PREFACE.
There is another cauſe of alteration more prevalent than any other, which yet in the preſent ſtate of the world cannot be obviated. A mixture of two languages will produce a third diſtinct from both, and they will always be mixed, where the chief part of education, and the moſt conſpicuous accompliſhment, is ſkill in ancient or in foreign tongues. He that has long cultivated another language, will find its words and combinations croud upon his memory; and haſte and negligence, refinement and affectation, will obtrude borrowed terms and exotick expreſſions.
The great peſt of ſpeech is frequency of tranſlation. No book was ever turned from one language into another, without imparting ſomething of its native idiom; this is the moſt miſchievous and comprehenſive innovation; ſingle words may enter by thouſands, and the fabrick of the tongue continue the ſame, but new phraſeology changes much at once; it alters not the ſingle ſtones of the building, but the order of the columns. If an academy ſhould be eſtabliſhed for the cultivation of our ſtile, which I, who can never wiſh to ſee dependance multiplied, hope the ſpirit of Engliſh liberty will hinder or deſtroy, let them, inſtead of compiling grammars and dictionaries, endeavour, with all their influence, to ſtop the licence of tranſlatours, whoſe idleneſs and ignorance, if it be ſuffered to proceed, will reduce us to babble a dialect of France.
If the changes that we fear be thus irreſiſtible, what remains but to acquieſce with ſilence, as in the other inſurmountable diſtreſſes of humanity? it remains that we retard what we cannot repel, that we palliate what we cannot cure. Life may be lengthened by care, though death cannot be ultimately defeated: tongues, like governments, have a natural tendency to degeneration; we have long preſerved our conſtitution, let us make ſome ſtruggles for our language.
In hope of giving longevity to that which its own nature forbids to be immortal, I have devoted this book, the labour of years, to the honour of my country, that we may no longer yield the palm of philology to the nations of the continent. The chief glory of every people ariſes from its authours: whether I ſhall add any thing by my own writings to the reputation of Engliſh literature, muſt be left to time: much of my life has been loſt under the preſſures of diſeaſe; much has been trifled away and much has always been ſpent in proviſion for the day that was paſſing over me; but I ſhall not think my employment uſeleſs or ignoble, if by my aſſiſtance foreign nations, and diſtant ages, gain acceſs to the propagators of knowledge, and underſtand the teachers of truth; if my labours afford light to the repoſitories of ſcience, and add celebrity to Bacon, to Hooker, to Milton, and to Boyle.
When I am animated by this wiſh, I look with pleaſure on my book, however defective, and deliver it to the world with the ſpirit of a man that has endeavoured well. That it will immediately become popular I have not promiſed to myſelf: a few wild blunders, and riſible abſurdities, from which no work of ſuch multiplicity was ever free, may for a time furniſh folly with laughter, and harden ignorance in contempt; but uſeful diligence will at laſt prevail, and there never can be wanting ſome who diſtinguiſh deſert; who will confider that no dictionary of a living tongue ever can be perfect, ſince while it is haſtening to publication, ſome words are budding, and ſome falling away; that a whole life cannot be ſpent upon ſyntax and etymology, and that even a whole life would not be diſſident; that he, whoſe deſign includes whatever language can expreſs, muſt often ſpeak of what he does not underſtand; that a writer will ſometimes be hurried by eagerneſs to the end, and ſometimes faint with wearineſs under a talk, which Scaliger compares to the labours of the anvil and the mine; that what is obvious is not always known, and what is known is not always preſent; that ſudden fits of inadvertency will ſurprize vigilance, ſlight avocations will ſeduce attention, and caſual eclipſes of the mind will darken learning; and that the writer ſhall often in vain trace his memory at the moment of need, for that which yeſterday he knew with intuitive readineſs, and which will come uncalled into his thoughts to-morrow.
In this work, when it ſhall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewiſe is performed; and though no book was ever ſpared out of tenderneſs to the authour, and the world is little felicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns; yet it may gratify curioſity to inform it, that the Engliſh Dictionary was written with little aſſiſtance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the ſoft obſcurities of retirement, or under the flicker of academick bowers, but amidſt inconvenience and diſtraction, in ſickneſs and in ſorrow: and it may repreſs the triumph of malignant criticiſm to obſerve, that if our language is not here fully diſplayed, I have only failed in an attempt which no human powers have hitherto completed. If the lexicons of ancient tongues, now immutably fixed, and compriſed in a few volumes, be yet, after the toil of ſucceſſive ages, inadequate and deluſive; if the aggregated knowledge, and co-operating diligence of the Italian academicians, did not ſecure them from the cenſure of Beni; if the embodied criticks of France, when fifty years had been ſpent upon their work, were obliged to change its oeconomy, and give their ſecond edition another form, I may ſurely be contented without the praiſe of perfection, which, if I could obtain, in this gloom of ſolitude, what would it avail me? I have protracted my work till moſt of thoſe whom I wiſhed to pleaſe, have ſunk into the grave, and ſucceſs and miſcarriage are empty ſounds: I therefore diſmiſs it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from cenſure or from praiſe.
THE
