Lectures on Language Part 9

ON VERBS.

Neuter and intransitive.--Agents.--Objects.--No actions as such can be known distinct from the agent.--Imaginary actions.--Actions known by their effects.--Examples.--Signs should guide to things signified.--Principles of action.--=Power=.--Animals.--Vegetables.

--Minerals.--All things act.--Magnetic needle.--=Cause=.--Explained.

--First Cause.--=Means=.--Ill.u.s.trated.--Sir I. Newton's example.-- These principles must be known.--=Relative= action.--Anecdote of Gallileo.

We resume the consideration of verbs. We closed our last lecture with the examination of _neuter verbs_, as they have been called. It appears to us that evidence strong enough to convince the most skeptical was adduced to prove that _sit_, _sleep_, _stand_ and _lie_, stand in the same relation to language as other verbs, that they do not, in any case, express neutrality, but frequently admit an objective word after them.

These are regarded as the most neutral of all the verbs except _to be_, which, by the way, expresses the highest degree of action, as we shall see when we come to inquire into its meaning.

Grammarians have long ago discovered the falsity of the books in the use of a large portion of verbs which have been called neuter. To obviate the difficulty, some of them have adopted the distinction of _Intransitive_ verbs, which express action, but terminate on no object; others still use the term _neuter_, but teach their scholars that when the _object_ is _expressed_, it is active. This distinction has only tended to perplex learners, while it afforded only a temporary expedient to teachers, by which to dodge the question at issue. So far as the action is concerned, which it is the business of the verb to express, what is the difference whether "I _run_, or _run_ myself?" "A man started in haste. He _ran_ so fast that he _ran himself_ to death." I strike Thomas, Thomas _strikes David_, Thomas _strikes himself_. Where is the difference in the action? What matters it whether the action pa.s.ses over to another object, or is confined within itself?

"But," says the objector, "you mistake. An intransitive verb is one where the 'effect is confined within the subject, and does not pa.s.s over to any object.'"

Very well, I think I understand the objection. When Thomas strikes David the effects of the blow _pa.s.ses over_ to him. And when he strikes himself, it "is confined within the subject," and hence the latter is an _intransitive_ verb.

"No, no; there is an object on which the action terminates, in that case, and so we must call it a _transitive_ verb."

Will you give me an example of an _intransitive_ verb?

"I _run_, he _walks_, birds _fly_, it _rains_, the fire _burns_. No objects are expressed after these words, so the action is confined within themselves."

I now get your meaning. When the object is _expressed_ the verb is transitive, when it is not it is intransitive. This distinction is generally observed in teaching, however widely it may differ from the intention of the makers of grammars. And hence children acquire the habit of limiting their inquiries to what they see placed before them by others, and do not think for themselves. When the verb has an objective word after it _expressed_, they are taught to attach action to it; but tho the action may be even greater, if the object is not expressed, they consider the action as widely different in its character, and adopt the false philosophy that a cause can exist without an effect resulting from it.

We a.s.sume this ground, and we shall labor to maintain it, that every verb necessarily presupposes an _agent_ or _actor_, an _action_, and an _object_ acted upon, or affected by the action.

No action, as such, can be known to exist separate from the thing that acts. We can conceive no idea of action, only by keeping our minds fixed on the acting substance, marking its changes, movements, and tendencies.

"The book _moves_." In this case the eye rests on the book, and observes its positions and att.i.tudes, alternating one way and the other. You can separate no action from the book, nor conceive any idea of it, as a separate ent.i.ty. Let the book be taken away. Where now is the action?

What can you think or say of it? There is the same s.p.a.ce just now occupied by the book, but no action is perceivable.

The boy _rolls_ his marble upon the floor. All his ideas of the action performed by it are derived from an observation of the marble. His eye follows it as it moves along the floor. He sees it in that acting condition. When he speaks of the action as a whole, he thinks where it started and where it stopped. It is of no importance, so far as the verb is concerned, whether the marble received an impulse from his hand, or whether the floor was sufficiently inclined to allow it to roll by its own inherent tendency. The action is, in this case, the obvious change of the marble.

Our whole knowledge of action depends on an observance of things in a state of motion, or change, or exerting a tendency to change, or to counteract an opposing substance.

This will be admitted so far as material things are concerned. The same principle holds good in reference to every thing of which we form ideas, or concerning which we use language. In our definition of nouns we spoke of immaterial and imaginary things to which we gave _names_ and which we consider as agencies capable of exerting an influence in the production of effects, or in resisting actions. It is therefore unimportant whether the action be real or imaginary. It is still inseparably connected with the thing that acts; and we employ it thus in the construction of language to express our thoughts. Thus, lions roar; birds sing; minds reflect; fairies dance; knowledge increases; fancies err; imagination wanders.

This fact should be borne in mind in all our attempts to understand or explain language. The mind should remain fixed to the acting substance, to observe its changes and relations at different periods, and in different circ.u.mstances. There is no other process by which any knowledge can be gained of actions. The mind contemplates the acting thing in a condition of change and determines the precise action by the _altered condition_ of the thing, and thus learns to judge of actions by their effects. The only method by which we can know whether a _vegetable grows_ or not is by comparing its form to-day with what it was some days ago. We can not decide on the improvement of our children only by observing the same rule.

"By their fruits ye shall know them," will apply in physics as well as in morals; for we judge of causes only by their effects. First principles can never be known. We observe things as they _are_, and remember how they _have been_; and from hence deduce our conclusions in reference to the _cause_ of things we do not fully understand, or those consequences which will follow a condition of things as now existing. It is the business of philosophy to mark these effects, and trace them back to the causes which produced them, by observing all the intermediate changes, forms, att.i.tudes, and conditions, in which such things have, at different times, been placed.

We say, "_trees grow_." But suppose no change had ever been observed in trees, that they had always been as they now are; in stature as lofty, in foliage as green and beautiful, in location unaltered. Who would then say, "trees grow?"

In this single expression a whole train of facts are taken into the account, tho not particularly marked. As a single expression we imply that _trees increase their stature_. But this we all know could never be effected without the influence of other causes. The soil where it stands must contain properties suited to the _growth_ of the tree. A due portion of moisture and heat are also requisite. These facts all exist, and are indispensable to make good the expression that the "tree grows."

We might also trace the capabilities of the tree itself, its roots, bark, veins or pores, fibres or grains, its succulent and absorbent powers. But, as in the case of the "man that killed the deer," noticed in a former lecture, the mind here conceives a single idea of a complete whole, which is signified by the single expression, "trees grow."

Let the following example serve in further ill.u.s.tration of this point.

Take two bricks, the one heated to a high temperature, the other cold.

Put them together, and in a short time you will find them of equal temperature. One has grown warm, the other cool. One has _imparted_ heat and _received_ cold, the other has _received_ heat and _imparted_ cold.

Yet all this would remain forever unknown, but for the effects which must appear obvious to all. From these effects the causes are to be learned.

It must, I think, appear plain to all who are willing to see, that action, as such, can never exist distinct from the thing that acts; that all our notions of action are derived from an observance of _things_ in an acting condition; and hence that no words can be framed to express our ideas of action on any other principle.

I hope you will bear these principles in mind. They are vastly important in the construction of language, as will appear when we come to speak of the _agents_ and _objects_ of action. We still adhere to the fact, that no rules of language can be successfully employed, which deviate from the permanent laws which operate in the regulation of matter and mind; a fact which can not be too deeply impressed on your minds.

In the consideration of actions as expressed by verbs, we must observe that _power_, _cause_, _means_, _agency_, and _effects_, are indispensable to their existence. Such principles exist _in fact_, and must be observed in obtaining a complete knowledge of language; for words, we have already seen, are the expression of ideas, and ideas are the impression of things.

In our attempts at improvement, we should strip away the covering, and come at the reality. Words should be measurably forgotten, while we search diligently for the things expressed by them. _Signs_ should always conduct to the things _signified_. The weary traveller, hungry and faint, would hardly satisfy himself with an examination of the _sign_ before the inn, marking its form, the picture upon it, the nice shades of coloring in the painting. He would go in, and search for the thing signified.

It has been the fault in teaching language, that learners have been limited to the mere _forms_ of words, while the important duty of teaching them to look at the thing signified, has been entirely disregarded. Hence they have only obtained book knowledge. They know what the grammars say; but how to _apply_ what they say, or what is in reality meant by it, they have yet to learn. This explains the reason why almost every man who has studied grammar will tell you that "he _used_ to understand it, but it has all gone from him, for he has not looked into a _book_ these many years." Has he lost a knowledge of language? Oh, no, he learned that before he saw a grammar, and will preserve it to the day of his death. What good did his two or three years study of grammar do him? None at all; he has forgotten all that he ever knew of it, and that is not much, for he only learned what some author said, and a few arbitrary rules and technical expressions which he could never understand nor apply in practice, except in special cases. But I wander. I throw in this remark to show you the necessity of bringing your minds to a close observance of things as they do in truth exist; and from them you can draw the principles of speech, and be able to use language correctly. For we still insist on our former opinion, that all language depends on the permanent laws of nature, as exerted in the regulation of matter and mind.

To return. I have said that all action denotes _power_, _cause_, _means_, _agency_, and _effects_.

_Power_ depends on _physical energy_, or _mental skill_. I have hinted at this fact before. Things act according to the power or energy they possess. Animals walk, birds fly, fishes swim, minerals sink, poisons kill. Or, according to the adopted theories of naturalists:

Minerals _grow_.

Vegetables _grow_ and _live_.

Animals _grow_, and _live_, and _feel_.

Every thing acts according to the ability it possesses. Man, possessed of reason, devises means and produces ends. Beasts change locations, devour vegetables, and sometimes other beasts. The lowest grade of animals never change location, but yet eat and live. Vegetables live and grow, but do not change location. They have the power to reproduce their species, and some of them to kill off surrounding objects. "The _carraguata_ of the West Indies, clings round," says Goldsmith, "whatever tree it happens to approach; there it quickly gains the ascendant, and, loading the tree with a verdure not its own, keeps away that nourishment designed to feed the trunk, and at last entirely destroys its supporter." In our country, many gardens and fields present convincing proof of the ability of weeds to kill out the vegetables designed to grow therein. You all have heard of the _Upas_, which has a power sufficient to destroy the lives of animals and vegetables for a large distance around. Its very exhalations are death to whatever approaches it. It serves in metaphor to ill.u.s.trate the noxious effects of all vice, of slander and deceit, the effects of which are to the moral const.i.tution, what the tree itself is to natural objects, blight and mildew upon whatever comes within its reach.

Minerals are possessed of _power_ no less astonishing, which may be observed whenever an opportunity is offered to call it forth. Active poisons, able to slay the most powerful men and beasts, lie hid within their bosoms. They have strong attractive and repelling powers. From the iron is made the strong cable which _holds_ the vessel fast in her moorings, _enabling_ it to outride the collected force of the winds and waves which _threaten_ its destruction. From it also are manufactured the manacles which bind the strong man, or fasten the lion in his cage.

Gold _possesses_ a power which _charms_ nearly all men to sacrifice their ease, and too many their moral principles, to pay their blind devotions at its shrine.

Who will contend that the power of action is confined to the animal creation alone, and that inanimate matter can not act? That there is a superior power possessed by man, endowed with an immaterial spirit in a corporeal body, none will deny. By the agency of the mind he can accomplish wonders, which mere physical power without the aid of such mental skill, could never perform. But with all his boasted superiority, he is often made the slave of inanimate things. His lofty powers of body and soul bend beneath the weight of acc.u.mulated sorrows, produced by the secret _operations_ of contagious disease, which _slays_ his wife, children, and friends, who fall like the ripened harvest before the gatherers scythe. Nay, he often submits to the controlling power of the vine, alcohol, or tobacco, which _gain_ a secret influence over his n.o.bler powers, and _fix_ on him the stamp of disgrace, and _throw_ around him fetters from which he finds it no easy matter to extricate himself. By the illusions of error and vice he is often betrayed, and long endures darkness and suffering, till he _regains_ his native energies, and finds deliverance in the enjoyment of truth and virtue.

What is that secret power which lies concealed beyond the reach of human ken, and is transported from land to land unknown, till exposed in conditions suited to its operation, will show its active and resistless force in the destruction of life, and the devastation of whole cities or nations? You may call it plague, or cholera, or small pox, miasma, contagion, particles of matter floating in the air surcharged with disease, or any thing else. It matters not what you call it. It is sufficient to our present purpose to know that it has the ability to put forth a prodigious power in the production of consequences, which the highest skill of man is yet unable to prevent.

I might pursue this point to an indefinite length, and trace the secret powers possessed by all created things, as exhibited in the influence they exert in various ways, both as regards themselves and surrounding objects. But you will at once perceive my object, and the truth of the positions I a.s.sume. A common power pervades all creation, operating by pure and perfect laws, regulated by the Great First Cause, the Moving Principle, which guides, governs, and controls the whole.[11]

Degrading indeed must be those sentiments which limit all action to the animal frame as an organized body, moved by a living principle. Ours is a sublimer duty; to trace the operations of the Divine Wisdom which acts thro out all creation, in the minutest particle of dust which _keeps_ its _position_ secure, till moved by some superior power; or in the _needle_ which points with unerring skill to its fixed point, and _guides_ the vessel, freighted with a hundred lives, safe thro the midnight storm, to its destined haven; tho rocked by the waves and driven by the winds, it remains uninfluenced, and tremblingly alive to the important duties entrusted to its charge, continues its faithful service, and is watched with the most implicit confidence by all on board, as the only guide to safety. The same Wisdom is displayed thro out all creation; in the beauty, order, and harmony of the universe; in the planets which float in the azure vault of heaven; in the glow worm that glitters in the dust; in the fish which cuts the liquid element; in the pearl which sparkles in the bottom of the ocean; in every thing that lives, moves, or has a being; but more distinctly in man, created in the moral image of his Maker, possessed of a heart to feel, and a mind to understand--the third in the rank of intelligent beings.

I cannot refuse to favor you with a quotation from that inimitable poem, Pope's Essay on Man. It is rife with sentiment of the purest and most exalted character. It is direct to our purpose. You may have heard it a thousand times; but I am confident you will be pleased to hear it again.

Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, Earth for whose use? Pride answers, "'Tis for mine: "For me kind nature wakes her genial pow'r, "Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flow'r; "Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew "The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; "For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; "For me health gushes from a thousand springs; "Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; "My footstool earth, my canopy the skies."

But errs not nature from this gracious end, From burning suns when livid deaths descend, When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep?

"_No_," ('tis replied,) "_the first Almighty Cause Acts not by partial, but by general laws; Th' exceptions few; some change since all began: And what created perfect?_" Why then man?

If the great end be human happiness, Then nature deviates--and can man do less?

As much that end a constant course requires Of show'rs and sunshine, as of man's desires; As much eternal springs and cloudless skies, As man forever temp'rate, calm, and wise.

If plagues or earthquakes break not heaven's design.

Why then a Borgia, or a Cataline?

Who knows but He whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms; Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind; Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?

From pride, from pride our very reas'ning springs; Account for moral as for nat'ral things: Why charge we heaven in those, in these acquit?

In both, to reason right, is to submit.