to our soil to make foreigners study our tongue as a treasure of
such store. What of that? We are able by its means to apply to our
use all the great treasure both of foreign soil and of foreign
language. And why may not English wits, if they will bend their
wills to seek matter and method, be as much sought after by foreign
students for the increase of their knowledge as our soil is already
sought after by foreign merchants for the increase of their wealth?
As the soil is fertile because it is cultivated, so the wits are
not barren, if they choose to bring forth.
Yet though all this be true, we are in despair of ever seeing our
own language so refined as were those where public orations were
held in ordinary course, and the very tongue itself made a chariot
to honour. Our State is a monarchy, which controls language, and
teaches it to please; our religion is Christian, and prefers the
naked truth to refinement of terms. What then? If for want of
that exercise which the Athenian and the Roman enjoyed in their
spacious courts, no Englishman should prove to be a Cicero or a
Demosthenes, yet in truth he may prove comparable to them in his
own commonwealth and in the eloquence that befits it. And why not
indeed comparable to them in all points that concern his natural
tongue? Our brain can bring forth; our ideas will bear life; our
tongues are not tied, and our labour is our own. And eloquence
itself is limited neither to one language nor to one soil; the
whole world is its measure, and the wise ear is its judge, having
regard not to greatness of state, but to the capacity of the
people. And even though we should despair of altogether rivalling
the excellence of foreign tongues, must our own therefore be
unbeautified? It should certainly strive to reach its best if I
could help. We may aspire to come to a certain height, even though
we can pass no further. The nature of our government will admit
true speaking and writing, and eloquence will be approved if it
gives pleasure and is worthy of praise, so long as it preaches
peace, and tends to preserve the State. Our religion does not
condemn any ornament of language which serves the truth and does
not presume overmuch. Nay, may not eloquence be a great blessing
from God, and the trumpet of his honour, as Chrysostom calls that
of St. Paul, if it be religiously bent? Those who have read the
story of the early church find that eloquence in the primitive
Christians overthrew great forces bent against our faith, and
persuaded numbers to embrace the cause, when the power of truth was
joined to force in the word. We should seek eloquence to serve God,
but shun it to serve ourselves, unless we have God’s warrant.
But will you thus break off communication with learned foreigners
by banishing Latin, and putting her learning into your own tongue?
Communication will not cease while people have cause to interchange
dealings, and it may easily be continued without Latin. Already
in some countries, whose languages are akin to the Latin, the
learned class are weaning their tongues and pens from the use of
Latin, both in written discourse and spoken disputation, to their
own natural speech. It is a question not of disgracing Latin, but
of gracing our own language. Why should we honour a stranger more
than our own, if the purpose be served? And although, on account of
the limitations of our language, no foreigner would seek to borrow
from us as we do from other tongues, because we devise nothing new,
though we receive the old, yet we ourselves gain very much in study
by being set from the first in the privy chambers of knowledge,
through the familiarity of our native speech. Justinian the
emperor said to the students of law, when he gave imperial force
to his Institutes, that they were most happy in the advantage of
hearing the Emperor’s voice at first hand, while those of earlier
times were delayed for four whole years. And does not our study
of foreign languages take us fully four years? If this were the
only hindrance indeed, and if we gained otherwise, we could bear
the loss. But it is not only time that is lost in studying foreign
tongues, though we must use them till we learn to do without them.
Who can deny that we understand best in our natural speech, seeing
that all our foreign learning is applied through the medium of our
own language, and learning is of value only in so far as it is
applied to particular uses?
But why not everything in English, a tongue in itself both deep in
meaning and frank in utterance? I do not think that any language
whatsoever is better able to express all subjects with pith and
plainness, if he who uses it is as skilful and well-instructed as
the foreigner. Methinks I myself could prove this in regard to the
most varied subjects, though I am no great scholar, but only an
earnest well-wisher to my own country. And though in dealing with
certain subjects we must use many foreign terms, we are only doing
what is done in the most renowned languages, that boast of their
skill and knowledge. It is a necessity between one country and
another to interchange words to express strange matter, and rules
are appointed for adapting them to the use of the borrowers. It is
an accident which keeps our tongue from natural growth out of its
own resources, and not the real nature of the language, which could
strain with the strongest and stretch to the furthest, either for
the purposes of government, if we were conquerors, or for learning
if we were its treasurers, no whit behind the subtle Greek for
couching close, or the stately Latin for spreading fair. Our tongue
is capable of all, if our people would bestow pains upon it. The
very soil of Greece, it is noted by some, had a refining influence
on Philelphus, who was born in Italy. Italy, says Erasmus, would
have had the same effect on our Sir Thomas More, if he had been
trained there. And cannot labour and practice work as great wonders
in English wits at home as the air can do abroad? Is a change of
soil the best or the only means of furthering growth? Nay, surely
wits are equally sharp everywhere, though where there is less
intercourse and a heavier climate, the labour must be greater to
make up for what is wanting in nature. If such pains be taken we
may boldly arm ourselves with that two-worded and thrice worthy
question--Why not? But grant that it were an heresy, seeing that
we are trained in foreign tongues, even to wish everything to be
in English. Certainly there is no fault in handling in English
what is proper to England, though the same subject well handled in
Latin would be likely to please Latinists. But an English benefit
must not be measured by the pleasure of a Latinist. It is a matter
not for scholars to play with, but for students to practise, where
everyone can judge. Besides, how many shallow things are often
uttered in Latin and other foreign tongues, which under the bare
veil of a strange form seem to be something, but if they were
expressed in English, and the mask pulled off so that everyone
could see them, would make but a sorry show, and soon be disclaimed
even by those who uttered them, with some thought of the old
saying--“Had I known, I would not!” And were it not better to gain
judgment throughout in our own English than either to lose it or
hinder it in Latin or any other foreign tongue? Such considerations
make me thankful for what we have gained from foreign sources, but
at the same time desirous of furthering the interest of my own
natural tongue, and therefore in treating of the first rudiments
of learning I am very well content to make use of English, without
renouncing my right to use Latin or any other learned tongue, when
I come to speak of matters where it may be suitable.
But while my writing in English may seem not amiss for the service
of my country, my manner of writing may offend some in seeming
fastidious and obscure, and I may be brought to task as failing in
what I professed, by dealing with matters too hard for the ignorant
to understand, or using too close a style and too rare terms for
plain folks to follow. All these difficulties are very great foes
to the perception of the ordinary man, who can understand only so
far as he has been trained, and they are no good friends to my
purpose, as I write for the benefit of the many, who are untrained
and unskilful. But although these objections make a very plausible
show, yet I must beg leave to plead my own cause in regard to
matter, style, and the use of terms. Indeed half my answer is
given when I say that I mean well to my country, for in attempting
difficulties one may claim pardon for defects, and what I do is in
the interest of our tongue, which I desire to see enriched in every
way and honoured with every ornament of eloquence, so that it can
vie with any foreign language.
But first to examine the charge of hardness in the subject-matter,
which the reader is said to have difficulty in understanding. In
what, I pray you, consists this hardness that is said to lie in
the matter? Or rather does not all hardness belong to the person,
and not to the thing, in this case as everywhere else? If the
person who undertakes to teach does not know his subject well
enough to make it properly understood, is the thing therefore
hard that is not thoroughly grasped? Or if the learner either
fails to understand owing to deficient knowledge, or will not
make the needful effort owing to some evil disposition, is the
thing therefore hard which is so crossed by personal infirmity?
Surely not. There is no hardness in anything which is expressed
by a learned pen, however far removed from common use, (though to
shield negligence the charge is often made), if the teacher knows
it sufficiently, and the learner be willing and not wayward. For
what are the things which we handle in learning? Are they not of
our own choice? Are they not our own inventions? Are they not
meant to supply our own needs? And was not the first inventor very
well able to open up the thing he invented before he commended it
to others? Or did those who received it do so before they were
instructed as to its use? Or could blunt ignorance have won such
credit in a doubtful case, though professing to bring advantage,
that it was believed before it had persuaded those who had any
foresight, by plain evidence that the thing was profitable, as well
for the present as for the time to come? If the first inventor
could both find and persuade, his follower must do likewise, or be
at fault himself; he must deliver the matter from the suspicion of
hardness, which arises from his own defect in exposition. If he who
reads fails to grasp the meaning through ignorance, he is to be
pardoned for his infirmity; if having some capacity he fails from
lack of will, he is punished enough by being left in ignorance;
and if while able to follow with the best he keeps with the worst,
blinded understanding is the greatest darkness, and punishes the
evil humour with the depraving of reason. If an expounder, such as
I am now, be himself weak, he is ill-advised if he either writes
before he knows, or does not mend when he has written amiss,
provided he knows where and how. Yet the reader’s courtesy is some
protection against error to him who writes, as the writer’s pardon
is a protection to him who reads, if simple ignorance is the only
fault, without defect in goodwill.
It will be admitted that hardness must arise either from the thing
itself or from the handling. If the thing itself is hard it must
be because it is strange to the reader, because it is outside of
his ordinary interests and occupations, or because he does not
give full study and attention to it. To illustrate the former
difficulty, what affinity is there, in respect of occupation,
between a simple ploughman, a wary merchant, and a subtle lawyer,
or between manual trades and metaphysical discourses, whether in
mathematics, physics, or divinity? Again, even to students who
profess some alliance with what they study, can anything be easy if
they have not laboured sufficiently in it? I need say no more than
this, that where there is no acquaintance in profession there is no
help to understanding, where there is no familiarity there is no
facility, where there is no conference there is no knowledge. If
the man delves the earth, and the matter dwells in heaven, there
is no means of uniting them over so great a distance. But when
the understanding, though in affinity, is clearly insufficient,
there is far more hardness than where there is a difference of
occupation, because a vain conceit brings much more error than
weak knowledge. Some good may come out of an ignorant fellow if
he begin to take hold, but the lukewarm learned mars his way by
prejudiced opinion. But in all this, if there be any difficulty
about the matter, its cause lies in the man, and not in the nature
of the thing. I am quick in teaching, and hard of understanding,
but towards whom and why? Towards him, forsooth, who is not
sufficiently acquainted with the matter in hand. Well, then, if
want of familiarity is the cause of the difficulty, acquaintance
once made and continued will remedy that complaint, if the matter
seem worth the man’s acquaintance in his natural tongue, for that
is a question in a vision blinded by foreign glamours, or if the
learner is really desirous to be rid of his ignorance, for that
is another question where a vain opinion over-values itself. For
in the case of a book written in the English tongue there are so
many Englishmen well able to satisfy fully the ignorant reader,
that it were too great a discourtesy not to lighten a man’s labour
with a short question, and an equally short answer. But where the
matter, being no pleasant tale nor amorous device, but a serious
and worthy argument concerning sober learning, not familiar to all
readers, or even to all writers, professes no ease without some
effort, then if such effort be not made an unnatural idleness is
betrayed, which desires less to find ease than to find fault. For
why should one labour to help all, and none be willing to help that
one? Nay, why should none be willing to help themselves out of the
danger and bondage of blind ignorance? If the book were all in
Latin, and the reader were not acquainted with a single word, then
the case would be desperate, but as it is, any man may compass it
with very little inquiry from his skilful neighbour. Therefore if
anything seems hard to an ignorant man who desires to know, and
fails owing to the unfamiliarity of the subject, he must handle the
thing often, so that it may become easy, and when a doubt arises
he must confer with those who have more knowledge. For all strange
things seem great novelties, and are hard to grasp at their first
arrival, but after some acquaintance they become quite familiar,
and are easily dealt with. And words likewise which express strange
matters, or are strangers themselves, are not wild beasts, nor
is a term a tiger to prove wholly untractable. Familiarity and
acquaintance will bring facility both in matter and in words.
If the handling seems to cause the difficulty, and if that proceeds
from him who presents the argument, not only in the opinion of the
unpractised reader, but truly in the view of those who are able to
judge, then such a writer is worthy of blame, in seeking to expound
without sufficient study; but if the defective handling is due not
to the writer, but to plain misunderstanding, then there is small
praise to the reader who misconstrues without regard to courtesy or
reverence for truth.
As for my style in treatment, if it be charged with difficulty,
that also proceeds from choice, being intended to show that I
come from the forge, being always familiar with strong steel
and pithy stuff in the reading of good writers, and therefore
bound to resemble that metal in my style. To argue closely and
with sequence, to trace causes and effects, to seek sinews and
sound strength rather than waste flesh, is seemly for a student,
especially when he writes for perpetuity, where the reader may
keep the book by him to study at his leisure, not being forced
either to take it all at once or forgo it altogether, as is the
case in speech. Discourses that are entirely popular, or are
written in haste for the moment, may well be slight in manner, for
their life is short; and where what is said is at once to be put
to present use, the plainer the style the more plausible it will
be, and therefore most excellent in its kind, since the expression
must be adapted to the immediate end in view, leaving nothing to
muse on, as there is no time for musing. But where the matter is
no courier to post away in haste, and there must be musing on
it, another course must be taken, and yet the manner of delivery
must not be thought hard, nor compared with others of a different
kind, considering that it is meant to teach, and can use such
plainness only as the subject admits of. Does any man of judgment
in learning and in the Latin tongue think that Cicero’s orations
and his discourses in philosophy were equally well known and of
equal plainness to the people of Rome, though both in their own
way are plain enough to us, who know the Latin tongue better than
our own, because we pore over it, and pay no attention to our own?
Certainly not, as appears from many passages in Cicero himself,
where he notes the difference, and confesses that the newness of
the subjects which he transported from Greece was the cause of
some darkness to the ordinary reader, and of some contempt to the
learned because they fancied the Greek more. Yet neither ignorance
nor contempt could discourage his pen from seeking the advantage
of his own language, by translating into it the learning which
others wished to remain in the Greek; he kept on his course, and
in the end the tide turned in his favour, bringing him the credit
which he enjoys to this day. And he himself bears witness that
the resistance he met with was due not only to the matter of which
he treated, but also to his manner of expression, and even to the
very words he used, which being strange and newly-coined were
not understood by the ordinary reader. “I could write of these
things,” he says, meaning philosophical subjects, “like Amasanius”
(an obscure writer of apophthegms) “but in that case not like
myself; as plainly as he, but not then so as to satisfy myself, or
do justice to the subject as I should handle it. I must define,
divide, distinguish, exercise judgment, and use the terms of art.
I must have regard as well to those from whom my learning is
borrowed, that they may say they meant it so, as to those for whom
it is borrowed, that they may say they understand it.”
The writer who does otherwise may be thought plain by those who
seek nothing far, but if those who call for plainness are always
to be pleased, and dealt with so daintily that they are put to
no pains to learn and enquire, when they find themselves in a
difficulty through their own ignorance; if they must be made a
lure for learning to descend to, rather degenerating herself than
teaching them to look up, what is the use of skill? He who made
the earth made hills and dales, heights and plains, smooth places
and rough, and yet all good of their own kind. Plainness is good
for a pleasant course, and a popular style is in place in ordinary
argument, where no art is needed because the reader knows none,
and the matter can be simply expressed, being indeed in her best
colours when she is dressed for common purposes. Likewise this
alleged hardness, though it belong to the matter, has its special
use in whetting people’s wits, and making a deep impression, where
what seems dark contains something that must be considered thrice
before it is mastered.
Labour is the coin which is current in heaven, for which and by
which Almighty God sells His best wares, though in His great
goodness He sometimes does more for some in giving them quickness
and intelligence, even without great labour, than any labour can do
for others, in order to let us know that His mercy is the mistress
when our labour learns best. But in our ordinary life, if carpeting
be knighting, where is necessary defence? If easy understanding
be the readiest learning, then wake not my lady; she learns as
she lies. If all things are hard which everyone thinks to be so,
where is the privilege and benefit of study? What is the use of
study, if what we get by labour is condemned as too hard for those
that do not study. I will not allege that the learned men of old
made use of obscure expressions in matters of religion in order
to win reverence towards a subject that belonged to another world
and could not be fully dealt with in ordinary speech, nor that the
old wisdom was expressed in riddles, proverbs, fables, oracles,
and mystic verses, in order to draw men on to study, and fix in
the memory what was carefully considered before it was uttered.
Are any of our oldest and best writers whom we now study, and who
have been thought the greatest, each in his kind, ever since they
first wrote, understood at once after a single reading, even though
those who are studying them know their tongue as well as we know
English--nay, even better, because it is more intricate? Or is
their manner of writing to be disapproved of as dark, because the
ignorant reader or fastidious student cannot straightway rush into
it? That they fell into that compressed kind of writing owing to
their very pith in saying much where they speak least, is clearly
shown by the comments of those who expand at great length what was
set down in one short sentence--nay, even in a single phrase of a
sentence. Are not all the chief paragons and principal leaders in
every profession of this same character, inaccessible to ordinary
people, even though using the same language, and giving of their
store only to those who will study?
But may not this obscurity lie in him who finds it rather than in
the matter, which is simple in itself, and simply expressed, though
it may not seem so to him? Our daintiness deceives us, our want
of goodwill blinds us--nay, our lack of skill is the very witch
which bereaves us of sense, though we profess to have knowledge and
favour towards learning. For everyone who bids a book good-morrow
is not necessarily a scholar, or a judge of the subject dealt
with in the book. He may have studied up to a certain point, but
perhaps neither hard nor long, or he may be very little acquainted
with the subject he is seeking to judge of. Perhaps the desire of
preferment has cut short his study when it was most promising,
or there is some other of the many causes of weakness, although
pretension may impose upon the world with a show of learning. Any
man may judge well of a matter which he has sufficiently studied,
and thoroughly practised (if it be a study that requires practice),
and has regarded in its various relations. A pretty skill in some
particular direction will sometimes glance beyond, and show a
smattering of further knowledge, but no further than a glance,
no more than a smattering. Therefore, in my judgment of another
man’s writings, so much only is just as I should be able to prove
soundly, if I were seriously challenged by those who can judge,
not so much as I may venture uncontrolled, in seeking merely to
please myself or those as ignorant as myself. Apelles could admit
the opinion of the cobbler, so far as his knowledge of cobbling
justified him, but not an inch further.
As for my manner of writing, if I do not meet expectation, I have
always some warrant, for I write rather with regard to the essence
of the matter in hand than to superficial effect. For however it
may be in speech, and in that kind of writing which resembles
speech, being adapted to ordinary subjects with an immediate
practical end, certainly where the matter has to stand a more
lasting test, and be tried by the hammer of learned criticism,
there should be precision, orderly method, and carefully chosen
expression, every word having its due force, and every sentence
being well and deliberately weighed. Such writing, though it may be
without esteem in our age through the triviality of the time, may
yet win it in another, when its value is appreciated. Some hundreds
of years may pass before saints are enshrined, or books gain their
full authority.