diversion in their favour." Upon the war of 1739 he observes generally: "England, from being the umpire, was now become a party in all continental quarrels; and instead of trimming the balance of Europe, lavished away her blood and treasure, in supporting the interest and allies of a puny electorate in the North of Germany."

SECT. VI.

CONCLUSION.

THE whole of the preceding extracts is drawn, as much as possible, from the earliest editions of the respective works: since various circumstances of orthography, capitals, and other minute articles, properly enter into the history of the language, and serve to render the portrait here attempted to be delineated more entire and complete.

It was proposed to draw our specimens from the authors in each successive period who have been most highly and publicly commended. There are other writers who have obtained the suffrage of individuals of great authority and taste, and who may in some respects be superior to the authors here used. But these will probably be allowed by the impartial enquirer, to afford a sufficient basis upon which to rest our inference.

It was remarked in the beginning of the present Essay, that on the whole the construction of the language of our best modern writers, the best wri

ters of the age of George the Third, is closer and neater, more free from laxity of structure, and less subject to occasional incongruities, superfluities, unnaturalness and affectation, than that of their predecessors.

So far is well. But neatness, and a sustained equality of march, are not every thing.

We shall particularly fall into absurdity, and be the enemies of our own improvement, if because we surpass our predecessors in one thing, we neglect and despise them. Infinite instruction is to be derived from their assiduous perusal.

We observed in a former Essay*, that it was perhaps impossible to understand one language, unless we were acquainted with more than one: but that the man who is competent to, and exercised in the comparison of languages, has attained to his proper clevation: language is not his master, but he is the master of language: things hold their just order in his mind, ideas first, and then words: words therefore are used by him as the means of communicating or giving permanence to his sentiments; and the whole magazine of his native tongue is subjected at his feet.

This observation applies with perhaps still greater force to the study of our own language, as it has been written by authors in successive ages.

*Part I, Essay VI.

It is by this sort of comparison of century with century, that we become acquainted with the genius and treasures of our native tongue, and learn the different changes and revolutions that have attended it. It is like the study of the character of an eminent man. If we only see him on high days and collar days, we shall know but little about him. We must observe him in his retirement, in his family, in his familiarities, in his relaxations, in his sports, if we would thoroughly understand him, or (to pursue the parallel in which we are engaged) if we would know all the uses that may be made of him.

It is necessary that he who would write well the English of the present day, should study our elder authors, for this reason also. There are great treasures in our native tongue, of which he will remain in complete ignorance, who is acquainted only with the writings of his contemporaries.

Ut silvæ foliis pronos mutantur in annos ;

Prima cadunt

Multa renascentur quæ jam cecidere.

We should read the authors of a forgotten age, that we may revive combinations and beauties that never ought to have perished. We may gain raciness and strength from, it may be, their rude strength; we may give muscle and force and variety, to what might otherwise run the risk of be

coming too tame or too monotous; we may learn from them copiousness and an occasional exuberance of expression; and we may infuse a freshness and living spirit into what might otherwise wither and fade.

There is no art, the subject of human diligence and industry, more subtle and difficult of acquisition, than that of writing an excellent style. Two things are especially necessary, a flowing eloquence of language, and an exquisite propriety of diction.

It almost impossible that we should write a good style in a language to which we are not natives. To write a good style requires so much minute observation, and is a quality produced by so vast a multitude of slight and evanescent impressions, that it cannot be expected to fall to the lot of a foreigner.

Before we can be masters of this qualification, we must have an accurate notion of the meaning of words, the delicate shades of meaning by which they are diversified, and the various ideas and associations they are calculated to excite: and we must have an extensive acquaintance with their history. Our words must in general be considered as having been expressions of the perceptions of our external senses, before they were expressions of abstraction; and it is incumbent upon us, as much as possible, to bear in our minds the pictures to which they were originally annexed, that

we may judge how far they are decorous in themselves, or congruous with each other. We must not suffer them merely to ring upon our ears, and then be repeated by us like children, without any direct investigation of their force. Nay, after we have become acquainted with this, we have still much to learn. Many words and phrases, neutral or even elegant in themselves, have been debased by an application to trivial or ignoble objects. On this account, a phrase will sometimes impress a foreigner with dignified sensations, which to a native shall appear altogether ludicrous and contemptible. In this respect we are very imperfect judges of the writings of the ancients, as we have scarcely any acquaintance with their familiar conversation.

When our choice of words is determined, we have next to combine our words into phrases, and our phrases into periods. Here the idiom of the language in which we write must be accurately understood, and for the most part rigidly adhered to. It is probably of little consequence whether the idiom of the English language, for instance, be Gallic or Teutonic, whether it come from the East or the West. But it must have an idiom; it must be, to a considerable degree, uniform and consentaneous to itself. Those Gallic modes of speaking, which have been introduced by our best writers, ought not probably to be rejected, merely because they are Gallic. Even new and unauthor