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CORPOREAL representation, is the common idea of these three words; but, an effigy, is, to supply the place of the real thing; an image, is, to shew the attitude,
and, design, but, in miniature; a statue, the same; but, as large as life.
Persons, who draw on themselves the popular odium, are, sometimes, hung in ef|figy. Images are made of china, silver, &c. and, set up in houses, by way of ornament. We erect statues of our kings, in grateful remembrance of them.
Of these three words, that of give, is, generally, used in a familiar sense; that of present, in a respectful one; that of offer, in a religious one. We give to our servants. We present to princes. We offer, to God.
We give, what we would have received. We present, what we think, will be agree|able. We offer, what, we imagine, will be acceptable.
We cannot give, what does not belong to us, nor offer, what is not in our power; but, we, sometimes present, what is neither ours, nor, in our power to give.
Frugality, implies, only, discretion of ex|pence; oeconomy, includes, in its idea, some kind of management, in order to eke mat|ters out.
Frugality, is, generally, the province of the husband; whose business is, to take care, his expences do not exceed his in|come: oeconomy, is, principally, the care of the wife; whose study is, by a prudent management, if possible, to make up every deficiency.
Cloaths, express, simply, that, which covers the body; and, includes all, for that purpose, from head to foot, and, nothing more; it is for this reason, we say, with propriety, the necessaries of life, consist in meat, drink, lodging, and, cloaths. Dress, has a more confined meaning; besides, that, of a bare covering, it, includes in its idea, a relation to form and fashion; as well to the ornaments, as the necessaries; thus, we say, a Spanish dress; a Hunga|rian dress; a rich dress, &c.
Though the sword and cockade, cannot be called cloaths; they are, nevertheless, part of the dress of an officer.
Of these words, that of wonder, implies, admiration at something extraordinary; astonishment, is, a sudden confusion of mind, arising from either fear or wonder; amaze|ment, implies, a greater degree of astonish|ment; consternation, such a degree, as almost borders upon horror, arising, chiefly, from dreadful circumstances; as to surprize, it means, only, being taken unawares.
Of all these words, wonder, and, surprize, are supposed to be nearest to each other, in signification; but, even between these, may be observed a difference; the first, be|ing generally, considered, as relative to things, good in themselves, the latter, with respect to either good or bad. We are apt to wonder when a bad man does good, and, be surprized, when a good man does ill.
Besides, wonder, includes in its idea, some small degree of consideration; sur|prize, does not.
If a mean-spirited person, whom I have insulted, should come to me, in order, to sollicit a reconciliation; I should naturally, say; I am surprized, at his coming, but, when I reflect on the meanness of his spi|rit, I do not much wonder.
Wonder and surprize, act upon the mind; astonishment and amazement, upon the senses; consternation, upon the heart.
The words astonishment, and, amazement, equally, with that of surprize are used, be the matter referred to, either good or bad; but, consternation, is never made use of, but, with respect to bad.
We wonder, and, are surprized, at the miraculous events of providence. We are astonished and amazed, at the extra|ordinary qualities of the magnet. An un|expected calamity, will throw us, often, into the greatest consternation.
A ready and willing distribution; accor|ding to our abilities, is the general idea of these three words; but, they have each, a particular one, as follows: liberality, im|plies, acts of mere giving or spending; generosity, acts of greatness; bounty, acts of kindness.
A liberal man, gives, freely; a generous man, nobly; and, a bountiful man, charitably.
Liberality, is a natural disposition: gene|rosity, proceeds from elevation of sentiment; bounty, from religious motives.
Liberality, denotes, freedom of spirit; ge|nerosity, greatness of soul: bounty, openness of heart.
Too great liberality, borders upon pro|fuseness; it then, becomes a fault. Gene|rosity, is a princely quality, and, if it does not exceed the bounds of our abilities, is, always, commendable. Bounty, is an amia|ble virtue, and never goes unrewarded.
These epithets denote a folly, which con|sists in being too much wedded to our own opinion; but, that, which is particulariz|ed by the word, prepossessed, seems to arise, from excess of prejudice, which seduces, and, causes us to think, what we have preconceived, the best; paying lit|tle or no regard to the opinions of others. In one opiniated, this folly seems to be, the effect of an over-fondness for his own notions, and, a contempt for those, of o|thers. Obstinacy, seems to spring, from an affected perverseness, which renders it intractable, and, which, against the rules of good-breeding, will never give way. An infatuated person, is supposed to be folly-struck, to suffer some loss of reason, which is the occasion of that inflexibility we observe in him. As to the word, head|strong, though, often, used as synonymous
with the above; it appears to me, to have a greater relation to a man's actions, inti|mating a blind determination, that stops his ears to every argument, and, renders him ungovernable.
Prepossessed, and, opiniated, imply, a mind, strongly, prejudiced; obstinate, and, head|strong, an unruly will; infatuated, a wan|dering in the dark.
Thus, to be prepossessed, opiniated, or, infa|tuated, is involuntary; to be obstinate, or, headstrong, voluntary.
A person prepossessed, follows his own opinions, after examining in some sort, those of others. One, who is opiniated, follows his own notions, implicitly, with|out ever listning to those of others. Obsti|nacy, pursues its own way, in spite of every opposition, and, often, through mere ca|price. Infatuation acts so strongly, as in some measure, to take away that reason, which is the light of the mind; and thus dark|ening it, leads a man into the grossest er|rors. The headstrong person, often, acts through a spirit of opposition, and seldom leaves his course, till he has completed his ruin.
We lift, in taking any thing up; we raise, in setting it upright, or, placing, ac|cording to some order. Thus, we lift a weight, &c. we raise the head; we raise a ladder; we raise a mast.
To institute, is, to create and form things, having some relation to the author, or, him, who first contrived, or, laid down the plan. To found, is, to give birth to such plan. To establish, is, to fix that plan, upon a lasting basis. To endow, is to pro|vide the necessaries, for its subsistence.
After universities were once instituted, colleges were founded, though not at first endowed; since which, those noble institu|tions, have been well established, by such en|dowments, as do honour to our country.
Chance, forms neither order or design; we neither attribute to it, knowledge, or, will, and, its events are, always, very uncertain. Fortune, lays plans and designs, but, with|out choice; we attribute to it, a will, with|out discernment, and, say, that it acts, blindly.
The chief of our successes, are more owing to chance, than skill: it is, some|times, a long while, before fortune will look upon us, with a favourable eye.
Lot, supposes, distinctions, and, a method of decision; we attribute to it, a hidden determination, which keeps us in doubt, till the instant, it shews itself. Destiny, forms designs, dispositions, and, connec|tions; we attribute to it, knowledge, will, and, power; its views are determined, and, unalterable.
Lot, decides; Destiny, ordains.
We observe many, so extremely rash, as to leave their lives, to the lot of a die. Whatever destiny decrees, is inevitable; be|cause we can neither force its disposition, nor see, beyond the reach of its light.
The word religion, is not considered here, as signifying the worship we owe to the Deity, and, the tribute of our dependance upon him; but, as denoting, a quality of the soul, and, a disposition of the heart, towards God: it is in this sense, only, that it is reputed as synonymous, with the other two. This disposition, then, prevents our fail|ing in any part of our duty, to the Supreme Being. Piety, makes us acquit ourselves with greater respect and zeal. Devotion, adds to this, outwardly, a serious, composed behaviour.
It is sufficient, for a worldly person, to be religious; piety, agrees best with persons, who pride themselves in virtue, and, as to devotion, it is the employ of people, per|fectly, recluse.
Religion, is more internal; piety, is, both internal, and, external; devotion, is, some|times, more external.
Where there is no integrity, there is no religion. He, who fails in his respect, for religious worship, fails in piety. Devotion, unless sincere, is mocking the Most High.
That knowledge, which we can reduce to practice, makes us able; that, which requires speculation, makes us skilful; that, which fills the memory, makes us learned.
We say, an able preacher or lawyer, a skilful mathematician or philosopher; a learned historian or civilian.
Able, seems to imply, something, more extensive; skilful, something, more pro|found; learned, something, more universal.
We become able, by long experience; skilful, by deep study; learned, by great reading.
These are names given to different do|minions, whence princes take the title of emperor, or, king; 'tis not, however, in this alone, that their difference consists.
It appears to me, that the word, empire, conveys an idea of a vast territory, com|posed of various people; whereas, that of kingdom, implies, one more bounded; and, intimates the unity of that nation, of which it is formed. It is, perhaps, from this difference of idea, that the different deno|mination of states, and, the titles their princes enjoy, take their rise; if it is not, the only reason, it is at least, the common one, as, we may remark, in the empire of Germany, the empire of Russia, and, in the Ottoman empire, of whose diversity of peo|ple and nations, the world is well acquaint|ed; on the other hand, we see, in those states which bear the name of kingdom, such, as France, Spain, Poland, &c. that
the division of provinces, does not destroy the unity of the people.
There is in kingdoms, a uniformity of fundamental laws; the difference of parti|cular laws, arising from different customs, which, in no respect, hurt the unity of po|litical administration. It is, from this uni|formity, or, single government, that the words king, and, kingdom, take their rise; for this reason, also, though there may be many persons in the administration, there is, nevertheless, but one prince, or, sove|reign minister: but, it is not the same in empires; one part of which, is, sometimes, governed by fundamental laws, very dif|ferent from those, by which, another part of the same empire is governed: this di|versity, destroys the unity of government; and, 'tis the submission of certain chiefs, to the command of a general superiour, that preserves the union of the state: it is, also, from this right of governing, that the words emperor, and, empire, are derived. Hence it is, that there are many sove|reigns, and, kingdoms, in the same empire.
The Roman dominion, was, originally, a kingdom; being formed of one single people; the name empire, was not given it,
till such time, as it brought under its sub|jection, other foreign ones, who became, though in themselves distinct nations, members of that state, and, over whom, the Romans established one government, tho' they had separate administrations.
The advantages we find in the society of a body politic, contributes as much, on the part of subjects, to form kingdoms, as the desire of governing, on the part of princes. It was ambition, alone, that formed the plan of empires, which were established, and, are supported, chiefly, by the force of arms.
These words are explained, and, taken here, in a moral and literal sense: They all signify, a disposition in the subject, by means of which, it is capable of acting, or, producing an effect: but, that of power, results from supply, or, liberty of acting; ability, rises from strength; faculty, from natural properties.
A man, without the aids of grace, has not, even, the power of doing good. Youth, is in want of wisdom, to deliberate; old age, of ability, to execute. The human mind has the faculty of reasoning.
Our power, frequently, diminishes; by long use. Age destroys our ability, to satisfy the passions, though it does not, our desires. The mind, will often, lose its
faculties, by accidents happening to the organs of the body.
The idea of pleasure, is, of a good, much more extensive than that, of delight; be|cause, this word relates to a greater num|ber of objects, than the other; whatever agreeably affects the mind, the heart, the senses, the fortune, &c. produces pleasure. The idea of delight, rises upon that of plea|sure, by force of opinion; but, is never|theless, a good, of much less extent, with respect to objects; it is limited, properly, to sensation, and, has a particular relation, to good entertainment.
True philosophy, finds pleasure in every occupation. There cannot be a greater delight, than, in the true relish of innocent mirth.
There is still another sense, in which these words are used; that, in which we say, of a person, that, he gives himself up, entirely, to pleasures; that, he enjoys the delights of the country. Taken in this last sense, they have, equally, as, in the other, their differences, and, particular niceties. Thus, pleasures, relate, more, to personal practice, such as customs, pastimes, and, recreations; delights, more, to the charms which are furnished by nature, art, and, opulence; such as, sweet habitations, stu|died conveniences, and, choice company.
Content, alludes, properly, to that in|ward serenity of heart, which renders the soul sedate and composed. Satisfaction, re|lates, more, to the passions; being a change, owing to some success, in which we hug ourselves.
No restless, or, turbulent man, can ever enjoy true content. Satisfaction, hardly, ever, accompanies immoderate ambition.
Excursion, supposes, a pleasurable expe|dition to some distant place, determined on, some time before. Ramble, implies, an irregular roving, in places unthought of, till the time we arrive there. By jaunt, is understood, a walk or journey; agree|able to the person, who takes it, but, held in contempt by others, or, considered, as an act of levity.
We say, innocent excursions; wild ram|bles; and, imprudent jaunts.
Excursions are necessary to persons, in a sedentary way of life, in order, to unbend the mind, and, exercise the body. Ram|bling, is an evident sign of an unsteady disposition. Jaunts, in parties of pleasure, have been, often, attended with calamitous consequences.
Nothing is more common, than the ge|neral use of these terms, to express one and the same thing, but, with great impro|priety: though every ale-house is, un|doubtedly, a public-house; it does not fol|low, that every public-house, is an ale-house. Public-house, is a more extensive expression, implying a house, open for the entertain|ment of the public; whereas, ale-house, is more limited, denoting, a particular species of public-houses, that, which is appropriated to the sale of beer. Thus, taverns, coffee|houses, &c. are public-houses; but, not ale|houses.
Gentlemen frequent many public-houses, without any sort of disgrace; but, it, al|ways, lessens their character, to be seen in an ale-house.
Contrariety to truth, is the general idea of these two words; but, that of lie, sup|poses, always, something criminal; where|as, that of falsehood, does not.
If questioned in a cause, wherein bound to tell the truth, we do not, we are guilty of a lie; if we deviate from truth, where there is no such obligation; it is no other, than a falsehood.
Lies are, always, sinful; falsehoods, many times, justifiable. A lie, is an offence to God, and, a disgrace to man. A bene|ficial falsehood, is preferable to a destruc|tive truth.
By sea, is understood, a large body of water, opposed to land, confined within certain bounds; by ocean, a much larger body, whose utmost verge is not particu|larly known. Thus, we say, the Baltic sea; the Mediterranean sea; the Adriatic sea; but, the Western ocean; the Atlantic ocean; the Pacific ocean: So, again, the wide sea; but, the vast ocean.
Of these two words, that of social, re|lates, more, to a christian-like disposition; that of sociable, more, to a familiar one.
'Tis goodness of heart, that makes a man social; sweetness of temper, that makes him sociable.
Humanity, benevolence, beneficence, friendship, &c. are the social virtues; good-nature, good-humour, condescenti|on, &c. are the qualities, that render sociable.
In the general sense of these words, luxury, implies, a giving one's self up to pleasure; voluptuousness, an indulgence in the same, to excess.
The luxury of a people, is the forerun|ner of their ruin. The voluptuous man wallows in sensuality, and, is void of the feelings of humanity.
Besides this distinction, there is one, far more delicate, and refined; and, which re|quires some attention to be thoroughly
conceived. Notwithstanding, custom has, always, made use of the word voluptuous|ness, in a bad sense, equally, with that of luxury; it appears to me, that it may, sometimes, be used, with propriety, in a good one. To comprehend this, properly, it must first, be considered, that luxury, im|plies, gross corporal indulgence only; vo|luptuousness, mental, as well as corporal. Thus, ebriety, epicurism, venery, &c. are each, a species of luxury; but, we may be voluptuous, even, in things innocent in themselves, as, in the rapturous enjoyment of a fine prospect; the studied delightful|ness of a rural retreat.
In this sense, lust, indulged to excess, is luxury; love, indulged to excess, voluptu|ousness.
A man may be sober, and, not temperate; temperate, yet, not abstemious.
In that sense, in which these words are reputed synonymous, sobriety, implies, pre|sent freedom from the power of strong li|quor; temperance, signifies, moderation in drinking; and, by abstemiousness, is under|stood, a refraining from all sorts of liquor, that may intoxicate.
Some men, who have the character of being sober, very little deserve it; as their freedom from intoxication, is more owing to strength of constitution, which resists the force of strong drink, than, to the vir|tue of temperance. An abstemious person, practices the virtue of self-denial, and, by a rigid abstinence from all liquors, that may hurt him, keeps his head clear, and his constitution sound.
A sober man, may drink much, and, not be affected with it. A temperate man, drinks little. An abstemious man, drinks not at all.
Note. By the word drink, here, is meant, the use of strong drink.
These words express different degrees of sourness; sharp, implies, sourness with|out astringency, or, a small degree of sourness. Thus, wine, beer, &c. grow, frequently, sharp, by long keeping. Sour, includes in its idea, little or no acrimony. Thus, cyder, vinegar, verjuice, &c. are sour, but, palatable; made so, for use. By acid, is understood, a corrosive sour; as the acid lemon; the acid vitriol, &c.
The general idea of these three words, is, incongruity; but, that of unreasonable, implies, rather, non-agreeableness to rea|son; that of inconsistent, contrariety of act, or, argument, where one part, destroys the other; that of absurd, seems to inti|mate, both.
Nothing can be more unreasonable, than requesting the services of another, to his detriment; he who complies with such request, would act very inconsistently; and, both, would commit the grossest ab|surdity.
He, who endeavours to raise his own name, by crushing that of another; acts unreasona|bly. He, who would be thought a man of sense and learning, and, strives to support that character, by a contumelious con|tempt of others; acts inconsistently. He, who is culpable in either of these particulars; acts absurdly.
Abstinence, implies, a forbearance from such food, as, is supposed to pamper the flesh; fast, a refraining from all sorts of food. Wednesdays and Fridays are ap|pointed, by the church, as, days of ab|stinence; Ash-Wednesday and Good-Fri|day, as fast-days.
By the word contiguous, is understood, so situated, as to touch; by adjacent, so lying, as having nothing, of the same kind, between: Thus, one house, or, one room, is contiguous to another; but, we say, an ad|iacent church; the adjacent village.
The true sense, then, of these words, is, that contiguous, implies, actual contact; adjacent, only, hard by.
Of these two words, one, is the in|tention; the other, the act; benevolence, being, the desire of doing good; beneficence, actual goodness.
A benevolent man, delights in beneficence.
Providence has, sufficiently, evinced its love to mankind, by planting in our nature, a benevolent disposition, and, re|warding the effect of that disposition, beneficence.
A slight or initial knowledge of any one, constitutes acquaintance. To be fami|liar, requires an acquaintance of some stand|ing. Intimacy, supposes, such an acquaint|ance, as is supported by friendship.
These words, then, rise one upon the other, by gradation; intimacy, resulting from close familiarity, which, proceeds from long acquaintance.
Those, who are apt to be familiar, on a slight acquaintance, will never acquire any degree of intimacy; as forwardness of that sort, generally, meets with the contempt of mankind.
By the word, Pillar, is understood, a supporter of some roof; by the word, co|lumn, a particular kind of pillar, that which is round: thus, every column, is a pillar, tho' every pillar, is not a column.
In most buildings, where the beauty of the architecture is studied; columns are gene|rally insulated; whereas, square pillars, are, for the most part, set within a wall, shew|ing, only, a fourth or fifth part, of their thickness.
The state of a hired servant, is servi|tude; that, of one mancipated, is slave|ry; the one, is voluntary; the other, in|voluntary. Servitude, is a kind of willing bondage, if the expression may be ad|mitted; Slavery, is a yoke, dreaded by all mankind.
Servitude, is, in some measure, honour|able: Slavery, generally, contemptible.
All persons, strictly speaking, are in a state of reputable servitude, with respect to one another; but, slavery, has been ever considered, as derogatory to the character of man.
The general idea of these words, is, in|nocent recreation; but, that of amuse|ment, implies, tranquil entertainment; that of diversion, tumultuous merri|ment.
Card-playing, concerts, plays, &c. are amusements; cricket, cudgel-playing, horse|races, &c. are diversions.
Some persons are so quietly inclined, as to find great amusement in reading; while others, are of such a riotous disposition, as to imagine all diversion, consists in uproar and confusion.
Satire, is general; being a poem, in which, the folly and wickedness of the times, are severely, censured; written with an intent to reform. Lampoon, is a po|em also, but, personal; containing in|vective reflections against one person in particular; with a design, only, to vex.
A satire, then, is commendable; a lam|poon, scurrilous. The lash of satire, has been, often, found more beneficial to a state, than the scourge of power. The writer of a lampoon, may be well compared to a bee, whose sting, wounds but slightly, and, whose malicious act, is sure to be pu|nished by the whole swarm.
By these three words, is meant a high building, raised above the main edifice; but, that of steeple, is more general; those, of spire, and, tower, more particular.
Steeple, implies, the turret of a church; be it of what form soever. By spire, is understood, a steeple, rising taper to the top. By tower, is implied, a square steeple.
Spire, and, tower, then, are certain kinds of steeples. The steeple of St. Bride's church, London, is a spire; the steeple of St. Andrew's, a tower.
The words, steeple, and, spire, are never applied, but to churches: The word, tow|er, is, sometimes, made use of, with res|pect to other large edifices.
In former times, palaces, and gentle|men's seats, were, commonly, built with
towers; such as, the tower, at St. James's, London; the tower, at Lord Rochfort's feat, at St. Ofyth, Essex.
Spires, are generally, erected upon tow|ers. Bells, are, usually, hung in towers; weather-cocks, commonly, fixed on spires.
The sense, in which these words are held as synonymous, is that, of a certain system of divine faith and worship. But, that, which religion, implies, seems to be one, more general, and, established; that, which, is understood by persuasion, more particu|lar, and, vague.
By persuaston, then, is meant a deviation from some settled religion.
The divine systems of the church of England, and, of the church of Rome,
are religions; those, of a Presbyterian, and, a Lutheran, are persuasions.
Custom has made the word, letter, of more general use, than epistle: letter, be|ing quite familiar; epistle, rather pedantic: but, this is not the only observation, I would make. Letter, appears to me, more proper, when the matter relates, to private correspondence; epistle, when the business is public. Thus, we say, letters of friendship; letters of business; but, if these letters relate to public matters, or ap|pear in print, we may, with elegance, call them epistles; as Paul's epistles; Ovid's epistles; Melmoth's epistles.
The present age has made an innovati|on, with respect to these two words, con|verting the substantive gold into an adjec|tive; and, altering the sense of golden, which, in reality, implies, made of gold, into that of gilt. In this corrupted sense, then, I am obliged to consider them; as such, the word, gold, relates to the metal, of which a thing is made; that of golden, to the hue, it bears. Thus, we say, a gold ring; a gold watch; a gold buckle; but, the golden lion; the golden head; the golden lamp. That, these ideas are, often, con|fused, is very evident; as, we, sometimes, hear of a golden cup, or, a golden ewer. Should it be said, such a one, stole a golden cup, from the house, with the golden lamp; we must either imagine, that, both cup
and lamp were of solid gold; or, that, they were only gilt.
Endeavour, is, labour directed to some certain end; effort, is, a laborious endea|vour.
When we would accomplish a design, we use our endeavours; if we meet with any considerable and unexpected obstacles in the way, we apply our utmost ef|forts.
By mute, is understood, incapability of speech; by silent, a voluntary forbear|ance.
In eastern countries, nobles have mute attendants. Silence, is a mark of wis|dom.
A man had, sometimes, better be, abso|lutely, mute, than, inadvertently betray himself; as is, frequently the case, by too great a volubility; and, which Silence, on|ly, would prevent.
Tho' the distinction of these words, may be thought useless to the general rea|der; yet, to him, it is more parti|cularly, serviceable; they being sel|dom, if ever, confused by the carpenter, or, builder. By beam, then, is meant, the main piece of timber, that supports the house; by rafter, the secondary timber, which is let into the great beam: To make them better understood, beams are those timbers, that girt the top of a building; rafters, those, that support the tiling.
With respect to the two first; room, is a general expression; chamber, a particular one. Room, implies, any divided part of a house. Chamber, is a room, appropri|ated to sleep in.
By apartment, is understood, a set of rooms, convenient to dwell in.
We say, a spacious room; a snug cham|ber; a commodious apartment.
Some chambers, are so contrived, as to conceal the bed, and, make the room, fit to entertain company. Many families of slen|der fortune, choose rather to live in elegant apartments, than, in indifferent houses.
The present signification of these words, is, that house, means, a dwelling, distinct by itself; tenement, part of a house, di|vided off, for the use of another family.
We say, a spacious, magnificent house; a snug, pretty tenement.
Large houses, which the owners find dif|ficult to set, to one family, are, frequently, converted into small tenements, and let out, to many.
Lodging, relates, more, to a set of rooms, appropriated to a family, in some private house; apartment, more to a convenient dwelling, in some public edifice.
The first or second story of a house, let out, is called a lodging: any particular range of rooms, in a large building, so al|lotted, as to contain a number of families, one over another, is called, an apartment. As, the apartments, in an hospital; the apartments, in an inn of court; the apart|ments, in a palace.
It is, in some respect, mean, to live, in a lodging; but, persons of great fortune, have dwelt, with credit, in apartments.
Considering these words, in a religious sense; that of fervency, seems to rise upon warmth; warmth implying, a flame of devo|tion, in opposition to coolness; fervency, great heat of mind, as opposed to cold|ness.
Warmth, is, in some measure, necessa|ry; it will make us punctual, in the exer|cise of our duty, thro' a sense of gratitude and affection: fervency, has a dangerous tendency; it will, if not kept within due bounds, drive men into enthusiasm.
Warmth, is the offspring of a good heart; fervency, of a weak mind.
Warmth, makes the heart beat high in the cause of God. Fervency, will carry us into a vain considence, of having some intercourse with the Deity.
By plenty, is understood, enough, and some little to spare; by abundance, more than enough; or, a considerable deal over.
He, that wants but a yard of cloth, and, possesses a yard and a quarter, has plen|ty: he, that needs but one yard, and, has several, may be said to have, abundance.
A contented man, will be satisfied, tho' he should fall short of plenty; but, the co|vetous man, is still grasping for more, even, though he enjoys abundance.
Surmise, is, imagination in general, with|out certain knowledge: Suspicion, is ima|gination of some ill, without proof.
Surmise, is, often, used, with respect to things, good in themselves; suspicion, ne|ver, but, with regard to things, that are ill.
Surmise, is, an imperfect notion, or, a kind of conjecture, rising in a great mea|sure from curiosity; suspicion, supposes, a degree of fear and jealousy, concerning things not known.
We should never build an opinion upon bare surmise, which is, at best, but a san|dy foundation. Suspicion, is, in reality, its own tormentor; raising in the mind, a thousand apprehensions, which is no easy matter, afterwards, to quell.
Sequel, is the succeeding part; conclusi|on, the close.
The sequel continues; the conclusion ends.
A story is unintelligible, without its se|quel; but, not so, without its conclusion; the conclusion, being comprehended, in few words; the sequel, requiring many.
The sequel, in part, forms the story; the conclusion, puts the finishing stroke to it.
Before we pass any judgment on what we hear, we should attend to the sequel, and wait till the conclusion.
The act of spreading abroad, is the general idea of these two words; but, that of disperse, seems to imply, some sort of order and care: that of scatter, means, to throw about, loosely and carelesly.
In order, to sow a field, we disperse the seed, in different places. He, who scatters his wealth, without making a proper use of it; will one day come to want.
To disperse, is, always, voluntary: to scatter, is, frequently, involuntary.
When a family of children are come to years of maturity, they, generally, disperse themselves into various parts. It is, al|most, impossible to carry a load of hay, from one place to another, without scatter|ing some of it.
That, which has not been used, is new; that, which is not stale, is fresh; that, which has just happened, is recent.
We say, of cloaths, that, they are new; of topics, that, they are fresh; of actions, that, they are recent.
A thought, is new, by the turn we give it; fresh, by the sense, it expresses; recent, by the time, of its production.
New things carry with them a credita|ble appearance. Fresh matters, are food for tatlers. We are more affected with re|cent stories, than, with those, of long date.
These words have been treated of be|fore, when that of expression, was consi|dered, as implying, a phrase of speech; but, there being another sense, in which, it is used, as synonymous with word, it may not be unnecessary to shew the diffe|rence between them: and, as the distincti|on is very delicate, we must view it with attention.
Expression, then, represents the meaning: a word expresses the idea, which we em|ploy to form that meaning. It is in order to use the expression, that the word is esta|blished. The first, is natural, general, and, universal among all men; the second, is arbitrary, and, different according to the varied custom of the people. The YES, and, the No, are, always, and in all pla|ces,
the same expressions; that is, they carry the same meaning; but, that mean|ing is not expressed by the same words, in all languages, and, on all occasions.
We have the gift of expression, and, the knowledge of words: we give a turn, and, justness to the one; we choose, and, range the others.
The production of sense, and, formati|on of a proposition, are what we expect from an expression: but, a word, is, com|monly, of no other value, than to make a part of that sense, or, of that proposi|on. Thus, expressions, differ among themselves, according to the difference of the senses they bear; and, words differ a|mong themselves, either, by the simple ar|ticulation of the voice, or, by the dif|rent ideas they convey. A word, is no otherwise bad, than, by its not being in use, in the polite world.
A variety of expressions, proceeds not, al|ways, from the fertility, and extent of the mind. An abundance of words, enriches
not the language, unless those words convey an abundance of ideas.
Not, barely, expresses the negation; no, strengthens, and, seems to affirm it. The first, often, denies the thing, in part only, or, with limitation; the second, denies it, always, absolutely, wholly, and, without reserve. Thus we say, he has not money; he has not patience; meaning, he is not over|burthened with either: but, when we say, he has no money; he has no patience; we would be understood to say, he has none at all.
It is on account of this limitation, that the word not, is, generally, used in com|pany, with those words, that mark, either
the degree of quality, or, quantity; such as, MUCH, VERY, ONE, and the like.
There is not, commonly, much money to be found, in the possession of men of letters. The major part of those, who fre|quent divine service, are not, very devout. It, often, happens, that he, who has not one single penny, in his pocket, is much happier, than many rich men.
These words here, are considered, in no other sense, than, as they relate to lan|guage; in which, that of great, seems to me, to have more relation to the learning, or, the nature of the subjects we treat of; and, that of subtime, more, to the spirit and manner, in which we treat them.
Lock, on Human Understanding, is a very great work; Milton's Paradise Lost, is very sublime one.
Great, or, scientific pieces, are, often, starched, and, discover the labour of the author; but, sublime pieces, tho' compos|ed with a great deal of art, seem, always, natural.
Studied words, known only to the learn|ed, joined to profound and metaphysical reasonings, form the great, or, elevated stile; expressions, equally just and brilli|ant, joined to beautiful thoughts, finely and nobly turned, constitute the sublime.
It is not possible, for every work to be great; but, it may be sublime: sublime works, however, are more rare, than great ones.
To excell, supposes, a comparison; is, being superior to all of the like kind; ex|cludes equals, and, is applied to all sorts of objects. To be excellent, is, being in the highest degree, without any sort of comparison; it admits of equals, and, a|grees best with things of taste. Thus, we say, that Titian excelled in colouring; Michael Angelo in design; and, that Gar|rick, is an excellent actor.
Persons, who excell in any particular art, gain a name. The more excellent, the meats, the more dangerous, the feast|ing.
A lazy man, never goes through with an undertaking. An indolent man, will un|dertake nothing. The first, wants cou|rage and resolution; he stops, he turns, he fears, and, changes, presently. The se|cond, wants will and emulation; one can|not animate, or, make him sensi|ble.
The lazy man, is a burthen to society. The indolent man, is an enemy to him|self.
As much as these words differ in in their meaning, they are, nevertheless, used, fre|quently, to express the same idea; the ab|surdity of which is gross. We name, to distinguish in conversation: we call, as for help, when wanted.
The Lord called every living creature be|fore Adam, and, he named them.
It is not proper, to name all things by their names; nor, call all sorts of people to our assistance.
Qualities, form the character of per|sons; talents, are their ornament. The first, render them, either, good or bad, and have a great influence over their morals. The second, make them useful or enter|taining, and go a great way towards mak|ing them esteemed.
We may use the word, quality, either, in a good or bad sense; but, we cannot take that of talent, in any other, than a good one.
Man, is a mixture of good and bad quali|ties, sometimes, so strange as to possess the extremes of each: There are persons, possessed of such talents, as make them|selves
admired, and, yet, give some pain to others, who would be witnesses of them; but, in this case, I should think it more eligible, to endure the caprice of the enter|taining, than the disagreeableness of the tiresome.
The qualities of the heart, are, more es|sential; those of the mind, more brilliant. Talents, which are of use in necessity, are more necessary; those, which conduce to entertainment, are best rewarded.
Our qualities render us, either, beloved or despised. Our talents, make our compa|ny coveted.
Excellent qualities, joined to rare talents, constitute great worth.
We extol a person, to procure him the esteem of others, or, raise his reputation; we praise him, to testify the esteem, we have for him, or, to applaud him.
To extol, is, to say a great deal in the fa|vour of others, and, ascribe to them great qualities, whether they possess them or not. To praise, is, to approve, with a kind of admiration, whatever they say or do, whether they deserve it or no.
We extol the abilities of a man; we praise his conduct.
The word, extol, supposes, that the person, of whom we speak, and the per|son, to whom we speak, are diffrent; which the word, praise, does not.
Quacks, never fail to extol themselves; they promise, always, more than they can perform; and, pride themselves in an ima|ginary esteem. Conceited persons, fre|quently praise themselves, and, are gene|rally well satisfied with that praise.
It is far more ridiculous, in my opinion, for a man to praise himself, than extol him|self: for, we extol ourselves, through a de|sire of having the esteem of others, which is a vanity, one may look over; but, when we are guilty of self-praise, it is done, through the great esteem we have for our|selves, which is a pride insufferable.
Darkness, seems to signify, something re|al, in opposition to light: Obscurity, is, a mere privation of brightness.
We say, often, of darkness, that, it is thick; of obscurity, that, it is great.
Considering them, in a figurative sense, darkness, implies, a state of life, in which, we are shut up from the world; as, the state of a hermit; the state of a recluse. By obscurity, is understood, a state of retire|ment, or, a state unnotic'd; as, when we re|treat into the country, far from the obser|vation of the public eye.
He, who lives in a state of darkness, is useless to society, and, dead, as it were, to mankind. He, who lives in a state of obscurity, enjoys a serenity, unknown to him, who revels in the open world.
We feel, lightly; we handle, with the full hand.
We feel, a column, to know, whether it be made of marble or wood; we handle stuff, to know what strength it has, or, what body it is of.
It, often, happens, that a thing, though disagreeable to the eye, shall be agreeable to feel. There is no pleasure in handling any thing, that is rough.
Translation, relates to the turning into modern language; version, into ancient. Thus, the English Bible, is a translation; but, the Latin, Greek, Arabic, and, Sy|riac Bibles, are versions.
Translations, to be perfectly good, should be neither, more or less, ornamented, than the originals. The antient versions of scrip|ture, have acquired, almost, as much au|thority, as the Hebrew text.
A new translation of Virgil, and, Horace, would, still, please, notwithstanding the ma|ny, that have appeared. The time, when the version of the Septuagint was made, is unknown.
Although the first, of these words, is not in very general use, with respect to the sense, in which, I would here consider it; yet, it is not so entirely disused, but, that I may characterise it, without fear of impropriety. As to the second word, it is not here taken in all its significations, but, in that only, in which, it is used as synonymous with the first.
Uselessness, and, little or no value, make a thing vile. Defect, and, loss of merit, render it bad. Thence it is, we say, in a mystic sense, that, we are vile creatures; intimating, that, we are nothing, with respect to God, or, that, he does not stand in need of our services; and, that, we say, he is a bad christian, who is void of faith, or, who has, through sin, lost the grace of baptism.
He, is a vile subject, who is fit for no|thing, or, who cannot be of any service to the community. He, is a bad subject, who will not attempt to do good, but, gives way to every vicious inclination.
A vile man, is contemptible, and, be|comes the outcast of the world. A bad man, is condemnable, and, draws upon himself the hatred of every honest per|son.
In speaking of useful things, as stuffs, linen, and, the like, the word vile, rises upon that of bad. That, which has been much used, but, will still serve, upon an occasion, is bad: that, which cannot be used any more, or, that, we cannot use, with credit, is vile.
Bad cloaths are not, always, a mark of poverty. There is, sometimes, more pride under a covering of vile rags, than, under that, of gold and purple.
Matter, is that, which we use, in the work; subject is that, on which, we work.
The matter, of a discourse, consists in the words, in the phrases, and, in the thoughts; the subject, is that, which we explain, by those words, those phrases, and, those thoughts.
The reasonings, the passages of holy writ, the characters of passions, and, the maxims of morality, are the matter of ser|mons; the mysteries of faith, and, the precepts of the gospel, ought to be the subject.
In order, to mask, it is necessary, to cover the face with a false visage; but, to disguise, it is sufficient, to change the common appearance.
We mask ourselves, to go to a ball. We disguise ourselves, to bring about an intrigue.
The sight of something distant, is the general idea of these words; but, that of view, seems, in my opinion, to imply a sight, more extensive, than, that of pro|pect.
Thus, we say, a little, or, confined prospect; but, a long, or, extended view.
Besides, there seems to be less variety in a view, than, in a prospect. Thus, we say, the pleasing prospect of the neighbouring villages. The fine view of a distant moun|tain.
A hovel, is a small place, indifferently, run up, with mud walls, in order, to preserve things from the weather: a shed, is, a sup|ported roof only; a place covered, over|head, but, open, on the sides; generally erected as a dry standing-place for carts, or, other things.
Hovels, are seldom seen, but, in country places; sheds, frequently, in towns.
The poor, in many parts of the king|dom, are reduced to the necessity of dwel|ling
in huts, very little better, than hovels. Happy is the traveller, in bad weather, to take shelter, even, under a shed.
By oval, we mean, that, which is regu|larly so; by oblong, that, which resembles the longitudinal section of an egg, whe|ther regular or not.
Tables are, frequently, made oblong, tho' not, exactly, oval.
We may say, with propriety, that an oval, is oblong; though custom will not ad|mit us, to invert the expression.
By mist, is understood, a thin cloud, hanging very low; or, rain, so extremely small, as not to be perceived in drops. By fog, is implied, a moist vapour, near the surface of the land; or, water, so dense, as to obscure the sight.
The mist, falls; the fog, rises.
A mist, prevents our seeing things at some distance; a fog, those, immediately before us.
Some days, are so extremely misty, as, to obstruct prospects; others, so very foggy, as, to be unhealthy, and, mislead the traveller in his way.
Genteel, implies, something above the common run; elegant, means, beautiful without grandeur.
Genteel, carries with it the idea of some|thing, reputable; elegant, of something, tasty.
By a house, genteely furnished, is under|stood, a house, containing every necessary, good, and, creditable; by, elegantly furnish|ed, is meant, genteely, and, in such a man|ner, as, to please without elevation.
Genteel, relates, more, to the neatness, and, goodness of the furniture; elegant, more, to the disposition of it.
A man's notions, are discovered in the genteelness of his house; his taste, in the elegance.
In order, to beat, we must redouble the blows; but, to strike, we need give only one.
We are never beaten, without being struck; but, we are often struck, without being beat.
We never beat, but, with design; we, often, strike, by accident.
Wise men have said, that the rod should be, always, on the back of children: those therefore, who have the bringing of them up, should never think differently: how|ever, we are to interpret these words, no otherwise, than alluding to fear, not ima|gining, that we are to be, constantly, beating them; for nothing is more opposite to good education, than the example of violent con|duct, and, severe discipline. The precep|tor who strikes his pupil, does it, oftener, through hastiness of temper, than, design of correction.
The coward, will fire up, upon the least offence, but, proceed no farther. The poltron, is so meanly spirited, as, through want of courage, to take every insult, calmly.
The coward, draws back; the poltron, dares not advance.
Cowards, they say, will fight, when des|perate. We must not depend on the suc|cour of a poltron.
We think, quietly, and, orderly, to be, thoroughly, acquainted with our object. We study, with inquietude, and, without order, to attain our wishes. We muse, deeply, to pass away the time agree|ably.
The philosopher, thinks, on the arrange|ment of his system. A person, in difficul|ty, studies, for expedients, how to get out of it. The solitary lover, muses, on his mistress.
I have, often, remarked, that obscure things, frequently, appear clear to those, who know not how to think properly; they comprehend, but, are not able to ex|plain. It is an act of prudence, to study to avert such evils, as threaten us. The pleasure of musing, is, perhaps, most agree|able, but, less useful.
The sign, makes known, and, is, some|times, natural. The signal, gives notice, and, is, always, arbitrary. The appearances of the face, are, commonly, the signs, of what passes in the heart. The hoisting of a flag, in one ship, is, a signal to another.
We make ourselves understood, by the deaf, by signs. The readiest way of making persons understand us, at a distance, is, by signals.
When, speaking of a thing, we make use of the word, only, we mean, there is no other of the same kind; when that of, alone, that, it is not accompanied with any other.
A child, that has neither brother or sister, is, an only child. A person when by himself, is said, to be alone.
That thing must be very rare, of which we can find only one. Nothing is more tiresome, than to be, always, alone.
As different as these words may appear, they have, nevertheless, been, and, are still, frequently, used, as synonymous, when in|tended to imply courtship. It may not be then unnecessary, to point out their pecu|liar ideas.
Love, is more sanguine, than gallantry; having for its object, the person, whom we are studious to please, through a view of possessing; and, whom we love as much, on her account, as our own: it takes possession of the heart, suddenly, and, owes its birth, to a certain something, which enchains the sentiments, and, draws the esteem, with|out any examination, or, information. Gallantry, is more sensual, than love; hav|ing for its object, the sex; we enter into in|trigues, in hopes of enjoying it, and, love,
more on our own account, than on that, of our mistress. It acts upon the senses, much more than upon the heart, and, is more, owing to constitution, and, com|plexion, than, to the force of beauty.
The one, has a power of making those persons agreeable in our eyes, who study to please the object of our love, provided, they in no respect raise our jealousy. The other, engages us to keep an eye upon all those, who are capable, either, of forward|ing, or, hurting our designs; and, to watch them, as we would a rival, taking every advantage within our reach.
The first, leaves us not the liberty of choice; it commands in the beginning, as a master, and, reigns, afterwards, as a tyrant, till we are accustomed to its chains, by length of time; or, till they are broken by the efforts of powerful reason, or, the caprice of continued vexation. The second, suffers, sometimes, another passion to get before it; reason and inte|rest, often, hold the bridle, and, make it give way to our situation, and, affairs.
Love, attaches us, solely, to one person, and, delivers up our heart, without reserve,
so as to engage it, wholly, and, make every other object, of what beauty or merit so|ever, indifferent to us. Gallantry, rivets us, generally, to all persons, who are either beautiful or agreeable, and, unites us to those, who make the least returns to our eagerness and desire; in such a manner, however, as leaves us no liking for others.
It appears to me, that love, delights in difficulties; so far from being weakened by obstacles, they, generally, increase it; and, we make it one of our most serious engagements. As for gallantry, it banishes formality, is less accustomed to difficulty, and, is often entered into, merely, for amusement. It is for this reason, we ob|serve more spirit of gallantry in men, than love: for, it is rare to find a first love, fol|lowed by a second; and, I doubt, whether ever it can be said, by a third: but, gal|lantries are, sometimes, without number, and, succeed each other, till that age ar|rives, when their source is dried up.
There is, always, honesty in love; but, it is troublesome and capricious; we con|sider it, now-a-days, as a distemper, or, as a weakness of mind. In gallantry, there
is a degree of knavery, but, it is free and good humoured; and, is become the taste of the age.
Love, designs on the imagination, the flattering idea of eternal happiness, in the entire and constant possession of the object we love. Gallantry, fails not to paint there the agreeable image of a singular pleasure, in the enjoyment of the object we pursue; but, neither the one, nor, the other, co|pies after nature; experience shewing us, that their colours, however agreeable, are, equally, deceitful. All the difference we find, is, that love, being more serious, the unfaithfulness of its pencil, gives greater offence; and, the recollection of the pain it has given, in seeing it so ill rewarded, creates our disgust; whereas, gallantry, be|ing more wanton, we are less sensible of the fallacy of its colouring, and, the vain notions we have of being arrived at the end of its designs, reconcile any disappoint|ments, we may have met with.
In love, it is the heart, which, princi|pally, tastes the pleasure; the mind, making itself a slave, without any regard; and, the satisfaction of the senses, contributing less
to the sweet enjoyment, than a certain con|tentedness of soul, which produces the charming idea, of being in the possession of what we love, and, receiving the most sensible proofs of a tender return. In gal|lantry, the heart, is less affected with the object; the mind, being more free, to in|dulge itself, and the senses, more atten|tive to their own satisfaction, partake the pleasure with greater equality; voluptuous|ness, contributing more to its enjoyment, than the delicacy of sentiments.
When we are too much tormented by the caprices of love, we endeavour to disen|tangle ourselves, and, become indifferent. When we are too fatigued by the exercises of gallantry, we take a resolution to desist, and, become sober.
Excess makes love degenerate into jea|lousy; and, gallantry, into libertinism. In the first case, we are subject, to trouble of mind; in the second, we are in danger, of destroying our health.
Upon the whole, love, is, generally, justi|fiable; gallantry, always, blameable.
We make use of the word, lower, with respect to diminishing the height of things, or, to certain motions of a body; we lower a beam; we lower the sails of a ship; we lower a building; we lower the eyes, the head. We use the expression let down, with regard to things, made to cover others, and, which being lifted up, leave them uncovered; we let down the lid of a trunk; we let down the eyelids; we let down the lappets, or, the gown.
The contrary, of to lower, is to raise; that, of to let down, is, to lift up.
To lower, is in use, in the neuter sense; to let down, is not.
Rivers lower in the summer. Tall persons are obliged to lower their heads, when they pass through small door-ways. It is dan|gerous, to let ourselves down, as advan|tages, are, frequently, taken of it. It is not
a prince's letting himself down, even to fa|miliarity, that acquires him the reputati|on of being good; but, the mildness and equity of his government.
A Plant, is, any vegetable production arising from seed; but, seems confined to such, as are not very large. Thus, saplings are the largest, that should be called plants. Herbs, are those plants, whose stalks are soft, and, have no woody substance in them, such as, grass, hemlock, &c.
The knowledge of plants, is both useful and entertaining. There are many medi|cinal qualities in herbs.
Things grow, by the nourishment, they receive; they increase, by the addition, that is made to them, of the same kind. Corn grows; the harvest increases.
The better, we manure the land; the faster, the trees grow; and, the more, our revenues increase.
The word, grow, signifies, only, the augmentation, independant of that, which occasions it. The word, increase, gives us to understand, that, that augmentation is caused, by a fresh quantity which, casually, joins it. Thus, to say, that, the river grows larger, is, to say, only, that, the water is risen, without expressing, that, it is become so, by the arrival of an additional quantity of water: but, to say, that, the river is increased, is, to say, that, it is swelled, by
a fresh quantity of water. This distinction, is, extremely, delicate; it is for this reason, therefore, that we make use of the words, grow, and, increase, indifferently, on many occasions, where that delicacy of choice, is of no great importance, as in the exam|ple I have mentioned; for, we may say, with equal propriety, that a river either grows larger, or, increases, although, each of these words, has its particular idea. But there are other occasions, where, it is pro|per, and, sometimes, even, necessary, to pay a regard to the peculiar idea, and, make some kind of choice between these terms, according to the strength of mean|ing, we would give our thoughts: for ex|ample, when we would be understood to say, speaking of the passions, that, they are in our nature, and, that the nourish|ment, we take to support life, at the same time, gives strength to them; the use of the word, grow, would be elegant. Other|wise, we might employ that of increase, with respect, either to the passions, or, the talents of the mind.
The passions, in general, receive birth, and, grow, with the man; but, there are some, which exist, but, for a time, and which, after having increased, to a certain age, diminish, and, disappear, with the powers of nature: there are others, which last the whole life, and, which are always increasing, so as to be stronger in old age, than in youth.
Love, which forms itself in infancy, grows, with age. True courage, never brags; it increases, at the sight of danger. Ambition grows, proportionably, as our wealth increases.
It is easy, to see, through all these ex|amples, that, one of these words will agree in some places, in which the other will not: for what person is so little delicate, in ex|pressing himself, as, not to perceive, by his natural taste, if not on reflexion, that, there is more propriety in saying, ambition grows, proportionably, as our wealth in|creases, than to say, ambition increases, pro|portionably, as our wealth grows. If it is not difficult to perceive this delicacy, it is,
to explain the reason of it: to do this, I must express myself, a little metaphysically, and, have recourse to such ideas, as may enable me to explain it: these ideas, however, shall be no other, than the proper ones. Since wealth consists in many different things, which unite them|selves in the possession of one single person; the word, increase, which, as I have said before, denotes the addition of a fresh quantity, agrees better with it, than, that of grow, which, precisely marks the aug|mentation of one single thing, caused by some sort of nourishment. For this same reason, the word, grow, agrees best with ambition, it being a single passion, to which wealth serves, as a kind of nutriment, to support it, and, make it act, with more force and ardour.
Corporeal things grow, by an inward and mechanical addition, which is, in effect, their proper and real nutriment; they in|crease, by the bare outward addition of a fresh quantity of the same matter. Spi|ritual things grow, by a kind of nourish|ment,
considered in a figurative sense; they increase, by the addition of degrees, they bear.
An egg does not begin to grow, in the ovaria, till it teems, that is, till fruitful|ness, has made it fit, to receive nourish|ment; nor, does it leave the body, till its bulk is, sufficiently, increased, to cause an alteration in the membrane, that en|closes it.
Our pride grows, in proportion, as we exalt ourselves; and, increases, sometimes, till we become contemptible in the eyes of the world.
To change our posture from recumbent, to erect; is the true meaning of the verb, to rise; whereas, to get up, implies, rather, to climb: thus, we rise, from the ground; we rise, from our bed; we rise, from our seat. We get up stairs; we get up a lad|der.
The sense, in which these words are re|puted synonymous, does not, instantly, pre|sent itself to the reader; the first glance of the eye, that shews us a copy, made after an original work, and a model, made as the original of a work, throws them, so far dis|tant from each other, as, not to admit the least similitude; but, a second reflection, will make us sensible, that custom has used these two words, under one common idea, on many occasions; and, that, to denote equally, the original, after which a work is made, and, the work, made after the original; copy, having been understood, as well as model, to mean the first work, by which we, form the second: and, model, as
well as copy, the second work, formed after the first. Thus, then, they have been con|sidered, as, in a manner, doubly synony|mous; but, they have each their peculiar ideas, as follow.
In the first sense, copy, should be never used, but, with respect, to the manuscript of an author, upon which the printer works. Model, may be used, on every other occa|sion, as well, with respect to morality, as the arts.
A proof sheet is not, often, very incor|rect, unless the copy is so. Booksellers, who, often, refuse to purchase excellent co|pies; frequently, buy bad ones, at too great a price. There is no perfect model of virtue. I should imagine, that the arts and sciences would gain more ground, if artists and authors would pursue more their own genius, than imitate the models, they meet with.
In the second sense, copy, is used, for painting; model, for relief. A copy, ought to be faithful; a model, just. The second, of these words, seems to suppose, a greater resemblance, than the first.
Some copies, are so, extremely well per|formed, as, to be little inferior to the ori|ginals. Models of antiquity, are, frequent|ly, more expressive, than modern origi|nals.
The common idea of these two words, is, that of a separation made, by the force of the mind, in the consideration of ob|jects; but, difficult as it is, to find out their peculiar ideas, and, determine their respective characteristics, I have attempted it, in the best manner, I am able.
Precision, then, separates things, distinct in themselves, in order, to prevent the confusion, which arises from a jumble of
ideas. Abstraction, if I may use the expression, separates things, that are in themselves inseparable, in order, to consider them apart, independent one of another. The first, is the effect of the justness, and, clearness of the understand|ing, which prevents our adding any thing, that is useless, or, foreign to the subject we treat of; consequently, it will agree, in every circumstance, either, with respect to affairs, or, sciences. The second, is the effort of a metaphysical mind, which re|moves, from the point of view all, that we would detach from the subject; it in some respect mutilates, but, sometimes, contributes to the discovery of truth, and, sometimes, draws it into error. We may however use it, but, with care.
It appears to me, that precision, is, more applicable to things, which may not only be considered apart, but, may be con|ceived, to be one, without the other, such as, for example, alms, and, charity; and, abstraction, more particularly, to things, which may indeed be considered apart, but, which cannot be conceived to
be one, without the other, as, body, and, size. Thus, the design of precision, is, to prevent a wandering from the subject, re|moving, for that purpose, all, that is foreign to it; and, that of abstraction, to obviate our entering into the utmost ex|tent of it, considering only one part, with|out any regard to the other.
There is no science more certain, or, more clear than, that of geometry; it mak|ing very exact precisions: There are, how|ever, certain metaphysical abstractions, blend|ed with it, which make geometricians fall into errors, equally, with others; not in|deed when size and quantity are in questi|on, but, with respect to physics.
Our ideas cannot be too precise; but, it is, sometimes, dangerous, to have them too abstracted. The first, is the surer way of arriving at the truth, in science, and, our aim, in affairs; whereas, the second, often, puts us farther from both.
Precision is the gift of nature, receiving its birth with the mind; those, who are endowed with it, are excellently qualified for conversation; we listen to them with
pleasure, because they listen to us, in re|turn: they understand what is said to them, equally, as they make themselves under|stood. Abstraction, is the fruit of study, produced by profound application; those, who are familiar with it, talk of common things, sometimes, with too great refine|ment; simple, and, natural subjects, are in their conversation, very difficult to com|prehend, in the manner, they speak of them.
Precise ideas, embellish common lan|guage, and, make it in my opinion, sub|lime. Abstracted ideas, are very tiresome, they seem to me, to be of little use, except, in the schools, or, in certain learned de|bates.
We express by precise ideas, the most simple, and, most sensible truths; but, we cannot prove them otherwise, than, by ideas, very abstracted.
Justness, prevents our running into er|rors: precision, removes every thing, that is useless.
The precision of discourse, is, a common mark of the justness, of the mind.
The astronomer, is, thoroughly, acquaint|ed with the course, and, motion of the celes|tial bodies; the astrologer, reasons upon their influence. The first, observes the state of the heavens, marks the order of time, the eclipses and revolutions which arise from laws, established by the first spring of nature, in that immense number of spheres of which the universe consists; and, hardly ever errs in his calculations. The second, foretels events, casts nativi|ties, prognosticates rain, cold, heat, and, all the variations of the weather; but sel|dom, if ever, calculates to any purpose. The one, explains what he knows, and, merits the esteem of the learned; the
other, vends his imaginations, and, seeks the admiration of the vulgar.
We apply ourselves to astronomy, through a desire of knowledge. We dive into astrology, from disquietude about events to come.
The generality of people, look upon astronomy, as a science of mere curiosity, and, of little utility; not reflecting, that, its object, is the arrangement of seasons, the regulation of time, and, the various motions of the heavenly bodies; all which, is of great service to agriculture, to the proper ordering of every thing, in civil and political life, and, is the necessary ground|work of geography, and, the art of naviga|tion. But, when, on such reflections, they come to know, that, without this science, history and chronology would be nothing but confusion, perpetually, contradicting each other, on account of the different manner, in which different nations regu|late their days and years; they would pay that respect to astronomy, and, its professors, as their merit deserves. Astrology, is, at present, much less in vogue, than it was,
formerly; either, because men are grown less credulous; that, the love of truth, is more the taste of the learned part of man|kind, than, the desire of dazzling, or, im|posing upon the world; or, because the brilliancy of reputation, does not, in this age, depend, so much upon the number of fools we make, as, upon the approbation of the discerning, and, the wise.
Although the word attachment, may, sometimes, be used, with respect to things bad, in themselves; it is, however, appli|ed, with more propriety, when an honest or moderate passion is in question, than, either
of the two others. As, for example, we are attached, to our duty, to our friends, to our families, and, to virtuous women, whom we esteem. That of passion, is more applicable with respect to things, less ap|proved, or, when they are carried to ex|cess; thus, men, are said to have a passion for gaming, for women, &c. As to the word devotion, though I have ranked it here, as most agreeable to the other two substan|tives; the idea, it is supposed to convey, is best comprehended by the preterite of the verb, devote; the substantive devotion, being, very rarely used in this sense: by it, then, is understood, an implicit obedi|ence, or, a perfect disposition to conform in every thing. Thus, we say, a man is devoted to his prince, to his master, to his benefactor, to a lady, who has acquired an absolute empire over him.
Attachment is strong; passion, is violent; de|votion, has no reserve.
The first, unites us, to what we love; the second, to what we thirst after; and, the third, makes us submit, to the will of those, we are desirous of serving.
The manners of the present age have banished from the laws of friendship, all attachment, contrary to interest. We dare not confess a passion, for any thing, through fear of censure. We, often, observe that those persons, who devote themselves to others, in expectation of future advantage, are, frequently, disappointed.
Life, would not be agreeable, without some attachment. A passion, for any one thing, generally, gives as much pain, as pleasure. It is difficult, to please the great, without devoting ourselves, entirely, to their will.
It is sufficient, to regard with passionate affection, in order, to be said, with propri|ety, that, we are in love; but, we must testify that affection, in order, to be called a lover.
We become in love, with a woman, whose beauty affects the heart; we become her lover, by waiting on her.
Variety of tender sentiments, crowd into the breast of a man, in love. Passionate airs, appear, with caution, in the behaviour of a lover.
We are, often, very much in love, with|out daring to appear a lover. We, fre|quently, declare ourselves a lover, without ever being in love.
It is, always, the passion, that constitutes our being in love, of which, the possession
of the object, is the only end we propose. Reason and interest may form the lover, of whom, an honest establishment, or, some particular advantage, is the chief aim, or, tendency.
It is very, rare, to be in love, with two persons at the same time; there is none, that I ever heard of, except, Phillis of Siro, who was so much in love, with two men, that she could not give the preference, or, her company, to either one, or, the other: but, it is not, very, rare, to find a man, at the same time, the lover, of many mis|tresses; which, they continue to be, fre|quently, to the very hour of marriage. We may, also, be in love, with one person, and, the lover of another; I speak of that case, where interest engages us to the one, whilst, we sigh in secret for her, whom it is not convenient for us, to marry.
Assiduity, finds opportunity to favour the designs of a man in love. Riches, give the lover, a great advantage over his rivals.
These two words, equally, express want of attention; but, with this difference, that, it is our own inward ideas, occupy|ing us, so fully, as to prevent our atten|tion, to any other thing that offers, which renders us absent; whereas, 'tis some fresh outward object, attracting our attention, in such a manner, as to turn it, from what, we at first gave it to, or, from what we ought to give it to, that makes us inatten|tive. When these faults are become habi|tual, they are very inconvenient in our commerce with the world.
We are absent, when we think not of any present object, or, any thing, that is said to us. We are inattentive, when we pay more regard to any other object, than, to that, which is proposed to us, or, when
we listen to any other conversation, than, to what is addressed to us.
Very studious persons, and, those, who have great affairs upon their hands, or, are endued with strong passions, are more apt to be absent, than others; their internal ideas and designs quite engrossing them. Young people are the most apt to be inat|tentive; a mere nothing, being sufficient to amuse and divert their attention.
Our absence of mind, is owing to thoughtfulness; our inattention, to cu|riosity.
The mind of an absent man, is never where, he himself is; nothing round him, makes the least impression on him; he is, often, at Athens or Rome, in the midst of London or Paris; and, frequently, muses upon politics, or, geometry, while the con|versation, perhaps, runs upon love, or, gal|lantry. The mind of an inattentive man, is, always, present with him; is caught by every thing, he either sees or hears; he quits his attention to one thing, in order, that he may attend to another; listening to all that is said, both on the right and
left; he, frequently, understands not tho|roughly, or, comprehends but in part, which makes him liable to take things, sometimes, in a quite opposite sense, to what they are meant.
The absent man, cares little for conver|sation; the inattentive man, loses the fruit of it. When we are in company with the former, we had best give ourselves up to silent meditation; when, with the latter, we had better wait for their attention, till every other object is out of their way.
A new passion, if strong, seldom fails to render us absent. We can scarce help being inattentive, when listening to a tire|some story; or, when we hear, on the other side, something more interesting.
The two first of these words, suppose a superiority of light, which, the last, does not; but, on the other hand, the last, car|ries in its idea, a degree of credit and as|cendancy, entirely foreign, to the other two.
We conduct, and, guide those, who know not the way; we lead those, who cannot, or, care not to, go by themselves.
In the literal sense, it is, properly speak|ing, the head, that conducts; the eye, that guides; and, the hand, that leads.
We conduct an affair. We guide a tra|veller. We lead an infant.
It requires understanding, to conduct, in business; politeness, should be our guide, in all proceedings: Taste, should lead the way, in pleasures.
We are conducted, step by step, that we may do, exactly, what is necessary. We are guided, in roads, to prevent our losing the way. We are lead, to the knowledge of people, in order, to procure their ac|quaintance.
Wise men do not conduct themselves, by the light of others, so much as by their own. An attentive perusal of the gospel, is sufficient to guide us, in the way of sal|vation. It is great weakness, to suffer ourselves to be lead, in all our actions, by the will of another; sensible persons, will, indeed, consult a friend in matters of doubt, but they make their determinati|ons themselves.
We fortify a town, in strengthening it against attacks, by walls and works. We garrison it, by placing soldiers in it, to de|fend it.
We are said to fortify, strongly; to gar|rison, largely.
A town without a soldier, or, any one inhabitant, may be fortified, but, cannot be garrisoned.
Some fortified places, require a grea|ter number of men to garrison them, than others.
A thing is entire, when, it is neither mu|tilated, broken, or, divided, but when all its parts are together, as they ought to be. It is complete, when it wants nothing, but, has every thing, that is necessary.
The first, of these words, relates, more, to that totality of parts, which constitutes the whole of a thing; the second, more, to that totality, which contributes to its acci|dental perfection.
Small families in the country, occupy entire houses; but, in London, they have scarcely complete apartments.
Both these words, express the effect of those actions, that hurt the reputation of those who commit them; with this difference, that a disgraceful action, is an obstacle to glory, loses us the esteem, and, draws on us the contempt, of the honest; whereas, a scandalous action, is a shame|ful blot in our life, destroys our honour, and, draws on us the hatred of the just.
He, who has the folly, or, the misfor|tune to do any thing disgraceful, should be very careful, not to give himself any un|becoming airs. When we have been guilty of any thing scandalous, the best thing we can do, is to hide ourselves, entirely, from the eyes of the world.
Nothing is more disgraceful to men, than meanness of spirit; nor, any thing more so to women, than gallantry carried to excess. Nothing is more scandalous, to all sorts of people, than to be punished, according to the sentence of public justice.
The advantage of these two qualities, is confined to the person who possesses them; they contribute to his perfection, and, are nothing to others, but, an object of specu|lation, which merits their approbation; but, is, sometimes, injurious to their satis|faction.
We are reserved, in our words and ac|tions. Taking too great a liberty, is the fault, in opposition; when that liberty is carried to excess, and, we are, in no res|pect, reserved, it becomes impudence. We are modest in our desires, in our gestures, and, in our dress. There are three kinds of modesty, those, of the heart, the mind, and, the body; but, their opposite vices are not all expressed by the word, immodesty, which denotes, only, that, which regards the body, proceeding from the indecency of gestures and cloaths. That vanity, which we assume, in giving ourselves bold and unbecoming airs, is the vice in opposition to modesty of mind: that, which is contrary to modesty of heart, is immoderate ambition, which makes us covet all that comes in our way, and, all that we can possibly attain.
Reservedness, is good, at all times; but, it is, absolutely, necessary, in public, and, in company with our superiors; any li|berty, they may seem to wink at, giving some degree of offence: for, they reserve to themselves a certain title to respect, the
failure of which, they consider, as an un|pardonable fault. Modesty, is an ornament to persons, who have some pretence for carrying their head higher than others; and to those, who are possessed of some known and distinguished merit; but, to all other persons, it is an indispensable virtue, and, a quality, without which, they cannot appear becoming, or, avoid ridicule.
It is the reproach of conscience, that makes us ashamed; but, the sentiments of modesty, that make us bashful. Both one and the other, throw a colour into the face, but, when we are ashamed, we redden; when bashful, we blush.
We need never boast, or, be ashamed of our birth; which is a mark, only, of pride; but, it is praise-worthy, in all ranks of people, both high and low, to be ashamed of their faults. Although bashfulness is a virtue; there are, nevertheless, occasions, when it would pass for weakness and ti|midity.
We finish, by putting the last hand to a work. We cease, in quitting it, entirely. We leave off, in discontinuing.
To finish a discourse, properly, we should do it, just before it begins to grow tiresome. We ought to cease from our pursuits, as soon as we discover them to be useless. We should not leave off work, but, to refresh ourselves, that we may begin again, with fresh spi|rits, and, more vigour.
Man is born to trouble; he has no sooner finished one affair, than another suc|ceeds; he may indeed seek repose and tran|quillity, but, Providence will not permit him, in this life, to cease from labour; and, if want of spirits, or, fatigue induces him, sometimes, to leave off his work, it is not, for any length of time; he is, presently,
obliged to return to his task, and, continue his employ.
That is, certainly, a good maxim, which says, we should not begin a thing, which we cannot finish; but, that, in my opinion, is much better, which forbids our ceasing from one work, in order, to begin another, without necessity obliges us. When our mind is employed, it is necessary, sometimes, to leave off; not, at that time, when the ima|gination, full of fire, finds itself best capa|ble of its task; but, only, at the first ins|tant, we perceive it flag; it being wrong, either, to stop it, in its career, or; attempt to drive it, when it stops.
Persons, who never finish their stories, cease talking, or, leave off; are as little fit for conversation, as those, who never speak a word.
We invent, new things, by the force of imagination. We find out, things, that are hidden or unknown, by examination and study. The one, denotes the fruitfulness of the mind; the other, the penetration.
It is the principle of mechanics, to invent tools and machines; of physics, to find out causes and effects.
The ventilator was invented, by Dr. Hales. Harvey, found out the circulation of the blood.
Joy, is in the heart; gaiety, in the man|ners. The one, consists, in the sweet senti|ments of the soul; the other, in the agree|able situation of the mind.
It, sometimes, happens, that the pos|session of a good, from which, we expected, a great deal of joy, gives us, a great deal of uneasiness. It is, often, owing, to a turn of imagination only, that the bitterest tears, are succeeded, by the greatest gaiety.
A project, is, a plan, or, an arrangement of means, in order, to execute a design. The design, is, what we propose to execute.
We, commonly, say of projects, that, they are fine; of designs, that, they are great.
The beauty of projects, depends upon their order and magnificence. The grandeur of designs, rises from the advantage and glory they may procure. We should not suffer ourselves, to be dazzled with the beauty of the one, or, the grandeur of the other; for practice does not, often, agree with speculation; the admirable order of a sys|tem, and, the advantageous idea, which we form from it, do not, always, prevent projects from running aground, or, put designs out of the possibility of failing.
The experience of all ages, teaches us, that heads, fruitful in great designs, and, excellent projects, are, frequently, chimeri|cal.
The word project, is taken, also, for the thing we even propose to execute, as well, as that, of design. But though these words, considered in that sense, are, more, nearly synonymous, we shall, nevertheless, find a difference, very conspicuous to those, who have any delicacy of taste. The following, is such, as I am able to discover.
It appears to me, that project, relates, to something, more, distant; design, to something, more, near. We make pro|jects, for the time to come; we form de|signs, for the time present. The first, is, more, vague; the other, more, deter|mined.
The project of an avaritious man, is, to enrich himself; his design, is, to amass money.
A good minister of state, has no other project, than the glory of his prince, and, the happiness of the subject. A good ge|neral, studies as much to conceal his own designs, as, discover those of his enemy.
The union of all the states of Europe, into one single republic, for general go|vernment, and, the discussion of their parti|cular interests, without changing the inte|riour government, peculiar to each of them, was a noble project of Henry the IVth of France; but, perhaps, more difficult to execute, than the design of universal monar|chy, in which, Spain was at that time busied.
To oblige, implies, rather, something of force; to engage, rather, something, agreea|ble. Duty, and, necessity, oblige us; pro|mises, and, good manners, engage us.
Convenience, often, obliges those, who are abroad, in the world, to do things, they, very much, dislike. complaisance en|gages
those, who are not, very, choice in their company, sometimes, to enter upon bad actions.
Also, relates more to number and quan|tity, its proper office is, to add, and, to augment.
Love is, not only, liberal, but, also, pro|digal.
Likewise, is used, with most propriety, when it relates to similitude or com|parison; its particular office, is, to denote the conformity, and, equality of things.
When the body is sick, the mind is so, likewise. Politeness is not, only, to be met with in London, but, likewise, in country places.
We are upright, when, we are neither crooked, or, stooping. We are up, when, upon our feet.
A graceful air, requires us to be upright. Respect makes us, sometimes, hold our|selves up.
By the word flags, we understand, en|signs, hoisted upon the top of towers, castles, or, churches. The word colours, implies the jack, ensign, and, pendant of a ship; or, the standard of a regiment.
The arms of England, are generally, painted upon flags; the union, upon colours.
The first, for the most part, is used in the singular number; the second, never. We say, the flag, of a fort; the colours, of a regiment. English flags, except those, on which, the arms of the country are painted; are, com|monly, of one colour; such as, white, blue, &c. But, colours, are of many.
Flags, are hung out, on days of public rejoicing; and, frequently, hoisted, as sig|nals. Great respect is, usually, paid to the colours of a regiment, as military honour seems, there, to be, chiefly, centred.
A trench, is either a channel, made in lands, by digging out the earth, in order, to carry off the water; or, earth thrown up, in order, to defend soldiers, in their ap|proach to a town, or, to guard a camp. Ditch, is, a trench, cut in the ground, be|tween two fields, in order, to seperate them.
The earth, dug from trenches, that serve as drains, is, generally, spread, so as to leave no heap. The earth, dug from dit|ches, is, usually, thrown up into a bank, on one side.
Trenches, are, commonly, regular. Dit|ches, are, often, irregular.
The largeness of a ditch, is determined, by the wideness of the trench.
To conceive things, that are fine, we need, only, sufficient comprehension; but, it requires taste, to conceive that, which is delicate. The first, is within the reach, of many persons; the second, but of few.
A fine discourse is, sometimes, usefully, repeated to those, who do not, at first, com|prehend it: but, he, who perceives not the delicate, at first glance, will never perceive it. We may seek, the one; but, must catch, the other.
The word, fine, is of more extensive use; we apply it, equally, with respect to the strokes, of ill-will, as to those, of good. The application of the word, delicate, is more rare; it agrees not with any thing malicious, but, is used, with most propriety, with respect to things, in themselves, flat|tering. Thus, we say, a fine satire; a delicate encomium.
Steadiness, prevents our varying, and, supports the heart against levity and curi|osity, which, diversity of objects may pro|duce: it rises from preference, and, justi|fies choice. Constancy, prevents, our chang|ing, and, furnishes the heart with resources against being disgusted, or, tired with the same object: it results from perseverance, and, gives a lustre to attachment. Resolu|tion, prevents our giving way, and, endues the heart with strength, to resist the at|tacks it meets with: it springs from resis|tance, and, throws a brightness upon vic|tory.
Rakes, pride themselves, more, in being fickle, than, in the steadiness of their en|gagements. If the affections of the ladies, do not last, for ever; it is less owing to a
want of constancy, to the persons they love; than, to a want of resolution, in the object of their affections.
We conceal, by a profound secret, that, which we would not have known. We dis|semble, by reserve, that, which we would not have appear. We disguise, by contrary ap|pearances, that, which we would not lay open to the penetration of others.
It requires care and attention, to conceal; art and cleverness, to dissemble; labour and cunning, to disguise.
He, who would conceal, throws, as it were, a veil, over himself, that, he may not betray himself, through indiscretion. He, who would dissemble, throws a veil, over the eyes of others, that, what he does, or, says,
may not fall within the reach of their know|ledge. He, who would disguise, never opens himself, any otherwise, than, to elude.
Were we to enter into affairs of interest, or, policy, we should, always, conceal our de|signs; often, dissemble; and, sometimes, disguise them: with respect to matters, which concern the heart, we should be more frank.
It is sufficient, to conceal, from those, who cannot see, without some additional light; we must dissemble, with those, who can see, without any such accessary bright|ness; but, it is necessary, to disguise tho|roughly, from those, who, not content to piece through the darkness that opposes, ex|amine into that light, with which, we would dazzle them.
When we have not resolution, to cor|rect our faults, we should, at least, have wisdom, to conceal them. That maxim of Louis the XIth of France, which says, in order, to know how to reign, we should know how to dissemble; is very just, even, with respect to domestic government. When the necessity of circumstances, and
the nature of affairs, require us to disguise, it is political; but, when urged to it, thro' an inclination to cheat or shuffle, it is kna|vish.
To adjust, supposes some dispute, or, dis|agreement. To reconcile, supposes, only, some distance, or, difference.
We adjust matters; we reconcile minds.
It seems impossible, to adjust the liber|ties of the Gallic church, with the preten|sions of the court of Rome; sooner or la|ter, one must necessarily destroy the other; for, it will, always, be difficult to reconcile the maxims of their parliaments, with the opi|nions of the consistory.
We use the word, adjust, with respect to opinions, which oppose one another; and,
that of reconcile, with respect to passages, that seem to contradict each other.
Want of justness in the mind, is what, commonly, prevents schoolmen, from ad|justing their disputes. A precise knowledge of the value of every word, in all the dif|ferent circumstances, wherein, they may be used, would go a great way, towards recon|ciling authors.
To bring, implies, conveying a thing, ourselves, from one place to another, in opposition to the verb, send. To fetch, implies, going to a place, in order, to bring.
He, who fetches a thing, is, always, supposed to bring it; but, he, who brings it, is not, always, supposed to fetch it. Thus, we cannot fetch, without bringing; but, we may bring, without fetching.
If we send for a workman, in any branch of business, in order, to make, or, repair, he, naturally, brings his tools with him: should he leave any behind, through for|getfulness, he is obliged to go back, and, fetch them.
In the literal sense, these words are more nearly synonymous, than, in the figurative; yet, even in that, they will admit of some distinction. We gulp, in order to swallow. This, however, is not the only difference. By swallowing, we understand, taking down the throat, simply; by gulping, we mean, sucking down, eagerly, or, without intermission.
With respect to eating, swallowing, carries in its idea, the act of chewing; gulping, does not.
The glutton, will gulp down, a greater quantity of food, in five minutes; than a moderate eater, would swallow, in half an hour.
In the figurative sense, gulping, rather, implies, a difficulty of swallowing.
We are all too apt to swallow flattery; and, as fulsome as it may possibly be, there are some vain persons, that will make a shift to gulp it down.
Injuring the reputation, is the general idea of these two words; but, that of de|traction, implies, the taking off from a man's good name; defamation, the giving him a bad one. Were we to be silent, when asked the character of a worthy man,
it would be detraction. Were we to vilify him, by declaring him guilty of infamous practices; it would be defamation.
Defamation, is punishable by human laws; detraction, is not.
The one, is an open and scurrilous way of injuring the reputation; the other, a close and demure one.
There are those, accustomed to detraction, who would fly the thoughts of defamation; little imagining, that both are, equally, bad; being, two different means, only, working to the same end.
In that sense; in which these two words, are reputed synonymous; meager, signifies, want of flesh; lean, want of fat.
Meagerness, supposes, a waste of body, owing, either, to a bad constitution, or, a scarcity of food. Leanness, supposes, no want of flesh, being opposed, only, to cor|pulency, or, fatness.
A man may be lean, yet, not meager.
The lean, are, usually, strong; the mea|ger, commonly, weak.
The first, is, generally, a mark of beg|gary; the second, frequently, denotes, the person accustomed to labour.
Activity attends the lean; Indolence, the meager. Many persons, if possible, would choose to be lean; but, none, would care to be meager.
These words denote persons, who live by the sea, or, practise navigation; but, sai|lor, in my opinion, is used, with most propriety, with respect to the common men, or, in the sea phrase, those, before the mast. Seaman, agrees best, with re|gard to the superior class of the ship's company, such as, the officers, boatswain, gunner, &c. Mariner, relates, more, to chose, who gain their livelihood at sea, but, who are, generally, their own masters; as fishermen.
Sailors, are ignorant of navigation, and, are they, who work the vessel, by the direction of others; seamen, are supposed, to un|derstand it; and, are they, who, general|ly, direct it: mariners, are supposed, to have
no greater knowledge of the art, than such, as is sufficient to serve their purpose; working their vessels, themselves.
Both sailors, and, seamen, take long voya|ges; whereas, mariners, do little else, than coast.
We say, an able sailor; an expert sea|man; a bold mariner.
The great hardships the poor sailors un|dergo, one would imagine should be suffi|cient, to endear them to their country. It is not every captain of a ship, that is a good seaman. Mariners, earn their bread very hard; they, not only, being obliged to work more than other men, but, are in dai|ly danger of their lives.
Though these words are, evidently, one and the same, grot, being no more, than, an abbreviation of grotto; yet, custom has made them expressive of different ideas.
Grot, then, seems to denote something, more natural; grotto, something, more arti|ficial.
The first, is, in effect, the work of na|ture; the second, the work of art.
The one, implies, a cool cave, appro|priated to pleasure, stony, rough, irre|gular, and, overgrown with moss; the o|other, a pleasurable cave, or, room, orna|mented with shell-work.
We say, a pretty grot; a beautiful grot|to. It is, as much out of the power of the most ingenious artist, to make a grotto, a|ny thing equal to a grot; as it is, for art, to rival nature.
The sense, in which, these words are es|teemed synonymous, is that, of the retired dwelling of some religious person.
Cave, is, a habitation under ground, made, either, by art or nature. Cell, is, some little dwelling, raised above ground.
We dig a cave. We build a cell.
Hermits, or, such persons, as chuse to seclude themselves from the world, bury themselves in caves, they may chance to meet with; or, wear out their lives in cells, remote from public view.
By broad, is understood, extended each way; as broad-cloth; a broad-brimmed hat. By wide, is meant, broad, to a certain degree; as three inches wide; four feet wide.
Broad, seems to be confined to things of less extent; wide, to those of greater. Thus, we say, a broad bean; a broad face; a broad back; a broad apron; a broad table-cloth; but, a wide room; a wide ditch; a wide field; the wide ocean.
School, implies, a place, of discipline and instruction; academy, a place, where the sciences are taught.
School seems appropriated to the teaching of children; academy, to that of youth.
In schools, are taught, languages, wri|ting, music, dancing, &c.; in academies, natural and experimental philosophy, geo|graphy, geometry, astronomy, ethics, rhetoric, &c.
Schools, begin the education; academies, finish it.
Children, who learn to read, with a tone, at school, seldom get the better of it, even, when they are grown up. Academies, are the nurseries of learned men.
Benediction, appears to me, to be limited, to the decretory pronounciation of happi|ness. Blessing, is a more general expression, intimating, the various means of happiness.
Religious men, find as much comfort, in the benediction of the church; as others ex|perience, in the blessings of life.
Blessing, seems to intimate, divine favour; benediction that, which is human.
We say, the blessing of God; the bene|diction of the priest.
Heaven showers down its blessings upon the virtuous. The benediction of a good man, is a very desirable thing.
The general idea of these words, is, that of a minister, representing the person of his sovereign, sent from one court to another; but, ambassador, seems to be superior to that of resident.
The first, are, generally, men of greater rank; the second, of less.
Ambassadors, are not supposed, to stay long at the court, to which they are sent; their office being, to transact some state affairs between the two powers. Residents, are supposed, to reside, for some considera|ble time, as a testimony of the good harmo|ny between the two states.
The Earl of Northampton, was sent from London, ambassador, to Venice, in the year, 1764, during the time that Mr. Murray was there, as resident.
Dregs, are gross; a sediment, is fine.
After the dregs are taken away, there will, frequently, remain a sediment.
We say, the dregs of wine; the dregs of melted tallow; but, the sediment of water; the sediment of urine.
Lofty, seems to carry with it an idea of magnificence, which high, does not. Thus, we say, a lofty room; the lofty cedar; but, a high house; a high tree.
With respect to other things, 'tis the same. Thus, it is in the power, only, of a severe fit of sickness, or, a heavy stroke of adversity, to lower the high looks of the great, and, the lofty imaginations of the proud.
If any two words, in the English lan|guage, may be said to carry the same mean|ing, these, in some respect, may. As a studied delicacy, here, is not, immediately, essential, custom has made no other distincti|on, than, that, of using the word, between, on every occasion, as, being softer on the tongue; and, almost banishing the use of the word, betwixt, as, being much harsh|er: but, as I deviate, from the common opi|on, and, think, there is no word so trivial, but the choice of it, on particular occasions, may be necessary; I hope, I may not be condemned, as too nice, with respect to the word before us.
Betwixt, then, appears to me, to be used, with most propriety, when that, which is
in the middle, is, as it were, embraced by the other two; between, when that, which is in the middle, is at some distance, from the other two. Thus, to speak properly, with respect to a house, standing in a row, we should use the word, betwixt; as, for example, the house, I dwell in, stands be|twixt two high houses: but, with respect to a tree, standing in a line with others, we should use the word, between; as, for in|stance, the oak tree, I mentioned, stands between two elms.
A thing is, in the middle, when it stands at an equal distance from the two extremes; it is, in the midst, when it stands, in the cen|ter of a great many.
Thus, we say, in the middle of a pond; in the midst of a crowd.
There cannot be a more tormenting si|tuation, than to hang in the middle between hope and fear. Providence, sometimes, has taken a man out, from the midst of mis|fortunes, when he has seen no visible way of escaping.
Marshy lands, are those, that lie low, and, are watry; boggy lands, are those, where there are many quagmires.
In walking over the first, we sink not deeper than our ankles. In passing over the second, we may, entirely, be lost.
Marshy lands, frequently, produce fine meadows; boggy lands, are, wholly, use|less.
Roughness, is a small degree of rugged|ness; ruggedness, a great degree of rough|ness.
Smooth, is the reverse of rough; level, the reverse of rugged.
We say, a rough hand; a rugged road.
A beam, seems to me, to be more pow|erful than a ray, casting a greater degree of light, and, heat.
We say, rays of light; beams of the sun; by the first of which expressions, we mean, that, those are rays, which shine, early, in the morning; by the second, that, those are beams, which gleam at noon.
We, frequently, apply the epithet chear|ful, to the word, ray; that of scorching, to the word, beam.
The rays of the sun, being separated by a prism, is the original of colours. The beams of the fun, collected into one point, by means of a convex lens, will set fire to any thing they touch.
There are three ranks of clergymen, be|low that of a dignitary, viz. parson, vicar, and, curate. Parson, is the first, meaning, a rector, or, he, who receives the great tythes of a benefice. By the word, par|son, then, is implied, one of a particular class of clergy; whereas, by the word, cler|gyman, is understood, any person, ordained to serve at the altar.
Parsons, are, always, priests; many cler|gymen, are, only, deacons.
Every bishop, dean, &c. is a clergyman; tho' not, always, a parson.
As the general and indiscriminate use of these two words, has rendered it necessary, I have pointed out the distinction, that should be made between them; but, am of of opinion, as custom has thrown into the word, parson, an idea of contempt, it would be better, not to use it at all; but, when we have occasion to point out one, of that class of clergymen, who enjoy the great tythes of a living, to substitute in its room, that, of rector.
Death, brought on, by a stoppage of breath, is the general idea of these three words; but, that of suffocated, implies, an ex|tinction of life occasioned by being in a place where we cannot breathe; that of smothered, by being in a place, where we are not suffered to breathe; that of choaked, by having the wind-pipe closed.
Thus, men are, frequently, suffocated by smoke. Persons, raving mad, when in curable, are, sometimes, smothered, between two fea|ther beds. Malefactors, when hanged, are choaked.
It has happened, that travellers, by fal|ling into bogs, have been, sometimes, suf|focated,
before assistance could be had. Children, are, frequently, smothered, in bed, thro' the carelesness of nurses. Persons are often, choaked, by eating too greedily.
The words, smother, and, choak, are, often, used in a figurative sense; the word, suffocate, never.
We smother a flame. We choak a passage.
It is an act of charity, to smother the failings of another. When interest is pre|dominant, it is sure to choak up all the ave|nues to the heart, which, would, otherwise be open to the cries of distress.
These are machines for carrying cloaths on a journey. Cloak-bags, are made of lea|ther, contrived to be laid upon the back of a horse; portmanteaus, and, trunks, are of wood, generally, covered with hair, and, made to be carried before, or, behind a car|riage; with this difference between them, that, portmanteaus, are long, and, their lids round; whereas, trunks are made square, every way.
Rule, respects, properly, those things that ought to be done; order, the manner, in which they should be done. In the idea of the first, there seems to be something, arising more, from natural right; in the idea of the second, something, resulting more, from positive right.
Equity and charity ought to be the two grand rules of our conduct; they may, even, deviate from all kind of order.
We submit to rule. We conform to or|der. Although the first, is much more in|dispensable, it is, yet, much more broke through; the particularity of order, mak|ing a greater impression on us, than, the ad|vantage of rule.
We are regular, in our conduct. We are methodical, with respect to our af|fairs.
A regular man, is careful of his reputa|tion; he runs into no excess. A methodi|cal man, takes care of his time; he gives no way to dissipation.
With respect to expences; we are regu|lar, in relation to, the bounds we set to them; methodical, with regard to, the manner of them.
Regular persons, are always, admired; methodical persons, are, frequently, laughed at.
We are sorry for the misfortunes of ano|ther; we regret his absence. The one, is the effect of pity; the other, of attach|ment.
Grief, occasions our sorrow: repentance, excites our regret.
A court favourite, in prosperity, is the object of envy; but, when he falls into disgrace, no one is sorry for him. Those princes, who are most commended, du|ring their life, are not, always, most regret|ted, after their death.
The expression, sorry for, when used, with respect to ourselves, in some measure, changes its signification. Retaining the common and general idea of sensibility, it
ceases to express that particular motive of pity, that makes us sympathise, inwardly, for the distresses of others; and, in its room, marks, only, a certain uneasiness, which discovers itself, outwardly. When we are sorry for the misfortunes of others, we are, often, inwardly touched, and, per|haps, no outward sign of it shall appear: when we are sorry for our own; we shew it, outwardly, in order, to draw the compassi|on of others. This expression is, some|times, used, in another sense, besides that, mentioned; instead of motives of pity, it denotes, motives of repentance: In this sense, we say, he is sorry for the steps he has taken.
As much taken up, as we may be, with ourselves, there are eertain moments, when we are sorry for the distresses of o|thers. However philosophical we may pretend to be, it is extremely difficult, to suffer, a long time together, without shewing some signs of sorrow. Mercenary people, are sorry for every step they take, that does not turn out to advantage. We often,
seem to regret the absent, in order, to affront the person present.
A hard heart, is sorry for no one. An in|sensible man, is never sorry for any thing, that happens to him. A miserly person, regrets every morsel he eats.
We should never be sorry for a man, who suffers deservedly; for ourselves, when we can procure no kind of comfort; nor, for any trouble we take, when prudence enjoins it. we should not regret the departure of a friend, when his absence, will turn out to his advantage.
Rivulets, and, brooks are certain species of streams, which are running waters; with this difference, that a rivulet, runs between banks; whereas, a brook, winds its way, through the meadows, or, by a hedge side.
A rivulet, is, a much larger stream, than, a brook.
Fish are found in rivulets; but, never in what we, properly, call, brooks there not being sufficient depth of water.
We say, the rapid stream; the clear ri|vulet; the gurgling brook.
Heavy rains will swell a stream, in such a manner, as to overflow the neighbouring grounds. Poets are, very, luxurious, in their description of rivulets, and, brooks.
A stream, issues from a head, and, moves forward, with a continuity of parts. A cur|rent, is a certain progressive motion of some fluid body. These words, in the literal sense, are applied to water. Thus, we say, the stream of a river; the current of a sea.
Streams, are, frequently, rapid; currents, are, seldom so.
In the figurative sense, these words, convey the same ideas. Thus, we say, a stream of light; a current of air.
Custom has made the word, swear, to signify, the profane and illegal use of the sacred name, in common conversation; whereas, by the phrase, make oath of, is un|derstood, the divine name, used solemnly, on legal occasions, in confirmation of the truth.
In courts of judicature, we are required to make oath of every thing we have to say. He, who swears, upon every occasion, gives us to understand, that his bare word is not to be credited.
It is the air and behaviour, that renders pleasing; good sense and good humour, that renders agreeable.
We love, the company of a pleasing man; because he charms. We covet, the com|pany of an agreeable man; because he di|verts.
Well-bred persons, are, always, pleasing. Merry persons, are, commonly, agreeable.
How difficult is it, to avoid being at|tached to one, of a pleasing address, and, a|greeable coversation!
It appears to me, that it is, more, the behaviour, than the air, that makes the men pleasing; and, that, it is, rather, the air, than the behaviour, that makes the wo|men, so. It seems to me, also, that, it is, rather, good sense, and, a liveliness in
conversation, that constitutes agreeableness, in the men; and, that, it is an even tem|per, and, a merry disposition, that esta|blishes that quality, in the women.
When these words are used, otherwise, than to denote personal qualities, that of plea|sing, properly speaking, implies, something, which flatters the sense, or, self-love; that, of agreeable, something, which agrees with the taste, and, the mind.
It is pleasing, to have, always, desireable objects before us. Nothing is more agree|able, to a joyous man, than good company.
It is, sometimes, dangerous, to approach that, which is pleasing to the sight; and, it may happen, that, what is very agreeable, may be very prejudicial.
Graces, result from natural politeness, accompanied with a noble freedom; it is a varnish, that appears in our conversation, our actions, and, our carriage; making us please in every thing we do. Charms, rise from an assemblage of fine touches, ani|mated by good-humour, and, good-sense; and, are, sometimes, far superior to what is, perfectly, agreeable.
The body, seems to be more susceptible of graces; the mind, of charms. We say, of a lady, that she walks, dances, and, sings with grace; and, that her conversa|tion is full of charms.
What can a man desire more, in a lady, than, an outward union, of graces, and,
charms; and, an inward composition, of solidity, in her disposition, and, delicacy, in her sentiments.
Both the one, and, the other of these words denote that, which is done without difficulty; but, the first, excludes diffi|culty, which arises from obstacles and op|positions; the second, that which springs from the very nature of the thing. Thus, we say a ready entrance, when no one stops the passage; an easy entrance, when the passage is large and commodious. For the same reason, we say, of a woman, without reserve; that, she is ready of ac|cess:
and, of a shoe, that does not pinch; that, it is easy.
It appears to me, best, to use the word, ready, in naming the action; and, that of easy, in expressing the event, of that action. Thus, speaking of a commodious harbour, I should say, we have there, a ready land|ing; and, that it is easy, to land there.
Of these two adjectives, there are form|ed, two adverbs, easily, and, readily. Which, besides the difference of ideas, remarked in their originals, have one peculiar to themselves; which, I should not, here, omit taking notice of. In speaking, then, of a sensible person, I should, rather, say, he comprehends easily, and, pardons rea|dily; than, that he comprehends readily, and, pardons easily. This choice of words, I must confess, is delicate; but, as I, can perceive the necessity of it, why should not another, do the same?
That, which is flat, does not pierce the taste; that, which is insipid, does not touch it, in the least. Thus, the last, rises upon the first; the one, wanting, only, a degree of seasoning; the other, wanting it, en|tirely.
In works of the mind, they are both very far from pleasant: but, the flat, ap|pearing to affect the graces; displeases: the insipid, appearing to have no know|ledge; tires.
In relation to the beauty of the sex, I do not think the word, insipid, should be used, but with respect to those, who are of a disposition, wholly, insensible: but, we say, beauty is flat, when it is not animated, and,
when it has neither the charms of vivacity, nor those of softness.
We keep, what we intend not to part with. We detain, what we propose not to restore.
We keep that, which is our own. We detain, that, which is another's.
The miser, keeps his money. The debtor, detains the property of his creditors.
The honest man, finds a difficulty, in keeping what he possesses; when the rogue, finds none, in detaining what he has taken.
Affairs, or, actions are complicated, one with another, by their mixture and mutual dependance. Persons are involved in ac|tions, or, in affairs, when they are far im|merged in them.
Things, extremely complicated, become obscure to those, who have not sufficient understanding or discernment, to unfold them. If we are, often, in company with rash people, we are liable to be involved in disagreeable matters.
The most complicated affairs, become simple, and, easy to be understood, in the mouth, or, in the writings of an able ad|vocate. It is dangerous to be involved, even innocently, in the crimes of the great; as, at those time we are, always, the
dupe, and, are sure to be sacrificed to their interests.
Complicated, has a substantive, in general use; involved has not; but, in return, that, has a verb, in general use, which, the other has not. We hear, frequently, of com|plication; seldom, of involution; so again, we meet, frequently, with the verb, to in|volve; seldom, with that, of to complicate.
Nothing embarrasses physicians more, than a complication of disorders, of which, the remedy of one, shall oppose the cure of another. It is very disagreeable to have such acquaintance, as involve us, always, in their own faults.
However synonymous these may be, for, seems to me, to agree best when, speaking of a person or thing which governs the following verb: As to, appears to me, to be used, with most propriety, when, speaking of that, which is governed by the verb. I should say, then, for my part, I will not interfere in such matters, as do not concern me; as to me, all things are indifferent.
The religion, of the understanding part of mankind, consists in a lively faith, a pure morality, and, in a simple conduct, guided by divine authority, and, support|ed by reason. For that, of the people in general, it consists in a blind credulity, and, in exterior practices, authorised by education, and, corroborated by the force
of custom. As to that, of those, belong|ing to the church, we can determine nothing concerning it, unless we could de|tach them from their temporal interests.
In the sense, in which these words are esteemed synonymous, that of trade, im|plies, a manual occupation; that of business, such an occupation, as consists, only, in buy|ing and selling; that of profession, such, as results from the lucrative use of the sciences. Thus, the occupations of a carpenter, taylor, baker, &c. are trades; those of a linnen-draper, mercer, haberdasher, &c. are businesses; those of a physician, coun|sellor, musician, &c. are professions.
In point of rank, professions take place of businesses; businesses, of trades.
Divination, brings hidden things to light; prediction, fortells what will come to pass.
The first, regards things present and past. The objects of the second, are things to come.
A learned and discerning man, one, who knows what relation, the least outward signs, bear to the motions of the soul, rea|dily, passes with the world, as well-skilled in divination. A wise man, one, who sees what will be the consequences of certain principles, and, the effects of certain causes, may pass with the people, as hav|ing the knowledge of prediction.
He who reproves another, points out his fault, and, blames him. He who re|primands, pretends to punish, and, morti|fies the offender.
We reprove a friend. We reprimand a child.
Reprove, is seldom used, but, with re|spect to the faults of the mind; repri|mand, with regard to the manners and con|duct.
We, sometimes, reprove one, who knows better, than ourselves. No one has a right to reprimand, but superiors.
We are austere, by our manner of liv|ing; severe, by our manner of thinking.
Softness, is the reverse of austerity; it is rare to pass, immediately, from one to the other; a common, regular way of life, is the medium, between the two. Re|missness, and, severity, are the two ex|tremes, in one of which, we are sure to fall; few persons being able to distinguish the true medium, which consists, in an exact and precise knowledge of the law.
We are austere, only, with respect to ourselves; but, we may be severe, as well with respect to others, as ourselves.
Enthusiasts give themselves up to the exercises of austerity; this was, also, once, the custom of recluses. Some casuists af|fect to distinguish themselves by a severe
morality; extending it, even, 'till it loses sight of every degree of reason.
An austere life, consists in the privation of pleasures and conveniences; we, some|times, embrace it through a taste of singu|larity, and, would fain have it thought to proceed from a principle of religion. Mo|rals, too severe, may equally, with morals too remiss, wound the regularity of man|ners.
By tempest, is understood, the utmost vio|lence of the wind; by storm, a commotion of the elements.
Tempests, are more dreadful at sea, than storms.
We use the word storm, to denote any violence of weather; but, then, in order, to determine what weather we mean,
we are under a necessity of adding such other words to it, as shall express the idea, we want to convey. Thus, we say, a storm of wind; a storm of hail, &c. but, the word tempest, is understood to be, neither more or less, than, as was said before, the ut|most violence of the wind: should this excess of wind, be atttended with rain, thunder and lightning, it, then, becomes a storm.
We, may, say, with propriety, a great storm; but a great tempest, would be ab|surd.
Words cannot describe the distresses of seamen, when out, in tempestuous weather. Stormy weather, is, generally, succeeded by serene.
I know not how much I may differ from the rest of my countrymen; but, the verb, appear, in my opinion, relates, more, to the eye; seem, more, to the imagination.
An object, always, appears less, the far|ther it is off. Many things seem practica|ble, which cannot be carried into execu|tion.
The sense, in which these words are ac|counted synonymous, is that of quick mo|tion; but, fast, denotes quickness, without force; hard, quickness, with violence. Thus, to run, ride, or, rain fast, implies a quicker motion, than common; but, to run, ride, or, rain hard, some degree of force or violence.
With respect to work, fast, means expe|ditiously; hard, laboriously. Thus, he, who works fast, will soon have done. He, who works hard, will soon be weary.
These are both time-pieces, with this difference, that the clock strikes; the dial, does not. 'Tis, for this reason, we call that plate, which determines time, by a shadow, in the sun, a sun-dial.
The clock, tells, the hour; the dial, shews, it.
Dials, were long in use, before the in|vention of clocks.
Though the word, every, is, more fre|quently, made use of, by itself; it is, some|times, connected with the word, ONE; es|pecially, when used as synonymous to all.
As, all of us; every one of us. These ex|pressions shew, that every, is, rather, parti|cular, relating more to individuals; and, that all, is rather, general, relating to the whole; the word, ONE, being added to every, specifying that determination.
Every, includes, always, in its idea, the word all; though all, does not, always, include the word every: that is, all, speaks in general, only; whereas, every, excepts none.
Every man is, undoubtedly, bound to assist his neighbour. All men, are mer|cenary.
All, seems to me, to be the plural of every; every being, constantly, applied to the singular number; all, to the plural. Thus, we say, every man; every thing; every part, &c. but, all men; all things; all parts, &c.
I cannot say, whether in the character|ising of these words, I may fall in with the opinion of the public; but, with respect to the two first, pity, seems to me, to be, rather, particular, and, to be used, with most propriety, with regard to persons, we have some knowledge of; whereas, compassion, is more general, and, may be used, equally, with respect, to those we know, as, to those we know not.
We are said, to pity the distresses of a friend; and, compassionate the misfortunes of a stranger.
Pity, seems most applicable to the first emotions we feel, at the sight or descrip|tion of an object in distress; rising from tenderness of heart. Compassion, seems to
result from reflection, on the unmerited ca|lamities of another; springing from the truest benevolence.
Thus, we say, it was through pity, we were led to compassionate his case.
Commiseration, in my opinion, implies a fellow-feeling, or, the bearing a part in another's woe, and, rises from sympathy.
We, naturally, commiserate the sorrows of one, we love.
According to this interpretation of the words, we may pity, and, yet, not have compassion; we may have both pity, and, compassion, yet, not commiserate.
The word pity, on some occasions, has been made use of, by way of contempt; as I pity her pride: but it seems hare, to be used, rather, ironically, than, to imply, in its real signification, any degree of scorn.
Glibness, implies, a great degree of slipperi|ness; slipperiness, a small degree of glibness.
All ice is slippery; but, that, which is, remarkably, smooth, is glib.
The proper, and, literal definition of slippery, is, affording no firm hold, or, footing; that of glib, made easy to be moved. In this sense, the first, denotes, something, natural; the last, something, not so.
An eel is so slippery, as to be difficult to hold. Wet weather, succeeded by a frost, makes the ways slippery. Oiling, the fly of a jack, makes it run glib.
So, in the figurative sense; speaking of a woman, fond of gallantry; we say, she is a slippery dame. Nothing is of a more slippery nature, than true happiness; it slides
through the fingers, even, while we think, we hold it fast. Strong liquor, on different persons, has different effects; some, it sickens; others, it stupifies; of others, again, it makes the tongue run so glib, as to be, greatly, entertaining.
Laughter in scorn, is the common im|port of these words; but, that of ridicule, implies, contemptuous merriment; that of derision, sportive insult.
We, ridicule, in order, to shew another his fault, and, induce him to amend: We never deride, but, with the utmost con|tempt.
A friend will, often, ridicule; none, but an enemy, derides.
If we have done any thing deserving ridicule, we should endeavour to retrieve our character, lest we become the derision of all who know us.
Shedding of tears, is the general sense, in which these words are understood; but, to cry, implies, shedding of tears, audibly; to weep, shedding of tears, with silence.
Children, commonly, cry; grown per|sons, generally, weep.
'Tis not the noise we make, that denotes a greater or less measure of grief; for, the secret weeper, may be more distressed, than one, who crys, aloud.
Crying is found, by experience, to give greater relief to sorrow, than, bare weep|ing.
Both these words imply, being agitated with a vibratory motion, but, as this mo|tion seems to arise from different causes, it renders the choice of them, necessary.
Shake, appears to me, more applicable to a tremulous motion, occasioned by cold; tremble, to a like motion, occasioned by fear.
We shake with cold; we tremble with fear.
When the blood is chilled, we, naturally, shake. The very thought of danger, will make the coward, tremble.
The verb shake is often used in the ac|tive sense; the verb tremble, never. Thus we shake the house; shake a tree; shake hands, &c.
Pedigree, is our lineal descent from some ancestor, ages back, pointed out: genea|logy, is a history of such pedigree.
We trace our pedigree. We write our ge|nealogy.
It is, sometimes, necessary, to examine into our pedigree, in order, to claim or se|cure our property in lands. The transmit|ting of genealogies to posterity, though they may be, in some respect, useful, is a stand|ing mark, of the vanity of our ancestors.
Prebend, implies, a certain stipend, granted to the clergy, in cathedral churches: prebendary, denotes, properly, the person who receives that stipend. Though it is well known to every one, that, one of these words, implies, the stipend; the other, the stipendiary, yet I thought fit to take no|tice of them, especially, as it gave me an opportunity of correcting their erroneous use; it being common, to employ the word, prebendary, to express, the benefice; and, that of prebend, to denote, the dignitary; whereas, they should be reversed; i. e. Prebend, should be used to mark the of|fice: prebendary, to point out the person, filling that office.
The general import of these words, is, the mutual intercourse of speech, but, that of discourse, implies, serious or set talk, upon any particular subject; that of conversation, such, as is easy and familiar, and, not con|fined to any particular topic.
Discourse, is, generally, formal; conver|sation, commonly, chearful.
The attention of men is so much scat|tered, by dissipation, that, when together, exclusive of business, they seldom en|ter into any discourse, that is improving: but, their general conversation runs on things, in their nature, trifling, and, impertinent.
Nothing is more general than the indis|criminate use of these words, though none differ more among themselves: if a man gives rude language, how common is it to say, he is an impertinent, impudent, or, saucy fellow. One would imagine their peculiar ideas, are so well known, as to render it unnecessary, to take farther notice of them; but, as some people never see the stum|bling block till they fall over it, it may not be unnecessary to give them a perfect view of it: in order to which, I need, only, define them.
Impertinent, then, means, intruding, and, meddling with what, no way concerns us. Impudent, implies, shamelessness, or, want of modesty. Saucy, means, insolent, and, abusive.
To shew a further difference between them, or, give any examples of their use, would be needless.
I know not whether in characterising these words, I may fall in with the taste of the public; but, according to my opinion, tongue, seems, to agree best with a corrupted language, that is, tongue, appears to be more particular, or, provincial; language, more general, or, national. Thus, I would say, the vulgar tongue; the mother tongue; the Yorkshire tongue; but, the English lan|guage; the French language; the Spanish language.
That, of the Indians, may be, rather, called a tongue, than a language; it being neither formal, or, regular.
The generality of people, content them|selves, with speaking the tongue, common to the place they are bred up in; without paying any regard, to the beauties of their native language.
With respect to the two first of these words, drunk, rises upon that of fuddled; fuddled, implying, a less degree of inebria|tion; drunk, a greater. As to the word intoxicated, its greatest distinction is, that, whereas fuddled, and, drunk, are seldom used, in the figurative sense; that, is hardly ever, in the literal.
Half a pint of wine, will make some men, drunk; when others, shall drink a gallon, without being, the least, fuddled. Good success will, sometimes, so intoxicate a person, as to take him off from his busi|ness, and, render him disagreeable to all his acquaintance.
Bargain, is more limited, relating to sale; agreement, and, contract, are more general, implying, any sort of stipulation; with this difference between them, that agreement, seems to denote, a verbal one; contract, one, that is written.
It is a mark of honesty, in dealing, never to draw back from a bargain, once made. Such is the unsteadiness of mankind, that we are, frequently, obliged to enter into contract, in order, to bind them to their agreement.
Though many are of opinion that, the the word, own, is added to the possessive pronoun, my, by way of emphasis, or, cor|roboration, only; yet, custom seems to have thrown into the idea of the ex|pression, my own, a greater degree of pro|perty, than, into that, of the word, mine. Thus, a workman, to whom certain tools have been appropriated by his master, for the work he is imployed on, might, with propriety, say, these tools are mine, though, at the same time, they are not his own, be|ing the property of his master. So, again, a wife, might lay claim to the cloaths she wears, and, say, they are mine; though, she could not say, with propriety, that, they were her own, being, in reality, the pro|perty of her husband. On the other hand, the expression, my own, may, with elegance, be used, by the person, in whom the sole right of a thing, is vested.
I will leave it to the decision of the curi|ous, whether or no, the word near, is not a corruption of nigher, the comparative of nigh: be this as it may, near, in my opinion, implies, a less distance than nigh. Thus, I should say, when we come nigh to such a place, we shall be near home: the nigher the enemy, the nearer the danger. As a farther proof of this, speaking of the close tyes of kindred, we use the word near, in preference to that of nigh, as implying a less distance, or, greater degree of consangui|nity, between the two persons. Thus, my brother's child is my near relation, or, is nearly related to me.
With respect to these two words, that of efficacious, seems not so powerful, as that of effectual. The first, gets the better of most obstacles; the last, of all.
By an efficacious remedy, we put an effec|tual stop.
Width, seem, more applicable to things small in themselves; wideness, to those, which are large. Thus, we say, the width of paper; the width of cloth; but, the wide|ness of a ditch; the wideness of a field.