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BOOKS AND TRADITION. Buoks are faithful repositories, which may be a while neglected or forgotten ; but when they are opened again, will again impart their instruction: memory once interrupted is not to be recalled. Written learning is a fixed luminary, which, after the cloud that has hidden it has passed away, is again bright in its proper station. Tradition is but a meteor, which, if once it falls, cannot be rekindled.
In this work, when it shall be found that much is omiti
PREVENTION OF EVIL HABITS. Those who are in the power of evil habits must conquer them as they can ; and conquered they must be, or neither wisdom nor happiness can be attained; but those who are not yet subject to their influence, may, by timely caution, preserve their freedom ; they may effectually resolve to escape the tyrant, whom they will very vainly resolve to conquer.
FROM THE PREFACE TO HIS DICTIONARY. In hope of giving longevity to that which its own nature forbids to be immortal, I have devoted this book, the labor of years, to the honor of my country, that we may no longer yield the palin of philology, without a contest, to the nations of the continent. The chief glory of every people arises from its authors: whether I shall add any thing by my own writings to the reputation of English literature, must be left to time; much of my life has been lost under the pressures of disease ; much has been trifled away; and much has always been spent in provision for the day that was passing over me; but I shall not think my employment useless or ignoble, if, by my assistance, foreign nations and distant ages gain access to the propagators of knowledge, and understand the teachers of truth; if my labors afford light to the repositories of science, and add celebrity to Bacon, to Hooker, to Milton, and to Boyle.
When I am animated by this wish, I look with pleasure on my book, however defective, and deliver it to the world with the spirit of a man that has endeavored well. That it will immediately become popular, I have not promised to myself; a few wild blunders and risible absurdities, from which no work of such muluplicity was ever free, may for a time furnish folly with laughter, and harden ignorance into contempt; but useful diligence will at last prevail, and there can never be wanting some who distinguish desert, who will consider that no dictionary of a living tongue ever can be perfect, since, while it is hastening to publication, sume words are budding and some falling away; that a whole life cannot be spent upou syntax and etymology, and that even a whole
world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the fa that which it condemns, yet it may gratify curiosity to inf that the English Dictionary was written with little assista the learned, and without any patronage of the great ; not saft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of aci bowers, but amid inconvenience and distraction, in sickne: in sorrow. It may repress the triumph of malignant critic chserve, that if our language is not here fully displayed, only failed in an attempt which no human powers have h completed. If the lexicons of ancient tongues, now imm fired, and comprised in a few volumes, be yet, after the successive ages, inadequate and delusive; if the age knowledge and co-operating diligence of the Italian acades did not secure them from the censure of Beni; if the er eristics of France, when fifty years had been spent upo work, were obliged to change its economy, and give their edition another form, I may surely be contented without th di perfection, which, if I could obtain in this gloom what would it avail me? I have protracted my work till
those whom I wished to please have sunk into the gra
REFLECTIONS ON LANDING AT IONA.
1 One of the Western Isles.
life would not be sufficient; that he whose design includes whatever language can express, must often speak of what he does not understand ; that a writer will sometimes be hurried by eagerness to the end, and sometimes faint with weariness under a task which Scaliger compares to the labors of the anvil and the mine ; that what is obvious is not always known, and what is known is not always present; that sudden fits of inadvertency will surprise vigilance, slight avocations will seduce attention, and casual eclipses of the mind will darken learning; and that the writer shall often in vain trace his memory at the moment of need for that which yesterday he knew with intuitive readiness, and which will come uncalled into his thoughts to-morrow.
In this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the author, and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns, yet it may gratify curiosity to inform it, that the English Dictionary was written with little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great ; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academic bowers, but amid inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow. It may repress the triumph of malignant criticism to observe, that if our language is not here fully displayed, I have only failed in an attempt which no human powers have hitherto completed. If the lexicons of ancient tongues, now immutably fixed, and comprised in a few volumes, be yet, after the toil of successive ages, inadequate and delusive; if the aggregated knowledge and co-operating diligence of the Italian academicians did not secure them from the censure of Beni; if the embodied critics of France, when fifty years had been spent upon their work, were obliged to change its economy, and give their second edition another form, I may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which, if I could obtain in this gloom of solitude, what would it avail me? I have protracted my work till most of those whom I wished to please have sunk into the grave, and success and miscarriage are empty sounds. I therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from censure or from praise.
REFLECTIONS ON LANDING AT IONA. We were now treading that illustrious island which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion PARALLEL BETWEEN DRYDEN AND POPE Integrity of understanding and nicety of discern zlotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope zude of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by of his poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnar and rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed to for the people ; and when he pleased others, he ca seli. He spent no time in struggles to rouse lateni never attempted to make that better which was alrea often to mend what he must have known to be faulty as he tells us, with very little consideration ; wher necessity called upon him, he poured out what the Inent happened to supply, and, when once it ha press, ejected it from his mind; for when he had interest, he had no further solicitude.
1 One of the Western Isles.
would be impossible if it were endeavored, and would be foolish if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force on the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.
PICTURE OF THE MISERIES OF WAR. It is wonderful with what coolness and indifference the greater part of mankind see war commenced. Those that hear of it at a distance or read of it in books, but have never presented its evils to their minds, consider it as little more than a splendid game, a proclamation, an army, a battle, and a triumph. Some, indeed, must perish in the successful field, but they die upon the bed of honor, resign their lives amidst the joys of conquest, and, filled with England's glory, smile in death!
The life of a modern soldier is ill represented by heroic fiction. War has means of destruction more formidable than the cannon and the sword. Of the thousands and ten thousands that perished in our late contests with France and Spain, a very small part erer felt the stroke of an enemy; the rest languished in tents and ships, amidst damps and putrefaction; pale, torpid, spiritless, and helpless; gasping and groaning, unpitied among men, made obdurate by long continuance of hopeless misery; and were at last whelmed in pits, or heaved into the ocean, without notice and without remembrance. By incommodious encampments and unwholesome stations, where courage is useless and enterprise im. practicable, fleets are silently dispeopled, and armies sluggishly melted away.
Thus is a people gradually exhausted, for the most part, with little effect. The wars of civilized nations make very slow changes in the system of empire. The public perceives scarcely any alteration but an increase of debt; and the few individuals who are benefited are not supposed to have the clearest right to their advantages. If he that shared the danger enjoyed the profit, and after bleeding in the battle, grew rich by the victory, he might show his gains without envy. But at the conclusion of a ten years' war, how are we recompensed for the death of multitudes and the expense of millions, but by contemplating the sudden glories of paymasters and agents, contractors and commissaries, whose equipages shine like meteors, and whose palaces rise like exhalations!
Pope was not content to satisfy ; he desired to exc
For this reason he kept his pieces very long i
His declaration, that his care for his works ceased
Boned them; what he found amiss in the first editio
In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be a den, whose education was more scholastic, and i
PARALLEL BETWEEN DRYDEN AND POPE. Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were nut allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merel; for the people; and when he pleased others, he contented himself. He spent no time in struggles to rouse latent powers; he never attempted to make that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very little consideration ; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he poured out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind; for when he had no pecuniary interest, he had no further solicitude.
Pope was not content to satisfy ; he desired to excel, and therefore always endeavored to do his best : he did not court the candor, but dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence till he had left nothing to be forgiven.
For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be supposed to have been written with such regard to the tiines as might hasten their publication, were the two satires of “ Thirty-eight;" of which Dodsley told me, that they were brought to him by the author, that they might be fairly copied. “Almost every line,” he said, “was then written twice over; I gave him a clean transcript, which he sent some time afterwards to me for the press, with almost every line written twice over a second time."
His declaration, that his care for his works ceased at their publication, was not strictly true. His parental attention never abandoned them; what he found amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that followed. He appears to have revised the « Iliad," and freed it from some of its imperfections; and the • Essay on Criticism” received many improvements after its first appearance. It will seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or vigor. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.
In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose education was more scholastic, and who, before he became an author, had been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. His mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations from a more extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dry. den were formed by comprehensive speculation ; and those of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the know. ledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope.
Poetry was not the sole praise of either; for both excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is capricious and varied ; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden observes the motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid ; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exube. rance of abundant vegetation; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller.
Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates; the superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred that of this poetical vigor Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more ; for every other writer since Milton must give place to Pope ; and even of Dryden it must be said, that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. Dryden's performances were always hasty, either excited by some external occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity; he composed without consideration, and published without correction. What his mind could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might produce, or chance might supply. If the flights of Dryden therefore are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight.
Life of Pose
sions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or dents of transient fashions or temporary opinions. genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the always supply, and observation will always find. ] act and speak by the influence of those general passio ciples by which all minds are agitated, and the whole life is continued in motion. In the writings of other nacter is too often an individual: in those of Shak canmonly a species.
It is from this wide extension of design that so mu tion is derived. It is this which fills the plays of Shak practical axioms and domestic wisdom. It was said on that every verse was a precept; and it may be said of that from his works may be collected a system of civi mical prudence. Yet his real power is not shown in of particular passages, but by the progress of his fa tenor of bis dialogue: and he that tries to recomm select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in Hie
when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in
It will not easily be imagined how much Shakspea
Upon every other stage the universal agent is li power all good and evil is distributed, and every act or retarded. To bring a lover, a lady, and a rival tentangle them in contradictory obligations, perp oppositions of interest, and harass them with viole inconsistent with each other; to make them meeti part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolic rageous sorrow; to distress them as nothing huma tressed; to deliver them as nothing human ever is the business of a modem dramatist. For thi
Shakspeare is, above all writers,—at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not modified by the customs of particular places, unpractised by the rest of the world ; by the peculiarities of studies or profes.