My fellow-countrymen and gentle readers, my first purpose in taking up this subject, and venturing into print, of which till lately I have stood in awe, was to do some good in the profession in which I have for many years been engaged, and by giving my experience in the teaching of the learned tongues, to lighten the labour of other men, because I had discovered some defects that required a remedy. But the consideration of these led me a great deal further than I dreamed of at first. Intending to deal only with the teaching of languages in the Grammar School, I was enforced by the sway of meditation to think of the whole course of learning, and to consider how every particular thing arose in a definite order. For without that consideration how could I have discerned where to begin and where to end, in any one thing that depends on a sequel and proceeds from a principle? For the subject I am dealing with is a matter of ascent, where every particular that goes before has continual reference to what comes after, if the whole scheme is scientifically arranged. In this course of mine, the elementary principles may be compared to the first groundwork, the teaching of tongues to the second storey and the after-learning to the upper buildings. Now as in architecture and building he were no good workman who did not plan his framework so that each of the ascents should harmonise with the others, so in the stages of learning it were no masterly part not to show a similar care, and that cannot be done till the whole is thought of and thoroughly shaped in the mind of him who undertakes the work.

After I had formed an opinion both as to where lay the blemishes which disfigured learning and as to how they might be redressed, as well for my own practice as by way of advice to others, I came down to particulars and began to examine even from the very first what went before the tongues in the orderly upbringing of children. This was the first task that claimed me before I fell to further thoughts and the last too, even when I had considered all that followed, but it was then undertaken more advisedly. I entered upon an investigation into the whole early training all the more readily because I perceived great backwardness in the learning of tongues through infirmities in the elementary groundwork. What a toil it is to a grammar master when the young child who is brought to him to teach, has no foundation laid on which anything can be built! I undertook, therefore, to enquire into all those things that concern the elementary training, as a stage in teaching preceding the study of grammar, hoping by my own labour to be of use to a multitude of masters. Moreover, as this matter concerns learners who have not yet entered upon Latin, and teachers who may have only mediocre learning, I thought it best to publish in the tongue that is common to us all, both before and after we learn Latin.

But here there are three questions that may perhaps be asked: First, what those blemishes are which I observed in the main body of learning, a subject so closely investigated in our day by such a variety and excellence of learned wits that every branch of it is thought to have recovered the consideration it had at its highest point; secondly, why in regard to methods of teaching I do not content myself with following the precedent of other writers, who in great numbers have written learned treatises with the same end in view, but rather toil myself with a private labour, the issue of which is uncertain, whereas the previous writers on the subject, being themselves learned, and having achieved success, may be followed with assurance; thirdly, if it is my endeavour to handle a learned subject in the English tongue, why I take so much pains and such a special care in handling it, that the weaker sort, whose benefit I profess to consider—nay, often others also of reasonable study—can with difficulty understand the couching of my sentence and the depth of my meaning.

While I answer these questions, I must pray your patience, my good masters, because the things may not be lightly passed over, and in satisfying your demands I shall pave the way for the suit I have to make to you.

First, as for my general care for the whole course of learning, I have thus much to say. The end of every individual man’s doings for his own advantage, and the end of the whole commonweal for the good of us all, are so much alike in aspect, and so entirely the same in nature, that when the one is seen the other needs little seeking. Each individual man labours in this world in order to win rest after toil, to have ease after work; he does not wish to be always engaged in labour, which would be exceedingly irksome if it were endless. The soldier fights in his own intention perhaps to gain ease through wealth, which he may win by spoil; in outward appearance he labours for the advantage of his country by way of defence and security. The merchant traffics in his own intention to procure personal ease through private wealth; to the public he seems to labour for the common benefit, by supplying wants in necessary wares for general use. Indeed, all men, whatever be their occupation, while seeking private ends in their actions, at the same time concur in serving general ends. Thus it appears that ease after labour is the common aim of both private and public efforts, because everyone in the natural course of his whole conduct has regard to the general prosperity and quiet, which maintain his own personal well-being. Then the means both of coming by this end, and when it is come by, of maintaining it in state, must needs lie in such directions as make for the peace and quietness of a State, for the keeping of concord and agreement without any main public breach, both in private houses and generally throughout the whole government. These peaceable directions I call, and not I alone, by the simple name of general learning, comprising under it all the arts of peace and the ministry of tranquillity—a matter of great moment, being the only right means to so blessed a thing as fortunate peace, imparting the benefit of public quietness to every household, as a central fountain serves every man’s cistern by private pipes, and if it be not sound, conveying the blemish like the infected water of a fountain, or the corrupt blood that escaping from the liver poisons the whole body. Even war itself, a professed enemy to learning, because it is in feud with peace, may by just handling be shown to work for peace at home by uniting the minds of all against a common foe. By the employment of learning in every department all princes govern their States; the general control is exercised through grave and learned counsellors and wise and faithful justiciaries, and the particular control, in religion by divines, in the health of the body by physicians, in the maintenance of right by lawyers, and so on in every particular profession, from the greatest to the meanest, throughout the whole government—a most blessed means to a most blessed end, a learned maintenance of a heavenly happiness in an earthly State of a heavenly constitution. Therefore, any error in this means is an injury indeed, and deserves to be thought of as a hindrance to peace, and a pernicious destroyer of the best public end, beginning perhaps as a small spark, but always gathering strength by the confluence of similar infection in some other parts, till at last it sets all on fire, and bursts out in a confusion, the more to be feared that it festers before it breaks into flame, and shrouding itself under a show of peace, consumes without suspicion, and escapes being brought to terms as a professed enemy. I may say that in my reflection on this subject of the ascent of learning from the elementary stage, I thought I found these four imperfections in the whole body of learning—in some places an excess, in others a defect, in others too great a variety, in others too much disagreement. These are four great enormities in a peaceable means, breeding great diseases, and bidding defiance to quiet, both within the State in the governing direction, and outside it by evident inflammation, and they are therefore to be thought of not only for complaint in particular cases, but by magistrates in regard to their amendment.

As for excess I conceive that as in every natural body the number of sinews, veins, and arteries to give it life and motion, is definite and certain, so in a body politic the distributive use of learning, which I compare to those parts, is everywhere certain. And whatever is more than nature requires in either of them, as in the one it breeds disease, so in the other it causes destruction by breach of proportion, and so consequently of peace. In natural bodies excess appears when one or more parts encroach on the others and enfeeble them. In communities this excess in learning is to be discerned when the private professions swell too much and so weaken the whole body, either by the multitude of professional men, who bite deeply where many must be fed and there is little to feed on, or by unnecessary professions, which choke off the more useful, and fill the world with trifles, or by an infinitude of books, which cloy up students, and weaken them by an intolerable diffuseness of treatment, fattening the carcass but lowering the strength of pithy matter. Do not all these surfeits exist at this day in our own State? Are they not enemies to the common good, being grown out of proportion? Are they not worth consideration and redress?

I pass now to the question of defect. In a natural body there is too little, when either something necessary is wanting, or what is there is too weak to serve its purpose. And does not learning show the same defects, disquieting to a State, when the necessary professional men are wanting either in number or in worthiness; where show takes the place of sound stuff; where in place of real learning only superficial knowledge is sought, enough to make a shift with; when necessary professions are despised and trampled under foot, because the cursory student has to post away in haste; when there is a lack of needful books to further learning, and those we have are of little use owing to insufficiency of treatment? This corruption in learning any man may see who desires to seek out either the malady or its cure; it is a breach of proportion, and therefore of peace, in a commonwealth, a pining evil which consumes by starving.

As for diversity in matters of learning, I think that as it proceeds from differences in ability, in upbringing, in intelligence, in judgment, because these are much finer in some than in others, it does a great deal of harm to the peace of any State, especially where its leaders, though they may not fall out, but merely express their opinions, yet divide studies according to their favourites, considering the importance of the subjects less than the attraction of the authors. If this diversity breaks out in earnest, as it has frequently done in our time, while printing itself, which in its natural and best uses is the instrument of necessity and the exponent of learning, becomes very often too easy an outlet for vaunting ambition, for malicious envy and revenge, for all passions to all purposes, what a sore blow is given to the public quiet, when the means to welfare is made an instrument of distemper! For will not he fight in his fury who brawls in his books? Do not those minds seem armed for open conflict—nay, do they not arm others too by pressing enmity forward—which in private studies enter into combats on paper; which by too much eagerness make a great ado in matters better quenched than stirred to life; which whet their wits beforehand to be wranglers ever after, and as far as lies in them disturb the general welfare? What I disapprove of is needless combats in learning; those that are fruitful may go on, yet with no more passion than common civility and Christian charity will allow. Excess overburdens, defect weakens, diversity distracts, but dissension destroys. You know yourselves, my learned readers, what a wonderful stir there is daily in your schools, through diverging opinions in logic, in philosophy, in mathematics, in physics. The lawyer generally abstains from controversal writing, because he does not gain by it what he seeks; pleading in the Common Courts offers a better pasture for a lean purse than a busy pen. The dissension in divinity is specially fierce, the more so because it often falls out that the adversaries intermingle their own passions with the matters they treat of. For while our religious doctrines sometimes require defence, disputes might often be compounded, if men’s feelings were as readily cooled as they are inflamed. But in the meanwhile how greatly is the general peace disturbed by dissensions that turn aside a worthy means, to maintain a wrong and become a slave to some inordinate passion! I cannot enter fully upon this subject, but touch upon it merely that my good readers may understand how much my desire for the furtherance of learning was increased after I had noticed these inconveniences, though at first I meant only to help the teaching of the learned tongues. Agreement among the learned is the mother of general contentment; by carping and contradicting they trouble the world and taint themselves, bearing all the while the name of Christians—a title which enjoins us to avoid contention, even by the submission of those who are wronged, and charges us to defend our religion, not with passionate minds, but with the armour of patience and truth. These were the blemishes which I saw by the way, and lamented in the body of learning. The amendment which I desire rests upon two great pillars—the professors of learning, who must give intelligence of the error, and the principal magistrates—nay, even the sovereign prince—who being God’s great instruments to procure quietness for our souls and bodies, our goods and actions, must bring about redress in so important a matter as the course of learning.

The prince may cut off what is in excess, make up what is deficient, reconcile diversities, expel dissensions, by his lawful authority for the general good; and everyone will submit, because everyone is benefited. This, indeed, confirms Plato’s saying that kings should be philosophers; that is, that all magistrates should be learned. It is a great corrosive to the whole body of learning, which is the procurer of peace, when those who have to direct gain their wisdom only through experience. That is much, but experience and learning together make the better equipment. It is an honourable conception, besides that it tends to the general good, for a learned and virtuous prince, assisted by wise counsel, to reduce the number of those that follow learning, by some principle of selection in every department, to decide what kinds of learning are most useful to the State, and to appoint a reasonable number of such books as have the best methods of treatment. The final authority in regard to every profession has always lain with the prince. Action has been taken before in all the directions I have spoken of, both by consent of the learned and by command of good princes. As our country is small, the thing could be the more easily done; as our livings are limited, it is the more needful; as the evil is great, we are the less able to bear it; as our sovereign is learned, we shall be the readier to give ear; as our people are of good understanding, they are the better able to inform her. But as the physician does not thrive by the prevention of disease, nor the lawyer grow rich by arresting contentions, nor a divine prosper so much in a heaven where all is good as on earth where all is evil, and as private profit will be followed, though it bring confusion to the State, redress will not stir, because it judges the world to be in some fault which it is loth to confess. However, to secure some redress and help in this matter at the hand of the ruler, is the duty of all who make a profession of learning, if they will but consider the reputation of learning in our day, whether from the contempt in which some professions are held, or from a deficiency in those who enter them.

In the professors of learning, to whose solicitation this point is recommended, two things are chiefly required. First, that with minds given to peace they should study soundly themselves, and that the matter be worthy and taken in due order. For sound learning will not so soon be shaken at every eager point of controversy as that which is shallow. Orderly progress gives security, and a pacific temper furthers the end that is desired both privately and publicly. The consent of the learned and their quiet inclination are a great blessing to any Commonwealth, but especially to ours in this contentious time, when overwhetted minds do very little good to some worthy professions. The distracting division of minds into sects and sorts of philosophy did much injury in the countries where it befel, and those nations among which religious dissensions arose have never been quiet since. The second point required in a student is not to seek his own advancement so much as that of the things he professes, and indeed the possession of these things is the best means to advance himself, for, where ignorance is blamed, knowledge is approved, even though the approver may not be learned. He who studies soundly recommends letters by his own example; he who solicits the help of those in authority advances learning still further; he who uses his pen to strengthen the best current of opinion proves the genuineness of his desire by his own practice. In this last form my own labour seeks to recommend uniformity, to strip off what is needless, to supply some defects, to help everyone to as quiet a course as I can temper my style to.

The second question which I said might be demanded of me, why I do not follow the precedent of those learned writers who have handled the subject with great admiration may be very soon answered. I admit that the number of those who have written upon the upbringing of children might be considered sufficient, and I grant the excellence of many of them, such as Bembus, Sturmius, and Erasmus. But the situation is different. A free city and a country under a monarchy are not in the same position, though they agree in some general respects, in which indeed these writers do not dissent from me. Nor do I fail to follow good writers, taking example from those authors who taught all the later ones to write so well. I am the servant of my country; for her sake I labour, her circumstances I must consider, and whatsoever I shall pen I shall myself see it carried out, by the grace of God, in order the better to persuade others by offering the proof of trial.

The third question, as to my writing in English, and my being so careful—I will not say fastidious—in expression, concerns me more nearly, for it has some importance. It is the opinion of some that we should not treat any philosophical subject, or any ordinary subject in a philosophical manner, in the English tongue, because the unlearned find it too difficult to understand in any case, and the learned, holding it in little esteem, get no pleasure from it. In regard both to writing in English generally, and my own writing in particular, I have this to say: No one language is finer than any other naturally, but each becomes cultivated by the efforts of the speaker who, using such opportunities as are afforded by the kind of government under which he lives, endeavours to garnish it with eloquence, and enrich it with learning. Such a tongue, elegant in form and learned in matter, while it keeps within its natural soil, not only serves its immediate purpose with just admiration, but in foreigners who become acquainted with it, it kindles a great desire to have their own language resemble it. Thus it came to pass that the people of Athens beautified their speech in the practice of pleading, and enriched it with all kinds of knowledge, bred both within Greece and outside of it. Thus it came to pass that the people of Rome, having formed their practice in imitation of the Athenian, became enamoured with the eloquence of those from whom they were borrowing, and translated their learning also. However, there was not nearly the same amount of learning in the Latin tongue during the time of the Romans as there is at this day by the industry of students throughout the whole of Europe, who use Latin as a common means of expression, both in original works and in translations. Roman authority first planted Latin among us here, by force of their conquest, and its use in matters of learning causes it to continue. Therefore the so-called Latin tongues have their own peoples to thank, both for their own cultivation at home and for the favour they enjoy abroad. So it falls out that, as we are profited by means of these tongues, we should pay them honour, and yet not without cherishing our own, in regard both to cases where the usage is best and to those where it is open to improvement. For did not these tongues use even the same means to cultivate themselves before they proved so beautiful? Did the people shrink from putting into their own language the ideas they borrowed from foreign sources? If they had done so, we should never have had the works we so greatly admire.

There are two chief reasons which keep Latin, and to some extent other learned tongues, in high consideration among us,—the knowledge which is registered in them, and their use as a means of communication, in both speaking and writing, by the learned class throughout Europe. While these two benefits are retained, if there is anything else that can be done with our own tongue, either in beautifying it, or in turning it to practical account, we cannot but take advantage of it, even though Latin should thus be displaced, as it displaced others, bequeathing its learning to us. For is it not indeed a marvellous bondage, to become servants to one tongue for the sake of learning, during the greater part of our time, when we can have the very same treasure in our own language, which forms the joyful title to our liberty, as the Latin reminds us of our thraldom? I love Rome, but I love London better; I favour Italy, but I favour England more; I honour the Latin tongue, but I worship the English. I wish everything were in our tongue which the learned tongues gained from others, nor do I wrong them in treating them as they did their predecessors, teaching us by their example how boldly we may venture, notwithstanding the opinion of some among us, who desire rather to please themselves with a foreign language that they know, than to profit their country in their own language, which they ought to know. It is no argument to say: Will you dishonour those tongues which have honoured you, and without which you could never have enjoyed the learning of which you propose to rob them? For I honour them still, as much as any one, even in wishing my own tongue to be a partaker of their honour. For if I did not hold them in great admiration, because I know their value, I would not think it any honour for my own language to imitate their grace. I wish we had the stores with which they furnished themselves from foreign sources. For the tongues that we study were not the first getters, though by learned labour they prove to be good keepers, and they are ready to discharge their trust, in handing on to others what was committed to them for a term, and not in perpetuity. There can be no disgrace in their delivering to others what they received on that understanding. The dishonour will lie rather with the tongue that refuses to receive the inheritance intended for it and duly offered to it, and from this dishonour I would our language were free. I admit the good fortune of those tongues that had so great a start over others that they are most welcome wherever they set foot, and are always admired for their rare excellence, disposing all men to think little of any form of speech that does not resemble them, and to rank even the best of these as marvellously behind them. The diligent labour of the learned men of ancient times so enriched their tongues that they proved very pliable, as I am assured our own will prove, if our learned fellow-countrymen will bestow their labour on it. And why, I pray you, should such labour not be bestowed on English, as well as on Latin or any other language? Will you say it is needless? Certainly that will not hold. If loss of time over tongues, while you are pilgrims to learning, is no injury, or lack of sound skill, while language distracts the mind from the sense, especially with the foolish and inexperienced, then there might be some ground for holding it needless. But since there was no need for the present loss of time in study through labouring with tongues, and since our understanding is more perfect in our natural speech, however well we may know the foreign language, methinks necessity itself calls for English, by which all that bravery may be had at home that makes us gaze so much at the fine stranger. But you will say it is uncouth; so it is, through being unused. So was it with Latin, and so it is with every language. Cicero himself, the paragon of Rome while he was alive, and our best pattern now though he is dead, had great wrestling with such wranglers, and their disdain of their natural speech, before he won from the public of his time the opinion in which he was held by the best of his friends then, and is held by us now. Are not all his prefaces to his philosophical writings full of such conflicts with these cavillers? English wits are very well able, thank God, if the good will were present, to make that uncouth and unknown learning very familiar to our people in our own tongue, even by the example of those very writers we esteem so highly, who having done for other languages what I wish for ours in the like case, must needs approve of us, unless they assert that the merit of conveying knowledge from a foreign tongue died with them, not to revive among us. But whatever they may say to continue their own credit, our fellow-countrymen cannot but think that it is our praise to obtain by purchase and transplanting into our own tongue what they were so desirous to place in theirs, and are now so loth to forgo again; it is indeed the fairest flower of their whole garland, for these tongues would wither soon, or decay altogether, but for the great knowledge contained therein. If our people were not readier to wonder at their workmanship than to take trouble with their own tongue, they might have the same advantage. Our English is our own, and must be used by those to whom it belongs, as were those others that were ranked with the best.

But it may be replied that our English tongue is not worthy of such cultivation, because it has so little extent, stretching no further than this island of ours, and not even over the whole of that. What though this be true? Still it reigns here and serves our purpose; it should be brushed clean in order to be worn. Are not English folk, I pray you, as particular as foreigners? And is not as much taste needed for our tongue in speaking, and our pen in writing, as for apparel and diet? But, it will be said, our State is no empire, hoping to enlarge itself by ruling other countries. What then? Though it be neither large in possession, nor in present hope of great increase, yet where it rules it can make good laws to suit its position, as well as the largest country can, and often better, since in the greatest governments there is often confusion.

But again, it will be urged, we have no rare knowledge belonging 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.

As for the general writing in the English tongue, I must needs say that for some points of handling there is no language more excellent than ours. For teaching memory work pleasantly, as in the old leonine verses, which run in rhyme, it admits more dalliance with words than any other tongue I know. In firmness of speech and strong ending it is very forcible, because of the monosyllabic words of which it so largely consists. For fine translation in pithy terms I find it as quick as any foreign tongue, or quicker, as it is wonderfully pliable and ready to express a pointed thought in very few words. For apt expression of a good deal of matter in not many words it will do as much in original utterance as in any translation. This compact expression may sometimes seem hard, but only where ignorance is harboured, or where indolence is an idol, which will not be persuaded to crack the nut, though it covet the kernel. I need give no example of these, as my own writing will serve as a general pattern. No one can judge so well of these points in our tongue as those who find matter flowing from their pen which refuses to be expressed in any other form. For our tongue has a special character as well as every other, and cannot be surpassed for grace and pith.

In regard to the force of words, which was the third note of alleged obscurity, there are to be considered familiarity for the general reader, beauty for the learned, effectiveness to give pleasure, and borrowing to extend our resources and admit of ready expression. Therefore, if any reader find fault with a word which does not suit his ear, let him mark the one he knows, and learn to value the other, which is worth his knowing. Do we not learn from words? No marvel if it is so, for a word is a metaphor, a learned translation, something carried over from its original sense to serve in some place where it is even more properly used, and where it may be most significant, if it is properly understood. Take pains to learn from it; you have there a means of gaining knowledge. It is not commonly used as I am using it, but I trust I am not abusing it, and it may be filling a more stately place than any you have ever seen it in. Then mark that the place honours the parson, and think well of good words, for though they may be handled by ordinary, or even by foul lips, yet in a fairer mouth, or under a finer pen, they may come to honour. It may be a stranger, and yet no Turk, and though it were the word of an enemy, yet a good thing is worth getting, even from a foe, as well by the language of writers as by the spoil of soldiers. And when the foreign word has yielded itself and been received into favour, it is no longer foreign, though of foreign race, the property in it having been altered. But he who will speak of words need not lack them. However, in this place there is no further need of words, to say either which are familiar, or beautiful, or effective, or which are borrowed; nor is there need to say that in regard to any ornament in words we give place to no other tongue.

As for my own words and the terms that I use, they are generally English, and if any be an incorporated stranger, or translated, or freshly-coined, I have shaped it to fit the place where I use it, as far as my skill will permit. The example and precept of the best judges warrant us in enfranchising foreign words, or translating our own without too manifest insolence or wanton affectation, or else inventing new ones where they are clearly serviceable, the context explaining them sufficiently till frequent usage has made them well known. Therefore, to say what I mean in plain terms, he who is soundly learned will straightway recognise a scholar; he who is well acquainted with a strong pen, whether in reading authors or in actual use, will soon master a compact style; he who has skill in language, whether old and scholarly or newly received into favour, will not wonder at words whose origin he knows, nor be surprised at a thought tersely expressed, in a way familiar to him in other languages. Therefore, as I fear not the judgment of the skilful, because courtesy goes with knowledge, so I value their friendship, because their support gives me credit.

As for those who lack the skill to judge rightly, though they may be sharp censors and ready to talk loudly, I must crave their pardon if I do not bow to their censure, which I cannot accept as a true judgment. Yet I am content to bear with such fellows, and pardon them their errors in regard to myself, as I trust that those who can judge will in their courtesy pardon me my own errors. Those who cannot judge rightly for want of knowledge, but will not betray their weakness by judging wrongly, if they desire to learn in any case of doubt, have the learned to give them counsel. The profit is theirs, if they are willing to take it, but if not, they shall not deter me from writing, and I shall hope at length by deserving well to win their favour, or at least their silence. In conclusion as to the manner of writing and use of words in English, this is my opinion, that he who will justify himself may find many arguments, some closely related to the particular subject that may be in question, others more general but likely to be serviceable, and if in his practice he hath due regard to clear and appropriate expression, then even though one or two things should seem strange to those who judge, the writer is free from blame. As for invention in matter and eloquence in style, the learned know well in what writers they are to be found, and those who are not scholars must learn to think of such things before they presume to judge, lest by failing to measure the writer’s level, they should have no just standard to apply. As for the matter itself which is to be treated by any learned method, as I have already said, familiarity will make it easy, though it seem hard, just as it will make the manner of expression easy, though it seem strange, if the thing really deserves to be studied, which will not appear until some progress is made. And a little hardness, even in the most obscure philosophical discussions, will never seem tedious to an enquiring mind, such as he must have who either seeks to learn himself, or desires to see his native tongue enriched and made the instrument of all his knowledge, as well as of his ordinary needs.

But I have been too tedious, my good readers, yet perhaps not so, since no haste is enjoined, and you may read at leisure. I have now to request you, as I mentioned at first, to grant me your friendly construction, and the favour due to a fellow-countryman. The reverence towards learning which leads the good student to embrace her in his youth, and advances him to honour by her preference in later years, will plead for me with the learned in general, in my endeavour to assert the rights of her by whose authority alone they are themselves of any account. Among my fellow-teachers I may hope that community of interest will help me more with the courteous and learned than a foolish feeling of rivalry will harm me with ignorant and spiteful detractors. Regard for my own profession, and this hope of support from learned teachers, move me to lay stress upon one special point, which in duty must affect them no less than me, namely, the need for careful thought in improving our schools. I say nothing here of the conscientious and religious motives that influence us, nor of the need for personal maintenance that demands our labour. But I would acknowledge the special munificence of our princes and parliaments towards our whole order in our country’s behalf, partly in suffering us to enjoy old immunities, partly in granting us divers other exemptions from personal services and ordinary payments to which our fellow-subjects are liable. These favours deserve at our hands an honourable remembrance, and bind us further to discharge the trust committed to us. I doubt not that this feeling which moves me strongly, moves also many of my profession, whose friendship I crave for favourable construction, and whose conference I desire for help in experience, as I shall be glad in the common cause either to persuade or be persuaded. Of those that are not learned I beg friendship also, and chiefly as a matter of right, because I labour for them, and my goodwill deserves no unthankfulness. God bless us all to the advancement of His glory, the honour of our country, the furtherance of good learning, and the well-being of all ranks, prince and people alike!

CRITICAL ESTIMATE.