ЕПЕА ПТEPOENTA,

PART I.

TO THE

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE

ONE of her grateful Sons,-who always considers acts of voluntary justice towards himself as Favours', -dedicates this humble offering. And particularly to her chief ornament for virtue and talent, the Reverend Doctor BEADON, Master of Jesus College.

Notwithstanding the additional authority of Plato's despicable saying-Cum omnibus solvam quod cum omnibus debeo—the assertion of Machiavel, that-Nissuno confessera mai haver obligo con uno chi non l'offenda3- and the repetition of it by Father Paul, that-Mai alcuno si pretende obligato a chi l'habbi fatto giustitia; stimandolo tenuto per se stesso di farla*—are not true. They are not true either with respect to nations or to individuals: for the experience of much injustice will cause the forbearance of injury to appear like kindness.

2 Senec. de Benefic. lib. vi.

3 Discor. lib. i. cap. xvi.

+ Opinione del Padre Fra Paolo, in qual modo debba governarsi la Republica Veneta per haver perpetuo dominio.

Non ut laudemur, sed ut prosimus.

Equidem sic prope ab adolescentia animatus fui, ut inania famæ contemnam, veraque consecter bona. In qua cogitatione sæpius defixus, facilius ab animo meo potui impetrare, ut (quamvis scirem sordescere magis et magis studia Literarum, maximeque ea quæ proprie artem Grammaticen spectant) nihilominus paulisper, non quidem seponerem, sed remissius tamen tractarem studia graviora ; iterumque in manus sumerem veteres adolescentiæ labores, laboreque novo inter tot Curas divulgarem.-G. J. VOSSIUS.

Le grand objet de l'art étymologique n'est pas de rendre raison de l'origine de tous les mots sans exception, et j'ose dire que ce seroit un but assez frivole. Cet art est principalement recommendable en ce qu'il fournit à la philosophie des matériaux et des observations pour élever le grand édifice de la théorie générale des Langues.-M. Le Président de BROSSES.

ЕПЕА ПТЕPOENTA,

OR THE

DIVERSIONS OF PURLEY.

B.

INTRODUCTION.

-THE mystery is at last unravelled.

I shall no more wonder now that you engross his company at Purley', whilst his other friends can scarce get a sight of him. This, you say, was President Bradshaw's seat. That is the secret of his attachment to the place. You hold him by the best security, his political prejudices and enthusiasm. But do not let his veneration for the memory of the ancient possessor pass upon you for affection to the present.

H.-Should you be altogether so severe upon my politics; when you reflect that, merely for attempting to prevent the effusion of brother's blood and the final dismemberment of the empire, I stand the single legal victim during the contest, and the single instance of proscription after it? But I am well contented that my principles, which have made so many of your way of thinking angry, should only make you laugh. Such however as they are, they need not now to be defended by me: for they have stood the test of ages; and they will keep their ground in the general commendation of the world, till men forget to love themselves; though, till then perhaps, they are not likely to be seen (nor credited if seen) in the practice of many

individuals.

The seat of William Tooke, esq. near Croydon, Surrey. [The persons of the dialogue are, B. Dr. Beadon, afterwards Bishop of Glocester; H. the author; and T. William Tooke, Esq.-EDIT.]

B

But are you really forced to go above a hundred years back to account for my attachment to Purley? Without considering the many strong public and private ties by which I am bound to its present possessor, can you find nothing in the beautiful prospect from these windows? nothing in the entertainment every one receives in this house? nothing in the delightful rides. and walks we have taken round it? nothing in the cheerful disposition and easy kindness of its owner, to make a rational man partial to this habitation?

T.—Sir, you are making him transgress our only standing rules. Politics and compliments are strangers here. We always put them off when we put on our boots; and leave them behind us in their proper atmosphere, the smoke of London.

B.-Is it possible! Can either of you-Englishmen and patriots!—abstain for four-and-twenty hours together from politics! You cannot be always on horseback, or at piquet. What, in the name of wonder, your favourite topic excluded, can be the subject of your so frequent conversations?

T.-You have a strange notion of us. But I assure you we find more difficulty to finish than to begin our conversations. As for our subjects, their variety cannot be remembered; but I will tell you on what we were discoursing yesterday when you came in; and I believe you are the fittest person in the world to decide between us. He insists, contrary to my opinion, that all sorts of wisdom and useful knowledge may be obtained by a plain man of sense without what is commonly called Learning. And when I took the easiest instance, as I thought, and the foundation of all other knowledge, (because it is the beginning of education, and that in which children are first employed,) he declined the proof of his assertion in this instance, and maintained that I had chosen the most difficult: for he says that, though Grammar be usually amongst the first things taught, it is always one of the last understood.

B.-I must confess I differ from Mr. H. concerning the difficulty of Grammar; if indeed what you have reported be really his opinion. But might he not possibly give you that answer to escape the discussion of a disagreeable dry subject, remote from the course of his studies and the objects of his inquiry and pursuit? By his general expression of—what is commonly called Learning—and his declared opinion of that, I can

pretty well guess what he thinks of grammatical learning in particular. I dare swear (though he will not perhaps pay me so indifferent a compliment) he does not in his mind allow us even the poor consolation which we find in Athenæus-et un Larρoi noav,-but concludes, without a single exception, ouder των Γραμματικών μωρότερον.

I must however intreat him to recollect, (and at the same time whose authority it bears,) that-" Qui sapientiæ et literarum divortium faciunt, nunquam ad solidam sapientiam pertingent. Qui vero alios etiam a literarum linguarumque studio absterrent, non antiquæ sapientiæ sed novæ stultitiæ doctores sunt habendi."

H.-Indeed I spoke my real sentiments. I think Grammar difficult, but I am very far from looking upon it as foolish : indeed so far, that I consider it as absolutely necessary in the search after philosophical truth; which, if not the most useful perhaps, is at least the most pleasing employment of the human mind. And I think it no less necessary in the most important questions concerning religion and civil society. But since you say it is easy, tell me where it may be learned.

B.-If your look and the tone of your voice were less serious, the extravagance of your compliment to grammar would incline me to suspect that you were taking your revenge, and bantering me in your turn by an ironical encomium on my favourite study. But, if I am to suppose you in earnest, I answer, that our English grammar may be sufficiently and easily learned from the excellent Introduction of Doctor Lowth: or from the first (as well as the best) English grammar, given by Ben Jonson.

H.-True, Sir. friend's instance.

And that was my first slight answer to our But his inquiry is of a much larger compass than you at present seem to imagine. He asks after the causes or reasons of Grammar: and for satisfaction in them I know

1 Ου γαρ κακως τινι των έταιρων ήμων ελεχθη το, ει μη ιατροι ησαν, ουδεν αν ην των γραμματικών μωρότερον.-Deipnosoph. lib. 15.

2 "Duplex Grammatica; alia civilis, alia philosophica.

"Civilis, peritia est, non scientia: constat enim ex auctoritate usuque clarorum scriptorum.

Philosophica, vero, ratione constat; et hæc scientiam olet.

“Grammatica civilis habet ætatem in qua viget, et illam amplectun