CHANGES OF THE LANGUAGE. Was all the place, and hawthorn hegis knet, And middis every herbere might be sene, Growing so faire with branchis here and there, The bewis spred the herbere all about."* 49 The language of Shakspeare, nearly two centuries later, as he wrote it, differed considerably from that in which his plays are now presented to the public. The following is part of the well-known soliloquy, as given in an edition of 1603, and which is said with ten other plays to have been in the possession of Sir Thomas Hanmer, and was accidentally discovered in 1825. The quotation, it is likely, is in the original, ungarbled words of the great dramatist: "Ham. O that this too much grieu'd and sallied flesh Would melt to nothing, or that the vniuersall Globe of heauen would turne al to a Chaos! O God within two moneths; no not two, married, Mine vncle! O! let me not thinke of it, My father's brother: but no more like My father, than I to Hercules. Within two moneths, ere yet the salt of most In her galled eyes, she married: O! God, a beast Such speede. Frailtie, thy name is Woman." But at the end of the fourteenth century the model of the language had doubtless been formed. Many books, now perfectly intelligible, were written before Edward III. * Poetical Remains of James I., Edinburgh, 1783. Half a century before that time may be seen bright indications of advancement. Shortly after the close of the reign of Edward I. the English language had produced one of the earliest accounts of remote regions in Mandeville, the earliest appeal to the people on religious topics in Wickliffe, and the second poet of Europe in Chaucer. The improvement of the native tongue, and its more general use by the learned, opened the way for the popular spread of information. It is manifest that so long as the languages of science and common life were different, there could be no effective advance in national civilisation. Knowledge was a monopoly cultivated by a class whose instrument of exchange was current only among themselves. The community at large were shut out, could neither aid in its diffusion nor participate in its fruits. Hence the field of discovery and improvement, as well as of profit, was circumscribed. Between the intellectual and mechanical there was no communication, no common highway on which they could travel together for mutual benefit. The world of mind and the world of matter were separate and incommunicable jurisdictions. At present are sometimes heard complaints of the undue importance attached to the dead languages in education, but our position is infinitely more favourable than that of our remote ancestors. Pending the period under notice, from the Conquest to the dawn of the Reformation, every pursuit and avocation that had any pretensions to elevation, thought, or sentiment, was inscrutable and inaccessible to the people. The Scriptures were either in their original tongues or translated into Latin only; the mass and other services of the Church were celebrated in the same unknown tongue. The plots of dramatic entertainments were founded on scriptural incidents, and were performed by ecclesiastics in Latin. Law proceedings OBSTACLES TO PROGRESS. 51 were mystified in the same manner, and partly so concontinued in respect of pleadings and processes up to the year 1731. The agricultural treatises, composed during the dark ages, for the instruction of farmers and their servants, were in Latin. Even the accounts of the expenses and profits of farms were kept in the same learned character, or a jargon intended to pass for it, though not remarkable, I believe, for classical purity. Arabic figures not having been introduced, Roman numerals, the Vs and Xs, with which we now only number chapters, were the instruments of notation, and formed the inconvenient symbols used in ciphering, in which accounts were kept, and reckonings in pounds, shillings, and pence cast up. The only surviving rags of these grotesque disguises are in medical prescriptions, and the custom of penning these in dog-Latin rather than plain English would probably be more honoured in the breach than observance. Next to the predominance of Latin, the too exclusive predominance of the priesthood was an obstruction to general civilisation. Their ascendency had certainly a legitimate origin, being founded on superior knowledge and attainments. As the depositaries of the learning of the age, they might justly claim to be its chief directors; entitled to the enjoyment and exercise of its chief honours, offices, and functions; and to be the first ministers of the crown, as well as the physicians, teachers, and defenders of the people. But their empire had become too universal and long-continued. Like the feudal system, their season of most effective usefulness had passed away, and a power too absolute and irresponsible had produced degeneracy. Conscious of an enviable social supremacy, and perhaps of its being beyond existing deserts, they were naturally apprehensive of inquiry and of change. Innovation was not likely to improve their position, but might endanger it. Society, however, had outgrown its leading-strings, had become restless, and was urgent to move forward. The clergy were men of one interest and one book, and so long as these were unquestioned there was no scope for expansion on any side; for the dominion of the priesthood, like that of imperial Rome, was engrossing, ubiquitous, and omnipotent. The jealousy with which they beheld any novelty or new competition for popular favour may be instanced in the hostility evinced by them against the revival of classical literature. From their vast influence, they were long able to impede the advance of knowledge and keep the human mind in a state of passive obedience and non-resistance to their own monopolising jurisdiction. A third obstruction to social advancement that may be mentioned, was the general mistake as to the real nature of knowledge. For upwards of 1000 years after the introduction of Christianity society was absorbed in theological controversies frequently involving dogmas absurd or trivial. Of this nature were the disputes about the commencement of the festival of Easter; about the tonsure or shaven crown of the monks; on the investiture of bishops, whether it pertained to the Prince or the Pope; upon original sin, and the miraculous conception. Coupled with these, were, doubtless, inquiries of a more practical import, but which have mostly up to the present continued to baffle human ingenuity, namely, -researches for the philosopher's stone, for the transmutation of all metals into gold, for the elixir of life to cure all diseases and make man immortal, and the perpetual motion. The squaring of the circle and aerial navigation were the engrossments of a later age. Much talent was wasted in the sophistries and verbiage of the School Philosophy; which, in fact, was no philosophy at all, only a wrangling about words and verbal conceits. For example, the schoolmen would contend, and nations and universities would be divided upon the issue, that two contradictory propositions might be both true, or that a body might be in two places at once. Our great countryman Roger Bacon tried to put the world in a better track, but his endeavours were not immediately successful. This luminary of the thirteenth century recommended his contemporaries to interrogate. nature by actual experiments, in lieu of wasting time. in verbal subtleties and abstract reasonings. "No man," says he, “can be so thoroughly convinced that fire will burn as by actually thrusting his hand into the flames." The laws of nature and the properties of matter were the proper objects of inquiry. This prodigy of his age despised magic, incantations, and other tricks, as criminal impositions on the credulity of the multitude, and affirmed that more surprising works might be performed by the combined powers of art and science than ever were pretended to be performed by magic. "I will now," says he, "mention some of the wonderful works of art and nature in which there is nothing of magic, and which magic could not perform. Instruments may be made by which the largest ships, with only one man guiding them, will be carried with greater velocity than if they were full of sailors. Chariots may be constructed that will move with incredible rapidity, without the help of animals; instruments of flying may be formed in which a man, sitting at his ease, and meditating on any subject, may beat the air with his artificial wings, after the manner of birds; a small instrument may be made to raise or depress the greatest weights; an instrument may be fabricated by which one man may draw a thousand men to him by force and against their wills; as also machines which will enable men to walk at the bottom of seas or |
