The Grammar of English Grammars Part 5

But what he meant by "_instrumenta rerum_" is not very apparent. Dr. Adam says, "The principles of grammar may be traced from the progress of the mind in the acquisition of language. Children first express their feelings by motions and gestures of the body, by cries and tears. _This is_[31] the language of nature, and therefore universal. _It fitly represents_[32] the quickness of sentiment and thought, which are as instantaneous as the impression of light on the eye. Hence we always express our stronger feelings by these natural signs. But when we want to make known to others the particular conceptions of the mind, we must represent them by parts, we must divide and a.n.a.lyze them. We express _each part by certain signs_,[33]

and join these together, according to the order of their relations. Thus words are _both the instrument and signs[34] the division_ of thought."--_Preface to Latin Gram._

7. The utterance of words, or the making of signs of any sort, requires time;[35] but it is here suggested by Dr. Adam, that sentiment and thought, though susceptible of being retained or recalled, naturally flash upon the mind with immeasurable quickness.[36] If so, they must originate in something more spiritual than language. The Doctor does not affirm that words are the instruments of thought, but of _the division_ of thought. But it is manifest, that if they effect this, they are not the only instruments by means of which the same thing may be done. The deaf and dumb, though uninstructed and utterly ignorant of language, can think; and can, by rude signs of their own inventing, manifest a similar division, corresponding to the individuality of things. And what else can be meant by "_the division of thought_," than our notion of objects, as existing severally, or as being distinguishable into parts? There can, I think, be no such division respecting that which is perfectly pure and indivisible in its essence; and, I would ask, is not simple continuity apt to exclude it from our conception of every thing which appears with uniform coherence? Dr. Beattie says, "It appears to me, that, as all things are individuals, all thoughts must be so too."--_Moral Science_, Chap, i, Sec. 1. If, then, our thoughts are thus divided, and consequently, as this author infers, have not in themselves any of that generality which belongs to the signification of common nouns, there is little need of any instrument to divide them further: the mind rather needs help, as Cardell suggests, "to combine its ideas." [37]

8. So far as language is a work of art, and not a thing conferred or imposed upon us by nature, there surely can be in it neither division nor union that was not first in the intellect for the manifestation of which it was formed. First, with respect to generalization. "The human mind," says Harris, "by an energy as spontaneous and familiar to its nature, as the seeing of colour is familiar to the eye, discerns at once what in many is one, what in things dissimilar and different is similar and the same."--_Hermes_, p. 362. Secondly, with respect to division. Mechanical separations are limited: "But the mind surmounts all power of concretion; and can place in the simplest manner every attribute by itself; convex without concave; colour without superficies; superficies without body; and body without its accidents: as distinctly each one, as though they had never been united. And thus it is, that it penetrates into the recesses of all things, not only dividing them as wholes, into their more conspicuous parts, but persisting till it even separate those elementary principles which, being blended together after a more mysterious manner, are united in the minutest part as much as in the mightiest whole."--_Harris's Hermes_, p. 307.

9. It is remarkable that this philosopher, who had so sublime conceptions of the powers of the human mind, and who has displayed such extraordinary acuteness in his investigations, has represented the formation of words, or the utterance of language, as equalling in speed the progress of our very thoughts; while, as we have seen, an other author, of great name, avers, that thought is "as instantaneous as the impression of light on the eye."

Philosophy here too evidently nods. In showing the advantage of words, as compared with pictures, Harris says, "If we consider the ease and speed with which words are formed,-an ease which knows no trouble or fatigue, and a _speed which equals the progress of our very thoughts_,[38]--we may plainly perceive an answer to the question here proposed, Why, in the common intercourse of men with men, imitations have been rejected, and symbols preferred."--_Hermes_, p. 336. Let us hear a third man, of equal note: "Words have been called _winged_; and they well deserve that name, when their abbreviations are compared with the progress which speech could make without these inventions; but, compared with the rapidity of thought, they have not _the smallest claim to that t.i.tle_. Philosophers have calculated the difference of velocity between sound and light; but who will attempt to calculate the difference between speech and thought!"--_Horne Tooke's Epea Pteroenta_, Vol. i, p. 23.

10. It is certain, that, in the admirable economy of the creation, natures subordinate are made, in a wonderful manner, subservient to the operations of the higher; and that, accordingly, our first ideas are such as are conceived of things external and sensible. Hence all men whose intellect appeals only to external sense, are p.r.o.ne to a philosophy which reverses the order of things pertaining to the mind, and tends to materialism, if not to atheism. "But"--to refer again to Harris--"the intellectual scheme which never forgets Deity, postpones every thing corporeal to the primary mental Cause. It is here it looks for the origin of intelligible ideas, even of those which exist in human capacities. For though sensible objects may be the destined medium to awaken the dormant energies of man's understanding, yet are those energies themselves no more contained, in sense, than the explosion of a cannon, in the spark which gave it fire. In short, all minds that are, are similar and congenial; and so too are their ideas, or intelligible forms. Were it otherwise, there could be no intercourse between man and man, or (what is more important) between man and G.o.d."--_Hermes_, p. 393.

11. A doctrine somewhat like this, is found in the Meditations of the emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, though apparently repugnant to the polytheism commonly admitted by the Stoics, to whom he belonged: "The world, take it all together, is but one; there is but one sort of matter to make it of, one G.o.d to govern it, and one law to guide it. For, run through the whole system of rational beings, and you will find reason and truth but single and the same. And thus beings of the same kind, and endued with the same reason, are made happy by the same exercises of it."--Book vii, Sec.

9. Again: "Let your soul receive the Deity as your blood does the air; for the influences of the one are no less vital, than those of the other. This correspondence is very practicable: for there is an ambient omnipresent Spirit, which lies as open and pervious to your mind, as the air you breathe does to your lungs: but then you must remember to be disposed to draw it."--Book viii, Sec. 54; _Collier's Translation_.

12. Agreeably to these views, except that he makes a distinction between a natural and a supernatural idea of G.o.d, we find Barclay, the early defender of the Quakers, in an argument with a certain Dutch n.o.bleman, philosophizing thus: "If the Scripture then be true, there is in men a supernatural idea of G.o.d, which altogether differs from this natural idea--I say, in all men; because all men are capable of salvation, and consequently of enjoying this divine vision. Now this capacity consisteth herein, that they have such a supernatural idea in themselves.[39] For if there were no such idea in them, it were impossible they should so know G.o.d; for whatsoever is clearly and distinctly known, is known by its proper idea; neither can it otherwise be clearly and distinctly known. _For the ideas of all things are divinely planted in our souls_; for, as the better philosophy teacheth, they are not begotten in us by outward objects or outward causes, but only are by these outward things excited or stirred up.

And this is true, not only in supernatural ideas of G.o.d and things divine, and in natural ideas of the natural principles of human understanding, and conclusions thence deduced by the strength of human reason; but even in the ideas of outward objects, which are perceived by the outward senses: as that n.o.ble Christian philosopher Boethius hath well observed; to which also the Cartesian philosophy agreeth." I quote only to show the concurrence of others, with Harris's position. Barclay carries on his argument with much more of a similar import. See _Sewell's History_, folio, p. 620.

13. But the doctrine of ideas existing primarily in G.o.d, and being divinely planted in our souls, did not originate with Boethius: it may be traced back a thousand years from his time, through the philosophy of Proclus, Zeno, Aristotle,[40] Plato, Socrates, Parmenides, and Pythagoras. It is absurd to suppose any production or effect to be more excellent than its cause. That which really produces motion, cannot itself be inert; and that which actually causes the human mind to think and reason, cannot itself be devoid of intelligence. "For knowledge can alone produce knowledge." [41] A doctrine apparently at variance with this, has recently been taught, with great confidence, among the professed discoveries of _Phrenology_. How much truth there may be in this new "_science_," as it is called, I am not prepared to say; but, as sometimes held forth, it seems to me not only to clash with some of the most important principles of mental philosophy, but to make the power of thought the result of that which is in itself inert and unthinking. a.s.suming that the primitive faculties of the human understanding have not been known in earlier times, it professes to have discovered, in the physical organization of the brain, their proper source, or essential condition, and the true index to their measure, number, and distribution. In short, the leading phrenologists, by acknowledging no spiritual substance, virtually deny that ancient doctrine, "It is not in flesh to think, or bones to reason," [42] and make the mind either a material substance, or a mere mode without substantial being.

14. "The doctrine of _immaterial substances_," says Dr. Spurzheim, "is not sufficiently amenable to the test of observation; it is founded on belief, and only supported by hypothesis."--_Phrenology_, Vol. i, p. 20. But it should be remembered, that our notion of material substance, is just as much a matter of hypothesis. All accidents, whether they be qualities or actions, we necessarily suppose to have some support; and this we call _substance_, deriving the term from the Latin, or _hypostasis_, if we choose to borrow from the Greek. But what this substance, or hypostasis, is, independently of its qualities or actions, we know not. This is clearly proved by Locke. What do we mean by _matter_? and what by _mind_? _Matter_ is that which is solid, extended, divisible, movable, and occupies s.p.a.ce.

_Mind_ is that which thinks, and wills, and reasons, and remembers, and worships. Here are qualities in the one case; operations in the other. Here are two definitions as totally distinct as any two can be; and he that sees not in them a difference of _substance_, sees it nowhere: to him all natures are one; and that one, an absurd supposition.

15. In favour of what is urged by the phrenologists, it may perhaps be admitted, as a natural law, that, "If a picture of a visible object be formed upon the retina, and the impression be communicated, by the nerves, to the brain, the _result_ will be an act of perception."--_Wayland's Moral Science_, p. 4. But it does not follow, nor did the writer of this sentence believe, that perception is a mere act or attribute of the organized matter of the brain. A material object can only occasion in our sensible organs a corporeal motion, which has not in it the nature of thought or perception; and upon what principle of causation, shall a man believe, in respect to vision, that the thing which he sees, is more properly the cause of the idea conceived of it, than is the light by which he beholds it, or the mind in which that idea is formed? Lord Kames avers, that, "Colour, which appears to the eye as spread upon a substance, has no existence but in the mind of the spectator."--_Elements of Criticism_, i, 178. And Cicero placed the perception, not only of colour, but of taste, of sound, of smell, and of touch, in the mind, rather than in the senses. "Illud est alb.u.m, hoc dulce, canorum illud, hoc bene olens, hoc asperum: animo jam haec tenemus comprehensa, non sensibus."--_Ciceronis Acad._ Lib. ii, 7. Dr. Beattie, however, says: "Colours inhere not in the coloured body, but in the light that falls upon it; * * * and the word _colour_ denotes, an external thing, and never a sensation of the mind."--_Moral Science_, i, 54. Here is some difference of opinion; but however the thing may be, it does not affect my argument; which is, that to perceive or think is an act or attribute of our immaterial substance or nature, and not to be supposed the effect either of the objects perceived or of our own corporeal organization.

16. Divine wisdom has established the senses as the avenues through which our minds shall receive notices of the forms and qualities of external things; but the sublime conception of the ancients, that these forms and qualities had an abstract preexistence in the divine mind, is a common doctrine of many English authors, as Milton, Cowper, Akenside, and others.

For example: "Now if _Ens primum_ be the cause of _entia a primo_, then he hath the idea of them in him: for he made them by counsel, and not by necessity; for then he should have needed them, and they have a parhelion of that wisdom that is in his Idea."--_Richardson's Logic_, p. 16: Lond.

1657.

"Then the Great Spirit, whom his works adore, Within his own deep essence view'd the forms, The forms eternal of created things."--AKENSIDE.

_Pleasures of the Imagination_, Book i.

"And in the school of sacred wisdom taught, To read his wonders, in whose thought the world, Fair as it is, existed ere it was."--COWPER.

_Task: Winter Morning Walk_, p. 150.

"Thence to behold this new-created world, The addition of his empire, how it show'd In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, Answering his great idea."--MILTON.

_Paradise Lost_, Book vii, line 554.

"Thought shines from G.o.d as shines the morn; Language from kindling thought is born."

ANON.: _a Poem in imitation of Coleridge_.

17. "Original Truth," [43] says Harris, "having the most intimate connection with the _Supreme Intelligence_, may be said (as it were) to shine with unchangeable splendor, enlightening throughout the universe every possible subject, by nature susceptible of its benign influence.

Pa.s.sions and other obstacles may prevent indeed its efficacy, as clouds and vapours may obscure the sun; but itself neither admits diminution, nor change, because the darkness respects only particular percipients. Among _these_ therefore we must look for ignorance and error, and for that _subordination of intelligence_ which is their natural consequence. Partial views, the imperfections of sense; inattention, idleness, the turbulence of pa.s.sions; education, local sentiments, opinions, and belief; conspire in many instances to furnish us with ideas, some too partial, and (what is worse than all this) with many that are erroneous, and contrary to truth.

These it behoves us to correct as far as possible, by cool suspense and candid examination. Thus by a connection perhaps little expected, the cause of _Letters_, and that of _Virtue_, appear to coincide; it being the business of both, to examine our ideas, and to amend them by the standard of nature and of truth."--See _Hermes_, p. 406.

18. Although it seems plain from our own consciousness, that the mind is an active self-moving principle or essence, yet capable of being moved, after its own manner, by other causes outward as well as inward; and although it must be obvious to reflection, that all its ideas, perceptions, and emotions, are, with respect to itself, of a spiritual nature--bearing such a relation to the spiritual substance in which alone they appear, as bodily motion is seen to bear to material substances; yet we know, from experience and observation, that they who are acquainted with words, are apt to think in words--that is, mentally to a.s.sociate their internal conceptions with the verbal signs which they have learned to use. And though I do not conceive the position to be generally true, that words are to the mind itself the necessary instruments of thought, yet, in my apprehension, it cannot well be denied, that in some of its operations and intellectual reaches, the mind is greatly a.s.sisted by its own contrivances with respect to language. I refer not now to the communication of knowledge; for, of this, language is admitted to be properly the instrument. But there seem to be some processes of thought, or calculation, in which the mind, by a wonderful artifice in the combination of terms, contrives to prevent embarra.s.sment, and help itself forward in its conceptions, when the objects before it are in themselves perhaps infinite in number or variety.

19. We have an instance of this in numeration. No idea is more obvious or simple than that of unity, or one. By the continual addition of this, first to itself to make two, and then to each higher combination successively, we form a series of different numbers, which may go on to infinity. In the consideration of these, the mind would not be able to go tar without the help of words, and those peculiarly fitted to the purpose. The understanding would lose itself in the multiplicity, were it not aided by that curious concatenation of names, which has been contrived for the several parts of the succession. As far as _twelve_ we make use of simple unrelated terms. Thenceforward we apply derivatives and compounds, formed from these in their regular order, till we arrive at a _hundred_. This one new word, _hundred_, introduced to prevent confusion, has nine hundred and ninety-nine distinct repet.i.tions in connexion with the preceding terms, and thus brings us to a _thousand_. Here the computation begins anew, runs through all the former combinations, and then extends forward, till the word _thousand_ has been used nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand times; and then, for ten hundred thousand, we introduce the new word _million_.

With this name we begin again as before, and proceed till we have used it a million of times, each combination denoting a number clearly distinguished from every other; and then, in like manner, we begin and proceed, with _billions, trillions, quadrillions, quintillions, etc._, to any extent we please.

20. Now can any one suppose that words are not here, in some true sense, the instruments of thought, or of the intellectual process thus carried on?

Were all these different numbers to be distinguished directly by the mind itself, and denominated by terms dest.i.tute of this artificial connexion, it may well be doubted whether the greatest genius in the world would ever be able to do what any child may now effect by this orderly arrangement of words; that is, to distinguish exactly the several stages of this long progression, and see at a glance how far it is from the beginning of the series. "The great art of knowledge," says Duncan, "lies in managing with skill the capacity of the intellect, and contriving such helps, as, if they strengthen not its natural powers, may yet expose them to no unnecessary fatigue. When ideas become very complex, and by the multiplicity of their parts grow too unwieldy to be dealt with in the lump, we must ease the view of the mind by taking them to pieces, and setting before it the several portions separately, one after an other. By this leisurely survey we are enabled to take in the whole; and if we can draw it into such an orderly combination as will naturally lead the attention, step by step, in any succeeding consideration of the same idea, we shall have it ever at command, and with a single glance of thought be able to run over all its parts."--_Duncan's Logic_, p. 37, Hence we may infer the great importance of method in grammar; the particulars of which, as Quintilian says, are infinite.[44]

21. Words are in themselves but audible or visible signs, mere arbitrary symbols, used, according to common practice and consent, as significant of our ideas or thoughts.[45] But so well are they fitted to be made at will the medium of mental conference, that nothing else can be conceived to equal them for this purpose. Yet it does not follow that they who have the greatest knowledge and command of words, have all they could desire in this respect. For language is in its own nature but an imperfect instrument, and even when tuned with the greatest skill, will often be found inadequate to convey the impression with which the mind may labour. Cicero, that great master of eloquence, frequently confessed, or declared, that words failed him. This, however, may be thought to have been uttered as a mere figure of speech; and some may say, that the imperfection I speak of, is but an incident of the common weakness or ignorance of human nature; and that if a man always knew what to say to an other in order to persuade or confute, to encourage or terrify him, he would always succeed, and no insufficiency of this kind would ever be felt or imagined. This also is plausible; but is the imperfection less, for being sometimes traceable to an ulterior source?

Or is it certain that human languages used by perfect wisdom, would all be perfectly competent to their common purpose? And if some would be found less so than others, may there not be an insufficiency in the very nature of them all?

22. If there is imperfection in any instrument, there is so much the more need of care and skill in the use of it. Duncan, in concluding his chapter about words as signs of our ideas, says, "It is apparent, that we are sufficiently provided with the means' of communicating our thoughts one to another; and that the mistakes so frequently complained of on this head, are wholly owing to ourselves, in not sufficiently defining the terms we use; or perhaps not connecting them with clear and determinate ideas."--_Logic_, p. 69. On the other hand, we find that some of the best and wisest of men confess the inadequacy of language, while they also deplore its misuse. But, whatever may be its inherent defects, or its culpable abuses, it is still to be honoured as almost the only medium for the communication of thought and the diffusion of knowledge. Bishop Butler remarks, in his a.n.a.logy of Religion, (a most valuable work, though defective in style,) "So likewise the imperfections attending the only method by which nature enables and directs us to communicate our thoughts to each other, are innumerable. Language is, in its very nature, inadequate, ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse, even from negligence; and so liable to it from design, that every man can deceive and betray by it."--Part ii, Chap. 3. Lord Kames, too, seconds this complaint, at least in part: "Lamentable is the imperfection of language, almost in every particular that falls not under external sense. I am talking of a matter exceedingly clear in the perception, and yet I find no small difficulty to express it clearly in words."--_Elements of Criticism_, Vol. i, p. 86. "All writers," says Sheridan, "seem to be under the influence of one common delusion, that by the help of words alone, they can communicate all that pa.s.ses in their minds."--_Lectures on Elocution_, p. xi.

23. Addison also, in apologizing for Milton's frequent use of old words and foreign idioms, says, "I may further add, that Milton's sentiments and ideas were so wonderfully sublime, that it would have been impossible for him to have represented them in their full strength and beauty, without having recourse to these foreign a.s.sistances. _Our language sunk under him_, and was unequal to that greatness of soul which furnished him with such glorious conceptions."--_Spectator_, No. 297. This, however, Dr.

Johnson seems to regard as a mere compliment to genius; for of Milton he says, "The truth is, that both in prose and verse, he had formed his style by a perverse and pedantick principle." But the grandeur of his thoughts is not denied by the critic; nor is his language censured without qualification. "Whatever be the faults of his diction, he cannot want the praise of copiousness and variety: he was master of his language in its full extent; and has selected the melodious words with such diligence, that from his book alone the Art of English Poetry might be learned."-- _Johnson's Life of Milton_: _Lives_, p. 92. 24. As words abstractly considered are empty and vain, being in their nature mere signs, or tokens, which derive all their value from the ideas and feelings which they suggest; it is evident that he who would either speak or write well, must be furnished with something more than a knowledge of sounds and letters.

Words fitly spoken are indeed both precious and beautiful--"like apples of gold in pictures of silver." But it is not for him whose soul is dark, whose designs are selfish, whose affections are dead, or whose thoughts are vain, to say with the son of Amram, "My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew; as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the gra.s.s."--_Deut._, x.x.xii, 2. It is not for him to exhibit the true excellency of speech, because he cannot feel its power. It is not for him, whatever be the theme, to convince the judgement with deductions of reason, to fire the imagination with glowing imagery, or win with graceful words the willing ear of taste. His wisdom shall be silence, when men are present; for the soul of manly language, is the soul that thinks and feels as best becomes a man.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

"Non mediocres enim tenebrae in sylva, ubi haec captanda: neque eon, quo pervenire volumus semitae tritae: neque non in tramitibus quaedam objecta, quae euntem retinere possent."--VARRO. _De Lingua Latina_, Lib. iv, p. 4.

1. In order that we may set a just value upon the literary labours of those who, in former times, gave particular attention to the culture of the English language, and that we may the better judge of the credibility of modern pretensions to further improvements, it seems necessary that we should know something of the course of events through which its acknowledged melioration in earlier days took place. For, in this case, the extent of a man's knowledge is the strength of his argument. As Bacon quotes Aristotle, "Qui respiciunt ad pauca, de facili p.r.o.nunciant." He that takes a narrow view, easily makes up his mind. But what is any opinion worth, if further knowledge of facts can confute it?

2. Whatsoever is successively varied, or has such a manner of existence as time can affect, must have had both an origin and a progress; and may have also its particular _history_, if the opportunity for writing it be not neglected. But such is the levity of mankind, that things of great moment are often left without memorial, while the hand of Literature is busy to beguile the world with trifles or with fictions, with fancies or with lies.

The rude and cursory languages of barbarous nations, till the genius of Grammar arise to their rescue, are among those transitory things which unsparing time is ever hurrying away, irrecoverably, to oblivion. Tradition knows not what they were; for of their changes she takes no account.

Philosophy tells us, they are resolved into the variable, fleeting breath of the successive generations of those by whom they were spoken; whose kindred fate it was, to pa.s.s away unnoticed and nameless, lost in the elements from which they sprung.

3. Upon the history of the English language, darkness thickens as we tread back the course of time. The subject of our inquiry becomes, at every step, more difficult and less worthy. We have now a tract of English literature, both extensive and luminous; and though many modern writers, and no few even of our writers on grammar, are comparatively very deficient in style, it is safe to affirm that the English language in general has never been written or spoken with more propriety and elegance, than it is at the present day. Modern English we read with facility; and that which was good two centuries ago, though considerably antiquated, is still easily understood. The best way, therefore, to gain a practical knowledge of the changes which our language has undergone, is, to read some of our older authors in retrograde order, till the style employed at times more and more remote, becomes in some degree familiar. Pursued in this manner, the study will be less difficult, and the labour of the curious inquirer, which may be suspended or resumed at pleasure, will be better repaid, than if he proceed in the order of history, and attempt at first the Saxon remains.

4. The value of a language as an object of study, depends chiefly on the character of the _books_ which it contains; and, secondarily, on its connexion with others more worthy to be thoroughly known. In this instance, there are several circ.u.mstances which are calculated soon to discourage research. As our language took its rise during the barbarism of the dark ages, the books through which its early history must be traced, are not only few and meagre, but, in respect to grammar, unsettled and diverse. It is not to be expected that inquiries of this kind will ever engage the attention of any very considerable number of persons. Over the minds of the reading public, the attractions of novelty hold a much greater influence, than any thing that is to be discovered in the dusk of antiquity. All old books contain a greater or less number of obsolete words, and antiquated modes of expression, which puzzle the reader, and call him too frequently to his glossary. And even the most common terms, when they appear in their ancient, unsettled orthography, are often so disguised as not to be readily recognized.

5. These circ.u.mstances (the last of which should be a caution to us against innovations in spelling) r.e.t.a.r.d the progress of the reader, impose a labour too great for the ardour of his curiosity, and soon dispose him to rest satisfied with an ignorance, which, being general, is not likely to expose him to censure. For these reasons, ancient authors are little read; and the real antiquary is considered a man of odd habits, who, by a singular propensity, is led into studies both unfashionable and fruitless--a man who ought to have been born in the days of old, that he might have spoken the language he is so curious to know, and have appeared in the costume of an age better suited to his taste.

6. But _Learning_ is ever curious to explore the records of time, as well as the regions of s.p.a.ce; and wherever her inst.i.tutions flourish, she will ama.s.s her treasures, and spread them before her votaries. Difference of languages she easily overcomes; but the leaden reign of unlettered Ignorance defies her scrutiny. Hence, of one period of the world's history, she ever speaks with horror--that "long night of apostasy," during which, like a lone Sibyl, she hid her precious relics in solitary cells, and fleeing from degraded Christendom, sought refuge with the eastern caliphs.

"This awful decline of true religion in the world carried with it almost every vestige of civil liberty, of cla.s.sical literature, and of scientific knowledge; and it will generally be found in experience that they must all stand or fall together."--_Hints on Toleration_, p. 263. In the tenth century, beyond which we find nothing that bears much resemblance to the English language as now written, this mental darkness appears to have gathered to its deepest obscuration; and, at that period, England was sunk as low in ignorance, superst.i.tion, and depravity, as any other part of Europe.

7. The English language gradually varies as we trace it back, and becomes at length identified with the Anglo-Saxon; that is, with the dialect spoken by the Saxons after their settlement in England. These Saxons were a fierce, warlike, unlettered people from Germany; whom the ancient Britons had invited to their a.s.sistance against the Picts and Scots. Cruel and ignorant, like their Gothic kindred, who had but lately overrun the Roman empire, they came, not for the good of others, but to accommodate themselves. They accordingly seized the country; destroyed or enslaved the ancient inhabitants; or, more probably, drove the remnant of them into the mountains of Wales. Of Welsh or ancient British words, Charles Bucke, who says in his grammar that he took great pains to be accurate in his scale of derivation, enumerates but one hundred and eleven, as now found in our language; and Dr. Johnson, who makes them but ninety-five, argues from their paucity, or almost total absence, that the Saxons could not have mingled at all with these people, or even have retained them in va.s.salage.

8. The ancient languages of France and of the British isles are said to have proceeded from an other language yet more ancient, called the _Celtic_; so that, from one common source, are supposed to have sprung the present Welsh, the present Irish, and the present Highland Scotch.[46] The term _Celtic_ Dr. Webster defines, as a noun, "The language of the Celts;"

and, as an adjective, "Pertaining to the primitive inhabitants of the south and west of Europe, or to the early inhabitants of Italy, Gaul, Spain, and Britain." What _unity_, according to this, there was, or could have been, in the ancient Celtic tongue, does not appear from books, nor is it easy to be conjectured.[47] Many ancient writers sustain this broad application of the term _Celtae_ or _Celts_; which, according to Strabo's etymology of it, means hors.e.m.e.n, and seems to have been almost as general as our word _Indians_. But Caesar informs us that the name was more particularly claimed by the people who, in his day, lived in France between the Seine and the Garonne, and who by the Romans were called _Galli_, or _Gauls_.

9. The _Celtic_ tribes are said to have been the descendants of Gomer, the son of j.a.phet. The English historians agree that the first inhabitants of their island owed their origin and their language to the _Celtae_, or Gauls, who settled on the opposite sh.o.r.e. Julius Caesar, who invaded Britain about half a century before the Christian era, found the inhabitants ignorant of letters, and dest.i.tute of any history but oral tradition. To this, however, they paid great attention, teaching every thing in verse. Some of the Druids, it is said in Caesar's Commentaries, spent twenty years in learning to repeat songs and hymns that were never committed to writing. These ancient priests, or diviners, are represented as having great power, and as exercising it in some respects beneficially; but their horrid rites, with human sacrifices, provoked the Romans to destroy them. Smollett says, "Tiberius suppressed those human sacrifices in Gaul; and Claudius destroyed the Druids of that country; but they subsisted in Britain till the reign of Nero, when Paulus Suetonius reduced the island of Anglesey, which was the place of their retreat, and overwhelmed them with such unexpected and sudden destruction, that all their knowledge and tradition, conveyed to them in the songs of their predecessors, perished at once."--_Smollett's Hist. of Eng._, 4to, B. i, Ch. i, --7.

10. The Romans considered Britain a province of their empire, for a period of about five hundred years; but the northern part of the island was never entirely subdued by them, and not till Anno Domini 78, a hundred and thirty-three years after their first invasion of the country, had they completed their conquest of England. Letters and arts, so far at least as these are necessary to the purposes of war or government, the victors carried with them; and under their auspices some knowledge of Christianity was, at a very early period, introduced into Britain. But it seems strange, that after all that is related of their conquests, settlements, cities, fortifications, buildings, seminaries, churches, laws, &c., they should at last have left the Britons in so helpless, degraded, and forlorn a condition. They _did not sow among them the seeds_ of any permanent improvement.

11. The Roman government, being unable to sustain itself at home, withdrew its forces finally from Britain in the year 446, leaving the wretched inhabitants almost as savage as it found them, and in a situation even less desirable. Deprived of their native resources, their ancient independence of spirit, as well as of the laws, customs, inst.i.tutions, and leaders, that had kept them together under their old dynasties, and now deserted by their foreign protectors, they were apparently left at the mercy of blind fortune, the wretched vicissitudes of which there was none to foresee, none to resist. The glory of the Romans now pa.s.sed away. The mighty fabric of their own proud empire crumbled into ruins. Civil liberty gave place to barbarism; Christian truth, to papal superst.i.tion; and the lights of science were put out by both. The shades of night gathered over all; settling and condensing, "till almost every point of that wide horizon, over which the Sun of Righteousness had diffused his cheering rays, was enveloped in a darkness more awful and more portentous than that which of old descended upon rebellious Pharaoh and the callous sons of Ham."--_Hints on Toleration_, p. 310.

12. The Saxons entered Britain in the year 449. But what was the form of their language at that time, cannot now be known. It was a dialect of the _Gothic_ or _Teutonic_; which is considered the parent of all the northern tongues of Europe, except some few of Sclavonian origin. The only remaining monument of the Gothic language is a copy of the Gospels, translated by Ulphilas; which is preserved at Upsal, and called, from its embellishments, _the Silver Book_. This old work has been three times printed in England.

We possess not yet in America all the advantages which may be enjoyed by literary men in the land of our ancestors; but the stores of literature, both ancient and modern, are somewhat more familiar to us, than is there supposed; and the art of printing is fast equalizing, to all nations that cultivate learning, the privilege of drinking at its ancient fountains.

13. It is neither liberal nor just to argue unfavourably of the intellectual or the moral condition of any remote age or country, merely from our own ignorance of it. It is true, we can derive from no quarter a favourable opinion of the state of England after the Saxon invasion, and during the tumultuous and b.l.o.o.d.y government of the heptarchy. But I will not darken the picture through design. If justice were done to the few names--to Gildas the wise, the memorialist of his country's sufferings and censor of the nation's depravity, who appears a solitary star in the night of the sixth century--to the venerable Bede, the greatest theologian, best scholar, and only historian of the seventh--to Alcuin, the abbot of Canterbury, the luminary of the eighth--to Alfred the great, the glory of the ninth, great as a prince, and greater as a scholar, seen in the evening twilight of an age in which the clergy could not read;--if justice were done to all such, we might find something, even in these dark and rugged times, if not to soften the grimness of the portrait, at least to give greater distinctness of feature.