Sixth Book, Chapter I (5)

Division of Tradition into the Doctrine of the Organ, the Method and the Illustration of Speech. The Organ of Speech divided into the Knowledge of the Marks of Things, of Speaking and Writing. The last two comprise the two Branches of Grammar. The Marks of Things divided into Hieroglyphics and Real Characters. Grammar again divided into Literary and Philosophical. Prosody referred to the Doctrine of Speech, and Ciphers to the Department of Writing

ANY man may, excellent King, when he pleases, take the liberty to jest and laugh at himself or his own projects. Who, then, knows—as there is a book in the famous library of St. Victor, entitled “Formicarum Artium,” whether our book may not be an accidental transcript of its contents. We have indeed only accumulated a little heap of dust, and deposited therein many grains of the arts and sciences whereto ants may creep to repose a while, and then betake themselves to their labors: nay, the wisest of kings points out the ant as an example to those whose only care is to live upon the main stock, neglecting to cultivate the fields of science, and reap a new harvest of discoveries.

We next proceed to the art of delivering, uttering, and communicating such things as are discovered, judged of, and treasured up in the memory; and this we call by the general name of traditive doctrine, which takes in all the arts relating to words and discourse. For although reason be as the soul of discourse, yet they ought both to be treated separate, no less than the soul and body. We divide this traditive doctrine into three parts; viz., with regard, 1, to the organ; 2, the method; and 3, the illustration or ornament of speech and discourse.

The vulgar doctrine of the organ of speech called grammar is of two kinds, the one having relation to speaking, the other to writing. For, as Aristotle well observed, words are the marks of thoughts, and letters of words; and we refer both of these to grammar. But before we proceed to its several parts, it is necessary to say something in general of the organ of this traditive doctrine, because it seems to have more descendants besides words and letters. And here we observe, that whatever may be split into differences, sufficiently numerous for explaining the variety of notions, provided these differences are sensible, may be a means of conveying the thoughts from man to man; for we find that nations of different languages hold a commerce, in some tolerable degree, by gestures. And from the practice of some persons born deaf and dumb, but otherwise ingenious, we see conversation may be held between them and such of their friends as have learned their gestures. And it is now well known, that in China and the more eastern provinces, they use at this day certain real, not nominal, characters, to express, not their letters or words, but things and notions; insomuch, that numerous nations, though of quite different languages, yet, agreeing in the use of these characters, hold correspondence by writing. And thus a book written in such characters may be read and interpreted by each nation in its own respective language.

The signs of things significative without the help or interposition of words are therefore of two kinds, the one congruous, the one arbitrary. Of the first kind, are hieroglyphics and gestures; of the second, real characters. The use of hieroglyphics is of great antiquity, being held in veneration, especially among that most ancient nation, the Egyptians, insomuch that this seems to have been an early kind of writing, prior to the invention of letters, unless, perhaps, among the Jews. And gestures are a kind of transitory hieroglyphics; for as words are fleeting in the pronunciation, but permanent when written down, so hieroglyphics, expressed by gesture, are momentary; but when painted, durable. When Periander, being consulted how to preserve a tyranny newly usurped, bid the messenger report what he saw; and going into the garden, cropped all the tallest flowers; he thus used as strong a hieroglyphic as if he had drawn it upon paper.

Again, it is plain that hieroglyphics and gestures have always some similitude with the things signified, and are in reality emblems; whence we call them congruous marks of things: but real characters have nothing of emblem, as being no less mute than the elementary letters themselves, and invented altogether at discretion, though received by custom as by a tacit agreement. Yet it is manifest that a great number of them is required in writing; for they must be as numerous as the radical words. This doctrine, therefore, concerning the organ of speech, that is, the marks of things, we set down as wanting; for although it may seem a matter of little use, while words and writing with letters are much more commodious organs of delivery; yet we think proper here to mention it as no inconsiderable thing. For while we are treating, as it were, of the coin of intellectual matters, it is not improper to observe that as money may be made of other materials besides gold and silver, so other marks of things may be invented besides words and letters.

Grammar holds the place of a conductor in respect of the other sciences; and though the office be not noble, it is extremely necessary, especially as the sciences in our times are chiefly derived from the learned languages. Nor should this art be thought of small dignity, since it acts as an antidote against the curse of Babel, the confusion of tongues. Indeed, human industry strongly endeavors to recover those enjoyments it lost through its own default. Thus it guards against the first general curse, the sterility of the earth, and the eating our bread in the sweat of the brow, by all the other arts; as against the second, the confusion of languages, it calls in the assistance of grammar. Though this art is of little use in any maternal language, but more serviceable in learning the foreign ones, and most of all in the dead ones, which now cease to be popular, and are only preserved in books.

We divide grammar also into two parts—literary and philosophical; the one employed simply about tongues themselves, in order to their being more expeditiously learned or more correctly spoken, but the other is in some sort subservient to philosophy; in which view Cæsar wrote his books of Analogy, though we have some doubt whether they treated of the philosophical grammar now under consideration. We suspect, however, that they contained nothing very subtile or sublime, but only delivered precepts of pure and correct discourse, neither corrupted by any vulgar, depraved phrases, and customs of speech, nor vitiated by affectation; in which particular the author himself excelled. Admonished by this procedure, I have formed in my thoughts a certain grammar, not upon any analogy which words bear to each other, but such as should diligently examine the analogy or relation between words and things, yet without any of that hermeneutical doctrine, or doctrine of interpretation, which is subservient to logic. It is certain that words are the traces or impressions of reason; and impressions afford some indication of the body that made them. I will, therefore, here give a small sketch of the thing.

And first, we cannot approve that curious inquiry, which Plato however did not contemn, about the imposition and original etymology of names, as supposing them not given arbitrarily at first, but rationally and scientifically derived and deduced. This indeed is an elegant, and, as it were, a waxen subject, which may handsomely be wrought and twisted; but because it seems to search the very bowels of antiquity, it has an awful appearance, though attended with but little truth and advantage. But it would be a noble kind of a grammar, if any one, well versed in numerous languages, both the learned and vulgar, should treat of their various properties, and show wherein each of them excelled and fell short; for thus languages might be enriched by mutual commerce, and one beautiful image of speech, or one grand model of language for justly expressing the sense of the mind, formed, like the Venus of Apelles, from the excellences of several. And thus we should, at the same time, have some considerable marks of the genius and manners of people and nations from their respective languages. Cicero agreeably remarks, that the Greeks had no word to express the Latin ineptum; “because,” says he, “the fault it denotes was so familiar among them, that they could not see it in themselves”; a censure not unbecoming the Roman gravity. And as the Greeks used so great a licentiousness in compounding words, which the Romans so religiously abstained from, it may hence be collected that the Greeks were better fitted for arts, and the Romans for exploits; as variety of arts makes compound words in a manner necessary, while civil business, and the affairs of nations, require a greater simplicity of expression. The Jews were so averse to these compositions, that they would rather strain a metaphor than introduce them. Nay, they used so few words and so unmixed, that we may plainly perceive from their language they were a Nazarite people, and separate from other nations. It is also worth observing, though it may seem a little ungrateful to modern ears, that the ancient languages are full of declensions, cases, conjugations, tenses, and the like; but the later languages, being almost destitute of them, slothfully express many things by prepositions and auxiliary verbs. For from hence it may easily be conjectured, that the genius of former ages, however we may flatter ourselves, was much more acute than our own. And there are things enough of this kind to make a volume. It seems reasonable, therefore, to distinguish a philosophical grammar from a simple literary one, and to set it down as deficient.

All the accidence of words—as sound, measure, accent—likewise belong to grammar; but the primary elements of simple letters, or the inquiry with what percussion of the tongue, opening of the mouth, motion of the lips, and use of the throat, the sound of each letter is produced, has no relation to grammar, but is a part of the doctrine of sounds, to be treated under sense and sensible objects. The grammatical sound we speak of regards only sweetness and harshness. Some harsh and sweet sounds are general; for there is no language but in some degree avoids the chasms of concurring vowels or the roughness of concurring consonants. There are others particular or respective, and pleasing or displeasing to the ears of different nations. The Greek language abounds in diphthongs, which the Roman uses much more sparingly, and so of the rest. The Spanish tongue avoids letters of a shrill sound, and changes them into letters of a middle tone. The languages of the Teutonic stock delight in aspirates, and numerous others which we have not space to cite.

But the measure of words has produced a large body of art; viz., poetry, considered not with regard to its matter, which was considered above, but its style and the structure of words; that is, versification; which, though held as trivial, is honored with great and numerous examples. Nor should this art, which the grammarians call prosodia, be confined only to teaching the kinds of verse and measure; but precepts also should be added, as to what kind of verse is agreeable to every subject. The ancients applied heroic verse to encomium, elegy to complaint, iambic to invective, and lyric to ode and hymn; and the same has been prudently observed by the modern poets, each in his own language: only they deserve censure in this, that some of them, through affectation of antiquity, have endeavored to set the modern languages to ancient measure; as sapphic, elegiac, etc., which is both disagreeable to the ear, and contrary to the structure of such languages. And in these cases, the judgment of the sense is to be preferred to the precepts of art. As the poet says,

Nor is this an art, but the abuse of art, as it does not perfect nature, but corrupt her. As to poetry, both with regard to its fable and its verse, it is like a luxuriant plant, sprouting not from seed, but by the mere vigor of the soil; whence it everywhere creeps up, and spreads itself so wide, that it were endless to be solicitous about its defects. And as to the accents of words, there is no necessity for taking notice of so trivial a thing; only it may be proper to intimate, that these are observed with great exactness, while the accents of sentences are neglected; though it is nearly common to all mankind to sink the voice at the end of a period, to raise it in interrogation, and the like. And so much for that part of grammar which regards speaking.

Writing is practiced either by means of the common alphabet, now vulgarly received, or of a secret and private one, agreed upon between particular persons, and called by the name of cipher. But here a question arises about the common orthography; viz., whether words should be wrote as they are pronounced, or after the common manner? Certainly that reformed kind of writing, according to the pronunciation, is but a useless speculation, because pronunciation itself is continually changing, and the derivations of words, especially from the foreign languages, are very obscure; and lastly, as writing in the received manner no way obstructs the manner of pronunciation, but leaves it free, an innovation in it is to no purpose.

There are several kinds of ciphers, as the simple, those mixed with non-significants, those consisting of two kinds of characters, wheel-ciphers, key-ciphers, word-ciphers, etc. There are three properties required in ciphers; viz., 1, that they be easy to write and read; 2, that they be trusty and undecipherable; and 3, if possible, clear of suspicion. For if a letter should come into the hands of such as have a power over the writer or receiver, though the cipher itself be trusty and impossible to decipher, it is still subject to examination and question, unless there be no room to suspect or examine it.

There is a new and useful invention to elude the examination of a cipher; viz., to have two alphabets, the one of significant, and the other of non-significant letters; and folding up two writings together, the one conveying the secret, while the other is such as the writer might probably send without danger. In case of a strict examination about the cipher, the bearer is to produce the non-significant alphabet for the true, and the true for the non-significant; by which means the examiner would fall upon the outward writing, and finding it probable, suspect nothing of the inner.

But to prevent all suspicion, we shall here annex a cipher of our own, that we devised at Paris in our youth, and which has the highest perfection of a cipher—that of signifying omnia per omnia (anything by everything), provided only the matter included be five times less than that which includes it, without any other condition or limitation. The invention is this: first let all the letters of the alphabet be resolved into two only, by repetition and transposition; for a transposition of two letters through five places, or different arrangements, will denote two-and-thirty differences, and consequently fewer, or four-and-twenty, the number of letters in our alphabet, as in the following example: