Deformities of Samuel Johnson, Selected from his Works Part 4

The Essay on Man, he says, 'affords an egregious instance of the predominance of genius, the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers of eloquence. The reader feels his mind full, though he learns NOTHING; and when he meets it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his mother, and his nurse[101].' If the conversations of Dr Johnson's mother and his nurse were equal to Mr Pope's verses, it is a pity the Doctor had not preserved them. He could hardly have spent his time so well. And it is a wonder that with so many rare opportunities of improvement, the Doctor has never yet eclipsed his nurse. Voltaire p.r.o.nounces Pope's Essay to be the finest didactick poem in the world, and he would no doubt have replied to the Doctor's objections in that tone of contempt with which the Doctor replied to some of his--'These are the petty cavils of petty minds[102].'

In the Essay on Man 'so little was any evil tendency discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious, many read it for a manual of piety[103];'--and will continue to read it, when the cavils of Dr Johnson are forgotten or despised.

'He (Pope) nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of Kings.' And again, 'He gratified that ambitious petulance with which he affected to insult the great[104].'

Dr Johnson himself is by no means remarkable for his respect to the great. In the preface to his folio Dictionary, he tells us, that it was written 'without any patronage of the _great_,' which is a mistake; for he had published a pamphlet, some years before, wherein he acknowledges, that Chesterfield had patronized him; and why the Doctor should retract his own words, it is hard to say; for Chesterfield continued his friend to the last; and such a man was very likely _the strongest spoke in the Doctor's wheel_. But his Lords.h.i.+p is now dead, and the Doctor is always and eminently _grateful_.

'It has been maintained by some, _who love to talk of what they do not know_, that pastoral is the _most antient_ poetry.' But in the next period, 'pastoral poetry was the _first_ employment of the human imagination[105].' The Doctor, therefore, by his own account, is one of those, _who love to talk of_ (and what is yet worse, to a.s.sert) _what they do not know_. In North America, the natives have no conception of pastoral life among themselves, and their poetry, such as it is, hath no relation to that state of society.

Pastoral poetry 'is generally pleasing, because it entertains the mind with representations of scenes, familiar to _almost every_ imagination, and of which _all_ can equally judge whether they are well described, or not[106].'

This period is so closely interwoven with nonsense, that it will take some pains to disentangle it. Rural scenes are not familiar to _almost every_ imagination. In England half the people are shut up in large towns, and such is the gross ignorance of some of them, that an old woman in London once asked, _whether potatoes grew on trees_. Neither is every man an equal judge even of what is familiar to him. Observe how the Rambler confounds the distinction between _all_, and _almost every_.

The whole number is in the same stile.

'At this time a long course of opposition to Sir Robert Walpole had filled the nation with clamours for liberty, of which no man felt the want, and with care for liberty which was not in danger[107].'

No man was more violent than Dr Johnson in abusing Walpole. We have already seen some of those political definitions, which at this hour deform the Doctor's Dictionary. His late zeal for government could arise from self interest only. And to take his own words, he comes under suspicion _as a wretch hired to vindicate the late measures of the Court_[108]. He accuses Milton as a tool of authority, as a forger hired to a.s.sa.s.sinate the memory of Charles I. These charges came with a very bad grace from the Rambler. They are long since refuted in a separate publication, and yet they will be reprinted in every future edition of his book.

Will any man be the wiser, the better, or the merrier, by reading what follows--'Lyttleton was his (Shenstone's) neighbour, and his rival, whose empire, s.p.a.cious and opulent, looked with disdain on the _petty state_ that appeared behind it. For a while the inhabitants of Hagley affected to tell their acquaintance of the _little fellow_ that was trying to make himself admired; but when by degrees the Leasowes forced themselves into notice, they took care to defeat the curiosity which they could not suppress, by conducting their visitants perversely to inconvenient points of view, and introducing them at the wrong end of a walk to detect a deception; injuries of which Shenstone would heavily complain[109].' The paragraph closes with a _deep_ observation.

As the Doctor's own a.s.sociates[110] have lamented the existence of this beautiful and important pa.s.sage, I have only to say, that _Poor_ Lyttleton (as the Doctor calls him) patronized Fielding, and that the Rambler patronizes William Shaw: That his Lords.h.i.+p was an elegant writer: That he did not adopt Johnson's new words: That _Lexiphanes_ was dedicated to him: That he was a great and an amiable man: And that he is _dead_.

With all his affectation of hard words, the Doctor becomes at once intelligible when he wishes to reprobate a rival genius, or insult the ashes of a benefactor. In defiance of Addison, and a thousand other _shallow fellows_, he a.s.serts that Milton 'both in prose and verse had formed his stile by a _perverse_ and _pedantick_ principle[111].'

Speaking of Mr Walmsley, he says, 'At this man's table I enjoyed many chearful and agreeable hours, with companions such as are not often to be found.--I am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. He never received _my_ notions with contempt.--He was one of the first friends whom literature procured me,--and I hope that at least my _grat.i.tude_ made me worthy of his notice. It may be doubted whether a day now pa.s.ses, in which I have not some advantage from his friends.h.i.+p[112].'

But then, 'He was a WHIG with ALL the virulence and malevolence of _his_ party.' This is a most beautiful conclusion; and quite in the Doctor's stile. His accusation is incredible. A monster, such as he draws here, can seldom deform existence.

We are told that at St. Andrews Cardinal Beaton 'was murdered by the ruffians of Reformation[113].' And it seems to be the fas.h.i.+on of the day, to censure that action. Yet it is allowed on all hands that Wishart's doctrine, in spite of its _incomprehensibilities_, was better than Popery--that Beaton, a profligate usurping Priest, had committed every human vice--that, without civil authority, he dragged our Apostle to the stake--and that his avowed design was to expell or exterminate the whole Protestant party. Had the Cardinal been permitted to complete his plan, we durst not at this day have disputed, 'Whether it is better to wors.h.i.+p a piece of rotten wood[114], or throw it in the fire?' It is therefore evident that to kill this tyrant was highly proper and laudable. We may just as well censure the centurion who slew Caligula.

When a philosopher, who truly deserves that t.i.tle, was once in conversation reprobating Melvil, he was interrupted by this, simple question, Whether if his own antagonist had conducted _him_ to the stake, he would not have pardoned a pupil for avenging his blood? 'I would most certainly,' he replied, and such must be the real sentiments of all men, whatever they may chuse to print. When we attempt to hide the feelings of nature, that we may support a favourite system, we never fail to become ridiculous. In this age and nation, if a magistrate shall rise above the law; if he rob us of life with the most barbarous exulation; if his guilt equal whatever history hath recorded; if he want nothing but the purple and the legions to rival Domitian, the voice of nature will be heard. The brave will reject such unmanly, such fatal refinements of speculation. Like Hambden and Melvil, they will stand forth in defence of themselves, and their posterity. They will relieve their fellow citizens from temporal perdition. They will drive insolence and injustice from the seat of power. They will exult in danger, and rush to revenge or death. They will plunge their swords in the heart of their oppressor; or they will teach him, like Charles, to atone upon the scaffold for the tears and the blood of his people; and while in the eyes of their countrymen, they read their glory[115], they will perhaps reflect with a smile, that some slavish pedant, some pensioned traitor to the rights of mankind, is one day to mark them out as objects of public detestation[116].

'The theatre, when it is under any other direction, is peopled by such characters as were never seen, conversing in a language which was never heard, upon topics which will never arise in the commerce of mankind.--Upon every other stage the universal agent is love, by whose power all good and evil is distributed, and every action quickened or r.e.t.a.r.ded. To bring a lover, a lady and a rival into the fable; to entangle them in contradictory obligations, perplex them with oppositions of interest, and harra.s.s them with violence of desires inconsistent with each other; to make them meet in rapture, and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy, and outrageous sorrow; to distress them as nothing human ever was distressed; to deliver them as nothing human ever was delivered, is the business of a modern dramatist. For this probability is violated, life is misrepresented, and language is depraved[117].' The weakest of Dr Johnson's admirers will blush in reading this pa.s.sage. He very fairly denies every degree of merit, to every dramatic writer, of every age or nation, Shakespeare alone excepted. What can be more ridiculous than this?

'Every man finds his mind more strongly seized by the tragedies of Shakespeare than of any other writer; others please us by particular speeches, but he always makes us anxious for the event, by exciting restless and _unquenchable_[118] curiosity, and compelling him that reads his work to read it through[119].' But the Doctor overthrows all this within a few pages, for Shakespeare has '_perhaps_ not _one_ play, which, if it were now exhibited as the work of a cotemporary writer, _would be heard to the conclusion_[120].' The Rambler cannot always suppress his thorough contempt for the taste of the public. He no doubt laughs internally at their folly in admiring him.

I proceed to the Doctor's English Dictionary, and shall begin with quoting the remarks already made by a judicious friend, on this subject.

'Among the many foibles of the human race, we may justly reckon this to be one, that when they have once got any thing really useful, they apply it in all cases, proper or improper, till at last they make it quite ridiculous. Nothing can possibly be more useful than a just and accurate _definition_, because by this only we are able to distinguish one thing from another. It is obvious, however, that _in definitions we ought always to define a thing less known, by one which is more so, and those things which are known to every body, neither can be defined, nor ought we to attempt a definition of them at all; because we must either explain them by themselves, or by something less known than themselves, both of which give our definitions the most ridiculous air imaginable_.

'A certain right reverend gentleman, not many miles from Edinburgh, and whom, out of my great regard for the cloth, I put in the first place, gave the following definition of a thief. "A thief," says he, "my friends, is a man of a _thievish disposition_." Now though this definition is somewhat imperfect, for a thief also exerts that _thievish disposition_ which lurks in his breast, I intend to take it for my model, on account of its great conformity to many of the definitions given by the most celebrated authors.--I remember to have seen in one of the Reviews a definition of _Nature_, which began in the following manner. "Nature is that _innate_ celestial fire."--The rest has in truth escaped my memory, though I remember the Reviewers indecently compared it to the following lines, which they say were a description of a dog-fish.

'And his evacuations Were made _a parte post_.

_A parte post!_ these words so hard In Latin though I speak 'em, Their meaning in plain English is, He made pure _Alb.u.m Graec.u.m_.

'This definition rather goes a step beyond that of the clergyman, as it explains the words _a parte post_ by _Alb.u.m Graec.u.m_, which are more obscure than the former, and neither of which, out of my great regard to decency, I choose to translate.--Whether Dr Johnson composed his dictionary, after hearing the above-mentioned clergyman's sermon, or not, I cannot tell, but he seems very much to have taken him for his model, even though the said clergyman was a Presbyterian, and Dr Johnson has an aversion at Presbyterians. Thus, when he tells us, that _short_ is _not long_, and that _long_ is _not short_, he certainly might as well have told us that a thief is a man of a thievish disposition. I am surprised indeed how the intellects of a human creature could be obscured by pedantry, and the love of words, to such a degree, as to insert this distinction in a book, pretended to be written for the instruction and benefit of society. Much more am I surprised how the authors of all dictionaries of the English language have followed the same ridiculous plan, as if they had positively intended to make their books as little valuable as possible. Nay, I am almost tempted to think, that the readers have a natural inclination to peruse nonsense, and cannot be satisfied without a considerable quant.i.ty of that ingredient in every book which falls into their hands. _Long_ and _short_ are terms merely relative, and which every body knows; to explain them therefore by one another, is to explain them by themselves. But besides this ridiculous way of explaining a thing by itself, pedants, of whom we may justly reckon Dr Johnson the Prince, have fallen upon a most ingenious method of explaining the English by the _Latin_, or some other language still further beyond the reach of vulgar ken. Thus, when Dr Johnson defines _fire_, he tells us it is the _igneous element_. _To water_ (the verb) he tells us, is to _irrigate_, by which no doubt we are greatly edified. _To do_ is to _practise_, and _to practise_ is _to do_, &c.

'But the most curious kind of definitions are these oenigmatical ones of our author, by which he industriously prevents the reader from knowing the meaning of the words he explains. Thus, the _hair_ he tells us is one of the common _teguments_ of the body; but this will not distinguish it from the skin, and shews the extreme poverty of judgment under which the Doctor laboured, when he could not point out the distinguis.h.i.+ng mark between the hair and skin. A dog is "a domestic animal remarkably various in his species," but this does not distinguish him, except to natural historians, from a cow, a sheep, or a hog; for of these there are also different _breeds_ or species. A cat is "a domestic animal that catches mice;" but this may be said of an owl, or a dog; for a dog will catch mice if he sees them, though he does not watch for them as a cat does. Nay, if we happen to overlook the word _animal_, or not to understand it, we may mistake the cat for a mouse-trap. The earth, according to our learned author, is "the element distinct from fire, air, or water;" but this may be light or electricity as well as earth.--Air is "the element encompa.s.sing the terraqueous globe;" but an unlearned reader would be very apt to mistake this for the ocean, &c.

'When the Doctor comes to his _learned_ definitions, he outdoes, if possible, his oenigmatical ones. Network is "any thing _reticulated_ or _decussated_ at equal distances." A nose is "the prominence on the face which is the organ of scent, and the emunctory of the brain."--The heart is "the muscle which by its contraction and dilatation propells the blood through the course of circulation, and is therefore considered as the source of vital motion."--Now let any person consider for whom such strange definitions can possibly be intended. To give instruction to the ignorant they certainly are not designed; neither can they give satisfaction to the learned, because they are not accurate. The nose, for instance, he says is the emunctory of the brain; but every anatomist knows that it performs no such office, neither hath the nose any communication with the brain, but by means of its nerves.--Yet this dictionary is reckoned the best English one extant. What then must the rest be; or what shall we think of those who mistake a book, stuffed with such stupid a.s.semblages of words, for a _learned_ composition?

Definitions undoubtedly are necessary, but not such as give us no information, or lead us astray. Neither can any thing shew the sagacity, or strength of judgment, which a man possesses, more clearly than his being able to define exactly what he speaks about; while such blundering descriptions as these, above quoted, shew nothing but the Doctor's insignificance[121].'

That the courteous reader may be qualified to judge for himself, I shall now insert a variety of quotations from this wonderful, amazing, admirable, astonis.h.i.+ng, incomparable, immortal, and inimitable book. Too much cannot be said in its praise. I shall however let it speak for itself. Every page, indeed, is so pregnant with superexcellent beauties, that in selecting them, the critic's situation resembles that of the schoolman's a.s.s between two bundles of hay; his only difficulty is where to begin. The pious husband of Bathsheba had asked 'What is MAN?' But let it be told in Rome, and published in the streets of Paris, to the honour of the English nation, that her greatest philosopher has received 300l. a-year for informing us that--

MAN is a 'Human being. 2. Not a woman. 3. Not a boy. 4. _Not a beast._'

Woman. 'The female of the human race.' Boy. '1. A male child; not a girl. 2. One in the state of _adolescence_.' Girl. 'A young woman or child.' (_Female_ child he should have said.) Damsel. 'A young gentlewoman; a wench; a country la.s.s.' La.s.s. 'A girl; a maid; A young woman.' Wench. '1. A young woman. 2. A young woman in contempt. 3. A strumpet.' Strumpet. 'A wh.o.r.e, a prost.i.tute.' Wh.o.r.e. '1. A woman who converses unlawfully with men; a fornicatress; an adultress; a strumpet.

2. a prost.i.tute; a woman who receives men for money.' To wh.o.r.e, _v. n._ (from the noun) 'To converse unlawfully with the other s.e.x.' To wh.o.r.e, _v. a._ 'To corrupt with regard to chast.i.ty.' Wh.o.r.edom, _s._ (from wh.o.r.e) 'Fornication.' (Here follow several other definitions on the same pure subject, which every body understands as well as Dr Johnson.) Young. 'Being in the first part of life. _Not old._' Youngster, younker.

'A young person.' (I pa.s.s by _ten_ other articles, about _youthful_ compounded of _youth_ and _full_, &c. &c. because young people are in no danger of thinking themselves old.) Yuck, _s._ (_jocken_, Dutch.) 'Itch,' Old. 'Past the middle part of life; _not young_; not new; ancient; not modern. OF OLD. Long ago; from ancient times.' Hum, interj.

'A sound implying doubt and deliberation, _Shakespeare_.' Fiddlefaddle, _s._ (a cant word) 'Trifles.' Fiddlefaddle, _a._ 'Trifling; giving trouble.'

(----His own example strengthens all his laws, Sam is himself the true sublime he draws.)

Fiddler, _s._ (from _fiddle_) 'A musician, one that plays upon a fiddle.' Here follow fiddlestick, compounded of fiddle and stick, and warranted an English word by Hudibras; and Fiddle-string, _s._ (Fiddle and string) 'the string of a fiddle. _Arbuthnot._' Sheep's eye. '_A modest and diffident look, such as lovers cast at their mistresses._'

Love. 'Lewdness.' And _thirteen_ other explanations. _Lovemonger._ 'One who deals in affairs love.' (Besides about twenty other articles concerning this subject of equal obscurity and importance.) Sweetheart.

'A lover or mistress.' Mistress. 'A woman beloved and courted; a wh.o.r.e, a concubine.' Wife. 'A woman that has a husband.' A Runner. 'One who runs.' Husband. 'The _correlative_ to wife.' Shrew. '_A peevish, malignant, clamorous, spiteful, vexatious, turbulent woman._' Scold. '_A clamorous, rude, mean, low, foul mouthed woman._' Henpecked, _a._ (_hen_ and _pecked_) 'Governed by the wife.' Strap. 'A narrow long slip of cloth or _leather_.' Whip. 'An instrument of correction _tough_ and _pliant_.' Cuckingstool, _s._ 'An engine invented for the punishment of scolds and _unquiet_ women.' Cuckoldom. 'The state of a cuckold.'

(Cuckold, _s._ Cuckold, _v. a._ Cuckoldy, _a._ and Cuckoldmaker, _s._ (compounded of _cuckold_, and _maker_) I leave out, as the reader is, perhaps, already initiated in the mysteries of that subject.) a.r.s.e, _s._ 'The b.u.t.tocks' To hang an a.r.s.e. 'To be tardy, sluggish' b.u.t.tock. 'The rump, the part near the _tail_' Rump. '1. The end of the backbone. 2.

The b.u.t.tocks.' Thimble. 'A metal cover by which women (yea and _taylors_ too Doctor) secure their fingers from the needle.' Needle. 'A small instrument pointed at one end to pierce cloth, and _perforated_ at the other to receive the thread.' Gunpowder. '_The powder put into guns to be fired._' Maidenhead. Maidenhode. Maidenhood. 'Virginity, virgin purity, freedom from contamination.' Oh, _interj_ 'An exclamation denoting pain, sorrow, or surprise.' Hope '_That which gives_ HOPE. _The object of_ HOPE.' Fear. '1. Dread; horror; apprehension of danger. 2.

Awe; dejection of mind. 3. Anxiety, solicitude,' &c. Impatience. 'Heat of pa.s.sion; _inability_ to suffer delay, eagerness.' Virgin. '_A woman not a mother._' Virginity. 'Maidenhead; unacquaintance with man.' Fart.

'Wind from behind. _Suckling_' To fart. 'To break wind behind. _Swift._'

Marriage. 'The act of uniting a man and woman for life.' Repentance.

'Sorrow for any thing past.' Kiss. 'Salute given by joining lips.'

Kisser. 'One that Kisses.' To p.i.s.s, _v. n._ 'To make water.

_L'Estrange._' p.i.s.s _s._ (from the verb) 'Urine; animal water. _Pope._'

p.i.s.sburnt, _a._ 'Stained with urine.' Pedant. 'A man vain of _low_ knowledge.'

Of these extracts, I suppose opinion is uniform. Every man who reads them, reads them with contempt. To tell us that a _man_ is not a _beast_, seems to be an insult, rather than a definition. To say, that _young_ is _not old_, and, that _old_ is _not young, of old_, &c. is to say nothing at all. There is a medium; there is a state between these periods of life. And his definitions convey no meaning; for a man may be _not old_ tho' he is _not young_. Many articles, such as whoring, wh.o.r.emaster, wh.o.r.emonger, whorishly, &c. are as indecent, as they are impertinent, and seem only designed to divert school boys. Hum, Yuck, Fiddle, Fiddler, Fiddlefaddle, _s._ Fiddlefaddle, _a._ Fiddlestick, Fiddlestring, Thimble, Needle, Gunpowder, Hope, O, and O--and Oh, and twenty-eight or thirty explanations of the particle _on_, are left without remark to the reader's penetration. Some are well enough acquainted with a _maidenhead_, and such as are not, will be no wiser by reading Dr Johnson: For he says, That it is _virginity_, and that again is explained (like more than half the words in his book) by the word it explains. Neither can a _maidenhead_ ensure freedom from _pollution_; for a girl may be polluted, without losing her _maidenhead_; and on the other hand, the Doctor dare not say that a _married_ woman is, for that reason, _polluted_. Love, he calls _lewdness_, and he may as well say, that _light_ is _darkness_. His admirers will answer, that he also gives the right meaning; but let them tell, why he gave any besides the right meaning, and why he collected such a load of blunders into his book. Or since he did collect them, why he did not mark them down as wrong. For in the preface to his octavo, he tells us, that it is written for 'explaining terms of science.' But to select twenty barbarous misapplications of a word, is not explaining the word, but only _confusion worse confounded_. Indeed that whole preface is a piece of the most profound nonsense, which ever insulted the common sense of the world. A virgin, is _a woman not a mother_. But many wives, and many concubines too, have never propagated the species, though they had (as Oth.e.l.lo says) a thousand times committed the act of shame. From this literary chaos, a foreigner would be apt to imagine that _they_ were _virgins_.

Corking pin. 'A pin of the largest size.' b.u.m. '_The part upon which we sit._' b.u.t.ter. 'An _unctuous_ substance.' b.u.t.tertooth. '_The_ great broad foretooth.' Off. prep. '_Not on._' Potato. 'An _esculent_ root.'

Turnip. 'A white _esculent_ root.' Parsley, 'A plant.' Parsnep. 'A plant.' Colliflower. '_Cauliflower._' Cauliflower. 'A species of _cabbage_.' Cabbage. 'A plant.' Pit. 'A hole in the ground.' Pin. 'A short wire, with a sharp point, and round head, used by women to fasten their cloaths.' Plate. 'A small shallow vessel of metal (or of stone or wood Doctor) on which meat is eaten.' Play. '_Not work._' Poker. 'The iron bar with which _men_ stir the fire.' Pork. 'Swine's flesh _unsalted_.' (Here you may find _Porker_, _Porkeater_, _Porket_, _Porkling_, with all their derivations, definitions, and authorities.) Porridge. 'Food made by boiling meat in water.' Porridge-pot, (_porridge_ and _pot_) 'The pot in which meat is boiled for a family.'

Porringer, (from _porridge_) 'a vessel in which broth is eaten.' Part.

'_Some thing less than the whole._' And _thirteen_ other _ramifications_. Pulse. '_Oscillation_; _vibration_.' Puff. 'A quick blast with the mouth.' Vid. in same page, Pudding, _s._ from the _Swedish_, (which is a mistake, for it is from the French _boudin_) _Pudding Pie_, from _Pudding_ and _Pie_, and _Pudding-time_, from _Pudding_ and _time_. Puddle, _s._ Puddle, _v. a._ & Puddly, &c. Shadow.

'_Opacity_, darkness, _Shade._' Shade. 'The cloud or _opacity_ made by interception of the light.' Darkness. 'Obscurity. _Umbrage._' Shadiness, 'The state of being _shady_; _umbrageousness_.' Shady. 'Full of _shade_; MILDLY _gloomy_.'

(No light, but rather darkness visible.)

Sevenscore. 'Seven times twenty.' Shadowy. 'Dark, _opake_.' To yawn. 'To gape, to _oscitate_,' Yawn, _s._ '_Oscitation_, HIATUS.' Yea. 'Yes.'

Yes, 'A term of affirmation, the affirmative particle opposed to _no_.'

See also in the same place, Yest. Year. (12 months) Yesterday, _s._ The day last past, the next day before to-day. Yesterday, _ad._ Yesternight, _s._ Yesternight, _ad._ Yet, _con._ Yet, _ad._ Nine times explained.

Vent. 'A small _aperture_; a hole; a _spiracle_.' Wind. 'A _flowing_ wave of air; _flatulence_; windiness.' Winker. 'One who winks.' To wink. 'To shut the eyes.'

(No, Sir, unless you open them again directly.)

Window. 'An _aperture_ in a building by which air and light are _intromitted_.' _N. B._ Almost the whole of the same page is daubed over with such jargon. Said. 'Aforesaid.' Scoundrel. 'A mean rascal; a low petty villain.' Rascal. 'A mean fellow; a scoundrel.' Villain. 'A wicked wretch.' Wretch. 'A miserable mortal.' No, _ad._ 'The word of refusal.

2. The word of denial.' No, _a._ '1. Not any; NONE. 2. _No one_; NONE: _not any one_.' (Had this word _none_ altered its meaning, before the Doctor got to the end of the line?) n.o.body. (_No_ and _body_) 'No one; not any one.' (See also Nod, _v. a._ Nod, _s._ Nodder. Noddle. Noddy, &c.) None. '1. Not one. 2. Not any. 3. Not other.' Nothing. '_Negation_ of being; not any thing,' and _seventeen_ other definitions. Afore. (_a_ and _fore_) '_before_, nearer in place to any thing.'

'There is a certain line, beyond which, if ridicule attempts to go, it becomes itself ridiculous, and there is a sphere of criticism in that particular region, in which, if the critic plays his batteries on too _contemptible_ objects, he must unavoidably depart from his proper dignity, and must himself be an object of the raillery he would convey[122].'