Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture IX — Structure of Language — English Tongue
Of the whole class of words that are called attributive, indeed, of all the parts of speech, the most complex, by far, is the verb. It is chiefly in this part of speech, that the subtile and profound metaphysic of language appears; and, therefore, in examining the nature and different variations of the verb, there might be room for ample discussion. But as I am sensible that such grammatical discussions, when they are pursued far, become intricate and obscure, I shall avoid dwelling any longer on this subject than seems absolutely necessary.
The verb is so far of the same nature with the adjective, that it expresses, like it, an attribute, or property, of some person or thing. But it does more than this. For, in all verbs, in every language, there are no less than three things implied at once; the attribute of some substantive, an affirmation concerning that attribute, and time. Thus, when I say, ‘the sun shineth;’ shining is the attribute ascribed to the sun: the present time is marked; and an affirmation is included, that this property of shining belongs, at that time, to the sun. The participle ‘shining’ is merely an adjective, which denotes an attribute or property, and also expresses time, but carries no affirmation. The infinitive mood, ‘to shine’ may be called the name of the verb; it carries neither time nor affirmation; but simply expresses that attribute, action, or state of things, which is to be the subject of the other moods and tenses. Hence the infinitive often carries the resemblance of a substantive noun; and both in English and Latin, is sometimes constructed as such. As, ‘scire tuum nihil est.’ ‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.’ And, in English, in the same manner: ‘To write well is difficult; to speak eloquently is still more difficult.’ But as, through all the other tenses and moods, the affirmation runs, and is essential to them; ‘the sun shineth, was shining, shone, will shine, would have shone’ &c. the affirmation seems to be, that which chiefly distinguishes the verb from the other parts of speech, and gives it its most conspicuous power. Hence there can be no sentence, or complete proposition, without a verb either expressed or implied. For, whenever we speak, we always mean to assert, that something is, or is not; and the word which carries this assertion, or affirmation, is a verb. From this sort of eminence belonging to it, this part of speech hath received its name, verb, from the Latin verbum, or the word, by way of distinction.
Verbs, therefore, from their importance and necessity in speech must have been coeval with men’s first attempts towards the formation of language; though, indeed, it must have been the work of long time, to rear them up to that accurate and complex structure which they now possess. It seems very probable, as Dr. Smith has suggested, that the radical verb, or the first form of it, in most languages, would be, what we now call the impersonal verb. ‘It rains, it thunders; it is light; it is agreeable,’ and the like; as this is the very simplest form of the verb, and merely affirms the existence of an event, or of a state of things. By degrees, after pronouns were invented, such verbs became personal, and were branched out into all the variety of tenses and moods.
The tenses of the verb are contrived to imply the several distinctions of time. Of these I must take some notice, in order to show the admirable accuracy with which language is constructed. We think commonly of no more than the three great divisions of time, into the past, the present, and the future; and we might imagine, that if verbs had been so contrived, as simply to express these, no more was needful. But language proceeds with much greater subtilty. It splits time into its several moments. It considers time as never standing still, but always flowing; things past, as more or less perfectly completed; and things future, as more or less remote, by different gradations. Hence the great variety of tenses in most tongues.
The present may, indeed, be always considered as one indivisible point, susceptible of no variety. “ I write, or, I am writing; scribo” But it is not so with the past. There is no language so poor, but it hath two or three tenses to express the varieties of it. Ours hath no fewer than four. 1. A past action may be considered as left unfinished; which makes the imperfect tense, “I was writing, scribebam ” 2. As just now finished. This makes the proper perfect tense, which, in English, is always expressed by the help of the auxiliary verb, “I have written.” 3. It may be considered as finished some time ago; the particular time left indefinite. “ I wrote, scripsi;” which may either signify, “ I wrote yesterday, or, I wrote a twelvemonth ago.” This is what grammarians call an aorist, or indefinite past. 4. It may be considered as finished before something else, which is also past. This is the plusquamperfect. “I had written; scripseram. I had written before I received his letter.”
Here we observe with some pleasure, that we have an advantage over the Latins, who have only three varieties upon the past time. They have no proper perfect tense, or one which distinguishes an action just now finished, from an action that was finished some time ago. In both these cases they must say, “scripsi.” Though there be a manifest difference in the tenses, which our language expresses, by this variation, “I have written,” meaning, I have just now finished writing; and, “I wrote,” meaning at some former time, since which, other things have intervened. This difference the Romans have no tense to express; and, therefore, can only do it by a circumlocution.
The chief varieties in the future time are two; a simple or indefinite future; ‘I shall write; scribam;’ and a future, relating to something else, which is also future. ‘ I shall have written; scripsero.’ I shall have written before he arrives.’
Besides tenses, or the power of expressing times, verbs admit the distinction of voices, as they are called, the active and the passive; according as the affirmation respects something that is done, or something that is suffered; ‘I love, or I am loved.’ They admit, also, the distinction of moods, which are designed to express the affirmation, whether active or passive, under different forms. The indicative mood, for instance, simply declares a proposition, ‘I write; I have written;’ the imperative requires, commands, threatens, ‘write thou; let him write.’ The subjunctive expresses the proposition
* On the tenses of the verbs, Mr. Harris’s Hermes may be consulted, by such as desire to see them scrutinized with metaphysical accuracy; and also the Treatise on the Origin and Progress of Language, vol. ii. p. 125.
under the form of a condition, or in subordination to some other thing, to which a reference is made, ‘I might write, I could write, I should write, if the case were so and so.’ This manner of expressing an affirmation, under so many different forms, together also with the distinction of the three persons, /, thou, and he, constitutes what is called the conjugation of verbs, which makes so great a part of the grammar of all languages.
It now clearly appears, as I before observed, that, of all the parts of speech, verbs are, by far, the most artificial and complex. Consider only, how many things are denoted by this single Latin word ‘amavissem, I would have loved.’ First, The person who speaks, ‘I.’ Secondly, An attribute or action of that person, ‘loving.’ Thirdly, An affirmation concerning that action. Fourthly, The past time denoted in that affirmation, ‘have loved;’ and, Fifthly, A condition, on which the action is suspended, ‘would have loved.’ It appears curious and remarkable, that words of this complex import, and with more or less of this artificial structure, are to be found, as far as we know, in all languages of the world.
Indeed, the form of conjugation, or the manner of expressing all these varieties in the verb, differs greatly in different tongues. Conjugation is esteemed most perfect in those languages which, by varying either the termination or the initial syllable of the verb, express the greatest number of important circumstances, without the help of auxiliary words. In the oriental tongues, the verbs are said to have few tenses, or expressions of time; but then their modes are so contrived as to express a great variety of circumstances and relations. In the Hebrew, for instance, they say, in one word, without the help of any auxiliary, not only ‘I have taught,’ but, ‘I have taught exactly, or often; I have been commanded to teach; I have taught myself.’ The Greek, which is the most perfect of all the known tongues, is very regular and complete in all the tenses and moods. The Latin is formed on the same model, but more imperfect; especially in the passive voice, which forms most of the tenses by the help of the auxiliary ‘sum.’
In all the modern European tongues, conjugation is very defective. They admit few varieties in the termination of the verb itself; but have almost constant recourse to their auxiliary verbs, throughout all the moods and tenses, both active and passive. Language has undergone a change in conjugation, perfectly similar to that which I showed in the last lecture, it underwent with respect to declension. As prepositions, prefixed to the noun, superseded the use of cases; so the two great auxiliary verbs, to have, and to be, with those other auxiliaries which we use in English, do, shall, will, may, and can, prefixed to the participle, supersede, in a great measure, the different terminations of moods and tenses, which formed the ancient conjugations.
The alteration, in both cases, was owing to the same cause, and will be easily understood, from reflecting on what was formerly observed. The auxiliary verbs are, like prepositions, words of a very general and abstract nature. They imply the different modifications of simple existence, considered alone, and without reference to any particular thing. In the early state of speech, the import of them would be incorporated, with every particular verb in its tenses and moods, long before words were invented for denoting such abstract conceptions of existence, alone, and by themselves. But after those auxiliary verbs came, in the progress of language, to be invented and known, and to have tenses and moods given to them like other verbs; it was found, that as they carried in their nature the force of that affirmation which distinguishes the verb, they might, joined with the participle which gives the meaning of the verb, supply the place of most of the moods and tenses. Hence, as the modern tongues began to rise out of the ruins of the ancient, this method established itself in the new formation of speech. Such words, for instance, as am, was, have, shall, being once familiar, it appeared more easy to apply these to any verb whatever; as, I am loved; I was loved; I have loved; than to remember that variety of terminations which were requisite in conjugating the ancient verbs, amor, amabar, amavi, &c. Two or three varieties only in the termination of the verb, were retained, as, love, loved, loving; and all the rest were dropt. The consequence, however, of this practice, was the same as that of abolishing declensions. It rendered language more simple and easy in its structure; but withal, more prolix, and less graceful. This finishes all that seemed most necessary to be observed with respect to verbs.
The remaining parts of speech, which are called the indeclinable parts, or that admit of no variations, will not detain us long.
Adverbs are the first that occur. These form a very numerous class of words in every language, reducible, in general, to the head of attributives; as they serve to modify, or to denote some circumstance of an action or of a quality, relative to its time, place, order, degree, and the other properties of it, which we have occasion to specify. They are, for the most part, no more than an abridged mode of speech, expressing, by one word, what might, by a circumlocution, be resolved into two or more words belonging to the other parts of speech. ‘ Exceedingly,’ for instance, is the same as, ‘in a high degree;’ ‘bravely,’ the same as, ‘with bravery or valour;’ ‘here,’ the same as, ‘in this place;’ ‘often, and seldom,’ the same as, ‘for many and for few times,’ and so of the rest. Hence, adverbs may be conceived as of less necessity, and of later introduction into the system of speech, than many other classes of words; and accordingly, the great body of them are derived from other words formerly established in the language.
Prepositions and conjunctions, are words more essential to discourse than the greatest part of adverbs. They form that class of words, called connectives, without which there could be no language; serving to express the relations which things bear to one another, their mutual influence, dependencies, and coherence; thereby joining words together into intelligible and significant propositions. Conjunctions are generally employed for connecting sentences, or members of sentences; as, and, because, although, and the like. Prepositions are employed for connecting words by showing the relation which one substantive noun bears to another; as, of, from, to, above, below, &c. Of the force of these I had occasion to speak before, when treating of the cases and declensions of substantive nouns.
It is abundantly evident, that all these connective particles must be of the greatest use in speech; seeing they point out the relations and transitions by which the mind passes from one idea to another. They are the foundation of all reasoning, which is no other thing than the connexion of thoughts. And, therefore, though among barbarous nations, and in the rude uncivilized ages of the world, the stock of these words might be small, it must always have increased, as mankind advanced in the arts of reasoning and reflection. The more that any nation is improved by science, and the more perfect their language becomes, we may naturally expect that it will abound more with connective particles; expressing relations of things, and transitions of thought, which had escaped a grosser view. Accordingly, no tongue is so full of them as the Greek, in consequence of the acute and subtile genius of that refined people. In every language, much of the beauty and strength of it depends on the proper use of conjunctions, prepositions, and those relative pronouns, which also serve the same purpose of connecting the different parts of discourse. It is the right, or wrong management of these, which chiefly makes discourse appear firm and compacted, or disjointed and loose; which carries it on its progress with a smooth and even pace, or renders its march irregular and desultory.
I shall dwell no longer on the general construction of language. Allow me, only, before I dismiss the subject, to observe, that dry and intricate as it may seem to some, it is, however, of great importance, and very nearly connected with the philosophy of the human mind. For, if speech be the vehicle, or interpreter of the conceptions of our minds, an examination of its structure and progress cannot but unfold many things concerning the nature and progress of our conceptions themselves, and the operations of our faculties; a subject that is always instructive to man. ‘Nequis,’ says Quintilian, an author of excellent judgment, ‘nequis tanquam parva fastidiat grammatices elementa. Non quia magnae sit operae consonantes a vocalibus discernere, easque in semivocalium numerum, mutarumque partiri, sed quia interiora velut sacri hujus adeuntibus, apparebit multa rerum subtilitas, quae non modo acuere ingenia puerilia, sed exercere altissimam quoque eruditionem ac scientiam possit.’* i. 4.
Let us now come nearer to our own language. In this, and the preceding lecture, some observations have already been made on its
* “ Let no man despise, as inconsiderable, the elements of grammar, because it may seem to him a matter of small consequence, to show the distinction between vowels and consonants, and to divide the latter into liquids and mutes. But they who penetrate into the innermost parts of this temple of science, will there discover such refinement and subtilty of matter, as is not only proper to sharpen the understandings of young men, but sufficient to give exercise for the most profound knowledge and erudition.” structure. But it is proper that we should be a little more particular in the examination of it.
The language which is, at present, spoken throughout Great Britain, is neither the ancient primitive speech of the island, nor derived from it; but is altogether of foreign origin. The language of the first inhabitants of our island, beyond doubt, was the Celtic, or Gaelic, common to them with Gaul; from which country it appears, by many circumstances, that Great Britain was peopled. This Celtic tongue, which is said to be very expressive and copious, and is, probably, one of the most ancient languages in the world, obtained once in most of the western regions of Europe. It was the language of Gaul, of Great Britain, of Ireland, and, very probably, of Spain also; till, in the course of those revolutions which, by means of the conquests, first, of the Romans, and afterwards, of the northern nations, changed the government, speech, and, in a manner, the whole face of Europe, this tongue was gradually obliterated; and now subsists only in the mountains of Wales, in the Highlands of Scotland, and among the wild Irish. For the Irish, the Welch, and the Erse, are no other than different dialects of the same tongue, the ancient Celtic.
This, then, was the language of the primitive Britons, the first inhabitants that we know of in our island; and continued so till the arrival of the Saxons in England, in the year of our Lord 450; who, having conquered the Britons, did not intermix with them, but expelled them from their habitations, and drove them, together with their language, into the mountains of Wales. The Saxons were one of those northern nations that overran Europe; and their tongue, a dialect of the Gothic or Teutonic, altogether distinct from the Celtic, laid the foundation of the present English tongue. With some intermixture of Danish, a language, probably, from the same root with the Saxon, it continued to be spoken throughout the southern part of the island, till the time of William the Conqueror. He introduced his Norman, or French, as the language of the court, which made a considerable change in the speech of the nation; and the English which was spoken afterwards, and continues to be spoken now, is a mixture of the ancient Saxon, and this Norman French, together with such new and foreign words as commerce and learning have, in progress of time, gradually introduced.
The history of the English language can, in this manner, be clearly traced. The language spoken in the Low Countries of Scotland, is now, and has been for many centuries, no other than a dialect of the English. How, indeed, or by what steps, the ancient Celtic tongue came to be banished from the Low Country in Scotland, and to make its retreat into the Highlands and islands, cannot be so well pointed out, as how the like revolution was brought about in England. Whether the southernmost part of Scotland was once subject to the Saxons, and formed a part of the kingdom of Northumberland; or whether the great number of English exiles that retreated into Scotland, upon the Norman conquest, and upon other occasions, introduced into that country their own language, which afterwards, by the mutual intercourse of the two nations, prevailed over the Celtic, are uncertain and contested points, the discussion of which would lead us too far from our subject.
From what has been said, it appears that the Teutonic dialect is the basis of our present speech. It has been imported among us in three different forms, the Saxon, the Danish, and the Norman; all which have mingled together in our language. A very great number of our words, too, are plainly derived from the Latin. These we had not directly from the Latin, but most of them, it is probable, entered into our tongue, through the channel of that Norman French, which William the Conqueror introduced. For, as the Romans had long been in full possession of Gaul, the language spoken in that country, when it was invaded by the Franks and Normans, was a sort of corrupted Latin, mingled with Celtic, to which was given the name of Romanshe: and as the Franks and Normans did not, like the Saxons in England, expel the inhabitants, but, after their victories, mingled with them; the language of the country became a compound of the Teutonic dialect imported by these conquerors, and of the former corrupted Latin. Hence, the French language has always continued to have a very considerable affinity with the Latin; and hence, a great number of words of Latin origin, which were in use among the Normans in France, were introduced into our tongue at the conquest; to which, indeed, many have since been added, directly from the Latin, in consequence of the great diffusion of Roman literature throughout all Europe.
From the influx of so many streams, from the junction of so many dissimilar parts, it naturally follows, that the English, like every compounded language, must needs be somewhat irregular. We cannot expect from it that correspondence of parts, that complete analogy in structure, which may be found in those simpler languages, which have been formed in a manner within themselves, and built on one foundation. Hence, as I before showed, it has but small remains of conjugation or declension; and its syntax is narrow as there are few marks in the words themselves, that can show their relation to each other, or, in the grammatical style, point out either their concordance, or their government in the sentence. Our words having been brought to us from several different regions, straggle, if we may so speak, asunder from each other; and do not coalesce so naturally in the structure of a sentence, as the words in the Greek and Roman tongues.
But these disadvantages, if they be such, of a compound language, are balanced by other advantages that attend it; particularly, by the number and variety of words with which such a language is likely to be enriched. Few languages are, in fact, more copious than the English. In all grave subjects especially, historical, critical, political, and moral, no writer has the least reason to complain of the barrenness of our tongue. The studious reflecting genius of the people, has brought together great store of expressions, on such subjects, from every quarter. We are rich too in the language of poetry. Our poetical style differs widely from prose, not in point of numbers only, but in the very words themselves; which shows what a stock and compass of words we have it in our power to select and employ, suited to those different occasions. Herein we are infinitely superior to the French, whose poetical language, if it were not distinguished by rhyme, would not be known to differ from their ordinary prose.
It is chiefly, indeed, on grave subjects, and with respect to the stronger emotions of the mind, that our language displays its power of expression. We are said to have thirty words, at least, for denoting all the varieties of the passion of anger.* But, in describing the more delicate sentiments and emotions, our tongue is not so fertile. It must be confessed, that the French language far surpasses ours, in expressing the nicer shades of character; especially those varieties of manner, temper, and behaviour, which are displayed in our social intercourse with one another. Let any one attempt to translate into English, only a few pages of one of Marivaux’s novels, and he will soon be sensible of our deficiency of expression on these subjects. Indeed, no language is so copious as the French for whatever is delicate, gay, and amusing. It is, perhaps, the happiest language for conversation, in the known world; but on the higher subjects of composition, the English may be justly esteemed to excel it considerably.
Language is generally understood to receive its predominant tincture from the national character of the people who speak it. We must not, indeed, expect that it will carry an exact and full impression of their genius and manners; for among all nations, the original stock of words which they received from their ancestors, remain as the foundation of their speech throughout many ages, while their manners undergo, perhaps, very great alterations. National character will, however, always have some perceptible influence on the turn of language; and the gayety and vivacity of the French, and the gravity and thoughtfulness of the English, are sufficiently impressed on their respective tongues.
From the genius of our language, and the character of those who speak it, it may be expected to have strength and energy. It is, indeed, naturally prolix, owing to the great number of particles and auxiliary verbs which we are obliged constantly to employ; and this prolixity must, in some degree, enfeeble it. We seldom can express so much by one word as was done by the verbs, and by the nouns, in the Greek and Roman languages. Our style is less compact; our conceptions being spread out among more words, and split, as it were, into more parts, make a fainter impression when we alter them. Notwithstanding this defect, by our abounding in terms for expressing all the strong emotions of the mind, and by the liberty which we enjoy, in a greater degree than most nations, of compounding words, our language may be esteemed to possess consider-
* Anger, wrath, passion, rage, fury, outrage, fierceness, sharpness, animosity, choler, resentment, heat, heart-burning; to fume, storm, inflame, be incensed, to vex, kindle, irritate, enrage, exasperate, provoke, fret; to be sullen, hasty, hot, rough, sour, peevish &c. Preface to Greenwood’s Grammar.
able force of expression; comparatively, at least, with the other modern tongues, though much below the ancient. The style of Milton alone, both in poetry and prose, is a sufficient proof, that the English tongue is far from being destitute of nerves and energy.
The flexibility of a language, or its power of accommodation to different styles and manners, so as to be either grave and strong, or easy and flowing, or tender and gentle, or pompous and magnificent as occasions require, or as an author’s genius prompts, is a quality of great importance in speaking and writing. It seems to depend upon three things; the copiousness of a language; the different arrangements of which its words are susceptible; and the variety and beauty of the sound of those words, so as to correspond to many different subjects. Never did any tongue possess this quality so eminently as the Greek, which every writer of genius could so mould, as to make the style perfectly expressive of his own manner and peculiar turn. It had all the three requisites, which I have mentioned as necessary for this purpose. It joined to these the graceful variety of its different dialects; and thereby readily assumed every sort of character which an author could wish, from the most simple and most familiar, up to the most majestic. The Latin, though a very beautiful language, is inferior, in this respect, to the Greek. It has more of a fixed character of stateliness and gravity. It is always firm and masculine in the tenour of its sound; and is supported by a certain senatorial dignity, of which it is difficult for a writer to divest it wholly, on any occasion. Among the modern tongues, the Italian possesses a great deal more of this flexibility than the French. By its copiousness, its freedom of arrangement, and the great beauty and harmony of its sounds, it suits itself very happily to most subjects, either in prose or in poetry; is capable of the august and the strong as well as the tender; and seems to be, on the whole, the most perfect of all the modern dialects which have arisen out of the ruins of the ancient. Our own language, though not equal to the Italian in flexibility, yet is not destitute of a considerable degree of this quality. If any one will consider the diversity of style which appears in some of our classics, that great difference of manner, for instance, which is marked by the style of Lord Shaftesbury, and that of Dean Swift, he will see, in our tongue, such a circle of expression, such a power of accommodation to the different taste of writers, as redounds not a little to its honour.
What the English has been most taxed with, is its deficiency in harmony of sound. But though every native is apt to be partial to the sounds of his own language, and may, therefore, be suspected of not being a fair judge in this point; yet, I imagine, there are evident grounds on which it may be shown, that this charge against our tongue has been carried too far. The melody of our versification, its power of supporting poetical numbers without any assistance from rhyme, is alone a sufficient proof that our language is far from being unmusical. Our verse is, after the Italian, the most diversified and harmonious of any of the modern dialects; unquestionably far beyond the French verse, in variety, sweetness, and melody.
Sheridan has shown, in his lectures, that we abound more in vowel and diphthong sounds, than most languages; and these too, so divided into long and short, as to afford a proper diversity in the quantity of our syllables. Our consonants, he observes, which appear so crowded to the eye on paper, often form combinations, not disagreeable to the ear in pronouncing; and, in particular, the objection which has been made to the frequent recurrence of the hissing consonant s in our language, is unjust and ill-founded. For, it has not been attended to, that very commonly, and in the final syllables especially, this letter loses altogether the hissing sound, and is transformed into a z, which is one of the sounds on which the ear rests with pleasure; as in has, these, those, loves, hears, and innumerable more, where, though the letter s be retained in writing, it has really the power of z, not of the common s.
After all, however, it must be admitted, that smoothness, or beauty of sound, is not one of the distinguishing properties of the English tongue. Though not incapable of being formed into melodious arrangements, yet strength and expressiveness, more than grace, form its character. We incline, in general, to a short pronunciation of our words, and have shortened the quantity of most of those which we borrow from the Latin, as orator, spectacle, theatre, liberty, and such like. Agreeable to this, is a remarkable peculiarity of English pronunciation, the throwing the accent farther back, that is, nearer the beginning of the word than is done by any other nation. In Greek and Latin, no word is accented farther back than the third syllable from the end, or what is called the antepenult. But, in English, we have many words accented on the fourth, some on the fifth syllable from the end, as, memorable, conveniency, ambulatory, profitableness. The general effect of this practice of hastening the accent, or placing it so near the beginning of a word, is to give a brisk and a spirited, but at the same time, a rapid and hurried, and not very musical, tone to the whole pronunciation of a people.
The English tongue possesses, undoubtedly, this property, that it is the most simple in its form and construction, of all the European dialects. It is free from all intricacy of cases, declensions, moods, and tenses. Its words are subject to fewer variations from their original form than those of any other language. Its substantives have no distinction of gender, except what nature has made, and but one variation in case. Its adjectives admit of no change at all, except what expresses the degree of comparison. Its verbs, instead of running through all the varieties of ancient conjugation, suffer no more than four or five changes in termination. By the help of a few prepositions and auxiliary verbs, all the purposes of significancy in meaning are accomplished; while the words, for the most part, preserve their form unchanged. The disadvantages in point of elegance, brevity, and force, which follow from this structure of our language, I have before pointed out. But, at the same time, it must be admitted, that such a structure contributes to facility. It renders the acquisition of our language less laborious, the arrangement of our words more plain and obvious, the rules of our syntax fewer and more simple.
I agree, indeed, with Dr. Lowth, (Preface to his grammar) in thinking, that the simplicity and facility of our language occasion its being frequently written and spoken with less accuracy. It was necessary to study languages which were of a more complex and artificial form, with greater care. The marks of gender and case, the varieties of conjugation and declension, the multiplied rules of syntax, were all to be attended to in speech. Hence language became more an object of art. It was reduced into form; a standard was established; and any departures from the standard became conspicuous. Whereas, among us, language is hardly considered as an object of grammatical rule. We take it for granted, that a competent skill in it may be acquired without any study: and that in a syntax so narrow and confined as ours, there is nothing which demands attention. Hence arises the habit of writing in a loose and inaccurate manner.
I admit, that no grammatical rules have sufficient authority to control the firm and established usage of language. Established custom in speaking and writing, is the standard to which we must at last resort for determining every controverted point in language and style. But it will not follow from this, that grammatical rules are superseded as useless. In every language, which has been in any degree cultivated, there prevails a certain structure and analogy of parts, which is understood to give foundation to the most reputable usage of speech; and which, in all cases, when usage is loose or dubious, possesses considerable authority. In every language, there are rules of syntax which must be inviolably observed by all who would either write or speak with any propriety. For syntax is no other than that arrangement of words, in a sentence, which renders the meaning of each word, and the relation of all the words to one another, most clear and intelligible.
All the rules of Latin syntax, it is true, cannot be applied to our language. Many of these rules arose from the particular form of their language, which occasioned verbs or prepositions to govern, some the genitive, some the dative, some the accusative or ablative case. But, abstracting from these peculiarities, it is to be always remembered, that the chief and fundamental rules of syntax are common to the English as well as the Latin tongue; and, indeed, belong equally to all languages. For in all languages, the parts which compose speech are essentially the same; substantives, adjectives, verbs, and connecting particles: and wherever these parts of speech are found, there are certain necessary relations among them, which regulate their syntax, or the place which they ought to possess in a sentence. Thus, in English, just as much as in Latin, the adjective must be made to agree with its substantive; and the verb must agree with its nominative in person and number; because, from the nature of things, a word, which expresses either a quality or an action, must correspond as closely as possible with the name of that thing whose quality, or whose action, it expresses. Two or more substantives, joined by a copulative, must always require the verbs or pronouns, to which they refer, to be placed in the plural number; otherwise, their common relation to these verbs or pronouns is not pointed out. An active verb must, in every language, govern the accusative; that is, clearly point out some substantive noun, as the object to which its action is directed. A relative pronoun must, in every form of speech, agree with its antecedent in gender, number, and person; and conjunctions, or connecting particles, ought always to couple like cases and moods; that is, ought to join together words which are of the same form and state with each other. I mention these, as a few exemplifications of that fundamental regard to syntax, which, even in such a language as ours, is absolutely requisite for writing or speaking with any propriety.
Whatever the advantages or defects of the English language be, as it is our own language, it deserves a high degree of our study and attention, both with regard to the choice of words which we employ, and with regard to the syntax, or the arrangement of these words in a sentence. We know how much the Greeks and Romans, in their most polished and flourishing times, cultivated their own tongues. We know how much study both the French, and the Italians, have bestowed upon theirs. Whatever knowledge may be acquired by the study of other languages, it can never be communicated with advantage, unless by such as can write and speak their own language well. Let the matter of an author be ever so good and useful, his compositions will always suffer in the public esteem, if his expression be deficient in purity and propriety. At the same time, the attainment of a correct and elegant style, is an object which demands application and labour. If any imagine they can catch it merely by the ear, or acquire it by a slight perusal of some of our good authors, they will find themselves much disappointed. The many errors, even in point of grammar, the many offences against purity of language, which are committed by writers who are far from being contemptible, demonstrate, that a careful study of the language is previously requisite, in all who aim at writing it properly.*