For most other writers who have treated of the art of speaking, have proceeded in such a manner as if upon adepts in every other kind of doctrine they would lay the last touch in eloquence; either despising as little things the studies which we first learn, or thinking them not to fall to their share in the division which should be made of the professions; or, what indeed is next to this, hoping no praise or thanks for their ingenuity about things which, although necessary, lie far from ostentation:  the tops of buildings make a show, their foundations are unseen.”—­Quintiliani de Inst.  Orat., Prooemium.

26.  But the reader may ask, “What have all these things to do with English Grammar?” I answer, they help to show us whence and what it is.  Some acquaintance with the history of grammar as a science, as well as some knowledge of the structure of other languages than our own, is necessary to him who professes to write for the advancement of this branch of learning—­and for him also who would be a competent judge of what is thus professed.  Grammar must not forget her origin.  Criticism must not resign the protection of letters.  The national literature of a country is in the keeping, not of the people at large, but of authors and teachers.  But a grammarian presumes to be a judge of authorship, and a teacher of teachers; and is it to the honour of England or America, that in both countries so many are countenanced in this assumption of place, who can read no language but their mother tongue?  English Grammar is not properly an indigenous production, either of this country or of Britain; because it is but a branch of the general science of philology—­a new variety, or species, sprung up from the old stock long ago transplanted from the soil of Greece and Rome.

27.  It is true, indeed, that neither any ancient system of grammatical instruction nor any grammar of an other language, however contrived, can be entirely applicable to the present state of our tongue; for languages must needs differ greatly one from an other, and even that which is called the same, may come in time to differ greatly from what it once was.  But the general analogies of speech, which are the central principles of grammar, are but imperfectly seen by the man of one language.  On the other hand, it is possible to know much of those general principles, and yet be very deficient in what is peculiar to our own tongue.  Real improvement in the grammar of our language, must result from a view that is neither partial nor superficial.  “Time, sorry artist,” as was said of old, “makes all he handles worse.”  And Lord Bacon, seeming to have this adage in view, suggests:  “If Time of course alter all things to the worse, and Wisdom and Counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end?”—­Bacon’s Essays, p. 64.