The Etymology and Syntax of the English Language Explained and Illustrated, by The Rev. Alex. Crombie

The success with which the principles of any art or science are investigated, is generally proportioned to the number of those, whose labours are directed to its cultivation and improvement. Inquiry is necessarily the parent of knowledge; error itself, proceeding from discussion, leads ultimately to the establishment of truth.

Were we to estimate our progress in the knowledge of English grammar from the number of works already published on the subject, we should perhaps be prompted to infer, that in afield so circumscribed, and at the same time so often and so ably explored, no object worthy of notice could have escaped attention. And yet in this, as in every other art or science, strict examination will convince us, that, though much may have been accomplished, still much remains, to stimulate the industry, and exercise the ingenuity, of future inquirers. The author indeed is fully persuaded, that it is impossible to examine the English language with any degree of critical accuracy, and not perceive, that its syntactical principles especially are yet but imperfectly illustrated, and that there are many of its idioms, which have entirely eluded the attention of our grammarians. That these defects are all supplied by the present work, the author is far from having the vanity to believe. That he has examined a few peculiarities, and elucidated some principles, which have escaped the observation of other grammarians, he trusts the intelligent reader will remark.

The Treatise, the second edition of which now solicits the notice of the public, is intended chiefly for the improvement[iv] of those, who have made some advancement in classic literature. That an acquaintance with Greek and Latin facilitates the acquisition of every other language, and that by a knowledge of these the classical scholar is therefore materially assisted in attaining a critical acquaintance with his native tongue, it would argue extreme perversity to deny. But that an extensive knowledge of Greek and Latin is often associated with an imperfect and superficial acquaintance with the principles of the English language, is a fact, which experience demonstrates, and it would not be difficult to explain. To make any tolerable progress in a classical course, without acquiring a general knowledge of English grammar, is indeed impossible; yet to finish that course, without any correct acquaintance with the mechanism of the English language, or any critical knowledge of its principles, is an occurrence neither singular nor surprising. No language whatever can be critically learned, but by careful study of its general structure, and peculiar principles. To assist the classical scholar in attaining a correct acquaintance with English grammar, is the chief, though not the sole, end for which the present Treatise was composed. That it is, in some degree, calculated to answer this purpose, the author, from its reception, is willing to believe.

His obligations to his predecessors in the same department of literature, he feels it his duty to acknowledge. He trusts, at the same time, that the intelligent reader will perceive, that he has neither copied with servility nor implicitly adopted the opinions of others; but has, in every question, exercised his own judgment, in observance of that respect, which all men owe to truth, and consistently, he hopes, with that deference, which is confessedly due to transcendent talents.

The Treatise, he believes, contains some original observations. That all of these deserve to be honoured with a favourable verdict in the court of Criticism, he has neither the presumption to insinuate, nor the vanity to suppose. If they be found subservient to the elucidation of any controverted point, be the ultimate decision what it may, the author will attain his aim.

The work having been composed amidst the solicitudes and distractions of a laborious profession, the author has reason to apprehend, that some verbal inaccuracies may have escaped his attention. But, in whatever other respects the diction may be faulty, he trusts at least, that it is not chargeable with obscurity; and that he may be able to say, in the humble language of the poet,

The following work, which has been for some time out of print, having been favoured with the gratifying approbation of the Rev. Professor Dale, and selected by that learned and worthy preceptor, as one of the text books for the class of English literature in the University of London, a new edition has become necessary. The author’s time and attention having been recently devoted to another publication, which was not completed until it became indispensable that this volume should be sent to press, the only additions here introduced are such as occurred to the author while the work was proceeding through the hands of the printer. They will be found, however, to be in number not inconsiderable; and it is hoped, that in quality they will be thought not unworthy of the student’s attention. They consist chiefly of examples of solecism and impropriety, accompanied with such critical remarks as these errors have suggested, and such illustrations as they seemed to require. This mode of enlargement the author has preferred, persuaded of the truth of Dr. Lowth’s observation, that one of the most successful methods of conveying instruction is, “to teach what is right, by showing what is wrong.”

INTRODUCTION.

Language consists of intelligible signs, and is the medium by which the mind communicates its thoughts. It is either articulate or inarticulate; artificial or natural. The former is peculiar to man; the latter is common to all animals. By inarticulate language, we mean those instinctive sounds, or cries, by which the several tribes of inferior creatures are enabled to express their sensations and desires. By articulate language is understood a system of expression, composed of simple sounds, differently modified by the organs of speech, and variously combined.

Man, like every other animal, has a natural language intelligible to all of his own species. This language, however, is extremely defective, being confined entirely to the general expression of joy, grief, fear, and the other passions or emotions of the mind; it is, therefore, wholly inadequate to the purposes of rational intercourse, and the infinitely-diversified ideas of an intelligent being. Hence arises the necessity of an artificial or articulate language; a necessity coeval with the existence of man in his rudest state, increasing also with the enlargement of his ideas, and the improvement of his mind. Man, therefore, was formed capable of speech. Nature has furnished him with the necessary organs, and with ingenuity to render them subservient to his purposes. And[2] though at first his vocabulary was doubtless scanty, as his wants were simple, and his exigencies few, his language and his intellect would naturally keep pace. As the latter improved, the former would be enlarged.

Oral language, we have reason to suppose, continued long to be the only medium by which knowledge could be imparted, or social intercourse maintained. But, in the progress of science, various methods were devised for attaining a more permanent and more extensive vehicle of thought. Of these, the earliest were, as some think, picture-writing and hieroglyphics. Visible objects and external events were delineated by pictures, while immaterial things were emblematically expressed by figures representative of such physical objects as bore some conceived analogy or resemblance to the thing to be expressed. These figures or devices were termed hieroglyphics[1]. It is obvious, however, that this medium of communication must not only have embarrassed by its obscurity, but must have also been extremely deficient in variety of expression.

At length oral language, by an effort of ingenuity which must ever command admiration, was resolved into its simple[3] or elementary sounds, and these were characterized by appropriate symbols[2]. Words, the signs of thought, came thus to be represented by letters, or characters arbitrarily formed, to signify the different sounds of which the words were severally composed. The simplest elementary part of written language is, therefore, a letter: and the elements or letters into which the words of any language may be analyzed, form the necessary alphabet of that language.

Of these there are six vowels, or letters which by themselves make every one a perfect sound. The remaining twenty are called consonants, or letters which cannot be sounded without a vowel.

This alphabet is both redundant and defective. It is redundant; for of the vowels, the letters i and y are in sound the same: one of them therefore is unnecessary. Of the consonants,[4] the articulator c having sometimes the sound of k, and sometimes of s, one of these must be unnecessary. Q, having in all cases the sound of k, may likewise be deemed superfluous. W appears to me in every respect the same with the vowel u (oo), and is therefore supernumerary[3]. The double consonant x might be denoted by the combination of its component letters, gs or ks.

It is to be observed also, that g, when it has the soft sound, is a double consonant, and performs the same office as the letter j; each having a sound compounded of the sounds of d and the French j. Thus, g in general has the same sound as j in join. J, however, is not, as some have supposed, resolvable into two letters, for we have no character to express the simple sound of the French j, of which, with the consonant d, the sound of the English j is compounded. To resolve it into dg, as some have done, is therefore an error; as the soft g, without the aid of the other consonant, is precisely identical, in respect to sound, with the consonant j. The letter h is no consonant; it is merely the note of aspiration.

Our alphabet is likewise defective. There are nine simple vowel sounds, for which we have only six characters, two of which, as it has been already observed, perform the same office. The simple vowel sounds are heard in these words,

Some of these characters occasionally perform the office of diphthongs. Thus, in the word fine, the vowel i has the diphthongal sound of the letters â è, as these are pronounced in French; and the vowel u frequently represents the diphthong eu (e-oo), as fume (fe-oom).

There are, besides, four different consonants for which we have no proper letters; namely, the initial consonant in the word thin, the initial consonant in then, the sibilating sound of sh, and the final consonant (marked ng), as in the word sing.

Consonants are generally divided into mutes and semi-vowels. The mutes are those which entirely, and at once, obstruct the sound of the vowel, and prevent its continuation. These are called perfect mutes. Those which do not suddenly obstruct it are called imperfect mutes.

Semi-vowels are those consonants which do not entirely obstruct the voice: but whose sounds may be continued at pleasure, thus partaking of the nature of vowels.

A vowel sound may be continued at pleasure, or it may be terminated, either by discontinuing the vocal effort, in which case it is not articulated by any consonant, as in pronouncing the vowel o; or by changing the conformation of the mouth, or relative position of the organs of speech, so that the vowel sound is lost by articulation, as in pronouncing the syllable or. It is to be observed, also, that a vowel may be articulated, not only by being terminated by a consonant, as in the example now given, but likewise by introducing the sound with that position of the organs, by which it had, in the former case, been terminated, as in pronouncing the syllable ro.

In pronouncing the consonants, there are five distinguishable positions of the organs[4]. The first is the application of the lips to each other, so as to close the mouth. Thus are formed the consonants p, b, and m.

In the second position, the under lip is applied to the fore teeth of the upper jaw; and in this manner we pronounce the consonants f and v.

The third position is, when the tongue is applied to the fore teeth; and thus we pronounce th.

In the fourth position we apply the fore part of the tongue to the fore part of the palate, and by this application we pronounce the letters t, d, s, z, r, l, n.

The fifth position is, when the middle part of the tongue is applied to the palate, and thus we pronounce k, the hard sound of g (as in ga), sh, j, and ng.

In the first position we have three letters, of which the most simple, and indeed the only articulator, being absolutely[6] mute, is p. In the formation of this letter, nothing is required but the sudden closing of the mouth, and stopping the vowel sound; or the sound may be articulated by the sudden opening of the lips, in order to emit the compressed sound of the vowel.

Now, if instead of simply expressing the vowel sound by opening the lips, in saying for example pa, we shall begin to form a guttural sound, the position being still preserved; then, on opening the lips, we shall pronounce the syllable ba. The guttural sound is produced by a compression of the larynx, or windpipe; and is that kind of murmur, as Bishop Wilkins expresses it, which is heard in the throat, before the breath is emitted with the vocal sound. B, therefore, though justly considered as a mute, is not a perfect mute.

The mouth being kept in the same position, and the breath being emitted through the nostrils, the letter m is produced.

In the first position, therefore, we have a perfect mute p, having no audible sound; a labial and liquid consonant m, capable of a continued sound; and between these two extremes we have the letter b, somewhat audible, though different from any vocal sound.

Here, then, are three things to be distinguished. 1st, The perfect mute, having no sound of any kind: 2dly, The perfect consonant, having not only a proper, but continued sound: and 3dly, Between these extremes we find the letter b, having a proper sound, but so limited, that, in respect to the perfect consonant, it may be termed a mute, and in relation to the perfect mute may be properly termed imperfect.

In the second position, we have the letters f and v, neither of which are perfect mutes. The letter f is formed by having the aspiration not altogether interrupted, but emitted forcibly between the fore teeth and under lip. This is the simple articulation in this position. If to this we join the guttural sound, we shall have the letter v, a letter standing in nearly the same relation to f, as b and m, in the first position, stand to p. The only difference between f and v is, that, in the former, the compression of the teeth and under lip is not so strong as in the latter; and that the former is produced by the breath only, and the latter by the voice and breath combined.

The consonant f, therefore, though not a mute like p, in[7] having the breath absolutely confined, may notwithstanding be considered as such, consistently with that principle, by which a mute is understood to be an aspiration without guttural sound.

Agreeably to the distinction already made, v may be termed a perfect consonant, and f an imperfect one, having no proper sound, though audible. Thus we have four distinctions in our consonantal alphabet; namely, of perfect and imperfect consonants; perfect and imperfect mutes: thus,

In the third position we have th as heard in the words then and thin, formed by placing the tip of the tongue between the teeth, and pressing it against the upper teeth. The only difference between these articulations is, that like f and v, the one is formed by the breath only, and the other by the breath and voice together[5].

Here also may be distinguished the perfect and the imperfect consonant; for the th in thin has no sound, but is audible, whereas the th in this, there, has a sound, and that continued[6].

1st, If the breath be stopped, by applying the fore part of the tongue forcibly to that part of the palate, which is contiguous to the fore teeth, we produce the perfect mute t, having neither aspiration nor guttural sound. By accompanying this operation of the tongue and palate with the guttural sound, we shall pronounce the letter d, which, like b, of the first position, may be considered as a mute, though not perfect. For in pronouncing ed, the tongue at first gently touches the gum, and is gradually pressed closer, till the sound is obstructed; whereas in pronouncing et, the tongue is at once pressed so close, that the sound is instantly intercepted.

2dly, If the tip of the tongue be turned up towards the[8] upper gum, so as not to touch it, and thus the breath be cut by the sharp point of the tongue passing through the narrow chink left between that and the gum, we pronounce the sibilating sound of s. If we accompany this operation with a guttural sound, as in b, v, and th in then, we shall pronounce the letter z; the same difference subsisting between s and z as between f and v, p and b, tħ and th.

3dly, If we make the tip of the tongue vibrate rapidly between the upper and lower jaw, so as not to touch the latter, and the former but gently, we shall pronounce the letter r. The more closely and forcibly the tongue vibrates against the upper jaw, the stronger will the sound be rendered. It is formed about the same distance from the teeth as the letter d, or rather somewhat behind it.

4thly, If the end of the tongue be gently applied to the fore part of the palate, a little behind the seat of the letter d, and somewhat before the place of r, and the voice be suffered to glide gently over the sides of the tongue, we shall pronounce the letter l. Here the breadth of the tongue is contracted, and a space left for the breath to pass from the upper to the under part of the tongue, in forming this the most vocal of all the consonants.

5thly, If the aspirating passage, in the formation of the preceding consonant, be stopped, by extending the tongue to its natural breadth, so as to intercept the voice, and prevent its exit by the mouth, the breath emitted through the nose will give the letter n.

In the fifth position, namely, when we apply the middle or back part of the tongue to the palate, we have the consonants k, g, sh, j, and ng.

If the middle of the tongue be raised, so as to press closely against the roof of the mouth, and intercept the voice at once, we pronounce the letter k (ek). If the tongue be not so closely applied at first, and the sound be allowed to continue a little, we have the letter g (eg). Thus ek and eg bear the same analogy to each other, as et and ed of the fourth position. If the tongue be protruded towards the teeth, so as not to touch them, and be kept in a position somewhat flatter than in pronouncing the letter s, the voice and breath passing over it through a wider chink, we shall have the sound of esh.

If we apply the tongue to the palate as in pronouncing sh, but a little more forcibly, and accompanying it with the guttural sound, we shall have the sound of the French j. Thus j is in this position analogous to the letters b, v, th, in the first, second, and third positions, and is a simple consonant: j in English is a double consonant, compounded of d and the French j, as in join.

If we raise the middle of the tongue to the palate gently, so as to permit part of the voice to issue through the mouth, forcing the remainder back through the nose, keeping at the same time the tongue in the same position as in pronouncing eg, we shall have the articulating sound of ing, for which we have no simple character.

The only remaining letter h is the note of aspiration, formed in various positions, according to the vowel with which it is combined.

What effect the compression of the larynx has in articulation may be seen by comparing these pairs of consonants:

These, as Mr. Tooke observes, differ, each from its partner, by a certain unnoticed and almost imperceptible motion or compression of or near the larynx. This compression, he remarks, the Welsh never use. For instead of

The consonants have been distributed into different classes, according to the organs chiefly employed in their formation.

The association of two vowels, whether the sound of each be heard or not, is called a diphthong, and the concurrence of three is called a triphthong.

Of diphthongs there are twenty, viz. ai, au, ea, ee, ei, eo, eu, ie, oa, oo, ui, ay, ey, uy, oi, oy, ou, aw, ew, ow. Of the diphthongs seventeen have a sound purely monophthongal; hence they have been called improper diphthongs. It would be idle to dispute the propriety of a term almost universally adopted; but to call that a diphthong whose sound is monophthongal[11] is an abuse of language, and creates confusion. The only proper diphthongs in our language are eu, oi, ou, in which each vowel is distinctly heard, forming together one syllable. The triphthongs are three, eau, ieu, iew. Of these, the first eau is sometimes pronounced eu, as in beauty; sometimes o, as in beau: the other two have the diphthongal sound of eu.

A word, in oral language, is either a significant simple sound, or a significant combination of sounds. In written language, it may be defined to be a simple character, or combination of characters, expressive of significant sounds, simple or compound.

A word of one syllable is called a monosyllable; of two syllables, a dissyllable; a word of three syllables, a trisyllable; and a word of more than three syllables is called a polysyllable. The last term, however, is frequently applied to words exceeding two syllables.

A primitive is that which is formed from no other word, being itself a root, whence others spring, as angel, spirit, school.

A derivative is that which is derived from some other word, as angelic, spiritual, scholar.

A compound is a word made up of two or more words, as archangel, spiritless, schoolman.

In examining the character of words as significant of ideas, we find them reducible into classes, or denominations, according to the offices which they severally perform. These classes are generally called parts of speech; and how many of these belong to language has long been a question among philosophers and grammarians. Some have reckoned two,[13] some three, and others four; while the generality have affirmed, that there are not fewer than eight, nine, or ten[7]. This strange diversity of opinion has partly arisen from a propensity to judge of the character of words more from their form, which is a most fallacious criterion, than from their import or signification. One thing appears certain, how much soever the subject may have been obscured by scholastic refinements, that to assign names to objects of thought, and to express their properties and qualities, are the only indispensable requisites in language. If this be admitted, it follows, that the noun and the verb are the only parts of speech which are essentially necessary; the former being the name of the thing of which we speak, and the latter, verb, (or the word, by way of eminence,) expressing what we think of it[8]. All other sorts of words must be regarded as subsidiaries, convenient perhaps for the more easy communication of thought, but by no means indispensably requisite.

Had we a distinct name for every individual object of sensation or thought, language would then be composed purely of proper names, and thus become too great a load for any memory to retain. Language, therefore, must be composed of general signs, that it may be remembered; and as all our sensations and perceptions are of single objects, it must also be capable of denoting individuals. Now, whatever mode be adopted to render general terms significant of individual objects, or whatever auxiliaries be employed[14] for this purpose, the general term, with its individuating word, must be regarded as a substitute for the proper name. Thus man is a general term to denote the whole of a species; if I say, the man, this man, that man, it is obvious that the words the, this, and that, termed definitives, serve, with the general term, as a substitute for the proper name of the individual.

Hence it is evident, that those words which are termed definitives, how useful soever, cannot be regarded as indispensable.

The pronoun is clearly a substitute for the noun: it cannot therefore be deemed essential. The adjective expressing merely the property or quality in concreto, without affirmation, may be dispensed with; the connexion of a substance with a quality or property being expressible by the noun and the verb. Thus, “a good man” is equivalent to “a man of, with, or having, goodness.” Adverbs, which have been termed attributes of the second order, are nothing but abbreviations, as, here, for in this place, bravely, for brave like. These, therefore, cannot be considered as essentials in language. In the same manner it might be shown, that all parts of speech, noun and verb excepted, are either substitutes or abbreviations, convenient indeed, but not indispensably requisite. But, as there will be occasion to illustrate this theory, when the generally received parts of speech are severally examined, it is unnecessary to enlarge on the subject at present.

Though the essential parts of speech in every language are only two, the noun and the verb; yet, as there is in all languages a number of words not strictly reducible to either of these primary divisions, it has been usual with grammarians to arrange words into a variety of different classes. This distribution is partly arbitrary, there being no definite or universally-received principle, by which to determine what discriminative circumstances are sufficient to entitle any species of words to the distinction of a separate order. Hence grammarians are not agreed concerning the number of these subordinate classes. But, into whatever number of denominations they may be distributed, it should be always[15] remembered, that the only necessary parts of speech are noun and verb; every other species of words being admitted solely for despatch or ornament. The parts of speech in English may be reckoned ten: Noun, Article, Pronoun, Adjective, Verb, Participle, Adverb, Preposition, Conjunction, Interjection.

SECTION I.

Noun (Nomen) is that part of speech which expresses the subject of discourse, or which is the name of the thing spoken of, as, table, house, river.

A proper noun, or name, is the name of an individual, as Alexander, London, Vesuvius.

An appellative, or common noun, expresses a genus, or class of things, and is common or applicable to every individual of that class.

Nouns or Substantives (for these terms are equivalent) have also been divided into natural, artificial, and abstract. Of the first class, man, horse, tree, are examples. The names of things of our own formation are termed artificial substantives, as, watch, house, ship. The names of qualities or properties, conceived as existing by themselves, or separated from the substances to which they belong, are called abstract nouns; while Adjectives, expressing these qualities as conjoined with their subjects, are called concretes. Hard, for example, is termed the concrete, hardness the abstract.

Nouns have also been considered as denoting genera, species, and individuals. Thus man is a generic term, an Englishman a special term, and George an individual. Appellative nouns being employed to denote genera or species, and these orders comprising each many individuals, hence arises that accident of a common noun, called Number, by which we signify, whether one or more individuals of any genus or species be intended.

In English there are two numbers, the singular and the[17] plural. The singular, expressing only one of a class or genus, is the noun in its simple form, as, river; the plural, denoting more than one, is generally formed by adding the letter s to the singular, as, rivers[9]. To this rule, however, there are many exceptions.

Nouns ending in ch, sh, ss, or x, form their plural by adding the syllable es to the singular number, as, church, churches. Dr. Whately, (Archbishop of Dublin,) in violation of this universal rule, writes premiss in the singular number, and premises in the plural. (See his Logic, pp. 25, 26.) Premise, like promise, is the proper term, and makes premises in the plural. Premiss and premises are repugnant to all analogy.—Ch hard takes s for the plural termination, and not es, as patriarch, patriarchs; distich, distichs.

Nouns ending in f or fe, make their plural by changing f or fe into ves, as, calf, calves; knife, knives. Except hoof, roof, grief, dwarf, mischief, handkerchief, relief, muff, ruff, cuff, snuff, stuff, puff, cliff, skiff, with a few others, which in the formation of their plurals follow the general rule.

Nouns in o impure form their plural by adding es, as, hero, heroes; echo, echoes: those which end in o pure, by adding s, as, folio, folios.

Some nouns have their plural in en, thus following the Teutonic termination, as, ox, oxen; man, men.

Some are entirely anomalous, as, die, dice; penny, pence; goose, geese; sow, swine; and brother makes brethren[10], when denoting persons of the same society or profession. Die, a stamp for coining, makes dies in the plural.

Index makes in the plural indexes, when it expresses a table of contents, and indices, when it denotes the exponent of an algebraic quantity.

Some are used alike in both numbers, as, hose[11], deer, sheep, these being either singular or plural.

Nouns expressive of whatever nature or art has made double or plural have no singular, as, bowels, lungs, scissors, ashes, bellows.

Nouns ending in y impure form their plural by changing y into ies, as quality, qualities.

when denoting aërial spirits; but when signifying men of genius, or employed to express the plural of that combination of mental qualities which constitutes genius, it follows the general rule.

A proper name has a plural number when it becomes the name of more individuals than one, as, the two Scipios; the twelve Cæsars. It is to be observed, however, that it ceases then to be, strictly speaking, a proper name.

Some nouns have no plural. 1st. Those which denote things measured or weighed, unless when they express varieties, as, sugar, sugars; wheat, wheats; oil, oils; wine, wines. Here, not numbers of individuals, but different species or classes, are signified. In this sense the nouns are used plurally.

2d. Names of abstract, and also of moral qualities, as, hardness, softness, prudence, envy, benevolence, have no plural. It is to be observed, however, that several nouns of this class ending in y, when they do not express the quality or property in the abstract, but either its varieties or its manifestations, are used plurally. Thus we say, levities, affinities, gravities, &c. There may be different degrees and different exhibitions of the quality, but not a plurality.

Where displays of the mental quality are to be expressed, it is better in all cases to employ a periphrasis. Thus, instead of using with Hume (vol. vii. p. 411) the plural insolences, the expression acts of insolence, would be preferable.

Some of those words which have no singular termination are names of sciences, as, mathematics, metaphysics, politics, ethics, pneumatics, &c.

Of these, the term ethics is, I believe, considered as either singular or plural.

Mathematics is generally construed as plural; sometimes, however, we find it as singular. “It is a great pity,” says Locke, (vol. iii. p. 427, 8vo. 1794,) “Aristotle had not understood mathematics, as well as Mr. Newton, and made use of it in natural philosophy.”

“But when mathematics,” says Mr. Harris, “instead of being applied to this excellent purpose, are used not to exemplify logic, but to supply its place, no wonder if logic pass into contempt.”

Bacon improperly uses the word as singular and plural in the same sentence. “If a child,” says he, “be bird-witted, that is, hath not the faculty of attention, the mathematics giveth a remedy thereunto; for in them, if the wit be caught away but a moment, one is new to begin.” He likewise frequently gives to some names of sciences a singular termination;[20] and Beattie, with a few others, have, in some instances, followed his example.

“Thus far we have argued for the sake of argument, and opposed metaphysic to metaphysic.”—Essay on Truth.

“Metaphysics has been defined, by a writer deeply read in the ancient philosophy, ‘The science of the principles and causes of all things existing.’”—Encyc. Brit. Here the word is used as singular; as likewise in the following example:

“Metaphysics has been represented by painters and sculptors as a woman crowned and blindfolded, holding a sceptre in her hand, and having at her feet an hour-glass and a globe.”

“Metaphysics is that science, in which are understood the principles of other sciences.”—Hutton.

“Metaphysics tend only to benight the understanding in a cloud of its own making.”—Knox.

“Here, indeed, lies the justest and most plausible objection against a considerable part of metaphysics, that they are not properly a science.”—Hume.

The latter of these usages is the more common, and more agreeable to analogy. The same observation is applicable to the terms politics, optics, pneumatics, and other similar names of sciences.

“But in order to prove more fully that politics admit of general truths.”—Hume.

Folk and folks are used indiscriminately; but the plural termination is here superfluous, the word folk implying plurality.

Means is used both as a singular and plural noun. Lowth recommends the latter usage only, and admits mean as the singular of means. But notwithstanding the authority of[21] Hooker, Sidney, and Shakspeare, for the expressions this mean, that mean, &c., and the recommendation they receive from analogy, custom has so long decided in favour of means, repudiating the singular termination, that it may seem, perhaps, idle, as well as fastidious, to propose its dismission.

It is likewise observable, that the singular form of this noun is not to be found in our version of the Bible; a circumstance which clearly shows, that the translators preferred the plural termination.

That the noun means has been used as a substantive singular by some of our best writers, it would be easy to prove by numberless examples. Let a few suffice.

“By this means it became every man’s interest, as well as his duty, to prevent all crimes.”—Temple, vol. iii. p. 133.

“By this means there was nothing left to the parliament of Ireland.”—Blackstone, vol. i. p. 102.

“Faith is not only a means of obeying, but a principal act of obedience.”—Young.

That this word is also used as plural, the most inattentive English reader must have frequently observed.

“He was careful to observe what means were employed by his adversaries to counteract his schemes.”

While we offer these examples to show that the term is used either as a singular or as a plural noun, we would at the same time remark, that though the expression “a mean” is at present generally confined to denote “a middle, or medium, between two extremes,” we are inclined to concur with the learned Dr. Lowth, and to recommend a more extended use of the noun singular. This usage was common in the days of Shakspeare.

“Pamela’s noble heart would needs gratefully make known the valiant mean of her safety.”—Sidney.

“Their virtuous conversation was a mean to work the Heathen’s conversion unto Christ.”—Hooker.

Melmoth, Beattie, and several other writers, distinguished by their elegance and accuracy of diction, have adopted this usage. A means, indeed, is a form of expression which, though not wholly unsupported by analogy, is yet so repugnant to the general idiom of our language, and seems so ill adapted to denote the operation of a single cause, that we should be pleased to see it dismissed from use. If we say, “This was one of the means which he employed to effect his purpose,” analogy and metaphysical propriety concur in recommending a mean, or one mean, as preferable to a means. News, alms, riches, pains, have been used as either singular or plural; but we never say, “one of the news,” “one of the alms,” “one of the riches,” “one of the pains,” as we say “one of the means;” we may, therefore, be justified, notwithstanding the authority of general usage, in pronouncing “a means” a palpable anomaly.

News is likewise construed sometimes as a singular, and sometimes as a plural noun. The former usage, however, is far the more general.

“The king was employed in his usual exercise of besieging castles, when the news was brought of Henry’s arrival.”—Swift.

Swift, Pope, Gay, with most other classic writers of that age, seem to have uniformly used it as singular.

The same rule as that just now recommended in regard to the noun means might perhaps be useful here also, namely, to consider the word as singular when only one article of intelligence is communicated, and as plural when several new things are reported.

Pains is considered as either singular or plural, some of our best writers using it in either way. This word is evidently of French extraction, being the same with peine, pains or trouble, and was originally used in a singular form thus, “Which may it please your highness to take the payne for to write.”—Wolsey’s Letter to Henry VIII. It seems probable, that this word, after it assumed a plural form, was more frequently used as a singular than as a plural noun. Modern usage, however, seems to incline the other way. A celebrated grammarian indeed, has pronounced this noun to be in all cases plural; but this assertion might be proved erroneous by numberless examples[12].

In addition to these authorities in favour of a singular usage, it may be observed, that the word much, a term of quantity, not of number, is frequently joined with it, as,

The word much is never joined to a plural noun; much labours, much papers, would be insufferable[13].

Riches is generally now considered as a plural noun; though it was formerly used either as singular or plural. This substantive seems to have been nothing but the French word richesse; and therefore no more a plural than[24] gentlenesse, distresse, and many others of the same kind. In this form we find it in Chaucer:

“Thou hast dronke so much hony of swete temporal richesses, and delices, and honours of this world.”

It seems evident, then, that this word was originally construed as a substantive singular, and even admitted a plural form. The orthography varying, and the noun singular assuming a plural termination, it came in time to be considered by some as a noun plural.

In our translation of the Bible, it is construed sometimes as a singular, but generally as a plural noun.

Modern usage, in like manner, inclines to the plural construction; there are a few authorities, however, on the other side, as,

“The envy and jealousy which great riches is always attended with.”—Moyle.

Alms was also originally a noun singular, being a contraction of the old Norman French almesse, the plural of which was almesses.

Johnson says this word has no singular. It was, in truth, a first a noun singular, and afterwards, by contraction, receiving a plural form, it came to be considered by some as a noun plural. Johnson would have had equal, nay, perhaps, better authority for saying that this word has no plural.[25] Our translators of the Bible seem to have considered it as singular. “To ask an alms,” “to give much alms,” and other similar phraseologies, occur in Scripture. Nay, Johnson himself has cited two authorities, in which the indefinite article is prefixed to it.

Lowth objected to the phraseology a means, for this reason, that means, being a plural noun, cannot admit the indefinite article, or name of unity. The objection would be conclusive, if the expressions this means, that means, did not oppose the learned author’s opinion, that means is a noun plural. To the substantive alms, as represented by Johnson to have no singular, the objection is applicable.

Thanks is considered to be a plural noun, though denoting only one expression of gratitude. It occurs in Scripture as a substantive singular. “What thank have ye?”

It has been observed, that many of those words which have no singular denote things consisting of two parts, and therefore have a plural termination. Hence the word pair is used with many of them, as, “a pair of bellows, a pair of scissors, a pair of colours, a pair of drawers.”

We not only observe a plurality of substances, or of things of the same sort, whence arises the distinction of number; but we distinguish also another character of some substances, which we call sex. Every substance is either male or female, or neither the one nor the other. In English, all male[26] animals are considered as masculine; all female animals as feminine; and all things inanimate, or destitute of sex, are termed neuter, as belonging neither to the male nor the female sex. In this distribution we follow the order of nature; and our language is, in this respect, both simple and animated.

Where there is but one word to express both sexes, we[28] add another word to distinguish the sex; as, he-goat, she-goat; man-servant, maid-servant; cock-sparrow, hen-sparrow.

It has been already observed, that all things destitute of sex are in English considered as of the neuter gender; and, when we speak with logical accuracy, we follow this rule. Sometimes, however, by a figure in rhetoric, called personification, we assign sex to things inanimate. Thus, instead of “virtue is its own reward,” we sometimes say, “virtue is her own reward;” instead of “it (the sun) rises,” we say, “he rises;” instead of “it (death) advances with hasty steps,” we say, “he advances.”

This figurative mode of expression, by which we give life and sex to things inanimate, and embody abstract qualities, forms a singular and striking beauty in our language, rendering it in this respect superior to the languages of Greece and Rome, neither of which admitted this animated phraseology[14].

In assigning sex to things inanimate, it has been supposed that we have been guided by certain characters or qualities in the inanimate objects, as bearing some resemblance to the distinctive or characteristic qualities of male and female animals. Thus, it has been said, that those inanimate substances, or abstract qualities, which are characterized by the attributes of giving or imparting, or which convey an idea of great strength, firmness, or energy, are masculine; and that those, on the contrary, which are distinguished by the properties of receiving, containing, and producing, or which convey an idea of weakness or timidity, having more of a passive than active nature, are feminine. Hence it has been observed, that the sun, death, time, the names also of great[29] rivers and mountains, are considered as masculine; and that the moon, a ship, the sea, virtue, in all its species, are considered as feminine. Of these and such speculations it may be truly said, as the learned author of them remarks himself, that they are at best but ingenious conjectures. They certainly will not bear to be rigorously examined; for there are not any two languages which harmonize in this respect, assigning the same sex to the same inanimate objects, nor any one language in which this theory is supported by fact[15]. Hence it is evident, that neither reason nor nature has any share in the regulation of this matter; and that, in assigning sex to inanimate things, the determination is purely fanciful. In Greek, death is masculine: in Latin, feminine. In those languages the sun is masculine; in the Gothic, German, Anglo-Saxon, and some other northern languages, it is feminine; in Russian it is neuter. In several of the languages of Asia, the sun is feminine. According to our northern mythology, the sun was the wife of Tuisco. The Romans considered the winds as masculine; the Hebrews, says Caramuel, represented them as nymphs. In the Hebrew language, however, they were of the masculine gender, as were also the sun and death. In short, we know not any two languages which accord in this respect, or any one language in which sex is assigned to things inanimate according to any consistent or determinate rule.

In speaking of animals whose sex is not known to us, or not regarded, we assign to them gender either masculine or feminine, according, as it would appear, to the characteristic properties of the animal himself. In speaking, for example, of the horse, a creature distinguished by usefulness and a certain generosity of nature, unless we be acquainted with the sex and wish to discriminate, we always speak of this quadruped as of the male sex; thus,

In speaking of a hare, an animal noted for timidity, we[30] assign to it, if we give it sex, the feminine gender; thus, “the hare is so timorous a creature, that she continually listens after every noise, and will run a long way on the least suspicion of danger: so that she always eats in terror.”

The elephant is generally considered as of the masculine gender, an animal distinguished not only by great strength and superiority of size, but also by sagacity, docility, and fortitude.

To a cat we almost always assign the female sex; to a dog, on the contrary, or one of the canine species, we attribute the masculine gender.

“A cat, as she beholds the light, draws the ball of her eye small and long.”—Peacham on Drawing.

It would be easy to illustrate, by more examples, this ascription of either male or female sex to animals, when we speak of them in the species, or are not acquainted with the sex of the individual; but these now adduced will, I presume, be sufficient.

By what principle this phraseology is dictated, or whether it be merely casual or arbitrary in its origin, it would be of no utility at present to inquire. It may be necessary, however, to remark that, when speaking of animals, particularly those of inferior size, we frequently consider them as devoid of sex. “It is a bold and daring creature,” says a certain writer, speaking of a cat, “and also cruel to its enemy; and never gives over, till it has destroyed it, if possible. It is also watchful, dexterous, swift, and pliable.”

Before I dismiss this subject, I would request the reader’s attention to an idiom which seems to have escaped the notice of our grammarians. It frequently happens, as I have already observed, that our language furnishes two distinct terms for the male and the female, as shepherd, shepherdess. It is to be observed, however, that the masculine term has a general meaning, expressing both male and female, and is always[31] employed, when the office, occupation, profession, &c., and not the sex of the individual is chiefly to be expressed; and that the feminine term is used in those cases only, when discrimination of sex is indispensably necessary. This may be illustrated by the following examples. If I say, “The poets of this age are distinguished more by correctness of taste, than sublimity of conception,” I clearly include in the term poet, both male and female writers of poetry. If I say, “She is the best poetess in this country,” I assign her the superiority over those only of her own sex. If I say, “She is the best poet in this country,” I pronounce her superior to all other writers of poetry, both male and female. “Spinning,” says Lord Kames in his Sketches, “is a female occupation, and must have had a female inventor.” If he had said “a female inventress,” the expression would have been pleonastic. If he had said “must have had an inventress,” he would not have sufficiently contrasted the male and the female; he would have merely predicated the necessity of an inventress. He, therefore, properly adopts the term inventor as applicable to each of the sexes, limiting it to the female by the appropriate term[16]. When distinction of sex is necessary for the sake of perspicuity, or where the sex, rather than the general idea implied by the term, is the primary object, the feminine noun must be employed to express the female; thus, “I hear that some authoresses are[32] engaged in this work.”—Political Register. Here the feminine term is indispensable[17]. This subject will be resumed in “the Critical Remarks and Illustrations.”

The third accident of a noun is case, (casus, or fall,) so called because ancient grammarians, it is said, represented the cases as declining or falling from the nominative, which was represented by a perpendicular, and thence called Casus rectus, or upright case, while the others were named Casus obliqui, or oblique cases. The cases, in the languages of Greece and Rome, were formed by varying the termination; and were intended to express a few of the most obvious and common relations.

In English there are only three cases, nominative, genitive, and objective, or accusative case. In substantives the[33] nominative case and the objective, have, like neuter nouns in Greek and Latin, the same form, being distinguishable from each other by nothing but their place; thus,

where the meaning is reversed by the interchange of the nouns, the nominative or agent being known by its being placed before the verb; and the subject of the action by its following it. Pronouns have three cases, that is, two inflexions from the nominative, as, I, mine, me; thou, thine, thee.

The genitive in English, by some called the possessive case, is formed by adding to the nominative the letter s, with an apostrophe before it, as king, king’s. It expresses a variety of relations, and was hence called by the Greeks the general case[18]. The relation which it most commonly denotes is that of property or possession, as, the king’s crown; and is, in general, the same with that which is denoted by the word of, as, the crown of the king, the rage of the tyrant, the death of the prince, equivalent to the king’s crown, the tyrant’s rage, the prince’s death.

The nature of the relation which the genitive expresses must, in some instances, be collected from the scope of the context; for, in English, as in most other languages, this case frequently involves an ambiguity. When I say, “neither life nor death shall separate us from the love of God,” it may mean, either from the love which we owe to God, or the love which he bears to us; for “God’s love” may denote either the relation which the affection bears to its subject, or that which it bears to its object. If the latter be the meaning intended, the ambiguity may be prevented by saying, “love to God.”

An ambiguity likewise arises from it, as expressing either the relation of the effect to its cause, or that of the accident[34] to its subject. “A little after the reformation of Luther,” says Swift. This may import either the change produced by Luther, or a change produced in him. The latter indeed is properly the meaning, though not that which was intended by the author. He should have said, “the reformation by Luther.” It is clear, therefore, that the relation expressed by the genitive is not uniformly the same, that the phrase may be interpreted either in an active or passive sense[19], and that the real import must be collected not from the expression, but the context.

Mr. Harris has said, that the genitive is formed to express all relations commencing from itself, and offers the analysis of this case in all modern languages as a proof. That it expresses more than this, both in English and Latin, and that it denotes relations, not only commencing from itself, but likewise directed to itself, the examples already quoted are sufficient to prove. Nay, were it necessary, it would be easy to demonstrate, that this ambiguity in the use of the genitive is not confined to these two languages, but is found in Greek, Hebrew, Italian, and, I believe, in all the modern languages of Europe.

Concerning the origin of the English genitive, grammarians and critics are not agreed. That the cases, or nominal inflexions, in all languages were originally formed by annexing to the noun in its simple form a word significant of the relation intended, is a doctrine which, I conceive, is not only approved by reason, but also attested by fact. That any people, indeed, in framing their language, should affix to their nouns insignificant terminations, for the purpose of expressing any relation, is a theory extremely improbable. Numerous as the inflexions are in the Greek and Latin languages, I am persuaded that, were we sufficiently acquainted[35] with their original structure, we should find that all these terminations were at first words significant, subjoined to the radix, and afterwards abbreviated. This opinion is corroborated by the structure of the Hebrew, and some other oriental languages, whose affixes and prefixes, in the formation of their cases and conjugation of their verbs, we can still ascertain.

Now the English genitive being formed by annexing to the nominative the letter s, with an apostrophe, several critics, among whom is Mr. Addison, deliver it as their opinion, that this termination is a contraction for the possessive pronoun his. This opinion appears to be countenanced by the examples which occur in the Bible, and Book of Common Prayer, in which, instead of the English genitive, we find the nominative with the possessive pronoun masculine of the third person; thus, “for Christ his sake,” “Asa his heart was perfect.” Dr. Lowth considers these expressions as errors either of the printers or the authors. That they are not typographical mistakes I am fully persuaded. They occur in the books now mentioned, and also in the works of Bacon, Donne, and many other writers, much too frequently to admit this supposition. If errors, therefore, they are errors not of the printers, but of the authors themselves.

To evince the incorrectness of this phraseology, and to show that Addison’s opinion is erroneous, Dr. Lowth observes that, though we can resolve “the king’s crown” into “the king his crown,” we cannot resolve “the queen’s crown” into “the queen her crown,” or “the children’s bread” into “the children their bread.” This fact, he observes, ought to have demonstrated to Mr. Addison the incorrectness of his opinion. Lowth, therefore, refers the English to the Saxon genitive for its real origin, and observes, that its derivation from that genitive decides the question[20]. Hickes, in his Thesaurus,[36] had previously delivered the same opinion. Speaking of the Anglo-Saxon genitive in es, he observes, “Inde in nostratium sermone nominum substantivorum, genitivus singularis, et nominativus pluralis, exeunt in es, vel s.” From the introduction of the Saxons into this island, to the Norman conquest, the Saxon genitive was in universal use. From the latter period to the time of Henry II. (1170), though the English language underwent some alterations, we still find the Saxon genitive. Thus, in a poem, entitled “The Life of St. Margaret,” in the Normanno-Saxon dialect, we find the following among other examples, “chrisꞇes angles,” and the pronoun hyꞅ (his) spelled is; thus, “Theodosius was is name.”—See Hickes, Thes. vol. i. p. 226.

Webster has asserted that, in the age of Edward the Confessor (1050), he does not find the Saxon genitive; and as a proof that the pronoun his was used instead of the Saxon termination, he quotes a passage from a charter of Edward the Confessor, where the words, “bissop his land” occur, which he conceives to be equivalent to “bishop’s land.” Now, had he read but a small part of that charter, he would have found the Saxon genitive; and what he imagines to be equivalent to the English genitive is neither that case, nor synonymous with it. The passage runs thus: “And ich ke þe eu þat Alfred havet iseld Gise bissop his land at Llyton;” the meaning of which is, “Know that Alfred hath sold to Bishop Gise his land at Lutton.” In the time of Richard II. (1385) we find Trevisa and Chaucer using the Saxon genitive. Thus, in Trevisa’s translation of the Athanasian creed, we find among other examples, “Godes sight.”

In Gavin Douglas, who lived in the beginning of the sixteenth century, we find is instead of es, thus, faderis hands.

In the time of Henry the Eighth we find, in the works of Sir T. More, both the Saxon and the English genitive; and in a letter, written in 1559, by Maitland of Lethington, the English genitive frequently occurs. Had this genitive, then, been an abbreviation for the noun and the pronoun his, the use of the words separately would have preceded their abbreviated form in composition. This, however, was not the case.

To form the genitive plural, we annex the apostrophe without the letter s, as eagles’ wings, that is, the wings of eagles. The genitive singular of nouns terminating in s, is formed in the same manner, as, righteousness’ sake, or the sake of righteousness.

I finish this article with observing, that there are in English a few diminutive nouns, so called from their expressing a small one of the kind. Some of these end in kin, from a Dutch and Teutonic word signifying a child, as manikin, a little man, lambkin, pipkin, thomkin. Proper names ending in kin belonged originally to this class of diminutives, as, Wilkin, Willielmulus; Halkin, Hawkin, Henriculus; Tomkin, Thomulus; Simkin, Peterkin, &c.

Some diminutives end in ock, as, hill, hillock; bull, bullock; some in el, as pike, pickrel; cock, cockrel; sack, satchel; some in ing, as goose, gosling. These seem to be the only legitimate ones, as properly belonging to our language. The rest are derived from Latin, French, Italian, and have various terminations.

Language is chiefly composed of general terms, most substantives being the names of genera or species. When we find a number of substances resembling one another in their principal and most obvious qualities, we refer them to one species, to which we assign a name common to every individual of that species. In like manner, when we find several of these species resembling one another in their chief properties, we refer them to a higher order, to which also we assign a common and more general name than that which was affixed to the inferior class. Thus we assign the general name man to the human species, as possessing a common form, and distinguished by the common attributes of life, reason, and speech. If we consider man as possessed of life only, we perceive a resemblance in this respect between him and other beings. To this higher class or genus, the characteristic attribute of which is vitality, we affix the more generic name of animal[21]. Hence, when we use an appellative or common noun, it denotes the genus or class collectively, of which it is the name, as,

“The proper study of mankind is man,” i.e. not one man, not many men, but all men.

Not only, however, has this rule its limitations, though these seem governed by no fixed principle, but we frequently find the articles admitted when the whole genus or species is evidently implied. Thus we may say,

“Metal is specifically heavier than water;” i.e. not this or that metal, but all metals. But we cannot say, “Vegetable[39] is specifically lighter than water;” or, “Mineral is specifically heavier than water.” Again; we say, “Man is born unto trouble;” but we cannot say, “Tiger is ferocious,” or, “Fox is cunning;” but, “The tiger, or a tiger, is ferocious;” “The fox, or a fox, is cunning;” the expressions being applicable to the whole species. It would appear, indeed, that when proper names assume the office of appellatives, the reverse of the rule takes place. Thus we say, “A Douglas braves the pointed steel;” the meaning being “every Douglas.” Suppress the indefinite article, and the general proposition becomes individual.

But, though our words are general, all our perceptions are individual, having single existences for their objects. It is often necessary, however, to express two, three, or more of these individual existences; and hence arises the use of that species of words which have been called numerals, that is, words denoting number. To signify unity or one of a class, our forefathers employed ae or ane, as ae man, ane ox. When unity, or the number one, as opposed to two or more, was to be expressed, the emphasis would naturally be laid on the word significant of unity; and when unity was not so much the object as the species or kind, the term expressive of unity would naturally be unemphatical; and hence ae, by celerity of pronunciation, would become a, and ane be shortened into an. These words a and an are now termed indefinite articles; it is clear, however, that they are truly numerals, belonging to the same class with two, three, four, &c.; or, perhaps, more properly, these numerals may be considered as abbreviations for the repeated expression of the term one. By whatever name these terms, a, an, may be designed, it seems evident that they were originally synonymous with the name of unity, or rather themselves names of unity, emphasis only distinguishing whether unity or the species were chiefly intended. Hence a and an cannot be joined with a plural noun.

Some grammarians, indeed, have asserted that in every example where a or an occurs, the term one may be substituted in its stead, without in the least degree injuring the sense. As far as the primary idea denoted by these words[40] is concerned, this opinion is doubtless incontrovertible, for they each express unity; but with regard to the secondary or implied ideas which these terms convey, the difference is obvious. An example will illustrate this: If I say, “Will one man be able to carry this burden so far?” I evidently oppose one to more: and the answer might be, “No; but two men will.” Let us substitute the term a, and say, “Will a man be able to carry this burden?” Is the idea nowise changed by this alteration? I apprehend it is; for the answer might naturally be, “No; but a horse will.” I have here substituted a, for one; the converse will equally show that the terms are by no means mutually convertible, or strictly synonymous. If, instead of saying, “A horse, a horse, a kingdom for a horse,” I should say, “One horse, one horse, one kingdom for one horse,” the sentiment, I conceive, would not be strictly the same. In both expressions the species is named, and in both one of that species is demanded; but with this difference, that in the former the name of the species is the emphatic word, and it opposes that species to every other; in the latter, unity of object seems the leading idea, “one kingdom for one horse.” In this respect, our language appears to me to have a decided superiority over those languages where one word performs the office of what we term an article, and at the same time denotes the idea of unity. Donnez-moi un livre means either “give me one book,” i.e. not two or more books; or “give me a book,” that is, “a book, not something else; a book, not a pen,” for example.

I acknowledge that, in oral language, emphasis may serve to discriminate the sentiments, and prevent ambiguity. But emphasis is addressed to the ear only, not to the eye; it can, therefore, be of no service in written language. It is true also, that by attending to the context, error may often be avoided; but let it be remembered, as Quintilian observes[22],[41] that language should be, not such as the reader may understand if he will take the trouble to examine it carefully, but such as he cannot even without effort fail to comprehend. When it is asserted, therefore, that one may in every case be substituted for a, without in the least degree injuring the expression, the position appears to me erroneous and false. Whatever creates ambiguity, whether with respect to the primary or secondary ideas annexed to words, in some degree, without question, violates the sense. Be it observed also, that, though a, an, ae, ane, one, may have been all etymologically the same, it does not follow, nor is it practically true, as has been now shown, that they are all precisely equivalent words. In Scotland, the distinction between a and ae is well known. “Give me a book,” means any book, in contradistinction to any other object, as “a chair,” “a pen,” “a knife;” “give me ae book,” is in contradistinction to one or more. Such also is the difference between a and one.

It seems, therefore, undeniable that the word a, termed the indefinite article, was originally identical with the name of unity, expressing either one of any species, as opposed to more of that species, or one of this kind, as opposed to one of that. Whether the distinction of its noting one or unity, with less emphasis than the appropriate name of unity, should entitle it to be referred to a different class of words from the numeral one, and called an article, it is unimportant to inquire. To me, however, I must acknowledge the distinctive[42] name of article assigned to this word appears to be useless. Were emphasis to be admitted as the principle of classification, (and I see no other distinction between a and one,) the parts of speech might be multiplied beyond number.

Besides the words a and an, termed indefinite articles, as not defining which of the species is signified, we have also another word, the, named the definite article, because it is said to point out the individual object. This word, I doubt not, proceeded from the word this or that, much in the same manner as a and an from ae and ane. To what class of words this and that should be referred has been a subject of controversy[23]. That they are not pronouns, as some have asserted, seems abundantly evident; for they never represent a noun. By some they have been called definitives; and, though this designation be not strictly consonant with their import, it is perhaps the least exceptionable. When opposed to each other, they appear to be reducible to that species of words termed adjectives of order; the only difference between them and ordinary numerals being this, that the former express the arrangement in relation to two objects, the latter in relation to a series. This means “the nearer,” “the latter,” or “the second;” that, “the more remote,” “the former,” or “the first.” Their office, in general, seems to be emphatically to individuate some particular object whose character was either previously known, or is then described; hence they have also been named demonstratives. Under which of the generally received parts of speech they should be comprehended it may be difficult to determine. As, like simple attributives they accord with nouns, frequently denoting the[43] accident of place, they may be grammatically referred to the class of adjectives. Their import will appear from a few examples.

“That kind Being who is a father to the fatherless, will recompense thee for this.”

Here a species is referred to, distinguished by benevolence. Of this species one individual is emphatically particularized: “That kind being.” Who? his distinctive character follows, “is a father to the fatherless.” The concluding word this, points to something previously described.

Here the word that refers with emphasis to a thing previously specified, namely, pleasure.

“It is no uncommon thing to find a man who laughs at everything sacred, yet is a slave to superstitious fears. I would not be that man, were a crown to tempt me.” Here one indefinitely of a species is mentioned, a man. The subject is afterwards limited by description to one of a certain character, “who laughs at things sacred, and is a slave to superstitious fears.” The word that selects and demonstrates the person thus described. The word the has nearly the same import; but is less emphatical. It seems to bear the same analogy to that, which a does to one. Hence in many cases they may be used indifferently.

Here, “happy that man” would express the same idea. The Latins accordingly employed the demonstrative word ille; beatus ille, “happy the man.”

What, then, is the difference between the and that? To ascertain this, let us inquire, in what cases the is employed, and whether that can be substituted in its stead.

1st, When we express an object of eminence or notoriety, or the only one of a kind in which we are interested, as,[44] “the king,” when we mean “the king of England.” “He was concerned in bringing about the revolution,” when we mean the revolution in this country. “Virgil copied the Grecian bard,” or “Homer.” “I am going to the city,” when I mean “London.” In none of these cases can we substitute that for the, without laying a particular emphasis on the subject, and implying that its character is there described in contradistinction to some other of the same species. Thus, “he was concerned in that revolution, which was accomplished by the English barons.” “He copied that Grecian bard, who disputes the claim of antiquity with Homer.”

2dly, We employ it in expressing objects of repeated perception, or subjects of previous conversation. I borrow an example from Harris. If I see, for the first time, a man with a long beard, I say, “there goes a man with a long beard.” If I see him again, I say, “there goes the man with the long beard.” Were the word that substituted for the, the same observation would be applicable as in the preceding examples.

3dly, Mr. Harris has said, that the article a is used to express objects of primary perception, and the employed to denote those only of secondary perception. This opinion is controverted by the author of the article Grammar in the Encyclopedia Britannica, Ed. 3d. who gives the following example to disprove its truth. “I am in company, and finding the room warm, I say to the servant, Request the gentleman in the window seat (to whom I am an entire stranger) to draw down the sash.” The example is apposite, and is sufficient to overturn the hypothesis of Mr. Harris. There can be no question but the is frequently employed to denote objects of primary perception; and merely particularizes, by some discriminating circumstance, an individual whose character, person, or distinctive qualities, were previously unknown. In the example now quoted, that may be substituted for the, if we say, “who is in the window seat.”

4thly, The definite article is used to distinguish the explicative from the determinative sense. In the former case it is rarely employed: in the latter it should never be omitted,[45] unless when something still more definite supplies its place. “Man, who is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble.” Here the relative clause is explicative, and not restrictive; all men being “born of a woman;” the definite article therefore is not employed. “The man” would imply that all men are not thus born; and would confine the predicating clause to those who are. In the latter sense, that may, without any alteration in the phraseology, be substituted for the article; for the man, and that man, are in this instance equivalent.

5thly, The definite article is often used to denote the measure of excess. “The more you study, the more learned you will become;” that is, “by how much the more you study, by so much the more learned you will become.” “The wiser, the better;” “that (by that) wiser, that (by that) better.” There also that and the may be considered as equivalent; and the Latins accordingly said “eo melior.”

From the preceding examples and observations it must appear, that the definite article, and the word that, though not strictly synonymous, are words nearly of the same import.

1st, That the article the, like a, must have a substantive conjoined with it; whereas that, like one, may have it understood. Speaking of books, I may select one and say, “give me that,” but not “give me the;” “give me one,” but not “give me a.” Here the analogy holds between a and one, the and that.

2dly, As the difference between a and one seems to be, that one denotes unity in contradistinction to more, with greater emphasis than a, so the distinction in general between the and that is, that the latter marks the object more emphatically than the former, being indirectly opposed to this. I cannot say, “there goes that man with that long beard,” without implying a contrast with “this man with this long beard,” the word that being always emphatical and discriminative.

The opinion here offered, respecting these words, receives some corroboration from the following circumstances.

In Latin ille frequently supplies the place of our definite article. “Thou art the man.” Tu es ille (iste) homo.

The le in French is clearly a derivative from ille, of which the former syllable il expresses he, and the latter denotes that unemphatically, serving as the definite article. From the same source also proceed the Italian articles il, lo, la.

In Hebrew, in like manner, our definite article is expressed by the prefix of the pronoun ille; thus, aretz, terra, “earth;”[24] ha’aretz, illa seu hæc terra, “the earth,” the letter he abbreviated from hou, ille, expressing the;—ashri, haish[25], beatus ille vir, “happy the man,” or “that man,” the he in like manner signifying the or that.

It appears to me, then, that as ae, ane, when not opposed to more, and therefore unemphatical, by celerity of pronunciation were changed into a, an; so that, when not opposed to this, or when it was unemphatical, was shortened to the. Hence, the words termed articles seem to be the name of unity, and the demonstrative word that abbreviated.

Besides the words a, an, the, there are others which may be considered as reducible to the same class with these; such as this, that, any, other, same, all, one, none. This and that I have already considered. That they are not pronouns is evident, for they are never used as the representatives of a noun, and always require to be associated with a substantive. If ever they appear without this accompaniment, it will invariably be found that the expression is elliptical, some substantive or other being necessarily understood. If I say, “This was a noble action.” This what? “This action.” “This is true virtue.” This what? “This practice,” “this habit,” “this temper.” To what class of words I conceive them to belong has been already mentioned.

One is a word significant of unity, and cannot, without manifest impropriety, be called a pronominal adjective; unless, by an abuse of all language, we be disposed to name two, three, four, pronominal adjectives.

Some is reducible to the same class, denoting an indefinite, but, comparatively to many, a small number.

Many, few, several, are words of the same order, significant of number indefinitely.

None, or not one, implies the negation of all number, exclusive even of unity itself.

Other, which is improperly considered by some as a pronoun, is the Saxon oðer coming from oððe. The Arabic ahd, the Hebrew had, or ahad, the Saxon oððe, the Teutonic odo, and the Swedish udda, with our English word odd, seem all to have sprung from the same origin, the etymon expressing “one separately,” or “one by itself,” answering nearly to the Latin singulus. The English word odd plainly indicates its affinity to these words. We say, “He is an odd character,” or “singular character.” “He had some odd ones,” that is, “some separate from the rest,” not paired, or connected with them, “single.”[26]

The same idea of singularity and separation is expressed by other; which is now generally used as a comparative, and followed by than.

Other is sometimes used substantively, and has then a[48] plural number, as, “Let others serve whom they will; as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” The word one has a plural number when an assemblage of units is expressed, not in the aggregate, but individually; and then it is used as a substantive, as, “I saw a great many fine ones.” It is also used indefinitely, in the same sense with the French on, as, “One would imagine these to be expressions of a man blessed with ease.”—Atterbury. And, in using it in this sense, it may be observed, in passing, that an error is often committed by employing the personal pronouns as referring to one; thus, “One is apt to exaggerate his own injuries,” instead of “one’s own injuries.” It is sometimes, though rarely, used as referring to a plural noun. “The Romans and the Carthaginians now took the field; the one ambitious of conquest, and the others in self-defence.” This mode of expression is objectionable. We should rather say, “the former,” and “the latter.”

Any, an, a, one, seem all to be nearly equivalent words, and derived from one origin, I mean from ane, the name of unity. Hence a, or an, and any, are frequently synonymous. “A considerate man would have acted differently;” that is, “any considerate man.” Hence also, like one, it is opposed to none, as, “Have you a book (any book) which you can lend me?” “None; my books are in the country; nor, if they were here, have I any (or one) which would suit you.” From expressing one indefinitely, like a or an, it came, by an easy and natural transition, to denote “whatever it be,” “what you please.” “Give me one (ane), any, no matter which.” In this sense it corresponds to the Latin quivis or quilibet[27] in affirmative sentences; whereas, in interrogative or negative sentences, it corresponds to quisquam, quispiam, or ullus. The preceding observations it may be useful to recapitulate.

Nouns are names of genera, and not of individuals; our perceptions are, on the contrary, all individual, not general.[49] Hence, to denote one or more individuals of a species, numerals, or words significant of number, were invented. Some express a precise number, as one, two, three; others number indefinitely, as some, few, many, several. Our perceptions being all individual, and one being the basis of all number, the term significant of unity must frequently recur in expressing our sentiments. To denote this idea our forefathers employed ae, ane. In the progress of language, where unity was not to be expressed, as opposed to two or more, the terms, thus becoming unemphatical, would naturally be abbreviated into a, an. These latter, therefore, are the offspring of the names of unity, and belong to the class of words named cardinal numerals. To what part of speech these are reducible (if they can be reduced to any) it is difficult to determine. In some languages they have the form of adjectives; but, if their meaning be considered, it is clear that they have no claim to this appellation, as they express no accident, quality, or property whatever. In fact, they appear to be a species of words totally different in character from any of the parts of speech generally received; all of them, except the first of the series, being abbreviations for the name of unity repeated.

It being necessary not only to express an individual indefinitely of any species, but also to specify and select some particular one, which at first would probably be done by pointing to the object, if in sight, the words this and that, hence called demonstratives, were employed; the one to express the nearer, the other the more distant object. From one of these proceeded the word the, having the same relation to its original as a or an has to the name of unity. Hence the words synonymous with this and that, in those languages which have no definite article, are frequently employed to supply its place.

The use of these terms being to express any individual whatever of a class, and likewise some certain or particular object; we have also the words few, some, many, several, to denote a number indefinitely, and the cardinal numerals two, three, four, &c., a precise number of individuals.

Whether we speak of things present, or of things absent, of ourselves, or of others, and to whomsoever we address our discourse, the repetition of the names of those persons or things would not only be tiresome, but also sometimes productive of ambiguity. Besides, the name of the person addressed may be unknown to the speaker, and the name of the speaker may be unknown to the person addressed. Hence appears the utility of pronouns, words, as the etymology of the term denotes, supplying the place of nouns. They have therefore been denominated by some grammarians, nouns of the second order.

When the person who addresses speaks of himself, the pronoun I, called the pronoun of the first person, is employed instead of the name of the speaker, as, “The Lord said to Moses, I (the Lord) am the God of Abraham.”

When the person addressed is the subject of discourse, the pronoun thou, called the pronoun of the second person, is used instead of his name, as, “Nathan said unto David, Thou (David) art the man.”

When neither the person who speaks, nor the person addressed, but some other person or thing, is the subject of discourse, we employ the pronouns of the third person, namely, he, she, it; as, “When Jesus saw the multitude, he (Jesus) had compassion on them.”

I have said that pronouns are employed to prevent the tiresome repetition of names. It is not, however, to be hence inferred, that even the repetition of the name would, in all cases, answer the same purpose, or denote the subject with the same precision as the pronoun. For, as there is[51] hardly any name, strictly speaking, proper or peculiar to one individual, the employment of a name, belonging to more persons than one, would not so clearly specify or individuate the object as the appropriate pronoun. Hence it would often be necessary to subjoin to the name some distinctive circumstances, to discriminate the person intended from others of that name; or the speaker would be obliged to point to the individual if he happened to be present. Nay, though the person or subject designed might be thus sufficiently ascertained, it is easy to see that the phraseology would have nothing of that simplicity and energy which accompany the pronoun. If, in the first example, instead of saying, “I am the God,” we should say, “The Lord is the God;” or in the second, instead of “Thou art the man,” “David is the man,” the energy of the expression would be entirely destroyed. If any person, speaking of himself, should distinguish himself from others of the same name, by subjoining the necessary discriminating circumstances, so as to leave no doubt in the mind of the hearer, it is obvious that this phraseology would not only be inelegant, but also feeble and unimpressive. To be convinced of the truth of this observation, it is only necessary to compare the exanimate, stiff, and frequently obscure diction of a common card, with the freedom, perspicuity, and vivacity of a letter.

Pronouns may be divided into substantive and adjective, personal and impersonal, relative and interrogative. The personal substantive pronouns are I, thou, he, she. The impersonal substantive pronoun is it.

My, thy, our, your, their, being the representatives of nouns, have the essential character of pronouns. Thus, when Decius says to Cato, “Cæsar is well acquainted with your virtues,” the pronoun is employed as a substitute for Cato’s. As they express not only the subject, but also the relation of property or possession, they are by some grammarians considered to be the genitives of their respective substantive pronouns. In usage, however, they are distinguished from the English genitive by their incapacity to stand alone. Thus we say, “It is the king’s,” “It is yours;” but we cannot say, “It is your,” the presence of a noun being necessary to the last expression. They are, therefore, more correctly named pronominal adjectives. For the purpose of denoting emphatically the relation of possession or property, the word own is frequently joined to them, as, my own, thy own, our own. And to mark the person with emphasis, they are compounded with the word self; in Saxon, sylf; from the Gothic silba, ipse: thus, myself, thyself; ourselves, yourselves. Theirselves is now obsolete, themselves being used in its stead.

The pronouns of the first and second persons are either[54] masculine or feminine. The reason is, says Mr. Harris, because the sex of the speaker and of the person addressed is generally obvious. This explanation, which has been adopted by most grammarians, appears to me unsatisfactory and erroneous. Others have said that the pronouns of the first and second persons have no distinction of sex, because all distinction of this kind is foreign to the intention of the speaker, who, when he uses the pronoun I, means the person who speaks, be it man or woman; and when he employs the pronoun thou, means the person addressed, without any regard to the sex of the individual. This matter seems sufficiently plain. Language, to be useful, must be perspicuous and intelligible, exhibiting the subject and its attributes with clearness and precision. If it should be asked why the pronoun of the third person has three varieties, Mr. Harris would answer, “to mark the sex.” If it were inquired whence arises the necessity of marking the sex, he would answer, and very justly, “in order to ascertain the subject of discourse.” It is obvious, therefore, that to note the sex is not the primary object, and that the principal aim of the speaker is to discriminate and mark the subject. The pronouns of the first and second persons have no variety of form significant of sex, because the speaker and the person addressed are evident without it. Mr. Harris, therefore, should have said that the pronouns in question have no distinction of gender, not because the sex of the speaker and of the person addressed, but because the persons themselves, are in general obvious, without the aid of sexual designation. The intention of the speaker is not to denote the sex, but the person spoken of, whether male or female; to ascertain which person, if absent, the discrimination of sex is generally necessary. The sex, therefore, enters not as an essential, but as an explanatory circumstance; not as the subject of discourse, but to distinguish the subject. Where the person is present, and is either the speaker or the person addressed, discrimination of sex becomes unnecessary, the pronoun itself marking the individuals. When the person or subject of discourse is absent, the distinction of sex serves frequently to determine the subject. Hence the pronoun of the third person has three[55] varieties, he for the masculine, she for the feminine, and it for the neuter.

The four personal pronouns, I, thou, he, and she, have three cases, viz., the nominative or leading case, expressing the principal subject, and preceding the verb; the genitive case, whose form and office have been already defined; and the objective, accusative, or following case, (for it has obtained these three names,) expressing the object to which the energy is directed, or the subject acted upon. This case follows the verb.

Mine, thine, hers, theirs, his, yours, ours, are truly pronouns in the possessive or genitive case. Johnson has indeed said that my and mine are words precisely synonymous, my, according to him, being used before a consonant, and mine before a vowel; as, my sword, mine arm. It is doubtless true that mine and thine are sometimes used as my and thy, which are not substantive pronouns, but pronominal adjectives; but that they are not precisely synonymous or mutually convertible, is obvious; for my and thy cannot be used for mine and thine, though mine and thine, as has been observed, may be used for my and thy. Example: “Whose book is this?” I cannot answer, “it is my,” but “it is mine.” We may indeed say “it is my book;” but the addition of the substantive is necessary.

As my and mine, thy and thine, our and ours, your and yours, their and theirs, are not mutually convertible, they cannot be regarded as synonymous each with its fellow.

This and that, which have improperly been referred by some to the class of pronouns, have been considered already. The former makes in the plural these, the latter those.

The relative pronouns, so called because they directly relate or refer to a substantive preceding, which is therefore termed the antecedent, are who, which, that.

The pronoun who is of the masculine or feminine gender, referring to persons, male or female. The pronoun which is neuter. That is common to the three genders.

Lowth and several other grammarians have asserted that the pronoun which admits no variation. Numberless examples, however, from the best authors might be cited to disprove this assertion. Shakspeare occasionally uses whose as the genitive of which; and, since his time, writers of the highest eminence have employed it in the same manner.

“A true critic is like a dog at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach are wholly set on what the guests fling away.”—Swift.

This usage is favourable to conciseness, and can very seldom create ambiguity. Where obscurity indeed is apprehended, the periphrasis, of which, should be adopted. I have, therefore, given whose as the genitive of which; not only because this usage is sanctioned by classical authority, but likewise, because the other form, of which, is frequently awkward and inelegant.

Who is applied to persons, that is, to animals distinguished by rationality, or represented as possessing it.

“A stag, who came to drink at a river, seeing his own image in the clear stream, said thus to himself.”

Here the stag is represented as possessing reason and speech, and therefore the pronoun who is employed. In mythological writings in general, such as the Fables of Æsop,[57] inferior animals are very properly denoted by the personal relative.

Which is applied to things inanimate, and creatures either devoid of all indications of rationality, or represented as such. “The city, which Romulus built, was called Rome.” Here which is used, the word city being the antecedent, to which it refers.

“The sloth, which is a creature remarkable for inactivity, lives on leaves and the flowers of trees.” Here the sloth, an animal hardly possessing sensation or life, is expressed by which.

The rule here given for the use of these pronouns is not uniformly observed, several good writers occasionally applying them indifferently to inferior animals, without any determinate principle of discrimination. It would be better, however, were this rule universally followed; and if such modes of expression as “frequented by that fowl, whom nature has taught,” were entirely repudiated.

Priestley, whose doctrine on this subject seems nearly to coincide with ours, has even objected to the application of the pronoun who to children, because this pronoun conveys an idea of persons possessing reason and reflection, of which mere children are incapable. He, therefore, disapproves of Cadogan’s phraseology, when he says, “a child who.”

That is applied indiscriminately to things animate and inanimate, and admits no variation.

The pronouns who, which, and that, are sometimes resolvable into and he, and she, and it. Mr. Harris, indeed, has said, that the pronoun qui (who) may be always resolved into et ille, a, ud (and he, and she, and it). This opinion, however, is not perfectly correct; for it is thus resolvable in those examples only in which the relative clause does not limit or modify the meaning of the antecedent. If I say, “Man who is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble,” the relative clause is not restrictive; I may, therefore, resolve the pronoun, and say, “Man is of few days, and he is born of woman.” “Light is a body which moves with great velocity,” is resolvable into “Light is a body, and it moves with great velocity.” But when the relative clause[58] limits the meaning of the antecedent, the relative is clearly not thus resolvable. “Virgil was the only epic poet, among the Romans, who can be compared to Homer.” The signification of the antecedent is here restricted by the relative clause: we cannot, therefore, by resolution, say, “Virgil was the only epic poet among the Romans, and he can be compared to Homer;” for the former of these propositions is not true, nor is the sentiment, which it conveys, accordant with the meaning of the author.

The pronoun what, if not employed interrogatively, is equivalent to that which; and is applicable to inanimate things only, as, “I believe what I see,” or “that which I see.”

The relative pronouns who, which, are often used interrogatively, and are, therefore, in such cases considered as interrogatives. When thus employed, it is the opinion of the author of the British Grammar, that they still retain their relative character. “The only difference,” says he, “is this, that the relative refers to an antecedent and definite subject, and the interrogative to something subsequent and unknown.” The example which he adduces in support of his opinion is the following: “Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?” “The very question,” says he, “supposes a seducer, to which, though unknown, the pronoun who has a reference.” Answer, “The infernal serpent.” He continues, “Here, in the answer, we have the subject, which was indefinite, ascertained; so that the who in the interrogation is as much a relative as if it had been said originally, without any interrogation at all. It was the infernal serpent who seduced them.” Others adopt an opinion diametrically opposite, contending that who and which are properly interrogatives, and that even, when used as relatives, they still retain their interrogative character. This theory a few examples will sufficiently illustrate.

“The man who?” (which man?) his character follows, “has no music in himself.”

Of these two theories I have no hesitation in adopting the former. My reasons are these. The intention of language is to communicate our sentiments; to express what we think, feel, perceive, or desire. Hence its general character is indicative or assertive. “I believe,” “I wish,” “I see,” are affirmative sentences; and whatever variety of forms the phraseology may assume, they are all strictly significant of assertion, and all resolvable into the language of affirmation. “Go,” “teach,” “read,” are equivalent to, “I desire you to go,” “to teach,” “to read.” “Have you finished your task?” means, when the sentiment is fully expressed, “I desire to know, whether you have finished your task.” Ellipses of this kind are natural. They spring from an eagerness to impart to the vehicle of our thoughts a degree of celerity, suited to the promptitude with which the mind conceives them. Vehemence or passion, impatient of delay, uniformly resorts to them. The assertive form of expression I therefore conceive to be the parent whence every other is derived, and to which it is reducible. If this be the case, no interrogative, conceived purely as such, can claim so early an origin as definite or affirmative terms. Hence we may conclude, that who, which, when, where, were at first used as relatives, and came afterwards, by implication, to denote interrogations.

Again, we know that the meaning of an expression is frequently collected, not so much from the strict import of the terms, as from the tone or manner in which it is delivered. If I say, “he did it,” the sentence is affirmative; yet, by the tone of voice or manner of the speaker, this affirmative sentence may denote an interrogation. Thus, “he did it?” by an elevation of the voice, or the mode of notation, maybe rendered equivalent to “did he do it?” “Who did it” is in like manner an affirmative clause; but it is obvious that this form of expression, like the other now adduced, may be likewise employed to note an interrogation, thus, “Who did[60] it?” And it is evident, that, if the ellipsis be supplied, the sentence would read thus, “I want to know who did it.” The preceding clause, however, is sufficiently supplied by the manner of the speaker. An ellipsis of this kind seems to be involved in every interrogation. If I say, “did he do it?” it is equivalent to “tell me, if he did it.” Accordingly, we find that the Latins, in such interrogations, employed only the latter clause; for an (whether), which is termed an interrogative, is, in fact, nothing but the Greek ἂν, synonymous with si (if) among the Latins. “An fecit,” did he do it? is therefore strictly equivalent to “si fecit” if he did it, the former clause “tell me,” being understood, and its import supplied by the manner of the speaker, or the mode of notation.

Besides, let any person ask himself what idea he annexes to the word who, considered as an interrogative, and I am persuaded he will be sensible that he cannot form any distinct conception of its import.

I am inclined therefore to think that interrogatives are strictly relatives: and that these relatives, by the aid of voice, gesture, or some explanatory circumstance, answer the purpose of interrogation.

In using these pronouns interrogatively, it is to be observed, that who and which are each applied to persons, which is not the case when they are employed as relatives. This difference, however, is to be observed, that when the pronoun which is used interrogatively, and applied to persons, it is generally, if not always, understood that the character of the individual, who is the object of inquiry, is in presence of the inquirer, or is in some degree known. Who is more indefinite. If I say, “which is the man?” I mean “who of those now before me?” or of those who have been described? Agreeably to this notion, we say, “which of the two,” not “who of the two,” was guilty of this crime?

If I say, “Who is the man that will dare to affirm?” it implies that I am entirely a stranger to him, and that I even doubt his existence. “Which is the man?” not only implies his existence, but also that the aggregate of individuals, whence the selection is made, is known to me.

What is also used interrogatively, and is employed in introducing questions, whether the subject be persons or things, as, “What man is that?” “What book is this?” When no substantive is subjoined, it is then wholly indefinite, as, “What is man that thou art mindful of him?” When we inquire, therefore, into the character of any person, and not for the individual himself, it is to be remembered that we employ this pronoun, and not who or which.

There seems to be the same difference between who and what definite, as between who and which. If I say, “What man will dare to affirm this?” and “Which man will dare?” &c., it is obvious that the former interrogatory is more indefinite than the latter; the one implying a total ignorance of the individual, and some doubt of his existence; the other, that he is one of a number in some degree known to the inquirer.

When any defining clause is subjoined, either may be used, as, “What, or which, man among you, having a hundred sheep, and losing one, would not leave the ninety and nine?”

The pronoun whether is equivalent to “which of the two.” It is the Teutonic word wether, bearing the same relation to wer, “who” or “which,” as either does to ein, “one,” and neither, newether, to nie or nehein, “none.”

This word, though now generally employed or considered as a conjunction, is in truth reducible to the class of words which we are now examining, and is precisely synonymous with uter, tra, trum, of the Latins. “Whether is it easier to say?”—Bible.

In these examples, whether is precisely the same with “which of the two.” It seems now to be giving place to the word which, as the comparative, when two things are compared, is often supplanted by the superlative. Thus we often say, when speaking of two, “which is the best,” instead of “whether is better.” The Latins almost uniformly observed[62] the distinction:—“Uter dignior, quis dignissimus?”—Quint.

Dr. Johnson has objected to the use of this pronoun in those examples wherein the pronouns of the first or second persons are employed; and Dr. Lowth has censured it when referring to a plural number, as in the following example:

I concur, however, with the learned author of the Philosophy of Rhetoric, who regards the objections of these critics as, in this instance, of no weight. For when a question is asked, the subject of which is totally unknown, there must be some indefinite word employed to denote the subject of the interrogation. The word which we use for this purpose is it, as, “Who is it?” “What is it?” This phraseology is established by universal usage, and is therefore unexceptionable. This being the case, there can be no impropriety in repeating in the answer the indefinite term employed in the question. We may therefore reply, “It is I,” “It is he,” “It is she.”

Now, if the term be admitted in questions and answers where the subject may be either male or female, and of the first, second, or third person, it surely is admissible in those cases also where the subject is in the plural number. Nay, to use in the answer any other word to express the subject than that by which it is signified in the question, would be in all cases, if not productive of ambiguity, at least less precise. “Who is it?” says a master to his servant, hearing a voice in the hall. “It is the gentlemen who called yesterday,” replies the servant. Who sees not that “they are the gentlemen,” would be an answer less accordant with the terms of the question, and would less clearly show that “the gentlemen,” and “the subject of inquiry,” both being denoted by one term, are one and the same? Had the master known that it was the voice of a gentleman, and that there were more than one, and had he accordingly said, “Who are[63] they?” the answer would have properly been “They are the gentlemen.” But when the question is “Who is it?” I apprehend the only apposite answer is, “It is the gentlemen,” the identity of the terms (it being repeated) clearly evincing an identity of subject in the question and in the answer; in other words, that the subject of the inquiry, and the subject of the answer, are one and the same.

I conclude with observing, that, though I have here considered the word that as a pronoun, there can be no question that in its import it is precisely the same with the demonstrative that, which has been already explained. “The house that you built is burned,” is resolvable thus, “The house is burned, you built that.”

An adjective has been defined by most grammarians to be “that part of speech which signifies an accident, quality, or property of a thing.” This definition appears to me to be somewhat defective and incorrect: for the adjective does not express the quality simply, but the quality or property, as conjoined with a substance; or, as grammarians have termed it, in concreto. Thus, when we say “good man,” goodness is the name of the quality, and good is the adjective expressing that quality, as conjoined with the subject man. Accordingly, every adjective is resolvable into the name of the thing implied, and any term of reference or conjunction, as of, with. Thus “a prudent man” is equivalent to “a man with” or “having prudence” or to “a man of prudence.” An adjective, therefore, is that part of speech which denotes any substance or attribute, not by itself, but as conjoined with a subject, or pertaining to its character. This conjunction is generally marked by changing the termination of the simple name of the substantive or attribute, as fool, foolish, wax, waxen. Sometimes no change is made; and the simple name of the substance, or attribute, is prefixed to the name of the subject, as sea fowl, race horse, corn field. In writing these, and similar expressions, the conjunction is sometimes marked by a hyphen, as sea-fowl, river-fish, wine-vessel.

As every appellative denotes the whole of a genus or species, the intention and effect of the adjective is, by limiting the generic meaning of the substantive, to specify what part of the genus or species is the subject of discourse. If I say “man,” the term is universal: it embraces the species. If I say “a man,” the expression is indefinite, being applicable[65] to any individual of the kind. If I say “a good man,” I confine the term to an individual distinguished by goodness. Here man expresses the substance; and good the quality in concreto. Sometimes, on the contrary, the substantive is the general name of the quality or property; and the adjective modifies or determines its degree, as, wisdom, little wisdom. Let us take another example. The word stone is applicable to a whole species of substances. If I say round stone, I confine the meaning of the substantive to that part of the genus which is distinguished by roundness. Here the substantive denotes the matter, or substance, in general, and the adjective limits its signification, by expressing the form. Sometimes the converse takes place, as golden globe. Here the substantive is the generic name of a certain figure; and the adjective, by expressing the matter, confines that figure to the substance of gold.

Some grammarians have denominated this part of speech by the name of adjective noun; to others this designation appears inadmissible. The latter observe, that neither is the adjective the name of anything, nor is it in English variable, like the substantive. They allow, that in Greek and Latin, the designation in question is, in some degree, justifiable, because, though the noun and adjective differ essentially in office, in these languages, they agree in form; but in our language they deem it a singular impropriety[35].

I have said that the adjective denotes a substance, quality, or property, “as pertaining,” or in concreto. Now, it is to[67] be observed, that substances do not admit degrees of more or less, in regard to their essential character. “A wooden[68] table” cannot be more or less wooden. “An iron bar” cannot be more or less such. In these cases, the adjective, as I have already remarked, by expressing the matter, limits the form to one species of substance. The same observation is applicable to the converse circumstance, in which the form strictly limits the matter, as “triangular board.” Here it is obvious, that the substance limited to one form by the term triangular, cannot be more or less triangular. But this is not the case with qualities or properties, which may exist in different substances in different degrees. And, as it is sometimes necessary to express the existence of a quality, as[69] greater or less in one substance than another, hence arises the utility of some form of expression to denote these relative degrees of its existence. It is in this case only, that the termination of the adjective admits variation; and then it is said to be in a state of comparison.

In all qualities susceptible of intension or remission, the number of degrees, from the lowest to the highest, may be accounted infinite. Hardness, for example, gravity, magnitude, genius, wisdom, folly, are severally diversified by an infinitude of gradations, which it would elude the capacity of any language to discriminate. To denote these degrees, is, therefore, utterly impracticable, as it is wholly unnecessary.

In English, as in most other languages, we employ two variations: the one to denote simple excess, or a greater degree of the quality than that which is expressed by the adjective itself; and the other to denote the greatest excess. Thus, if I compare wood with stone, as possessing the quality of hardness, I say, “wood is hard,” “stone is harder.” If I compare these with iron, I say, “wood is hard,” “stone harder,” “iron the hardest.” Thus, in truth, there are only two degrees of comparison, viz. the comparative and the superlative, the positive expressing the quality simply and absolutely.

The comparative is formed by adding er to the positive, if it end with a consonant; or the letter r, if it end with a vowel; as, soft, softer; safe, safer.

The superlative is formed by adding est, or st, as, soft, softest; safe, safest[36].

The comparative degree is frequently expressed by the word more, and the superlative by most, as,

Monosyllabic adjectives are generally compared by annexing r or er, st or est; adjectives of two or more syllables by more and most, as, strong, stronger, strongest; certain, more certain, most certain.

Dissyllabic adjectives in y form an exception to this rule, as happy, happier, happiest.

Adjectives of two syllables ending in le, after a mute, are also excepted, as, able, abler, ablest.

Euphony seems here to be generally consulted, and the ear may be allowed perhaps to furnish the best rule.

Some form their superlative by adding most to the comparative, as, nether, nethermost; lower, lowermost; under, undermost: others by adding most either to the positive or comparative, as, hind, hindmost, or hindermost; up, upmost or uppermost. From in, we have inmost and innermost[37].

Besides this definite and direct kind of comparison, there is another, which may be termed indefinite or indirect, expressed by the intensive words too, very, exceedingly, &c., as, too good, very hard, exceedingly great.

When the word very, or any other of the same import, is put before the positive, it is called by some writers the superlative[71] of eminence, to distinguish it from the other superlative, which has been already mentioned, and is called the superlative of comparison. Thus, very hard is termed the superlative of eminence; most hard, or hardest, the superlative of comparison.

I have said that the comparative denotes simple excess, and the superlative the greatest. It is not, however, to be hence inferred, that the comparative may not be employed in expressing the same pre-eminence or inferiority with the superlative. If I say, “Of all acquirements virtue is the most valuable,” I may also convey the same sentiment by saying, “Virtue is more valuable than every other acquirement.” If it be asked, what then is the difference between the comparative and superlative? I answer,

1st. That the superlative expresses the absolutely highest or lowest degree of the quality, as when we say, “O God most high;” or the greatest or least degree, in relation merely to the subjects of comparison, thus expressing a superiority of excess above the comparative, as when I say, “In estimating the worth of these human attainments, learning, prudence, and virtue, it cannot be denied that learning is valuable, that prudence is more valuable, but that virtue is the most valuable.” The comparative expresses merely simple excess, but never the highest or lowest degree of the quality. This distinction is, perhaps, the most precise, and the most worthy of attention.

I observe, however, that the sentiment in the last example may be expressed by the comparative, but not simply, or by itself; thus, “Learning is valuable, prudence more valuable, and virtue more valuable still,” the word still implying a continued gradation. Were this word suppressed, the sentence would imply that prudence and virtue are each more valuable than learning, but would assert no superiority of virtue to prudence. The same sentiment may likewise be expressed by combining the two first, and marking simply the excess of the third, thus, “virtue is better than both.”

2dly. When we express the superiority or inferiority of one of two things, or of two aggregates, we almost always use the comparative. Thus, speaking of Cæsar and Cato, I say,[72] “Cato was the more virtuous, Cæsar the more eloquent;” or of two brothers, we say, “John was the elder.”

In such cases the superlative is sometimes employed, as, “the best of the two,” instead of “the better of the two.” The former phraseology, however, is more consonant to established usage, and is in every case to be preferred. “Whether is it easier to say, ‘take up thy bed and walk,’ or to say, ‘thy sins are forgiven thee?’” that is, which of the two is “easier,” not “easiest,” the simple excess of one thing above another being here denoted.

3dly. When we use the superlative, we always compare one thing, or an aggregate number of things, with the class to which they belong, or to which we refer them; whereas, when we use the comparative, except in the case just mentioned, the things compared either belong, or are conceived as belonging, to different classes, being placed in opposition to each other. Thus, in comparing Socrates, who was an Athenian, with the other Athenians, we say, “Socrates was the wisest of the Athenians;” that is, “of,” “out of,” or “of the class of Athenians.” Hence in Latin the superlative often takes the preposition ex (out of) to denote that the object compared belongs to the order of things with which it is compared; the comparative very rarely.

Now the same sentiment may be expressed by the comparative; but then the Athenians and Socrates, though belonging to one species, are conceived as mutually opposed, and referred to different places, whereas the superlative refers them to one common aggregate. Thus, if we employ the comparative, we say, “Socrates was wiser than any other Athenian.”

Agreeably to the observation now made, we cannot say, “Cicero was more eloquent than the Romans,” or “than any Roman;” because Cicero was himself a Roman, one of the class with which he is compared, and could not therefore be more eloquent than himself. As the objects compared belong, therefore, to one class, and are not two individuals, nor two aggregates, the comparative cannot be employed, unless by placing them in opposition, or referring them to different places, as, “Cicero was more eloquent than any other Roman.”[73] Here the word other denotes that opposition, that diversity of place or species, which, in all cases but the one already mentioned, is essentially implied in the use of the comparative.

I have observed already, that when the superlative is employed, the things compared are referred to one aggregate; and that when the comparative is used, they are contradistinguished by a different reference. This distinction obtains uniformly, unless when we compare only two individuals, or two classes, both referred to one aggregate, as “the elder of the Catos,” “of these two nations (speaking of the Greeks and Romans), the latter were the more warlike.” In such examples as these, the comparative, while it retains its own distinctive character, denoting simple excess, partakes also of the nature of the superlative, the objects compared being referred by the preposition to one and the same aggregate. But as the superlative is always followed by of, and the comparative, in every case except the one now mentioned, followed by than, some writers say, “the eldest of the two,” “the latter were the most warlike.” This phraseology, however conformable to the generally distinguished usage of the comparative and superlative, is repugnant to the characteristic power of these degrees, by which one denotes simple excess, while the other heightens or lessens the quality to its highest or lowest degree.

From the preceding remarks will appear the impropriety of saying, “Jacob loved Joseph more than all his children.”[38] Joseph being one of his children, the sentiment expressed involves an absurdity: it should be “more than all his other children.” “In the beginning of the 16th century, Spain is said to have possessed a thousand merchant ships, a number probably far superior to that of any nation in Europe in that age.” (Robertson’s America.) It should be, “that of any other nation in Europe:” for, Spain being one of the European nations, she could not possess a number superior[74] to her own. The comparative required the terms to be contrasted by the word other.

“Adam,” the antecedent subject of comparison, is here improperly referred to the aggregate of “men since born.” To this aggregate he cannot be said to belong, not having been “born,” nor being reducible to the class of “his own sons.” Eve also is referred to a species of which she was no part. In neither of these comparisons can the second term include the first; yet the preposition refers them to one class. Such phraseologies as these, though not ungrammatical, involve an absurdity, and should therefore be dismissed.

Adjectives, whose signification does not admit intension or remission, cannot be compared. Among these are to be reckoned, 1st, All words expressive of figure, as circular, square, triangular, perpendicular, straight; for it is obvious, that if a body or figure be triangular, or square, or circular, it cannot be more or less so. It is either circular, or not circular; triangular, or not triangular; straight, or not straight. If the affirmative be the case, gradation from more or less, or conversely, is impossible; if the negative be true, then the attributes denoted by these adjectives do not belong to it; and therefore the epithets circular, triangular, straight, &c., are inapplicable. Hence such expressions as these, “place the staff more erect,” “make the field more triangular,” are highly improper. We should say, “set the staff erect,” “make the field triangular.”

2dly. All adjectives whose signification, in their simple form, implies the highest or lowest possible degree, admit not comparison, as, chief, supreme, universal, perfect, extreme, &c. Hume, speaking of enthusiasm, says (Essays, vol. i. p. 72), “it begets the most extreme resolutions.” Extreme implies the farthest, or the greatest possible, and cannot admit intension.

I am aware that usage may be pleaded in favour of “more and most universal, more and most perfect.” This usage,[75] however, is not such as will sanction the former of these phraseologies; for good writers generally avoid it. Besides, there is no necessity for resorting to this mode of expression, as we have an attributive appropriate to the idea intended: thus, instead of saying, “Literature is more universal in England than America,” we should say, “Literature is more general.” It is almost unnecessary to observe, that literature in England is either universal, or it is not; if the former be true, it cannot be more than universal; if the latter, the term is inapplicable. The word general does not comprise the whole; it admits intension and remission: the adjective universal implies totality. A general rule admits exceptions; a universal rule embraces every particular.

The expression “more perfect” is, in strictness of speech, equally exceptionable; usage, however, has given it a sanction which we dare hardly controvert. It has been proposed, indeed, to avoid this and similar improprieties, by giving the phraseology a negative, or indirect form. Thus, instead of saying, “A time-keeper is a more perfect machine than a watch,” it has been proposed to say, “A time-keeper is a less imperfect machine than a watch.” This phraseology is logically correct, perfection being predicable of neither the one thing nor the other; it might likewise, in many cases, be adopted with propriety. In the language of passion, however, and in the colourings of imagination, such expressions would be exanimate and intolerable. A lover, expatiating with rapture on the beauty and perfection of his mistress, would hardly call her, “the least imperfect of her sex.”

In all languages, indeed, examples are to be found of adjectives being compared whose signification admits neither intension nor remission. It would be easy to assign several reasons for this, did the discussion belong to the province of the grammarian[39]. Suffice it to say, that such phraseologies should never be admitted where the language will furnish correct, and equally apposite, expressions.

I observe also, that as those adjectives whose signification[76] cannot be heightened or lessened admit not comparison, so, for the same reason, they exclude all intensive words. The expressions, so universal, so extreme, and such like, are therefore improper. The former is indeed common enough; but it is easy to see, as it has been already remarked, that whatever is universal cannot be increased or diminished; and that what is less than universal, cannot be characterized by that epithet. The phrase so universal implies a gradation in universality, and that something is less so than an another; which is evidently impossible.

It has been questioned, whether prior, superior, ulterior, exterior, and several others, which have the form of the Latin comparative, should be deemed comparatives. I am inclined to think, they ought not, for these reasons; 1st, They have not the form of the English comparative; 2dly, They are never followed by than, which uniformly accompanies the English comparative, when the subjects are opposed to each other, or referred to different classes; 3dly, It is not to be conceived, that every adjective, which implies comparison, is therefore a comparative or superlative, otherwise preferable (better than), previous (prior to), might be deemed comparatives; 4thly, Many of these have truly a positive meaning, not implying an excess of the quality, but merely the quality, as opposed to its contrary. The interior means simply the inside, as opposed to the exterior or outside; the anterior, “the one before,” opposed to posterior, “the one behind.”

I dismiss this article with observing, that the signification of the positive is sometimes lessened by the termination ish; as, white, whitish; black, blackish. Johnson remarks, that the adjective in this form may be considered as in a state of comparison; it may properly be called a diminutive.

A verb has been defined to be “that part of speech which signifies to be, to do, or to suffer;” or more correctly, “that part of speech which predicates some action, passion, or state of its subject,” as “I strike,” “I am wounded,” “I stand.” Its essence consists in affirmation, and by this property it is distinguished from every other part of speech. The adjective expresses an accident, quality, or property of a thing in concreto; that is, when joined to the name of a substance, it expresses that substance, as accompanied by some attribute: in other words, it limits a generic name, confining it to that part of the kind, which possesses the character, which the attributive specifies; but it affirms nothing. Thus, if we say, “a wise man,” which is equivalent to “a man with,” or “having wisdom,” there is no affirmation; an individual is singled from a species, under the character of wisdom, but nothing is asserted of this individual. If we say “the man is wise,” there is something affirmed of the man, and the affirmation is expressed by is. If the attribute and the assertion be combined in the expression, as in Latin vir sapit, it is obvious that the essence of the verb consists, not in denoting the attribute wisdom, but in affirming that quality, as belonging to the subject; for, if you cancel the assertion, the verb is immediately converted into an adjective, and the expression becomes vir sapiens, a wise man.

The simplest of all verbs is that which the Greeks call a verb of existence, namely, the verb to be. This verb frequently denotes pure affirmation, as “God is good,” where the verb, or copula, as it has been termed, serves to predicate of the Deity, the attribute denoted by the following word. Hence, as it expresses mere affirmation, the Latins call it a substantive verb, in contradistinction to those verbs which, with an attribute, denote assertion, and were called by some grammarians adjective verbs.

Sometimes it predicates pure or absolute existence, as “God is,” that is, “God exists.” In the following example it occurs in both senses. “We believe that thou art, and that thou art the rewarder of them who diligently seek thee.”

As nouns denote the subjects of our discourse, so verbs predicate their accidents, or properties. The former are the names of things, the latter what we say concerning them. These two, therefore, must be the only essential parts of speech; for to mental communication nothing else can be indispensably requisite, than to name the subject of our thoughts, and to express our sentiments of its attributes or properties. And as the verb essentially expresses affirmation, without which there could be no communication of sentiment, it has been hence considered as the principal part of speech, and was therefore called, by the ancient grammarians, verb, or the word, by way of eminence. The noun, however, is unquestionably of earlier origin. To assign names to surrounding objects would be a matter of the first necessity: the next step would be to express their most common actions, or states of being. This indeed is the order of nature—the progress of intellect.

Mr. Tooke observes that, “the verb does not imply any assertion, and that no single word can.” “Till one single thing,” says he, “can be found to be a couple, one single word cannot make an assertion or affirmation: for there is joining in that operation, and there can be no junction of one thing.” This theory he illustrates by the tense ibo, which he resolves thus:

The first of each triad are the simple verbs, equivalent to go. The second are the verbs Wol, Vol, Βουλ, denoting will. The third are the pronouns of the first person. Whatever opinion may be formed respecting the truth of this analysis, its ingenuity will not be questioned. There are two objections, however, by which its justness may possibly be controverted.[79] The first is, if the personal pronouns are contained, as Mr. Tooke says, in the Greek and Latin terminations of the three persons of their verbs, why is the pronoun repeated with the verb? If the o in volo be an abbreviated suffix for ego, why do we redundantly say ego volo? Now, in answer to this objection, it might be observed, were we disposed to indulge in mere hypothesis, that the involution of the pronoun may have eluded the attention of the Latins; or, if this explanation should be deemed too improbable, it may be supposed that usage, against whose decree there is no appeal, may have established the repetition of the pronoun at the expense of strict propriety. One thing particularly deserves attention, that the pronoun was seldom or never used, unless in cases where emphasis was implied, or an antithesis of persons was to be strongly marked. But without resorting to conjectures, which may be deemed vague and unsatisfactory, we may appeal to a fact which is decisive of the point in question. I have already observed, that in the Hebrew language we can distinctly mark the pronouns suffixed to the verb; yet we find the Hebrew writers repeating the pronouns even in cases where no emphasis is intended. Thus, in Gen. xlviii. 22, Ve-ani nathatti, “and I have given;” Job xix. 25, Ve-ani iadahgti, “and I knew;” Deut. ix. 2, attah iadahghta, ve-atta shamahgh ta, “thou knowest, and thou hast heard.” In these examples, the pronoun is both incorporated with the verb and repeated by itself. Whatever may be the abstract propriety of this phraseology, its existence in Hebrew is sufficient to obviate the objection proposed.

Again, it may be urged, if the pronoun ego be suffixed to the verb, why do not all the tenses in the first person singular end in o? This second objection may also be partly, if not entirely, removed. The Latin language appears to be a commixture of Greek and one of the northern languages. This commixture will account for the first person singular sometimes ending in o, in imitation of the Greeks, and at other times in m, in imitation of the Celts. The present tense of the Gaelic, a dialect of the Celtic, proceeds thus: sgriobh-aim, “I write,” sgriobh-air, sgriobh-aidh, sgriobh-amoid,[80] sgriobh-aoidhesi, sgriobh-aidsion. Here, as Whiter observes, we have something resembling the Latin verb scribo: and it is to be remarked that the first person singular ends in m, which the Romans most probably adopted as one of their verbal terminations. And could we prosecute the inquiry, and investigate the structure of the Greek and Celtic tenses themselves, we should doubtless find, that they involve, along with the radical word, one or more terms expressing the accessary ideas of action, passion, state, person, time, and so forth. The same theory, we are persuaded, may be applied to all languages, in which the tenses are formed by variety of termination.

Nothing, I conceive, can be more evident, than that the inflexions of nouns and verbs, how inexplicable soever they may now prove, were not originally the result of systematic art, but were separate terms significant of the circumstances intended, and afterwards, by celerity of pronunciation, coalesced with the words of which they now form the terminations.

It has been observed, that the essence of the verb consists in affirmation. This theory, I have remarked, is controverted by Mr. Tooke. It must be obvious, however, from the preceding observations, that the difference between the opinion of this eminent philologist, and that which is here delivered, is more apparent than real. For Mr. Tooke will not deny, that an affirmation is implied in ibo; he merely observes, that every assertion requires “a couple of terms.” Now it is of little moment to the point in question whether the two terms be incorporated in one, as in lego, or remain separate, as “I read.” In either case the verb affirms something of its nominative, whether that nominative appear in a simple or in a compound state. Sometimes the affirmation is expressed by a separate and appropriate sign, as ille est dives, “he is rich:” and the verb of existence (to be) is supposed, by several critics and philologists, to have been coeval with the earliest infancy of language. In English, the affirmation, and also the action, are frequently denoted, simply by the junction of the name of the attribute with the nominative of the subject, whether noun or pronoun. Thus, if we[81] say, “my will,” “the children’s will,” there is no affirmation implied, and the term will is considered as a mere name. But if we say, “I will,” “the children will,” it becomes invested with a different character, and affirms the volition to belong to the subject. Thus also, “the hero’s might,” “the hero might,” “my ken” (my knowledge or ability), “I ken,” I can, or I am able; “my love,” “I love.” Mr. Tooke observes, that when we say “I love,” there is an ellipsis of the word do. This appears to me a probable opinion, though not entirely unobjectionable. For though we find the auxiliary more frequently used in old English than in modern compositions, yet it does not occur so frequently as, according to this hypothesis, we should naturally expect. Mr. Tooke indeed admits the fact; but observes, that Chaucer had less occasion to use it, because in his time the distinguishing terminations of the verb still remained, though they were not constantly employed. Now I find, as Mr. Tyrwhitt remarks, that Chaucer seldom uses the word do as an auxiliary, even in those cases where the verb and the noun are identical. This circumstance might lead us to infer that the English present was derived from the Saxon, by dropping the termination, as ic lufige, I love; the affirmation and the action being sufficiently obvious from the construction, and that it was originally optional to say either “I love,” or “I do love.” Be that as it may, the assertion expressed by “I do,” equivalent to “I act,” appears clearly to be signified by the junction of the nominative pronoun with the sign of action. Whether a note of affirmation was at first separately employed, and afterwards involved in the verbal termination, or whether the affirmation be merely inferred and not signified, this is certain, that it is by the verb, and the verb only, that we can express affirmation.

As every subject of discourse must be spoken of as either doing or suffering something, either acting or acted upon; or as neither doing nor suffering; hence verbs have been divided by all grammarians into active, passive, and neuter.

The verb active denotes that the subject of discourse is doing something, as, I write; the passive verb, that the subject suffers, or is acted upon, as, the book is burned; and the[82] neuter denotes neither the one nor the other, but expresses merely the state, posture, or condition of the subject, as unaffected by anything else, as, I sit, I sleep, I stand.

Action, energy, or motion may either be confined to the agent, or pass from him to something extrinsic. Hence active verbs have been divided into transitive and intransitive. An active transitive verb denotes that kind of action by which the agent affects something foreign to himself, or which passes from the agent to something without him, as, to beat a drum, to whip a horse, to kill a dog. Beat, whip, kill, are active transitive verbs; and it is the characteristic of these verbs that they admit a noun after them, denoting the subject of the action.

An active intransitive verb denotes that species of action or energy, which passes not from the agent to anything else; that is, it expresses what has been termed immanent energy. Hence an intransitive verb does not admit a noun after it, there being no extrinsic subject or object affected by the action. Thus, I run, I walk, the horse gallops, are examples of active intransitive verbs[41].

Webster, in his Dissertations on the English Language, delivers it as his opinion, that the division of verbs into active, passive, and neuter is incorrect; and that the only accurate distribution is into transitive and intransitive. “Is not a man,” says he, “passive in hearing? yet hearing is called an active verb.”

It is doubtless true, that to hear, and many other verbs, commonly called active, denote chiefly, perhaps, the effect of an extrinsic or foreign act. But whether we view the matter as a question either in metaphysics or in grammar, we shall perceive but little impropriety in adopting the common distinction. For, though the verb to hear denotes, perhaps, chiefly, that a certain impression is made on the mind through the auditory organ, yet even here the mind is not entirely passive, as, were this the place for such a discussion, it would be easy to prove. I see, I hear, I feel, I perceive, denote not only the sensation in which we are passive, but[83] also a perception, to which the consent or activity of the mind is unquestionably essential. Hence these verbs have, in all languages, been denominated active. But if the term transitive be the only correct name, it may be asked, why does Mr. Webster call this verb by that appellation? He would answer, I doubt not, “because something passes from the agent to something else.” What, then, is that something which passes? I am afraid Mr. Webster would have difficulty in answering this question, so as to justify the term transitive, without admitting the verb to be active. For, if it be not an act, an energy, or some operation of the mind, what is it, or how can it pass from one to another? The truth is, this objection of Mr. Webster to the term active in such cases, is founded neither on metaphysical nor grammatical principles; for by an active transitive verb is meant, that which admits a noun as its regimen; and, for the purposes of grammar, this name is sufficiently correct. If the point in question be metaphysically considered, it would be easy to demonstrate that, though in sensation the mind be passive, in perception it is active.

I would here observe, in passing, that there are many verbs neuter and intransitive, which, followed by a preposition, may be truly considered as active transitive verbs. These have been denominated, by the learned Dr. Campbell, compound active verbs. To laugh, for example, is a neuter verb; it cannot therefore admit a passive voice, as, “I am laughed.” To laugh at may be considered as an active transitive verb; for it not only admits an objective case after it in the active voice, but is likewise construed as a passive verb, as, “I am laughed at.” Here an obvious analogy obtains between these two and the verbs rideo, derideo, in Latin; the former of which is a neuter, and the latter an active verb. Nor, as the same ingenious writer observes, does it matter whether the preposition be prefixed to the simple verb, as in Latin, in order to form the active verb, or be put after, and detached, as is the case in English. The only grammatical criterion in our language between an active and a neuter verb is this: if the verb admits an objective case after it, either with or without a preposition, to express the subject or object of the[84] energy, the verb may be grammatically considered as a compound active verb; for thus construed it has a passive voice. If the verb does not thus admit an objective case, it must be considered grammatically as neuter or intransitive, and has no passive voice. To smile is a neuter verb; it cannot, therefore, be followed by an objective case, nor be construed as a passive verb. We cannot say, she smiled him, or he was smiled. To smile on, according to the principle now proposed, is a compound active verb; we therefore say, she smiled on him. He was smiled on by Fortune in every undertaking[42].

As all things exist in time, and whatever is predicable of any subject must be predicated as either past, present, or future, every action, energy, or state of being, coming under one or other of these predicaments, hence arises the utility of tenses, to express the times, or relative order of their existence. In regard to the number of these tenses[43], necessary to render a language complete, grammarians have been somewhat divided in opinion.

In our language we have two simple tenses, the present and the preterperfect[44]. The latter is generally formed by[85] adding d or ed to the present, as love, loved; fear, feared. That the suffix here is a contraction for did, as Mr. Tooke[86] supposes, I can easily imagine; thus, fear, fear-did, feared, or did fear; but the question returns, whence comes the[87] termination ed in doed, from which did itself is contracted? This query seems to have escaped the attention of the learned author[45].

Actions and states of being may be predicated as either certain or contingent, free or necessary, possible or impossible,[89] obligatory or optional; in short, as they may take place in a variety of ways, they may be spoken of, as diversified in their modes of production. Hence arises another accident of verbs, called a mood, expressing the mode or manner of existence. These modes are, in some languages, partly expressed by inflexions, partly by auxiliary verbs, or words significant of the model diversity. In English there is only one mood, namely, the indicative. The Greeks and Romans expressed by inflections the most common modes of action or existence, as conditionality, power, contingency, certainty, liberty, and duty. In our language they are denoted by auxiliary verbs.

The English verb has only one voice, namely, the active. Dr. Lowth, and most other grammarians, have assigned it two voices, active and passive. Lowth has, in this instance, not only violated the simplicity of our language, but has also advanced an opinion inconsistent with his own principles. For, if he has justly excluded from the number of cases in nouns, and moods in verbs, those which are not formed by inflexion, but by the addition of prepositions and auxiliary verbs, there is equal reason for rejecting a passive voice, if it be not formed by variety of termination. Were I to ask him why he denies from a king to be an ablative case, or I may love to be the potential mood, he would answer, and very truly, that those only can be justly regarded as cases or moods which, by a different form of the noun or verb, express a different relation or a different mode of existence. If this answer be satisfactory, there can be no good reason for assigning to our language a passive voice, when that voice is formed, not by inflexion, but by an auxiliary verb. Doceor is truly a passive voice; but I am taught cannot, without impropriety, be considered as such. Besides, as it is justly observed by Dr. Ash, our author, when he parses the clause, “I am well pleased,” tells us that am is the indicative mood, present tense of the verb to be; and pleased, the passive participle of the verb to please. Now, in parsing, every[90] word should be considered as a distinct part of speech: whether, therefore, we admit pleased to be a passive participle or not, (for this point I shall afterwards examine,) it is obvious that on the principle now laid down, and acknowledged by Dr. Lowth, am pleased is not a present passive, nor has the author himself parsed it in this manner. Into such inconsistencies do our grammarians run, from a propensity to force the grammar of our language into a conformity with the structure of Greek and Latin.

The same reasoning will also account for my assigning to English verbs no more than two tenses and one mood. For, if we consider the matter, not metaphysically, but grammatically, and regard those only as moods which are diversified by inflexion, (and, as Lowth himself observes, as far as grammar is concerned, there can be no others,) we find that our language has only one mood and two tenses.

This doctrine, in respect to the cases, is very generally admitted. For though the Greeks and Romans expressed the different relations by variety of inflexion, which they termed cases, it does not follow that we are to acknowledge the same number of cases as they had, when these relations are expressed in English, not by inflexions, but by prepositions or words significant of these relations. The Latins would not have acknowledged absque fructu, without fruit, as forming a seventh case, though they acknowledged fructu, by fruit, as making an ablative or sixth case. And why? because the latter only was formed by inflexion. For this reason, I consider giving the name of dative case to the combination of words to a king, or of ablative case to the expression from a king, to be a palpable impropriety. Our language knows no such cases; nor would an Englishman, unacquainted with Greek or Latin, ever dream of these cases, though perfectly master of his own language.

In the same manner it may be asked, what could lead him to distinguish a diversity of moods, or a plurality of voices, where there is no variety of termination to discriminate them? The distinction of circumstances, respecting the modes of existence, he expresses by words significant of these accidents; but he would no more dream of giving these[91] forms of expression the name of moods, than he would be disposed to call from a king by the name of casus ablativus, or permit me to go the first person singular of the imperative mood. If, indeed, he were somewhat acquainted with Latin, he might, in the true spirit of modern grammarians, contend that let me go, or permit me to go, is truly the first person singular of the imperative mood; assigning as a reason for this assertion, that such is the designation of eam in Latin. With the most correct knowledge, however, of his own language only, he could never be seduced into this absurdity. A little reflection indeed might teach him, that even eam in Latin is an elliptical expression for sine ut eam, the word eam itself denoting neither entreaty nor command.

In truth, we may as reasonably contend that our language has all the tenses which are to be found in Greek and Latin, because, by the aid of auxiliaries and definitives, we contrive to express what they denoted by one word, as to contend that we have a potential, an optative or imperative mood, or a passive voice; because by auxiliaries or variety of arrangement we can express the circumstances of power, liberty, duty, passion, &c. No grammarian has yet gone so far as to affirm that we have in English a paulo post future, because our language, by definitives or auxiliaries, is capable of expressing that time. Or, what should we think of that person’s discernment, who should contend that the Latins had an optative mood, because utinam legeres signifies “I wish you would read”? It is equally absurd to say that we have an imperfect, preterpluperfect, or future tenses; or that we have all the Greek varieties of mood, and two voices, because by the aid of auxiliary words and definite terms we contrive to express these accidents, times, or states of being. I consider, therefore, that we have no more cases, moods, tenses, or voices in our language, as far as its grammar, not its capacity of expression, is concerned, than we have variety of termination to denote these different accessary ideas.

As the terminations of most verbs in languages are varied by tense and mood, so are they also varied according as the subject is of the first, second, or third person. Thus, in the only two tenses that we have in English, namely, the present[92] and the preterperfect tenses, the second person singular of each is formed from the first, by adding st or est, as, I love, thou lovest; I loved, thou lovedst; and the third person singular of the present is formed by adding s, or the syllable eth or th, to the first as, love, loves, or loveth; read, reads, or readeth. These are the only variations which our verbs admit, in concordance with the person of the nominative singular. The three persons plural are always the same with the first person singular.

Before I proceed to the conjugation of verbs in general, I shall first explain the manner in which the auxiliaries are conjugated. Of these the most extensively useful is the verb to be, denoting simple affirmation, or expressing existence. The next is that which signifies action, namely, the verb to do. The third is the verb to have, implying possession. The others are, shall, will, may, can, &c. I begin with the verb to be.

It may seem inconsistent with the opinion which I have delivered concerning moods, to assign an infinitive to this verb; and the existence of this infinitive may appear, perhaps, a sufficient refutation of that opinion. I shall, therefore, briefly repeat what I have said, and offer a few additional observations.

I have remarked that the first care of men, in a rude and infant state, would be to assign names to surrounding objects; and that the noun, in the natural order of things, must have been the first part of speech. Their inventive powers would next be employed to express the most common energies or states of being, such as are denoted by the verbs to do, to be, to suffer. Hence, by the help of these combined with a noun, they might express the energy or state of that thing, of which the noun was the name. Thus, I shall suppose that they assigned the word plant, as the name of a vegetable set in the ground. To express the act of setting it, they would say, do plant, that is, act plant. The letters d and t being nearly allied, it is easy to conceive how the word do, by a variation very natural and common to all languages, might be changed into to; and thus the word to prefixed to a noun would express the correspondent energy or action.

In what light, then, are we to consider the phrase to plant, termed an infinitive, or to what class of words is it reducible?[94] Previously to my answering this question, it is necessary to remind the reader, that a verb joined to a noun forms a sentence; that affirmation is essential to the character of a verb; and that, for this reason, and this only, it has been pre-eminently distinguished by the name of verb, or the word. Destroy this characteristic, and it is immediately confounded with the adjective, or the participle. It is its power of predication only, which constitutes it a distinct part of speech, and discriminates it from every other. Vir sapit, and vir est sapiens, are equivalent expressions. Cancel the assertion, and the verb is lost. The expression becomes vir sapiens, “a wise man.” This opinion, I am persuaded, requires only to be examined to be universally adopted. If this be the case, the infinitive which affirms nothing, cannot, without impropriety, be deemed a verb. It expresses merely an action, passion, or state abstractedly. Hence many grammarians have justly considered it as no part of the verb; and, in the languages of Greece and Rome, the infinitive was employed like a common substantive, having frequently an adjective joined with it, and subject to the government of verbs and prepositions. This opinion has been lately controverted by a writer of considerable eminence as a Latin scholar. But, after examining the matter with attention, I take upon me to affirm, that not a single example can be produced wherein the infinitive, as used by the Greeks and Romans, might not be supplied by the substitution of a noun. Wherefore, admitting the established principle, voces valent significatione, there cannot exist a doubt that the infinitive, which may in all cases be supplied by a noun, has itself the real character of a noun. And, if the essence of a verb consist in predication, and not, as some think, in implying time in conjunction with an attribute, which is the characteristic of a participle, then the infinitive, as it can predicate nothing, and joined to a substantive makes no sentence, cannot therefore be deemed a verb. When I say, legere est facile, “to read is easy,” it is obvious that there is only one sentence in each of these expressions. But if legere (to read) were a verb as well as est (is), then there would be two verbs and also two affirmations, for affirmation is inseparable from a verb. I remark also, that the verbal noun lectio (reading)[95] substituted for legere (to read) would precisely express the same sentiment. For these reasons I concur decidedly with those grammarians who are so far from considering the infinitive as a distinct mood, that they entirely exclude it from the appellation of verb[48].

It may be asked, what then is it to be called? In answer to this query, I observe, that it matters little what designation be assigned to it, provided its character and office be fully understood. The ancient Latin grammarians, as Priscian informs us, termed it properly enough, nomen verbi, “the noun or name of the verb.” To proscribe terms, which have been long familiar to us, and, by immemorial possession, have gained an establishment, is always a difficult, and frequently an ungracious task. I shall therefore retain its usual name, having sufficiently guarded the reader against a misconception of its character.

Now, in our language, the infinitive has not even the distinction arising from termination, to entitle it to be ranked in the number of moods; its form being the same with that of the present tense, and probably, both in its termination and its prefix, originally identical. For, if the doctrine just proposed be correct, the word do was put before each. To this rule the English language furnishes only one exception, namely, the verb of existence, in which the present indicative is am, whereas the infinitive is to be. This, however, can scarcely be deemed an exception, when it is considered, that the present indicative of this verb was originally be as well as am; though the former be now in a state of obsolescence, or rather entirely obsolete. At the same time, as this is the only verb in which the infinitive differs in form from the present of the indicative, I have judged it necessary to note the exception, and assign the infinitive.

Futurition and duty are expressed by the verb shall, but not each in the three persons.

Priestley and Lowth, who have in this been followed by most other grammarians, call the tenses may, can, shall, will, absolute tenses; might, could, should, would, conditional. That might, could, should, would, frequently imply conditionality, there can be no question; but I am persuaded that the proper character of these tenses is unconditional affirmation, and for these two reasons:

1st. Their formation seems to indicate that they are preterites indicative, proceeding from their respective presents, in the same manner as did from do, had from have, and having therefore the same unconditional meaning. Thus, I may, is equivalent to “I am at liberty;” I might, to “I was[100] at liberty;” I can, means “I am able;” I could, “I was able;” I will, “I am willing;” I would, “I was willing.”

2dly. They are used to express unconditional meaning. If we say, “This might prove fatal to your interest,” the assertion of the possibility of the event is as unconditional as absolute, as, “This may prove fatal to your interest.” “This, if you do it, will ruin your cause,” is precisely equivalent to, “This, were you to do it, would ruin your cause;” equivalent as far, at least, as the unconditional affirmation of the consequence of a supposed action is involved[55]. “I may write, if I choose,” is not more absolute than “I might write, if I chose.” If I say, “I might have gone to the Continent,” the expression is as unconditional as, “I had it in my power,” “I was at liberty to go to the Continent.” “Can you construe Lycophron?” “I cannot now; but once I could.” “May you do as you please?” “Not now; but once I might.” Is there any conditionality implied in the latter clause of each of these answers? Not the least. They are unconditionally assertive. The formation of these tenses, therefore, being analogous to that of preterites indicative, and their import in these examples, as in many others which might be adduced, being unconditional and absolute, I am inclined to consider them as preterites indicative, agreeably to their form, and as properly unconditional in respect to signification.

I observe, however, that though might, could, would, should, are preterite tenses, they are frequently employed to denote present time[56]; but in such examples care must be taken that congruity of tense be preserved, and that the subsequent be expressed in the same tense with the antecedent verb. Thus I say, “I may go if I choose,” where the liberty and inclination are each expressed as present; or, “I might go if I chose,” where, though present time be implied, the liberty is expressed by the preterite, and the inclination is denoted by the same tense.

Before I proceed to show how these auxiliary verbs are joined with others, to express the intended accessary ideas, I shall offer a few observations on the participle.

A participle is a part of speech derived from a verb, agreeing with its primitive in denoting action, being, or suffering, but differing from it in this, that the participle implies no affirmation[57].

There are two participles, the present, ending in ing, as reading[58]; and the perfect or past, generally ending in d or ed, as heard, loved.

The present participle denotes the relatively present, or the contemporary continuation of an action, or state of being. If we say, “James was building the house,” the participle expresses the continuation of the action, and the verb may be considered as active. If we say, “the house was building,[103] when the wall fell,” the participle, the same as in the preceding example, denotes here the continuation of a state of suffering, or being acted upon; and the verb may be considered as passive. This participle, therefore, denoting either action or passion, cannot with propriety be considered, as it has been by some grammarians, as entirely an active participle. Its distinctive and real character is, that in point of time it denotes the relatively present, and may therefore be called the present participle; and, in regard to action or passion, it denotes their continuance or incompletion, and may therefore be termed imperfect. In respect to time, therefore, it is present; in respect to the action or state of being, it is continued or imperfect. But whether it express action or passion can be ascertained only by inquiring whether the subject be acting or suffering; and this is a question which judgment only can decide, the participle itself not determining the point. If we say, “the prisoner was burning,” our knowledge of the subject only can enable us to determine whether the prisoner was active or passive; whether he was employing fire to consume, or was himself consuming by fire.

The other participle, ending generally in ed or d, has been called by some grammarians the passive participle, in contradistinction to the one which we have now been considering, and which they have termed the active participle. “This participle has been so called,” says the author of the British Grammar, “because, joined with the verb to be, it forms the passive voice.” If the reason here assigned justify its denomination as a passive participle, there exists the same reason for calling it an active participle; for, with the verb to have, it forms some of the compound tenses of the active voice. The truth is, that, as those grammarians have erred who consider the participle in ing as an active participle, when it in fact denotes either action or passion, so those, on the other hand, commit a similar mistake, who regard the participle in ed as purely passive. A little attention will suffice to show that it belongs to neither the one voice nor the other peculiarly: and that it denotes merely completion or perfection, in contradistinction to the other participle,[104] which expresses imperfection or continuation. If it be true, indeed, that the participle in ing does not belong to the active voice only, but expresses merely the continuation of any act, passion, or state of being, analogy would incline us to infer, that the participle in ed, which denotes the completion of an act or state of being, cannot belong exclusively to the passive voice; and I conceive that, on inquiry, we shall find this to be the case. If I say, “he had concealed a poniard under his coat,” the participle here would be considered as active. If I say, “he had a poniard concealed under his clothes,” the participle would be regarded as passive. Does not this prove that this participle is ambiguous, that it properly belongs to neither voice, and that the context only, or the arrangement, can determine, whether it denote the perfection of an action, or the completion of a passion or state of being? When I say, “Lucretia stabbed herself with a dagger, which she had concealed under her clothes,” it is impossible to ascertain whether the participle be active or passive, that is, whether the verb had be here merely an auxiliary verb, or be synonymous with the verb to possess. If the former be intended, the syntactical collocation is, “she had concealed (which) dagger under her clothes:” if the latter, the grammatical order is, “she had which dagger concealed:” and it requires but little discernment to perceive that “she had concealed a dagger,” and “had a dagger concealed,” are expressions by no means precisely equivalent.

I need not here remind the classical scholar, that the Latins had two distinct forms of expression to mark this diversity; the one, quem abdiderat, and the other quem abditum habebat. The latter is the phraseology of Livy, describing the suicide of Lucretia. His words, if translated, “which she had concealed,” become ambiguous; for this is equally a translation of quem abdiderat. It is observable also, that the phrase quem abdiderat would not imply, that the dagger was in the possession of Lucretia at the time.

The participle in ed, therefore, I consider to be perfectly analogous to the participle in ing, and used like it in either an active or passive sense; belonging, therefore, neither to the one voice nor the other exclusively, but denoting the[105] completion of an action or state of being, while the participle in ing denotes its continuation.

In exhibiting a paradigm of the conjugation of our verbs, many grammarians have implicitly and servilely copied the Latin grammar, transferring into our language the names both of tenses and moods which have formally no existence in English. “I may burn,” is denominated, by the author of the British Grammar, the present subjunctive; “I might burn,” the imperfect subjunctive; “I may have burned,” the preterperfect; and so on. This is directly repugnant to the simplicity of our language, and is in truth as absurd as it would be to call “we two love,” the dual number of the present tense; or “he shall soon be buried,” a paulo post future. Were this principle carried its full length, we should have all the tenses, moods, and numbers, which are to be found in Greek or Latin. It appears to me, that nothing but prejudice or affectation could have prompted our English grammarians to desert the simple structure of their own language, and wantonly to perplex it with technical terms, for things not existing in the language itself.

I purpose, therefore, in exhibiting the conjugation of the English verb, to give the simple tenses, as the only ones belonging to our language; and then show how, by the aid of other words combined with these, we contrive to express the requisite modifications, and various accessary ideas.

This tense is by some grammarians called the present indefinite; while by others it is considered as either definite or indefinite. When it expresses an action now present, it is termed the present definite, as,

If the proposition expressed be general, or true at all times, this tense is then termed the present indefinite; as, “The wicked flee, when no man pursueth.”

These are the only two tenses in our language formed by varying the termination; the only two tenses, therefore, which properly belong to it.

This tense denotes a present action proceeding. In regard to time, it has been termed definite; and, in respect to action, it differs from the other present in this, that the former has no reference either to the perfection or imperfection of the action; whereas this denotes that the action is continued and imperfect.

This form of the verb is emphatic, and generally implies doubt or contradiction on the part of the person addressed, to remove which the assertion is enforced by the auxiliary verb. In respect to time and action, it is precisely the same with I write.

Cancel the auxiliary verb, and the expression becomes feeble and spiritless. This is one of those phraseologies, which it would be impossible to render in a transpositive[107] language. Di me perdant, quin te amem, is an expression comparatively exanimate and insipid.

as, “This to me in dreadful secrecy impart they did.” The emphasis here, however, may partly arise from the inverted collocation. The following example is therefore more apposite. “I have been told that you have slighted me, and said, I feared to face my enemy. You surely did not wrong me thus?” “I did say so.”

This tense is indefinite, in respect both to the time, and the completion of the action.

This tense denotes that an action was proceeding, or going on, at a time past either specified or implied, as “I was writing when you called.”

This tense expresses time as past, and the action as perfect. It is compounded of the present tense of the verb denoting possession and the perfect participle. It signifies a perfect action either newly finished, or in a time of which there is some part to elapse, or an action whose consequences extend to the present. In short, it clearly refers to present time. This, indeed, the composition of the tense manifestly evinces. Thus, “I have written a letter,” means “I possess at present the finished action of writing a letter.” This phraseology, I acknowledge, seems uncouth and inelegant; but, how awkward soever it may appear, the tense is unquestionably thus resolvable.

1st. It expresses an action newly finished, as, “I understand[108] that a messenger has arrived from Paris,” that is, “newly,” or “just now,” arrived.

2dly. An action done in a space of time, part of which is yet to elapse; as, “It has rained all this week,” “We have seen strange things this century.”

3dly. An action perfected some time ago, but whose consequences extend to the present time; as, “I have wasted my time, and now suffer for my folly.”

This tense has been termed, by some grammarians, the perfect indefinite, and “I wrote,” the perfect definite. The argument which they offer for this denomination is, that the latter admits a definitive, to specify the precise time, and the former rejects it. Those who reason in this manner seem to me not only chargeable with a perversion of terms, but also to disprove their own theory. For what is meant by a definite term? Not surely that which admits or requires a definitive to give it precision; but that which of itself is already definite. If, therefore, “I wrote,” not only admits, but even requires, the subjunction of a defining term or clause to render the time definite and precise, it cannot surely be itself a definite tense. Besides, they appear to me to reason in this case inconsistently with their own principles. For they call I am writing a definite tense; and why? but because it defines the action to be imperfect, or the time to be relatively present[59]. But if they reason here as they do in respect to the preterite tenses, they ought to call this an indefinite tense, because it admits not a definitive clause. They must, therefore, either acknowledge that I have written is a definite tense, and I wrote, indefinite; or they must, contrary to their own principles, call I am writing indefinite.

Dr. Arthur Browne, in an Essay on the Greek Tenses[60], contends, that I wrote is the perfect definite, and I have written the perfect indefinite. “I wrote,” says he, “is not intelligible without referring to some precise point of time, e.g. when I was in France. Why, then, does Dr. Beattie say[109] I wrote is indefinite, because it refers to no particular past time? No: it is indefinite because the verb in that tense does not define whether the action be complete or not complete. And why does he say, I have written is definite in respect of time? for it refers to no particular time at which the event happened. Put this example: A says to B, ‘I wish you would write to that man.’ ‘I have written to him,’ the sense is complete; the expression is not supposed to refer to any particular time, and does not necessarily elicit any further inquiry. But if B answers, ‘I wrote to him,’ he is of course supposed to have in his mind a reference to some particular time, and it naturally calls on A to ask when? It is not clear, then, that I wrote refers to some particular time, and cannot have been called indefinite, as Dr. Beattie supposes, from its not doing so?”

Dr. Browne’s argument is chargeable with inconsistency. He says, that because I have written elicits no farther inquiry, and renders the sense complete, it denotes no determinate time; and that I wrote refers to a particular time, prompting to farther inquiry. This at least I take to be the scope of his reasoning; for if it be not from their occasioning, or not occasioning, farther interrogation, that he deduces his conclusion concerning the nature of these tenses, his argument seems nothing but pure assertion. Now, so far from calling that a definite tense, which necessarily requires, as he himself states, a defining clause to specify the point of time, I should call it an indefinite tense. He admits that I wrote refers to time past in general, and that it requires some farther specification to render the time known, as I wrote yesterday. In this case, surely it is not the term wrote, but yesterday, which defines the precise time; the tense itself expressing nothing but past time in general.

For the same reason, if, as he acknowledges, I have written elicits no farther inquiry, it is an argument that the sense is complete, and the time sufficiently understood by the hearer. Besides, is it not somewhat paradoxical to say that a tense which renders farther explanation unnecessary, and the sense complete, thus satisfying the hearer, is indefinite? and that a tense which does not satisfy the hearer, but renders farther[110] inquiry necessary, is definite? This, to say the least, is somewhat extraordinary.

The observations of Lord Monboddo on this subject are not inapplicable to the point in question: I shall therefore transcribe them.

“There are actions,” says he, “which end in energy, and produce no work which remains after them. What shall we say of such actions? cannot we say, I have danced a dance, taken a walk, &c., and how can such actions be said in any sense to be present? My answer is, that the consequences of such actions, respecting the speaker, or some other person or thing, are present, and what these consequences are, appears from the tenor of the discourse. ‘I have taken a walk, and am much better for it.’ ‘I have danced a dance, and am inclined to dance no more.’”

The order of nature being maintained, as Mr. Harris observes, by a succession of contrarieties, the termination of one state of things naturally implies the commencement of its contrary. Hence this tense has been employed to denote an attribute the contrary to that which is expressed by the verb. Thus the Latins used vixit, “he hath lived,” to denote “he is dead;” fuit Ilium, “Troy has been,” to signify Troy is no more. A similar phraseology obtains in English; thus, “I have been young,” is equivalent to “now I am old.”

This tense, in respect to time, is the same as the last, but implies the imperfection of the action, and denotes its progression.

This tense, in respect to time, is more than past, and in respect to action is imperfect. It denotes that an action was going on, or in a state of progression, before another action took place, or before it was perfected; as, “I had been writing before you arrived.”

These compound tenses denote the futurity of an action indefinitely, without any reference to its completion. The meaning of the several persons has been already explained.

This tense agrees with the former in respect to time, but differs from it in this, that the former has no reference to the completion of the action, while the latter expresses its imperfection and progression.

This tense denotes that a future action will be perfected, before the commencement or completion of another action, or before a certain future time; as, “Before you can have an answer, I shall have written a second letter.” “By the time he shall have arrived, you will have conquered every difficulty.” In short, it denotes, that at some future time an action will be perfected.

As it has been a subject of great controversy among grammarians, what tenses should be called definite and what indefinite, I shall now offer a few observations which may serve to illustrate the point in question.

Duration, like space, is continuous and uninterrupted. It is divisible in idea only. It is past or future, merely in respect[112] to some intermediate point, which the mind fixes as the limit between the one and the other. Present time, in truth, does not exist, any more than a mathematical line can have breadth, or a mathematical point be composed of parts. This position has, indeed, been controverted by Dr. Beattie; but, in my judgment, without the shadow of philosophical argument[61]. Harris, Reid, and[113] several others, have incontrovertibly proved it. But though present time, philosophically speaking, has no existence, we find it convenient to assume a certain portion of the past and the future, as intermediate spaces between these extremes, and to consider these spaces as present; for example, the present day, the present week, the present year, the present century, though part of these several periods be past, and part to come. We speak of them, however, as present, as “this month,” “this year,” “this day.” Time being thus in its nature continuous, and past and future being merely relative terms, some, portion or point of time being conceived where the one begins and the other ends, it is obvious that all tenses indicative of any of these two general divisions must denote relative time, that is, time past or future, in relation to some conceived or assumed space; thus it may be past or future, in respect to the present hour, the present day, the present week.

Again. The term indefinite is applicable either to time or to action. It may, therefore, be the predicate of a tense denoting either that the precise time is left undetermined, or that the action specified is not signified, as either complete or imperfect. Hence the controversy has been partly verbal. Hence, also, the contending parties have seemed to differ, while, in fact, they were agreed; and, on the contrary, have seemed to accord, while their opinions were, in truth, mutually repugnant.

Dr. Browne confines the term to action only, and pleads the authority of Mr. Harris in his favour. It is true, indeed, that Mr. Harris calls those tenses definite which denote the beginning, the middle, or the perfection of an action: but it is obvious, from the most superficial examination of his theory, that he denominates the tenses definite or indefinite, not in respect to action, but to time. When, in the passage from Milton,

he considers “walk” as indefinite, is it in regard to action? No. “It is,” says he, “because they were walking, not at that instant only, but indefinitely, at any instant whatever.”[114] And when he terms, Thou shalt not kill, an indefinite tense, is it because it has no reference to the completion or the imperfection of the action? No; it is “because,” says he, “this means no particular future time, but is extended indefinitely to every part of time.” Besides, if Mr. Harris’s and Dr. Browne’s ideas coincide, how comes it that the one calls that a definite tense, which the other terms indefinite? This does not look like accordance in sentiment, or in the application of terms. Yet the tenses in such examples as these,

which Harris and Beattie properly call indefinite, Browne terms definite. Nay, he denominates them thus for the very reason for which the others call them indefinite, namely, because the sentiments are always true, and the time of their existence never perfectly past. So far in respect to Mr. Harris’s authority in favour of Browne, when he confines the terms definite and indefinite to action only[62].

But I forbear to prosecute this controversy further, or to point out the inaccuracies with which I apprehend many writers on this subject are chargeable. I therefore proceed to review and illustrate the doctrine of the tenses which I have already offered.

The present time being, as I have already observed, an assumed space, and of no definite extent, as it may be either the present minute, the present hour, the present month, the present year, all of which consist of parts, it follows that, as the present time is itself indefinite, having no real existence, but being an arbitrary conception of the mind, the tense significant of that time must be also indefinite. This, I conceive, must be sufficiently evident. Hence the present tense[115] not only admits, but frequently requires, the definitive now to limit the interval between past and future, or to note the precise point of time.

Time past and time future are conceived as infinitely more extended than the present. The tenses, therefore, significant of these two grand divisions of time, are also necessarily indefinite.

Again, an action may be expressed, either as finished, or as proceeding; or it may be the subject of affirmation, without any reference to either of these states. In English, to denote the continuation of the action we employ the present or imperfect participle; and to denote its completion we use the preterite or perfect participle. When neither is implied, the tenses significant of the three divisions of time, without any regard to the action as complete or imperfect, are uniformly employed.

The six following compound tenses are equally indefinite in point of time; but they denote either the completion or the progress of the action, and in this respect are definite.

The first is indefinite as to time and action. If I say, “I write,” it is impossible to ascertain by the mere expression, whether be signified, “I write now,” “I write daily,” or, “I am a writer in general.” It is the concomitant circumstances only, either expressed or understood, which can determine what part of the present time is implied. When Pope introduces a letter to Lady M. W. Montague with these words, “I write this after a severe illness,” is it the tense which[116] marks the time, or is it not the date of the letter, with which the writing is understood to be contemporary? If you and I should see a person writing, and either of us should say, “He writes,” the proposition would be particular, and time present with the speaker’s observation would be understood: but, is it not evident, that it is not the tense which defines the present now, but the obvious circumstances of the person’s writing at the time? And when the king, in Hamlet, says,

what renders the two first propositions particular, or confines the tenses to the time then present, while the last proposition is universally true, and the tense indefinite? Nothing, I conceive, but the circumstances of the speaker. Nay, does it not frequently happen, that we must subjoin the word now to this tense, in order to define the point of time? Did the tense of itself note the precise time, this definitive would in no case be necessary. If I say, “Apples are ripe,” the proposition, considered independently on adventitious circumstances, is general and indefinite. The time may be defined by adding a specific clause, as, “in the month of October;” or, if nothing be subjoined, the ellipsis is supplied either by the previous conversation, or in some other way, and the hearer understands, “are now ripe.” This tense, therefore, I consider as indefinite in point of time. That it is indefinite in regard to action, there can be no question.

This tense also is indefinite in respect to time. It derives its character as a tense from the verb am, which implies affirmation with time, either now, generally, or always. Mr. Harris calls it the present definite, as I have already remarked; and in regard to action it is clearly definite. It is this, and this only, which distinguishes it from the other present, I write, the latter having no reference to the perfection or imperfection of the action, while I am writing denotes its continuation. Hence it is, that the latter is employed to express propositions generally or universally true, the idea of perfection or incompletion being, in such cases,[117] excluded. Thus we say, The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but not, as I conceive, with equal propriety, The wicked are fleeing when no man is pursuing.

As I am writing denotes the present continuation of an action, so I have written expresses an action completed in a time supposed to be continued to the present, or an action whose consequences extend to the present time. As a tense, it derives its character from the tense I have, significant of present time; while the perfection of the action is denoted by the perfect participle. But as I have shown that every tense significant of present time must be, in regard to time, indefinite, so this tense, compounded of the present tense I have, must, in this respect, be therefore indefinite.

Lowth, Priestley, Beattie, Harris, and several others, have assigned it the name of the preterite definite, and I wrote they have termed the preterite indefinite. Browne, and one or two others, have reversed this denomination. Now, that I wrote does not of itself define what part of past time is specified, appears to me very evident. This is, indeed, admitted by those who contend for the definite nature of this tense. Why, then, do they call it a definite tense? Because, they say, it admits a definitive term, by the aid of which it expresses the precise time, as, “I wrote yesterday,” “a week ago,” “last month;” whereas we cannot say, “I have written yesterday.” Now, as I remarked before, this appears to me a perversion of language; for we do not denominate that term definite, which requires a definitive to render it precise. Why have the terms the, this, that, been called definitives? Is it because they admit a defining term? or is it not because they limit or define the import of general terms? I concur, therefore, with the author of the article “Aorist,” in the “Nouvelle Encyclopédie,” when he ridicules a M. Demandre for giving the character of definite to a tense which marks past time indefinitely. This certainly is a perversion of terms.

“When we make use of the auxiliary verb,” says Dr. Priestley, “we have no idea of any certain portion of time[118] intervening between the time of action and the time of speaking of it; the time of action being some period that extends to the present, as, ‘I have this year, this morning, written,’ spoken in the same year, the same morning; whereas, speaking of an action done in a period past, we use the preterite tense and say, ‘I wrote,’ intimating that a certain portion of time is past, between the time of action and the time of speaking of it.” To the same purpose nearly are the words of the author of the article “Grammar,” in the “Encyclopedia Britannica.” “I have written,” says he, “is always joined with a portion of time which includes the present now or instant; for otherwise it could not signify, as it always does, the present possession of the finishing of an action. But the aorist, which signifies no such possession, is as constantly joined with a portion of past time, which excludes the present now or instant. Thus we say, ‘I have written a letter this day,’ ‘this week,’ &c., but ‘I wrote a letter yesterday;’ and to interchange these expressions would be improper.”

The explanation which these grammarians have given of the tense I have written, appears to me perfectly correct, and I would add, that, though the interval between the time of action and the time of speaking of it may be considerable; yet, if the mind, in consequence of the effect’s being extended to the present time, should conceive no time to have intervened, this tense is uniformly employed.

That the aorist excludes the present instant is equally true: but that it is incapable of being joined, as the latter of these grammarians supposes, to a portion of time part of which is not yet elapsed, is an assertion by no means correct; for I can say, “I wrote to-day,” or “this day,” as well as, “I have written.” “I dined to-day,” says Swift, “with Mr. Secretary St. John.” “I took some good walks in the park to-day.” “I walked purely to-day about the park.” “I was this morning with Mr. Secretary about some business.” Numberless other examples might be produced in which this tense is joined with a portion of time not wholly elapsed.

What then, it may be asked, is the difference between this and the tense which is termed the preterite definite? I shall[119] endeavour to explain it, though, in doing this, I may be chargeable with repetition.

When an action is done in a time continuous to the present instant, we employ the auxiliary verb. Thus on finishing a letter I say, “I have written my letter,” “I possess (now) the finished action of writing a letter.”

Again: When an action is done in a space of time which the mind assumes as present, or when we express our immediate possession of things done in that space, we use the auxiliary verb. “I have this week written several letters.” “I have now the perfection of writing several letters, finished this week.”[63]

Again: When an action has been done long ago, but the mind is still in possession of its consequences, these having been extended to the present time, unconscious or regardless of the interval between the time of acting and the time of speaking, we use the auxiliary verb. Thus, “I, like others, have, in my youth, trifled with my health, and old age now prematurely assails me.” In all these cases, there is a clear reference to present time. I have must imply present possession, and that the action, either as finished or proceeding, is present to the speaker. This must be admitted, unless we suppose that the term have has no appropriate or determinate meaning.

On the other hand, the aorist excludes all idea of the present instant. It supposes an interval to have elapsed between the time of the action and the time of speaking of it; the action is represented as leaving nothing behind it which the mind conceives to have any relation to its present circumstances, as “Three days ago I lodged in the Strand.”

But, though it unquestionably excludes the present instant, or the moment of speaking, which the verb have embraces, yet it does not exclude that portion of present time which is represented as passing. All that is necessary to the use of this tense is, that the present now be excluded, that an interval have elapsed between the time of action and the time[120] of speaking of it, and that these times shall not appear to be continuous. When Swift says, “It has snowed terribly all night, and is vengeance cold,” it is to be observed, that though the former of these events took place in a time making no part of the day then passing, yet its effects extended to that day; he therefore employs the auxiliary verb. When he says, “I have been dining to-day at Lord Mountjoy’s, and am come home to study,” he, in like manner, connects the two circumstances as continuous.

But when he says, “It snowed all this morning, and was some inches thick in three or four hours,” it is to be observed that, contrary to the opinion of the author[64] I have quoted, he joins the aorist with a portion of time then conceived as present or passing, but the circumstances which had taken place were nowise connected with the time of his writing, or conceived as continuous to the date of his letter. If he had said, “It has snowed all this morning, and is now two inches thick,” the two times would have appeared as continuous, their events being connected as cause and effect.

The first of these, as a tense, has been already explained; it remains, therefore, to inquire, whether it be definite or indefinite in respect to action.

I observe, then, that a tense may frequently, by inference, denote the perfection of an action, and thus appear to be definite; though, in its real import, it be significant neither of completion nor imperfection, and therefore, in regard to action, is indefinite. This seems to be the character of the tenses, I write, I wrote, I shall write.

“Mr. Harris,” says Browne, “truly calls I wrote and I write indefinites, although the man who wrote, has written, that is, the action is perfected, and the man who writes, is writing, that is, the action is imperfect; but the perfection and imperfection, though it be implied, not being expressed, not being brought into view, (to do which the auxiliary verb is necessary,) nor intended to be so, such tenses are properly called indefinites.”

Though I am persuaded that Harris and Browne, though[121] they concur in designing certain tenses indefinite, are in principle by no means agreed, yet the observations of the latter, when he confines the terms to action, appear to me incontrovertible. I would only remark, that it is not the presence of the auxiliary, as Browne conceives, which is necessary to denote the completion of the action, but the introduction of the perfect participle. Nay, I am persuaded, that, as it is the participle in ing, and this only, which denotes the progression or continuation of the action, this circumstance in every other phraseology being inferred, not expressed, so I am equally convinced, that it is the perfect participle only which denotes the completion of the action; and that, if any tense not compounded of this participle, express the same idea, it is by inference, and not directly. According to this view of the matter, a clear and simple analogy subsists among the tenses; thus,

Now, if the progression or the perfection of an action, as present, past, or future, be all the possible variations, and if these be expressed by the second and third classes, it follows that, if there be any precise distinction between these and the first class, or unless the latter be wholly supernumerary, it differs in this from the second and third, that while they express, either that the action is progressive, or that it is complete, the first has no reference to its perfection, or imperfection.

This tense, like I wrote, is, in point of time, indefinite; but, in respect to action, it is definite. It denotes that an action was proceeding in a time past, which time must be defined by some circumstance expressed or understood.

This, as a tense, derives its character from the preterite of the verb to have, implying past possession. Had being an[122] aorist, this tense, in regard to time, must therefore be indefinite. In respect to action it is definite, implying, that the action was finished. As the aorist expresses time past, and by inference the perfection of the action, while the latter circumstance is additionally denoted by the participle, this compound tense is employed to denote, that an action was perfected before another action or event, now also past, took place.

The character of the remaining tenses seems to require no farther explanation. I proceed therefore to consider how we express interrogations, commands, necessity, power, liberty, will, and some other accessary circumstances.

An interrogation is expressed by placing the nominative after the concordant person of the tense; thus, “Thou comest” is an affirmation; “Comest thou?” is an interrogation. If the tense be compound, the nominative is placed after the auxiliary, as “Dost thou come?” “Hast thou heard?”

A command, exhortation, or entreaty, is expressed by placing the pronoun of the second person after the simple form of the verb; as,

and sometimes by the verb simply, the person being understood; as, write, run, be, let[65]. By the help of the word let,[123] which is equivalent to “permit thou,” or “permit ye,” we express the persons of the Latin and Greek imperatives; thus, let me, let us, let him, let them, write.

This verb having only one tense, namely, the present, past necessity is expressed by the preterite definite of the verb, significant of the thing necessary, as,

Could, the preterite of the verb can, expressing past power or ability, is, like the tense might of the verb may, frequently employed to denote present time. Of their denoting past time the following may serve as examples.

That they likewise denote present time, I have already adduced sufficient evidence. Might and could, being frequently used in conjunction with other verbs, to express present time, past liberty and ability are generally denoted by the latter phraseology; thus, “I might have written,” “I could have written.” Some farther observations respecting the nature of these tenses I purpose to make, when I come to consider what has been termed the subjunctive or conjunctive mood.

The same is expressed by the verb should. Ought being now always considered as a present tense, past duty is expressed by taking the preterite definitive of the following verb.

Having shown how most of the common accessary circumstances are signified in our language, I proceed to explain[125] how we express the circumstance of suffering, or being acted upon.

The manner of denoting this in English is simple and easy. All that is necessary is to join the verb to be with the present participle, if the state of suffering be imperfect or proceeding; and with the perfect participle, if it be complete; thus,

Neuter verbs, expressing neither action nor passion, admit, without altering their signification, either phraseology; thus, I have arisen, or I am arisen; I was come, or I had come.

I conclude this part of the subject with a few observations concerning the subjunctive or potential mood.

Various disputes have arisen respecting the existence and the use of this mood; nor is there, perhaps, any other point in grammar, on which respectable authorities are so much divided.

That there is not in English, as in Latin, a potential mood properly so called, appears to me unquestionable. Amarem signifies ability or liberty[67], involving the verbs possum and[126] licet, and may therefore be termed a potential mood; but in English these accessary circumstances are denoted by the preterites of the verbs may and can; as, I might or could love.

That there is no subjunctive mood, we have, I conceive, equal authority to assert. If I say in Latin, cum cepisset, “when he had taken,” the verb is strictly in the subjunctive mood; for, were not the verb subjoined to cum, it must have taken the indicative form; but I hesitate not to assert, that no example can be produced in English, where the indicative form is altered merely because the verb is preceded by some conjunctive particle. If we say, “though he were rich, he would not despise the poor,” was is not here turned into were because subjoined to though; for though is joined to the indicative mood, when the sentiment requires it; the verb therefore is not in the subjunctive mood.

In respect to what has been denominated the conditional form of the verb, I observe, that the existence of this form appears to me highly questionable. My reasons are these:

1st. Several of our grammarians have not mentioned it; among these are the celebrated Dr. Wallis, and the author of the British Grammar.

2dly. Those, who admit it, are not agreed concerning its extent. Lowth and Johnson confine it to the present tense, while Priestley extends it to the preterite.

3dly. The example which Priestley adduces of the conditional preterite, if thou drew, with a few others which might be mentioned, are acknowledged by himself to be so stiff and so harsh, that I am inclined to regard them rather as anomalies, than as constituting an authority for a general rule.

4thly. If then this form be, agreeably to the opinions of Lowth and Johnson, confined to the present tense, I must say that I have not been able to find a single example, in which the present conditional, as it is termed, is anything but an ellipsis of the auxiliary verb.

5thly. Those who admit this mood make it nothing but the plural number of the correspondent indicative tense without variation; as I love, thou love, he love, &c. Now as this is, in fact, the radical form of the verb, or what may be deemed the infinitive, as following an auxiliary, it forms a presumption[127] that it is truly an infinitive mood, the auxiliary being suppressed.

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,” (Bible) i.e. “though he should slay.”

“Though thou detain me, I will not eat,” (Ibid.) i.e. “shouldst detain me.”

“If thy brother trespass against thee,” (Ibid.) i.e. “should trespass.”

“Though he fall, he shall not utterly be cast down,” (Ibid.) i.e. “though he should fall.”

“Remember that thou keep holy the sabbath day,” (Ibid.) i.e. “thou shouldst keep.”

There are a few examples in the use of the auxiliaries do and have, in which, when the ellipsis is supplied, the expression appears somewhat uncouth; but I am persuaded that a little attention will show, that these examples form no exception to this theory.

“If now thou do prosper my way.”—Bible. It is here obvious, that the event supposed was future; the appropriate term, therefore, to express that idea, is either shall or will. If the phrase were, “if thou prosper my way,” it would be universally admitted that the auxiliary is suppressed, thus, “if thou shalt or wilt prosper my way.” Again, when we say, “if thou do it, I shall be displeased,” it is equally evident that the auxiliary is understood, thus, “if thou shalt do it.” Now, if these examples be duly considered, and if the import of the verb to do, as formerly explained, be remembered, I think it will appear that the expression is elliptical, and truly proceeds thus, “if thou (shalt) do prosper my way.” The same observations are applicable to Shakspeare’s phraseology, when he says, “if thou do pardon, whosoever pray.” Again; when Hamlet says, “if damned custom have not brazed it so,” it is obvious that the auxiliary verb may is understood; for, if the expression be cleared of the negative, the insertion of the auxiliary creates no uncouthness; thus, “if damned custom may have brazed it so.”

I am therefore inclined to think, that the conditional form, unless in the verb to be[68], has no existence in our language.

Though this be not strictly the proper place, I would beg the reader’s attention to a few additional observations.

Many writers of classic eminence express future and contingent events by the present tense indicative. In colloquial language, or where the other form would render the expression stiff and awkward, this practice cannot justly be reprehended. But where this is not the case, the proper form, in which the note of contingency or futurity is either expressed or understood, is certainly preferable. Thus,

“If thou neglectest, or doest unwillingly, what I command thee, I will rack thee with old cramps.”—Shakspeare. Better, I think, “if thou shalt neglect or do.”

“If any member absents himself, he shall forfeit a penny for the use of the club.”—Spectator. Better, “if any member absent, or shall absent.”

“If the stage becomes a nursery of folly and impertinence, I shall not be afraid to animadvert upon it.”—Spectator. Preferably thus, “If the stage become, or shall become.”

I observe also, that there is something peculiar and deserving attention in the use of the preterite tense[69]. To illustrate the remark, I shall take the following case. A servant calls on me for a book; if I am uncertain whether I have it or not, I answer, “if the book be in my library, or if I have the book, your master shall be welcome to it:” but if I am certain that I have not the book, I say, “if the book were in my library, or if I had the book, it should be at your master’s service.” Here it is obvious that when we use the present tense it implies uncertainty of the fact; and when we use the preterite, it implies a negation of its existence. Thus also, a person at night would say to his friend, “if it rain, you shall not go,” being uncertain at the time whether it did or did not rain; but if, on looking out, he perceived it did not rain, he would then say, “if it rained, you should not go,” intimating that it did not rain.

“Nay, and the villains march wide between the legs, as if[129] they had gyves on.”—Shakspeare. Where as if they had implies that “they had not.”

In the same manner, if I say, “I will go, if I can,” my ability is expressed as uncertain, and its dependent event left undetermined. But if I say, “I would go, if I could,” my inability is expressly implied, and the dependent event excluded. Thus also, when it is said, “if I may, I will accompany you to the theatre,” the liberty is expressed as doubtful; but when it is said, “if I might, I would accompany you,” the liberty is represented as not existing.

In thus expressing the negation of the attribute, the conjunction is often omitted, and the order inverted; thus, “if I had the book,” or “had I the book.” “Were I Alexander,” said Parmenio, “I would accept this offer;” or, “if I were Alexander, I would accept.” Were is frequently used for would be, and had for would have; as, “it were injustice to deny the execution of the law to any individual;” that is, “it would be injustice.” “Many acts, which had been blameable in a peaceable government, were employed to detect conspiracies;” where had is put for would have[70].—Hume’s History of England.

Ambiguity is frequently created by confounding fact with hypothesis, or making no distinction between dubitative and assertive phraseologies. Thus, if we employ such expressions as these, “if thou knewest,” “though he was learned,” not only to express the certainty of a fact, but likewise to denote a mere hypothesis as opposed to fact, we necessarily render the expression ambiguous. It is by thus confounding things totally distinct, that writers have been betrayed not into ambiguity only, but even into palpable errors. In evidence of this, I give the following example: “Though he were divinely inspired, and spoke therefore as the oracles of God, with supreme authority; though he were endowed with supernatural powers, and could, therefore, have confirmed the truth of what he asserted by miracles; yet in compliance with the way in which human nature and reasonable creatures[130] are usually wrought upon, he reasoned.”—Atterbury’s Sermons.

Here the writer expresses the inspiration and the supernatural powers of Jesus, not as properties or virtues which he really did possess, but which, though not possessing them, he might be supposed to possess. Now, as his intention was to ascribe these virtues to Jesus, as truly belonging to him, he should have employed the indicative form was, and not were, as in the following sentence: “though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor.” “Though he were rich,” would imply the non-existence of the attribute; in other words, “that he was not rich.”

A very little attention would serve to prevent these ambiguities and errors. If the attribute be conceived as unconditionally certain, the indicative form without ellipsis must be employed, as, “I teach,” “I had taught,” “I shall teach.” If futurity, hypothesis, or uncertainty, be intended, with the concessive term, the auxiliary may be either expressed or understood, as perspicuity may require, and the taste and judgment of the writer may dictate; thus, “if any man teach strange doctrines, he shall be severely rebuked.” In the former clause the auxiliary verb shall is unnecessary, and is therefore, without impropriety, omitted. “Then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of thy people Israel, that thou teach them the good way wherein they should walk.”—Bible. In this example the suppression of the auxiliary verb is somewhat unfavourable to perspicuity, and renders the clause stiff and awkward. It would be better, I think, “thou mayest teach them the good way.” Harshness, indeed, and the appearance of affectation, should be particularly avoided. Where there is no manifest danger of misconception, the use of the assertive for the dubitative form is far preferable to those starched and pedantic phraseologies which some writers are fond of exhibiting. For this reason, such expressions as the following appear to me highly offensive: “if thou have determined, we must submit;” “unless he have consented, the writing will be void;” “if this have been the seat of their original formation;” “unless thou shall speak, we cannot determine.” The last I consider[131] as truly ungrammatical. In such cases, if the dubitative phraseology should appear to be preferable, the stiffness and affectation here reprehended may frequently be prevented by inserting the note of doubt or contingency.

I observe farther, that the substitution of as for if when the affirmation is unconditional, will often serve to prevent ambiguity[71]. Thus, when the ant in the fable says to the grasshopper who had trifled away the summer in singing, “if you sung in summer, dance in winter;” as the first clause, taken by itself, leaves the meaning somewhat ambiguous, “as you sung,” would be the better expression.

IRREGULAR VERBS.

The general rule for the formation of the preterite tense, and the perfect participle, is to add to the present the syllable ed, if the verb end with a consonant, or d, if it end with a vowel, as

Verbs, which depart from this rule, are called irregular, of which I believe the subsequent enumeration to be nearly complete[72].

DEFECTIVE VERBS.

These, as Lowth observes, are generally not only defective, but also irregular, and are chiefly auxiliary verbs.

OF IMPERSONAL VERBS.

The distinctive character of impersonal verbs has been a subject of endless dispute among grammarians. Some deny their existence in the learned languages, and others as positively assert it. Some define them to be verbs devoid of the two first persons; but this definition is evidently incorrect: for, as Perizonius and Frischlinus observe, this may be a reason for calling them defective, but not for naming them impersonal verbs. Others have defined them to be verbs, to which no certain person, as the subject, can be prefixed. But with the discussion of this question, as it respects[141] the learned languages, the English grammarian has no concern. I proceed, therefore, to observe, that impersonal verbs, as the name imports, are those which do not admit a person as their nominative. Their real character seems to be, that they assert the existence of some action or state, but refer it to no particular subject. In English we have very few impersonal verbs. To this denomination, however, may certainly be referred, it behoveth, it irketh; equivalent to, it is the duty, it is painfully wearisome. That the former of these verbs was once used personally, we have sufficient evidence; and it is not improbable that the latter also was so employed, though I have not been able to find an example of its junction with a person. They are now invariably used as impersonal verbs. We cannot say, I behove, thou behovest, he behoves; we irk, ye irk, they irk.

There are one or two others, which have been considered as impersonal verbs, in which the personal pronoun in the objective case is prefixed to the third person singular of the verb, as methinks, methought, meseems, meseemed; analogous to the Latin expressions me pœnitet, me pœnituit. You thinketh, him liketh, him seemeth, have long been entirely obsolete. Meseems and meseemed occur in Sidney, Spenser, and other contemporary writers; but are now universally disused. Addison sometimes says methoughts, contrary, I conceive, to all analogy.

An adverb is that part of speech which is joined to a verb, adjective, or other adverb, to express some circumstance, quality, degree, or manner of its signification; and hence adverbs have been termed attributives of the second order.

“As the attributives hitherto mentioned,” says Mr. Harris, “viz. adjective and verb, denote the attributes of substances, so there is an inferior class of them, which denote the attributes only of attributes. If I say, ‘Cicero was eloquent,’ I ascribe to him the attribute of eloquence simply and absolutely; if I say, ‘he was exceedingly eloquent,’ I affirm an eminent degree of eloquence, the adverb exceedingly denoting that degree. If I say, ‘he died, fighting bravely for his country,’ the word bravely here added to the verb denotes the manner of the action.” An adverb is, therefore, a word joined to a verb, or any attributive, to denote some modification, degree, or circumstance, of the expressed attribute.

Adverbs have been divided into a variety of classes, according to their signification. Some of those which denote

On inquiring into the meaning and etymology of adverbs, it will appear, that most of them are abbreviations or contractions for two or more words. Thus, bravely, or “in a brave manner,” is probably derived by abbreviation from brave-like, wisely from wise-like, happily from happy-like[109]. Mr. Tooke,[144] indeed, has proved, as I conceive incontrovertibly, that most of them are either corruptions of other words, or abbreviations of phrases or of sentences. One thing is certain, that the adverb is not an indispensable part of speech, as it serves merely to express in one word what perhaps would otherwise require two or more words. Thus,

A preposition has been defined to be “that part of speech which shows the relation that one thing bears to another.” According to Mr. Harris, it is a part of speech devoid itself of signification, but so formed as to unite words that are significant, and that refuse to unite or associate of themselves. He has, therefore, compared them to pegs or pins, which serve to unite those parts of the building which would not, by their own nature, incorporate or coalesce. When one considers the formidable objections which present themselves to this theory, and that the ingenious author now quoted has, in defence of it, involved himself in palpable contradictions, it becomes matter of surprise that it should have so long received from grammarians an almost universal and implicit assent. This furnishes one of many examples, how easily error may be imposed and propagated by the authority of a great name. But, though error may be repeatedly transmitted from age to age, unsuspected and unquestioned, it cannot be perpetuated. Mr. Horne Tooke has assailed this theory by irresistible arguments, and demonstrated that, in our language at least, prepositions are significant of ideas, and that, as far as import is concerned, they do not form a distinct species of words.

It is not, indeed, easy to imagine, that men, in the formation of any language, would invent words insignificant, and to which, singly, they attached no determinate idea; especially when it is considered, that, in every stage of their existence, from rudeness to civilization, new words would perpetually be wanting to express new ideas. It is not, therefore, probable that, while they were under the necessity of framing new words, to answer the exigences of mental enlargement, and while these demands on their invention were incessantly recurring, they would, in addition to this, encumber themselves[146] with the idle and unnecessary task of forming new words to express nothing.

But, in truth, Harris himself yields the point, when he says, that prepositions, when compounded, transfuse something of their meaning into the compound; for they cannot transfuse what they do not contain, nor impart what they do not possess. They must, therefore, be themselves significant words.

But it is not so much their meaning with which the grammarian is concerned, as their syntactical character, their capacity of affecting other words, or being affected by them. In both these lights, however, I propose to consider them.

The name of preposition has been assigned to them, because they generally precede their regimen, or the word which they govern. What number of these words ancient and modern languages contain, has been much disputed; some grammarians determining a greater and some a less number. This, indeed, of itself affords a conclusive proof that the character of these words has not been clearly understood; for, in the other parts of speech, noun, adjective, and verb, the discriminative circumstances are so evident, that no doubt can arise concerning their classification.

That most of our English prepositions have signification per se, and form no distinct species of words, Mr. Tooke has produced incontrovertible evidence: nor is it to be doubted, that a perfect acquaintance with the Northern languages would convince us, that all of them are abbreviations, corruptions, or combinations of other words. A few of Mr. Tooke’s examples I shall now present to the reader.

Many other examples might be produced from Tooke’s ingenious illustration of his theory; but those which I have now offered suffice to prove, that our prepositions, so far from being words insignificant, belong to the class of nouns or verbs either single or compounded.

Besides, if prepositions denote relations, as Harris admits, it is surely absurd to suppose, that they have no meaning; for the relation, whether of propinquity, contiguity, approach, or regress, &c., may be expressed, and apprehended by the mind, though the objects between which the relation subsists be not specified. If I hear the word with, I naturally conceive the idea of conjunction; the reverse takes place when I hear without. If it be said a soldier with, I have the idea of a soldier associated with something else, which association is denoted by with. What is conjoined to him I know not, till the object be specified, as, “a soldier with a musquet;” but the mere association was before sufficiently expressed, and clearly apprehended. Again, if a person say, “he threw a glass under,” I have instantly an idea of a glass, and of inferiority of place, conceiving a glass removed into a situation lower than something else. To ascertain that something, I ask, under what? and the answer may be, under the table. Now, if under had no meaning, this question would be insignificant, or rather impossible.

From the examples given, I trust the young reader sufficiently understands the difference between the doctrine of Harris on this subject, and that of Horne Tooke; nay, I think, he must perceive, that the former is merely a theory,[149] while the latter is supported by reason and fact. The syntax of our prepositions will be afterwards explained. I shall only observe at present, that the words which are in English considered as prepositions, and joined to the objective case are these:

Some of these, though they are commonly joined to an objective case, and may therefore be deemed prepositions, are, notwithstanding, of an equivocal character, resembling the Latin adverbs procul and prope, which govern a case by the ellipsis of a preposition. Thus we say, “near the house” and “near to the house,” “nigh the park,” and “nigh to the park,” “off the table,” and “off from the table.”

Several are used as adverbs, and also as prepositions, no ellipsis being involved, as, till, until, after, before.

There are certain particles, which are never found single or uncompounded, and have therefore been termed inseparable prepositions. Those purely English are, a, be, fore, mis, un. The import of these, and of a few separable prepositions when prefixed to other words, I proceed to explain.

The Latin prepositions used in the composition of English words are these, ab or abs, ad, ante, con, circum, contra, de, di, dis, e or ex, extra, in, inter, intro, ob, per, post, præ, pro, præter, re, retro, se, sub, subter, super, trans.

The Greek prepositions and particles compounded with English words are, a, amphi, anti, hyper, hypo, meta, peri, syn.

A conjunction has been defined to be “that part of speech which connects words and sentences together.”

Mr. Ruddiman, and several other grammarians, have asserted, that conjunctions never connect words, but sentences. This is evidently a mistake; for if I say, “a man of wisdom and virtue is a perfect character,” it implies not “that a man of wisdom is a perfect character, and a man of virtue a perfect character,” but “a man who combines wisdom and virtue.” The farther discussion of this question, however, I shall at present postpone, as it will form a subject of future inquiry.

Conjunctions have been distributed, according to their significations, into different classes:

This distribution of the conjunctions I have given, in conformity to general usage, that the reader may be acquainted with the common terms by which conjunctions have been denominated, if these terms should occur to him in the course of reading. In respect to the real import, and genuine character of these words, I decidedly adopt the theory of Mr. Tooke, which considers conjunctions as no distinct species of words, but as belonging to the class of attributives, or as abbreviations for two or more significant words.

Agreeably to his theory, and is an abbreviation for anad,[154] the imperative of ananad, “to add,” or “to accumulate;” as, “two and two make four;” that is, “two, add two, make four.” Either is evidently an adjective expressive of “one of two;” thus, “it is either day or night,” that is, “one of the two, day or night.” It is derived from the Saxon ægther, equivalent to uterque, “each.”[114]

Or is a contraction for other, a Saxon and English adjective equivalent to alius or alter, and denotes diversity, either of name or of subject. Hence or is sometimes a perfect disjunctive, as when it expresses contrariety or opposition of things; and sometimes a subdisjunctive, when it denotes simply a diversity in name. Thus, when we say, “It is either even or odd,” or is a perfect disjunctive, the two attributives being directly contrary, and admitting no medium. If I say, “Paris or Alexander” (these being names of the same individual); or if I say, “Gravity or weight,” “Logic, or the art of reasoning;” or in these examples is a subdisjunctive or an explicative, as it serves to define the meaning of the preceding term, or as it expresses the equivalence of two terms. The Latins express the former by aut, vel, and the latter by seu or sive. In the following sentence both conjunctions are exemplified: “Give me either the black or the white;” i.e. “Give me one of the two—the black—other, the white.”

To these are opposed neither, nor, as, “Give me neither poverty nor riches;” i.e. “Give me not one of the two, poverty—nor, i.e. not the other, riches.”

According to Mr. Tooke, the conjunction if is the imperative of the Anglo-Saxon and Gothic verb gifan, “to give.” Among others, he quotes the following example. “How will the weather dispose of you to-morrow? If fair, it will send me abroad; if foul, it will keep me at home”—i.e. “Give,” or “grant it to be fair;” “give,” or “grant it to be foul.”

Though is the same as thaf, an imperative from thafan, to allow, and is in some parts of the country pronounced thof; as, “Though he should speak truth, I would not believe him;” i.e. “allow or grant, what? he should speak truth,” or “allow his speaking truth, I would not believe him.”

But, from beutan, the imperative of beon utan, to be out, is the same as without or unless, there being no difference between these in respect to meaning. Grammarians, however, in conformity to the distinction between nisi and sine, have called but a conjunction, and without a preposition. But, therefore, being a word signifying exception or exclusion, I have not termed it an “adversative,” as most grammarians have, but an “exceptive.” In this sense it is synonymous with præter, præterquam, or nisi; thus, “I saw nobody but John,” i.e. “unless,” or “except John.”

But, from bot, the imperative of botan, to boot or superadd, has a very different meaning. This word was originally written bot, and was thus distinguished from but[115]. They are now written alike, which tends to create confusion. The meaning of this word is, “add,” or, “moreover.” This interpretation is confirmed by the probable derivation and meaning of synonymous words in other languages. Thus, the French mais (but) is from majus, or magis, “more,” or “in addition;” the Italian ma, the Spanish mas, and the Dutch maar, are from the same etymon, signifying “more.” And it is not improbable, that adsit (be it present, or be it added) by contraction became ast and at: thus, adsit, adst, ast, at. In this sense but is synonymous with at, autem, cæterum, “moreover,” or “in addition.”

It is justly observed by Mr. Tooke, that bot or but allays or mitigates a good or bad precedent, by the addition of something; for botan means “to superadd,” “to supply,” “to atone for,” “to compensate,” “to add something more,” “to make amends,” or “make up deficiency.” Thus,

When but means be out, or without, it should, says Mr. Tooke, be preceded by a negative; thus, instead of saying, “I saw but John,” which means, “I saw John be out,” we should say, “I saw none but John,” i.e. “none, John be out,” or “had John been out,” or, “John being excluded.” This, observes the ingenious author, is one of the most faulty ellipses in our language, and could never have obtained, but through the utter ignorance of the meaning of the word but (bot).

Still, from stell or steall, the imperative of stellan, ponere, “to suppose.”

Horne Tooke observing that these words, like if and an[116], are synonymous, accounts for their equivalence by supposing them to be derived from verbs of the same import. His mode of derivation, however, appears at first hearing to be incorrect: the meaning of the conjunctions have little or no affinity to that of the verbs. Mr. Tooke himself does not seem perfectly satisfied with its truth. Both these conjunctions are synonymous with “notwithstanding,” “nevertheless;” terms, the obvious meaning of which does not accord with verbs denoting “to get,” or “to suppose.” I am inclined, however, to think that Tooke’s conjecture is founded in truth. If I say, “he was learned, yet modest,” it may be expressed, “he was learned, notwithstanding this, or this being granted, even thus, or be it so (licet ita esset) he was modest;” where the general incompatibility between learning and modesty is conceived, not expressed, the expression denoting merely the combination of the qualities in the individual mentioned. Notwithstanding indirectly marks the repugnance, by signifying that the one quality did not prevent the co-existence of the other; yet or still supposes the incompatibility to be sufficiently[157] known. This derivation is rendered the more probable, as the word though (thof, grant) may be substituted to express the same idea, as “though (grant) he was learned, he was modest;” which is equivalent to “he was learned, yet (this granted) he was modest.” Hence many repeat the concessive term, and say, “though he was learned, yet he was modest.”

Unless. Mr. Horne Tooke is of opinion that this exceptive conjunction is properly onles, the imperative of the verb onlesan, to dismiss; thus, “you cannot be saved unless you believe;” i.e. “dismiss your believing, and you cannot be saved,” or, “you cannot be saved, your believing being dismissed.”

Lest is contracted for lesed, the participle of the same verb, onlesan or lesan, signifying “dismissed;” as, “Young men should take care to avoid bad company, lest their morals be corrupted, and their reputation ruined;” that is, “Young men should take care to avoid bad company, lest (this being dismissed, or omitted) their morals be corrupted,” &c.

That is evidently in all cases an adjective, or, as some consider it, a demonstrative pronoun; as, “They say that the king is arrived;” “They say that (thing) the king is arrived.”

Whether is an adjective, denoting “which of two;” thus, “Whether he live or die;” that is, “Which of the two things, he live or die.”

Than, which Mr. Tooke does not seem to have noticed, is supposed to be a compound of the definitive tha, and the additive termination, en, thus, tha en, thænne, then, and now spelled than[117].

These few examples will serve to explain Mr. Tooke’s theory on this subject; and I am persuaded, that the further we investigate the etymology and real import of conjunctions, the more probable will it appear that they are all nouns or attributives, some belonging to kindred languages, and others compounds or abbreviations in our own. I am persuaded, also, that from a general review of this subject, it must be evident that adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions, form no distinct species of words, and that they are all reducible to the class either of nouns or attributives, if their original character and real import be considered. But, as many of them are derived from obsolete words in our own language, or from words in kindred languages, the radical meanings of which are, therefore, either obscure, or generally unknown—and as the syntactical use of several of them has undergone a change—it can be no impropriety, nay, it is even convenient, to regard them not in their original character, but their present use. When the radical word still remains, the case is different. Thus except is by some considered as a preposition; but as the verb to except is still in use, except may, and indeed should, be considered as the imperative of the verb[118]. But in parsing, to say that the word unless is[159] the imperative of the verb onlesan, “to dismiss,” that verb belonging to a different language, would serve only to perplex and to confound, were it even true that the etymology is correct. For this reason, though I perfectly concur with Mr. Tooke as to the proper and original character of these words, I have distributed them under the customary head of prepositions, adverbs, and conjunctions.

An interjection has been defined to be, “that part of speech which denotes some affection or emotion of the mind.” It is clearly not a necessary part of speech; for, as Tooke observes, interjections are not to be found in books of history, philosophy, or religion: they occur in novels only, or dramatic compositions. Some of these are entirely instinctive and mechanical, as, ha! ha! ha! sounds common to all men, when agitated with laughter. These physical emissions of sound have no more claim to be called parts of speech than the neighing of a horse, or the lowing of a cow. There are others which seem arbitrary, and are expressive of some emotion, not simply by the articulation, but by the accompanying voice or gesture. Grief, for example, is expressed in English by the word ah! or oh! in Latin by oi, ei! and in Greek by οἶ, οἶ, αἶ, αἶ! Here the sounds are not instinctive, or purely mechanical, as in laughing; but the accompanying tone of voice, which is the same in all men, under the influence of the same emotion, indicates clearly the feeling or passion of the speaker. Others, which have been deemed interjections, are, in truth, verbs or nouns, employed in the rapidity of thought and expression, and under the influence of strong emotion, to denote, what would otherwise require more words to express: as, strange! for it is strange; adieu! for I recommend you to God; shame! for it is shame; welcome! for you are welcome.

The words which have been considered by our English grammarians as interjections, are the following, expressive of

Syntax is the arrangement of words in sentences or phrases, agreeably to established usage, or to the received rules of concord and government.

A simple sentence consists of only one member, containing therefore but one subject, and one finite verb, as, “Alexander the Great is said to have wept.”

A complex sentence consists of two or more members, as, “Alexander, when he had conquered the world, is said to have wept, because there were not other worlds to subdue.”

Complex sentences are divided into members; and these, if complex, are subdivided into clauses, as, “The ox knoweth his owner | and the ass his master’s crib || but Israel doth not know | my people doth not consider.” This complex sentence has two members, each of which contains two clauses.

When a member of a complex sentence is simple, it is called indifferently a member, or a clause; as, “I have called, but ye have refused.” The two parts, into which this sentence divides itself, are termed each either a member or a clause.

When a complex sentence is so framed, that the meaning is suspended till the whole be finished, it is called a period; otherwise the sentence is said to be loose. The following sentence is an example of a period: “If Hannibal had not wintered at Capua, by which circumstance his troops were enervated, but had, on the contrary, after the battle of Cannæ, proceeded to Rome, it is not improbable that the great city would have fallen.”

The criterion of a period is, that you cannot stop before you reach the end of the sentence, otherwise the sentence is incomplete. The following is an example of a loose sentence. “One party had given their whole attention during several years, to the project of enriching themselves, and impoverishing the rest of the nation; and, by these and other means, of establishing their dominion, under the government, and with the favour of a family, who were foreigners: and therefore might believe, they were established on the throne, by the good-will and strength of this party alone.” In this sentence you may stop at the words themselves, nation, dominion, government, or foreigners; and these pauses will severally complete the construction, and conclude perfect sentences. Thus, in a period, the dependence of the members is reciprocal; in a loose sentence, the preceding are not necessarily dependent on the subsequent members; whereas the following entirely depend on those which are antecedent. The former possesses more strength, and greater majesty; hence it is adapted to the graver subjects of history, philosophy, and religion. The latter is less artificial, and approaches nearer to the style of conversation; hence it is suited to the gayer and more familiar subjects of tales, dialogues, and epistolary correspondence.

Concord is the agreement of one word with another, in case, gender, number, or person; thus, “I love.” Here I is the pronoun singular of the first person, and the verb is likewise in the first person, and singular number; they agree therefore in number and person.

Government is the power which one word hath over another in determining its state; thus, “he wounded us.” In this sentence, wounded is an active transitive verb, and governs the pronoun in the objective case.

where we and teach are each plural, and of the first person; he and learns are each singular, and of the third person.

Rule II.—Two or more substantives singular, denoting different things, being equivalent to a plural, take a plural verb; or, when two or more substantives singular are collectively subjects of discourse, they require a plural verb, and plural representatives, as, “Cato and Cicero were learned men; and they loved their country.”

Rule III.—When, of two or more substantives singular, one exclusively is the subject of discourse, a verb singular is required, as, “John, James, or Andrew, intends to accompany you;” that is, one of the three, but not more than one.

Rule IV.—Nouns of number, or collective nouns, may have a singular or plural verb, thus,

Rule V.—The adjectives this and that agree with their substantives in number, as,

Rule VI.—The article a or an is joined to nouns of the singular number only, or nouns denoting a plurality of things in one aggregate, as,

Rule VII.—Substantives signifying the same thing agree in case, thus, “I, George the Third, king of Great Britain, defender of the faith.” The words I, George, king, defender, are all considered as the nominative case. “The chief of the princes, he who defied the bravest of the enemy, was assassinated by a dastardly villain:” where the pronoun he agrees in case with the preceding term chief. This rule, however, may be deemed unnecessary, as all such expressions are elliptical; thus, “the chief of the princes was assassinated,” “he was assassinated.” “He was the son of the Rev. Dr. West, perhaps him who published Pindar at Oxford.”—Johnson’s Life of West. That is, “the son of him.” Were the pronoun in the nominative case, it would refer to the son, and not the father, and thus convey a very different meaning.

Rule VIII.—One substantive governs another, signifying a different thing, in the genitive, as,

Rule IX.—Pronouns agree with their antecedents, or the nouns which they represent, in gender, number, and person, as, “They respected Cato and his party,” where Cato is singular and masculine, and his agrees with it in gender and number. “He addressed you[186] and me, and desired us to follow him,” where us sylleptically represents the two persons. “Thou, who writest.” Here the antecedent thou being a person, the relative who, not which, is employed. The antecedent also being of the second person and singular number, the relative is considered as of the same character, and is therefore followed by the verb in the second person and singular number. “Vice, which no man practises with impunity, proved his destruction.” Here the antecedent vice not being a person, the pronoun which, of the neuter gender, is therefore employed. “The rivers, which flow into the sea.” Here also the antecedent not being a person, the relative is which. It is also considered as in the plural number; and, as all substantives are joined to the third person, which, the representative of rivers, is joined to the third person plural of the verb.

Rule X.—If no nominative intervene between the relative and the verb, the relative shall be the nominative to the verb, as, “Solomon, who was the son of David, built the temple of Jerusalem.” Here who is the nominative to the verb was.

Rule XI.—But, if a nominative intervene between the relative and the verb, the relative shall be under the government of the preposition going before, or the noun or verb following, as, “God, whom we worship, is the Lord, by whose gift we live, and by whom all things were made.” In the first relative clause, where we is[190] the intervening nominative, the relative is in the objective case, and governed by the verb following: in the second clause, where the intervening nominative is likewise we, the relative is in the genitive case, and governed by the noun following, thus, “by whose gift,” or “by the gift of whom;” and in the third clause, where things is the intervening nominative, the relative is in the objective case, and governed by the preposition.

Rule XII.—An active transitive verb governs the accusative or objective case, as,

Rule XIII.—Verbs signifying to ask, teach, offer, promise, pay, tell, allow, deny, and some others of like signification, are sometimes, especially in colloquial language, followed in the passive voice by an objective case.

Rule XIV.—The verb to be has the same case after it as it has before it, thus denoting that the subjects are identical, or that the one term is the predicate of the other, as, “It is he,” “You believed it to be him.” In the former example, it is the nominative to the verb, the nominative case he therefore follows the[194] verb. In the latter, it is the regimen of the verb believed, the verb to be is therefore followed by the objective case.

Rule XV.—When two verbs come together, the attribute signified by the one verb being the subject or object of the action, energy, or affection expressed by the other, the former is governed in the infinitive[195] mood, as, “he taught me to read,” “I knew him to be.”

Rule XVI.—The imperative, agreeably to the general rule, agrees with its nominative, as,

Rule XVIII.—A noun or pronoun joined to a participle, its case being dependent on no word in the sentence, is put in the nominative.

Rule XIX.—Prepositions are joined with the objective case, or govern nouns and pronouns in the accusative, as, “he ran to me,” “he was loved by us.”

Rule XXII.—Derivatives are generally construed like their primitives; as, “it was a happy thing for this country, that the Pretender was defeated;” or “happily for this country the Pretender was defeated.” Thus also, “to compare with,” and “in comparison with riches;”—“to depend on,” and his “dependence on the court.”

Rule XXIII.—One negative destroys another; or two negatives are equivalent to an affirmative; as, “nor have I no money, which I can spare;” that is, “I have money, which I can spare.”—“Nor was the king unacquainted with his designs;” that is, “he was acquainted.”

Rule XXIV.—Interjections are joined with the objective case of the pronoun of the first person, and with the nominative of the pronoun of the second, as, “ah me,” “oh me,” “ah thou wretch,” “O thou who dwellest.”

CHAPTER I.
CANONS OF CRITICISM.

Having explained and illustrated the etymology and syntax of the English language, as fully as the limits, which I have prescribed to myself, will permit, I would now request the reader’s attention to some additional observations.

The grammar of every language is merely a compilation of those general principles, or rules, agreeably to which that language is spoken. When I say, a compilation of rules, I would not be understood to mean, that the rules are first established, and the language afterwards modelled in conformity to these. The very reverse is the fact: language is antecedent to grammar. Words are framed and combined to express sentiment, before the grammarian can enter on his province. His sole business is, not to dictate forms of speech, or to prescribe law to our modes of expression; but, by observing the modes previously established, by remarking their similarities and dissimilarities, his province is to deduce and explain the general principles, and the particular forms, agreeably to which the speakers of that language express themselves. The philosopher does not determine by what laws the physical and moral world should be governed; but, by the careful observation and accurate comparison of the various phenomena presented to his view, he deduces and ascertains the general principles, by which the system is regulated. The province of the grammarian seems precisely similar. He is a mere digester and compiler, explaining what are the modes of speech, not dictating what they should be. He can neither assign to any word a meaning different from that which custom has annexed to it; nor can he alter a phraseology, to which universal suffrage has given[225] its sanction. Usage is, in this case, law; usage quem penes arbitrium est, et jus et norma loquendi. If it were now the practice to say, “I loves,” instead of “I love,” the former phraseology would rest on the same firm ground, on which the latter now stands; and “I love,” would be as much a violation of the rules of grammar, or, which is the same thing, of established usage, as “I loves” is at present. Regula est, quæ rem, quæ est, breviter enarrat; non ut ex regula jus sumatur, sed ex jure, quod est, regula fiat.—Paul. Leg. 1, de Reg. Jur.

Having said thus much to prevent misconception, and to define the proper province of the grammarian, I proceed to observe, that this usage, which gives law to language, in order to establish its authority, or to entitle its suffrage to our assent, must be, in the first place, reputable.

The vulgar in this, as in every other country, are, from their want of education, necessarily illiterate. Their native language is known to them no farther, than is requisite for the most common purposes of life. Their ideas are few, and consequently their stock of words poor and scanty. Nay, their poverty, in this respect, is not their only evil. Their narrow competence they abuse and pervert. Some words they misapply, others they corrupt; while many are employed by them, which have no sanction, but provincial or local authority. Hence the language of the vulgar, in one province, is sometimes hardly intelligible in another. Add to this, that debarred by their occupations from study, or generally averse to literary pursuits, they are necessarily strangers to the scientific improvements of a cultivated mind; and are therefore entirely unacquainted with that diction, which concerns the higher attainments of life. Ignorant of any general principles respecting language, to which they may appeal; unable to discriminate between right and wrong; prone therefore to adopt whatever usage casual circumstances may present; it is no wonder, if the language of the vulgar be a mixture of incongruity and error, neither perfectly consistent with itself, nor to themselves universally intelligible. Their usage, therefore, is not the standard, to which we must appeal for decisive authority;[226] a usage so discordant and various, that we may justly apply to it the words of a celebrated critic,

The question then is, what is reputable usage? On this subject philologists have been divided. Dr. Campbell appears to me to decide judiciously, when he says, that the usage, to which we must appeal, is not that of the court, or of great men, nor even of authors of profound science, but of those, whose works are esteemed by the public, and who may, therefore, be denominated reputable authors. By referring to their practice, he appeals to a standard less equivocal, than if he had resorted to the authority of good writers; for, as he justly observes, there may be various opinions respecting the merits of authors, when there may be no disagreement concerning the rank which they hold in the estimation of the public; and, because it is the esteem of the public, and not their intrinsic merit, (though these go generally hand in hand,) that raises them to distinction, and stamps a value on their language. Besides, it is to be observed, that consummate knowledge is not always accompanied with a talent for communicating it: hence the sentiment may be confessedly valuable, while the language is regarded as of no authority.

This usage must be, in the second place, national. It must not be confined to this or that province; it must not be the usage of this or that district, the peculiarities of which are always ridiculous, and frequently unintelligible beyond its own limits; but it must be the general language of the country, intelligible everywhere, and in no place ridiculous. And, though the variety of dialects may collectively form a greater number of authorities than national usage can boast, taken singly they are much fewer. Those, to use Campbell’s apposite similitude, who deviate from the beaten road, may be incomparably more numerous than those who travel in it; yet, into whatever number of by-paths the former may be divided, there may not be found in any one of these tracks so many as travel in the king’s highway.

In the third place, this usage must be present. Here it may be asked, what is meant by present usage? Is it the[227] usage of the present year, the present age, or the present century? How is it defined, or by what boundary is it limited? In short, how far may we revert in search of decisive authority? may we go back, for example, as far as Chaucer, or must we stop at the age of Addison?

In determining this matter, the same learned and judicious critic observes, that regard must be had to the species of composition and the nature of the subject. Poetry is properly allowed a greater latitude than prose; and therefore, a word, which in prose we should reject as a barbarism, may, with strict propriety, be admitted in verse. Here, also, there are limits which must not be passed; and, perhaps, any word, which cannot plead the authority of Milton, or of any contemporary or later poet, may be justly regarded as obsolete. In prose, no word, unless the subject be art or science, should be employed, which has been disused for a period greater than the age of man. This is the judgment of the same critic. Against this answer, indeed, it is possible to raise a thousand cavils; and, perhaps, we shall be reminded of the poet’s strictures on the term ancient in his days[134]. One thing, however, is certain, that, though it be difficult to fix a precise limit, where the authority of precedent terminates, and legislative usage commences, or to define with precision the age of man, it must be acknowledged, that there are limits, in respect to usage, which we must not overleap, as there is a certain term, which the life of man cannot surpass.

As there is a period, beyond which precedent in language ceases to have authority; so, on the contrary, the usage of the present day is not implicitly to be adopted. Mankind are fond of novelty; and there is a fashion in language, as there[228] is in dress. Whim, vanity, and affectation, delight in creating new words. Of these, the far greater part soon sink into contempt. They figure for a little, like ephemeral productions, in tales, novels, and fugitive papers; and are shortly consigned to degradation and oblivion. Now, to adopt every new-fangled upstart at its birth, would argue not taste, nor judgment, but childish fondness for singularity and novelty. On the contrary, if any of these should maintain its ground, and receive the sanction of a reputable usage, to reject it, in this case, would be to resist that authority, to which every critic and grammarian must bow with submission. The term mob, for example, was, at its introduction, zealously opposed by Dean Swift. His resistance, however, was ineffectual; and to reject it now would betray prudish affectation, and fruitless perversity. The word inimical, previously to the American war, could, I believe, plead, in its favour, only one authority. In some dictionaries, accordingly it was omitted; and in others stigmatized as a barbarism. It has now obtained a permanent establishment, and is justly admitted by every lexicographer.

In short, in this, as in every other question on this subject, perspicuity should be our guide. If the subject be art or science, or if the composition be intended for literary men, then a greater latitude may be allowed, as the reader is supposed to be master of the language, in all its varieties. But if the subject be accommodated to common capacity, and the composition designed for ordinary readers, the rule now given, not to employ a word, which has been disused for a period greater than the age of man, will be deemed, I conceive, rational and necessary.

The usage, then, which gives law to language, and which is generally denominated “good usage,” must be reputable, national, and present. It happens, however, that “good usage” is not always uniform in her decisions, and that unquestionable[229] authorities are found for different modes of expression. In such cases, the following canons, proposed by the same author, will be of considerable service, in enabling the reader to decide, to which phraseology the preference is due. These canons I shall give, nearly in the words of the author; and illustrate them, as I proceed, by a few apposite examples, partly his, and partly my own.

Canon I.—When the usage is divided, as to any particular words or phrases, and when one of the expressions is susceptible of a different meaning, while the other admits only one signification, the expression, which is strictly univocal, should be preferred.

For this reason, aught[135], for “anything,” is better than ought; scarcely, as an adverb, better than scarce; by consequence is preferable to of consequence, which signifies also “of importance;” and exceedingly, as an adverb, is preferable to exceeding.

For the same reason, to purpose, for “to intend,” is better than to propose, which signifies also “to lay before,” or “submit to consideration;” and proposal, for “a thing offered or proposed,” is better than “proposition,” which denotes also “a position,” or the “affirmation of any principle or maxim.” Thus we say, “he demonstrated Euclid’s proposition,” and “he rejected the proposal of his friend.”

Agreeably also to this canon, disposal, in common language, when a grant, or giving away is denoted, or when the management of anything is to be expressed, is preferable to disposition, which signifies also arrangement, and likewise temper of mind; and exposure, as the verbal noun from expose, is better than exposition, the verbal noun of expound. We should say, “the exposure of a fault,” and “the exposition of a text.” The analogous words composure, from compose, and composition, from compound, or compose, have been suffered to retain their distinct significations. “To speak contemptuously of a person,” is better than “to speak contemptibly;” the latter term meaning generally, “in a contemptible manner,” or, “in a manner worthy of contempt;”[230] whereas the former is univocal, and denotes disrespectfully, or “in a manner significant of contempt.”

For the same reason, obvious, for “evident,” is better than apparent, which means also “seeming,” as opposed to “real.”

The term primitive, as equivalent to original, is preferable to primary. The latter is synonymous with principal, and is opposed to secondary; the former is equivalent to original, and is opposed to derivative or acquired. I shall illustrate this distinction by a few examples. The words falsehood and lie agree in expressing the same primary idea, namely, “contrariety to fact;” but they differ in their secondary ideas, the former implying simply, “inconsistency with physical truth,” the latter being a term of reproach, expressing “a wilful breach of veracity, or of moral truth.” To kill, and to murder, agree also in their primary ideas, both denoting “the deprivation of life;” but they differ in their secondary, the former implying no moral turpitude, the latter denoting an immoral act. From these examples it will appear, that primary denotes “what is principal or chief,” as opposed to “secondary,” or “subordinate.”

Primitive is equivalent to original; thus we say, the primitive meaning of the word villain, was “a nearer tenant to the lord of the manor;” custom has altered its signification, and it now denotes “a wicked fellow.” Thus the primary and the primitive meaning of words may be very different; these terms, therefore, ought to be duly discriminated.

Intension, for “the act of stretching or straining,” is for the same reason, preferable to intention, which signifies also “purpose,” or “design.” “I am mistaken,” is frequently used to denote “I misunderstand,” or “I am in error;” but as this expression may also signify, “I am misunderstood,” it is better to say, “I mistake.”

This canon I would earnestly recommend to the observance of every writer, who is solicitous to exclude all unnecessary ambiguity, but more emphatically to my junior readers, who are peculiarly prone to the violation of this rule, misled by false notions of elegance and dignity. There prevails at present a foolish and ridiculous, not to say absurd, disposition in some writers, to prefer in every instance, with no discrimination,[231] long to short words. They seem to entertain an inveterate antipathy to monosyllabic terms; and disdaining whatever savours of Saxon origin, are incessantly searching after the sesquipedalia verba of Greek or Latin extraction, with no regard whatever to precision and perspicuity. Thus many words, which cannot be dismissed without detriment to the language, are falling into disuse, and their places supplied by equivocal and less appropriate terms.

For this reason, contemporary is better than cotemporary, con being used before a consonant, and co before a vowel; as, concomitant, coeval.

For the same reason, “he needs,” “he dares,” “whether he will or not,” are better than “he need,” “he dare,” “whether he will or no.” The last of the three phraseologies, here recommended, Priestley thinks exceptionable. To me, as to Campbell, the ellipsis appears evident; thus, “whether he will, or will not:” hence “will not” seems the only analogical expression.

Canon III.—When expressions are in other respects equal, that should be preferred, which is most agreeable to the ear. This requires no illustration.

Canon IV.—When none of the preceding rules take place, regard should be had to simplicity. On this ground, “accept,” “approve,” “admit,” are preferable to “accept of,” “approve of,” “admit of.”

I have already observed, that no expression, or mode of speech, can be justified, which is not sanctioned by usage. The converse, however, does not follow, that every phraseology, sanctioned by usage, should be retained; and, in such cases, custom may properly be checked by criticism, whose province it is, not only to remonstrate against the introduction of any word or phraseology, which may be either unnecessary or contrary to analogy, but also to extrude whatever is reprehensible, though in general use. It is by this exercise of her prerogative, that languages are gradually refined[232] and improved; and were this denied, language would soon become stationary, or more probably would hasten to decline. In exercising this authority, she cannot pretend to degrade instantly any phraseology, which she may deem objectionable; but she may, by repeated remonstrances, gradually effect its dismission. Her decisions in such cases may be properly regulated by the following canons, as delivered by the same author.

Canon I.—All words and phrases, particularly harsh, and not absolutely necessary, should be dismissed; as, “shamefacedness,” “unsuccessfulness,” “wrongheadedness.”

Canon II.—When the etymology plainly points to a different signification from what the word bears, propriety and simplicity require its dismission. For example, the word “beholden,” taken for “obliged,” or the verb “to unloose,” for “to loose,” or “untie,” should be rejected.

Canon III.—When words become obsolete, or are never used, but in particular phrases, they should be repudiated; as they give the style an air of vulgarity and cant, when their general disuse renders them obscure. Of these “lief,” “dint,” “whit,” “moot,” “pro and con,” furnish examples; as, “I had as lief go,” “by dint of argument,” “not a whit better,” “a moot point,” “it was argued pro and con.” These phraseologies are vulgar, and savour too much of cant to be admitted in good writing.

Canon IV.—All words and phrases, which, analyzed grammatically, include a solecism, should be dismissed; as, “I had rather go.” The expression should be, “I would,” or “I’d rather go:” and from the latter, the solecism “I had go,” seems by mistake to have arisen, I’d being erroneously conceived to be contracted for I had, instead of a contraction for I would. This is the opinion of Campbell, and to this opinion I expressed my assent, in the former edition of this Treatise. I acknowledge, however, that it now appears to me not strictly correct; and that Webster has not questioned its accuracy on insufficient grounds. In the phrases adduced by[233] Campbell, such as “I’d go,” “I’d rather stay,” we can readily perceive the probability that I’d is a contraction for “I would.” But in such expressions as “I had like to have been caught,” which occur not only in colloquial language, but also in authors of considerable name, it is impossible to admit Campbell’s explanation. I must observe also, that the phraseology, which he censures, occurs in some of our earliest writers, and is so frequently found in Pope and Swift, that one is tempted to infer, notwithstanding its solecistic appearance, that it is genuine English. It is difficult, however, nay, perhaps impossible, to reconcile it to analogy. Were I to offer conjecture on the subject, I should be inclined to say, that in such phrases as “I had go,” I had is, by a grammatical figure very common in English, put for I would have, or I would possess, and that the simple name of the act or state, by an ellipsis perhaps of the verbal sign, is subjoined, as the object wished, no regard being had to the completion of the action; in the same manner as we say, I would have gone, when we wish the action perfected. But by whatever authority this phraseology may be recommended, and in whatever way it may be reconciled to the rules of syntax, it has so much the appearance of solecism, that I decidedly prefer with Campbell the unexceptional form of expression, I would. The phrase I had like appears to me utterly irreconcilable with any principle of analogy.

Canon V.—All expressions, which, according to the established rules of the language, either have no meaning, or involve a contradiction, or, according to the fair construction of the words, convey a meaning different from the intention of the speaker, should be dismissed. Thus, when a person says, “he sings a good song,” the words strictly imply that “the song is good,” whereas the speaker means to say, “he sings well.” In like manner, when it is said, “this is the best part he acts,” the sentence, according to the strict interpretation of the words, expresses an opinion, not of his manner of acting, but of the part or character which he acts. It should be, “he acts this part best,” or “this is the part which he acts best.” “He plays a good fiddle,” for “he[234] plays well on the fiddle,” is, for the same reason, objectionable.

Of expressions involving a contradiction, the following will serve as an example. “There were four ladies in company, every one prettier than another.” This is impossible. If A was prettier than B, B must have been less pretty than A; but by the expression every one was prettier than another, therefore B was also prettier than A. Such absurdities as this ought surely to be banished from every language[136].

Of those, which have little or no meaning, Campbell has given us examples, “currying favour,” “having a month’s mind,” “shooting at rovers.” Such modes of expression, he justly calls trash, the disgrace of any language.

These canons I have extracted from “Campbell on Rhetoric,” a book which I would recommend to the reader’s attentive perusal.

I proceed to observe, that to write any language with grammatical purity, implies these three things:

2ndly. That they be construed and arranged, according to the rules of syntax in that language.

2ndly. Their construction may be contrary to the English idiom. This error is termed solecism.

3rdly. They may be used in a sense different from their established acceptation. This error is named impropriety[137].

The barbarism is an offence against lexicography, by admitting new words, as, “volupty,” “connexity,” “majestatic;” or by using obsolete words, as, “uneath,” “erst;” or an[235] offence against etymology, by improper inflection, as, “teached” for “taught,” “oxes” for “oxen.”

The solecism is an offence against the rules of syntax, as, “I reads,” “you was.”

The impropriety is an offence against lexicography, by mistaking the meaning of words or phrases.

A solecism is regarded by grammarians as a much greater offence than either of the others; because it betrays a greater ignorance of the principles of the language. Rhetorically considered, it is deemed a less trespass; for the rhetorician and grammarian estimate the magnitude of errors by different standards; the former inquiring only how far any error militates against the great purpose of his art—persuasion; the latter, how far it betrays an ignorance of the principles of grammar. Hence with the former, obscurity is the greatest trespass; with the latter, solecism, and that species of barbarism which violates the rules of etymology[138].

Having, in the preceding chapter, explained the nature of that usage which gives law to language; and having proposed a few rules for the student’s direction in cases where usage is divided, and also where her authority may be justly questioned and checked by criticism; I intend, in the following pages, to present the young reader with a copious exemplification of the three general species of error against grammatical purity, arranging the examples in the order of the parts of speech.

SECTION I.
THE NOUN.

BARBARISM.

“I rode in a one-horse chay.” It ought to be “a one-horse chaise.” There is no such word as chay.

“That this has been the true and proper acception of this word, I shall testify by one evidence.”—Hammond. Acception is obsolete; it ought to be acceptation.

“Were the workmen to enter into a contrary combination of the same kind, not to accept of a certain wage.”—Wealth of Nations. Wage is obsolete; the plural only is used.

“Their alliance was sealed by the nuptial of Henry, with the daughter of the Italian prince.”—Gibbon. Nuptial has not, I believe, been used as a substantive since the days of Shakspeare, and may be deemed obsolete. The plural nuptials is the proper word.

“He showed that he had a full comprehension of the whole of the plan, and of the judicious adaption of the parts to the whole.”—Sheridan’s Life of Swift. Adaption is obsolescent, if not obsolete: adaptation is the proper term. Adaption is frequently employed by Swift, from whom Sheridan seems to have copied it.

... “Which even his brother modernists themselves, like ungrates, whisper so loud that it reaches up to the very garret I am now writing in.”—Swift. “Ungrate” is a barbarism. “Ingrate” is to be found in some of our English poets as an adjective, and synonymous with “ungrateful;” but “ungrate,” as a substantive, is truly barbarous. Almost equally objectionable is Steele’s use of stupid as a substantive plural. “Thou art no longer to drudge in raising the mirth of stupids.”—Spectator, No. 468. And also of ignorant, “the ignorants of the lowest order.”—Ibid.

Pope also says, in one of his letters, “We are curious impertinents in the case of futurity.” This employment of the adjective as a noun substantive, though never sanctioned by general use, is now properly avoided by our most reputable writers. It tends to confusion, where distinction is necessary.

“The Deity dwelleth between the cherubims.” The Hebrews form the plural of masculines by adding im; “cherubims,” therefore, is a double plural. “Seraphims,” for the same reason, is faulty. The singular of these words being “cherub” and “seraph,” the plural is either “cherubs” and “seraphs,” or “cherubim” and “seraphim.” Milton has uniformly avoided this mistake, which circumstance Addison, in his criticisms on that author, has overlooked; nay, he has, even with Milton’s correct usage before him, committed the error. “The zeal of the seraphim,” says he, “breaks forth in a becoming warmth of sentiments and expressions, as the character which is given of him,” &c. Here “seraphim,” a plural noun, is used as singular. It should be, “the zeal of the seraph.”

“Nothing can be more pleasant than to see virtuosoes about a cabinet of medals descanting upon the value, the rarity, and authenticalness of the several pieces.” Authenticalness, though used by Addison, is obsolescent, and may, perhaps, be deemed a barbarism. It may be properly dismissed, as a harsh and unnecessary term.

“He broke off with Lady Gifford, one of his oldest acquaintances in life.”—Sheridan’s Life of Swift. Acquaintances is now deemed a Scotticism, being almost peculiar to the northern parts of the island. Johnson, however, did not[238] disclaim it. “A young student from the inns of court, who has often attacked the curate of his father’s parish, with such arguments as his acquaintances could furnish.”—Rambler. We find it also in Steele; thus, “she pays everybody their own, and yet makes daily new acquaintances.”—Tatler, No. 109.

“I am sure that the farmeress at Bevis would feel emotions of vanity ... if she knew you gave her the character of a reasonable woman.”—Lord Peterborough to Pope. This, I believe, is the only passage in which farmeress is to be found; but, though it may therefore be pronounced a barbarism, the author could not have expressed himself so clearly and so concisely, in any other way. We every now and then, as Johnson observes, feel the want of a feminine termination.

“The bellowses were broken.” The noun, as here inflected, is barbarous. “Bellows” is a plural word denoting a single instrument, though consisting of two parts. There is, therefore, no such word as “bellowses.”

SOLECISM[139].

“I have read Horace Art of Poetry.” This expression may be deemed solecistical, being a violation of that rule, by which one substantive governs another in the genitive. It should be, “Horace’s Art of Poetry.” “These are ladies ruffles,” “this is the kings picture,” are errors of the same kind, for “ladies’ ruffles,” “the king’s picture.”

“These three great genius’s flourished at the same time.” Here “genius’s,” the genitive singular, is improperly used for “geniuses,” the nominative plural.

“They have of late, ’tis true, reformed, in some measure, the gouty joints and darning work of whereunto’s, whereby’s, thereof’s, therewith’s, and the rest of this kind.”—Shaftesbury. Here also the genitive singular is improperly used for the objective case plural. It should be, whereuntos, wherebys, thereofs, therewiths.

“Both those people, acute and inquisitive to excess, corrupted the sciences.”—Adams’s History of England.

“Two rival peoples, the Jews and the Samaritans, have preserved separate exemplars of it.”—Geddes’ Preface to his Translation of the Bible. The former of these passages involves a palpable error, the word “people,” here equivalent to nation, and in the singular number, being joined with both or “the two,” a term of plurality. In the latter, this error is avoided, the noun being employed in the plural number. This usage, however, though sanctioned by the authority of our translators of the Bible in two passages, seems now to be obsolete. States, tribes, nations, appear to be preferable.

“I bought a scissars,” “I want a tongs,” “it is a tattered colours,” involve a palpable solecism, the term significant of unity being joined with a plural word. It should be “a pair of scissars,” “a pair of tongs,” “a pair of colours.”

“They tell us, that the fashion of jumbling fifty things together in a dish was at first introduced, in compliance to a depraved and debauched appetite.”—Swift.

We say, “comply with;” therefore, by Rule xvii. “in compliance with” is the analogical form of expression, and has the sanction of classical usage.

“The fortitude of a man, who brings his will to the obedience of his reason.”—Steele. Analogy requires “obedience to.” We say, obedient to command: the person obeying is expressed in the genitive, or with the preposition of; and the person or thing obeyed with the preposition to, as, “a servant’s obedience,” or “the obedience of a servant to the orders of his master.”

“Give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine.”—Bible. “Attendance” and “attention” are verbal nouns, derived from “attend.” When the verb signifies “to regard,” or “to fix the mind upon,” it is followed by to, as, “he attends to his studies,” and the verbal noun is “attention,” construed, agreeably to Rule xvii. in the same manner as the verb. Thus, “he gives attention to his studies.” But when “to attend” signifies “to wait on,” or “be present at,” it is followed by on, upon, or at, and is sometimes used without the preposition.

Thus, “if any minister refused to admit a lecturer recommended to him, he was required to attend upon the committee.”—Clarendon.

“He attended at the consecration with becoming gravity.”—Hume. In this sense the verbal noun is “attendance,” and construed like the verb, when it bears this signification. In the sentence, therefore, last quoted, syntax requires, either “attendance at” or “attention to.” The latter conveys the meaning of the original.

IMPROPRIETY.

“The observation of the Sabbath is a duty incumbent on every Christian.” It should be, “the observance.” Both substantives are derived from the verb “to observe.” When the verb means “to keep,” or “obey,” the verbal noun is “observance;” when “to remark,” or “to notice,” the noun is “observation.”

“They make such acquirements, as fit them for useful avocations.”—Staunton’s Embassy to China.

The word avocation is frequently, as in the example before us, confounded with vocation. By the latter is clearly signified “calling,” “trade,” “employment,” “business,” “occupation;” and by the former is meant whatever withdraws, distracts, or diverts us from that business. No two words can be more distinct; yet we often see them confounded.

“A supplication of twenty days was decreed to his honour.”—Henry’s History of Britain. The term supplication is in our language confined to what Johnson calls “petitionary worship,” and always implies request, entreaty, or petition. The Latin term supplicatio has a more extensive meaning, and likewise supplicium, each denoting not only prayer, strictly so called, but also thanksgiving. The latter of these should have been employed by the author.

“Our pleasures are purer, when consecrated by nations, and cherished by the greatest genii among men.”—Blackwell’s Mythology. Genii means spirits. (See p. 18.) It ought to be geniuses.

I have already remarked (see p. 31), that, when the primary idea implied in the masculine and feminine terms is the chief object of attention, and when the sex does not enter as a matter of consideration, the masculine term should be employed, even when the female is signified. Thus, the Monthly Reviewer, in giving a critique on the poems of[241] Mrs. Grant, says, in allusion to that lady, “such is the poet’s request.” This is strictly proper. He considers her merely as a writer of poetry. But, were we to say, “as a poet she ought not to choose for her theme the story of Abelard,” we should be chargeable with error. For this would imply, that the story of Abelard is not a fit subject for a poem,—a sentiment manifestly false. There is no incongruity between the subject and poetry, but between the subject and female delicacy. We ought, therefore, to say, “as a poetess, she ought not to choose for her theme the story of Abelard.”

“It was impossible not to suspect the veracity of this story.” “Veracity” is applicable to persons only, and properly denotes that moral quality or property, which consists in speaking truth, being in its import nearly synonymous with the fashionable, but grossly perverted term, honour: it is, therefore, improperly applied to things. It should be “the truth of this story.” The former denotes moral, and the latter physical truth. We therefore say “the truth” or “verity of the relation or thing told,” and “the veracity of the relater.”

Pope has entitled a small dissertation, prefixed to his translation of the Iliad, “A View of the Epic Poem,” misled, it is probable, by Bossu’s title of a similar work, “Traité du Poëme Epique.” Poem denotes the work or thing composed; “the art of making,” which is here intended, is termed poesy.

An error similar to this occurs in the following passage: “I apprehend that all the sophism which has been or can be employed, will not be sufficient to acquit this system at the tribunal of reason.”—Bolingbroke. “Sophism” is properly defined by Johnson, “a fallacious argument;” sophistry means “fallacious reasoning,” or “unsound argumentation.” The author should have said “all the sophistry,” or “all the sophisms.”

“The Greek is, doubtless, a language much superior in riches, harmony, and variety to the Latin.”—Campbell’s Rhet. As the properties or qualities of the languages are here particularly compared, I apprehend, that the abstract “richness” would be a more apposite term. “Riches” properly[242] denotes “the things possessed,” or “what constitutes the opulence of the owner;” “richness” denotes the state, quality, or property of the individual, as possessed of these. The latter, therefore, appears to me the more appropriate term.

“He felt himself compelled to acknowledge the justice of my remark.” The justness would, agreeably to Canon 1st, be the preferable word, the former term being confined to persons, and the latter to things.

“The negligence of this leaves us exposed to an uncommon levity in our usual conversation.”—Spectator. It ought to be “the neglect.” “Negligence” implies a habit; “neglect” expresses an act.

“For I am of opinion that it is better a language should not be wholly perfect, than it should be perpetually changing; and we must give over at one time, or at length infallibly change for the worse; as the Romans did when they began to quit their simplicity of style for affected refinements, such as we meet with in Tacitus, and other authors, which ended, by degrees, in many barbarities.” Barbarity, in this sense, is obsolescent. The univocal term, barbarism, is much preferable.

Gibbon, speaking of the priest, says, “to obtain the acceptation of this guide to salvation, you must faithfully pay him tythes.” Acceptation in this sense is obsolete, or at least nearly out of use; it should be favour or acceptance.

“She ought to lessen the extravagant power of the duke and duchess, by taking the disposition of employments into her own hands.”—Swift. Disposal, for reasons already assigned[140], is much better.

“The conscience of approving one’s self a benefactor to mankind, is the noblest recompense for being so.” “Conscience” is the faculty by which we judge our own conduct. It is here improperly used for “consciousness,” or the perception of what passes within ourselves.

“If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason on compulsion.”—Shakspeare. Here plenty, a substantive, is improperly used for plentiful.

“It had a prodigious quantity of windows.”—Spence’s Excursions. It should be number. This error frequently occurs in common conversation. We hear of “a quantity of people,” of “a quantity of troops,” “a quantity of boys and girls,” just as if they were to be measured by the bushel, or weighed in the balance.—“To-morrow will suit me equally well.” If we enquire here for a nominative to the verb, we find none, morrow being under the government of the preposition. This error is so common, that we fear its correction is hopeless. The translators of the Bible seem carefully to have avoided this inaccuracy:—“To-morrow (i.e. ‘on the morrow’) the Lord shall do this;” “And the Lord did that thing on the morrow.” Analogy requires, that we should say, “The morrow will suit me equally well.”

“I have the Dublin copy of Gibbon’s History.” This is a Scotticism for Dublin edition; and so palpable, that I should not have mentioned it, were it not found in authors of no contemptible merit. “I have no right to be forced,” said a citizen to a magistrate, “to serve as constable.” This perversion of the word right, originally, we believe, a cockneyism, is gradually gaining ground, and is found in compositions, into which nothing but extreme inattention can account for its introduction. A right implies a just claim, or title to some privilege, freedom, property, or distinction, supposed by the claimant to be conducive to his benefit. We should smile, if we heard a foreigner, in vindication of his innocence, say, “I have no right to be imprisoned;” “I have no right to be hanged.” The perversion here is too palpable to escape our notice. But we hear a similar, though not so ridiculous, an abuse of the word, in common conversation without surprise. “I have no right,” says one, “to be taxed with this indiscretion;” “I have no right,” says another, “to be subjected to this penalty.” These phraseologies are absurd. They involve a contradiction; they presume a benefit, while they imply an injury. The correlative term on one side is right, and on the other obligation; a creditor has a right to a just debt, and the debtor is under an obligation to pay it. Instead of these indefensible phraseologies we should say, “I am not bound,” or “I am under no obligation to[244] submit to this penalty;” “I ought not to be taxed with this indiscretion,” or “you have no right to subject me,” “you have no right to tax me.”

Robertson, when speaking of the Mexican form of government (Book viith), says, “But the description of their policy and laws is so inaccurate and contradictory, that it is difficult to delineate the form of their constitution with any precision.” I should here prefer the appropriate and univocal term polity, which denotes merely the form of government; policy means rather wisdom or prudence, or the art of governing, which may exist where there is no settled polity.

“A letter relative to certain calumnies and misrepresentations which have appeared in the Edinburgh Review, with an exposition of the ignorance of the new critical junto.”—Here, agreeably to Canon I. (see p. 229), I should prefer exposure, as being a word strictly univocal. It would conduce to perspicuity were we to consider exposition as the verbal noun of expound, and confine it entirely to explanation, and exposure as the verbal noun of expose, signifying the act of setting out, or the state of being set out or exposed.

SECTION II.
THE ADJECTIVE.

BARBARISM.

“Instead of an able man, you desire to have him an insignificant wrangler, opiniatre in discourse, and priding himself on contradicting others.”—Locke. Opiniatre is a barbarism; it should be opinionative.

“The punishment that belongs to that great and criminous guilt is the forfeiture of his right and claim to all mercies.”—Hammond. Criminous is a barbarism.

“Which, even in the most overly view, will appear incompatible with any sort of music.”—Kames’s Elements. Overly is a Scotticism; in England it is now obsolete. The proper term is cursory or superficial.

“Who should believe, that a man should be a doctor for[245] the cure of bursten children?”—Steele. The participle bursten is now obsolete.

“Callisthenes, the philosopher, that followed Alexander’s court, and hated the king, being asked, how one should become the famousest man in the world, answered, By taking away him that is.”—Bacon’s Apophth. The superlative is a barbarism; it should be, “most famous.”

SOLECISM.

“I do not like these kind of men.” Here the plural word these is joined to a noun singular; it should be, “this kind.” “Those sort,” “these kind of things,” are gross solecisms.

“Neither do I see it is any crime, farther than ill manners, to differ in opinion from the majority of either, or both houses; and that ill manners I have often been guilty of.”—Swift’s Examiner. Here is another egregious solecism. He should have said, “those ill manners,” or “that species of ill manners.”

“The landlord was quite unfurnished of every kind of provision.”—Sheridan’s Life of Swift. We say, “to furnish with,” not “to furnish of.” Furnished and unfurnished are construed in the same manner. It should be, “unfurnished with.”

“A child of four years old was thus cruelly deserted by its parents.” This form of expression frequently occurs, and is an egregious solecism. It should be, “a child four years old,” or “aged four years,” not “of four years.” Those who employ this incorrect phraseology, seem misled by confounding two very different modes of expression, namely, “a child of four years of age,” or “of the age of four years,” and “a child four years old.” The preposition of is requisite in the two first of these forms, but inadmissible in the third. They would not say, “I am of four years old,” but “I am four years old;” hence, consistently, they ought to say, “a child four years old.” “At ten years old, I was put to a grammar school.”—Steele. Grammatically this is, “I old at ten years.”

“This account is very different to what I told you.” “I found your affairs had been managed in a different manner than what I advised.” Both these phraseologies are faulty.[246] It should be in each, “different from.” The verb “to differ” is construed with from before the second object of disparity; the adjective therefore should (by Rule xvii.) be construed in the same manner.

“These words have the same sense of those others.” Same should be followed with as, with, or the relatives who, which, that. It ought, therefore, to be, “as those,” or “with those,” or “have the sense of those others.”

“I shall ever depend on your constant friendship, kind memory, and good offices, though I were never to see or hear the effects of them, like the trust we have in benevolent spirits, who, though we never see or hear them, we think are constantly serving and praying for us.”—Pope’s Letters to Atterbury. Like can have no grammatical reference to any word in the sentence but I, and this reference is absurd. He should have said, “as, or just as, we trust in benevolent spirits.”

“This gentleman rallies the best of any man I know.”—Addison. The superlative must be followed by of, the preposition implying out of a plurality, expressed either by a collective noun, or a plural number. But here we have a selection denoted by of, and the selection to be made out of one. This is absurd. It should be, “better than any other”—the best of all men—“I know;” “this gentleman, of all my acquaintance, rallies the best;” or “of all my acquaintance, there is no one, who rallies so well as this gentleman.”

“Besides, those, whose teeth are too rotten to bite, are best, of all others, qualified to revenge that defect with their breath.”—Preface to A Tale of a Tub.

“Here,” says Sheridan, “the disjunction of the word best from the word qualified makes the sentence uncouth, which would run better thus, ‘are, of all others, best qualified.’” So far Mr. Sheridan is right; but he has left uncorrected a very common error. The antecedent subject of comparison is here absurdly referred at once to the same, and to a different aggregate, the word of referring it to others, to which it is opposed, and to which therefore it cannot, without a contradiction, be said to belong. The sentence, therefore, involves an absurdity: either the word others should be expunged,[247] when the sentence would run thus, “Those, whose teeth are too rotten to bite, are, of all, best qualified to revenge that defect;” or, if the word others be retained, the clause should be, “are better qualified than all others.”[141]

The phraseology here censured is admissible in those cases only where a previous comparison has been made. If we say, “To engage a private tutor for a single pupil is, perhaps, of all others, the least eligible mode of giving literary instruction,” (Barrow on Education,) without making that previous discrimination, which the word others implies, we commit an error. But we may say with propriety, “I prefer the mode of education adopted in our public schools; and of all other modes, to engage a private tutor appears to me the least eligible.”

IMPROPRIETY.

“They could easier get them by heart, and retain them in memory.”—Adams’s History of England. Here the adjective is improperly used for the adverb; it ought to be “more easily.” Swift commits a similar error, when he says, “Ned explained his text so full and clear,” for “so fully and clearly.”

“Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve, by way of address, to my patrons, the true modern critics, and may very well atone for my past silence as well as for that, which I am like to observe for the future.”—Swift. Like, or similar, is here improperly used for likely, a word in signification nearly synonymous with probable. We say, “he is likely to do it,” or “it is probable he will do it.”

“Charity vaunteth not itself, doth not behave itself unseemly.” Here the adjective unseemly is improperly used for the adverb, denoting “in an unseemly manner.” Unseemlily not being in use, the word indecently should be substituted.

“The Romans had no other subsistence but the scanty[248] pillage of a few farms.” Other is redundant; it should be, “no subsistence but,” or “no other subsistence than.” In the Saxon language, and the earlier English writers, the word other is not uniformly followed by than, but sometimes with but, before, save, except[142], thus, Mark xii. 32, “thær an God is, and nis other butan him,” thus rendered in the Bishops’ Translation, “there is one God, and there is none but he,” and in the common version, “none other but he.” In the Book of Common Prayer we have, “Thou shalt have no other Gods but me;” and the same form of expression occurs in Addison, Swift, and other contemporary writers. Usage, however, seems of late to have decided almost universally in favour of than. This decision is not only consistent with analogy, if the word other is to be deemed a comparative, but may also, in some cases, be subservient to perspicuity. No other but, no other beside, no other except, are equivalent expressions, and do not perhaps convey precisely the same idea with none but, no other than. Thus, if we take an example similar to Baker’s, and suppose a person to say “A called on me this morning,” B asks, “No one else?” “No other,” answers A, “but my stationer.” Here the expression, as Baker remarks, seems strictly proper, the words no other having a reference to A. But if the stationer had been the only visitor, he should say, “none but,” or “no other than the stationer called on me this morning.” This is the opinion of Baker. The distinction, which he wishes to establish, is[249] sufficiently evident; but that it is warranted by strict analysis, I do not mean to affirm.

“He has eaten no bread, nor drunk no water, these two days.” No is here improperly used for any, two negatives making an affirmative: it should be, “nor drunk any water.”

“The servant must have an undeniable character.” Undeniable is equivalent to incontrovertible, or “not admitting dispute.” An “undeniable character,” therefore, means, a character which cannot be denied or disputed, whether good or bad: it should be “unexceptionable.”

“But you are too wise to propose to yourselves an object inadequate to your strength.”—Watson’s History of Philip III. Inadequate means “falling short of due proportion,” and is here improperly used in a sense nearly the reverse. It should be “to which your strength is inadequate,” or “superior to your strength.”

“I received a letter to-day from our mutual friend.” I concur with Baker in considering this expression to be incorrect. A may be a friend to B, and also to C, and is therefore a friend common to both; but not their mutual friend: for this implies reciprocity between two individuals, or two parties. The individuals may be mutually friends; but one cannot be the mutual friend of the other. Locke more properly says, “I esteem the memory of our common friend.” This is, doubtless, the correct expression; but, as the term common may denote “ordinary,” or “not uncommon,” the word mutual, though not proper, may, perhaps, as Baker observes, be tolerated.

The superlatives lowest and lowermost, highest and uppermost, appear to me to be frequently confounded. Thus we say, “the lowest house in the street,” when we mean the lowest in respect to measurement, from the basement to the top, and also the lowest in regard to position, the inferiority being occasioned by declivity. Now it appears to me, that when we refer to dimension, we should say, lowest or highest; and when we refer to site or situation, we ought to say, lowermost or uppermost.

“It was due, perhaps, more to the ignorance of the scholars, than to the knowledge of the masters.”—Swift. It[250] should be rather, “it was owing,” or “it is ascribable.” The author had previously been speaking of the first instructors of mankind, and questioning their claim to the title of sages. To say, then, that their right to this title, or that the appellation itself, “was due more to ignorance than to knowledge,” is manifestly improper. Swift, however, was not singular in using the adjective in this sense. Steele, and some other contemporary writers, employed it in the same acceptation. “The calamities of children are due to the negligence of the parents.”—Spectator, No. 431. It is now seldom or never employed as equivalent to “owing to,” or “occasioned by.”

“Risible,” “ludicrous,” and “ridiculous,” are frequently confounded. Risible denotes merely the capacity of laughing, and is applied to animals having the faculty of laughter, as, “man is a risible creature.” Ludicrous is applicable to things exciting laughter simply; ridiculous to things exciting laughter with contempt. The tricks of a monkey are ludicrous, the whimsies of superstition are ridiculous. “The measure of the mid stream for salmon among our forefathers is not less risible.”—Kames’s Sketches. He should have said “ridiculous.”

We have already expressed our doubt of the propriety of using the numeral adjective one, as referring to a plurality of individuals, denoted by a plural noun. (See p. 48.) There is something which is not only strange to the ear, but also strikes us as ungrammatical, in saying[143], “The Greeks and the Trojans continued the contest; the one were favoured by Juno, the other by Venus.” At the same time, it must be acknowledged, that there seems to be an inconsistency in questioning this phraseology, and yet retaining some others, which appear to be analogous to it, and can plead in their defence reputable usage. We say, “The Romans and the Carthaginians contended with each other;” and “The English, the Dutch, and the Spaniards disputed, one with another, the sovereignty of the sea.” Here each and one[251] clearly refer to a plurality, expressed by a noun plural. A similar example occurs in the following sentence: “As the greatest part of mankind are more affected by things, which strike the senses, than by excellences, that are discovered by reason and thought, they form very erroneous judgments, when they compare one with the other.”—Guardian. If we inquire, what one? we find the answer to be “things.” Here is a manifest incongruity, which might have been prevented, by saying, “one subject with the other,” or “when they compare them together.” As this construction of one, referring to a noun plural, seems irreconcilable with the notion of unity, and may be avoided, it becomes a question, whether this phraseology ought to be imitated. The subject, as far as I know, has not been considered by any of our grammarians.

“That this was the cause of the disaster, was apparent to all.” Apparent is sometimes used in this sense. The word, however, is equivocal, as it denotes seeming, opposed to real; and obvious, opposed to doubtful or obscure. “I consider the difference between him and the two authors above mentioned, as more apparent than real.”—Campbell. Here apparent is opposed to real; and to this sense it would be right to confine it, as thus all ambiguity would be effectually prevented. “But there soon appeared very apparent reasons for James’s partiality.”—Goldsmith. Obvious, or evident, would unquestionably be preferable.

“How seldom, then, does it happen, that the mind does not find itself in similar circumstances? Very rare indeed.”—Trusler’s Preface to Synon. The adjective rare is here improperly used for the adverb. As the question, indeed, is adverbially proposed, it is somewhat surprising that the author should answer adjectively: it ought to be, “very rarely.”

“No man had ever less friends, and more enemies.” Less refers to quantity, fewer to number; it should be, “fewer friends.”

“The mind may insensibly fall off from this relish of virtuous actions, and by degrees exchange that pleasure, which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much more inferior and unprofitable nature.”—Addison. Inferior implies comparison, but it is grammatically a positive. When[252] one thing is, in any respect, lower than another, we say, “it is inferior to it;” and if a third thing were still lower, we should say, “it is still more inferior.” But the author is comparing only two subjects; he should therefore have said, “of a much inferior, and more unprofitable nature.” The expression “more preferable” is for the same reason faulty, unless when two degrees of excess are implied.

The adjectives agreeable, suitable, conformable, independent, consistent, relative, previous, antecedent, and many others, are often used, where their several derivative adverbs would be more properly employed; as, “he lives agreeable to nature,” “he wrote to me previous to his coming to town,” “tolerable good,” “he acted conformable to his promise.” It is worthy of remark, however, that the idiom of our language is not repugnant to some of these phraseologies; a circumstance which many of our grammarians have overlooked, if we may judge from the severity with which they have condemned them. If I say, “he acted according to nature,” the expression is deemed unobjectionable: but is not according a participle, or, perhaps, here more properly a participial? “He acted contrary to nature” is also considered as faultless; but is not contrary an adjective? Were we to reason on abstract principles, or to adopt what is deemed the preferable phraseology, we should say, “contrarily” and “accordingly to nature.” This, however, is not the case. “Contrary to nature,” “according to nature,” and many similar phraseologies, are admitted as good: why, then, is “conformable to nature,” an expression perfectly analogous, so severely condemned? Johnson has, indeed, uselessly enough, in my opinion, called according a preposition; fearful, however, of error, he adds, it is properly a participle, for it is followed by to. According is always a participle, as much as agreeing, and can be nothing else. Because secundum in Latin is termed a preposition, hence some have referred according to the same species of words. With equal propriety might in the power of be deemed a preposition, because penes in Latin is so denominated. Now, if “he acted contrary to nature” and “according to nature” be deemed unexceptionable expressions, with many others of the same[253] kind, which might be adduced, it follows that, “he acted agreeable,” “conformable,” “suitable to nature,” may plead in their favour these analogous phraseologies. I offer these observations, in order to show that, misled by abstract reasonings, or by the servile imitation of another language, we sometimes hastily condemn, as altogether inadmissible, modes of expression, which are not repugnant to our vernacular idiom. I would not, however, be understood to mean, that the adverb is not, in these cases, much to be preferred, when it can be employed consistently with good usage. For, if we say, “he acts agreeable to the laws of reason,” the question is, who or what is agreeable? the answer, according to the strict construction of the sentence, is he; but it is not he, but his mode of acting, of which the accordance is predicated; agreeably is, therefore, the preferable term.

I observe also, that, wherever the adjective is employed to modify the meaning of another adjective, it becomes particularly exceptionable, and can scarcely, indeed, plead aught in its favour, as, “indifferent good,” “tolerable strong,” instead of “indifferently good,” and “tolerably strong.” The following phraseology is extremely inelegant, and is scarcely admissible on any principle of analogy: “Immediately consequent to the victory, Drogheda was invested.”—Belsham’s History. What was consequent? Grammatically “Drogheda.”

“No other person, besides my brother, visited me to-day.” Here the speaker means to say that no person, besides his brother, visited him to-day; but his expression implies two exceptions from none, the terms other and besides each implying one, and can, therefore, be correct on this supposition only, that some one besides his brother had visited him. It should be rather, “no person besides.”

“The old man had, some fifty years ago, been no mean performer on the vielle.”—Sterne. This phraseology appears to me very objectionable; and can be proper in no case, except when the date of the period is to be expressed as uncertain. The word some should be cancelled. We may say, “I was absent some days,” because the period is indefinite; but to say, “I was absent some five days,” either involves an incongruity, representing a period as at once definite and[254] indefinite; or denotes “some five days or other,” a meaning which the expression is rarely intended to signify.

“Brutus and Aruns killed one another.” It should be, “each other:” “one another” is applied to more than two. “The one the other” would be correct, though inelegant.

“It argued the most extreme vanity.”—Hume. Extreme is derived from a Latin superlative, and denotes “the farthest,” or “greatest possible:” it cannot, therefore, be compared.

“Of all vices pride is the most universal.” Universal is here improperly used for general. The meaning of the latter admits intension and remission, and may, therefore, be compared. The former is an adjective, whose signification cannot be heightened or lessened; it therefore rejects all intensive and diminutive words, as, so, more, less, least, most. The expression should be, “Of all vices pride is the most general.”

Human and humane, as Dr. Campbell observes, are sometimes confounded. The former properly means “belonging to man;” the latter, “kind and compassionate:” humanly, therefore, is improperly, in the couplet now quoted, used for humanely.

SECTION III.
THE PRONOUN.

BARBARISM.

Pronouns are so few in number, and so simple, that this species of error, in respect to them, can scarcely occur. To this class, however, may perhaps be reduced such as, his’n, her’n, our’n, your’n, their’n, for his own, her own, our own, &c., or for his one, her one, &c.

SOLECISM.

“Who calls?” “’T is me.” This is a violation of that rule, by which the verb to be has the same case after it that it has before it. It should be, “It is I.”

“You were the quarrel,” says Petulant in “The Way of[255] the World.” Millamant answers, “Me!” For the reason just given it should be “I.”

“Spare thou them, O God, which confess their faults.” As the relative refers to persons, it should be who.

“Nor is mankind so much to blame, in his choice thus determining him.”—Swift. Mankind is a collective noun, and is uniformly considered as plural; his, therefore, is a gross solecism.

“By this institution, each legion, to whom a certain portion of auxiliaries was allotted, contained within itself every species of lighter troops, and of missile weapons.”—Gibbon. It ought to be, to which—the pronoun itself, which follows, referring to a noun of the neuter gender. To whom and itself cannot each agree with one common antecedent.

“The seeming importance given to every part of female dress, each of which is committed to the care of a different sylph.”—Essay on the Writings of Pope. This sentence is ungrammatical. Each implying “one of two,” or “every one singly of more than two,” requires the correlative to be considered as plural; yet the antecedent part, to which it refers, is singular. It should be “all parts of female dress.”

“To be sold, the stock of Mr. Smith, left off business.” This is an ungrammatical and very offensive vulgarism. The verb left off, as Baker observes, has no subject, to which it can grammatically belong. It should be, “who has left off,” or “leaving off business” “A. B. lieutenant, vice C. D. resigned.” Here is a similar error. Is C. D. resigned? or is it the office which has been resigned? An excessive love of brevity gives occasion to such solecisms.

“He was ignorant, the profane historian, of the testimony which he is compelled to give.”—Gibbon’s Decline of the Roman Empire.

“The youth and inexperience of the prince, he was only fifteen years of age, declined a perilous encounter.”—Ib.

In the former sentence the historian appears neither as the nominative, nor the regimen to any verb. If it be intended to agree with he by apposition, it should have immediately followed the pronoun. If it be designed emphatically, and ironically, to mark the character of the historian, it should[256] have been thrown into the form of a parenthetic exclamation. In the latter sentence a phraseology occurs, which, notwithstanding its frequency in Gibbon, is extremely awkward and inelegant. The fault may be corrected either by throwing the age of the prince into a parenthesis, or, preferably, by the substitution of who for he.

“Fare thee well” is a phraseology which, though sanctioned by the authority of a celebrated poet, and also by other writers, involves a solecism. The verb is intransitive, and its imperative is fare thou. No one would say, “I fare me well,” “we fare us well.”

“That faction in England, who most powerfully opposed his arbitrary pretensions.”—Mrs. Macaulay. It ought rather to be, “that faction in England, which.” It is justly observed by Priestley, “that a term, which only implies the idea of persons, and expresses them by some circumstance or epithet, will hardly authorize the use of who.”

“He was certainly one of the most acute metaphysicians, one of the deepest philosophers, and one of the best critics, and most learned divines, which modern times have produced.”—Keith on the Life and Writings of Campbell.

“Moses was the mildest of all men, which were then on the face of the earth.”—Geddes.

“Lord Sidney was one of the wisest and most active governors, whom Ireland had enjoyed for several years.”—Hume.

In the two first of these passages, which is improperly applied to persons; in the last, the author has avoided this impropriety, and used whom. The pronoun that, however, is much preferable to who, or which, after a superlative.

“Such of the Morescoes might remain, who demeaned themselves as Christians.”—Watson’s Life of Philip III. Such is here improperly followed by who instead of as. The correlative terms are those who, and such as.

“It is hard to be conceived, that a set of men could ever be chosen by their contemporaries, to have divine honours paid to them, while numerous persons were alive, who knew their imperfections, and who themselves, or their immediate ancestors, might have as fair a pretence, and come in competition[257] with them.”—Prideaux’s Connexion. The identity of subject, in the relative clauses of this sentence, requires the repetition of the same pronoun. It should be, “who themselves, or whose immediate ancestors.”

“If you were here, you would find three or four in the parlour, after dinner, whom you would say past their afternoons very agreeably.”—Swift. The pronoun whom should not be under the government of the verb would say, having no connection with it; but should be a nominative to the verb passed; thus, “who, you would say, passed their afternoons.”

“By these means, that religious princess became acquainted with Athenias, whom she found was the most accomplished woman of her age.” Whom, for the reason already assigned, should be who, being the nominative to the verb was. If it were intended to be a regimen to the verb found, the sentence should proceed thus, “whom she found to be.”

“Solomon was the wisest man, him only excepted, who was much greater and wiser than Solomon.” In English the absolute case is the nominative; it should, therefore, be, “he only excepted.”

“Who, instead of being useful members of society, they are pests to mankind.” Here the verb are has two nominatives, who and they, each representing the same subjects of discourse. One of them is redundant; and by the use of both, the expression becomes solecistical, there being no verb to which the relative who can be a nominative.

is faulty for the same reason, though here, perhaps, the poetic licence may be pleaded in excuse.

“It is against the laws of the realm, which, as they are preserved and maintained by your majesty’s authority, so we assure ourselves, you will not suffer them to be violated.” Which is neither a regimen nor a nominative to any verb; the sentence, therefore, is ungrammatical—Them is redundant.

“Whom do men say that I am?” The relative is here in the objective case, though there be no word in the sentence[258] by which it can be governed. In such inverted sentences, it is a good rule for those who are not well acquainted with the language to arrange the words in the natural order, beginning with the nominative and the verbs, thus, “men say, that I am who,” a sentence precisely analogous to “men say, that I am he,” the verb requiring the same case after it, as before it. Hence it is obvious, that it should be, “Who do men say that I am?”

“Who do you speak to?” It ought to be whom, the relative being under the government of the preposition, thus, “To whom do you speak?”

“Who she knew to be dead.”—Henry’s Hist. of Britain. Here also the relative should be in the objective case, under the government of the verb, thus, “whom she knew,” or “she knew whom to be dead.”

This phraseology I have already examined. In answer to Mr. Baker’s reason for condemning the phrase “than whom,” Story’s observations betray, as I conceive, extreme ignorance, and require correction. “The English,” says he, “is strictly good; for the relative whom is not in the same case with sluice, (which is the nominative to the verb blots,) but referring to its antecedent, the king of dykes, is very properly in the objective case, even though the personal pronoun he, if substituted in its place, would be in the nominative.”

If Mr. Story conceives that the relative must agree with its antecedent in case, he labours under an egregious mistake. Every page of English evinces the contrary. Yet, such must be his opinion, or his argument means nothing; for the only reason, which he offers for whom, is, that its antecedent is in the objective case. Besides, if than whom be admissible, nay proper, he will have difficulty in assigning a good reason, why it should not be also than him. But Mr. Story should have known, that, when two nouns are coupled by a conjunction, the latter term is not governed by the conjunction, but is either the nominative to the verb, or is governed by it, or by the preposition understood. The[259] sentence proceeds thus, “no sluice of mud blots with deeper sable, than he or who blots.”

“It is no wonder if such a man did not shine at the court of Queen Elizabeth, who was but another name for prudence and economy.”—Hume. The word Elizabeth, as represented in the latter clause, is here a mere word, nuda vox, and not the sign of a person; for it is said to be another name for prudence and economy. Not the person, but the word, is said to be significant of this quality. The pronoun, therefore, should be which, not who. The sentence, however, even thus corrected, would be inelegant. Better thus, “Queen Elizabeth, whose name was but another word for prudence and economy.”

“Be not diverted from thy duty by any idle reflections the silly world may make upon you.” Consistency requires either “your duty,” or “upon thee.” Thy and your, a singular and a plural pronoun, each addressed to the same individual, are incongruous.

A similar error occurs in the following passage: “I pray you, tarry all night, lodge here, that thy heart may be merry.”—Bible.

“It is more good to fall among crows than flatterers, for these only devour the dead, those the living.” The pronoun this always refers to the nearer object, that to the more remote. This distinction is here reversed. It should be, “those (crows) devour the dead; these (flatterers) the living.” I observe also, in passing, that those adjectives, whose mode of comparison is irregular, are not compared by more and most. It ought to be, “it is better.”

“It is surprising, that this people, so happy in invention, have never penetrated beyond the elements of geometry.” It should be has, this people being in the singular number. We may say, “people have,” the noun being collective, but not “this people have.”

“I and you love reading.” This is a Latinism, and not accordant with our mode of arrangement. Wolsey was right, when he said, “Ego, et rex meus;” but in English we reverse the order. It should be, “you and I.” We say also, “he and I,” “they and I.” You always precedes.

“Each of the sexes should keep within its proper bounds, and content themselves with the advantages of their particular districts.”—Addison. Here the pronoun does not agree with the word to which it refers, the word each being singular; whereas themselves and their are plural. It should be, itself and its.

A similar error occurs in the following sentence: “Some of our principal public schools have each a grammar of their own.”—Barrow on Education. It ought to be, “each a grammar of its own.” The expression is elliptical, for “schools have each (has) a grammar of its own.” Thus we say, “Simeon and Levi took each man his sword,” not their swords.—Gen. xxxiv. 25.

“Let each esteem other better than themselves.”—Bible. For the reason just given, it ought to be himself.

“So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.”—Bible. Here is a manifest solecism, the pronoun their referring to “his brother,” a singular subject.

“I wonder that such a valiant hero as you should trifle away your time in making war upon women.”—Essay on the Writings of Pope. Here the pronoun disagrees in person with the noun to which it refers, hero being of the third person, and your of the second. The connexion is, “I wonder that such a valiant hero should trifle away his time.”

“The venison, which I received yesterday, and was a present from a friend,” &c. Which is here in the objective case, and cannot properly be understood as the nominative to the verb was: better, therefore, “and which was a present.” The following sentence is still more faulty: “It was happy for them, that the storm, in which they were, and was so very severe, lasted but a short time.” This is ungrammatical, the verb “was” having no nominative. It should be, “which was.”

“There is not a sovereign state in Europe, but keeps a body of regular troops in their pay.” This expression, to say the least of it, is inelegant and awkward. Better, “its pay.” “Is any nation sensible of the lowness of their own manners?”—Kames. Nation[261] is here improperly construed as both singular and plural. It should be rather “its own.”

“The treaty he concluded can only be considered as a temporary submission, and of which he took no care to secure the continuance of it.”—Dryden. The redundancy of the words of it, renders the sentence somewhat ungrammatical. It should run thus, “The treaty he concluded can only be considered as a temporary submission, of which he took no care to secure the continuance.”

An improper reference occurs in the following sentence: “Unless one be very cautious, he will be liable to be deceived.” One here answers to the indefinite word on in French, and cannot be represented by any pronoun. It must, therefore, be repeated, thus, “Unless one be very cautious, one will be liable to be deceived.”

IMPROPRIETY.

“Give me them books.” Here the substantive pronoun is used adjectively, instead of the demonstrative those or these. The substantive pronouns, which are, strictly speaking, the only pronouns, cannot be construed as adjectives agreeing with substantives. We cannot say, “it book,” “they books,” “them books:” but “this” or “that book,” “these” or “those books.” The former phraseology may be deemed solecistical.

“Great numbers were killed on either side.”—Watson’s Philip III. “The Nile flows down the country above five hundred miles from the tropic of Cancer, and marks on either side the extent of fertility by the measure of its inundation.”—Gibbon.

It has been already observed, that the Saxon word ægther signifies each, as Gen. vii. 2. “Clean animals thou shalt take by sevens of each kind,” ægthres gecyndes. The English word either is sometimes used in the same sense. But as this is the only word in our language, by which we can express “one of two,” “which of the two you please,” and as it is generally employed in that sense, perspicuity requires that it be strictly confined to this signification. For, if either be used equivocally, it must, in many cases, be utterly impossible for human ingenuity to ascertain, whether only “one of two,” or “both,” be intended. In such expressions, for example,[262] as “take either side,” “the general ordered his troops to march on either bank,” how is the reader or hearer to divine, whether both sides, both banks, or only one, be signified? By employing each to express “both,” taken individually, and either to denote “one of the two,” all ambiguity is removed.

“The Bishop of Clogher intends to call on you this morning, as well as your humble servant, in my return from Chapel Izzard.”—Addison to Swift. After the writer has spoken of himself in the third person, there is an impropriety in employing the pronoun of the first. Much better “in his return.”

“The ends of a divine and human legislator are vastly different.”—Warburton. From this sentence it would seem, that there is only one subject of discourse, the ends belonging to one individual, a divine and human legislator. The author intended to express two different subjects, namely, “the objects of a divine,” and “the objects of a human legislator.” The demonstrative those is omitted. It should be, “the ends of a divine, and those of a human legislator, are vastly different.” This error consists in defect, or an improper ellipsis of the pronoun: in the following sentence the error is redundancy. “They both met on a trial of skill.” Both means “they two,” as ambo in Latin is equivalent to “ οἱ δύο” It should therefore be, “both met on a trial of skill.”

“These two men (A and B) are both equal in strength.” This, says Baker, is nonsense; for these words signify only, that A is equal in strength, and B equal in strength, without implying to whom; so that the word equal has nothing to which it refers. “A and B,” says he, “are equal in strength,” is sense; this means, that they are equal to each other. “A and B are both equal in strength to C,” is likewise sense. It signifies, that A is equal to C, and that B likewise is equal to C. Thus Mr. Baker. Now, it appears to me, that, when he admits the expression, “are both equal,” as significant of the equality of each, he admits a phraseology which does not strictly convey that idea. For if we say, “A and B are both equal,” it seems to me to imply, that the two individuals are possessed of two attributes or qualities, one of which is here expressed; and in this sense only, as I conceive, is this phraseology correct. Thus we may say, with strict propriety,[263] “A and B are both equal in strength, and superior in judgment to their contemporaries.” Or it may denote, that “they two together, namely, A and B, are equal to C singly.” In the former case, both is necessarily followed by and, which is in Latin rendered by et. Thus, “A and B are the two things, (both) equal in strength, and (add) superior in judgment to their contemporaries.” In the latter case, it is equivalent to ambo, expressing two collectively, as, “they two together are equal to C, but not separately.” I am aware, that the word both in English, like ambo in Latin, is an ambiguous term, denoting either “the two collectively,” or “the two separately,” and that many examples of the latter usage may be adduced. But that surely cannot be deemed a correct or appropriate term, which, in its strict signification, conveys an idea different from that intended by the speaker; or which leaves the sentiment in obscurity, and the reader in doubt. The word each, substituted for both, renders the expression clear and precise, thus, “A and B are each equal to C, in strength.”[144]

An error the reverse of this occurs in the following sentence: “This proves, that the date of each letter must have been nearly coincident.” Coincident with what? Not surely with itself; nor can the date of each letter be coincident with each other. It should be, “that the dates of both letters must have been nearly coincident with each other.”

“It’s great cruelty to torture a poor dumb animal.” Better, ’Tis, in order to distinguish the contraction from the genitive singular of the pronoun it.

“Neither Lady Haversham, nor Miss Mildmay, will ever believe but what I have been entirely to blame.” The pronoun what, equivalent to that which, is here improperly used for that. This mode of expression still obtains among the lower orders of the people, and is not confined to them in the northern parts of the island. It should be, “that I have been.” The converse of this error occurs in the following passages:

“That all our doings may be ordered by thy governance,[264] to do always that is righteous in thy sight.”—Book of Common Prayer.

“For, if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted, according to that a man hath.”—Bible.

The pronouns it and that were formerly used as including the relative. “This submission is it implieth them all.” “This is it men mean by distributive justice.”—Hobbes. “To consider advisedly of that is moved.”—Bacon. This usage is now obsolete. The clauses should therefore proceed thus, “to do always what,” or “that, which is righteous.” “According to what,” or “that, which a man hath.”

SECTION IV.
THE VERB.

BARBARISM.

“Thus did the French ambassadors, with great show of their king’s affection, and many sugared words, seek to addulce all matters between the two kings.”—Bacon. The verb “to addulce” is obsolete.

The verb “to example,” as equivalent to the phrase “to set an example,” is obsolete; and when used for “to exemplify,” may be deemed obsolescent. “The proof whereof,” says Spencer in his State of Ireland, “I saw sufficiently exampled;” better “exemplified.”

“I called at noon at Mrs. Masham’s, who desired me not to let the prophecy be published, for fear of angering the queen.”—Swift. The verb “to anger” is almost obsolete. In Scotland, and in the northern part of England, it is still colloquially used; but in written language, of respectable authority, it now rarely occurs. I have met with it once or twice in Swift or Pope; since their time it appears to have been gradually falling into disuse.

“Shall we once more go to fight against our brethren, or[265] shall we surcease?”—Geddes’s Transl. The verb to “surcease” is obsolete.

“And they and he, upon this incorporation and institution, and onyng of themself into a realme, ordaynyd,” &c.—Fortescue. Here we have the participle of the verb “to one,” now obsolete, for “to unite.”

“For it is no power to may alien, and put away; but it is a power to may have, and kepe to himself. So it is no power to may syne, and to do ill, or to may be syke, or wex old, or that a man may hurt himself; for all thees powers comyne of impotencye.”—Ib. It has been already observed, that the verb may is derived from the Saxon mægan, posse.—See p. 97. From the passage before us it appears, that in the time of Fortescue (anno 1440) the infinitive “to may,” for “to be able,” was in use. It has now been long obsolete. In the following passage, it forms what is called a compound tense with the word shall, the sign of the infinitive being suppressed. “Wherthorough the parlements schall may do more good in a moneth.”—Ib. That is, “shall be able to do.”

“Wherefor al, that he dothe owith to be referryed to his kingdom.”—Ib. The verb to owe, as expressive of duty, is now obsolete. It has been supplanted by ought, formerly its preterite tense, and now used as a present. We should now say, “ought to be referred.”

“Both these articles were unquestionably true, and could easily have been proven.”—Henry’s History of Britain. “Admitting the charges against the delinquents to be fully proven.”—Belsham’s History. Proven is now obsolete, having given place to the regular participle. It is still, however, used in Scotland, and is therefore deemed a Scotticism.

“Methoughts I returned to the great hall, where I had been the morning before.” Methoughts is barbarous, and also violates analogy, the third person being thought, and not thoughts.

SOLECISM.

“You was busy, when I called.” Here a pronoun plural is joined with a verb in the singular number. It should be, “you were.”

“The keeping good company, even the best, is but a less[266] shameful art of losing time. What we here call science and study are little better.” What is equivalent to that which. It should be is, and not are; thus, “that, which we call ... is little better.”

“Three times three is nine,” and “three times three are nine,” are modes of expression in common use; and it has become a question, which is the more correct. The Romans admitted both phraseologies. “Quinquies et vicies duceni quadrageni singuli fiunt sex millia et viginti quinque.”—Colum. Here the distributive numerals are the nominatives to the verb. “Ubi est septies millies sestertium.”—Cic. Here the adverbial numerals make the nominative, and the verb is singular. Plurality being evidently implied, the plural verb seems more consonant with our natural conception of numbers, as well as with the idiom of our language.

“This is one of those highwaymen, that was condemned last sessions.” According to the grammatical construction of this sentence, “one of those highwaymen” is the predicate; for the syntactical arrangement is, “This (highwayman), that was condemned last sessions, is one of those highwaymen.” But this is not the meaning which this sentence is in general intended to convey: for it is usually employed to denote, that several highwaymen were condemned, and that this is one of them. The sentence, therefore, thus understood, is ungrammatical; for the antecedent is, in this case, not one, but highwaymen. The relative, therefore, being plural, should be joined with a plural verb, thus, “This is one of those highwaymen, that were condemned last sessions.”

“I had went to Lisbon, before you knew that I had arrived in England.” This is an egregious solecism, the auxiliary verb had, which requires the perfect participle, being here joined with the preterite tense. It should be, “I had gone.”

“He would not fall the trees this season.” The verb “to fall” is intransitive, and cannot therefore be followed by an objective case, denoting a thing acted upon. It should be, “he would not fell.”

“Let him know, that I shall be over in spring, and that[267] by all means he sells the horses.”—Swift. Here we have in the latter clause a thing expressed as done or doing, for a thing commanded. It should be, “that he should sell;” or elliptically, “that he sell.”

“It is very probable that neither of these are the meaning of the text.” Neither, means, “not the one, nor the other,” denoting the exclusion of each of two things. It should, therefore, be, “neither is the meaning of the text.”

“He was a man, whose vices were very great, and had the art to conceal them from the eyes of the public.” According to the grammatical construction of this sentence, vices understood is the nominative to the verb had; thus, “whose vices were very great, and whose vices had the art to conceal them.” It should be, “and who had the art to conceal them.”

“At the foot of this hill was soon built such a number of houses, that amounted to a considerable city.” Here the verb amounted has no nominative. To render the sentence grammatical, it should be, “that they amounted,” or “as amounted to a considerable city.”

“It requires more logic than you possess, to make a man to believe that prodigality is not a vice.” After the verb “to make,” the sign of the infinitive should be omitted. See Rule xv. note 3.

“He dare not,” “he need not,” may be justly pronounced solecisms, for “he dares,” “he needs.”

“How do your pulse beat?” Pulse is a noun singular, and is here ungrammatically joined with a verb plural. It should be, “how does your pulse beat?”

“The river had overflown its banks.” Overflown is the participle of the verb to fly, compounded with over. It should be “overflowed,” the participle of “overflow.”

“They that sin rebuke before all.” The pronoun, which should be the regimen of the verb rebuke, is here put in the nominative case. It should, therefore, be them. The natural order is, “rebuke them, that sin.”

“There are principles innate in man, which ever have, and ever will incline him to this offence.” If the ellipsis be supplied, the sentence will be found to be ungrammatical; thus “which ever have incline, and ever will incline.” It should be, “which ever have inclined, and ever will incline.”

“Nor is it easy to conceive that in substituting the manners of Persia to those of Rome, he was actuated by vanity.”—Gibbon. “Substitute to,” is a Latinism. It should be, “substitute for.”

“I had rather live in forty Irelands, than under the frequent disquiets of hearing, that you are out of order.”—Swift’s Letters. “You had better return home without delay.” In both these examples would is far preferable, thus, “I would rather live,” “you would better return,” or “you would do better to return.”

“That he had much rather be no king at all, than have heretics for his subjects.”—Watson’s Philip III. Here is involved the same error. It should be, “he would.”

“The nobility of England consisted only of one duke, four earls, one viscount, and twenty-nine barons, all the nobles of the Lancastrian party having been either killed in battles, or on scaffolds, or had fled into foreign parts.”—Henry’s History. This sentence is ungrammatical. The word nobles joined to the participle having must be regarded as put absolutely, and therefore to the verb had there is strictly no nominative. But, even were a nominative introduced, the structure of the sentence would be still highly objectionable, the two last clauses, “having been killed,” and “they had fled,” being utterly discordant one with the other. The primary idea to be expressed is the fewness of the nobility; this forms the subject of the principal clause. There are two reasons to be assigned for this fewness, their destruction and their flight; these form the subjects of the two subordinate clauses. Between these two, therefore, there should be the strictest congruity; and in this respect the sentence is faulty. It ought to proceed either thus, “The nobility of England consisted only of one duke, four earls, one viscount, and twenty-nine barons; for all the nobles of the Lancastrian party had either been killed in battles, or on scaffolds, or had fled into foreign parts;” or thus, “all the nobles having been killed, or having fled.” The latter is the preferable form.

“He neglected to profit of this occurrence.” This phraseology occurs frequently in Hume. “To profit of,” is a Gallicism; it ought to be, “to profit by this occurrence.”

“The people of England may congratulate to themselves,[269] that the nature of our government and the clemency of our king, secure us.”—Dryden. “Congratulate to,” is a Latinism. The person congratulated should be in the objective case governed by the verb; the subject is preceded by the preposition on, as, “I congratulate you on your arrival.”

“A priest newly arrived to the north-west parts of Ireland.”—Swift’s Sacr. Test.

In these examples the verb “to arrive,” is followed by to, instead of at, an error which should be carefully avoided. Good writers never construe it with the preposition significant of motion or progression concluded, but with those prepositions which denote propinquity or inclusion, namely, at or in. Hence also to join this verb with adverbs, expressive of motion to, or towards a place, is improper. We should say, “he arrived here, there, where,” not—“hither, thither, whither.”

“Elizabeth was not unconcerned; she remonstrated to James.”—Andrew’s Continuation of Henry’s History. This is incorrect. We remonstrate with and not to a person, and against a thing.

“I am the Lord that maketh all things, that stretcheth forth the heavens alone, that spreadeth the earth abroad by myself.” According to the structure of the second and third clauses of this sentence, the Lord is the antecedent to that, which is, therefore, properly joined with the third person of the verbs following, “maketh,” “spreadeth;” but the pronoun of the first person, myself, in the last clause, does not accord with this structure; for as we cannot say, “he spreadeth the earth by myself,” there being only one agent implied, and where he and myself are supposed to allude to one person, so we cannot say, “that (Lord) spreadeth the earth by myself,” but “by himself,” an identity of person being indispensably requisite. The sentence, therefore, should conclude thus, “that spreadeth abroad the earth by himself.” If myself be retained, the pronoun I must be considered as the antecedent, and the sentence will then run thus: “I am the Lord, that make all things, that stretch forth the heavens alone, that spread abroad the earth by myself.”

The antecedent to the pronoun who is the pronoun of the second person singular. The relative, therefore, being of the same person, should be joined to the second person singular of the verb, namely, “confinedst.”

“The executive directory, to prove that they will not reject any means of reconciliation, declares,” &c.—Belsham’s Hist. The nominative is here joined to a verb singular, and at the same time represented by a pronoun plural. The error may be corrected either by the substitution of it for they, or declare instead of declares.

“These friendly admonitions of Swift, though they might sometimes produce good effects, in particular cases, when properly timed, yet could they do but little towards eradicating faults.”—Sheridan. The nominative admonitions is connected with no verb, the pronoun they being the nominative to the verb could. The sentence, therefore, is ungrammatical; nor can the figure hyperbaton be here pleaded in excuse, as the simplicity and shortness of the sentence render it unnecessary. They in the third clause should be suppressed.

“This dedication may serve for almost any book, that has, is, or shall be published.”—Bolingbroke. Has being merely a part of a compound tense, conveys no precise meaning without the rest of the tense. When joined, then, to the participle, here belonging to the three auxiliaries, the sentence proceeds thus, “This dedication may serve for almost any book, that has published.” It ought to be “has been, is, or shall be published.” The following sentence is chargeable with an error of the same kind.

“This part of knowledge has been always growing, and will do so, till the subject be exhausted.” Do what? The auxiliary cannot refer to been, for the substantive verb, or verb of existence, does not imply action, nor can we say, “do growing.” It ought to be, “has been growing, and will still be so.”

“All that can be now urged, is the reason of the thing, and[271] this I shall do.”—Warburton. Here is a similar incongruity. He should have said, “and this shall be done.”

Some of the preceding errors, with those which follow under this head, may be denominated rather inaccuracies, than solecisms.

“’T was twenty years and more, that I have known him,” says Pope to Gay, speaking of Congreve’s death. It ought to be, “It is twenty years and more,” the period concluding with the present time, or the time then present. He might have said, “It is now twenty years,” where the adverb now, being obviously admissible, points to present time, and necessarily excludes the preterite tense. Pope says, “’T was twenty years.” When? not surely in some part of the past time, but at the time of writing.

“It were well for the insurgents, and fortunate for the king, if the blood, that was now shed, had been thought a sufficient expiation for the offence.”—Goldsmith. “It were,” which is equivalent to “it would be,” is evidently incongruous with the following tense, “had been thought.” It ought to be, as he was speaking of past time, “it would have been,” or, “it had been, well for the insurgents.”

“Was man like his Creator in wisdom and goodness, I should be for allowing this great model.”—Addison. This form of expression cannot be pronounced entirely repugnant to analogy, the preterite of the auxiliary “to have” being used in a similar sense. But the verb “to be” having a mood appropriate to the expression of conditionality, the author should have said, “Were man like his Creator.”

“If you please to employ your thoughts on that subject, you would easily conceive the miserable condition many of us are in.”—Steele. Here there is obviously an incongruity of tense. It should be either, “if you please to employ, you will conceive,” or “if it pleased you to employ, you would conceive.”

“James used to compare him to a cat, who always fell upon her legs.”—Adam’s Hist. of England. Here the latter clause, which is intended to predicate an attribute of the species, expresses simply a particular fact; in other words, what is intended to be signified as equally true of all, is here limited[272] to one of the kind. It should be, “always falls upon her legs.”

“This is the last time I shall ever go to London.” This mode of expression, though very common, is certainly improper after the person is gone, and can be proper only before he sets out. The French speak correctly when they say, “la dernière fois que je vais,” i.e. the last time of my going. We ought to say, “this is the last time I shall be in London.”

“He accordingly draws out his forces, and offers battle to Hiero, who immediately accepted it.” Consistency requires, that the last verb be in the same tense with the preceding verbs. The actions are described as present; the language is graphical, and that which has been properly enough denominated the “historical tense” should not be employed. It ought to be, “who immediately accepts it.”

“I have lost this game, though I thought I should have won it.” It ought to be, “though I thought I should win it.” This is an error of the same kind, as, “I expected to have seen you,” “I intended to have written.” The preterite time is expressed by the tenses “expected,” “intended;” and, how far back soever that expectation or intention may be referred, the seeing or writing must be considered as contemporary, or as soon to follow; but cannot, without absurdity, be considered as anterior. It should be, “I expected to see,” “I intended to write.” Priestley, in defending the other phraseology, appears to me to have greatly erred, the expression implying a manifest impossibility. The action, represented as the object of an expectation or intention, and therefore, in respect to these, necessarily future, cannot surely, without gross absurdity, be exhibited as past, or antecedent to these. In the following passage the error seems altogether indefensible. “The most uncultivated Asiatics discover that sensibility, which, from their situation on the globe, we should expect them to have felt.”—Robertson’s History of America. The author expresses himself, as if he referred to a past sensation, while the introductory verb shows that he alludes to a general fact. The incongruity is obvious. He should have said, “expect them to feel.”

Much better, “Fierce as he moves.” Congruity of tense is thus preserved; and there is, besides, a peculiar beauty in employing the present,—a beauty, of which the preterite is wholly incapable. The former imparts vivacity to the expression; it presents the action, with graphical effect, to the mind of the reader; and thus, by rendering him a spectator of the scene, impresses the imagination, and rouses the feelings with greater energy. Compared to the latter, it is like the pencil of the artist to the pen of the historian.

“Jesus answering said unto him, What wilt thou, that I should do unto thee?” The blind man said unto him: “Lord, that I might receive my sight.” It ought to be, “that I may receive my sight,” I will being understood; thus, “I will, that I may receive my sight,” where the present wish, and the attainment of it, are properly represented as contemporary.

“These things have I spoken unto you, that your joy might be full.” Better, “that your joy may be full.”

“If an atheist would peruse the volume of nature, he would confess, that there was a God.” Universal, or abstract truths, require the present tense; it should be, “that there is a God.”

“ ... impresses us with a feeling, as if refinement was nothing, as if faculties were nothing, as if virtue was nothing, as if all that was sweetest, and all that was highest in human nature was an idle show.”—Godwin’s Life of Chaucer. This sentence errs at once against elegance and accuracy. The former offence may be partly corrected, by substituting the conditional for the indicative tense, in the hypothetical clauses. But the author’s principal error consists in converting a general proposition into a particular fact, by representing that as past which is always present and immutable. The sentence should proceed thus: “Impresses us with a feeling, as if refinement were nothing, as if faculties were nothing, as if virtue were nothing, as if all that is sweetest, and all that is highest in human nature, were an idle show.”

A similar error occurs in this passage: “He proceeded to demonstrate, that death was not an evil;” and also in this, “I have frequently been assured by great ministers, that politics were nothing, but common sense.”

“Tom has wit enough to make him a pleasant companion, was it polished by good manners.” As the latter clause is intended to be purely hypothetical, the verb should not be in the indicative mood. “Were it polished,” is the proper expression.

“He understood the language of Balnibarbi, although it were different from that of this island.”—Swift’s Voyage to Laputa. From the phraseology here employed, the reader might naturally infer, that the language of the island, and that of Balnibarbi, were identical; for a concessive term, as I have already said, when joined to what is called the conjunctive form of the verb, implies pure hypothesis, as contrary to fact; or, in other words, implies a negation of the attribute expressed. The author’s intention was to signify, that the languages were not the same. He should, therefore, have said, “although it was different.”

“The circumstances were as follows.” Several grammarians and critics have approved this phraseology; I am inclined, however, to concur with those, who prefer “as follow.” To justify the former mode of expression, the verb must be considered as impersonal. This, I own, appears to me a very questionable solution of the difficulty; for I am convinced, that we have no impersonal verbs in English, but such as are uniformly preceded by it. We frequently, indeed, meet with sentences, where verbs occur without a nominative, and in the singular number. These are, by some, considered as impersonal verbs, to which the nominative it is understood. I apprehend, however, that, on strict inquiry, some one or other of the preceding words, which are now considered as conjunctions, adverbs, or particles, was originally the nominative; and that it is only since the primitive and real character of these words has been obliterated and lost, that we have found it necessary to inquire for another nominative. Thus, if the word as be equivalent to it, that, or which[145], then it is obvious, that, when we say, “the circumstances were[275] as follows,” there is no real ellipsis of the nominative involved, nor, therefore, any ground for asserting the impersonality of the verb, in order to explain the syntax, or construction of the phrase; for the word as, equivalent to it, that, or which, is the true nominative. It is evident, then, that this solution of the difficulty must be rejected as false; and that the argument in favour of “as follows,” resting on the supposed impersonality of the verb, and the suppression of the pronoun, is entirely unfounded.

If as then be the nominative to the verb, and be synonymous with it, that, or which, it is of importance to determine, whether as be a singular, or a plural word; or whether it be either the one, or the other. That it is construed as singular, there can be no doubt. We say, “his insensibility is such, as excites our detestation.” That it is also joined to a verb plural is equally certain, thus, “his manners are such, as are universally pleasing.” In the former example, such as is equivalent to that which, and in the latter to those which. If as, then, be either singular or plural, and synonymous with it, that, or which, I conceive that, when it refers to a plural antecedent, it must, like which, be considered as plural, and joined to a plural verb. Now, it is surely more consonant with analogy to say, “the circumstances were, which follow,” than it follows, or that follows. Besides, when the demonstrative such precedes, and is joined to a plural noun, it is universally admitted, that as must then be followed by a plural verb. If so, the construction of the word as cannot, I apprehend, be in the least degree affected by the ellipsis of the correlative term. Let us now hear those who adopt the contrary opinion.

Baker prefers the verb singular, and remarks “that there are instances in our language of verbs in the third person without a nominative case, as, ‘he censures her, so far as regards.’” In answer to this it may be observed, that, if the word as is to be considered in no other light, than as a conjunctive particle, it is certainly true, that the verb regards has no nominative. But I am persuaded, no person who has examined the theory of Mr. Tooke can entertain a doubt respecting the original and real character of this word. Nay,[276] if we investigate the true and primitive import of the correspondent Latin terms ut and uti, we shall find, that these, which are termed adverbs, are, in fact, the pronouns ὅτι, ὁτ’, and that quod (anciently written quodde) is nothing else than καὶ ὅττι, which, like our word that, is sometimes called a conjunction, and sometimes a pronoun. Why the original character and real import of the word as have been completely merged in the name of adverb, while the word that has been assigned the double character of pronoun and conjunction, it would be easy to show, if the discussion were essential to the question before us. But in answer to Baker’s remark, it is sufficient to observe, that as means properly it, that, or which.

Campbell adopts the opinion of Baker. “When a verb,” says he, “is used impersonally, it ought undoubtedly to be in the singular number, whether the neuter pronoun be expressed or understood.” But a question naturally arises, whence has the author learned that the verb is impersonal? There appears to me to be no more impersonality in the verb, when we say, “it is as follows,” than when we say, “it is such, as follows,” or, “they are such, as follow.” If as be admitted as the nominative in two of these examples, I can perceive no reason for rejecting it in the third. But here lies, as will presently appear, the author’s great error. Unacquainted with the true meaning of the word as, he conceived it as incapable of becoming a nominative to a verb, as ut or uti is deemed in Latin; and he therefore immediately recurs to ellipsis.

“For this reason” (that is, because the verb is impersonal), he proceeds to observe, “analogy as well as usage favour this mode of expression, The conditions of the agreement were as follows, and not as follow.”

How analogy favours this mode of expression, I am utterly at a loss to conceive. The general rule surely is, that to every verb there shall be a nominative, and that this nominative shall be expressed, unless its presence in some preceding clause shall render the repetition of it unnecessary. But how is it consonant with analogy, that no nominative shall appear; or that the supposed nominative shall not be found in any part of the sentence? This surely is repugnant to analogy.

“A few late writers,” he observes, “have inconsiderately adopted this last form (as follow) through a mistake of the construction.” But, if the verb be not impersonal, the error is his, not theirs. I must observe, likewise, that from the manner in which the author expresses himself, one would naturally infer, that a few writers, either contemporary, or immediately preceding his own time, had inconsiderately introduced a solecism into our language. When he offered this observation, he surely was not aware that Steele and Addison, nearly seventy years before the publication of “The Philosophy of Rhetoric,” used the plural form. “The most eminent of the kennel,” says Steele, “are blood-hounds, which lead the van, and are as follow.”—Tatler, No. 62. “The words were as follow.”—Ibid. No. 104. “The words are as follow.”—Addison, Spectator, No. 513.

“For the same reason,” continues he, still presuming the verb to be impersonal, “we ought to say, I shall consider his censures so far only, as concerns my friend’s conduct, not concern. It is manifest,” he observes, “that the word conditions in the first case, and censures in the second, cannot serve as nominatives.” This observation demonstrates that the author’s argument is founded in his ignorance of the real character of the word as. The most extraordinary part of his reasoning follows. “But,” says he, “if we give either sentence another turn, and instead of as, say such as, the verb is no longer impersonal. The pronoun such is the nominative, whose number is determined by its antecedent. Thus we must say, they were such as follow; such of his censures only as concern my friend.” This is truly an extraordinary assertion. The antecedent correlative term such can have no connexion whatever with the subsequent verb, but must agree with the principal subject of discourse. Not only does analogy require this, but the usage of every language with which I am acquainted. If we say, Perseverantia fuit tanta, quantus erat furor. Is est, quem dicimus. Talis est, qualem esse creditis. Illæ erant conditiones, quæ sequuntur,—the antecedent correlative terms tanta, is, talis, illæ,—have no connexion whatever with the verbs in the subsequent clause, erat, dicimus, creditis, sequuntur. The truth of this observation[278] must be sufficiently obvious to every classical scholar.

But to illustrate the extreme inaccuracy of the learned author’s opinion, let us change the correlative terms, and say, “I will consider those censures only, which concern my friend.” In this sentence it will not be questioned that those and censures are in the objective case, under the government of the verb. And can it be doubted, if we say, “I will consider such censures,” that censures with its concordant adjective are in the same case? It is impossible, I conceive, to make this plainer; but we shall suppose, for the sake of illustration, if this should yet be deemed necessary, the example in question to be thus rendered in Latin, eas tantum reprehensiones perpendam, quæ ad amicum meum attinent. Now, what should we think of his classical attainments who should contend that eas or reprehensiones is the nominative to the verb? If we revert, then, to the original terms, and say, “I will consider such of his censures as concern my friend,” by what rule of grammar, by what principle of analysis, can we suppose such to be the nominative to the verb? For let me ask, what is he to consider? Is it not such censures? And are we, contrary to every principle of English grammar, to represent the object or subject after an active verb, as in the nominative case? The absurdity is too monstrous for a moment’s consideration. The very argument, therefore, by which the author defends his doctrine is founded in error, and involves an absurdity. Murray, as usual, adopts the opinion of Campbell.

If it should be inquired how as, an adverb or a conjunctive particle, can be the nominative to a verb, it may be answered, that to whatever order of words we reduce this term, it was evidently at first what we denominate a pronoun; and that it still so far retains its primitive character as to supply the place of a nominative. It is of little moment by what designation it be called, if its character and real import are well understood, any more than it can be of consequence whether we call that a conjunction or a pronoun, provided we know, that it is truly and essentially the same word in the same meaning wherever it occurs. I would observe, also, though[279] my limits will not permit me to illustrate the principle, that those, who disapprove the verb singular in the examples in question, may notwithstanding admit it in such expressions as so far as, so long as, and all similar phraseologies.

“To illustrate, and often to correct him, I have meditated Tacitus, examined Suetonius, and consulted the following moderns.”—Gibbon. To meditate, when a regimen is assigned to it, as here, means to plot, to contrive, as, “he meditated designs against the state.” When it signifies to ponder, or to reflect seriously, it should be followed by the preposition on, as, “he meditates on the law of God day and night.”

IMPROPRIETY.

“They form a procession to proceed the palanquin of the ambassador.”—Anderson’s Embassy to China. Here the verb to proceed, or go forward, is improperly used for to precede, or to go before.

“He waved the subject of his greatness.”—Dryden. “To wave” is properly “to move loosely,” and should be distinguished from “to waive,” i.e. “to leave” or “to turn from.”—See Skinner’s Etym.

“It lays on the table; it laid on the table.” This error is very common, and should be carefully avoided. The verb to lay is an active verb; to lie is a neuter verb. When the subject of discourse is active, the former is to be used; when the subject is neither active nor passive, the latter ought to be employed. Thus, “he lays down the book,” “he laid down the book,” where the nominative expresses an agent, or a person acting. “The book lies there,” “the book lay there,” where the nominative expresses something, neither active, nor passive. When we hear such expressions as these, “he lays in bed,” “he laid in bed,” a question naturally occurs, what does he lay? what did he lay? This question demonstrates the impropriety of the expressions. The error has originated, partly in an affected delicacy, rejecting the verb “to lie,” as being synonymous with the verb “to tell a falsehood wilfully,” and partly from the identity of the one verb in the present with the other in the preterite sense; thus, “lay,” “laid,” “laid;” “lie,” “lay,” “lain.”

“The child was overlain.” The participle, for the reason now given, should be overlaid.

“It has been my brother you saw in the theatre, and not my cousin.” This use of the preterite definite is, I believe, confined to Scotland, where, in colloquial language, it is very common. The Scots employ it in those cases, in which an Englishman uses either the preterite indefinite, or the verb signifying necessity. Thus, in the preceding instance, an Englishman would say, “it must have been my brother, you saw in the theatre.”

“Without having attended to this, we will be at a loss in understanding several passages in the classics.”—Blair’s Lectures. “In the Latin language, there are no two words we would more readily take to be synonymous, than amare and diligere.”—Ib. This error occurs frequently in Blair. In the former example it should be shall, and in the latter should. (See p. 98.)

An error, the reverse of this, occurs in the following passage. “There is not a girl in town, but let her have her will, in going to a mask, and she shall dress like a shepherdess.”—Spectator, No. 9. It should be, she will. The author intended to signify mere futurity; instead of which he has expressed a command.

“He rose the price of bread last week.” Here rose, the preterite of the neuter verb to rise, and, therefore, unsusceptible of a regimen, is ungrammatically joined with an objective case, instead of raised, the preterite of the active verb to raise. This error, therefore, involves a solecism, as well as an impropriety.

“Does the price of bread raise this week?” This error is the converse of the former, the active verb being here used instead of the neuter. The question, What does it raise? shows the impropriety of the expression. It ought to be, “Does the price of bread rise this week?” These verbs, like the verb to lay and to lie, are very often confounded in vulgar use.

“It would be injurious to the character of Prince Maurice, to suppose, that he would demean himself so far, as to be concerned in those anonymous pamphlets.”—Watson’s Philip III.[281] Here the verb to demean, which signifies “to behave,” is used as equivalent to the verb to debase, or “to degrade.” This impropriety is now, I believe, almost entirely confined to Scotland; it has, therefore, been ranked in the number of Scotticisms. “I demean myself” is equivalent to “I behave myself;” and in this sense the author last quoted has, in another passage, very properly used it. “Such of the Morescoes might remain, who, for any considerable time, demeaned themselves as Christians.”—Ibid.

“Considerable arrears being now resting to the soldiers.”—Ibid. “Resting,” which is equivalent to “being quiet,” or “remaining,” is, in the sense in which it is here employed, a rank Scotticism: it should be, “due,” or “owing.”

“The reason will be accounted for hereafter.”—Warburton. Accounted for is here improperly used for assigned. “To account for a reason,” is “to account for an account.”

“But no evidence is admitted in the house of lords, this being a distinct jurisdiction, which differs it considerably from these instances.”—Blackstone. The verb to differ is a neuter verb, and cannot admit a regimen. The author has improperly used it in an active sense, for “to make to differ.” It should be, “by which it differs,” or “which makes it differ considerably from these instances.”[146]

“In order to have this project reduced to practice, there seems to want nothing more, than to put those in mind,” &c.—Swift. Here, “to want,” that is, “to need,” “to require,” is improperly used for “to be wanting,” “to be required,” “to be wanted.” It should be, “there seems to be nothing wanting.” The verb to want was frequently employed by Pope and Swift in the sense in which we here find it. Johnson, likewise, in one or two passages, has adopted the same usage, thus, “there had never wanted writers to talk occasionally of Arcadia and Strephon.”—Life of Phillips. But in this sense it may now be deemed obsolescent, if not entirely obsolete.

The reader will here permit me to observe, that there is an idiom in our language, respecting the use of active for passive verbs, which seems worthy of attention, and which I do not recollect to have seen remarked by any of our grammarians.[283] In the languages of antiquity, the distinction between active and passive was strictly observed; but in English the active is frequently employed for the passive voice. Of this remarkable idiom numberless examples might be produced; but the few following will suffice. Thus we say, “the sentence reads ill,” “the wine drinks harsh,” “the grass cuts easily,” “the apples eat hard,” “the drum beats to arms,” “the metal works well.” In these examples, the subject clearly is acted upon; the verb, therefore, must be considered as having a passive signification. It is almost unnecessary to observe, that this phraseology should be avoided, whenever it is likely to create ambiguity.

“Lead me forth in thy truth, and learn me.”—Book of Common Prayer, Psal. xxv. The verb to learn formerly denoted, either “to teach,” or “to acquire knowledge.” In the former sense it is now obsolete. It should therefore be, “lead me forth in thy truth, and teach me.”

“Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings by thy most gracious favour.”—Book of Common Prayer. “He had prevented the hour, because we might have the whole day before us.”—Bacon. The verb to prevent, as signifying “to go before,” or “come before,” is now obsolete.

“There was no longer any doubt, that the king was determined to wreck his resentment on all concerned.”—Watson’s Philip II.

“They not only wrecked their vengeance on the living, but on the ashes of the dead heretics.”—Henry’s Britain.

Here the verb to wreck, or “to destroy, by dashing on rocks,” is improperly used for “to wreak,” or “to discharge.” In the last example the adverbs not only are improperly placed. It should be, “they wreaked their vengeance not only,” &c.

“We outrun our present income, not doubting to disburse ourselves out of the profits of some future plan.”—Addison. “To disburse,” or “to expend money,” is here improperly used for “to reimburse,” or “to repay.”

“The last is the most simple, and the most perfect, as[284] being conform to the nature of knowledge.”—Hutton’s Investigation, vol. i. p. 643. Conform, here used for conformable, is, in this sense, deemed a Scotticism.

SECTION V.
THE ADVERB.

BARBARISM.

“Friendship, a rare thing in princes, more rare between princes, that so holily was observed to the last, of those two excellent men.”—Sidney on Government. Holily is obsolete.

“Enquire, what be the stones, that do easiliest melt.”—Bacon. The adverb easily is not compared,—see p. 70. Easiliest is, therefore, a barbarism.

“Their wonder, that any man so near Jerusalem should be a stranger to what had passed there, their acknowledgment to one they met accidently, that they believed in this prophet,” &c.—Guardian. Steele has here used accidently, for accidentally. The former is a barbarism, and its derivation is repugnant to analogy.

Whilom is now entirely disused. The adverbs whilere, erst, and perhaps also anon, may be ranked in the class of barbarisms.

“And this attention gives ease to the person, because the clothes appear unstudily graceful.”—Wollstonecraft’s Original Stories. The word unstudily is barbarous, and its mode of derivation contrary to analogy.

SOLECISM.

“Use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake, and thine often infirmities.” Often, an adverb, is here improperly used as[285] an adjective, in accordance with the substantive “infirmities.” It ought to be “thy frequent infirmities.”

“We may cast in such seeds and principles, as we judge most likely to take soonest and deepest root.” Here, as in the preceding example, the adverb “soonest” is used as an adjective; for the connexion is, “soonest root,” and “deepest root.” Now, we cannot say “soon root,” the former term being incapable of qualifying the latter; nor can we, therefore, say, “soonest root.” It ought to be, “the earliest and the deepest root.”

“After these wars, of which they hope for a soon and prosperous issue.” Soon issue is another example of the same error.

“His lordship inveighed, with severity, against the conduct of the then ministry.” Here then, the adverb equivalent to at that time, is solecistically employed as an adjective, agreeing with ministry. This error seems to gain ground; it should therefore be vigilantly opposed, and carefully avoided. “The ministry of that time,” would be correct.

“He tells them, that the time should come, that the temple should be graced with the presence of the Messias.” Here that is incorrectly used for when, i.e. “at which time the temple should be graced.”

IMPROPRIETY.

“By letters, dated the third of May, we learn that the West India fleet arrived safely.” Here safely is improperly used for safe. The adverb is equivalent to “in a safe manner;” and when it is said, “that the fleet arrived safely,” it signifies that the manner of the arrival, rather than the fleet itself, was safe or free from accident. If I say, “he carried the parcel as safely as possible,” it implies merely his great attention to the manner of carrying it; but this does not infallibly exclude accident; for I may add, “but he unluckily fell,” or, “he was unfortunately thrown down, and the glass was broken.” But if I say, “he carried it as safe as possible,” or, “he carried it safe,” it implies that it came safe, or escaped all accidents. We should, therefore, say “that the West India fleet arrived safe.” In disapproving the expression, “he arrived safely,” I concur with Baker; but the judicious reader will perceive, that my reason for reprehending it, does[286] not entirely coincide with his. The author’s words are these: “If a man says, that he arrived safely, or in a safe manner, he seems to suppose, that there is danger of some mischance in arriving. But what danger is there to be apprehended in the circumstance of arriving? The danger is only during the journey, or voyage; in the arrival there is none at all. The proper way of speaking is, therefore, ‘I arrived safe,’ that is, ‘having escaped all the dangers of the passage.’”

“The poor woman carried them to the person to whom they were directed; and when Lady Cathcart recovered her liberty, she received her diamonds safely.” It should be, “she received her diamonds safe.”

Errors like the one on which I have now animadverted, frequently arise from a desire to avoid the opposite mistake; I mean the improper use of the adjective for the adverb.—See Syntax, Rule V. Note 16. Hence many, when they employ such phraseologies as I have here exemplified, conceive that they express themselves with the strictest accuracy, thus verifying the poet’s observation,

In order to avoid this error, it should be remembered, that many English verbs, while they affirm some action, passion, or state of the subject, frequently serve as a copula, connecting the subject with another predicate. This is one of those idioms, in the grammar of our language, which demand the particular attention of the classical scholar. For, though an acquaintance with the learned languages will not seduce him into an improper use of an adjective for the adverb, it may, as in the example now before us, betray him into the converse error. And I am inclined to think, that from a propensity almost irresistible in the classical scholar to assimilate our language with the Latin tongue, our lexicographers have designated many of our words as adverbs, which are strictly adjectives. When it is said, for example, “it goes hard,” Johnson considers hard as an adverb. Yet when we say, “it goes contrary,” he considers contrary as an adjective. There appears to me to be more of caprice than of reason, more of prejudice than of truth, in this classification. Both words, I am persuaded, belong to one and the same species. Nay, I might venture to assert, that no person, who had studied the[287] principles of the English language, and of that only, would pronounce the one to be an adverb, and the other an adjective. It is to be observed, likewise, that we have the regular adverb hardly to express the manner. When we say, “he reasoned concerning the rule,” “we argued respecting the fact,” “he lives according to nature,” is there not something extremely arbitrary and unphilosophical, in calling concerning a preposition, according a preposition, followed by to, but properly a participle, and respecting a participle? Are not all the three participles? Yet Johnson has classed them, as I have now mentioned. But the farther illustration of this subject would lead us into a field much too large for the limits of the present treatise. We must therefore revert to our primary observation, in which we cautioned the reader against the improper use of the adjective for the adverb. It should be remembered that, when it is intended to predicate something of the subject, beside the attribute of the verb, the adjective should be employed; but, when it is intended to express merely some modification of the attribute of the verb, we should then use the adverb. The difference may be illustrated by the following examples. When Gustavus says to his troops, “your limbs tread vigorous and your breasts beat high,” he predicates with the act of treading their physical strength; but had he said, “your limbs tread vigorously,” it would merely modify their treading, and express an act, not a constitutional habit. The same distinction may be made between saying with Arnoldus in the same play, “the tear rolls graceful down his visage,” and “the tear rolls gracefully.” The former predicates grace of the tear itself, the latter merely of its rolling. When we say, “he looks sly,” we mean he has the look or the appearance of being a sly man; when it is said, “he looks slyly,” we signify that he assumes a sly look. When we say, “it tastes good,” we affirm that the subject is of a good quality, whether the taste be pleasant or unpleasant; if we say, “it tastes well,” we affirm the taste of it to be pleasant.

“The manner of it is thus.” The adverb thus means “in this manner.” The expression, therefore, amounts to “the manner of it is in this manner.” It should be, “the manner[288] of it is this,” or, “this is the manner of it.” “This much is certain.” Better, “thus much,” or “so much.”

“It is a long time since I have been devoted to your interest.” Since properly means “from the time when,” and not “during which time.” The expression might be construed into a meaning the reverse of that which is intended, implying, that the attachment had ceased for a long time. It should be, “it is a long time since I became devoted,” or, “it is a long time, that I have been devoted to your interest.”

“It is equally the same.” Equally is here redundant; it ought to be, “it is the same.”

“Whenever I call on him, he always inquires for you.” Whenever means “at what time soever,” “always when,” or “as often as;” always, therefore, is redundant.

“They will not listen to the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely.” Never is here improperly used for ever. It ought to be, “charm he ever so wisely;” that is, “however wisely,” or “how wisely soever, he may charm.”

“And even in those characteristical portraits, on which he has lavished all the decorations of his style, he is seldom or ever misled.”—Stewart’s Life of Robertson. This error is the converse of the former. It ought to be, “seldom or never;” that is, “seldom, or at no time.” “Seldom or ever” is equivalent to “seldom or always,” or to “seldom or at any time;” expressions evidently improper.

“Whether thou be my son or not.”—Bible. “Whether you will keep his commandments, or no.” Both these phraseologies are in use; but I am inclined to agree with those grammarians, who prefer the former, as more consistent with the ellipsis—“Whether thou be, or be not.” “Whether you will keep his commandments, or will not keep.”

“Some years after being released from prison, by reason of his consummate knowledge of civil law, and military affairs, he was soon exalted to the supreme power.” The first clause of this sentence is ambiguous; for the sentence may imply, either that he gained the supremacy, some years after he was released from prison, that period being left indeterminate; or that some years after a time previously mentioned, he was released from prison, and attained the chief power.[289] The latter being the author’s meaning, it ought to be, “some years afterwards being released from prison.” Another ambiguity is here involved by improper arrangement; for, as the sentence stands, it is somewhat doubtful, whether his consummate knowledge was the cause of his releasement, or the cause of his elevation. This error, however, belongs more to the rhetorician, than the grammarian. The French term this ambiguity, “construction louche,” or a squinting construction.

The following error consists in wrong collocation: “The Celtiberi in Spain borrowed that name from the Celtæ and Iberi, from whom they were jointly descended.” Jointly, with whom? It should be, “from whom (the Celtæ and Iberi) jointly they were descended.”

“And the Quakers seem to approach nearly the only regular body of Deists in the universe, the literati, or the disciples of Confucius in China.”—Hume’s Essays. The adverb nearly, which is synonymous with almost, is here improperly used for near[147]. It should be, approach near.

“This is the Leviathan, from whence the terrible wits of our age are said to borrow their weapons.”—Swift. From is here redundant; whence, denoting “from which place.”

“An ancient author prophecies from hence.”—Dryden. Here a similar impropriety is involved. It should be, hence.

E’er, a contraction for ever, which is synonymous with always, and also at any time, is here improperly used for ere or before.

In the two following passages, there appears to me to be a similar error: “Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken.”—Bible. “I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was.”—Ibid.

“And, as there is now never a woman in England, I hope, I may talk of women without offence.”—Steele.

This usage of the word “never,” is now, I believe, entirely confined to the vulgar.

“As for conflagrations and great droughts, they do not merely dispeople and destroy.”—Bacon. Merely is here used, as it is uniformly by Bacon, and very frequently by Shakspeare, for entirely. In this sense, it is obsolete; and it now signifies purely, simply, only, nothing more than. From inattention to this, the passage, now quoted, has been corrupted in several editions. They have it, “do not merely dispeople, but destroy,” conveying a sentiment very different from what the author intended.

SECTION VI.
THE PREPOSITION.

SOLECISM.

“Who do you speak to?” Here the preposition is joined with the nominative, instead of the objective case. It should be, “whom do you speak to?” or “to whom do you speak?” To who is a solecism.

“He talked to you and I, of this matter, some days ago.” It should be, “to you and me;” that is, “to you and to me.”

It ought to be, “on Hastings you and me,” the pronouns being under the government of the preposition understood.

“Neither do I think, that anything could be more entertaining, than the story of it exactly told, with such observations, and in such a spirit, style, and manner, as you alone are capable of performing it.” This sentence is extremely faulty. “To perform a story” is not English; and the relative clause is ungrammatical, the preposition being omitted. It should be, “performing it in,” which would be grammatically correct, but inelegant, as well as improper. It would be better expressed thus, “in that spirit, style, and manner, in which you alone are capable of narrating it.”

“Notwithstanding of the numerous panegyrics on the ancient English liberty.”—Hume’s Essays. The error here in[291] the use of the preposition after notwithstanding, is, I believe, peculiar to Scotland. Notwithstanding is a compound word of the same import as not preventing. The grammatical construction therefore is, “the numerous panegyrics notwithstanding,” that is, “not hindering,” the noun and the participle being in the absolute case. Of renders the expression solecistical.

IMPROPRIETY.

“If policy can prevail upon force.”—Addison. Here upon is improperly used for over. To prevail on, is “to persuade;” to prevail over, is “to overcome.”

“I have set down the names of several gentlemen, who have been robbed in Dublin streets, for these three years past.”—Swift. It should be, “within these three years past.” Swift’s expression implies, as Baker observes, that these gentlemen had been robbed during the whole three years.

“Ye blind guides, who strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.” In this sentence, the preposition at is very improperly used for out. It should be, “strain out a gnat;” that is, exclude it from the liquor by straining.

“Oliver Proudfute, a freeman and burgess, was slain upon the streets of the city.”—Scott. This form of expression is almost universal in Scotland. An Englishman says, “in the streets.”

“I have several times inquired of you without any satisfaction.”—Pope. We say, “inquire of,” when we ask a question; and “inquire for,” or “after,” when we desire to know the circumstances, in which any object is placed. He should have employed the latter expression.

“The greatest masters of critical learning differ among one another.”—Spectator. If the ellipsis be supplied, the sentence proceeds thus: “The greatest masters of critical learning differ, one differs among another.” Here the preposition among, which implies a number, or a plurality, is joined to a term significant of unity. It ought to be, “from one another;” that is “one from another,” or “differ among themselves.”

“I intended to wait of you this morning.” The preposition[292] of is here improperly used for on. We say, to wait on, not to wait of.

“He knows nothing on it.” This is a vile vulgarism for “he knows nothing of it.”

“He is now much altered to the better.” To is here improperly used instead of for. “Altered to the better,” may, I believe, be deemed a Scotticism. It ought to be, “he is altered for the better.”

Ambiguity is sometimes produced by putting the preposition in an improper place. “A clergyman is, by the militia act, exempted from both serving and contributing.” This, though intended to express a different meaning, strictly implies, that he is not obliged both to serve and to contribute, but does not exclude his liability to do the one, or the other. If we say, “he is exempted both from serving and contributing,” we express an exemption from both.

“Such of my readers, as have a taste of fine writing.”—Addison’s Spect. “To have a taste of a thing,” is “to feel how it affects the sensitive or perceptive faculty;” “to have a taste for a thing,” is “to relish its agreeable qualities;” “to have a taste in a thing,” which is the expression used by Addison in the same paper, is “to have a discriminative judgment in examining the object.” The first expression is incorrect, as not conveying his meaning.

Swift, speaking of Marlborough’s dismission from the queen’s ministry, as a bad requital of his public services, says, “If a stranger should hear these furious outcries of ingratitude against our general, he would be apt to inquire,” &c. One would naturally conclude from the author’s expression, that Marlborough, and not the nation, was charged with ingratitude. He should have said, “ingratitude towards our general.”

“I received the sword in a present from my brother.” This is a very common colloquial Scotticism, and occurs occasionally in written language. The sword was not received in, but as a present.

In the use of prepositions, a distinction is properly made between their literal and figurative meaning. “Wit,” says Shakspeare, “depends on dilatory time.” Here the verb is[293] employed figuratively, and the idea involved in the primitive meaning is dismissed.

Here the verb is used in its literal acceptation, denoting “to hang,” and is followed, therefore, by from.

To the same purpose it has been remarked by Campbell, that the verb “to found,” used literally, is followed by on preferably to in, as, “the house was founded on a rock;” but, when employed metaphorically, is better followed by in, as, “dominion is founded in grace.”

“There is no need for your assistance.” It should be, “of your assistance.” We say, “occasion for,” and “need of.” Need for may likewise be pronounced a Scotticism, as, I believe, this phraseology is seldom or never used by English writers.

“For, what chiefly deters the sons of science and philosophy from reading the Bible, and profiting of that lecture, but the stumbling-block of absolute inspiration?”—Geddes. “To profit of” is a Gallicism; it should be, “profiting by.”

SECTION VII.
THE CONJUNCTION.

SOLECISM.

“A system of theology, involving such absurdities, can be maintained, I think, by no rational man, much less by so learned a man as him.” Conjunctions having no government, the word as ought not to be joined with an objective case. It should be, “so learned a man as he,” the verb is being understood.

“Tell the cardinal, that I understand poetry better than him.”—Smollett. According to the grammatical construction of the latter clause, it means, “I understand poetry better than I understand him.” This, however, is not the sentiment which the writer intended to convey. The clause should proceed thus, “I understand poetry better than he;” that is,[294] “than he understands it.” Those who contend for the use of than as a preposition, and justify the phraseology which is here censured, must at least admit, that to construe than as a preposition, creates ambiguity. Thus, when it is said, “you think him handsomer than me,” it would be impossible to determine whether the meaning is, “you think him handsomer than I think him,” or “you think him handsomer than you think me.”

“There is nothing more pleases mankind, as to have others to admire and praise their performances, though they are never so trivial.” Here there are two errors. The comparative more is followed by as, instead of than; and the adverb never is improperly used for ever. “How trivial so ever.” It should be, “There is nothing that pleases mankind more, than,” &c.

Conjunctions having no government, the scholar, desirous to avoid error, should carefully observe, whether the predicate be applicable to the two subjects, connected by the conjunction, or, to speak more generally, whether the two nouns be dependent on the same verb or preposition, expressed or understood. “The lover got a woman of greater fortune than her he had missed.”—Addison, Guardian. This sentence, if not acknowledged to be ungrammatical, is at least inelegant. The pronoun should have been introduced. If than be considered as having the power of a preposition, the charge of solecism is precluded; but if than be a conjunction, he should have said, “than she, whom he had missed.” For, as Lowth observes, there is no ellipsis of the verb got, so that the pronoun her cannot be under its government. The meaning is not, “The lover got a woman of greater fortune, than he got her, whom he missed,” for this would be a contradiction, but, “of greater fortune, than she was.” In like manner, in the following passage:

Bentley says, that it should be me. We concur with Dr. Lowth in rejecting this correction, and approving the expression[295] of Milton. There is no ellipsis of the verb make; others and I are not under the government of the same word. The meaning is not, “to make others such, as to make me,” but, “such as I am” the substantive verb being understood.

In the following passage, on the contrary, the ellipsis seems evident: “I found none so fit as him to be set in opposition to the father of the renowned city of Rome.” It has been contended, that the author should have said, “as he,” and not “as him:” but it appears to me, that the verb found is understood in the secondary clause, and that the expression is correct, the sense being, “I found none so fit, as I found him.”

“So as,” and “as, as,” though frequently, have not always the same import. “These things,” said Thales to Solon, who was lamenting the supposed death of his son, “which strike down so firm a man as you, have deterred me from marriage.” The expression clearly refers to Solon; but, if he had said “as firm a man as you,” it might have referred to a different person from Solon, but a man of equal fortitude.

The second line of the couplet is ungrammatical, the conjunction connecting an objective with a nominative case, or, to speak more correctly, the pronoun of the first person, which should be a regimen to the verb understood, being here in the nominative case. Thus, “let thee,” and, “let I, my fair one, dwell,” instead of “let thee, and let me.”

“Let us make a covenant, I and thou.”—Bible. The error here, though similar, does not come under precisely the same predicament with the former. The pronoun us is very properly in the objective case, after the verb let; I and thou should therefore be in the same case, according to Rule vii. of Syntax. The expression is in fact elliptical, and when[296] completed proceeds thus, “Let us make a covenant: let me and thee make.”

“Though he were a son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered.” The first clause is intended to express a fact, not a hypothesis; the verb, therefore, should be in the indicative mood. Conjunctions have no government, either of cases or moods.

IMPROPRIETY.

“If in case he come, all will be well.” If and in case are synonymous, the one meaning “suppose,” and the other, “on the supposition.” One of them, therefore, is redundant.

“The reason of my desiring to see you was, because I wanted to talk with you.” Because means “by reason;” the expression, therefore, is chargeable with redundancy. It should be, “that I wanted to talk with you.”

“No sooner was the cry of the infant heard, but the old gentleman rushed into the room.”—Martinus Scrib. The comparative is here improperly followed by but, instead of than.

“Scarce had the Spirit of Laws made its appearance, than it was attacked.” Than is employed after comparatives only, and the word other. It ought to be “scarce,” or, for reasons formerly given, “scarcely had the Spirit of Laws made its appearance, when it was attacked,” or “no sooner—than.”

“The resolution was not the less fixed, that the secret was as yet communicated to very few, either in the French or English court.” This passage from Hume I have not been able to find. Priestley observes, that it involves a Gallicism, the word that being used instead of as. If the meaning intended be, that some circumstances, previously mentioned, had not shaken the resolution, because the secret was as yet known to few, then Priestley’s observation was correct, and the word as should be substituted for that, to express the cause of the firmness. But, if the author intended to say, that the very partial discovery of the secret had not shaken the resolution, the clause is then perfectly correct. According to the former phraseology, the circumstance subjoined operated as a cause, preventing the resolution from being[297] shaken: according to the latter, it had no effect, or produced no change of the previous determination. In other words, “the less fixed that,” implies that the subject of the following clause did not affect that of the preceding; “the less fixed as” denotes, that the latter circumstance contributed to the production of the former. As it is obvious, that, in such examples, the definite article may refer either to the antecedent or the subsequent clause, the distinction, here specified, should, for the sake of perspicuity, be carefully observed[148].

“His donation was the more acceptable, that it was given without solicitation.” That the word that is frequently used for because cannot be questioned; thus, “I am glad that you have returned safe,” that is, “because you have returned safe.”

Here that is equivalent to because. English writers, however, after a comparative, employ as or because, to denote that the circumstance subjoined was the cause of the preceding one. The use of that in such examples is accounted a Scotticism; it should, therefore, be, “his donation was the more acceptable, as” or “because it was given without solicitation.”

“His arguments on this occasion had, it may be presumed, the greater weight, that he had never himself entered within the walls of a playhouse.”—Stewart’s Life of Robertson.

“A mortification, the more severe, that the joint authority of the archduke and the infanta governed the Austrian Netherlands.”—Thomson’s Continuation of Watson’s History.

These sentences are chargeable with the same error; and, it is not a little remarkable, though the impropriety has been[298] pointed out again and again, that there is scarcely a Scotch writer, not even among those of the highest name, who is not chargeable with the frequent commission of this error.

“On the east and west sides, it (America) is washed by the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.”—Robertson. This mode of expression is incorrect; and, though to the geographer intelligible, it strictly conveys a conception not intended by the author. The copulative joins the two sides, which ought to be separated; and combines the two seas, instead of the two facts, implying, that both sides are washed by the same two oceans. It should be rather, “On the east side it is washed by the Atlantic, and on the west (is washed) by the Pacific ocean.”

“Will it be believed, that the four Gospels are as old, or even older than tradition?”—Bolingbroke. Here there is a faulty omission of the particle corresponding to as; for the positive and comparative cannot be followed by the same conjunction. It ought to be, “as old as, or even older than tradition;” or, perhaps, better, “as old as tradition, or even older.”

“The books were to have been sold as this day.” This is a most offensive vulgarism. The conjunction as can have no regimen; nor can it be properly used as equivalent to on. It ought to be, “sold this day,” or “on this day.”

“It is supposed, that he must have arrived at Paris as yesterday.” This sentence is chargeable with the same error. Construed strictly, it is, “he must have arrived at Paris as, or in like manner as, he arrived yesterday.”

“The duke had not behaved with that loyalty, as he ought to have done.” Propriety of correspondence here requires with that to be followed by with which, instead of as. The sentence, even thus corrected, would be still inelegant and clumsy. “The duke had not behaved with becoming loyalty,” would be much better.

“In the order as they lie in his preface.” This involves a similar impropriety. It should be, “in order as,” or “in the order, in which they lie in his preface.”

“Men come not to the knowledge of ideas which are[299] thought innate, till they come to the use of reason; nor then neither.”—Locke.

In old English two negatives denied; hence, perhaps, this phraseology originated. Johnson remarks, that the use of neither, after a negative, and at the end of a sentence, though not grammatical, renders the expression more emphatic. Analogy, however, is decidedly in favour of the affirmative term; I, therefore, prefer the word “either.” Were Johnson’s argument admitted, such expressions as these, “I forbade you not to go;” “I won’t suffer no such thing;” “He would not have none of my assistance,” might, I apprehend, be justified on the same principle. Those who employ them, doubtless, believe them to be more emphatic, than if they included a single negative.

“This I am the rather disposed to do, that it will serve to illustrate the principles above laid down.”—Campbell on Rhetoric. This sentence involves an error, on which I have already animadverted. “The rather” should be followed by as, not that.

“This is another use, that in my opinion contributes rather to make a man learned than wise: and is neither capable of pleasing the understanding, or imagination.” Lowth justly observes, that or is here improperly used for nor, the correlative words being neither, nor. In addition to this observation, I remark, that the word neither is erroneously placed. To render this collocation of the conjunction correct, there should be another attributive opposed to the word “capable,” as, “neither capable of pleasing the understanding, nor calculated to gratify the imagination.” But, as the author intended to exclude two subjects, these should have been contrasted by the exclusive conjunctions, thus, “is capable of pleasing neither the understanding, nor the imagination.”

A similar error occurs in the following sentence: “Adversity both taught you to think and reason.”—Steele. The conjunction, which is, in truth, the adjective both, is improperly placed. It should be, “taught you both,” i.e. the two things, “to think and reason.”

It has been already observed, that the conjunction or is used disjunctively, and subdisjunctively, sometimes denoting[300] a diversity of things, and sometimes merely a difference of names. Hence often arises ambiguity, where the utmost precision of expression is necessary[149]. When Ruddiman delivers it as a rule, that “verbal adjectives, or such as signify an affection of the mind, require the genitive,” I have known the scholar at a loss to understand, whether there be two distinct classes of adjectives, here intended, or one class under two designations. The ambiguity might here be avoided, by using and or with instead of or. It may also be prevented in many cases, by more forcibly marking the distinction by the use of either. Thus, if we say, “whosoever shall cause, or occasion a disturbance,” it may be doubtful, whether the latter of the two verbs be not designed as explanatory of the former, they, though their meanings be distinct, being often used as synonymous terms. If we say, “shall either cause or occasion,” all doubt is removed. Sometimes ambiguity may be precluded either by the insertion, or the omission, of the article. Thus, if we say, “a peer, or lord of parliament,”[150] meaning to designate only one individual, or one order, the expression is correct. But if it be intended to signify two individuals, every peer not being a lord of parliament, and every lord of parliament not being a peer, we should say, “a peer, or a lord of parliament,” or “either a peer, or lord of parliament.”

Having now endeavoured to explain and illustrate the etymology and syntax of the English language, I cannot dismiss the subject without earnestly recommending to the classical student to cultivate a critical acquaintance with his native tongue. It is an egregious, but common error, to imagine, that a perfect knowledge of Greek and Latin precludes the necessity of studying the principles of English grammar. The structure of the ancient, and that of modern languages, are very dissimilar. Nay, the peculiar idioms of any language,[301] how like soever in its general principles to any other, must be learned by study, and an attentive perusal of the best writers in that language. Nor can any imputation be more reproachful to the proficient in classical literature, than, with a critical knowledge of Greek and Latin, which are now dead languages, to be superficially acquainted with his native tongue, in which he must think, and speak, and write.

The superiority of Greek and Latin over the English language in respect of harmony, graceful dignity, conciseness, and fluency, will be readily admitted. Our language is, comparatively, harsh and abrupt. It possesses strength, indeed; but unaccompanied with softness, with elegance, or with majesty. It must be granted also, that the Greek is, perhaps, a more copious, and is certainly a more ductile[151] and tractable language. But though, in these respects, the English be inferior to the languages of Greece and Rome, yet in preciseness of expression, diversity of sound, facility of communication, and variety of phrase, it may claim the pre-eminence. It would be easy to evince the truth of this assertion, did the limits, which I have prescribed to myself permit. The fact is, that analogous languages almost necessarily possess a superiority in these respects over those, which are transpositive.

It is to be remembered, also, that our language is susceptible of high improvement; and though its abrupt and rugged nature cannot be entirely changed, much may be done to smooth its asperities and soften its harshness.

As a further inducement to the study of the English language, I would assure the young reader, that a due attention to accuracy of diction is highly conducive to correctness of thought. For, as it is generally true, that he, whose conceptions are clear, and who is master of his subject, delivers his[302] sentiments with ease and perspicuity[152]; so it is equally certain, that, as language is not only the vehicle of thought, but also an instrument of invention, if we desire to attain a habit of conceiving clearly and thinking correctly, we must learn to speak and write with accuracy and precision.

It must, at the same time, be remembered, that to give our chief attention to mere phraseology, or to be more solicitous about the accuracy of the diction than the value of the sentiment, is a sure indication of a nerveless and vacant mind. As we estimate a man, not by his garb, but by his intellectual and moral worth, so it is the sentiment itself, not the dress in which it is exhibited, that determines its character, and our opinion of its author.

In short, the precept of Quintilian should be studiously observed: “curam ergo verborum, rerum volo esse solicitudinem.”—Inst. Orat. lib. viii.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Beattie seems to think that the antediluvians had an alphabet, and that hieroglyphical was posterior to alphabetical writing. “The wisdom and simple manners of the first men,” says he, “would incline me to think, that they must have had an alphabet; for hieroglyphic characters imply quaintness and witticism.” In this reasoning I cannot concur. Alphabetic writing is indeed simple, when known; so also are most inventions. But, simple and easy as it appears to us, we have only to examine the art itself, to be fully convinced, that science, genius, and industry, must have been combined in inventing it. Nay, the learned author himself acknowledges, “that though of easy acquisition to us, it is in itself neither easy nor obvious.” He even admits, “that alphabetical writing must be so remote from the conceptions of those who never heard of it, that without divine aid it would seem to be unsearchable and impossible.” I observe also that in passing from picture-writing to hieroglyphical expression, and in transferring the signs of physical to intellectual and invisible objects, fanciful conceits would naturally take place. It is true also that the manners of the antediluvians were simple; but it is not from prudence nor simplicity of manners, but from human genius, gradually improved, that we are to expect inventions, which require the greatest efforts of the human mind.

[2] Cicero regards the invention of alphabetic writing as an evidence of the celestial character of the soul; and many have ascribed its origin to the inspiration of the Deity. To resort to supernatural causes, to account for the production of any rare or striking event, is repugnant to the principles of true philosophy. And how wonderful soever the art of alphabetical writing may appear, there can be no necessity for referring its introduction to divine inspiration, if the inventive powers of man be not demonstrably unequal to the task. Picture-writing is generally believed to have been the earliest mode of recording events, or communicating information by permanent signs. This was probably succeeded by hieroglyphical characters. How these pictures and hieroglyphical devices would, either through negligence or a desire to abbreviate, gradually vary their form, and lose their resemblance to the objects which they represented, may be easily conceived. Hence that association, which existed between the sign and the thing signified, being founded in resemblance, would in process of time be entirely dissolved. This having taken place, hieroglyphical characters would naturally be converted into a mere verbal denotation, representative of words and not of things. Hence, as Goguet, in his work, “De l’Origine des Loix,” &c., reasonably conjectures, would arise by a partial and easy analysis, a syllabic mode of denotation, which would naturally introduce a literal alphabet. This conjecture must seem highly probable, when it is considered, that both a verbal and syllabic mode of notation are still practised by some Eastern nations.

[3] I am aware, that in considering the letters y and w to be the same with i and u (oo), I maintain an opinion, the truth of which has been disputed. The reasons, however, which have been assigned for rejecting it do not appear to me satisfactory.

[4] The mouth is not the proper organ for producing sound; but merely the organ for modulating and articulating the specific sounds.

[5] The sound of th in thin, is usually marked with a stroke through the h, to distinguish it from its other sound; thus, tħick. This distinction is by some writers reversed.

[6] Hutton’s Investigation of the Principles of Knowledge, vol. ii. p. 688.

[7] Plato and Aristotle, when they treat of prepositions, considered the noun and the verb as the only essential parts of speech; these, without the aid of any other word, being capable of forming a sentence. Hence they were called τὰ ἐμψυχότατα μέρη τοῦ λόγου, “the most animated parts of speech.” The latter of these philosophers, in his Poetics, admits four, adding to the noun and the verb the article and the conjunction. The elder Stoics made five, dividing the noun into proper and appellative.

[8]

Noun, Nomen de quo loquimur.

Verb, Verbum seu quod loquimur.—Quint. lib. i. 4.

Horace has been thought by some to countenance this doctrine when he says,

“Donec verba, quibus voces sensusque notarent,

Nominaque invenere.”—Lib. i. Sat. 3.

[9] The plural number, and the genitive singular, seem to have been originally formed by adding er to the nominative singular, as you, you-er, your; they, they-er, their; we, we-er, our. This termination was afterwards changed into en, and then into es or s. Thus we have still in provincial usage, though now almost entirely obsolete, childer for the plural of child, and the double plural in child-er-en, children, with the double genitive in west-er-en, western.

[10] Brethren, in Scripture, is used for brothers.

[11] The obsolete plural occurs in the Bible. “These men were bound in their hosen and hats.”—Dan. iii. 21.

[12] Baker inclines also to this usage in preference to the other; but does not affirm it to be a plural noun.

[13] Much is sometimes joined with collective nouns; but these denote number in the aggregate; thus, much company.

[14] The gender of mors, virtus, sol, θάνατος, ἀρετή, ἥλιος, was unalterably fixed.

[15] It seems, however, to be more applicable to the English language than to any other with which I am acquainted.

[16] These observations will sufficiently explain the reason why we cannot concur with Dr. Johnson in thinking that there is “an impropriety in the termination,” when we say of a woman, “She is a philosopher.” The female termination in such examples is not wanted; it would be pleonastic and improper. The meaning is, “She is a person given to the study of nature.” If we had been speaking of a lady devoted to philosophy, and had occasion afterwards to mention her by an appellative, we should feel the want of the appropriate termination; and instead of saying “the philosopher,” we should wish, for the sake of discrimination, to be able to say, “the philosophress,” or to employ some equally distinctive term. In the example adduced by the learned lexicographer, the female termination is superfluous; and would intimate a distinction of philosophic character, instead of a distinction of sex, the latter being denoted by the female pronoun.

[17] We remark, in some instances, a similar phraseology in Greek and Latin. Θεὸς and θεὰ, deus and dea, are contradistinguished as in English, god and goddess; the former of each pair strictly denoting the male, and the latter the female. But the former, we find, has a generical meaning, expressing “a deity,” whether male or female; and is frequently used when the female is designed, if divinity in the abstract be the primary idea without regard to the sex, thus,

... “τὸν δ’ ἐξήρπαξ’ Ἀφροδίτη,

Ῥεῖα μάλ’ ὥστε θεός.”—Hom. Il. iii. 380.

Here the term θεός is applied to Venus, the character of divinity, and not the distinction of sex, being the chief object of the poet’s attention. Θεός is, therefore, to be considered as either masculine or feminine.

“Ἀλλά μ’ ἁ Διός γ’ ἀλκίμα θεός.”—Soph. Aj. 401.

“Μήτε τις οὖν θήλεια θεός.”—Hom. Il. Θ. 7.

“Descendo, ac ducente deo, flammam inter et hostes
Expedior.”—Virg. Æn. ii. 632.

Here, also, deo is applied to Venus, as likewise in the following passage, “deum esse indignam credidi.”—Plaut. Pœn. 2, l. 10.

[18] Πτῶσις γενική: general case. It has been supposed by some that the Latins, mistaking the import of the Greek term, called this the genitive case. See Ency. Brit., Art. Grammar.

[19] Amor Dei denotes either amor quo Deus amat, or quo Deus amatur. Reformatio Lutheri, either qua reformavit, or qua reformatus est. Injuria patris, desiderium amici, with many other examples which might be produced, have either an active or passive sense. ἡ ἀγαπὴ τοῦ Θεοῦ, אהבת יהוה, l’amore de Dio, l’amour de Dieu, severally involve the same ambiguity with “the love of God.”

[20] Of the six declensions, to one or other of which the learned Dr. Hickes conceives the inflexion of almost all the Saxon nouns may be reduced, three form their genitive in es, as, word, wordes; smith, smithes. In the Mœsogothic, a kindred language, the genitive ends in s, some nouns having is, some ns, and others as, as, fan, fanins; faukagagja, faukagagjis.

[21] It must be obvious, that the terms general and universal belong not to real existences, but are merely denominations, the result of intellect, generalising a number of individuals under one head.

[22] Non ut intelligere possit, sed ne omnino possit non intelligere curandum.—Inst. lib. viii. cap. 4.

I am inclined to think that our language possesses a superiority in this respect over the Greek itself. Ἐγένετο ἄνθρωπος ἀπεσταλμένος παρὰ τοῦ Θεοῦ may signify either “man in the species, or an individual, was sent from God.” The author of the article Grammar, in the Encyc. Brit., observes, “that the word ἄνθρωπος is here restricted to an individual by its concord with the verb and the participle.” If he mean by this that the term must be significant of only one individual, (and I can annex no other interpretation to his words,) because a singular verb and participle singular are joined with it, he errs egregiously. Numberless examples might be produced to evince the contrary. Job. v. 7. ἄνθρωπος γεννᾶται κόπῳ “man (mankind) is born unto trouble;” where the subject is joined to a verb singular. Psal. xlix. 12. ἄνθρωπος ἐν τιμῇ ὢν οὐ συνῆκε, “man being in honour abideth not.” Here also man for mankind is joined with a participle and verb singular. And here it may be pertinently asked, would not the term one for a in the first example somewhat alter the meaning, and convey an idea different from that intended by the evangelist?

[23] They are the Saxon words this or thes, “hic, hæc, hoc,” that or thæt, “ille, illa, illud,” which were frequently used by the Saxons for what we term the definite article, as, send us on thas swyn, “send us into the swine.” Mark v. 21, tha eodon tha unclænan gastas on tha swyn, “then the unclean spirits entered into the swine.”

The Saxon definites are se, seo, thæt, for the three genders severally; and tha in the plural, expressing the or those, as, thæt goed sæd, the good seed. Thæt is also joined to masculine and feminine nouns, as, thæt wif, the woman; thæt folc, the people. Thæ (pronounced they) still obtains in Scotland, as, “thæ men” for “these men.”

[24]

ארץ‏‎ ‎‏הארץ.

[25]

אשרי האיש.

[26] Horne Tooke appears to me to have erred in deriving odd from ow’d. His words are these: “Odd is the participle ow’d. Thus, when we are counting by couples or pairs, we say, ‘one pair,’ ‘two pairs,’ &c., and ‘one ow’d,’ ‘two ow’d,’ to make up another pair. It has the same meaning when we say, ‘an odd man,’ ‘an odd action,’ it still relates to pairing; and we mean ‘without a fellow,’ ‘unmatched.’” Now, I must own, this appears to me a very odd explanation; for, in my apprehension, it leads to a conclusion the very reverse of that which the author intends. The term odd is applied to the one which stands by itself, and not to that which is absent, or ow’d, to complete the pair. If I say, “there are three pairs, and an odd one,” the word odd refers to the single one, over and above the three pairs, and not to the one which is wanting; yet Mr. Tooke refers it to the latter. His explanation seems at once unnatural and absurd. Had he substituted, according to his own etymology, add for and, saying, “three pairs, add an ow’d one,” he must, I think, have perceived its inaccuracy. It is the odd and present one, of which the singularity is predicated, and not the absent or ow’d one.

[27] “Quivis seu quilibet affirmat; quisquam, quispiam, ullus, aut negat aut interrogat,” are the words of an ancient grammarian. It is observable also, that in Latin, ullus, any, is a diminutive from unus, one; as any in English is from ane, the name of unity, as formerly used.

[28] In Anglo-Saxon ic, in German ich, in Greek ἐγὼ, in Latin ego. Mr. Webb delivered it as his opinion, that the pronoun of the first person was derived from the Hebrew ech or ach, one, used by apocope for achad or ahad, he added, “oned,” or “united.” It is doubtless true, that ech occurs in one or two passages for one: see Ezek. xviii. 10, and Ps. xlix. 8; in which latter passage it is rendered in our translation, brother, and by R. Jonah, one; but we apprehend that this fact will by no means justify his conclusion. And as he considered that the pronoun of the first person radically denoted one, he imagined that the pronoun of the second person came from the numeral duo, du, tu, thu. Now, it must be granted that there is an obvious resemblance between ic and ech, and also between duo, tu, and thu; but were we to draw any conclusion from this similarity, it would be the reverse of that which the author has deduced. It seems quite preposterous to suppose, that the necessity for expressing a number would present itself, before that of discriminating between the person speaking and the person addressed. The rude savage could not converse with his fellow without some sign of this distinction; and if visible signs (as is probable) would be first adopted, we may reasonably presume, on several grounds, that these would soon give place to audible expressions.

The pronoun ic is in Saxon declined thus:

Sing. Nom. Ic	Gen. Min	Dat. Me	Acc. Me
Plur. Nom. We	Gen. Ure	Dat. Us	Acc. Us.

[29] The pronoun of the second person is thus declined:

Sing. Nom. Thu	Gen. Thin	Dat. The	Acc. The
Plur. Nom. Ge (hard)	Gen. Eower	Dat. and	Acc. Eow.

[30] The Anglo-Saxon he is declined thus:

Sing. Nom. He

Gen. His

Dat. and Acc. Him.

[31]

Sing. Nom. Heo

Gen. Hire

Dat. Hire.

Acc. Hi.

[32] This pronoun is from the Anglo-Saxon hyt or hit, “i” or “that.”

[33] In Anglo-Saxon hi, in Teutonic die.

[34] In Anglo-Saxon, hwa, hua; Gen. hwæs; Dat. hwam; Acc. hwæne, hwone. Also hwilc, whence, says Hickes, proceeded which, the letter l being elided.

[35] Mr. Tooke contends, that this part of speech is properly termed adjective noun, and “that it is altogether as much the name of a thing, as the noun substantive.” Names and designations necessarily influence our conceptions of the things which they represent. It is therefore desirable, that in every art or science, not only should no term be employed which may convey to the reader or hearer an incorrect conception of the thing signified, but that every term should assist him in forming a just idea of the object which it expresses. Now, I concur with Mr. Tooke in thinking, that the adjective is by no means a necessary part of speech. I agree with him also in opinion, that, in a certain sense, all words are nouns or names. But, as this latter doctrine seems directly repugnant to the concurrent theories of critics and grammarians, it is necessary to explain in what sense the opinion of Mr. Tooke requires to be understood; and in presenting the reader with this explanation, I shall briefly state the objections which will naturally offer themselves against the justness of this theory. “Gold, and brass, and silk, is each of them,” says Mr. Tooke, “the name of a thing, and denotes a substance. If, then, I say, a gold-ring, a brass-tube, a silk-string; here are the substantives adjectivè posita, yet names of things, and denoting substances.” It may be contended, however, that these are not substantives, but adjectives, and are the same as golden, brazen, silken. He proceeds: “If again I say, a golden ring, a brazen tube, a silken string; do gold, and brass, and silk, cease to be the names of things, and cease to denote substances, because instead of coupling them with ring, tube, and string, by a hyphen thus (-), I couple them to the same words, by adding the termination en?” It may be answered, they do not cease to imply the substances, but they are no longer names of those substances. Hard implies hardness, but it is not the name of that quality. Atheniensis implies Athenæ, but it is not the name of the city, any more than belonging to Athens can be called its name. He observes: “If it were true, that adjectives were not the names of things, there could be no attribution by adjectives; for you cannot attribute nothing.” This conclusion may be disputed. An adjective may imply a substance, quality, or property, though it is not the name of it. Cereus, “waxen,” implies cera, “wax;” but it is the latter only which is strictly the name of the substance. Pertaining to wax, made of wax, are not surely names of the thing itself. Every attributive, whether verb or adjective, must imply an attribute; but it is not therefore the name of that attribute. Juvenescit, “he waxes young,” expresses an attribute; but we should not call juvenescit the name of the attribute.

It may be asked, what is the difference between caput hominis, “a man’s head,” and caput humanum, “a human head?” If hominis, “man’s,” be deemed a noun, why should not humanum, “human,” be deemed a noun also? It may be answered, that hominis does, in fact, perform the office of an adjective, expressing not only the individual, but conjunction also; and that Mr. Wallis assigns to the English genitive the name of adjective. Besides, does not Mr. Tooke himself maintain, “that case, gender, and number, are no parts of the noun”? and does it not hence follow, that the real nouns are not hominis, but homo,—not man’s, but man? for such certainly is their form when divested of those circumstances which, according to Mr. Tooke, make no part of them. If the doctrine, therefore, of the learned author be correct, and if the real noun exclude gender, case, and number, as any part of it, neither hominis nor humanum, man’s nor human, can with consistency be called nouns.

But let Mr. Tooke’s argument be applied to the verb, the τὸ ῥῆμα, which he justly considers as an essential part of speech. “If verbs were not the names of things, there could be no attribution by verbs, for we cannot attribute nothing.” Are we then to call sapit, vivit, legit, names? If so, we have nothing but names; and to this conclusion Mr. Tooke fairly brings the discussion; for he says, that all words are names.

Having thus submitted to the reader the doctrine of this sagacious critic, with the objections which naturally present themselves, I proceed to observe, that the controversy appears to me to be, in a great degree, a mere verbal dispute. It is agreed on both sides, that the adjective expresses a substance, quality, or property; but, while it is affirmed by some critics, it is denied by others, that it is the name of the thing signified. The metaphysician considers words merely as signs of thought, while the grammarian regards chiefly their changes by inflexion: and hence arises that perplexity in which the classification of words has been, and still continues to be, involved. Now, it is evident that every word must be the sign of some sensation, idea, or perception. It must express some substance or some attribute: and in this sense all words may be regarded as names. Sometimes we have the name of the thing simply, as person. Sometimes we have an accessary idea combined with the simple sign, as “possession,” “conjunction,” “action,” and so forth, as personal, personally, personify. This accessary circumstance, we have reason to believe, was originally denoted by a distinct word, significant of the idea intended; and that this word was, in the progress of language, abbreviated and incorporated with the primary term, in the form of what we now term an affix or prefix. Thus frigus, frigidus, friget, all denote the same primary idea, involving the name of that quality, or of that sensation, which we term cold. Frigus is the name of the thing simply; frigidus expresses the quality in concreto, or conjunction. Considering, therefore, all words as names, it may be regarded as a complex name, expressing two distinct ideas,—that of the quality, and that of conjunction. Friget (the subject being understood) may be regarded as a name still more complex; involving, first, the name of the quality; secondly, the name of conjunction; thirdly, the sign of affirmation, as either expressed by an appropriate name, or constructively implied, equivalent to the three words, est cum frigore. According, then, to this metaphysical view of the subject, we have first nomen simplex, the simple name; secondly, nomen adjectivum or nomen duplex, the name of the thing, with that of conjunction; thirdly, nomen affirmativum, the name of the thing affirmed to be conjoined.

The simple question now is, whether all words, not even the verb excepted, should be called nouns; or whether we shall assign them such appellations as may indicate the leading circumstances by which they are distinguished. The latter appears to me to be the only mode which the grammarian, as the teacher of an art, can successfully adopt. Considering the subject in this light, I am inclined to say with Mr. Harris, that the adjective, as implying some substance or attribute, not per se, but in conjunction, or as pertaining, is more nearly allied to the verb than to the noun; and that though the verb and the adjective may, in common with the noun, denote the thing, they cannot strictly be called its name. To say that foolish and folly are each names of the same quality, would, I apprehend, lead to nothing but perplexity and error.

It is true, if we are to confine the term noun to the simple name of the subject, we shall exclude the genitive singular from all right to this appellation; for it denotes, not the subject simply, but the subject in conjunction—the inflexion being equivalent to “belonging to.” This indeed is an inconsistency which can in no way be removed, unless by adopting the opinion of Wallis, who assigns no cases to English nouns, and considers man’s, king’s, &c., to be adjectives. And were we to adopt Mr. Tooke’s definition of our adjective, and say, “It is the name of a thing which is directed to be joined to another name of a thing,” it will follow, that king’s, man’s, are adjectives. In short, if the question be confined to the English language, we must, in order to remove all inconsistency, either deny the appellation of noun to the adjective, and, with Wallis, call the genitive case an adjective; or we must first call man’s, king’s, &c., adjectives; secondly, we must term happy, extravagant, mercenary, &c., nouns, though they are not names; and thirdly, we must assign the appellation of noun to the verb itself.

From this view of the subject the reader will perceive that the whole controversy depends on the meaning which we annex to the term noun. If by this term we denote simply the thing itself, without any accessary circumstance, then nothing can be called a noun but the name in its simple form. If to the term noun we assign a more extensive signification, as implying not only the thing itself simply and absolutely, but also any accessary idea, as conjunction, action, passion, and so forth, then it follows, that all words may be termed names.

[36] The Saxons formed their comparative by er or ere, ar or ære, er, or, ur, yr, and their superlative by ast, aste, est, ist, ost, ust, yst. Now ar means before; hence the English words ere and erst. Thus, in Saxon, riht wisere means “righteous before,” “just before,” or “more than.” The suffix is equivalent to the Latin præ, and the Hebrew preposition min, signifying also before; the only difference being this, that what is a suffix to the Saxon adjective is in Hebrew a prefix to the consequent subject of comparison, and that in Latin the preposition following the positive stands alone.

Mr. Bosworth, in his “Elements of Anglo-Saxon Grammar,” a work displaying sound philological principles, has remarked, that the Gothic superlative in itsa bears an obvious resemblance to some of the Greek superlatives, as, ἄριστος, κάλλιστος, βράδιστος.

[37] Up and in are now used as adverbs and prepositions.

[38] This phraseology is Hebraistic—“more than all his children” is the literal translation of the original, מְּכל־בניו præ omnibus filiis, seu, magis omnibus filiis suis.

[39] See a valuable little volume on English Grammar, by Mr. Grant. The “Institutes of Latin Grammar,” by the same author, we would recommend to the attention of every classical student.

[40] I, hi, hie, “to go,” he considers to be from Ἰ-έναι, the Greek verb; and hence to be derived the Latin verb I-re, “to go,” “to hie.”

[41] Intransitive verbs sometimes are used transitively, as, when we say, “to walk the horse,” “to dance the child.” They also admit a noun of their own signification, as, “to run a race.”

[42] Conformably to general opinion I here consider the English language as having a passive voice. How far this opinion is well founded shall be the subject of future inquiry.

[43] Mr. Bosworth seems to think, that the word tense is derived from the Latin tensus, “used to denote that extension or inflexion of the word, by which difference in time is implied, or difference in action is signified.” I am rather inclined to consider it as derived from the French tems or temps, and that from tempus.

[44] “Some,” says Dr. Beattie, “will not allow anything to be a tense, but what, in one inflected word, expresses an affirmation with time; for, that those parts of the verb are not properly called tenses, which assume that appearance, by means of auxiliary words. At this rate, in English, we should have two tenses only, the present and the past in the active verb, and in the passive no tenses at all. But this is a needless nicety; and, if adopted, would introduce confusion into the grammatical art. If amaveram be a tense, why should not amatus fueram? If I heard be a tense, I did hear, I have heard, and I shall hear, must be equally entitled to that appellation.”

How simplicity can introduce confusion I am unable to comprehend, unless we are to affirm that the introduction of Greek and Latin names, to express nonentities in our language, is necessary to illustrate the grammar, and simplify the study of the language to the English scholar. But the author’s theory seems at variance with itself. He admits, that “we have no cases in English, except the addition of s in the genitive;” whence we may infer, that he considers inflexion as essential to a case. Now, if those only be cases, which are formed by inflexion, those only should, grammatically, be deemed tenses, which are formed in the same manner. When he asks, therefore, if amaveram be a tense, why should not amatus fueram be a tense also? the answer on his own principles is sufficiently obvious, namely, because the one is formed by inflexion, the other by combination. And, I would ask, if king’s be a genitive case, why, according to this theory, is not of a king entitled to the same appellation? I apprehend the answer he must give, consistently with his opinion respecting cases, will sufficiently explain why amaveram, and I heard, are tenses, while amatus fueram, and I had heard, are not.

Nay, further, if it be needless nicety to admit those only as tenses, which are formed by inflexion, is it not equally a needless nicety to admit those cases only, which are formed by varying the termination? And if confusion be introduced by denying I had heard to be a tense, why does not the learned author simplify the doctrine of English nouns, by giving them six cases, a king, of a king, to or for a king, a king, O king, with, from, in, or by a king? This surely would be to perplex, not to simplify. In short, the inconsistency of those grammarians, who deny that to be a case, which is not formed by inflexion, yet would load us with moods and tenses, not formed by change of termination, is so palpable, as to require neither illustration nor argument to expose it. If these authors would admit, that we have as many cases in English, as there exists relations expressed by prepositions, then, indeed, though they might overwhelm us with the number, we should at least acknowledge the consistency of their theory. But to adopt the principle of inflexion in one case, and reject it in another, precisely parallel, involves an inconsistency which must excite amazement. Nil fuit sic unquam impar sibi. Why do not these gentlemen favour us with a dual number, with a middle voice, and with an optative mood? Nay, as they are so fond of tenses, as to lament that we rob them of all but two, why do they not enrich us with a first and second aorist, and a paulo post future? and, if this should not suffice, they will find in Hebrew a rich supply of verbal forms. We should then have kal and niphal, pihhel and pyhhal, hiphhil and hophhal, hithpahhel and hothpahhel, and numerous other species and designations. What a wonderful acquisition this would be to our stock of moods, tenses, and voices!

One of these grammarians, indeed, reverencing the old maxim est modus in rebus, observes, that “it is necessary to set bounds to this business, so as not to occasion obscurity and perplexity, when we mean to be simple and perspicuous.” This is so far good; because, though it vindicates the impropriety, it modestly would confine it within decent bounds. But surely it cannot be necessary to remind this writer, that when the boundary between right and wrong, propriety and impropriety, is once passed, it is extremely difficult to prescribe limits to the transgression; and that arbitrary distinctions, resting on no other foundation than prejudice or fashion, must ever be vague, questionable, and capricious. These are truths of which, I am persuaded, the author to whom I allude needs not to be reminded. But it may be necessary to impress on his attention another truth equally incontestable, that no authority, how respectable soever, can sanction inconsistency; and that great names, though they may be honoured by ignorance and credulity with the most obsequious homage, will never pass with the intelligent reader, either for demonstration or for argument. This author, in defence of his theory of cases and tenses, observes, “that the proper form of a tense, in the Greek and Latin languages, is certainly that which it has in the grammars of these languages.” On what evidence is this assumption founded? Here is exhibited a petitio principii, too palpable to escape the detection of the most inattentive reader. He proceeds: “But in the Greek and Latin grammars we uniformly find that some of the tenses are formed by variations of the principal verb, and others by the addition of helping verbs.” It is answered that the admission of these forms in Greek and Latin grammars is a question of mere expediency, and nowise affects the doctrine for which we contend, any more than the admission of six cases in all the Latin declensions affects the doctrine of cases; though in no one declension have all the cases dissimilar terminations. This position it would be easy to demonstrate: it would be easy likewise to show why, notwithstanding this occasional identity of termination, six cases are admitted in all the declensions; but the subject is foreign to our present purpose. It is important, however, to observe, what has escaped the notice of the author, that the principle, on which the admission just mentioned may be expedient in a Latin grammar, has no existence whatever in the English language.

“It is, therefore,” he continues, “indisputable, that the principal, or the participle, and an auxiliary, constitute a regular tense in the Greek and Latin languages.” This, as I have remarked, is a palpable petitio principii. It is to say, that because amatus fueram is a tense, therefore “I had been loved” is a tense also. The author forgets that the premises must be true, to render the conclusion legitimate. He forgets, that a circular argument is a mere sophism, because it assumes as true what it is intended to prove. Whether amatus fueram be or be not a tense, is the very point in question; and so far am I from admitting the affirmative as unquestionable, that I contend, it has no more claim to the designation of tense, than ἔσομαι τετυφώς—no more claim than amandum est mihi, amari oportet, or amandus sum, have to be called moods. Here I must request the reader to bear in mind the necessary distinction between the grammar of a language and its capacity of expression.

In answer to the objection of inconsistency, in admitting tenses where there is no inflexion, yet rejecting cases where there is no change of termination, the author says, “that such a mode of declension cannot apply to our language.” But why can it not apply? Why not give as English cases, to a king, of a king, from a king, with a king, by a king, at a king, about a king, &c. &c.? The mode is certainly applicable, whatever may be the consequences of that application. A case surely is as easily formed by a noun and preposition, as a tense by a participle and auxiliary. But the author observes, “the English language would then have a much greater number of cases than the Greek and Latin languages.” And why not? Is the number of cases in English, or any other language, to be limited by the number in Greek or Latin? or does the author mean to say, that there is any peculiar propriety in the number five or six? The author, to be consistent with himself, ought to acknowledge as many cases as there are prepositions to be found in the English language. This, it may be said, would encumber our grammar, and embarrass the learner. This is, indeed, an argument against the expediency of the application, but not against the practicability of the principle in question. Besides, it may be asked, why does the author confine his love of simplification to cases? Why not extend it to tenses also? Why maintain, that inflexion only makes a case, and that a tense is formed without inflexion? Why dismiss one encumbrance, and admit another?

The author observes, that “from grammarians, who form their ideas and make their decisions respecting this part of grammar, on the principles and construction of languages, which in these points do not suit the peculiar nature of our own, but differ considerably from it, we may naturally expect grammatical schemes that are neither perspicuous nor consistent, and which will tend more to perplex than inform the learner.” Had I been reprehending the author’s own practice, I should have employed nearly the same language. How these observations, certainly judicious and correct, can be reconciled with the doctrine of the writer himself, I am utterly at a loss to conceive. His ideas of consistency and simplicity are to me incomprehensible. He rejects prepositional cases for the sake of simplicity, and he admits various moods and tenses, equally foreign to the genius of our language, in order to avoid perplexity. Surely this is not a “consistent scheme.” Nay, he tells us, “that on the principle of imitating other languages in names and forms (I beseech the reader to mark the words), without a correspondence in nature and idiom, we might adopt a number of declensions, as well as a variety of cases, for English substantives: but,” he adds, “this variety does not at all correspond with the idiom of our language.” After this observation, argument surely becomes unnecessary.

I have here, the reader will perceive, assailed the author’s doctrine merely on the ground of inconsistency. It is liable, however, to objections of a more serious nature; and were I not apprehensive that I have already exhausted the patience of the reader, I should now proceed to state these objections. There is one observation, however, which I feel it necessary to make. The author remarks, that to take the tenses as they are commonly received, and endeavour to ascertain their nature and their differences, “is a much more useful exercise, as well as a more proper, for a work of this kind, than to raise, as might be easily raised, new theories on the subject.” If the author by this intends to insinuate that our doctrine is new, he errs egregiously. For Wallis, one of the oldest, and certainly one of the best of our English grammarians, duly attentive to the simplicity of that language whose grammar he was exhibiting, assigned only two tenses to the English verb. He says, Nos duo tantum habemus tempora Præsens et Præteritum; and on this simple principle his explanation of the verb proceeds. In the preface to his grammar, he censures his few predecessors for violating the simplicity of the English language, by the introduction of names and rules foreign to the English idiom. Cur hujusmodi casuum, generum, modorum, temporumque fictam et ineptam plane congeriem introducamus citra omnem necessitatem, aut in ipsa lingua fundamentum, nulla ratio suadet. And so little was he aware that the introduction of technical names for things which have no existence, facilitates the acquisition of any art or science, that he affirms it in regard to the subject before us to be the cause of great confusion and perplexity. Quæ (inutilia præcepta) a lingua nostra sunt prorsus aliena, adeoque confusionem potius et obscuritatem pariunt, quam explicationi inserviunt.

[45] Mr. Gilchrist, in his “Philosophic Etymology,” represents the terminations ath, eth, ad, ed, et, en, an, as conjunctives, equivalent to the sign +, denoting add, or join (see p. 162). In another part of the same work, he considers did to be do doubled, as dedi from the Latin do, which he believes to be the very same word with our do. Repetition, he observes, is a mode of expressing complete action. Hence we have do, do-ed, dede, did, in English. This explanation is ingenious, and furnishes a probable account of the origin of the word did, which he remarks was formerly spelled dede.

[46]

I be	Thou beest	He, she, or it be
We be	Ye or you be	They be,
from the Saxon
Ic beo	Thu beest	He beeth,

are obsolete, unless followed by a concessive term. Thus, instead of saying, “Many there be that go in thereat,” we should now say, “Many there are.” For “to whom all hearts be open,” we should now write, “to whom all hearts are open.” We find them, however, used with the conjunctions if and though; thus, “If this be my notion of a great part of that high science, divinity, you will be so civil as to imagine, I lay no mighty stress upon the rest.”—Pope. That this was his notion the author had previously declared; the introductory clause, therefore, is clearly affirmative, and is the same as if he had said, “As this is my notion.” “Although she be abundantly grateful to all her protectors, yet I observe your name most often in her mouth.”—Swift. “The paper, although it be written with spirit, yet would have scarce cleared a shilling.”—Swift. In the two last sentences the meaning is affirmative; nothing conditional or contingent being implied.

In the following examples, it expresses doubt or contingency. “If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down:” i.e. “shouldst be.” “If I be in difficulty, I will ask your aid;” i.e. “If I should be.”

[47] Though the authority of Milton, Dryden, Pope, and Swift, can be pleaded in favour of wert, as the second person singular of this tense, I am inclined to agree with Lowth, that in conformity to analogy, as well as the practice of the best ancient writers, it would be better to confine wert to the imperfect conditional.

[48] If the expression of time with an attribute “be sufficient to make a verb, the participle must be a verb too, because it signifies time also. But the essence of a verb consisting in predication, which is peculiar to it, and incommunicable to all other parts of speech, and these infinitives never predicating, they cannot be verbs. Again, the essence of a noun consisting in its so subsisting in the understanding, as that it may be the subject of predication, and these infinitives being all capable of so subsisting, they must of necessity be nouns.”—R. Johnson’s Gram. Comment.

[49] The variety of form which this verb assumes, clearly shows that it has proceeded from different sources.

Am is from the Anglo-Saxon eom, and is from the Anglo-Saxon ys or is; and these have been supposed to have come from the Greek εἰμὶ, εἶς.

The derivation of are is doubtful. It may, perhaps, have proceeded directly from er or erum of the Icelandic verb, denoting “to be.” By Mr. Gilchrist it is considered as “the same with the infinitive termination are, ere, ire.” Mr. Webb conjectured, that it might have some relation to the Greek ἔαρ, spring. Both these explanations appear to us somewhat fanciful.

Art is from the Anglo-Saxon eart. “Thou eart,” thou art.

Was is evidently the Anglo-Saxon wæs; and wast, wert, probably from the Franco-Theatisc, warst; and were from the Anglo-Saxon wære, wæron.

Be is from the Anglo-Saxon Ic beo, I am, which, with the Gaelic verb bi, to be, Mr. Webb considered to be derived from βίος, life, as the Latin fui, from φύω, to grow. This conjecture he supports by several pertinent quotations. See Mr. Bosworth’s “Elements of Anglo-Saxon Grammar,” p. 164.

[50] The words did, hast, hath, has, had, shall, wilt, are evidently, as Wallis observes, contracted for doed, haveth, haves, haved, shall’st, will’st.

[51] This verb is derived from the Saxon magan, posse, the present of which is Ic mæg, and the preterite Ic miht. Hence also Ic mot.

“For as the fisshe, if it be drie,

Mote in defaute of water die.”—Gower.

[52] This verb is derived from cunnan, scire, posse, sapere. Hence is derived the verb “to ken,” or “to know;” or more probably, indeed, they were one and the same word: hence also the word cunning. “To ken” is still used in Scotland; and in the expression of Shakspeare, “I ken them from afar,” is erroneously considered by some critics to mean, “I see them.”

[53] This verb is, unquestionably, a derivative from the Saxon ꞅceal, I owe or I ought, and was originally of the same import. I shall denoted “it is my duty,” and was precisely synonymous with debeo in Latin. Chaucer says, “The faith I shall to God;” that is, “the faith I owe to God.” “Thou shalt not kill,” or “thou oughtest not to kill.” In this sense shall is a present tense, and denoted present duty or obligation. But, as all duties and all commands, though present in respect to their obligation and authority, must be future in regard to their execution; so by a natural transition, observable in most languages, this word, significant of present duty, came to be a note of future time. I have considered it, however, as a present tense; 1st, because it originally denoted present time; 2dly, because it still retains the form of a present, preserving thus the same analogy to should that can does to could, may to might, will to would; and 3dly, because it is no singular thing to have a verb in the present tense, expressive of future time, commencing from the present moment; for such precisely is the Greek verb μέλλω, futurus sum. Nay, the verb will denotes present inclination, yet in some of its persons, like shall, expresses futurition. I have considered, therefore, the verb shall as a present tense, of which should is the preterperfect.

Johnson’s explanation of the meaning of this verb is so perspicuous, that, as foreigners are apt to mistake its use, I shall here transcribe his words. I shall love: “it will be so that I must love,” “I am resolved to love.” Shall I love? “will it be permitted me to love?” “will it be that I must love?” Thou shalt love: “I command thee to love;” “it is permitted thee to love;” “it will be, that thou must love.” Shalt thou love? “will it be, that thou must love?” “will it be permitted thee to love?” He shall love: “it will be, that he must love;” “it is commanded that he love.” Shall he love? “is it permitted him to love?” The plural persons follow the signification of the singular.

I transcribe also the same author’s explanation of the verb I will. I will come: “I am willing to come,” “I am determined to come.” Thou wilt come: “it must be, that thou must come,” importing necessity; or “it shall be, that thou shalt come,” importing choice. Wilt thou come? “hast thou determined to come?” importing choice. He will come: “he is resolved to come;” or “it must be, that he must come,” importing choice or necessity.

Brightland’s short rule may be of some service in assisting foreigners to distinguish the use of these two verbs. It is this:

“In the first person simply shall foretels:

In will a threat, or else a promise, dwells;

Shall in the second and the third does threat;

Will simply then foretels the future feat.”

In addition to these directions for the use of shall and will, it is to be observed, that, when the second and third persons are represented as the subjects of their own expressions, or their own thoughts, shall foretels, as in the first person, thus, “he says he shall be a loser by this bargain:” “do you suppose you shall go?” “He hoped he should recover,” and “he hoped he would recover,” are expressions of different import. In the former, the two pronouns necessarily refer to the same person; in the latter, they do not.

[54] This verb is derived from the Saxon verb willan, velle, the preterite of which is Ic wold.

[55] The preterite would is frequently employed, like the Latin preterimperfect tense, to denote what is usual or customary. Thus,

Quintilio si quid recitares, corrige, sodes,

Hoc, aiebat, et hoc; melius te posse negares,

Bis terque expertum frustra; delere jubebat,

Et malè tornatos incudi reddere versus:

Si defendere delictum quàm vertere, malles,

Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam insumebat inanem.

Horace.

where the verbs aiebat, jubebat, insumebat, may be translated, “he would say,” “he would desire,” “he would spend.” Thus also in English,

Pleas’d with my admiration, and the fire

His speech struck from me, the old man would shake

His years away, and act his young encounters:

Then having show’d his wounds, he’d sit him down.

[56] In Latin the imperfect potential is frequently employed in the same manner to denote present time; thus, irem si vellem, expresses present liberty and inclination. And the same analogy obtains in Latin; for we say, either, tu, si hic sis, aliter sentias, or tu, si hic esses, aliter sentires. In such examples, it is intended to signify either the coexistence of two circumstances, or the one as the immediate consequence of the other. An identity of tense, therefore, best expresses contemporary events.

[57] If it should be said, that the participle may properly be considered as a verb, since it implies an attribute with time, I would ask, whether affirmation, the most important of all circumstances, and without which no communication could take place, should be overlooked in our classification of words agreeably to their import, or the offices which they perform. If the verb and participle be referred to one class, the principal part of speech which has been pre-eminently distinguished by the name of verb, or the word, is degraded from its rank, and confounded with a species of words which are not even necessary to the communication of thought. Surely, if any circumstance can entitle any sort of words to a distinct reference, it is that of affirmation.

If it should be objected that the participle, like the verb, governs a case, I would ask, because lectio, tactio, and many other substantives, are found sometimes joined with an accusative case, were they ever on this account considered as verbs? Besides, if the government of a case be urged as an argument, what becomes of those participles which govern no case? Nay, if the government of a case be deemed the criterion of a verb, what name shall we assign to those verbs which have no regimen at all? If any species of words is to be distinguished from another, the characteristic difference must surely belong, not to part only, but to the whole.

[58] The termination ing is from the Anglo-Saxon ande, ænde, ende, ind, onde, unde, ynde, and corresponds to the termination of the Latin gerunds in andum and endum, expressing continuation, Amandum, Lufiande, Loving.

[59] Here I would be understood to reason on their own principles; for the truth is, that each of these tenses admits a definitive.

[60] See the Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. iii.

[61] Dr. Beattie observes, “that the fundamental error of those philosophers who deny the existence of present time is, that they suppose the present instant to have, like a geometrical point, neither parts nor magnitude. But as nothing is, in respect of our senses, a geometrical point, (for whatever we see or touch must of necessity have magnitude,) so neither is the present, or any other instant, wholly unextended.” His argument amounts to this, that as a mathematical point is not an object of sense, nor has any real existence, so neither has a metaphysical instant. It is granted. They are each ideal. But does this prove the author’s position, that philosophers have erred in asserting their similarity? or does it evince that no analogy subsists between them? Quite the reverse. The truth is, a geometrical point is purely ideal; it is necessary to the truth of mathematical demonstration, that it be conceived to have no parts. Finding it convenient to represent it to sense, we therefore give it magnitude. A metaphysical instant, or present time, is in like manner ideal; but we find it convenient to assume as present an extended space. The doctor observes, that sense perceives nothing but what is present. It is true; but it should be remembered that not time, but objects which exist in time, are perceived by the senses. It may enable a person to form a correct idea of this matter, if he will ask himself, what he means by present time. If it be the present hour, is it not obvious that part of it is past, and part of it future? If it be the present minute, it is equally clear, that the whole of it cannot be present at once. Nay, if it be the present vibration of the pendulum, is it not obvious that part of it is performed, and part of it remains to be performed? Nor is it possible to stop in this investigation, till present time, strictly speaking, be proved to have no existence. Did it exist, it must be extended; and if extended, it cannot be present, for past and future must necessarily be included in it. If it should be answered, that this proves time, like matter, infinitely divisible, and that the most tedious process will still leave something capable of division, I reply, that as whatever may be left in the one case must be figure, and not a point, so the remainder, in the other, must be a portion of extended time, how minute soever, and not an instant. The process, therefore, must be continued, till we arrive in idea at a point and an instant, incapable of division, being not made up of parts.

[62] When we say, God is good, I would ask Dr. Browne whether the verb be definite or indefinite, whether it denote perfection or imperfection, or have no reference to either. It appears to me that neither of the terms is in his sense applicable; for that the verb denotes simple affirmation with time; or, if applicable, that the tense is, contrary to his opinion, indefinite, the idea of completion or imperfection being entirely excluded.

[63] These phraseologies, as the author last quoted justly observes, are harsh to the ear, and appear exceedingly awkward; but a little attention will suffice to show that they correctly exhibit the ideas implied by the tense which we have at present under consideration.

[64] See Encyc. Brit., Art. Grammar.

[65] I consider that no language, grammatically examined, has more cases, tenses, or moods, than are formed by inflexion. But if any person be inclined to call these forms of expression by the name of imperative mood, I have no objection. Only let him be consistent, and call “Dost thou love?” an interrogative mood, adopting also the precative, the requisitive, the optative, the hortative, &c., together with the various cases in nouns, and tenses in verbs, which are formed by prepositions and auxiliary verbs: I should only apprehend, that language would fail him to assign them names.

If it should be asked, “Agreeably to your doctrine of the verb, as implying affirmation, what part of speech would you make the verbs in the following sentences, Depart instantly, improve your time, forgive us our sins? Will it be said that the verbs in these phrases are assertions?” I should answer that all moods, metaphysically considered, are, in my apprehension, equally indicative. Every possible form of speech can do nothing but express the sentiment of the speaker, his desire, his wish, his sensation, his perception, his belief, &c. Whatever form, therefore, the expression may assume, it must be resolvable into assertion; and must be considered as expressing, in the person of the speaker, what he desires, wishes, feels, thinks, and so forth. No one surely will deny, that “thou oughtest not to kill,” “thou shalt not kill,” “thou art forbidden to kill,” are affirmations. And are not these expressions so nearly equivalent to “do not kill,” that in Greek and Latin they are rendered indifferently either by οὐ φονεύσεις, or, μὴ φόνευε; non occides, or ne occidito? If then we say, “kill thou,” will it be contended that, though the prohibition implies an affirmation of the speaker, the command does not? The expression I conceive to be strictly equivalent to “thou shalt kill,” “thou art ordered to kill.” Hence ave and jubeo te avere, are deemed expressions of the same import. If the question be examined grammatically, or as a subject of pure grammar, I am inclined to think that where there is no variety of termination, there cannot be established a diversity of mood.

[66] This verb is derived from the Saxon verb Ic most, ego debeo.

[67] It belongs not to my province to inquire, how amarem came to signify I might or could love, or whether it be strictly in the potential or the subjunctive mood. I here take it for granted that amarem does, without an ellipsis, signify, I might, could, would, or should love, implying licet, possum, volo, debeo.—See Johnson’s Comment.

[68] Why this verb forms an exception, it would be easy to explain.

[69] See Webster’s Dissertations, p. 263.

[70] A similar phraseology in the use of the pluperfect indicative for the same tense subjunctive, obtains in Latin, as

“Impulerat ferro Argolicas fœdare latebras.”—Virgil.

[71] The Latins used si in both cases: and though their poets did not attend to this distinction, their prose writers generally observed it, by joining si for quoniam with the indicative mood.

[72] Where R is added, the verb follows also the general rule.

[73] Some have excluded bore as the preterite of this verb. We have sufficient authority, however, for admitting it; thus,

“By marrying her who bore me.”—Dryden.

[74] Beholden is obsolescent in this sense.

[75] “So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit.”—Pope.

“There was lately a young gentleman bit to the bone.”—Tatler.

[76] Brake seems now obsolescent.

[77] Though Johnson has not admitted the regular form of the participle in this verb, I think there is sufficient authority for concurring with Lowth in receiving builded as the participle as well as built, though it be not in such general use.

[78] Chode, which occurs twice in the Bible, is now obsolete.

[79] Lowth has given clomb as the preterite of climb. I can find, however, no authority later than Spenser, and am inclined to think it is now obsolete.

[80] The irregular preterite clad is obsolescent.

[81] I know no example in which the preterite, which analogically would be forwent, is to be found. It may be here remarked that this verb, in violation of analogy, is generally spelled forego, as if it meant “to go before.” This is equally improper as it would be to write forebid, foresake, foreswear, for forbid, forsake, forswear.

[82] Fraught is more properly an adjective than participle.

[83] This verb, Lowth says, when employed as an active verb, “may perhaps, most properly be used in the regular form.” Here the learned author appears to me, if he be not chargeable with error, to have expressed his meaning incorrectly; for it cannot be disputed that the irregular form of this verb is frequently, and with unquestionable propriety, used in an active sense. Thus we say, “the servant hung the scales in the cellar;” and passively, “the scales were hung by the servant.” I should, therefore, rather say that, when this verb denotes suspension, for the purpose of destroying life, the regular form is far preferable. Thus, “the man was hanged,” not “hung.”

[84] The irregular preterite and participle of this verb are employed in sea language; but the latter rarely.

[85] Lowth has given holpen as the participle; it is now obsolescent, if not obsolete. It belonged to the verb to holp, which has been long out of use.

[86] Several grammarians have rejected hid as a participle. It rests, however, on unquestionable authority; but hidden is preferable.

[87] Holden, which was some years ago obsolescent, is now returning into more general use.

[88] Laden, like fraught, may be deemed an adjective.

[89] Priestley, I apprehend, has erred in giving lain as the participle of this verb.

[90] Lien, though not so generally used as lain, is not destitute of unexceptionable authority. I have, therefore, with Johnson and Lowth, given it as the participle. Murray has omitted it.

[91] Some grammarians have rejected lit. It can plead, however, colloquial usage in its favour, and even other authority. “I lit my pipe with the paper.”—Addison.

[92] With Priestley and Lowth, I have given this verb a regular participle; for which, I believe, there is sufficient authority, without adducing the example of Shakspeare. Most other grammarians have rejected it.

[93] Quitted is far more generally used as the preterite than quit.

[94] Priestley has rejected rid, and Murray ridden, as the participle, while Johnson makes rid the preterite of ride. As rid is the present and preterite of another verb, it would, perhaps, be better to dismiss it entirely from the verb to ride, and conjugate, with Priestley, ride, rode, ridden.

[95] Our translators of the Bible have used roast as the perfect participle. In this sense it is almost obsolete. Roast beef retains its ground.

[96] Story, in his Grammar, has most unwarrantably asserted, that the participle of this verb should be shaked. This word is certainly obsolete, and, I apprehend, was never in general use. I have been able to find only one example of shaked as the participle, “A sly and constant knave, not to be shaked.”—Shakspeare. And two as the preterite, “They shaked their heads.”—Psal. cxi. 55. “I shaked my head.”—Steele, Spectator, No. iv.

[97] Of these preterites, the latter is now more generally used. Our translators of the Bible used the former.

[98] A. Murray has rejected sung as the preterite, and L. Murray has rejected sang. Each preterite, however, rests on good authority.

The same observation may be made respecting sank and sunk.

[99] Sitten, though formerly in use, is now obsolescent. Laudable attempts, however, have been made to restore it. “To have sitten on the heads of the apostles.”—Middleton.

“Soon after the termination of this business, the parliament, which had now sitten three years,” &c.—Belsham’s Hist.

“And he would gladly, for the sake of dispatch, have called together the same parliament, which had sitten under his father.”—Hume, vol. vi. p. 199.

Respecting the preterites which have a or u, as slang, or slung, sank, or sunk, it would be better were the former only to be used, as the preterite and participle would thus be discriminated.

[100] Pope has used the regular form of the preterite:

“In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,

Sprung the rank weed, and thrived with large increase.”

Essay on Crit.

Horsley, with one or two other writers, have employed the regular participle.

[101] Washen seems obsolescent, if not obsolete. The compound unwashen occurs in our translation of the Bible.

[102] Pope, and our translators of the Bible, have used winded as the preterite. The other form, however, is in far more general use.

[103] Wrote, as the participle, is generally disused, and likewise writ. The latter was used as a preterite by Pope, Swift, and other writers of the same period.

[104] Wit is now confined to the phrase to wit, or namely. It is an abbreviation from the Anglo-Saxon verb þiꞇan, to know.

[105] This verb, as an auxiliary, is inflexible; thus we say, “he will go,” and “he wills to go.”

[106] This verb, which signifies “to think,” or “to imagine,” is now obsolete.

[107] This verb is now used as significant of present duty. It was originally the preterite, and the perfect participle of the verb to owe; and is corruptedly used in Scotland still to express a past debt. “Apprehending the occasion, I will add a continuance to that happy motion, and besides give you some tribute of the love and duty I long have ought you.”—Spelman.

“This blood, which men by treason sought,

That followed, sir, which to myself I ought.”—Dryden.

It is now used in the present tense only; and, when past duty or obligation is to be signified, we note, as I formerly mentioned, the past time by the preterite sense of the subsequent verb; thus, “I ought to read,” “I ought to have read.” The classical scholar knows that the reverse takes place in Latin. Debeo legere, debui legere. Cicero, however, though very rarely indeed, uses the preterite of the infinitive after the preterite tense of this verb.

Murray has told us, that must and ought have both a present and past signification, and, in proof of this, he adduces the following examples:—“I must own, that I am to blame.” “He must have been mistaken.” “Speaking things which they ought not.” “These ought ye to have done.” This is truly a strange, and, I verily believe, a singular opinion. Its inaccuracy is so manifest, that every reader of discernment must intuitively perceive it. The opinion itself, indeed, is not more surprising, than the ground on which it is maintained by the author. It surely requires but a moderate portion of sagacity to perceive, that the past time, in the second and fourth examples, is not denoted by must and ought, but by the expressions “have been” and “have done.” In Latin, as I have just observed, necessity and duty are expressed as either present, past, or future, the verbs denoting these having the three correspondent tenses; and the object of the necessity or duty is expressed as contemporary, or relatively present. In English, on the contrary, the two verbs must and ought having only the present tense, we are obliged to note the past time by employing the preterite tense of the subsequent verb. Thus, Me ire oportet, “I ought to go,” “I must go.” Me ire oportuit, “I ought to have gone,” “I must have gone.” As well may it be affirmed, that the past time is denoted by ire and not oportuit, as that it is signified by must and not by “have gone.”

In the time of Wallis, the term must, as a preterite tense, was almost obsolete. “Aliquando,” he remarks, “sed rarius in præterito dicitur.” And when it was employed as a preterite, it was followed by the present tense. This verb in German has, I understand, a preterite tense.

[108] Firstly, is used by some writers.

[109] Denominativa terminantur in lic vel lice, ut þeꞃlic virilis, ælic legitimus, ꞃælic marinus, þiꝼlic muliebris, &c. Hanc terminationem hodie mutavimus in like vel ly, ut in godlike vel godly. Hickesii Thes.

The correctness of this explanation has been controverted by Mr. Gilchrist, who contends that, though it may answer in some cases, it will fail “in nine times out of ten.” In the expressions “weekly wages,” “daily labour,” “yearly income,” he observes, that the meaning cannot be, “wages like a week,” “labour like a day,” “income like a year.” He rejects, therefore, this explanation, and considers the termination lic to be the same with lig in the Latin verb ligo, “to tie,” or “join,” and to have the same effect as other conjunctive particles, as “a friendly part,” “a friend’s part,” “yearly produce,” “year’s produce.” Though a copious induction of examples justifies us in refusing our assent to Mr. Gilchrist’s exaggerated statement, that the derivation proposed by Hickes will fail in nine cases out of ten; we candidly acknowledge, that in many instances it is inadmissible; and that Mr. Gilchrist’s suggestion is ingenious, though it will be found, we apprehend, opposed by the same objection as he urges against Hickes’s explanation. Nor does it appear to us, that Mr. Gilchrist’s argument subverts the doctrine generally received. The termination may have been originally what Hickes supposed, and the principle of analogy may, in time, have introduced similar compositions, when this meaning of the termination ceased to be regarded. Thus the term candidly, which we have just now used, was probably introduced, in conformity to analogy, with no reference whatever to the meaning of the termination. It may be here also observed, that the import of this term seems inexplicable on the hypothesis that ly is a mere term of conjunction.

[110] These three adverbs, denoting motion or rest in a place, are frequently employed by us, in imitation of the French, to denote motion to a place in the same sense with the three following adverbs. It would be better, however, were the distinction observed. The French use ici for here and hither, là for there and thither, où for where and whither.

[111]

“For blithesome Sir John Barleycorn

Had sae allur’d them i’ the morn,

That, what wi’ drams, and mony a horn,

And reaming bicker,

The ferly is, withouten scorn,

They wauk’d sae sicker.”

Mayne’s Siller Gun.

This animated little poem will be read with no common pleasure by every admirer of the Scottish muse. In felicity of description the author is not inferior to Burns, while in delicacy of humour he may claim the superiority.

This preposition is supposed by Mr. Gilchrist to be derived from forth, or rather to be a different form of that word. See his “Philosophic Etymology,” a work exhibiting considerable ingenuity and philological knowledge, combined with many fanciful and unphilosophical opinions.

[112] It is possible that the Greek ἀπό, and the Latin ab derived from it, had their origin in אב pater principium, “author,” or “principle of existence.”

[113] The verb, “to twin,” is still used in Scotland for “to part,” or “separate.”

[114] That the Saxon word ægther signified each, is sufficiently evident from a variety of examples; and the adjective either has continued to be used in that sense by reputable writers. Lowth, who, I apprehend, did not advert to its primitive signification, condemns the use of it as equivalent to each; and notwithstanding its original import, I agree with him in thinking, that it is much better to confine its meaning to “one of two.” The reason will be assigned hereafter.

[115] Bot ser that Virgil standis but compare.—Gawin Douglass.

[116] An occurs frequently for if in the earliest English writers. Bacon frequently uses it in this sense. “Fortune is to be honoured and respected, an it be but for her daughters, Confidence and Reputation.” “And certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they will set their house on fire, an it were, but to roast their eggs.”—Bacon’s Essays, Civ. and Mor. In the folio edition, printed in 1740, it is improperly spelled and. An for if is still retained in our address to royalty, An ’t please your majesty: and in Scotland is in general use.

[117] The correctness of most of these, and several other of Tooke’s etymologies, has been disputed, in a learned and ingenious article in the Quarterly Review (No. 108). In many of the critic’s animadversions it is impossible not to concur; but we do not agree with him, when he rejects the derivation of if from the Anglo-Saxon verb gifan, “to give;” nor do we consider that Jamieson’s argument, to which he refers, is such as to justify the critic’s conclusion. The distinction between bot and but he confidently pronounces to be “a mere chimera,” and maintains that but is in every instance be utan, “be out,” without corresponding to the Latin words sed, vero, autem, sine. It must be acknowledged that Tooke’s derivation is erroneous, there being no such Anglo-Saxon verb as “botan,” of which bot could be the imperative. But we agree with Dr. Jamieson in thinking, whatever may be the etymology, that but and bot are originally distinct words. Indeed, it appears to us, that the reasoning of the critic is neither correct, nor quite consistent with itself. We do not consider but for bot to be discriminative; nor can we allow, that, if but be equivalent to sed, se, sine, implying separation, it can also be equivalent to autem, “moreover,” to which bot corresponds, implying adjection, or subjunction. Nor can we admit, that the synonymous words mais (French), maar (Dutch), ma (Italian), imply preference, as the critic affirms, but something to be added, corresponding with what has been previously said.

[118] The critic to whom we have alluded in the preceding note contends, that except cannot be an imperative, “because it has no subject; and that a verb could not be employed, in any language that distinguishes the different persons, without a gross violation of idiom.” He considers the word to be an abbreviated participle. The correctness of this opinion I am disposed to question. In our Anglo-Saxon translation, the term except is rendered by buton, which is no participle; moreover, to place the participle perfect before the noun, the clause being absolute, is irreconcilable with the idiom of our language. “‘All were involved in this affair, except one;’ that is,” says Webster, who seems divided between the imperative and the participle, “‘one excepted.’” Now “one excepted,” and “excepting one,” are perfectly consonant with analogy; but “excepted one” is sanctioned by no authority. I am inclined to think that our translators, without regarding the Latin or the Icelandic idiom, to which the reviewer refers, used the word except as an imperative, without a subject. He denies, however, that it can be so employed. He surely will not deny, that usage warrants us in saying, “His arguments, take them as here exhibited, amount to nothing.” The use of the imperative, infinitive, and participles, in an absolute sense, or without a subject, is a common idiom in our language, and recommends itself, as shall be afterwards shown, by some peculiar advantages.

[119] This phraseology has been censured by Buchanan and the author of the British Grammar; but, as I apprehend, without the shadow of authority. To ask a question with a principal verb, as burns he, the latter affirms to be a barbarism. To disprove the assertion, I shall only, in addition to the one quoted from Macbeth, produce these examples. “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?”—Bible. “Died he not in bed?”—Shakspeare. “Or flies the javelin swifter to its mark?”—Ib. “And live there men who slight immortal fame?”—Pope.

[120] Our translators, as the judicious critic last quoted observes, have totally enervated the strength of the original, which runs thus, ἔπεσε, ἔπεσε, Βαβυλὼν ἡ πόλις ἡ μεγάλη, and which they have rendered, “Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city.”

[121] The ellipsis of the copulative, in such examples, was termed by the ancients asyndeton; and this deviation from the established rules of syntax they referred to a grammatical figure termed syllepsis indirecta, or “indirect comprehension of several singulars under one plural,” opposed to the syllepsis directa, or that expressed by a copulative.

[122] It is sometimes used for every, and applied to more than two.

[123] In the vulgar translation of the Bible, this mode of expression frequently occurs, thus, “I am thy exceeding great reward.” “I will make thee exceeding fruitful.”

Wallis’s admission of this phraseology proves it to have been good English when he wrote, or that, in his opinion at least, it was unobjectionable. His translation of vir summe sapiens, is “a man exceeding wise.” This, and similar modes of expression, appear to have been in his time very common, thus,

“ Although he was exceeding wealthy.”—Peers.

“He was moreover extraordinary courteous.”—Ibid.

“The Athenians were extreme apprehensive of his growing power.”—Tully.

And in our version of the Bible we find a few such expressions as the following: “The house I am to build, shall be wonderful great.”

Addison likewise often uses the phrase “exceeding great;” and Swift, less pardonably, writes “extreme unwilling,” “extreme good.”

[124] We say, indeed, “Messrs. Thomson;” but we seldom or never say, “the two Messrs. Thomson,” but “the two Mr. Thomsons.”

[125] Horne Tooke observes, that Lowth has rejected much good English: and it is to be apprehended, that the classical scholar is too prone to condemn in his own language whatever accords not with the Latin idiom.

[126] See Johnson’s Comm. p. 351, and Seyer on the Latin Verb, p. 174. To the arguments there offered, many others might be added.

[127] The propriety of this collocation of the negative will be more evident, if we attend to the two very different meanings of the word but. According to the former construction of the sentence, but is the imperative of beutan, “to be out,” and is synonymous with unless or except; thus, “but with the approbation,” or except with the approbation. According to the latter construction, it is properly bot, the imperative of botan, “to add.” Thus, “he was honoured not with (i.e. exclude or except) this reward, but (add) with the approbation of the people.”

[128] It is to be observed that a different collocation is sometimes admissible without any risk of ambiguity, especially when the clause is negative. Thus we may say, “His thoughts were entertained with not only,” i.e. “with not one thing,” viz. “the joys” with which he was surrounded; or, “not only with the joys; but (bot or add) a noble gratitude and divine pleasure.”

Usage in common conversation, and in familiar language, inclines to this arrangement, and many of our best writers frequently adopt it.

[129] The omission of the auxiliary in such examples tends much to produce ambiguity: for, as the adverb, when placed between the noun and the attributive, may qualify either the former or the latter, perspicuity requires the insertion of the auxiliary.

[130] Non ut intelligere possit, sed ne omnino possit non intelligere, curandum.

[131] In this and similar examples, the word only has been generally considered as an adjective, equivalent to solus. Thus, if we say, ille solum erat dives, it means, “he was only rich,” or “he was nothing but rich.” If we say, ille solus erat dives, it means, “he only,” or “he alone was rich.” In the latter example, the word only has been termed an adjective. It is from the equivalence of the words only and alone, in such examples as the latter, that several writers have employed them, as if, in all cases, synonymous. They are by no means, however, of the same import. Thus, if we say, “virtue alone is true nobility,” it means “virtue singly, or by itself, is true nobility;” if we say, “virtue only is true nobility,” it implies that nothing but virtue is true nobility. The expressions, therefore, are not equivalent. Both sentiments are conveyed in the following passage:

... “Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus.”—Juvenal, Sat. viii.

The same observations are applicable to the collocation of the numeral term first, as equivalent either to primus or primum; and also to the position of many other words, which are used adjectively and adverbially. The classical scholar needs not to be informed, that Annibal primus, and Annibal primum—Alpes transiit, are not expressions mutually convertible.

[132] Addison, Pope, Swift, Steele, and Johnson, very generally place the adverb before the attributive, to which it refers, and very often also, before the substantive. “What he said, was only to commend my prudence.”—Addison. “He did not pretend to extirpate French music, but only to cultivate and civilise it.”—Addison. “I was only scribbling.”—Johnson. “Not only the thought, but the language is majestic.”—Addison. “Known only to those, who enjoy.”—Johnson. “Lay the blame only on themselves.”—Johnson. “Witty only by the help of speech.”—Steele.

Our translators of the Bible have almost uniformly observed the same collocation in respect to the predicate; but have, with few or no deviations, preferred a different arrangement in regard to the subject, placing the adverb after, and not before it. It is in conformity to their practice, that we have recommended the rule here given. From the following examples, to which many more might be added, it will appear that when the adverb referred to a sentence, they made it the introductory word; when it affected an attributive, they placed the adverb before it; and when it referred to a substantive, or the name of a subject, they put the adverb after it. “Only take heed to thyself.” “Only he shall not go in unto the vail.” “Only thou shalt not number the tribe of Levi.” ... “The thoughts of his heart are only evil.” “Thou shalt be only oppressed.” “They might only touch the hem of his garment.” ... “None followed David, but Judah only.” “He only of Jeroboam shall come to the grave.” “Against thee only have I sinned.” “Take nothing for your journey, but a staff only.” “David did that only which was right.” “They only shall be delivered.” “This only have I found.” “If in this life only we have hope.”

[133] In colloquial language, but chiefly among the vulgar, prepositions are prefixed to verbs indicative.

[134]

“Est vetus, atque probus, centum qui perficit annos.

Quid? qui deperiit minor uno mense, vel anno;

Inter quos referendus erit? veteresne poetas,

An quos et præsens et postera respuet ætas?

Iste quidem veteres inter ponetur honestè,

Qui vel mense brevi, vel toto est junior anno.

Utor permisso, caudæque pilos ut equinæ

Paulatim vello; et demo unum, demo etiam unum;

Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi,

Qui redit ad fastos.”

Horace, Ep. I. Lib. 2.

[135] The Saxon word is awiht, contracted auht, aliquid.

[136] We have remarked the same violation of common sense, as occurring in Cicero, oftener than once. “Alium alio nequiorem.”—Ep. Fam. “Aliam alia jucundiorem.”—Att.

[137] Deprehendat, quæ barbara, quæ impropria, quæ contra legem loquendi composita.—Quintil. lib. i. cap. 5.

[138] In conformity to the example of most of our grammarians, I have employed the term etymology in the title of this work, and wherever else it occurs, as denoting that part of grammar, which teaches the inflection of words. In its primitive acceptation, it means an exposition of their derivation, and is still employed in that sense, as well as in the signification in which it is here used. Some writers have preferred the term analogy to express the doctrine of inflection. If the principle of analogy or similitude were confined to inflection, the designation might be proper; but, as this principle extends to the concord, the government, and the collocation, generally termed the syntax of words, it cannot be considered an appropriate name for that part of grammar, which teaches merely inflection or verbal termination. Analogy is the leading principle, on which every grammatical rule is founded; and those, who have employed the term for etymology, it would be easy to show, have not been observant of strict consistency.

[139] The reader is requested to observe, that under “solecism,” I have included several phraseologies, which, though not consistent with syntactical propriety, may be justly called by the softer name of “inaccuracies.”

[140] See Canon I., p. 229.

[141] We perceive intuitively the error of Milton, when he calls Adam “the comeliest of men since born,” Eve also “the fairest of her daughters,” and we laugh, perhaps, when the Cork almanack-maker gravely tells us, “that the principal republics in Europe, are Venice, Holland, and America;” yet the error here reprehended is precisely of the same species, though it passes frequently unnoticed. See p. 74.

[142] It has been already offered as the opinion of the writer, (see p. 47,) that the English word other is the Saxon oðeꞃ, and that this word with the Arabic ahd, the Hebrew had or ahad, the Saxon oððe, the Teutonic odo, the Swedish udda, and probably the Latin aut, have all sprung from the same source, or that one of these is the parent of the rest, denoting unus or singulus, “one,” or “one by itself.” Of the origin of the Saxon other, Lye has hazarded no opinion. It appears to me to be a comparative from oððe. To those who have carefully examined, and have approved the theory of Mr. Tooke, it will furnish no valid objection against this opinion, that the word oððe is uniformly found in Saxon, signifying aut. Such can have little or no difficulty in perceiving, not only from the similarity of the elements, but from the affinity in point of sense, that had, ahd, aut, oððe, oðeꞃ, other, or, are all members of one and the same family.

[143] In French the article and the adjectives admitting a plural termination, the expression “les uns et les autres” joined to a plural verb is in perfect consistence with analogy. So also, in Latin, are utrique and alteri, referring to a plurality. But unus was never in this sense used as a plural.

[144] “Utrumque fecisse, dicimus, si et hic et ille fecerit divisim; ambos fecisse dicimus, si duo conjunctim aliquid fecerint.”—Stephan. This distinction, however, as the learned critic acknowledges, is not uniformly observed.

[145] “The truth is, that as is also an article; and however and whenever used in English, means the same as it, or that, or which. In the German, where it still evidently retains its original signification and use, (as so also does,) it is written es.”—Tooke’s Diversions.

[146] The error here involved suggests a few observations, which it may be useful to offer, concerning the distinctive character of active and neuter verbs. A neuter verb has been defined to be that, which denotes neither doing nor suffering. An active verb, as its name imports, denotes, that the subject is doing something. Johnson, however, in his Dictionary, gives every active verb the designation of neuter, unless followed by an objective case, that is, unless the object or subject of the action be expressed. In the following instances, for example, he considers the verbs as neuter. “’T is sure, that Henry reads;” “so I drank; and she made the camels drink also;” “if you plant where savages are;” “the priests teach for hire;” “nor feel him where he struck;” “they that sow in tears, shall reap in joy.” These are a few out of numberless examples, which might be produced. Indeed, Johnson’s idea seems to be, as has been just now observed, that the verb must be regarded as neuter, unless followed by an objective case. This is certainly a great inaccuracy, and tends to introduce perplexity and confusion. The verb surely does not the less denote action, because it expresses it absolutely, or because the subject acted upon is not particularly specified. In the examples now quoted, can it be questioned, when we say he struck, that he was active; or when we say, they that sow shall reap, will it be affirmed that they are not active? This would be to confound distinctions not merely acknowledged in theory, and adopted in definition, but also founded in the very nature of things. This matter, I conceive, may be shortly explained, and very easily understood. It is admitted by every grammarian, that an active verb denotes, that the subject is acting, and that a neuter verb signifies that the subject is neither doing nor suffering. Now, of active verbs there are two kinds, transitive and intransitive. The latter is that which denotes immanent action, or that which does not pass from the agent to anything else, as, I walk, I run. Transitive verbs are such as denote that the action passes from the agent to something acted upon, as, “Hector wounded him,” “Cain slew his brother.” But the subject to which the energy passes, may not always be expressed; the verb, however, is not the less active. Whether we say, “the drummer beats his drum,” or “the drummer beats every day,” it surely will not be contended, that there is less of action implied in the one case than in the other. The reader, then, is requested to observe, that it is not necessary to the active transitive verb, that the subject acted upon should be expressed. The active verb may predicate of its subject merely the action generally and absolutely, as, “he reads in the morning, and writes in the evening;” or with the action may be expressed the subject or object, as, “he reads Homer in the morning, and writes letters in the evening;” or the object or subject may be implied, and not expressed, as, “the drummer beats at night,” namely, his drum. But in all these cases the verb is equally active.

[147] In justice to this respectable sect, it is incumbent on me to observe, that the Quakers are not Deists, nor does their religious creed approach to Deism.

[148] A similar ambiguity sometimes occurs in Latin by the indiscriminate use of quod. This may be prevented by employing quoniam when the succeeding member of the sentence expresses the cause of the preceding subject. Thus, “Nec consilium eo minus erat firmum, quoniam secretum cum perpaucis adhuc erat communicatum,” where the eo refers to a preceding circumstance. “Nec consilium eo minus erat firmum, quod” where the eo refers to the subsequent clause. The former phraseology affirms, the latter denies, the influence of the circumstance subjoined.

[149] In our penal statutes, which should be precisely worded, because they are literally interpreted, much ambiguity frequently arises from the loose and incorrect manner in which this conjunction is used.

[150] The issue of a question, respecting a contested election at Rochester in 1820, depended on the construction of this designation, “a peer, or lord of parliament.”

[151] The superior ductility of the Greek, above every other language, must appear from its singular aptitude to form new words by composition or derivation, so as immediately to communicate any new idea. Hence the names of most of our modern discoveries and inventions are of Greek extraction. Thus we have the terms “microscope,” “telegraph,” “panorama,” “odometer,” and many others.

[152]

“Cui lecta potenter erit res,

Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucidus ordo.

Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur.”

Hor. de Art. Poet.

	INTRODUCTION.
		PAGE
Of Language in general, and the English Alphabet		1
	———

	PART I.
Of Etymology		12
	CHAPTER I.
Of the Noun		16
	CHAPTER II.
Of the Article		38
	CHAPTER III.
Of the Pronoun		50
	CHAPTER IV.
Of the Adjective		64
	CHAPTER V.
Of the Verb		77
	CHAPTER VI.
Of the Participle		102
	CHAPTER VII.
Of Adverbs		142
[viii]	CHAPTER VIII.
Of Prepositions		145
	CHAPTER IX.
Of Conjunctions		153
	CHAPTER X.
Of Interjections		160
	———

	PART II.
Of Syntax		161
	———

	PART III.

	CHAPTER I.
Canons of Criticism		224
	CHAPTER II.
Critical Remarks and Illustrations.
Sect. I.—The Noun		236
Sect. II.—The Adjective		244
Sect. III.—The Pronoun		254
Sect. IV.—The Verb		264
Sect. V.—The Adverb		284
Sect. VI.—The Preposition		290
Sect. VII.—The Conjunction		293

Perfect Mutes.	Sounded, or Imperfect.	Imperfect Consonants.	Perfect.
P	B
			M
		F	V
		tħ	th the
T	D
		S	Z
			R
			L
			N
K	G
		Sh	J French
			ng

With compression.	Without compression.
B	P
G	K
D	T
Z	S
Th	Tħ
V	F
J	Sh

The Labial are	eb, ep, ef, ev.
Dental	ed, et, etħ, eth.
Palatal	eg, ek, el, er, ess, esh, ez, ej.
Nasal	em, en, ing.

	Sing.	Pl.
Lat.	Arcanum	Arcana
Fr.	Beau	Beaux
Lat.	Erratum	Errata
Fr.	Monsieur	Messieurs, Messrs.
Heb.	Cherub	Cherubim
Heb.	Seraph	Seraphim
Lat.	Magus	Magi
Gr.	Phenomenon	Phenomena
Lat.	Stratum	Strata
Gr.	Automaton	Automata
Lat.	Vortex	Vortices
Lat.	Radius	Radii
Lat.	Genus	Genera
Gr.	Crisis	Crises
Gr.	Emphasis	Emphases
Gr.	Hypothesis	Hypotheses
Lat.	Genius	Genii,

Masc.	Fem.
Boy	Girl
Buck	Doe
Bull	Cow
Bullock	Heifer
Boar	Sow
Drake	Duck
Friar	Nun
Gaffer	Gammer
Gander	Goose
Gelding }	Mare
Horse }	Mare
Milter	Spawner
Nephew	Niece
Ram	Ewe
Sloven	Slut
Stag	Hind
Widower	Widow
Wizard	Witch

Masc.	Fem.
Abbot	Abbess
Actor	Actress
Adulterer	Adulteress
Ambassador	Ambassadress
Arbiter	Arbitress
Author[27]	Authoress
Baron	Baroness
Chanter	Chantress
Count	Countess
Deacon	Deaconess
Duke	Duchess
Elector	Electress
Emperor	Empress
Governor	Governess
Heir	Heiress
Hunter	Huntress
Jew	Jewess
Lion	Lioness
Marquis	Marchioness
Master	Mistress
Patron	Patroness
Prince	Princess
Peer	Peeress
Prior	Prioress
Poet	Poetess
Prophet	Prophetess
Shepherd	Shepherdess
Sorcerer	Sorceress
Traitor	Traitress
Tutor	Tutress
Tiger	Tigress
Viscount	Viscountess

Masc.	Fem.
Administrator	Administratrix
Executor	Executrix
Testator	Testatrix
Director	Directrix

First Person, Masc. and Fem.

	Sing.	Plur.
Nom.	I[28]	We
Gen.	Mine	Ours
Obj.	Me	Us.

[52] Second Person, Masc. and Fem.

	Sing.	Plur.
Nom.	Thou[29]	Ye or you
Gen.	Thine	Yours
Obj.	Thee	You.

Third Person.

Masc.
Nom.	He[30]	They
Gen.	His	Theirs
Obj.	Him	Them.
[53] Fem.
	Sing.	Plur.
Nom.	She[31]	They
Gen.	Hers	Theirs
Obj.	Her	Them.

Third Person.

Neuter.
Impersonal.
Nom.	It[32]	They[33]
Gen.	Its	Theirs
Obj.	It	Them.

	Sing. and Plur.	Sing. and Plur.
Nom.	Who[34]	Which
Gen.	Whose	Whose
Obj.	Whom	Which.

Pos.	Comp.	Super.
Good	Better	Best
Bad or Evil	Worse	Worst
Little	Less	Least
Much	More	Most
Many	More	Most
Near	Nearer	Nearest or next
Late	Later	Latest or last.

Indicative Mood.
Present Tense.
Sing.[46]	I am	Thou art	He, she, or it is
Plur.	We are	Ye or you are	They are.

[93] Preterite.
Sing.	I was	Thou wast[47]	He was
Plur.	We were	Ye or you were	They were.

Imperfect Conditional.
Sing.	I were	Thou wert	He were
Plur.	We were	Ye or you were	They were.

Infinitive.
To be.

TO DO.
Indicative Mood.
Present.
Sing.	I do	Thou doest or dost	He doeth, doth or does
Plur.	We do	Ye or you do	They do.

Preterperfect.
Sing.	I did	Thou didst	He, she, or it did[50]
Plur.	We did	Ye or you did	They did.

TO HAVE.
Indicative Mood.
Present.
Sing.	I have	Thou hast	He hath or has
Plur.	We have	Ye or you have	They have.

[97] Preterperfect.
Sing.	I had	Thou hadst	He had
Plur.	We had	Ye or you had	They had.

Liberty is expressed by the verb
MAY.
Indicative Mood.
Present.
Sing.	I may	Thou mayest	He may
Plur.	We may	Ye or you may	They may[51].

Preterperfect.
Sing.	I might	Thou mightest	He might
Plur.	We might	Ye or you might	They might.

Nom.	Obj.
Achilles slew Hector,
Hector slew Achilles,

English	Hi[40]	Wol	Ich
Latin	I	Vol	O
Greek	Ι	Βουλ	Εω.

Present part.	Being
Past part.	Been[49].

Participles.
Present	Doing
Past	Done.

Power or ability is expressed by
CAN.
Indicative Mood.
Present.
Sing.	I can	Thou canst	He can
Plur.	We can	Ye or you can	They can[52].

Preterperfect.
Sing.	I could	Thou couldst	He could
Plur.	We could	Ye or you could	They could.

Indicative Mood.
Present.
Sing.[53]	I shall	Thou shalt	He shall
Plur.	We shall	Ye or you shall	They shall.

[99] Preterperfect.
Sing.	I should	Thou shouldst	He should
Plur.	We should	Ye or you should	They should.

Volition and futurity are expressed by the verb to will.
Present.
Sing.	I will	Thou wilt	He will
Plur.	We will	Ye or you will	They will[54].

Preterperfect.
Sing.	I would	Thou wouldst	He would
Plur.	We would	Ye or you would	They would.

Indicative Present.	Preter.	Part. Perf.
Write	Wrote	Written.

Present Tense.
S.	I write	Thou writest	He writes or writeth
P.	We write	Ye or you write	They write.

Preterperfect.
S.	I wrote	Thou wrotest	He wrote
P.	We wrote	Ye or you wrote	They wrote.

Present Progressive, or continued.
S.	I am writing	Thou art writing	He is writing
P.	We are writing	You are writing	They are writing.

Present Emphatic.
S.	I do write	Thou dost write	He doth or does write
P.	We do write	Ye or you do write	They do write.

Preterite, Indefinite, and Emphatic.
S.	I did write	Thou didst write	He did write
P.	We did write	You did write	They did write.

Preter. Imp. &c. continued.
S.	I was writing	Thou wast writing	He was writing
P.	We were writing	Ye were writing	They were writing.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Etymology and Syntax of the English Language Explained and Illustrated

THE ETYMOLOGY AND SYNTAX OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.

PART I. ETYMOLOGY.

CHAPTER I. OF THE NOUN.

SECTION I.

SECTION II. Of Genders.

SECTION III. Of Cases.

CHAPTER II. OF THE ARTICLE.

CHAPTER III. OF PRONOUNS.

CHAPTER IV. OF THE ADJECTIVE.

CHAPTER V. OF THE VERB.

CHAPTER VI. OF THE PARTICIPLE.

IRREGULAR VERBS.

DEFECTIVE VERBS.

OF IMPERSONAL VERBS.

CHAPTER VII. OF ADVERBS.

CHAPTER VIII. OF PREPOSITIONS.

CHAPTER IX. OF CONJUNCTIONS.

CHAPTER X. OF INTERJECTIONS.

PART II. SYNTAX.

CHAPTER I. OF CONCORD.

PART III.

CHAPTER I. CANONS OF CRITICISM.

CHAPTER II. CRITICAL REMARKS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

SECTION I. THE NOUN.

BARBARISM.

SOLECISM[139].

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION II. THE ADJECTIVE.

BARBARISM.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION III. THE PRONOUN.

BARBARISM.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION IV. THE VERB.

BARBARISM.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION V. THE ADVERB.

BARBARISM.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION VI. THE PREPOSITION.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

SECTION VII. THE CONJUNCTION.

SOLECISM.

IMPROPRIETY.

FOOTNOTES:

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

THE
ETYMOLOGY AND SYNTAX
OF THE
ENGLISH LANGUAGE

PREFACE

TO THE SECOND EDITION.

PREFACE

TO THE THIRD EDITION.

PART I.
ETYMOLOGY.

CHAPTER I.
OF THE NOUN.

SECTION II.
Of Genders.

SECTION III.
Of Cases.

CHAPTER II.
OF THE ARTICLE.

CHAPTER III.
OF PRONOUNS.

CHAPTER IV.
OF THE ADJECTIVE.

CHAPTER V.
OF THE VERB.

CHAPTER VI.
OF THE PARTICIPLE.

CHAPTER VII.
OF ADVERBS.

CHAPTER VIII.
OF PREPOSITIONS.

CHAPTER IX.
OF CONJUNCTIONS.

CHAPTER X.
OF INTERJECTIONS.

PART II.
SYNTAX.

CHAPTER I.
OF CONCORD.

CHAPTER I.
CANONS OF CRITICISM.

CHAPTER II.
CRITICAL REMARKS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

SECTION I.
THE NOUN.

SECTION II.
THE ADJECTIVE.

SECTION III.
THE PRONOUN.

SECTION IV.
THE VERB.

SECTION V.
THE ADVERB.

SECTION VI.
THE PREPOSITION.

SECTION VII.
THE CONJUNCTION.

Preter Imperfect.
Sing.	I have been	Thou hast been	He has been	}	writing.
Plur.	We have been	You have been	They have been	}	writing.

Preter Pluperfect.
Sing.	I had	Thou hadst	He had	}	written.
Plur.	We had	Ye or you had	They had	}	written.

Plusquam Preterite Imperfect.
Sing.	I had been	Thou hadst been	He had been	}	writing.
Plur.	We had been	Ye had been	They had been	}	writing.

Future Indefinite.
Sing.	I shall	Thou shalt	He shall	}	write.
Plur.	We shall	Ye or you shall	They shall	}	write.
OR
Sing.	I will	Thou wilt	He will	}	write.
Plur.	We will	Ye or you will	They will	}	write.

Future Imp. Progressive.
I shall or will be	We shall or will be	}
Thou shalt or wilt be	Ye shall or will be	}	writing.
He shall or will be	They shall or will be	}

Future Perfect.
I shall have	We shall have	}
Thou shalt have	Ye shall have	}	written.
He shall have	They shall have	}

The Present	I write
The Preterite	I wrote
The Future	I shall write.

Its progress.	Its perfection, as
I am writing	I have written
I was writing	I had written
I shall be writing	I shall have written.

First class.	Second.	Third.
I write	I am writing	I have written
I wrote	I was writing	I had written
I shall write	I shall be writing	I shall have written.

I must	Thou must	He must	}	write[66].
We must	Ye must	They must	}	write[66].