainted with, becomes eminent in our eyes, even though, in itfclf, and compared with other things of the fame kind, it be of no particular importance. One who lives near a very little town fpeaks of it by the name of the toiun. Every clergyman within his own parilh is called the mmijler or the parfon ; and if in a village there be only one merchant or one fmith, his neighbours think they diftinguifh him fufficicntly, by calling him the fmith or the merchant. A tree, a rock, a hill, a river, a mea- dow, may be fpoken of in the fame manner, with the fame emphafis. He is not returned from the hill: he is bathing in the river : I faw him on the top of the rock : Will you take a walk in the meadow'^ A branch is blown down from the tree. In thefe examples, the definite article is ufed ; becaufe the thing fpoken of, being in the neighbourhood, is well known, and a matter of fome importance to the people who are acquainted with it. That we may perceive, yet more clearly, the fignificancy of the articles, let us put the one for the other, and mark the confe- quence. When it is faid, that " the anceftors of the prefent Royal " Family were kings in England three hundred years before the " Conqueror," the fenfe is clears as every body knows, that the perfon here fpoken of by the name of the conqueror is William duke of Normandy, who fubdued England about feven hundred years ago. But if we fay, that " the anceftors of the Royal Family •' were kings in England three hundred years before a conqueror,", 3 R wc 49Q T H E T H E O R Y Part IL we fpeak nonfenfe. — Again, when it is faid, that ** health is a moft " delirabk thing," there is no man who will not acquiefce in the propofuion ; which only means that health is 072$ of thofe things that are to be very much defired. But, take the other article, and fay, '• Health is the moR: defirable thing," and you change it from true to falfe : for this would imply, that nothing is fo defire- able as health ; which is very wide of the truth ; virtue, and a good confcience, being of infinitely greater value. — Moreover, if, inftead of " Man is born to trouble," we fay " yf man is born to trou- " ble," there is no material change in the fenfej only tlie former is more folemn, perhaps becaufe it is more concife : and here, by the by, we may fee, that the indefinite article is fometimes of no great ufe. But if we fay, " T^hc man is born to trouble," tha maxim is no longer general ; feme one particular man is hinted at.> :jnd they to whom we fpeak would, naturally alk, What man ?. The Isarned Billiop Lowth has^ fliovvn, in, liis excellent Englifii o-iammar, that, in fome inftances, our tranflation of the New Teita- ment has ipifreprefented tlie fenfe o£ the. original Greek, by not attending to the article.. •' When the Spirit of truth is come," fays the tranflation^. " he will guide you into all truth :" a pro^ mife, or a prophecy, which was not fulfilled by the. event j for, after the coming of tlie Spirit on the day of Pentecofl, it is proba- ble, that the Apoftles remained, ignorant of many truths ; indeed, it is. not polBble, tJiat they could, know every thing.. But in the Greek of tliis paffage we have, an article (omitted in the Tranfla- tion) which gives a very different fenfe : — •' he will guide you into " all i/.!t' truth;" * tb^t; is, into all Evangelical (or Chriflian). truth;, a prediflion, which the event did fully jiiflify. — Take another, itiflance. When a Roman Centurion perceived the miraculous cir--. cumf^ancesi Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 491 cumflances that accompanied the Crucifixion, our Bible informs us, that he fald, " Truly this was the Soti of God :" which would imply, what is not likely, that this centurion was acquainted with our Saviour's hillory and do6lrines, and particularly knew, that he called himfelf the Son of God, in a peculiar and incommunicable fenfe. But the Greek has not this article ; and fliould therefore have been rendered, " Truly this was a Jon of God," * or an extraordinary perfon, and fuperior to a mere m-an : a remark, which even heathens, though ignorant of our Saviour's hiftory, might reafonably make, on feeing the prodigies of earthquake and darknefs that accompanied his laft fuftcring. Sometimes, however, our two articles do not differ fo widely in fignification. Thus, we may fay, " It is true as ibe proverb " declares ;" or, *' it is true as a proverb, or as a certain proverb " declares, that," &c : and the change of the article docs not make any material change in the fenfe. In like manner we fay, " That " heaven fmiles at the. perjury of lovers, is a pernicious maxim of *' the poet ;" where the two laft words allude, not to Homer, or Virgil, or any other poet of the firft rank, but to Ovid, who was of an inferiour order. And this fentence would lofe nothing of its fignification, if we were to fubftitute the other article, and fay, *' A poet has delivered a pernicious maxim, when he affirms, that " heaven fmiles at the perjury of lovers." — A fimilar idiom may be, found in Greek. Thus Ariftotle : " Change is the Avcetefl of all * Or rather, a fon of a Gca'i or, wliich is the fame thing here, the fan of a God, as Dr. Campbell reni ^£ trxvruv yKvxMrxrov, xura tcv woihtjip. Ethic, ad Nicom. lib. 7. ■\ «i«9fU7ro;, «v3fU7r<;f. % nXotov, to ttXoiou. In paflages, like the following from Shakfpeare, Lady, you are the criielleftT^^ alive The fair, the charte, the unexprelTiveT?;^ Tfufiees of Italy will not betray the word Skt is not pronominal, but a noun of the fame import with wcmany or hdy. 5 But Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 493 But in Greek it is not always fo : Socrates is fometimcs called * ho Sokrates; and his wife, be Xanthippe. Moft grammarians con- fider this as a redundancy in the Gicck ; or, at bell, as an expedient to mark the gender. The Author of an Effay On the origin and progrefs of language affirms, that the Greeks prefixed the article to the proper names, either of perfons who were eminent ; or of fuch perfons, whether eminent or not, whofe names had been formerly mentioned in the difcourfe : and that, therefore, ho Sokrates fignifies, either the famous Socrates, or the abovementioned Socrates. This once appeared to me fo plaufible, that I adopted it ; confiding in the accuracy and erudi- tion of the Author; both which I know to be very great. But fome Greek paflages occurring to my memory firft made me doubt- ful : and, on looking a little into books with this particular view, 1 was fatisfied, that the learned writer is miftaken. See the intro- dutlory paragraph of the Anabafis of Xenophon ; in which, with- out the article, Darius is named three fevernl times, Paryfatis twice or thrice, and Artaxerxes as often. See alfo the beginning of Xenophon's Memorabilia; where Socrates himfelf is mentioned by iiame twelve times (if I miftake not) without the article, before he is once mentioned with it. I am now, therefore, convinced, that thofe Grammarians are in the right, who confider the Greek article, when prefixed to proper names of men and women, as a pleonafm, or as an expedient, in certain cafes, to clear the fenfe, afcertain the gender, or improve the harmony. The Italians prefix the definite article to fome of their moft cele- brated names ; as // Dante, II Petrarca, II TaJJh ; and even to famous fingers and fiddlers, as La Frafi, II Senefmo, II Tartini: in which they have of late been imitated by fome of the people of London, who, fpeaking of favourite muficians, fay, The Min- gotti. 494 THE THEORY Pait II. gotti, fhe GahYielW, 6cc; but this is afFe6\ation, and fuits not the idiom of the Enghfli tongue. — Another falliion, not unlike this, hac been lately introduced, which, though alfo contrary to idiom, will probably eitablifli itfelf in the language, as it is now generally adopted : "I was laft night in company with a Mr. Such-a-one, " who told us fome good ftories." The indefinite article is here put for the word one -, and the meaning is, that the perfon is not known, or very little known, to thofe who fpeak of him in this manner. To the proper names of fome great natural objeiSts, as mountains ^nd rivers, we prefix the definite article in Englilli, as they alfo do in French; and fay, the Alps, the Grampians, the Andes, the Thames, the Tiber, the Dee : but to fmgle mountains however large we do not prefix it; we fay, Etna, Atlas, Lebanon, Olympus, Morven, not the Etna, the Atlas, &c. — In France, theydillingaifl-i the names of certain countries by the definite article ; as la France, I'Angleterre, TEfpagne; but this is not done in Englifli. Indeed our way of applying the article differs in many refped:s from theirs: but I cannot enter into particulars, without quitting the tracl: of Univerfal Grammar. When a proper name belongs to feveral perfons, it may become fi fort of common appellative, and take the article; as the Cefars, the Gordons, the Howards. And the article may alfo be applied to diftinguifh one perfon from another of the fame name ; as " The " Pliny, who wrote the Natural Hiftory, is not t/je Pliny who *' compofed the panegyrick on Trajan." In this ufe, the definite article coincides nearly in l'cn(c with the pronominal article fbat. And this fame pronoun t/jat we fometimes ufe for the definite article. Thus I prefume it is ufcd in a very folemn pafiagc of Scripture ; ■where Jehovah, appearing in the burning bufli to Mofes, declares 3ijs n^rn.e in thelc words, " I am d>at I am ;" that is, " I am t/je ^ I AM;'" Chnp. IV. OF LANGUAGE. 495 " I AM ;" or " I am t be great I am :" I am he, wlio alone ponefTts perfc6l and independent exiftence. This example I the rather tak^ notice of, becaufe a learned author infmuatcs, that there is no fenfer- in it, as it ftajids in the Englifti Bible; and contends, that it fliould have been rendered, as in the Greek of the Scptuagint, " I am the being," or rather, " I am he who is." * But it feems to me, that in our verfion the pafiage is not kfs fignificant. Indeed; if we pronounce it, as is commonly done, " I ^wthat I am," layi- ing the cmphafis on the two verbs, and without any emphafis on, the pronominal article //li?/, it will not appear to have any gram- matical propristy. But let arv emphafis be laid on that, which is here a mofi: cmphatical word ; and another emphafis on the con* eluding words I am, which arc ilill more emphatical, becaufe they are the name by which the Deity is here pleafcd to make himfelf known ; and the pafiage will be found to be both intelligible and fublime. — The fame emphatical vife of the pronoun that occurs in ©ther parts of the Englifli Bible^ " Arx thou that my Lord Elijah ?" fays Ahab's meflenger to the Prophet': that is. Art thou t\\Q great or the celebrated Lord Elijah ? " This is that king Ahaz," fays the hiftorian, after fpecifying fome of his wicked actions : Tins is the king Ahaz fo notcrloiis for his imj^ety. -f" Articles being fo important, it may be doubted whether I exprefs myfelf properly, when.I atlirm, that they are ufeful in language; but not ncceflary.; and whether the Latin tongue, which is fupi- pofed to have no article, mufl: not, on that account, be very defi* cient in both peifpicuity and energy. This matter dcferves to be confidered.. It is true, that many learned men h^ve thought, that the want of an article is a great deficiency in the Latin tongue : and fomc modern authors have gone fo far as=tofay, that -this alone makes it improper for philodbphy. Yet Quintilian, who underftood Greek *^ Eyo fiwi ijv. f I Kings xviii. 7. 2 Chron..xxviii. 2z. ^ and. 496 THE THEORY Part II. and Latin better, as I fuppofe, than any modern can pretend to do, and who alfo appears to have been a proficient in philofophy, declares, that the Latin tongue has no need of articles j and Scaliger, one of the mofl learned men and ableft grammarians of latter times, is of the fame opinion : for that, by means of ipfe and ille, and fome other pronouns, every thing of real importance, which the Greek article can exprefs, may be fignified in Latin. And I think they are right. If, for example, I am defired to tranflate thofe words of Scripture, in which the article is indeed moft emphatical, " And Nathan faid unto David, Thou art the •' man :" what is eafier than to fay, Et dixit Nathan Davidit Tu es ilk homo ; or, more fimply, Tu es ilk ; or, more fimply flill, for the context would bear it, Tu es ? — " I am that I am," may be rendered as emphatically in Latin, as in Englifli or Greek, Ego fum ilk Ego sum ; or. Ego fum ille cui nomen Ego sum. The firft verfe of St. John's Gofpel, in which the articles are very fignificant, and which we tranflate exaftly and literally from the Greek, " In the beginning was the Word, and the Word wras " with God, and the Word was God," ?>iay no doubt be rendered ambiguoufly in Latin thus, Li principio fuit Verbum^ et Verbum fuit apud Deum, et Verbum fuit Deus *. For this might be fo turned into Englifli, as to produce nonfenfe and blafphemy. But that would be the fault, not of the language, but of the tranflator. For one, who underftands Greek and Latin, and is attentive to the meaning, and anxious to preferve it, would render the verfe, as in the Port Royal Greek Grammar it is rendered. In principio erat Verbum illud, et Verbum illud erat apud Deum, et illud Verbum erat Deus : — which is as expreflive, as either the Englifli, or the Greek. If it be faid, that this Latin is not elegant, on account of the repetition of the pronoun ; I anfwer, firfl, that elegance is not to be expelled in a tranflation fo exa6tly literal -, and, fecondly, * Caftalio's tranflation of this verfe is not much better, . that Chap. IV. O F L A N G U A G E. 497 that in a fenthnent of fuch importance, and vvliich human wifdom could never have difcovered, accuracy of exprefllon is more requi- fite, than Claflical purity. Had St. John written in Latin, he would have delivered this doftrine with equal energy, and probably with more elegance : which every perfon, who is acquainted with that language, knows might eafily be done, if one is not limited to any particular phrafeology. When woids are materially taken ; that is, when they appear in a difcourfe as words only, and not as fignificant of any idea; as when we fay, '* The word Boifleroiis has a harfli found;" — the article is ufeful in Greek, to indicate their nature. And I obfervc, that verbal criticks often introduce the Greek article in their Latin annotations, in order to point out fuch words when they occur: as, " Deed to cji in manufcriptis quibufdam, The ^^ is wanting " in fome manufcripts," But this is an affectation, for which there is not the leaft nccefllty. •' In Manufcriptis quibufdam deeft ♦' iLLUD eji," is good Latin, and perfeflly intelligible. Tully himfelf has faid, " Quid enim eft hoc ipfum diu?" I deny not, that, in fuch Greek books as the Analyticks and Metaphyficks of Ariftotle, there may be points of doflrine, which the Roman language, from its want of an article, cannot cxprefs, without either adopting fome of the Greek terms, or giving a licence to barbarous latinity. But this is no material grievance. Many things are delivered in thofe books, as maxims of univerfal fcience, which are only grammatical obfervations on particular Greek words; and which, therefore, cannot be tranfplanted into a foreign tongue, unlefs thofe Greek words are tranfplanted along witli them : even as, in an Englifn grammar of the Latin language, you cannot fpeak fo as to be underftood, unlefs you illuftrate what you fay by Latin examples. — Befides, when we borrow arts or fcisnces from another nation, we muft always borrow fomething of their native phrafeology. Thus, in fortification, we ufe many French, in -: S mufick 498 THE THEORY Part 11. mufick many Italian, and in rhetorick and medicine many Greek, words. And thus, if we were to write the Hiftory of England in Latin, we fliould be obliged to coin many words that were never known in antient Rome; in order to exprefs thofe peculiarities of Government and manners, of which the Romans could not fpeak, becaufethey had no idea; as parUament, chancery, peers, commons, guns, bayonets, cannon, 6cc. — In fa6l, Aj-iftotle's metaphyfical writings feem never to have been in any repute among the Romans of the Claffick ages. That intelligent people adopted what was valuable in the Greek philofophy : but thofe verbal fubtleties and fpeculations, that had nothing to do with bufmefs, or the condufl of life, they neglefted ; and I think with good reafon. That articles are not of neceffary ufe, even in Greek, may ap- pear from this, that the Grecian poets, efpecially Homer, frequently omit them : though I know not, whether there be extant an au- thor more perfpicuous than Homer, notwithflanding his great antiquity. To which I may add, that, in the Attick dialed, articles are either ufed or omitted, according as they are thought to be more or lefs ornamental in difcourfe. — In Englifli, the definite article may often be dropped, without any ambiguity ; as, " Horfe " and man fell to the ground," for the horfe, and the man. This cmifTion is common in our burlefque poems ; as, " And pulpit, " drum ecclefiaftick, Was beat with fift inflead of a flick :" that is, the pulpit was beat with the fifl:. And of fo little account is our indefinite article, that it is never piefixed to norms of the plural number: we fay, " ^ man is coming," if there be but one; but, if more than one, we fay, " M-w are coming." The French, indeed, give a plural to their indefinite article; un homme^ a man, des hommes, men, or fome men : but furely, this plural cannot in that, or in any, language be neceflary, when in our own we hardly perceive that it is wanting. 8 Yet, Chap. IV. OF LANGUAGE. 497 Yet, that there are in Latin no ambiguities arifing from the want of an article, I will not affirm. In the beginning of the Eneid, Juno, calling to mind thofe manifold grievances, which made her refolve upon the deftruftion of the Trojan fleet, exclaims, Pallafne exurcre claflem Argivum, atque ipfos potuit fubmcrgcre ponto 1 Thefe words may bear two interpretations : Could Pallas burn the Grecian fleet ! or, Could Pallas burn a Grecian fleet ! The laft is the true one ; for the whole Grecian fleet was not burned by Pallas, but that fquadron only, which belonged to Ajax the fon of Oileus. Now here is an ambiguity, which Virgil might eafily have avoided, if he had written in a language that either had an indefinite article, like the Englifh, or, like the Greek, could have conveyed an indefinite fenfe by omitting the article. But of fo little importance is this ambiguity, that I doubt whether the poet would have thought it worth his while to guard againft it; as no perfon, who knows any thing of the poetical hiftory, could be at a lofs to dif- cover the meaning. Many things occur both in fpeech and in writing, which they only can underfland, who attend to what goes before, and to what comes after. And if we be not in fome meafure prepared for the ftudy of an author, by a little previous acquaint- ance vyith his fubjeft, we muft in the cleared language find obfcu- rity, efpecially in the beginning of a work. As to the obfcurity in queftion, it is certain, that, without the help of any article, and by the native powers of the Latin tongue, Virgil could have avoided it ; as it is probable he would, if he had thought it a blemifli. I would not infmuate, that the Latin is as comprehenfive a lan- guage as the Greek. Both Lucretius and Cicero complain, that on the fubjecl: of philofophy it is deficient. But this, I prefume, is not owing to the want of an article ; nor do they fay, that it is : but to fome other circumftances -, whereof I need only mention this one ; that the Latin tongue was completely formed and poliflied, 3 S 2 before 500 THE THEORY Part II. before any attempt was made to write philofophy in it. So that, when Cicero introduced the Greek learning, lie was obliged to com feveral words, which, notwithftanding his authority, never became current ; and often to exprefs the Greek idea by a Greek word, be- caufe he could not find a Latin one of the fame fignitication.. But, whatever we determhie in regard totheprefent queilion, this at lead muft be granted j that if, from its want of articles, the Latin tongue be lefs fimple, and fometimes lefs perfpicuous, than the Greek or Englilh, it is in general more concife than either. By the abfence of thefe little words, the more important parts of the expreffion are permitted to have a clofer coherence. And therefore, though the Latin may be lefs adapted to the abftrufer philofophy,. it is, however, as fufceptible, as even the Greek itfelf, of all tlie charms of poetical, hill orical, and oratorical compofition. The great excellence of the Greek is fimplicity ; and that power, which it poflefies unrivalled, of adapting itfelf fo eafily to every fubject, and every fcience. In Homer and Ifocrates, it may be thought more harmonious^ than any other language : but I can hardly admit, that in this refpect the Latin is inferiour, when mo- dulated by Cicero and Virgil. Its dual number, optative mood, middle verb, fecond aorill:, and fecond future, from which fome would fain perfuade themfelves that it derives part of it^ pre- eminence, I muft, till I fee them better exp/lained than they have hitherto been, confider as fuperfluities : which make it more dif- ficult, indeed, in the acquifition, and fomewhat more various in the found, but contribute nothing to its lignificancy. Its preter- perfe6V, aorift, and article, give it fome advantage over the Latin 5 but the Englilh, and other modern languages, have alfo an article, aorift, and preterperfe6f. In fa3l. Grammarians feem to me to fpeak r-flily, when they call every tongue barbarous, except the Greek and Roman. The language of fuch men as Milton, Addlfon, Boileau, Taflb, and Metaftafio, cannot be barbarous. Elfe how comes it, that the greateft mafters of ClafTick learning find it fo 4 difficult Ch.ip. IV, OF LANGUAGE. 501 difficult to do jiifticc to thofe authors by tranflation. IfDobfon's Paradlfus Am'ijj'as, the exaftefl: poetical vcrlion, perhaps, that ever was written *, docs not dcferve to be called barbiirous, T {houkl be glad to know, in what fcnfe of the word, or with what pro- priety, the original Paradife Lojl z^.w be fo called. — But Enc^I;(h is not To elegant as Latin and Greek. Be it {o. Yet, would it not be hard to call one a barbarian, merely becaufe one has not reached the fummit of politenefs ? Th° lefs elegant a language is in its fl:ru6lure, the more merit have they who write elegantly in .:. \i St. Paul's Cathedial were of Parian marble, inflead of Portland ftonc, its appearance might be more fplendid ; but the fid)lime ima- gination ot Sir Chriflopher Wren would not be more confpicuous. It was faid, tliat in Englifh the indefinite article is not prefixed" to nouns of the plural. It fliould have been added, that when an Englifh- plural noun is a CoHeffi've, that isj when by referring many, or more than one, to a clafs, it beftovvs unity upon them, it may then affume the indefinite article. Thus we fay, not only a dozen, a /core, a hundred, but alfo «>, and olicy, it was fcarce poftible to throw off the yoke, or even at- tempt to regain their freedom. The truth is, that the vanquiflied foon came to incorporate with the viflors ; who Teemed, when they made their firft appearance in the fouthern parts of Europe, to found their political ideas on the natural equality of mankind. What pafles for the hiftory of thofe dark ages is in many par- ticulars little better than conjedlure. It is however certain, that the Feudal plan of fubordination became at length almoft univerfal in Europe. Thofe iflands and provinces, that had not been con- quered, or invaded, by the northern warriors, found their accoimt in adopting it : partly, no doubt, from a defire to imitate the reft of 534 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. of the'^?;|'orld ; and partly toOj that they might, by eftabli(liu-.g the fatne military arrangements, acquire the fame military vigour, and be able to maintain independency in the midft of their warlike neighbours. The feudal fyflem, in its full extent, was not brought into England, till the Conqueft by William Duke of Normandy ; who imported it from his own country, where it had been long eftabliflied ; and introduced it into the fouthern part of this ifland, with the confent of the Great Council of the nation. At what time It came into Scotland, is not yet, fo far as I know, determined among antiquaries. But that it was adopted by the Scots, and maintained its influence longer in North, than in South, Britain, is well known. * Every human inftitution is liable to change. And no form of government has hitherto been devifed, that is not obnoxious to altera- tion from a thoufand caufes, which human laws cannot prevent, be- caufe himian wifdom cannot forefee. The Feudal fyftem foon be- came different from w^hat it had originally been. While people are in needy circumftances, they have not the fame views of things, which they afterwards come to have, when fettled in the fecure en- joyment of riches and honour. The feudal king or commander was at firft ele£live : and the fiefs granted by the fuperiour to his vailal were bat for life, or during pleaftire. But both the fovereign power, and the right of the feudatory, were in time made pej-petual in tlie fame family, aiid defcended from the father to tiie fon, or to the nearefl relation. The nobles grew proud and ambitious, in pro- portion as they became independent. In fome cafes, their fiefs were flill further fecured by Entails ; which put it in the power of their poft:erity to enlarge, but not diminifli the inheritance. Nay, at laft, the fon, whether worthy or unworthy, was allowed to poUcis thofe titles of honour, which the merit of his father had ob- tained from the fovereign : and thus the dignities, as well as lands, * See RoScrtfon's Hiftory of Scotland. Book i. 6 of ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. 535 of the feudal baron, became liercdltaiy. And, what is ftill more fuigular, though great abilitiLS arc rcquifite to qualify one for the great olliccs of Hate, and tliough nothing can be moic abfuid, than to bellow an office of difficuhy upon a pcilbn who is unfit for it; yet many of the feudal nobles, by foice of importunity, or as a reward for particular fervices, obtained tiie high privilege of having certain gicat and lucrative ports annexed to their refpeclive families. Tlicfc corruptions of the old feudal fyftem were gradually intro- duced, in confequence of the afpiring genius of the nobles, and want of power in the kings. The lands of the former were ho- noured with privileges,, that allowed an extenfive, and fomething even of royal, authority, to the proprietor. Before him, or judges appointed by him, all caufes,. civil or criminal, were tried, which concerned any of his vaflals : and if the vaflal of a baron was fum- inoned before any of the king's courts, the lord of tliat vaflal might refuie to give him ui), rcfeiving to himfelf the right of trying him ; and might even punirti his vadal,, if he fubmitted to any other juriidicVion,. than that of his immediate fuperiour. Thus, it iseafy to fee, that tb.e influence of the crown would be very weak, except within the king's own territory : and that conteflrs would take place between him and his nobles^ wherein the latter might have the advantage. And hence, a wealthy baron, who had a great number of dependants, might vie, in the fplendour of his economy, even with the ibvereign himfelf,, and learn to fet him, and his power, at defiance : whence would arife infolent demands from the nobles, and mean-fpirited conceflions on the part of the kin"-. In fad, the hiftory of modern Europe contains., for feveral ages, little more, than a detail of difTentions between the kings and their nobility. For, in procefs of time, the power of the feudal barons, increaled by legacies, lucrative marriages, and imprudent conceit fions from the crown, became oifenfive, and even intolerable, to- tliejir.- 536 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. their fovereigns : who were thus obliged, in felf-defence, to devife expedients for checking that ambition, which gave them fo much uneafmefs. Some think, that the Crufades took their rife from this principle. The Crufades were military expeditions into Paleftine, under- taken by the Chriftian princes of Europe, with a view to extermi- nate, as they pretended, from the Holy Land, thofe Turks and Saracens, who were then in pollefllon of it. For they gave out, that it was a reproach to Chriftendom, to permit infidels to live and reign in a country, which in antient times belonged to the pofterity of Abraham, and had been honoured with the prefence of our Saviour, while he fojourned among men. Thefe warlike enterprifes, warranted and encouraged by the Pope, were well fuited to the enthufiaftick valour of the feudal times, as well as to the religious opinions that prevailed while popery and ignorance were univerfal in the weftern world. The nobility and people, therefore, engaged in them with eagernefs. They believed, that they fliould perform an acceptable fervice to God, by deftroying, or at leaft by conquering, the enemies of the Chriftian faith ; and that the reward of their labour would be military renown in this life, and a crown of glory in the next. The pope claimed, and was allowed to have, power to remit the fins of the whole world : and a general remiflion of fin, together with many advantages of a fecular nature *, was offered to all who would enlift in thofe armaments. But whatever the opinions might be of thofe who were to ferve in the holy wars, as they were called, we may, without breach of charity, conclude, that the princes, who planned them, were a6lu- ated no lefs by political, than by religious motives. They found their nobility turbulent at home ; and were happy to engage them in foreign expeditions, from which it was probable, that the greater pait would never return. — The expedition was called a crufade, or • Sec Robertfon's Hiftory of Charles V. vol. i. page 240. 5 croifade. ON FABLE AND ROMANCE:. 55; croKatle, from a Latin, or from a French, word fignifying a crofs; which has in every age been an emblem of Chridianity, and whicK thefe adventurers, as the champions of the faith, bore in their ftandard, and imprellcd upon their armour. The iionours acquired by the heroes of the Crufade were not inconfulerable ; though attended with great expence, both of trca- fure, and of blood. They conquered Paleftine, and drove the Saracens out of it: and Godfrey of Cologne, or Bouillon, was actually crowned king of Jerufalem, about the year eleven hun- dred. Thofe, who had diftinguifhed themfelves in thefe war^, ex- preHed their atchievements by fome emblematical device, engraven, or painted, on their fliield: and this is faid to have been the origin of Armorial Enfigns ; which, though they may now be purchafed with money, were antiently attainable by valour only. For the defenfive armour then in ufe was of a particular kind, and ouite different from that of the Greeks and Romans. The Feudal baron cafed his whole body in fteel or brafs : and the helmet was fo con- trived, as to cover upon occafion every part of his face, exxept the eyes ; fo tiiat in the field he could not be known, but by the figures on his target, or by the make or colour of his arms. And by thefe the warriors of tliat time were often diftinguifiied. Ed- ward the Black Prince, a name famous in the Englidi hifloiy, was fo called from the colour of his armour, which is ftill prell-rved in the Tower of London. 1 faid, that the figures, which the Crufader difplaycd on iiis fliield, were the origin of enfigns armorial. And this is the opinion of many authors : but it can be true of fuch figures only, as were according to the fyftem of modern heraldry. For devices on fhields are more antient : witnefs the fliield of Hercules by Hcfiod ; that of Acliilles by Homer -, and thofe of the fevc?: chlcfi at 'Thebes par- ticularly dcfcribed by Efchylus. Some fancy, that they are of ill 11 higher antiquity, and were known to Noah, Abraham, and Jacob; % Z and 538 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. and that the twelve tribes of Ifrael were diftinguiflied by their re- fpe6tive enfigns. But this is foreign from the prefent purpofe. That fpirit of valour and religion, and that paflion for travelling and ftrange adventures, to which the crufades were fo f;rvourable, gave rife to Cliivalry ; which now began to appear in the world, and in time produced very important confequences, in politicks, in manners, and in literature. I am not ignorant, that fome authors aflign it an earlier date ; and are rather inclined to derive the cru- fades from chivalry, than chivalry from the crufades. The difpute is not very material. Certain it is, that Chivalry was firfl: known about t;he time of the crufades -, and that the romantick enthufiafm, wild fancy, and defperate valour, which charaderifed tha knights who profeffed it, were much inflamed, and, partly produced, by the reports then circulating through a credulous world, concerning the adventures that were believed to have befallen the heroes of the holy war. The word chhalry is deiived from the French chevalier ; which, like the Latin eques, properly fignifies a man who ferves in war on horfeback. As the poorer fort ferved on foot, Eqties in Latin, and Chevalier in French, became titles of honour, correfponding nearly, but not perfe6lly, with the Englifli term knight. Chivalry v;as a military profeffion. The man, who wiflied to. be diftinguiflied in this way, drefled himfelf in a fait of the armour of that time ; and, girding on a fword, and grafping- a fpear, mounted his horfe, and fct out on fome Vviarlike enterpiife. He could not, however, be confidered as a complete cava! ;cr, till he had received the honour of knighthood. This none can now con- fer, but a fovereign prince; but any man, who was himfelf a knight, could then confer it ; and a fovereign would condefcend to accept of it from the hands of a fubjeft. The perfon, \^'ho was inverted with this honour, received it on his knees ; and many ceremonies, both warlike and religious, Avere performed on the J occafion. OiN FABLE AND ROMANCE. 539 occafion. — There are fevcral things remarkable in the character of the knights of chivalry ; which may be partly accounted for, iVom tli'j preceding obfervations. I. The hrft is, their Religious chara6^er. The authority of the church of Rome was then unbounded and univerfal in Europe ; and the wars undertaken to refcue the holy land infufed a religious enthufnfm into all who took part in thofe expeditions, tl^.at is, into every European, who afpired to military fame. Hence piety, as well as valour, was confidercd as indifpenfably requifice to form a gallant foldier. Some parts, too, of Europe, particularly Spain, had fuffered from theinvafion of Saracens and other infidel nations, who by their cruelty had rendered themfelves, and their religion, objefls of horror to all Chriflendom. When a knight, made cap- tive by thofe unbelievers, was prevailed on, by threats, punifli- ment, or exhortation, to abandon the true faith, he was branded among Chriftians with the name of a Recreant, that is, of an Apoftate Knight : a term of the bittereft reproach. For every kniglit, at his inftallation, fwore to maintain the Catholick faith, in oppofition to every danger. And therefore this term implied, in the language of Chivalry, nothing lefs, than an impious, per- jiu"ed, and profligate coward. * 2. The fecond thing remarkable in the fons of chivalry, is their valour ; and, I may add, their love of fighting. This they might have derived, as we have fcen, from their Gothick progenitors ; raid this every feudal inllitution tended to encourage. This, by their expeditions againft the infidels, was raifed to a pitch of extra- vagance bordering on phrenfy ; and was further cherifhed by thofe private broils, wherein the feudal nobility were, fiom the nature of the government, and the ineffectual authority of the law, almoft continually engaged. The very fports of tliofe warlike barons were attended with bloodlhed : for then, on folemn fcflivals, and when * H'.ird's Letters oti Chivalry and Romar^c, 3 Z 2 people 540 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. people met together to be merry, tilts and tournaments, and otiier foi ms of finglc combat, were exhibited, for the entertainment of kings, and lords, and even of ladies. -}- And thefe encounters were by no means mock- battles. The knights, fixing their lances, with the points advanced, made their hoiles run violently toge- ther ; and both knight and horfe were often overturned by the ihock, and fometimes killed. If they furvived the firrt aflault, which was generally the cafe, they attacked each other with their fwords, till one of them fell, or owned himfelf vanquiflied, or till they were parted by the officer, who prefided at the ceremony. Audemar de Valentia, earl of Pembroke, was killed in one of thofe encounters, on the very day of his marriage. The moile of fighting at that time, as well as in antient Greece and Italy, had, no doubt, fome influence upon the valour of the combatants, or made them at leafb more eager to difplay it, Witii us, by means of fire-ai-ms, the weakeft man is a match for the flrongeft : and all that o«r foldiers have to do, is to fhow their contempt of dan- ger, prefence of mind, and regard to difcipline. But, before the invention of gunpowder, a warrior, who flev/ his enemy, gave proof, not of valour only, but alfo of llrength, and of addrefs in the ufe of his weapons. 3. Their pafTion for llrange adventures is another trait in the charafter of the knights of cliivalry. The world was then little "t" Tilts and tournaments, however, ought not to be looked upon, as unnatural expedients of a barbarous and bloody policy. In their firft inflitution, they were not only rational, but wife : " becaufe of fingular ufe to inflrudl the nobility and gentry, " who formed the cavalry of thofe days, in the dextrous management of their horfes " and arms." So fays the great hiftorian, upon the authority of writers who lived in the age of tournaments. And he fubjoins the following pertinent remark. "Indeed,. *' all nations, defirous to excel in war, have endeavoured to render their publick diver- *'. fions conducive to that purpofe," (that is, to military difciplinej ; " a policy, which ". feems to be too much forgotten at this time, in this kingdom." Lonl Lyttdtoii'i hlotci on the fifth book of his Hijhry of the age of Henry the Second. That fingle combat ■was an amufcment of heroes in the days of Homer, we learn from tiie funeral games in honour of ratrotlus. known,, O'N FABLE AN D ROMAN C E. 54 1 known, and men (as I obfcivcd before) wcic ij^norant and credu- lous. Strange fights were expeflcd in ftrange countiies ; dragoris to be deftroyed, giants to be humbled, and enchanted cables to be overtlirown. The caverns of tlie mountain were believed to be inhabited by magicians ; and the depth of the forefl: gave fhclter to the holy hermit, who, as the reward of his piety, was fuppofed to have the gift of working miracles. The demon yelled in the florm, the fpectre walked in darknefs, and even the rufliing of water in the night was miftaken for the voice of a goblin. The caftlcs of the greater barons, reared in a rude but grand flylc of architedure j full of dark and winding pafTiges, of fecrct apartments, of long uninhabited galleries, and of chambers fuppofed to be haunted with f})ints ; and undermined by fubtcrraneous labyrinths as places of retreat in extreme danger ; the howling of winds through the crevices of old v/alls, and other dreary vacuities ; the grating of heavy doors on rufty hinges of iron j the flirieking of bats, and the fcreaming of owls, and other creatures, that refort to defolate or half- inhabited buildings : — thefe, and the like circumfcances, in the domeftick life of the people I fpeak of, would multiply their fuperftitions, and increafe their credulity; and, among warriors, vdio fet all danger at defiance, would encourage a pafiion for wild adventure, and difficult enterprife. Confider, too, the political circumflances of the feudal barons* They lived apart, in their refpedive territories, where their power was like that of petty kings ; and in their own fortified caftles, where they kept a train of valiant friends and followers : and, in the economy and fplendor of their houfehold, they imitated royal magnificence. An offender, who had m.ade his efcape, either from the publick juflke of his country, or from the vengeance of fome- angry chief, was fure of a place of refuge, if lie could find ad- mittance into the caftle of any other lord. Hence publick juftice >^:as eluded, and the authority of the law defpifed : and a wicked 6 andi 542 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. and powerful baron, fecure within his own caftle, would even defy the power of tlie fovereign himfelf, or perhaps with hoftile inten- tion meet him in the field, at the head of an army of determined followers. William earl of Douglas was generally attended, on folemn occafions, by a body of two thoufand horfe. Such a man it might be unfafe, even for a king, to provoke. As late as the reign of Mary queen of Scots, we I'ead of a court of law held near the border of England ; and are told, that the inhabitants of eleven counties were fummoned by royal proclamation, to defend the per- fons of the judges, and enforce their decrees. * Hence a conjedlure may be formed of the diftra6led ftate of thofe feudal governments, in which the nobility had acquired great power, and high privileges. The moft daring enormities were daily com- mitted, to gratify the refentment, or the rapacity, of thofe chief- tains : caftles were invaded, and plundered, and burned : depre- dations by the vaiTals of one lord were made upon the grounds and cattle of another ; and horrid murders and other cruelties perpe- trated. Rich heirefles, and women of diftinguiflied beauty, were often feized upon, and compelled to marry the raviflier. Royalty itfelf was not fecure from thefe outrages. When Eleanor queen of France was divorced from her hulband Louis Vil, flie was, in her journey to her own hereditary dominions, waylaid by three princes, _ at three different places, each of whom intended to force her to marry him : but flie efcaped them all ; and afterwards gave her hand to Henry the Second, king of England -|-. Nay, in thofe days, there were outlaws and robbers, who, poflefling themfclves of mountains and forefts, got together a little army of followers, and lived by rapine ; while the power of the kingdom was employed in vain todiflodge, and bring them to juflice. Such, in England, were the famous Adam Bell, and Robin Hood, and others who are ftill celebrated in ballads : and, even in the memory of perfons now alive, * Robeitfon's Hiflory of Scotland. t Loid Lyttclton's Age of Henry II. there ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. 543 there were fomeofthc fanic profcfTion remaining in the liighlnnds of Scotland ; but tlie race at IriH: is liappily extinft. — In a word, the weftern world was in thofc fe'uial times full of extraordinary events, and ftrange vicifTitudes of foj-tune. And therefore we need not wonder, that a paffion for adventures and warlike enterprize flioukl have been univerfal among the knights of chivalry. 4. They were alfo diftinguifhed by a zeal for juftice : and, as the laws were fo ineffcdhial, proreded to take up arms in vindication of the rights of mankind ; to punilh the oppreilbi- ; to fet at libeity the captive ; to fuccour the diftrelled damfel ; and to rid the world of thofe falfe knights, who wandered about in armour, to accomplifli wicked purpofes. Thefe were noble d.figns; and, while fociety was fo infecui'e, and the law fo openly violated, mud have been attended witli good efte6ls. — If you aflc, how this heroick part of their cha- ra6ler is to be accounted for ; I anfwer, that they feem to have de- rived it, partly from their northern anceftors, who were lovers of liberty, and generous in their behaviour to the weaker fex; and partly from their attachment to the Chriftian religion, whereof they were the declared champions, and which, disfigured as it then was by fuperftition, would flill be a reilraint upon the pafllons of thofe who were willing to attend to its dictates. Befides, the diforders of the time were fo great, that fober- minded men, who were at all enlightened by knowledge, or capable of re- flexion, would fee, that fuch an inflitution might be beneficial, and was become almoft neceflary to the exiftence of fociety. At firft, perhaps, their vicv\s might reach no further, than to defend the perfons, and redrefs the grievances of their friends *. But the habit of doing this, and the honour .icquired by it, would deter- mine them to enlarge their plan, and form the generous refolution of patronifmg mankind, by going through the world, to fignalize their vaLur, in proteding the weak, and punifliing the haughty. * Kurd's. Letters on Chivalry and Romance. Their 544 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. Their courage, their pafTion for adventures, their defire of feeing what was wonderful in foreign parts, and thofe hopes of future happinefs which religion taught them to entertain, confpired with their military genius, and with their fenfe of the evils to which they faw their fellow-creatures expofed, to produce that extraordinary perfonage, a Knight Errant, or wandering knight : a charadel', which they who have read Don Quixote are apt to fmile when they hear mentioned ; but which, in its origin, was honourable to the warriors who bore it, and of no fmall advantage to the pubUck. 5. The fifth and lail chara6leriftick of chivalry, is the Courtefy^ of the knights who profefTed it. I remarked, that the founders of tlie feudal fyftem were diftinguiflied, among all the nations then known in Europe or Afia, by the peculiarity of their behaviour to their women ; whom they regarded and loved, as their friends, and faithful counfellors, and as inverted with fomething of a facred- characler. Accordingly we are told by fome authors, that in all their conquefts they were never guilty of violence, where the female fex was concerned. This delicacy they tranfmitted to their de- fcendants ; among the greater part of whom, whatever outrages might now and then be committed by individuals, it feems to have been a point of honour, to be generous and refpeftful in their atten- tions to women. This was at leaft an indifpenfable part of the duty of a knight errant. By the ftatutes of Chivalry, the love of God was the iirft virtue, and devotion to the ladies the fecond *. But that devotion had nothing licentious in it ; being delicate to a degree that bordered on extravagance, if not on impiety. For the true knio-ht did not expeft condefcenfion on the part of his miflrefs, till he had proved himfelf worthy of her, by deeds of arms, and per- formed many a61:s of heroifm as her champion and admirer. And, when he was going to attack his enemy, we are told it was cuftomary * Plurd's Letters. for ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. 545 for him, firfl:, to imploic the help of God, and then to invoke, or at leaft to mention, the name of his miftrcfs. The gallant behaviour of thefe knights may farther be accounted for, from that religious ardour, which prompted them to fignalizc themfelves as the champions of the faith, and to fulfil thofe duties of benevolence and kindncfs, which are no where fo earneftly re- commended as in the Gofpel, and which form the mofl: fubftantial, and indeed the only fubftantial, part of true politenefs. The domeftick life of the feudal baron mufl: alfo have had con- fiderable influence, in refining the manners of men and women m the higher ranks. He lived, as already obfcrved, in his caftle, with a numerous train of friends and vaflals, who formed a court, fimi- lar in its economy to that of the fovereign. Luxury was little known at that time, even in palaces. The kings of England liad their chambers littered with ruflies ; and their beds were laid on ftraw or hay. Every perfon of fafliion in a great family has now a feparate apartment; but then it was not fo. The hall of the caftle was a place of conftant and univerfal refort *. There appeared the' Baron himfelf, with his lady and children, and thofe noble guefts who might occafionally refide with him; there too were often feen his vaflals, ranked according to their dignity ; and there, in a lower fituation, the chief feivants of the family would fome- times aflbmble. Were fo many perfons of mean and of equal rank to meet together, every man would indulge his own humour, and politenefs would not be much minded. But the very great diveifity of ranks in a feudal caftle would introduce co\uteous belniviour; * " After having attended your Lady in the morning," fuys the Troubadour Ama- nieu des Efcas in liis ail\ ice to a Goitlnuo/miti, " you may walk in the great hall, and " falute with civility thofe who pafs there ; anfwering them in a courteous manner, " but without exceeding in talk. Be grave in your ftep, and modelt in your look." Mrs. Dcbpn's Hijhry of the Trciihadours, pag. 441. —In thofe days, the upper fervonts in great houfes were generally perfons of family. By the common people in Scotland they are rtill called, the gentlcivoman, and the gentleman. 4 A while 546 ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. v/hile the great found it their intcreft, to be affable ; and thofe o£^ the lower Tort, to be refpetlful. Think with what reverence the inferiour vaiTals would look up to the Baron, who had fo many men, and fo much wealth, at his command ; and who, within his- own jurifdiclion, could pardon, or put to death, and enjoyed many other privileges of royalty. The ladies of the family, confcious of their high rank, retrained by native modefty, cind intimidated by the prefence of their relations, would, in the midft of this great domeftick aflembly, maintain a referve, fufficient to difcourage all familiarity on. the part of the other fex. Ladies of lower rank, would imitate them : and thus it is reafonable to think, that there rauil have prevailed, and we have pofitive evidence, that there a6lually did prevail, among the women of fafhion in thofe days,. a dignity, and even a ftatelinefs, of manner, tending to infpire the. enamoured beholder with a paffion compounded of love and vene- ration. Hence the origin of Romantick Love: which, regarding, its objeft as fomething more than human, forms extravagant ideas of perfeflion and happinefs ; a paffion almoft peculiar to latter times 3 andwhich, in antient Greece and Rome, as well as in Afia,. where the fexes lived feparate, and where the condition of the fe- male was little better than fervitude, could have no place. For, if it be true, that a prudent referve commands, fome degree of reverence ; and that the beft of humankind have blemilhes, which at a diftance are not feen, and which when near cannot be con- cealed ; we need not v/onder at the effecls, faid to have been pro- duced, in courteous knights, by the fublime prudery of accom- pliOied ladies ; nor at the oppofite tendency of thofe modes of life, by which men are emboldened to confider women as a fort of pro- ])erty, and as rather under the ftandard of human excellence, than above it. Politenefs and courtefy take their rife among thofe who Hand in awe of one another. For thi^ reafon, Monarchy, where different 4 ranks ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. 547 ranks of men areeftabliflicd, has always been thought moie favour- able to elegant manners, tlian any of the rcpubhcan forms of go- vernment, in which all the citizens are fuppofed to be eqvnl, or nearly fo. In his own coiut, that is, in his caftle, the feudal baron was a monarch in miniature; and polite manners, like thofe tliat take place where kings have their refidcnce, would naturally be dif- fufed through his whole houfehold. You eafily know by one's be- haviour, whether one has been much in the company of one's fape- riours. A man of fpirit contra6ls no fervility from that circum- flance : but he acquires the habit of attendhig to the wants and wifhes of thofe with whom he converfcs, of complying with their innocent humours, of adapting himfelf to their views of things, and their peculiar ways of thinking; and he alfo acquires the habits of unafTuming fpeech, elegant phrafeology, and eafy motion. — It has been remarked by feveral writers, that the true Scotch higli- lander is diftinguiflied by a gentility of behaviour, which does not generally difplay itfelf in the lower I'anks of mankind. The facl, I believe, is true ; and maybe accounted for, if not from the feudal, at leaft from the patriarchal, policy of the people ; from the relation of clanfliip fubfifting between the lord and his vaiTal, which entitles the latter to the company of the former, and occafions a more familiar intercourfe, than is elfewhere met with, between the gen- try and the commonalty. — And therefore it is not furprifmg, that there fliould have been, notwithltanding the rudenefs of the times, fo much courtefy in the caftle of a feudal baron ; efpecially among thofe who appeared there in a military charai5ler, and ffcill more efpecially among the knights of chivalry. Befidcs, the chara6ler of a true knight was veiy delicate : and fingle combat was a thing fo familiar to him, and withal accounted lb honourable, that he never failed to refent in a hoftile manner any reproachful word that might be thrown out againft his virtue, particularly againft his faith, or his coiu'age. Hence reproachful 4 A 2 words 54S ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. words would in general be avoided j which would promote courtery, by refining converfation. And hence the origin of Duelling : a pradice, unknown to Greece and Rome -, which took its rife in the feudal times, and probably among the fons of chivalry; and which, though in many refpe6ls abfurd and wicked, is allowed to have promoted politenefs, by making men cautious of offending one another. The knight errant was the declared enemy of the apprefibr, the punifher of the injurious, and the patron of the weak. And as women were more expofed to injury, than men ; and as ladies of rank and merit were, for reafons already given, the objects of vene- ration to all men of breeding ; the true knight was ambitious, above all things, to appear the champion of the fair fex. To qua- lify himfelf for this honour, he was careful to acquire every accom- plilliment that could entitle him to their confidence ; he was cour- teous, gentle, temperate, and chafle. He bound himfelf, by folemn vows, to the performance of thofe virtues : fo that, while he a(5f ed with honour in his profeflion, a lady might commit herfelf to his care, without detriment to her chara6f er ; he being in regard to tliofc virtues as far above fufpicion, as a clergyman is now. And, that women of fafliion might confide in him with the more fecurity, he commonly attached himfelf to fome one lady, whom he declared to be the fole miftrefs of his affeftions, and to whom he fwore in- violable conftancy. Nothing is more ridiculous than Don Quixote's paflion for Dulcinea del Tobofo, as Cervantes has defcribed it: and yet, it was in fome fort neceffary for every knight errant to liave a nominal miflrcfs : becaufe, if he had not acknowleged any particular attachment, nor made any vows in confequence of it, his conduct, where women were concerned, might have been fufpedled ; which would alone have difqualified him for what he juflly thought the mod honourable duty annexed to his profeflion. In a word, the chaffity of a knight errant was to be no 8 lefs ON FABLE AND ROMANCE. 549 lefs unimpeachable, than the credit of a merchant now is, or the courage ot a foldier. I have endeavoured to trace out the diftinguifliing features of that extraordinary charadcr, a Knight Errant ; and to account for each of them, from tlie nature of the inftitution, and the manners of the times. The true Knight was rehgious, valiant, paflionately fond of ftrange adventures, a lover of juftice, a proteolygamy and adultery, could never take place, except among thofe, who have both an idea of marriage, and a refpeft for it. In fa£l, that perverfion of condu6l and principle, which bids defiance to every thing that is facred in the matrimonial contrail, and hardens the heart againft the endearments of natural affe6lion, is fcldom known either in favagc, or in common life ; but is more apt to take its rife among thofe of the higher ranks, whom luxury, inattention, and flattery have corrupted. If the example that is fet by fuch perfons were to be followed by the body of a people, friendOiip and love would be at an end; felf-intercft and fcnfuality would detach individuals from their country, and from one an- other ; every houfc would be divided againft itfclf, and every man tgainft his neighbour j the very idea of publick good v/ou!d be loft, becaufe a man would fee nothing in the world, but himfelf, that was worth contending for : and all the chanties of domeftick life, the great humanizers of the heart of man, and the pureft fources of fublunary joy, would be defpifed and forgotten. For fuppofe marriage aboliflied : or fuppofe, for it is the fame thing, that its laws are to be univerfally difregarded : is it not felf- evident, that the forming of families, and the attachments of con- fanguinity, together with all decency and order, would be aboliflied, or difregarded, at the fame time ? Nay, induftry would be abo- liflied too : for what is a greater, or more honourable, incitement to induftiy, than the defire of doing good to friends and kindred .? But, in the cafe fuppofed, there would be no fuch thing as kindred ; and the condition of mankind would refemble that of wild beafts : with this difference, however, that our genius for contrivance, our fenfibility, and our capacity of wickednefs, would render us a thou- fand times more wretched, and more deteftable. I have endeavoured to account for the general prevalence of the matrimonial union, by proving it to be the refult of human paflions 4 E 2 CO- 580 ON THE ATTACHMENTS co-operating with human reafon. It promotes the happinefs of the individual, by means the mod friendly to the focial and fympathe- tick nature of man. It muft, therefore, promote the pubHck weal j both becaufe the publick is made up of individuals ; and alfo, be- caufe, by this inftitution, the race of men is continued from age to age, in a way, not only confiftent with focial afFe6lion, decency, induftiy, and patriotifm, but tending in an eminent degree to en- coui'age all thefe virtues. Without it, a few gloomy and beaflly lavages might exift : but of all government and good order, and of every thing that is elegant, pi-aifevvorthy, or comfortable in life, it is to be confidered as the foundation. Will it be obje6led, that marriage may have been the caufe of mifery to fome individuals ? Granting that it has ; and that, when it was fo, the perfons concerned were never themfelves to blame, (which is granting more than any rational opponent would require) — this is only one evidence, of what is too plain to need any, that in the prefent world nothing can be completely good which is tainted with human imperfection. Medicine, philofophy, liberty, and religion, are good things : yet medicine has killed, as well as cured; and by philofophy men have been led into proje6ls that ended in ruin : free governments have fallen into anarchy, and moderate monarchies into defpotifm : religion itfelf may be loft in fuperftition, and uncharitablencfs and cruelty are the confequence. Nay, to come to more famihar inftances, the ax may wound the hand of the moft fkilful mechanick ; fliips guided by the beft pilot may be wrecked ; bodily exercife may produce fever, and bodily reft may bring on more fatal maladies ; tares fpring up with the corn J and men have been poifoned, while they thought only of allaying their hunger and thirft. But does it follow, that eating, and drinking, and agriculture, are pernicious ; that bodily exercife and bodily reft are both to be avoided ; that art, and fcience, and government, and religion, are detrimental to human happinefs ? 8 If O F K 1 N D R E D. 581 If nothing is valuable, but what has no mixture of evil, then there is nothing in this world of any value; and life itfclf, and all the comforts of life, arc infignificant things. Nor let it be fuppofcd, that I mean by thefe reafonings to in- Rnuate, that it is every man's duty to enter into this union. Ey evincing its importance to publick and private good, we do indeed prove, that every man ought to reverence the inftitution and its laws, and that it is the duty of all perfons in authority to give the greateft encouragement to it, and to difallow every pra6lice that tends to bring it into difre[)ute. But it cannot be the duty of any perfon to enter into this ftate, whofe circumftances or way of life would render it imprudent to do io ; or who is dil'qualified for it, either by want of inclination, or by fuch perverfitics of mind or infirmities of body, as might make it impolTible for him to be an agreeable aflbciate. In regard to a connedfion, whereon the hap- pinefs of life fo eflentially depends, we fliould be permitted to judge for ourfelves, and be determined by our own free-will. We have heard indeed of laws in fome countries, commanding all the citi- zens to marry ; but it feems to have been bad policy : for neither happinefs to the parties, nor good education to their children, could ever be expeded from forced alliances. In matters of this kind, it is better to allure, than to compel. And that might be done with good fuccefs, if licentious behaviour \^ere always tlie obje<5l: of legal animadverfion-, and always followed by fenftble in- convenience ; and if particular advantages were annexed'to tlie con- dition of thofe who had quitted the ftate of celibacy. In either of thefe refpefts, I cannot pay great compliments to the virtue, or to the wifdom, of latter times. Indeed, astothefirft, it may be faid, ^liii leges Jirw moribiis t What avail good laws, when the manners are evil ? And, as to the fecond, 1 know not, whether any mo- dern people have ever thought it worth their while to imitate thai- part of the Roman policy, which allotted certain privileges to the parent '582 ON THE ATTACHMENTS parent of three children, and determined, not by then' age, but by the number of their children, the precedency of confuls and fena- tors; or that fimilar inftitution of the Athenian commonwealth, vyhich required, that a citizen fliould, by being married, be fuppofed to have given fecurity for his good behaviour, before he could be honoured with the command of an army, or any other publick truft. While the manners of a people are tolerably purej while induftiy is encouraged, and no unreafonable taxes are laid upon the necefla- ries of life, matrimony is generally found to flouiifh, even though no peculiar advantages are annexed to it by the legiflature. For the motives to this union are both natural, and flrong. They may be reduced to the following, i. That inftimfl, which tends to the continuation of the fpecies; and which, being common to all ani- mals, has nothing in it characleriftical of human nature. 2. A pre- ference of one perfon to another, founded on a real or fancied fiiperiority in mind, or body, or both; which, as it implies compa- rifon, and a tafle for beauty, as well as the admiration of intelle6tual and moral excellence, mufl: be fuppofed to be peculiar to rational minds. The paflion, thus arifmg from the view of agreeable qua- lities in another, is commonly called Love. To the inftin6l formerly mentioned it imparts a delicacy, whereof inferior natures are not fufceptible j and from the fame inftin6l it derives a vivacity, whereby it is diftinguiflied from all the forms and degrees of friend fliip, that may take place between perfons of the fame fex. 3. Benevolence, Goodwill, or a defire to make the beloved perfon happy, is a third motive to this union. This may feem to be the fame with the Love juft now mentioned : but we muft diftinguifli them in fcience, be- caufe they are not always united in nature. When, for example, the parfion that fprings from diverfity of fex, and is refined and heightened by the admiration of agreeable qualities, aims at its own gratification, although with ruin to the admired objeft; or when, hy faccefs, it is transformed into indifference or hatred ^ fach a paf- lion. O F K 1 M D R E D. 587 fion, though it may be called Love, has finely nothing of goodwill in it: for if it partook of this affection, the ciicumftance alluded to, by blending it with gratitude, pity, and other tender emotions, would make it more benevolent, and more generous, than it was before. 4. Tiie love of offspring may be confidered as a fourth mo- tive : and a regard to one's own happinefs as a fifth. — All thefe principles of conduct are natural to man ; and, when united, form a paflion which does him honour, and feems to promife him happi- nefs. But if one or more of them be wanting, an alliance founded on the others will be more or lefs unnatural', according as the gene- rous and rational principles are lefs or more predominant. Now, thefe propenfities being natural to man, and tending to produce the relation we fpeak of, it follows, that this relation muft be natural to him j or, in other words, that Providence, in giving him thefc propenfities, intended, that he (hould form the connec- tion to which they lead. And for this, human beings are ftill fur- ther qualified, by the peculiar chara6lers of the two fexes. The one being of a more delicate make, and withal particularly inclined and adapted to what may be called the internal adminiftration of a family j and the other of a hardier frame, and more cnterprifing genius, and fit for defending a family from external injury : their refpeclive abilities form, when united, a complete fyftem of the powers effential to domeftick policy. There are many houfehold duties, for which nature has not qualified the man : and many offices, both domeftick and civil, whereof the woman is not capable. In a word, the two fexes are natural afibciates ; feminine weaknefs being compenfated by malculine ftrength, and what is harfh in the male charafler by the delicacy of the female : and, in general, the peculiar talents of the one fex being a fupplement to the peculiar imperfeftions of the other. — It is trae, we fometimes meet witli a womanilh man, and with a mannifii woman. But both are awk- ward to a degree that proves them to be unnatural : and the words, 4 whereby 584 ON THE ATTACHMENTS whereby we denote thofe chara6lers, are terms of fcorn and difllke. The name virago conveys the idea of a difagreeable woman ; and effeminate, applied to one of the other fex, denotes a contemptible man. — I might add, that the very drefs of the one does not become the other j and that nature has eftablifhed a great difference in their voices, that of a man being eight notes deeper or graver than .that of a woman. Cicero diftinguiflies feminine from manly beauty, calling the former 'vetmjias, and the latter dignitas : and indeed, at Rome, as the men were almofl: continually in the open air, andexpofed, with their heads uncovered, to the fun of a warm climate, their complexion, and caft of features, muft have differed very much from that of the women, who were for the mofl: part within doors *. And with us, and in eveiy other civilized country, many of thofe outward accomplifhments, that become a woman, would not be graceful in a man ; and thofe defedls that are pardon- able, and fometimes pleafmg, in the one, would in the other be intolerable. That vivacity, for example, which is not blamed in a man, might be impudence in a woman ; and that timidity, which detracts nothing from the female chara6ler, would make a man not only ridiculous, but infamous. I will not enlarge further on this topick. It is fufficiently mani- feft, that a man and a woman are different characters, and formed for different employments ; and are, each of them, when united, more complete animals, (if I may fo fpeak) and have the means of happinefs more in their power, than when feparate. Nothing more needs be faid to prove, that the matrimonial union is natural and beneficial. By this union, Providence feems to have intended the accom- pliHiment of thefe very important purpofes. Firfl, the Continu- ation of the human race in a way confiflent with virtue, decency, and good government. Secondly, the Training up of human * See Eflay on Imagination. Chap. II. Se6^, /6^ ;" defpifes their alarm as much as we do that of a threatening which only provokes our laughter : " and he fmelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the *' captains, and the fhouting." — Befides the grandeur of the animal, as here painted, the fublimity of the paffage is heightened exceed- ingly by the landfcape; which prefents to our view an army in order of battle, and makes us think we hear the crafliing of armour, and the fliouts of encountering multitudes. In defcribing what is great, poets often employ fonorous lan- guage. This is fuitable to the nature of human fpeech : for while we give utterance to that which elevates our imagination, we are apt to fpeak louder, and with greater folemnity, than at other times -f-. It muft not however be thought, that high-founding * words are eflential to the Sublime. Without a correfjDondent dig- nity of thought, or grandeur of images, a fonorous ftyle is ridicu- lous ; and puts one in mind of thofe perfons, who raife great expectation, and afTume a look of vafl importance, when they have * In a very ingenious criticifm on this paffige in the Guardian, thefe \vorcls are tlifferently underftood, t EiTay on Poetry and Mufick : ]aft chapter, either 630 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. either nothing at all to fay, or nothing that is worth notice. That ftyle is fublime, which makes us conceive a great obje61:, or a great effort, in a lively manner j and this may be done, when the words are very plain and fimple. Nay, the plaineft and fimpleft %vords have fometimes a happy effe61: in fetting off what is intrinfi- cally great ; as an a61:of vafl bodily ftrength is the more aftonifliing, when performed by a flight effjrt. This fort of fublimity we have in perfection in many of thole paffages of Holy Writ, that defcribe the operation of Omnipotence : as, " God laid. Let there be light, " and there was light: — He fpoke, and it was done j he com- " manded, and it flood faff: — Thou openeft thy hand, they are " filled with good ; thou hidefl thy face, and they are troubled." It was obferved, that the defcription of the horfe in Job derives not a little of its dignity from thofe words, that properly fignify human fentiments, and cannot be applied to an irrational animal, unlefs with a figurative meaning : " hzrejoicethmhisjlrength; \\q mocketh ai -" fear; he believeth not that it is the found of the trumpet; ht faith " among the trumpets, ha, ha." It may now be remarked in general, that the fublime is often heightened, when, by means of figurative language, the qualities of a fuperiour natureare judicioufly applied to what is inferiour. Hence we fee in poetry, and in more familiar language, the paffions and feelings of rationality afcribed to that which is without reafon, and without life, or even to abftra6l ideas. — On Adam's eating the forbidden fruit, Earth trembled from her entrails, as again In pangs, and Nature gave a fecond groan ; Sky lower'd, and, muttering thunder, fome fad drops Wept, at compleating of the mortal fin Original. Who is not fenfible of the greatnefs of the thought conveyed in thefe words ; which reprefent the earth and heaven affefled with horror at the fin then committed, and nature, or the univerfe, ut- tering X ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 631 tering in low thunder a groan of anguifli ? Had the poet fim[)]y fdid, that there was an earthquake, that tlie Iky grewdaik, and that ibme drops of rahi fell, the account would no doubt have been fublimc, as he would have given it. But is it not much more fo, when we are informed, that this convulfion of nature was the effect of a foit of fenfation diffufed at that inPcant through the whole in- animate world ? How dreadful muft be the enormity of that guilt, which could produce an event fo great, and witlial {o preternatural ! Here are two fources of the fublime : the prodigy ftrikes with hor- ror ; the vaftnefs of the idea overwhelms with aftonilhment. In this place an unlkiliul poet would probably have brought on fuch a ftorm of thunder and lightning, and fo violent an earth- quake, as muft have overturned the mountains, and fet the woods on fire. But Milton, witli better judgment, makes the alarm of that deep and awful kind, which cannot exprefs itfelf in any other way, than by an inward and univerfal trembling : a fenfation more affe6ling to the fancy, than thofe paffions are, which vent them- felves in outrageous behaviour; even as that forrovv is the mofl pathetick, which depiives one of the power of lamentation, and difcovers itfelf only by fainting and groans. Befides, if this con- vulfion of theuniverfe had been more violent, the unhappy offenders muft have been confounded and terrified; which would not have: fuited the poet's purpofe. For he tells us, and indeed the circum- ftances that follow in the nanative (which, by the by, arc excjui- fitely contrived) do all luppofe, that our firft parents were fo intent on gratifying their impious appetite, that they took no notice of the- prodigies, which accompanied the traiiLfgreflion. Writers of weak judgment, when they attempt the fublime, are apt to exaggerate defcription, till they make it ridiculous. And to Mihon's prudent reftrve on this occafion I cannot quote a better contraft, than that paffage in Ovid, where the Earth, as a perfon, lifts up her head, and, holding her hand before her face, complains 8 to 632 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. to Jupiter, in a voice almofi: inarticulate with thirfV, of the tor- ments (lie was fuffering from the conflagration brought upon her by the rallmefs of Phaeton ; and, at the end of her fpeech, half-fuffo- cated with fire and fmoke, draws back her head into the centre of her body. This is mere burlefque. Our fancy cannot be reconciled to fo extravagant a fiftion, nor conceive the earth to be an animal of fo hideous and fo ridiculous a form. But no art is necefiary to reconcile us to the idea of the earth trembling with preternatural horror at fuch a lamentable cataftrophe as the fall of Adam and Eve ; the firft crime by which the fublunary creation was polluted ; and a crime, that Broudit death into the world, and all our woe. In the poetical parts of Scripture, animation and fentiment are often, with the happieft effeft, applied to things inanimate. " Let *' the floods clap their hands, and let the hills rejoice together " before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth. — Canfl " thou fend lightnings, that they may go, and fay unto thee, *' Here we are.? — God fendeth forth light, and it goeth ; he " calleth it again, and it obeyeth with fear." — Thefe and the like figures convey a lively and lofty idea of Divine Power, to which the inanimate parts of nature are as obfequious, as if they had intelligence and activity. A common fentiment may be made fublime, when it is illuftrated by an allufion to a grand obje6l. " There is not, fays Addifon, a '' fight in nature fo mortifying, as that of a diftra6led perfon, " when his imagination is troubled, and his whole foul difordered «' and confufed." This is true j but there is nothing very ftriking in it. But when the author adds, " Babylon in ruins is not fo " melancholy a fpeftacle," he gives great dignity to the thought, by fttting before us one of the mofl hideous piftures of defolation that ever was feen by mortal eyes ; and at the fame time declaring, what is no more than the truth, that even this is not fo mournful g a fight ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 6:53 a fight as the other. — " The evils of life fecm more terrible wiicii " anticipated than they are found to be in reality," is no uncom- mon obfervation : but the fame elegant author imi)rovcs it into a fublime allegory, when he fays, " Tiie evils of this life appear, like " rocks and precipices, rugged and barren at a diftance; but, at " our nearer approach, we find little fruitful fpots and refrefiiing " fprings mixed with the hardincfs and deformities of nature." This happy illuftration pleafes, not only by giving perfpicuity to the thought, but alfo by fuggefting the magnificent idea of a ridge of rocky precipices, as they appear at a diftance to the traveller, and as he finds them to be on coming up to them. And it pleafes yet further, when we compare the obje6l alluded to with the idea fig- nified, and find fo perfeift a coincidence. Things, as well as fentiments, may be made fublime by the fame artifice. Bees are animals of wonderful fagacity, but of too dimi- nutive a form to captivate our imagination. But Virgil defcribes their economy with fo many fine allufions to the more elevated parts of nature, as raife our aftonifliment, both at the ikill of the poet, and at the genius of his favourite infe6l ; whofe little fize becomes matter of admiration, when we confider thofe noble in- ftincls v^herewith the Creatour has endowed it. It may feem ftrange, and yet it is true, that the fublime is fome- times attained by a total want of expreflion : and this may happen, when by filence, or by hiding the face, we are made to underftand, that there is in the mind fomething too great for utterance. In a pitlure reprelenting the facrifice of Iphigenia, a Grecian painter * di (played varieties of forrow in the faces of the other perfons pre- fent ; but, defpairing to give any adequate exprefilon to the coun- tenance of her father Agamemnon, he made him cover it with his hands : an idea much admired by the antient artifts, and often » Timanthcs. See Plin, Hill. Nat. xxxv. 36. Val. Mzx. viii. 11. Qiiintil. ii. 14. 4 M imitated 63+ ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. imitated by the modern ; as what was likely to raife in the fpe6la- tor a more exquifite horror, than any pofitive expreflion that could have been given to the face of the parent. Indeed, on fuch an occafion, it would be natural for a father to hide his face, as unable to endure fo dreadful a fight ; fo that this contrivance was not only the moft affe6ling to the beholder, but alfo the moft proper in itfelf. When Ulyfles, in Homer, pays his compliments to the Grecian gholls whom he had called up by incantation, we are told that, on feeing their old acquaintance and fellow -foldier, they all converfed with him, Ajax only excepted ; who, flill refenting the affront he had received at Troy, when Ulyffes in oppofition to his claim obtained the arms of Achilles, flood aloof, difdaining to take no- tice of his rival, or to return any anfwer to his kind expollulations. It is certain, that no lefs a perfon than Virgil admired this incident; for he copies it in his account of the infernal world : where Eneas, meeting Dido, endeavours to excufe his defertion of her, urging his unwiUingnefs, and the command of Jupiter: but fhe, fays the poet, turned her eyes another way, and minded no more what he faid, than if flie had been flint or marble. This filence of Dido has been blamed by a very learned critick : who feems to think, that, though it was becoming in Ajax not to fpeak, becaufe he was a hero, it would be natural for an injured woman to upbraid a faithlefs lover with the keenell reproaches. But I take the remark, rather as a joke upon that volubility of tongue, which fatirifts have imputed to the female fex, than as a ferious criticifm. Dido, as defcribcd by Virgil, is a more dignified charafter, than Homer's Ajax ; and therefore, if the filence was majeflick in him, on account of his greatnefs of mind, it mull be equally fo in hei". If he, as a hero, was fuperiour to other men, fhe, as a heroine, was fuperiour to other women. Some ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIjMITY. 635 Some writers (and the fame thing is too often attcmplcfl in the pulpit) liave endeavoured to exprefs, by an elaborate foliloquy, what they fuppofe might pafs in the mind of Abraham, on being commanded to offer up his Son. This I cannot but think inju- dicious. It feems to detract not a little from the Father of the faithful, to reprefent him as deliberating whether or not he fliould obey God's command, or conjcfturing for what purpofe fo hard a tafk had been enjoined him. Let a man of fenfibility, after hear- ing one of thofe rhetorical flouriflies, read the narrative in the words of Mofes, and he will yi-c'/, how much more aft'ecling the one is in its fimple majcfly, than the other in its gaudy ornaments ; and what inexprelTible fublimity the character of the great Pa- triarch derives from his emphatick fdeiice and prompt obedience. He knew the command was divine, and confequently good ; and that, whatever his paternal emotions might be, his duty was, inftantly to obey. He therefore " rofe up early in the morning," and began that journey, which he then thought would have fo melancholy a termination. I may add, that there is fbmething almoft equally great in the fdent fubmiflion of Ifaac ; who, being at this time about thirty years of age, might have attempted refift- ance or efcape, if his faith and his piety had not been worthy the Son of fuch a Father. Things in themfelves great may become more or lefs fublinie, according to the nature of the allufions, whereby the defcription of them is illuftrated. Longinus, who feems to have thought not fo favourably of the Odyliey as it deferves, reprefents the genius of the author as in the decline when he wrote that poem ; but charac- terifes that decline by two noble fimilitudes , " In the Odyffey " (fays he) Homer may be likened to the fetting fun, whofe gran- ** deur ftill remains, though his beams have loft their meridian " heat.' What a beautiful idea! Does it not even adorn the object which it is intended in fomc degree to depreciate? And 4 M 2 a little 636 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. a little after he has this remark. " Like the ocean, whofe fliores, " when deferted by the tide, mark out the extent to which it fome- " times flows, fo Homer's genius, when ebbing into the fables of " the Odyfley, plainly difcovers, how vaft it once mult have been." To be extolled by ordinary writers is not fo flattering, as to be cen- fured by a critick like Longinus, wlio tempers his blame with fo- much politenefs and dignity. Indeed, it has been remarked of him, that he exemplifies every kind of good writing ; fo as in grandeur of thought, and beauty of expreflion, to vie with the author whom he celebrates. Inftances of ideas or images intrinfically great, rendered more fo by the allufions employed in defcribing them, are common in Ho- mer, Virgil, Milton, and all the fublime poets. So many exam- ples crowd on one's memory, that one knows not which to prefer. Achilles in arms is a grand idea: but Homer throws upon it addi- tional fplendor, when he compares him to the moon, to the blaze of a beacon feen at a diftance in a night of tempell, to a ftar or comet, and to the fun. Milton magnifies the ftrength and intre- pidity of Satan, when he fays, Satan alarm'd, Collecting all his might, dilated flrood Like Teneriff"or Atlas, unremoved; His fl;ature reach'd the Iky, and on his crefl: Sat horror. The fires lighted up in the Grecian camp, and fcattered over the plains of Troy, would be a beautiful appearance : but Homer makes it rife upon us in glory, by comparing them to the moon and liars illuminating the fky, when the clouds feparate, and the pure ether fliines forth in all the magnificence of midnight. But obferve, that great ideas are not always alluded to, in the defcription of great objects. For of two things, diftercnt in na- ture, ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 637 ture, that which is upon the whole infeiiour may pofFefs a quality or two in a more cxquifite degree, than tliat which is in all other rcfpecls more elevated. How fuperiour is a man, cfjjccially a wife man, and ftill more efpccially, the wifcft, and one of the greatefl: of men, to a vegetable! And yet wc are warranted, on the befl au- thority, to fay, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of the lilies of the field. We mufl: therefore, in all cafes, attend to that circumftance of likenefs, upon which an allufion is founded. Homer compares He6lor to a rock tumbling from the top of a mountain. Were we to hear nothing more of this fmnlitude, it might appear even ridiculous; for one might imagln.c it was intended to paint ihe par- ticular manner, in which that hero defcended from a high to a lower ground : and furely, a man rolling headlong, like a ftone, down a fteep place, is an image of neither dignity nor elegance; nor can it raile any perfon in our elleem, to fay of him that he is like a ftone. But when we learn, that the poet means by this com- parifon to inform us, that Heflor was irrefiftable while he advanced, and immoveable when he ftopt, we are ftruck with the propriety, and at the fame time with the greatnefs, of the allufion; for it heightens what we had before conceived of the warrior's impetuofity. If a huge fragment of a rock, torn from the top of a mountain by a winter torrent, were rolling and thundering down to the plain, 110 human power would be able to oppofe it; and when it ftopt, very great power would be necefiTary to move it. " I will make Babylon a pofieffion for the bittern, and pools of " water : and I will/t£;^^^ it with the bcfjm of deJlriiSlion." * The inftrument alluded to is one of the meaneft; and yet the idea con- veyed by the allufion is exceedingly great. For it is not the manner, but the confequences, of the deftruction, that are here painted: it will be fo complete, that not the leaft memorial of that city iliall * Ifaiah, chap. xiv. remain : 638 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. remain : even as on a floor that is fwept no trace is to be feen of the duft that was there formerly, or of the figures that might have been drawn in it. The allufion has alfo this emphatical meaning, that the people of Babylon are a nuifance, and that the earth will be purified by their being driven away; and it implies further, that all the efforts of human power are but duft, when the arm of ihc Almighty is lifted up againft them. ♦' Ruin fiercely drives Her plowfhare o'er creation," fays Young, fpeaking of the end of the world. The driving of a plow over a field is not a grand objeft. Yet the figure conveys a fublime idea to thofe who know, that fome antient nations, when they meant to dertroy a city, not only rafed the buildings, but plowed up the foundation ; to intimate, that it was never to be rebuilt any more. The poet's allegory, therefore, typifies a deftru6lion that is to be total, and final. — If I were to criticize it further, I would fay, that it is pity it fhould be above the apprehenfion of common readers : for the fublime is generally the w^orfe for being wrapt up in learn-- ing, or in any other difguife. What we do not clearly perceive we cannot rationally admire. It is true, that, where fublimity with horror is intended, a certain degree of darknefs may have a good etfeil: ; as unknown objeds, viewed thi'ough mift or in the twilight, appear of greater fize than the reality, and of more hide- ous proportion. But the example before us is rather ambiguous, than obfcure : the leaj-ned reader knows that it cor::prehends a grand allufion; but to the unlearned it may feem inadequate to the fub- je6l, by reafon of its meannefs. Out of many that occur I quote a few examples, to fliow, according to what has been already oblerved, that the fublime is not always accompanied with fonorous expreflion, or a pomp of images. Thefe, when too anxioufly fought after, or when they are not fupported with a correfpondent majefty of thought, are called Bombaft or Falfe Sublime; an unpardonable impropriety; which ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 639 which has in ferious writing as bad an effect, as ignorance united with impudence, or a folemn behaviour with a mean underflanding, would have in converfation. Moft people, who are in earnefl: in fvhat they fay, naturally elevate their voice and ftyle, when they fpeak of what is great; but, if they be of polite manners, that elevation is tempered with raodefty ; and they rather lay refli'aint on their feelings, than cxprefs them with the mofl emphatical utter- ance. Good writers, in like manner, rife in found and folemnity of phrafe, when their thoughts afpire to fublimity; but their ftyle is always fimjile, and their ornaments natural ; and they often throw out noble ideas in the plainell words, and without any orna- ment. Yet he, who aims at the fublime, muft not truft Co implicitly to the grandeur of his thoughts, as to be carelefs about his expreffion. Well chofen words, and an elegant arrangement of them, are juftly reckoned by Longinus among the fourccs of fublimity. Even when the thought is both good and great, the greatnefs, or the elegance, may be loft or lellened by an unlkilful writer: and tliatin feveral ways. Firft, by too minute dcfcription, and too many words. Foi", when we arc engrofied by admiration or aftoiiifliment, it is not natural for us to fpeak much, or attend to the more diminutive qualities of that which we contemplate. On feeing a lofty edifice, if the firft thing we did were to count the windows, or the pares of glafs in each, it would be a fign of bad tafte, and a proof, that we wanted either imagination to comprehend, or fenfioility to take pleafure in, the grandeur of the whole. Were a hero to appear in arm5 before us, we fliould not think of looking at his teeth, or ob- ferving whether his beard were clofe faaved, or his nails nicely cut} at firft, it is likely, that we fliould take notice of little befides his general appearance, and more ftriking features : or, if thofe other fmall matters were to engage our wliole attention, might it not 8 juftly 640 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. juftly be faid, that we had no true fenfe of the dignity of the perfon, nor any curiofity to know thofe particulars concerning him, which alone were worthy to be known ? Writers, th.erefore, who defcribe too nicely the minute parts of a grand objeft, muft both have dif- engaged their own minds, and muft alfo withdraw ours, from the admiration of what is fublime in it. A few examples will make this plain. Had Homer or had Milton been to defcribe the chariot of the Sun, he would probably have confined himfelf to its dazzling ap- pearance, or vaft magnitude, or fome of thofe other qualities of it, which at the firft glance might be fuppofed to fill the imagination, and raife the aftoniQiment, of the beholder. But when Ovid tells us, that the axle was of gold, the pole of gold, the outward circum- ference of the w^heels of gold, but that thfj fpokes were fiiver *, we are not aftoniflied at all ; and are apt to think, fi om the minutenefs of the account, that the author had examined this chariot, rathf^r with the curiofity of acoachmaker or filverfmith, than with the eye of a poet or painter. Such a detail refembles an inventory more than a defcription : as if it were material, in order to form a right idea of Phaeton's unlucky expedition, that we Ihould know the value of the chariot in which he rode. We read, in a certain author, of a giant, who in his wrath tore off the top of a promontory, and flung it at the enemy ; and fo huge was the mafs, that you might, fays he, have ktn goats browfing on it as it flew through the air. This is unnatural and ridiculous. A fpectator would have been too much confounded at the force, that could wield it, and at the aftonilhing appearance of fuch a ruin hurled through the fky, to attend to any circumftance fo minute as what is here fpecified. Befides, the motion of fuch a fragment muft have been too rapid, to allow the goats to keep their ground, * Aureus axis erat, temo aureus, auren fuinmn; Curvatura rotas, radiorum argenteus ordo. Metam. ii. 9 or ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 641 or to admit the poflibility of feeing them in the a6l of feeding. So that, whatever this idea may add to the magnitude, it murt: take away from the fwiftnefs ; and make the vafl: body feem to our imagination, as if it had loitered, or ftopt, in its courfe, to give the beholder time to examine its curiofities, and that the poor goats might be in no danger of lofuig their hold. In fublime defcription, though the circumftances that are fpeci- fied be few, yet, if they be well chofen and great, the reader's fancy will compleat the pifture : and often, as already hinted, the image will not be lefs aftonifliing, if in its general a])pcarance there be fomething indefinite. When He6lor forces the Greek intrench- ments, the poet defcribes him by feveral grand allufions, and by this in particular. Now rufhing in the furious chief appears. Gloomy as nigbt, and fliakes two fliining fpcars. * la what refpe6l he refembled night. Homer leaves to be determined by the reader's fancy. This conveys no pofitive idea; but wc are hence led to imagine, that there muft have been fomething pecu- liarly dark and dreadful in his look, as it appeared to the enemy : and thus we make the picture ftrongcr perhaps than it would have been, if the author had drawn it more minutely -f. A genius like Cowley * Pope's Homer. Book 12. near tiie end. f Speculative men often err, from an immoderate attachment to fome one principle ; of which, becaufe it holds in many cafes, they think it mufl hold in all. Gilbert, in the courfe of his obfervations on the magnet, grew fo fond of magnetifm, as to fancy, that the phenomena of the univerfc might be folved by it. And eleJlricity feems liov to have become almoll as great a favourite of many ingenious philofophers. Tliat poetical defcription ought to be diftincl and lively, and fucli as might both airft the fancy, and direil the hand, of the painter, is an acknowleged truth in criticifm. Thebeft poets are the moll piclurefque. Homer is in this refpeci io admirable, that he has been judly called the prince of painters, as well as of poets. And one caufe of tiie jnfipidity of the Henriade is, that its fcenery and images are defcribed in too general terms, and want thofe dillinguidling peculiarities that captivate th« fancy, and intercft the padions, 4 N But 642 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. Cowley would have interrupted the narrative, in order to enume- rate all thofe particulars in v.'hich Hedor refemblcd night ; com- paring his fliield to the full moon ; his eyes to ftars j the flafliing of his armour to comets and meteors; the dull tliat flew about him, to But nioiiUl every thing in poetry be pii^urefque? No. To the right imitatiori of nature fliade is neceflary, as well as light. We may be powerfully affedted' by that which is not viflble at all ; and of vifible tilings fomc cannot be, and many ought not to be, painted : and the mind. is often better pleafed with images of its own forming, or fiiiilhing, than with thofe that are fet before it complete in all tkek colours and pro- portions. From the pafiage referred to in the text, and froin many others tharmight be quoted, it appears tiiat in defcription Homer liimfelf is not always definite; and that h.e knows how to affccl his readers by leaving occafionally a part of his picture to be fuppHed by their imagination. Of Helen's perfon he gives no minute account : but, when he tells us, that her lovelinefs was fuch as to extort the admiration of the oUeft Trojan fenators, who had, and who owned they had, fo good reafon to diflike her, he gives a liigher itlca of the power of her charms, tlian could have been conveyed by any defcrip- tion of her eyes, mouth, (hape, and other dillinguilhing beauties. Algarotti is of opinion, that the poetry of the northern nations is, in general, left pidturefque than that of Italy. Virgil, fays he, gives fo exact a reprefcntation of Dido's drefs when fhe goes a hunting, that a painter might follow it in every particular. Tandem progreditur, magna flipante catcrva, Sidoniam pic51o chiamydem circumdata limbo; Cui pharetra ex auro, crines nodantur in aurum, Aurea pujpuream fubneclit fibula veftem. Whereas Milton defcribes the nuda bellczza of Eve by general terms and abflracl ideas, that prefent no image to the mind. Grace was in all her fteps, haven in her eye,. In every gefture dignity and love. Of this criticifm I would obferve, that the cenfure here pafTed on the poetry of t lie north, as compared with that of the modern Italians at lead, will hardly be admitted by thofe who underftand snd have read our great poets, Chaucer, Spenfer, Shakefpeare, and Thomfon ; from whom inftances without number might be brought of imagery as vivid and particular, as it is in the power of language to convey. Milton, where his fubjed requires that he (hould be exa^Iy defcriptive, as in his fourth, fcventh, ninth, and eleventh books, is in this refpedl not inferjour to Homer himfelf Indeed, when his fcene of aflion lies Beyond the vifjble diurnal fplere-y when,, with. a view to raife aftonilh- ment or horror, he paints what was never feen by mortal eye, it is impoffible for him to be Ariftly pifturefque. Figures fo deeply fliaded cannot prefent a definite outline: forms of fuch terrifick grandeur muft be to a certain degree inverted with darknefs. As ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY M3 to clouds and darkncfs ; the clangour of his weapons to the fcrcam of the owl ; the tenor he ftruck into the enemy, to the fear occa- fioned by apparitions ; with perhaps a great deal more to the fame purpofc : which would have taken off our attention from the hero, and fet us a wondering at the fingularity of the author's wit. It ought to be confidered, that the rapidity of He6lor's motion re- quires a correfpondent rapidity in the narrative, and leaves no time for long defcription ; and it may be fuppofcd, that the perfons who faw him would not fland gazing, and making fimilics, but would fly before him if they were Greeks, or rufh on along with him if they were his own people. When an author, in exhibiting what he thinks great, fays every thing that can be faid, he confounds his readers with the multitude of circumilances ; and, inftead of roufmg their imagination, leaves it As to the defcription objefled to by the critick : — I think it would not have been im- proved by being made more particular. Nor is the example at all parallel to tliat of Dido. The varieties of J/rfs are innumerable : and if the poet meant that we ftiould have a diftindl idea of Dido's attire, it was neceflary for him to defcribe it as minutely as he has done. But no minute defcription is neceflary to prefent the nuda bellezza of Eve to our imagination, or to improve the idea which in a cafu of this kind every ima- gination would form for itfelf. Algarotti has overlooked a very material circiiinftance; namely, that tliis account of Adam's firft interview with Eve is given by Adam himfelf to an angel ; who needed no information on tlie fubjefl of her beauty, bccaufc he had fcen her; and to whom it would have been highly indecent to particularize her bodily perfections. Adam, there- fore, is brief in this part of the narrative; and infinuates, that, at her firft appearance, his attention was chiefly engaged by the ddiiray and the dignity of her mirid, as they dif- played themfeUes externally in her looks and demeanour. In a word, the fanflity of the ftate of innocence, the purity of the loves of Paradife, the fublime characier of the fpeaker, the veneration due to the hearer, and that majefty of thought and of ftyle wlrich fo peculiarly charaflerifcs the divine poem, would all have been violated, if the poet's ideas had in this place been conformable to thofe of the Critick. Algarotti was probably thinking of the lufcious picElures of TafTo, and the fenfualities of Rinaldo and Armida: but Milton was converfing with Gods, breathing " empyreal air," and de- fcribing " immortal fruits of joy and love." I know not whether any part of the poem does more honour to his judgment. 4 N 2 in ^44 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. in a ftate of indolence, by giving it nothing to do ; making them at the fame time iiifpe^t, that, as he has but hw great ideas to o.®er, he is determined to make the moft of what he has. Befides, long details encumber the narrative, and lengthen the poem with- ©Rt necefTuy. Brief defcription, therefore, and concife expreflion, may be- confidered as effential to the fublime. And nowhere do they promote it fo effeflually, as in the poetical and hiftorical parts of Scripture ; which, howeA'er, more than any- other compoiitions, have had theij: grandeur impaired by the ver- bofity of paraphrafe. CaftaUo, in his Sacre J Diijiogues, is fo im- prudent in this refpeSf, that, if his character as a man of learning and piety were not thoroughly eftabhflied, we fnould be tempted to think he had meant to burlclque fome paflages of the Old Tefta- ment. He makes Abraham (for example), while preparing enter- tainment for the angels, buftle about with the oihcioufnefs and prattle of one of Fielding's landladies. Indeed thefe Dialogues are. fo frequently farcical, not to fay indecent, that I wonder the read- ing of them is not difcontinvied in our fchools. — I know it has been faid, in their behalf, that the language is good, being formed on the model of Terence. But what idea of propriety in writing can he have, who applies the ftyle of comedy to the illuftra- tion of Sacred Hiftory ? What would be thought of an Engliili divine, who fliould in his fermons imitate the phrafeology of Mer- cutio. Benedick, or Will Honeycomb } Nor is Caftalio corre6l, even in this fenfe of the word. He is often harfli : he admits modes of expreflion, that are not in Terence, or in any good writer ; and his defue of ditfufmg a claffical air through his work makes him give a new and ambiguous meaning to Roman words *, where, if he had adopted the common, and what may be called the technical, terms of Theology, he would have exprefled hirafelf more clearly, and without any real impropriety. * As when he ufes adventitm ior prof elyie, genius for ang(l, Vrjupiter for tJiabohis, &c. A Our ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. ^^r- Our poetical paraphraies. of the Pfatms are not Icfa Injwious to the oiiguial. Stci'iihold and Hopkins are coni'cflail'y bcneach Griticifm ; yet to thofe, who would ratbcr fee in the pulpit a threadbart: c^at than a laced one, are not ia theij- ruilick guile moie offenflve, than- Bi'adiy and Tate in their finical ornanients. It* we look into Bucha- nasm,. what can we fiiy, but that the learned author, with great command of Latin exprcflion, had no true relifli for the em]:hatick Goncifcnefs, and unadorned funplicity, of the infpired poets ? Ar- tliar Johnflon is not fo verbofe, and has of courfc more vigour : but his choice of a couplet, which keeps the reader always in mind of the puerile eplfUes of Ovid, was fmgularly injudicious. — As pfalms may, in profe,. as eafily, as in vcrfc, be adapted to muftck, why flaould we feek to- force thofe divine fli'ains into the raeafures of Roman, or of raodern,^ fong ? He who transformed Livy into, lambicks, and Viigil into monkifli rhime, did not in my opinion act moxe abfurdly. In facl, fcntiments of devotion are rather de- preffed than elevated by the arts of the Eui'opean verfifier. Secondly : Though an author's ideas be great, they may yet fall fliort of fublimity by excefiire amplification. Hyperbolical phrafes, for rea- fons afilgned in another place % are often natural, and may therefoi-e. promote the fubUme; but if they are not ufed with difcrction and a due regard to the proportions of nature, they become lidiculous. A tranflator of Virgil concludes that elegant defcription (in tha fecond Eneid) of the felling of a mountain-afli, with this enormous- exaggeration. The tree, he fays. Headlong with half the fliatterd mountain flies. And ftretch'd, out, huge in length, th' unmeafured ruin lies. Before we can admit this hyperbole to be in any degree tolerable, we muft fuppofe, either that the mountain was a hillock, or that- the tree muft have been at leaft a thoufand yards high and fifty in diameter. Virgil only fays, with his nfual propiiety 3 * Eflay on Poetry and Mufick. Part ii. chap. i. ftft. 3, — — traxitque 646 ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. traxitque jugls avolfa rulnam. And drags a ruin from the mountain's brow. When a certain poet fpeaks of one of his champions deftroying a troop of horfe with a fingle blow; and of another, whofe impetu- ofity was fuch, that he fought for a confiderable time after his head was cut off; he conveys to us the idea, not of flrength or courage in the warriours, but of folly in himfelf. To magnify in this man- ner is as eafy, as to multiply by a thoufand j which only requires, that three ciphers be fubjoined to the fam. At this rate, every child may be a fublime writer ; the only qualifications necefTary to con- trive fuch things being, ignorance of nature, and a total difregard both to probability and to pofTibility. But nothing is fubhme, that does not create in the mind a pleafmg aftonifhment ; and nothing can pleafe a rational being, but v/hat is confident with itfelf, and regulated by the ftandard of nature. When Cowley attempts to be great, he frequently becomes mon- ftrous *. A true poet exhibits the moft magnificent ideas without any apparent effort ; as if they were familiar to him, and fuch as he can mould and manage at his pleafure. The one labours in- effectually, and awkwardly, to do what is above his llrength ; and makes himfelf ridiculous, by flaowing at once his vanity, and his weaknefs : of the other, after he has, with eafe and with grace, performed the greateft exertions, we fay, that " half his flrength . " he put not forth." The former reminds one of Afteropeus in the Iliad, flraining with all his might, and diftorting his body in vain, to wrench the fpear of Achilles from the bank, into which, when fiung by the hero's arm, it had penetrated to the middle : the latter may be compared to Achilles himfelf, who laying his hand Mpon it draws it forth at once, -f- * See the Davideis pojfim^ particularly the account of Goliah. + Iliad xxi. 170. 200. Thirdly : I ILLUSTRATIONS ON SUBLIMITY. 647 Thii'dly : Mean words mid mean circumftances, introdaced in the delci'iption of what h great or elegant, will dcrt-roy the fiibli- mity, and dcbafc the beauty. The Duke of Buckingham, in fonic complimcntal vcrfcs addreHcd to Pope, has this couplet. And yet fo wonderful fublime a thing_ As the great Iliad fcarce could make me fing. The paffage is not much elevated, it Is true : yet who docs not fee, that the little dignity it has is debafed by the word (bi/ig ; which is chofea merely becaufc it happens to make a rhime ? " Homer's ** Iliad is a fublime thing'' — the phrafe would bedefpicable even in profe. Take an example of a mean circumftancc from Blackmore's Paraphrafe of Job : a. work in. which one may find fpccimens of every fort of bad writing. I folcmnly pronounce, that I believe My bleft Redeemer does for ever live. When future ages fliall their circuit end. And bankrupt Time fliall his lafl: minute fpend,. Then he from heaven in triumph fliall defcend. How groveling niufl: be the imagination of a writer, who, in me- ditating on a pafl^age fo fublime, and a fubjeft fo awful, can brino-, himfelf to think and fpeak of bankruptcy ! Such an iitiM»iJiiitin l^^^^^^l