William S. Balch - Lectures on Language
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William S. Balch >> Lectures on Language
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"Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares."
"And _sleep_ dull _cares_ away."
Was your sleep refreshing last night? How did you procure it? Let a
person who still adheres to his _neuter_ verbs, that sleep expresses no
action, and has no object on which it terminates, put his theory in
practice; he may as well sleep with his eyes open, sitting up, as to
_lie himself_ upon his bed.
A man lodged in an open chamber, and while he was _sleeping_ (doing
nothing) he _caught_ a severe _cold_ (active transitive verb) and had a
long _run_ of the fever. Who does not see, not only the bad, but also
the false philosophy of such attempted distinctions? How can you make a
child discover any difference in the _act of sleeping_, whether there is
an object after it, or not? Is it not the same? And is not the object
necessarily implied, whether expressed or not? Can a person _sleep_,
without procuring _sleep_?
* * *
"_I stand._"
The man _stands_ firm in his integrity. Another stands in a very
precarious condition, and being unable to retain his hold, _falls_ down
the precipice and is killed. Who is killed? The man, surely. Why did he
fall? Because he could not _stand_. But there is no _action_ in
_standing_, say the books.
"_Stand_ by thyself, come not near me?" "_Stand_ fast in the liberty
wherewith Christ hath made you free, and _be_ not again entangled in the
yoke of bondage." "Let him that thinketh he _standeth_, take heed lest
he _fall_." If it requires no act to _stand_, there can be no danger of
falling.
"Two pillars stood together; the rest had fallen to the ground. The one
on the right was quite perfect in all its parts. The other _resembled
it_ very much, except it had _lost_ its capital, and _suffered_ some
other injuries." How could the latter column, while performing no action
in _standing_, act _transitively_, according to our grammars, and do
something to _resemble_ the other? or, what did it do to _lose_ its
capital, and _suffer_ other injury?
* * *
"To _lie_, or _lay_."
It has been admitted that the verbs before considered are often used as
active verbs, and that there is, in truth, action expressed by them.
But when the man has fallen from his seat and _lies_ upon the floor, it
is contended that he no longer acts, and that _lie_ expresses no action.
He has ceased from physical, muscular action regulated by his will, and
is now subject to the common laws which govern matter.
Let us take a strong example. The book _lies_ or _lays_ on the desk. Now
you ask, does that book perform any action in laying on the desk? I
answer, yes; and I will prove it on the principles of the soundest
philosophy, to the satisfaction of every one present. Nor will I deviate
from existing grammars to do it, so far as real action is concerned.
The book _lies_ on the desk. The desk _supports_ the book. Will you
parse _supports_? It is, according to every system, an active transitive
verb. It has an objective case after it on which the action terminates.
But what does the desk do to _support_ the book? It barely resists the
action which the book _performs_ in lying on it. The action of the desk
and book is reciprocal. But if the book does not act, neither can the
desk act, for that only repels the force of the book in pressing upon it
in its tendency towards the earth, in obedience to the law of
gravitation. And yet our authors have told us that the desk is _active_
in resisting no action of the book! No wonder people are unable to
understand grammar. It violates the first principles of natural science,
and frames to itself a code of laws, unequal, false, and exceptionable,
which bear no affinity to the rest of the world, and will not apply in
the expression of ideas.
I was once lecturing on this subject in one of the cities of New-York.
Mrs. W., the distinguished teacher of one of the most popular Female
Seminaries in our country, attended. At the close of one lecture she
remarked that the greatest fault she had discovered in the new system,
was the want of a class of words to express neutrality. Children, she
said, conceived ideas of things in a quiescent state, and words should
be taught them by which to communicate such ideas. I asked her for an
example. She gave the rock in the side of the mountain. It had never
moved. It could never act. There it had been from the foundation of the
earth, and there it would remain unaltered and unchanged till time
should be no longer. I remarked, that I would take another small stone
and _lay_ it on the great one which could never act, and now we say the
great rock _upholds_, _sustains_ or _supports_ the small one--all active
transitive verbs with an object expressed.
She replied, she would give it up, for it had satisfied her of a new
principle which must be observed in the exposition of all language,
which accords with _facts as developed in physical and mental science_.
I continued, not only does that rock act in resisting the force of the
small one which lays upon it, but, by the attraction of gravitation it
is able to _maintain_ its _position_ in the side of the mountain; by
cohesion it _retains_ its distinct identity and solidity, and repels all
foreign bodies. It is also subject to the laws which govern the earth in
its diurnal and annual revolutions, and moves in common with other
matter at the astonishing rate of a thousand miles in an hour! Who shall
teach children, in these days of light and improvement, the grovelling
doctrine of neutrality, this relic of the peripatetic philosophy? Will
parents send their children to school to learn falsehood? And can
teachers be satisfied to remain in ignorance, following with blind
reverence the books they have studied, and refuse to examine new
principles, fearing they shall be compelled to acknowledge former
errors and study new principles? They should remember it is wiser and
more honorable to confess a fault and correct it, than it is to remain
permanent in error.
Let us take another example of the verb "_to lie_." A country pedagogue
who has followed his authorities most devotedly, and taught his pupils
that _lie_ is a "_neuter verb_, expressing neither action nor passion,
but simply being, or a state of being," goes out, during the
intermission, into a grove near by, to _exercise himself_. In attempting
to roll a log up the hill, he _makes_ a mis-step, and _falls_
(intransitive verb, _nothing_ falls!) to the ground, and the log _rolls_
(_nothing_) on to him, and _lies_ across his legs. In this condition he
is observed by his scholars to whom he cries (nothing) for help. "Do
(nothing) come (intransitive) and help me." They obey him and remain
_neuter_, or at least act _intransitively_, and produce no effects. He
cries again for help and his _cries_ are regarded. They _present_
themselves before him. "Do roll this log off; it will break my legs."
"Oh no, master; how can that be? The log _lies_ on you, does it not?"
"Yes, and it will _press me_ to death." "No, no; that can never be. The
log can not act. =Lies= is a _neuter_ verb, signifying neither _action_
nor passion, but simply being or a state of being. You have a _state_ of
being, and the log has a state of being. It can not harm you. You must
have forgotten the practical application of the truths you have been
teaching us." It would be difficult to explain neuter verbs in such a
predicament.
"Now I _lay_ me down _to sleep_."
"She died and they _laid her_ beside her lover under the spreading
branches of the willow."
"They _laid it_ away so secure that they could never find it."
They _laid_ down to _rest themselves_ after the fatigue of a whole day's
journey.
We have now considered the model verbs of the neuter kind, with the
exception of the verb =to be=, which is left for a distinct
consideration, being the most active of all verbs. It is unnecessary to
spend much time on this point. The errors I have examined have all been
discovered by teachers of language, long ago, but few have ventured to
correct them. An alleviation of the difficulty has been sought in the
adoption of the intransitive verb, which "expresses an action that is
confined to the actor or agent."
The remarks which have been given in the present lecture will serve as a
hint to the course we shall adopt in treating of them, but the more
particular examination of their character and uses, together with some
general observation on the agents and objects of verbs, will be deferred
to our next lecture.
LECTURE IX.
ON VERBS.
Neuter and intransitive.--Agents.--Objects.--No actions as such can
be known distinct from the agent.--Imaginary actions.--Actions known
by their effects.--Examples.--Signs should guide to things
signified.--Principles of action.--=Power=.--Animals.--Vegetables.
--Minerals.--All things act.--Magnetic needle.--=Cause=.--Explained.
--First Cause.--=Means=.--Illustrated.--Sir I. Newton's example.--
These principles must be known.--=Relative= action.--Anecdote of
Gallileo.
We resume the consideration of verbs. We closed our last lecture with
the examination of _neuter verbs_, as they have been called. It appears
to us that evidence strong enough to convince the most skeptical was
adduced to prove that _sit_, _sleep_, _stand_ and _lie_, stand in the
same relation to language as other verbs, that they do not, in any case,
express neutrality, but frequently admit an objective word after them.
These are regarded as the most neutral of all the verbs except _to be_,
which, by the way, expresses the highest degree of action, as we shall
see when we come to inquire into its meaning.
Grammarians have long ago discovered the falsity of the books in the use
of a large portion of verbs which have been called neuter. To obviate
the difficulty, some of them have adopted the distinction of
_Intransitive_ verbs, which express action, but terminate on no object;
others still use the term _neuter_, but teach their scholars that when
the _object_ is _expressed_, it is active. This distinction has only
tended to perplex learners, while it afforded only a temporary expedient
to teachers, by which to dodge the question at issue. So far as the
action is concerned, which it is the business of the verb to express,
what is the difference whether "I _run_, or _run_ myself?" "A man
started in haste. He _ran_ so fast that he _ran himself_ to death." I
strike Thomas, Thomas _strikes David_, Thomas _strikes himself_. Where
is the difference in the action? What matters it whether the action
passes over to another object, or is confined within itself?
"But," says the objector, "you mistake. An intransitive verb is one
where the 'effect is confined within the subject, and does not pass over
to any object.'"
Very well, I think I understand the objection. When Thomas strikes David
the effects of the blow _passes over_ to him. And when he strikes
himself, it "is confined within the subject," and hence the latter is an
_intransitive_ verb.
"No, no; there is an object on which the action terminates, in that
case, and so we must call it a _transitive_ verb."
Will you give me an example of an _intransitive_ verb?
"I _run_, he _walks_, birds _fly_, it _rains_, the fire _burns_. No
objects are expressed after these words, so the action is confined
within themselves."
I now get your meaning. When the object is _expressed_ the verb is
transitive, when it is not it is intransitive. This distinction is
generally observed in teaching, however widely it may differ from the
intention of the makers of grammars. And hence children acquire the
habit of limiting their inquiries to what they see placed before them by
others, and do not think for themselves. When the verb has an objective
word after it _expressed_, they are taught to attach action to it; but
tho the action may be even greater, if the object is not expressed,
they consider the action as widely different in its character, and adopt
the false philosophy that a cause can exist without an effect resulting
from it.
We assume this ground, and we shall labor to maintain it, that every
verb necessarily presupposes an _agent_ or _actor_, an _action_, and an
_object_ acted upon, or affected by the action.
No action, as such, can be known to exist separate from the thing that
acts. We can conceive no idea of action, only by keeping our minds fixed
on the acting substance, marking its changes, movements, and tendencies.
"The book _moves_." In this case the eye rests on the book, and observes
its positions and attitudes, alternating one way and the other. You can
separate no action from the book, nor conceive any idea of it, as a
separate entity. Let the book be taken away. Where now is the action?
What can you think or say of it? There is the same space just now
occupied by the book, but no action is perceivable.
The boy _rolls_ his marble upon the floor. All his ideas of the action
performed by it are derived from an observation of the marble. His eye
follows it as it moves along the floor. He sees it in that acting
condition. When he speaks of the action as a whole, he thinks where it
started and where it stopped. It is of no importance, so far as the verb
is concerned, whether the marble received an impulse from his hand, or
whether the floor was sufficiently inclined to allow it to roll by its
own inherent tendency. The action is, in this case, the obvious change
of the marble.
Our whole knowledge of action depends on an observance of things in a
state of motion, or change, or exerting a tendency to change, or to
counteract an opposing substance.
This will be admitted so far as material things are concerned. The same
principle holds good in reference to every thing of which we form ideas,
or concerning which we use language. In our definition of nouns we spoke
of immaterial and imaginary things to which we gave _names_ and which we
consider as agencies capable of exerting an influence in the production
of effects, or in resisting actions. It is therefore unimportant whether
the action be real or imaginary. It is still inseparably connected with
the thing that acts; and we employ it thus in the construction of
language to express our thoughts. Thus, lions roar; birds sing; minds
reflect; fairies dance; knowledge increases; fancies err; imagination
wanders.
This fact should be borne in mind in all our attempts to understand or
explain language. The mind should remain fixed to the acting substance,
to observe its changes and relations at different periods, and in
different circumstances. There is no other process by which any
knowledge can be gained of actions. The mind contemplates the acting
thing in a condition of change and determines the precise action by the
_altered condition_ of the thing, and thus learns to judge of actions by
their effects. The only method by which we can know whether a _vegetable
grows_ or not is by comparing its form to-day with what it was some days
ago. We can not decide on the improvement of our children only by
observing the same rule.
"By their fruits ye shall know them," will apply in physics as well as
in morals; for we judge of causes only by their effects. First
principles can never be known. We observe things as they _are_, and
remember how they _have been_; and from hence deduce our conclusions in
reference to the _cause_ of things we do not fully understand, or those
consequences which will follow a condition of things as now existing. It
is the business of philosophy to mark these effects, and trace them back
to the causes which produced them, by observing all the intermediate
changes, forms, attitudes, and conditions, in which such things have, at
different times, been placed.
We say, "_trees grow_." But suppose no change had ever been observed in
trees, that they had always been as they now are; in stature as lofty,
in foliage as green and beautiful, in location unaltered. Who would then
say, "trees grow?"
In this single expression a whole train of facts are taken into the
account, tho not particularly marked. As a single expression we imply
that _trees increase their stature_. But this we all know could never be
effected without the influence of other causes. The soil where it stands
must contain properties suited to the _growth_ of the tree. A due
portion of moisture and heat are also requisite. These facts all exist,
and are indispensable to make good the expression that the "tree grows."
We might also trace the capabilities of the tree itself, its roots,
bark, veins or pores, fibres or grains, its succulent and absorbent
powers. But, as in the case of the "man that killed the deer," noticed
in a former lecture, the mind here conceives a single idea of a complete
whole, which is signified by the single expression, "trees grow."
Let the following example serve in further illustration of this point.
Take two bricks, the one heated to a high temperature, the other cold.
Put them together, and in a short time you will find them of equal
temperature. One has grown warm, the other cool. One has _imparted_ heat
and _received_ cold, the other has _received_ heat and _imparted_ cold.
Yet all this would remain forever unknown, but for the effects which
must appear obvious to all. From these effects the causes are to be
learned.
It must, I think, appear plain to all who are willing to see, that
action, as such, can never exist distinct from the thing that acts; that
all our notions of action are derived from an observance of _things_ in
an acting condition; and hence that no words can be framed to express
our ideas of action on any other principle.
I hope you will bear these principles in mind. They are vastly important
in the construction of language, as will appear when we come to speak of
the _agents_ and _objects_ of action. We still adhere to the fact, that
no rules of language can be successfully employed, which deviate from
the permanent laws which operate in the regulation of matter and mind; a
fact which can not be too deeply impressed on your minds.
In the consideration of actions as expressed by verbs, we must observe
that _power_, _cause_, _means_, _agency_, and _effects_, are
indispensable to their existence. Such principles exist _in fact_, and
must be observed in obtaining a complete knowledge of language; for
words, we have already seen, are the expression of ideas, and ideas are
the impression of things.
In our attempts at improvement, we should strip away the covering, and
come at the reality. Words should be measurably forgotten, while we
search diligently for the things expressed by them. _Signs_ should
always conduct to the things _signified_. The weary traveller, hungry
and faint, would hardly satisfy himself with an examination of the
_sign_ before the inn, marking its form, the picture upon it, the nice
shades of coloring in the painting. He would go in, and search for the
thing signified.
It has been the fault in teaching language, that learners have been
limited to the mere _forms_ of words, while the important duty of
teaching them to look at the thing signified, has been entirely
disregarded. Hence they have only obtained book knowledge. They know
what the grammars say; but how to _apply_ what they say, or what is in
reality meant by it, they have yet to learn. This explains the reason
why almost every man who has studied grammar will tell you that "he
_used_ to understand it, but it has all gone from him, for he has not
looked into a _book_ these many years." Has he lost a knowledge of
language? Oh, no, he learned that before he saw a grammar, and will
preserve it to the day of his death. What good did his two or three
years study of grammar do him? None at all; he has forgotten all that he
ever knew of it, and that is not much, for he only learned what some
author said, and a few arbitrary rules and technical expressions which
he could never understand nor apply in practice, except in special
cases. But I wander. I throw in this remark to show you the necessity of
bringing your minds to a close observance of things as they do in truth
exist; and from them you can draw the principles of speech, and be able
to use language correctly. For we still insist on our former opinion,
that all language depends on the permanent laws of nature, as exerted in
the regulation of matter and mind.
* * *
To return. I have said that all action denotes _power_, _cause_,
_means_, _agency_, and _effects_.
* * *
_Power_ depends on _physical energy_, or _mental skill_. I have hinted
at this fact before. Things act according to the power or energy they
possess. Animals walk, birds fly, fishes swim, minerals sink, poisons
kill. Or, according to the adopted theories of naturalists:
Minerals _grow_.
Vegetables _grow_ and _live_.
Animals _grow_, and _live_, and _feel_.
Every thing acts according to the ability it possesses. Man, possessed
of reason, devises means and produces ends. Beasts change locations,
devour vegetables, and sometimes other beasts. The lowest grade of
animals never change location, but yet eat and live. Vegetables live and
grow, but do not change location. They have the power to reproduce their
species, and some of them to kill off surrounding objects. "The
_carraguata_ of the West Indies, clings round," says Goldsmith,
"whatever tree it happens to approach; there it quickly gains the
ascendant, and, loading the tree with a verdure not its own, keeps away
that nourishment designed to feed the trunk, and at last entirely
destroys its supporter." In our country, many gardens and fields present
convincing proof of the ability of weeds to kill out the vegetables
designed to grow therein. You all have heard of the _Upas_, which has a
power sufficient to destroy the lives of animals and vegetables for a
large distance around. Its very exhalations are death to whatever
approaches it. It serves in metaphor to illustrate the noxious effects
of all vice, of slander and deceit, the effects of which are to the
moral constitution, what the tree itself is to natural objects, blight
and mildew upon whatever comes within its reach.
Minerals are possessed of _power_ no less astonishing, which may be
observed whenever an opportunity is offered to call it forth. Active
poisons, able to slay the most powerful men and beasts, lie hid within
their bosoms. They have strong attractive and repelling powers. From the
iron is made the strong cable which _holds_ the vessel fast in her
moorings, _enabling_ it to outride the collected force of the winds and
waves which _threaten_ its destruction. From it also are manufactured
the manacles which bind the strong man, or fasten the lion in his cage.
Gold _possesses_ a power which _charms_ nearly all men to sacrifice
their ease, and too many their moral principles, to pay their blind
devotions at its shrine.
Who will contend that the power of action is confined to the animal
creation alone, and that inanimate matter can not act? That there is a
superior power possessed by man, endowed with an immaterial spirit in a
corporeal body, none will deny. By the agency of the mind he can
accomplish wonders, which mere physical power without the aid of such
mental skill, could never perform. But with all his boasted superiority,
he is often made the slave of inanimate things. His lofty powers of body
and soul bend beneath the weight of accumulated sorrows, produced by the
secret _operations_ of contagious disease, which _slays_ his wife,
children, and friends, who fall like the ripened harvest before the
gatherers scythe. Nay, he often submits to the controlling power of the
vine, alcohol, or tobacco, which _gain_ a secret influence over his
nobler powers, and _fix_ on him the stamp of disgrace, and _throw_
around him fetters from which he finds it no easy matter to extricate
himself. By the illusions of error and vice he is often betrayed, and
long endures darkness and suffering, till he _regains_ his native
energies, and finds deliverance in the enjoyment of truth and virtue.
What is that secret power which lies concealed beyond the reach of
human ken, and is transported from land to land unknown, till exposed in
conditions suited to its operation, will show its active and resistless
force in the destruction of life, and the devastation of whole cities or
nations? You may call it plague, or cholera, or small pox, miasma,
contagion, particles of matter floating in the air surcharged with
disease, or any thing else. It matters not what you call it. It is
sufficient to our present purpose to know that it has the ability to put
forth a prodigious power in the production of consequences, which the
highest skill of man is yet unable to prevent.
I might pursue this point to an indefinite length, and trace the secret
powers possessed by all created things, as exhibited in the influence
they exert in various ways, both as regards themselves and surrounding
objects. But you will at once perceive my object, and the truth of the
positions I assume. A common power pervades all creation, operating by
pure and perfect laws, regulated by the Great First Cause, the Moving
Principle, which guides, governs, and controls the whole.[11]
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