



Produced by Louise Hope




[Transcriber's Note:

This text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the "real"
(Unicode/UTF-8) version. In the Latin text, the "oe" diphthong is shown
as [oe] to distinguish it from the two-vowel sequence "oe" ("coeuntia").
The asterism used in the advertising section is shown as ***.

The Prosody section uses letters with macrons and breves ("long" and
"short" marks). In _this section only_, vowels with macron are shown
as CAPITALS, while vowels with breve are shown in {braces}. Long vowels
that are already capitalized (very rare) are shown in [brackets].

This book was written in 1840. It includes material that may be
offensive to some readers. Students should be cautioned that the book
predates "New Style" (classical) pronunciation. Note in particular
the pronunciation of "j" ("Never jam today") and of all vowels ("Yes,
you Can-u-leia").

In the main text, boldface type is shown in +marks+. In the advertising
section at the end, the same +marks+ represent sans-serif type.

Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text, along with some
general notes.]




    [Frontispiece:
    "Painted and Engraved by John Leech, R.C.A."]




                   THE COMIC

                 LATIN GRAMMAR;

        A new and facetious Introduction

                     to the

                  LATIN TONGUE.

          With Numerous Illustrations.


              The Second Edition.


                    London:
          CHARLES TILT, FLEET STREET.
                    MDCCCXL.




  Coe, Printer, 27, Old Change, St. Paul's.




  ADVERTISEMENT

  TO THE SECOND EDITION.


The Author of this little work cannot allow a second edition of it to go
forth to the world, unaccompanied by a few words of apology, he being
desirous of imitating, in every respect, the example of distinguished
writers.

He begs that so much as the consciousness of being answerable for a
great deal of nonsense, usually prompts a man to say, in the hope of
disarming criticism, may be considered to have been said already. But he
particularly requests that the want of additions to his book may be
excused; and pleads, in arrest of judgment, his numerous and absorbing
avocations.

Wishing to atone as much as possible for this deficiency, and prevailed
upon by the importunity of his friends, he has allowed a portrait of
himself, by that eminent artist, Mr. John Leech, to whom he is indebted
for the embellishments, and very probably for the sale of the book, to
be presented, facing the title-page, to the public.

Here again he has been influenced by the wish to comply with the
requisitions of custom, and the disinclination to appear odd, whimsical,
or peculiar.

On the admirable sketch itself, bare justice requires that he should
speak somewhat in detail. The likeness he is told, he fears by too
partial admirers, is excellent. The principle on which it has been
executed, that of investing with an ideal magnitude, the proportions of
nature, is plainly, from what we observe in heroic poetry, painting, and
sculpture, the soul itself of the superhuman and sublime. Of the
justness of the metaphorical compliment implied in the delineation of
the head, it is not for the author to speak; of its exquisiteness and
delicacy, his sense is too strong for expression. The habitual
pensiveness of the elevated eyebrows, mingled with the momentary gaiety
of the rest of the countenance, is one of the most successful points in
the picture, and is as true to nature as it is indicative of art.

The Author's tailor, though there are certain reasons why his name
should not appear in print, desires to express his obligation to the
talented artist for the very favourable impression which, without
prejudice to truth, has been given to the public of his skill. The ease
so conspicuous in the management of the surtout, and the thought so
remarkable in the treatment of the trousers, fully warrant his
admiration and gratitude.

Too great praise cannot be bestowed on the boots, considered with
reference to art, though in this respect the Author is quite sensible
that both himself and the maker of their originals have been greatly
flattered. He is also perfectly aware that there is a degree of
neatness, elegance, and spirit in the tie of the cravat, to which he has
in reality never yet been able to attain.

In conclusion, he is much gratified by the taste displayed in furnishing
him with so handsome a walking stick; and he assures all whom it may
concern, that the hint thus bestowed will not be lost upon him; for he
intends immediately to relinquish the large oaken cudgel which he has
hitherto been accustomed to carry, and to appear, in every respect, to
the present generation, such as he will descend to posterity.




  PREFACE.


A great book, says an old proverb, is a great evil; and a great preface,
says a new one, is a great bore. It is not, therefore, our intention to
expatiate largely on the present occasion; especially since a long
discourse prefixed to a small volume, is like a forty-eight pounder at
the door of a pig-stye. We should as soon think of erecting the Nelson
Memorial in front of Buckingham Palace. Indeed, were it not necessary to
show some kind of respect to fashion, we should hasten at once into the
midst of things, instead of trespassing on the patience of our readers,
and possibly, trifling with their time. We should not like to be kept
waiting at a Lord Mayor's feast by a long description of the bill of
fare. Our preface, however, shall at least have the merit of novelty;
it shall be candid.

This book, like the razors in Dr. Wolcot's story, is made to _sell_.
This last word has a rather equivocal meaning-- but we scorn to blot,
otherwise we should say to be sold. An article offered for sale may,
nevertheless, be worth buying; and it is hoped that the resemblance
between the aforesaid razors, and this our production, does not extend
to the respective _sharpness_ of the commodities. The razors proved
scarcely worth a farthing to the clown who bought them for
eighteen-pence, and were fit to shave nothing but the beard of an
oyster. We trust that the "Comic Latin Grammar" will be found to _cut_,
now and then, rather better, at least, than that comes to; and that it
will reward the purchaser, at any rate, with his pennyworth for his
penny, by its genuine bona fide contents. There are many works, the
pages of which contain a good deal of useful matter-- sometimes in the
shape of an ounce of tea or a pound of butter: we venture to indulge the
expectation, that these latter additions to the value of our own, will
be considered unnecessary.

Perhaps we should have adopted the title of "Latin in sport made
learning in earnest"-- which would give a tolerable idea of the nature
of our undertaking. The doctrine, it is true, may bear the same relation
to the lighter matter, that the bread in Falstaff's private account did
to the liquor; though if we have given our reader "a deal of sack," we
wish it may not be altogether "intolerable." Latin, however, is a great
deal less like bread, to most boys, than it is like physic; especially
_antimony_, _ipecacuanha_, and similar medicines. It ought, therefore,
to be given in something palatable, and capable of causing it to be
retained by the-- mind-- in what physicians call a pleasant vehicle.
This we have endeavoured to invent-- and if we have disguised the
flavour of the drugs without destroying their virtues, we shall have
entirely accomplished our design. There are a few particularly nasty
pills, draughts, and boluses, which we could find no means of
sweetening; and with which, on that account, we have not attempted to
meddle. For these omissions we must request some little indulgence. Our
performance is confessedly imperfect, but be it remembered, that

  "Men rather do their broken weapons use,
  Than their bare hands."

The "Comic Latin Grammar" can, certainly, never be called an
_imposition_, as another Latin Grammar frequently is. We remember having
had the whole of it to learn at school, besides being-- no matter what--
for pinning a cracker to the master's coat-tail. The above hint is
worthy the attention of boys; nor will the following, probably, be
thrown away upon school-masters, particularly such as reside in the
north of England. "Laugh and grow fat," is an ancient and a true maxim.
Now, will not the "Comic Latin Grammar," (like Scotch marmalade and
Yarmouth bloaters) form a "desirable addition" to the breakfast of the
young gentlemen entrusted to their care? We dare not say much of its
superseding the use of the cane, as we hold all old established customs
in the utmost reverence and respect; and, besides, have no wish to
deprive any one of innocent amusement. We would only suggest, that
flagellation is now _sometimes_ necessary, and that whatever tends to
render it _optional_ may, now and then, save trouble.

One word in conclusion. The march of intellect is not confined to the
male sex; the fairer part of the creation are now augmenting by their
numbers, and adorning by their countenance, the scientific and literary
train. But the path of learning is sometimes too rugged for their tender
feet. We pretend not to strew it for them with roses; we are not
poetically given-- nay, we cannot even promise them a Brussels carpet;--
but if a plain Kidderminster will serve their turn, we here display one
for their accommodation, that thus smoothly and pleasantly they may make
their safe ascent to the temple of Minerva and the Muses.




  INTRODUCTION.


Very little introductory matter would probably be sufficient to place
the rising generation on terms of the most perfect familiarity with a
"Comic Latin Grammar." To the elder and middle-aged portion of the
community, however, the very notion of such a work may seem in the
highest degree preposterous; if not indicative of a degree of
presumptuous irreverence on the part of the author little short of
literary high treason, if not commensurate, in point of moral
delinquency, with the same crime as defined by the common law of
England. It is out of consideration for the praiseworthy, though perhaps
erroneous, feelings of such respectable personages, that we proceed to
make the following preliminary remarks; wherein it will be our object,
by demonstrating the necessity which exists for such a publication as
the present, to exonerate ourselves from all blame on the score of its
production.

When we consider the progress of civilization and refinement, we find
that all ages have in turn been characterized by some one distinctive
peculiarity or other. To say nothing of the Golden Age, the Silver Age,
the Iron Age, and so forth, which, with all possible respect for the
poets, can scarcely be said to be worth much in a grave argument; it is
quite clear that the Augustan Age, the Middle Ages, the Elizabethan Age,
and the Age of Queen Anne, were all of them very different, one from the
other, in regard to the peculiar tone of feeling which distinguished the
public mind in each of them. In like manner, the present (which will
hereafter probably be called the Victorian Age) is very unlike all that
have preceded it. It may be termed the Age of Comicality. Not but that
some traces of comic feeling, inherent as it is in the very nature of
man, have not at all times been more or less observable; but it is only
of late years that the ludicrous capabilities of the human mind have
expanded in their fullest vigour. Comicality has heretofore been evinced
only, as it were, in isolated sparks and flashes, instead of that full
blaze of meridian splendour which now pervades the entire mechanism of
society, and illuminates all the transactions of life. Thus in the
Golden Age, there was something very comical in human creatures eating
acorns, like pigs. The Augustan Age was comical enough, if we may trust
some of Horace's satires. Much comicality was displayed in the Middle
Ages, in the proceedings of the knights errant, the doings in Palestine,
and the mode adopted by the priests of inculcating religion on the minds
of the people. In the Elizabethan Age several comic incidents occurred
at court; particularly when any of the courtiers were guilty of personal
impertinence to their virgin queen. It must have been very comical to
see Shakspere holding stirrups like an ostler, or performing the part of
the Ghost, in his own play of Hamlet. The dress worn in Queen Anne's
time, and that of the first Georges, was very comical indeed-- but
enough of this. Our concern is with the present time-- the funniest
epoch, beyond all comparison, in the history of the world. Some few
years back, the minds of nations, convulsed with the great political
revolutions then taking place, were in a mood by no means apt to be
gratified by whimsicality and merriment. Furthermore, certain poets of
the lack-a-daisical school, such as Byron, Shelley, Goethe, and others,
writing in conformity with the prevailing taste of the day, threw a wet
blanket on the spirits of men, which all but extinguished the feeble
embers of mirth, upon which'shocking events' had exercised so
pernicious an influence already: or, to change a vulgar for a scientific
metaphor, they placed such a pressure of sentimental atmosphere on the
common stock of laughing gas, as to convert it into a mere fluid, and
almost to solidify it altogether. It is now exhibiting the amazing
amount of expansive force, which under favourable circumstances it is
capable of exerting. Many causes have combined to bring about the happy
state of things under which we now live. Amongst these, the exertions of
individuals hold the first rank; of whom the veteran Liston, the late
lamented Mr. John Reeve, the facetious Keeley, and the inimitable
Buckstone, are deserving of our highest commendation. And more
especially is praise due to the talented author of the Pickwick Papers,
whose genius has convulsed the sides of thousands, has revolutionized
the republic of letters (making, no doubt, a great many _sovereigns_)
and has become, as it were, a mirror, which will reflect to all
posterity the laughter-loving spirit of his age.

But it is not (as we have before remarked) in literature alone, that the
tendency to the ludicrous is shewn. In many recent scientific
speculations it is strikingly and abundantly obvious-- some of those on
geology may be quoted as examples. The offspring of the sciences-- those
pledges of affection which they present to art, almost all of them, come
into the world with a caricature-like smirk upon their faces.
Air-balloons and rail-roads have something funny about them; and
photogenic drawings are, to say the least, very curious. The learned
professions are all tinged with drollery. The law is confessedly
ridiculous from beginning to end, and what is very strange, is that no
one should attempt to make it otherwise. Medicine is comical-- or rather
tragi-comical-- the disparity of opinion among its professors, the
chaotic state of its principles, and the conduct of its students being
considered. No one can deny that the distribution of church property is
somewhat _odd_, or can assert that the doings-- at least of those who
are destined for the clerical office, are now and then of rather a
strange character. Political meetings are very laughable things, when we
reflect upon the strong asseverations of patriotism there made and
believed. The wisdom of the legislature is by no means of the gravest
class, particularly when it offers municipal reforms as a substitute for
bread. The debates in a certain House must be of a very humourous
character, if we may judge from the frequent "hear hear, and a laugh,"
by which the proceedings there are interrupted. Our risible faculties
are continually called into action at public lectures of all kinds; and
indeed, no lecturer, however learned he may be, has much chance
now-a-days of instructing, unless he can also amuse his audience. Nor
can the various public and even private buildings, which are daily
springing up around us, like so many mushrooms, be contemplated without
considerable emotions of mirthfulness. The new style of ecclesiastical
architecture, entitled the Cockney-Gothic, affords a good illustration
of this remark; but the comic Temple of the Fine Arts, in Trafalgar
Square, is what Lord Bacon would have called a "glaring instance" of its
correctness. The occurrences of the day bear all of them the stamp of
facetiousness. The vote of approbation, lately passed on a certain
course of policy, is a capital joke; the tricks that are constantly
played off upon John Bull by the Russians, French, Yankees, and others,
though somewhat impertinent to the aforesaid John, must seem very
diverting to lookers on. The state of the Drama may also be brought
forward in proof of our position. Tragedies are at a discount; farces
are at a premium; lions, nay goats and monkeys, are pressed into the
service of Momus. Even the various institutions for the advancement of
morals have not escaped the influence of the prevailing taste. To
mention that respectable body of men, the Teetotallers, is sufficient of
itself to excite a smile. In short, look wherever you will, you will
find it a matter of the greatest difficulty to keep your countenance.

The truth is, that people are tired of crying, and find it much more
agreeable to laugh. The sublime is out of fashion; the ridiculous is in
vogue. A turn-up nose is now a more interesting object than a turn-down
coll