For this is the grand SOCIAL tragedy. It is the tragedy of an
unlearned human society; it is the tragedy of a civilization in which
grammar, and the relations of sounds and abstract notions to each
other have sufficed to absorb the attention of the learned,--a
civilization in which the parts of speech, and their relations, have
been deeply considered, but one in which the social elements, the
parts of life, and their unions, and their prosody, have been left to
spontaneity, and empiricism, and all kinds of rude, arbitrary,
idiomatical conjunctions, and fortuitous rules; a civilization in
which the learning of 'WORDS' is put down by the reporter--invented--
and the learning of 'THINGS'--omitted.
And in a movement which was designed to bring the human reason to bear
scientifically and artistically upon those questions in which the
deepest human interests are involved, the wrong and misery of that
social state to which the New Machine, with its new combination of
sense and reason, must be applied, had to be fully and elaborately
brought out and exhibited. And there was but one language in which the
impersonated human misery and wrong,--the speaker for countless
hearts, tortured and broken on the rude machinery of unlearned social
customs, and lawless social forces, could speak; there was but one
tongue in which it could tell its story. For this is the place where
science becomes inevitably poetical. That same science which fills our
cabinets and herbariums, and chambers of natural history, with mute
stones and shells and plants and dead birds and insects--that same
science that fills our scientific volumes with coloured pictures true
as life itself, and letter-press of prose description--that same
science that anatomises the physical frame with microscopic
nicety,--in the hand of its master, found in the soul, that which had
most need of science; and his 'illustrated book' of it, the book of
his experiments in it, comes to us filled with his yet living, 'ever
living' _subjects_, and resounding with the tragedy of their
complainings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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