a self-moving power, in short a mind governed by its own laws, and burthened with its own responsibilities, is a simple truth, obvious alike to every unprejudiced individual, high and low, learned and unlearned.

The dull swain

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon;

and it was the chosen theme of Socrates

Whom, well-inspired, the Oracle pronounc'd
Wisest of men.

speech creMind.

59. It is this active energy, this mind or spirit of man, which gives Forms of to speech its forms; that is to say, the characteristics of noun, of verb, ated by the and of those other constituent parts of speech which I have noticed as essential to a combined signification of any thought or feeling. The matter of speech consists in the articulate sounds which serve to express the different forms. These sounds have certain properties common to the bodily organization of man in general, and others which have been differently employed by different nations and communities. The consideration of the former is necessary as a subordinate part of Universal Grammar; the latter belongs to particular grammars, and consequently to the History of Language.

Forms of speech are

mass of man

CHAPTER II.

OF SENTENCES.

60. THE forms of speech to which I have above adverted, thougn we needed by the employ them, with more or less accuracy, from the very dawn of our kind. reason, are far from being obvious to the great mass of mankind. It is a remarkable circumstance in the constitution of our nature, that the most complex things are most familiar to us, that the most general laws, by the very reason that they are most general, and most constantly in action, become habitual to us without our reflecting upon, and consequently without our understanding them. We conform to the complex and intricate laws of sight, we judge of distances and magnitudes by the angles which objects subtend, and yet during a great part of our lives we have not the most distant suspicion that any such things as angles exist, or that they are subtended on the retina; nay, ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and probably a much greater proportion of mankind, exercise the power of vision throughout their whole lives, without so much as wasting a thought on its laws. So it is in regard to speech. All men, even the lowest, can speak their mother-tongue; yet how many of this multitude can neither write nor read; how many of those who read know nothing even of the grammar of their own language; and how many who have been instructed so far, have never studied Universal Grammar! The fact is, that men at first regard the practice of speech, as the exercise of some natural faculty, which proceeds spontaneously from the wish of communicating their thoughts and feelings. By and by they observe, that this faculty operates partly from sudden impulses, and gives birth to expressions not easily to be analysed into any component parts, as in the ejaculations of Philoctetes, which fill up many lines of the Greek tragedy, representing his sufferings; and that, on the other hand, it is in far greater part the result of thought, and distinguishable into portions separately intelligible. In analysing these, we at once perceive that every discourse, however long, consists of sentences; and therefore, before I proceed to analyse speech any further, it may be useful to notice the different kinds of sentences.

The sentence.

61. Our word sentence is from the Latin sententia, and that from sentio to feel, to think, to judge; whence in legal language a sentence signified primarily the judgment formed in the judge's mind, and then the same judgment pronounced by him. Grammatically, it answers to the Greek term λόγος, as defined by Aristotle, φωνὴ συνθετὴ σημαντικὴ, ἧς ἔνια μέρη καθ' αυτὰ σημαίνει τι—" a complex significant

66

sound, of which certain parts are significant by themselves;
"* which
definition, so far as it goes, is correct; but for the fuller understand-
ing of the subject, I would suggest the following: A sentence is a
number of words put together, and obtaining from their combination,
a particular power of enunciating some truth, real or supposed, abso-
lute or conditional, or else of expressing some distinct passion, together
with its object." From this definition, it would follow, that the
main distinction in classifying sentences should be into the enunciative,
and the passionate; or, as Harris calls them, sentences of assertion,
and sentences of volition. Other writers have classed them somewhat
differently, but yet with reference to similar principles. Thus Am-
monius states that there are four kinds of sentences besides the
enunciative, namely, the interrogative, the optative, the deprecatory,
and the imperative; but that in the enunciative alone is contained
truth or falsehood.

62. The enunciative sentence, like all others, obtains its power of expressing fact or opinion, by the connection of the words of which it is composed; for Aristotle observes (what indeed is self-evident), that "of those words which are spoken without connection, there is no one either true or false; as for instance, 'man'-' white '— ́ runneth '—' conquereth.'" But let us put together only these two

words

Jesus wept,

and we have recorded an historical fact most affecting in itself, and
furnishing abundant food for deep and interesting meditation.
When we read in Shakspeare—

The quality of mercy is not strained,

we immediately perceive the enunciation of a beautiful truth, which
is again presented under an expressive form to the imagination by the
following lines-

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.

So when Milton says

in the soul

Are many lesser faculties, which serve
Reason, as chief,

a truth respecting our intellectual (as the former did our moral) nature is distinctly asserted.

63. This kind of sentence may enumerate many particulars, all bearing on one point of time, or referring to one general idea: such is the following picturesque delineation of what presented itself to young Orlando, when in pacing through the forest, chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy, he threw his eye aside

*Poetic., s. 34.

The enuncia. tive sentence.

The interrogative sentence.

Such also is the following argumentative sentence in Bishop Taylor's Sermon on the Duties of the Tongue, urging the Christian office of administering consolation to the afflicted :

God hath given us speech, and the endearments of society, and pleasantness of conversation, and powers of seasonable discourse, arguments to allay the sorrow by abating our apprehensions, and taking out the sting; or telling the periods of comfort; or exciting hope; or urging a precept, and reconciling our affections, and reciting promises; or telling stories of the Divine mercy; or changing it into duty; or making the burden less by comparing it with greater, or by proving it to be less than we deserve, and that it is so intended and may become the instrument of virtue.

64. Under the head of enunciative sentences I include the interro-
gative; for the same fact which is simply asserted may be stated as
beyond the sphere of the speaker's knowledge, or as being doubted by
him, and desirable to be known. This is commonly effected in
language by a slight transposition of the words, sometimes by a mere
change of accentuation. As in Sterne's celebrated sermon,
"We trust
that we have a good conscience."-"Trust that we have a good con-
science?" Again, by transposing the lines above quoted, we make
them interrogations-

Is not the quality of mercy strained?
Droppeth it as the gentle rain from heaven?

But it is to be observed, that as some degree of emotion is implied
in the very nature of an interrogation, so it is often used by the poets,
orators, and others, to give life and animation to their style, although
no doubt exists in their mind or that of their hearers, and the matter
which is questioned in point of form, is meant to be asserted in point
of fact. Thus when the poet says―

who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd?

he means positively to assert that no one ever quitted life with indifference. The humorous speech of Falstaff, when personating the king, illustrates our observation

A

Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher, and eat blackberries? question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses? A question to be asked."

tional sen.

65. Again, the enunciative sentence may be conditional or con- The conditingent; that is, it may be placed in dependence on, or in counter-tence. balance against, some other truth; as in Macbeth

If it were done, when 'tis done, then t'were well

It were done quickly.—

Or in Hamlet

Duller should'st thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself at ease by Lethe's stream,

Wouldst thou not stir in this.

Or again in Macbeth, where the contingency takes place in spite of obstacles which might be supposed capable of preventing it—

Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,

And thou oppos'd being of no woman born,
Yet will I try the last.

ate sentence.

66. In all these and similar instances, the enunciation of a truth The passionis the immediate object in view: but another class of sentences owe their form and construction solely to some passion, of which they indicate the object. And it is to be observed, that the indication of an object of passion is essential to the constituting such sentences as these. Thus, when the Nurse, in Romeo and Juliet, on finding her young lady dead, cries and laments vociferously, and the parents enter, asking, "What noise is here? What is the matter?" her answers, "O lamentable day!" "O heavy day," are not sentences; for, though they plainly show the grief with which she is agitated, they do not at all express the cause or object of that grief. But when Hamlet cries

O! that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!

we perceive a distinct expression of the wish to be delivered of life,
as burthensome to him. The sentence is as complete and grammatical,
and much more poetic, than if the place of the interjection O! had
been supplied by a verb; for instead of an impassioned and beautiful
line, it would have been perfectly absurd, if the poet had said—

I wish that this too solid flesh would melt!

67. We may observe, that these passionate sentences combine quite as readily as the enunciative with dependent sentences, as, "O! that I had wings like a dove! Then would I flee away and be at rest; " which implies (but more forcibly) the same fact as the sentence, "If I had wings like a dove, I would flee away," &c.

68. Sentences of the passionate kind either express a passive feeling, as admiration and its contrary, or an active volition, as desire and its contrary. Of the former kind, is that passage of the apostle, "O! the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!" and the line of Milton, comparing the receptacle of the fallen spirits with their former happy seat

O! how unlike the place from whence they fell!