CIV.

WHO ARE DESTITUTE OF PRECISION.

To want precision in language is to engender perpetual accusations against our veracity.

Aristotle has cautioned us against the delusion of demanding geometrical accuracy in moral arguments; and we ought not to forget that eclipses can be computed more accurately than they can be observed. Dr. Herschell states, that on the same evening, and with the same telescope, different eyes see with different effects. While to one observer the planet Jupiter has appeared not larger than an inch in diameter, to another it has appeared to be of four inches; and while to a third it has seemed no larger than a pea, to a fourth it has appeared to be as large as the moon!

Different men, perhaps, have different lenses. But is this the case with men's eyes, ears, and judgments, in respect to almost all the affairs of life; and is not this one great cause of all the exaggerations and diminutions we hear and witness every day? To hear with precision, we must have an unembarrassed ear; to see with correctness and certainty, we must have a pure, unadulterated sight; and in both, our judgments must be charged with a correct mensuration of things. Sophocles, I fear, was too correct when he asserted, that opinion, for the most part, is stronger than truth.

Marsyas lost the victory from a want of precision in the judges. Marsyas was declared victor when he played upon the double flute, and Apollo on the lyre;

but when Apollo sung to his lute, the decision was reversed. Marsyas complained that Apollo had blended two distinct arts; singing and playing. This the god answered by showing, that Marsyas had employed his tongue and fingers with his double flute, and that he had done no more in singing to the notes of his lyre. I think it is very evident that Marsyas ought to have been declared victor; for the argument was not who could produce the most agreeable music, but who was the best player upon a musical instrument. Apollo seems to have thought so too; for, had he really thought himself worthy of being declared victor, he would not, I think, have flayed his opponent.

.

Admiral Byng, also, lost his life in consequence of a want of precision in the sentence passed upon him. He was found guilty of not doing his utmost to take and destroy the ships of France, and to assist such of the 'king's ships as were engaged; and that he did not 'exert his utmost power for the relief of St. Philip's 'Castle.' The article on which he was condemned was the twelfth Every person who, in time of action, 'shall withdraw, keep back, or not come into sight, or 'do his utmost, &c., through cowardice, neglect, or disaffection, shall suffer death.' It is very evident from the verdict, and the subsequent appeal of the court to the humanity of the king, that the members of it intended to bring the admiral in guilty, not from cowardice or wilful negligence, but from defect of judgment.

Here we see the vast importance of precision in language. The verdict ought to have been, according to the sense of the court: Guilty of not doing all he

might have done; but neither from cowardice, disaf'fection, nor wilful negligence.'

Instead of this, the verdict acquitted him of cowardice and disaffection, but made no allusion whatever to negligence, which, to have been criminal, ought to have been wilful. Not doing a thing is not always negligence; because we may refrain from doing, on the principle that it ought not to be done.

Byng committed an error in tactics, and the court before which he was tried, committed an error in the construction of language. The court escaped the discipline of the ferula, but the admiral was not quite so fortunate. He suffered through the management of Lord Hardwicke, to screen Lord Anson, and to satisfy the vengeance of a party. On their heads then rest the ignominy and the blood*!

* A want of precision in signals, or in the understanding of them, is often attended by very important consequences. A want of precision, for instance, occasioned that to have been a drawn battle, which might have been a victory, on the part of Lord Rodney, in his encounter with the French fleet in the West Indies.

The weathergage being in favour of the British, the admiral had a prospect of a certain and decisive victory. The signal was made for close battle, and every ship to attack her oppo'site. Neither of these signals were obeyed. The leading ship, in ( place of putting up the helm and bearing down, made sail on the same direction, construing the signal to mean by opposite not 'that immediately to leeward, but the corresponding ship, that is, 'the headmost of the enemy's line.'-Life of Lord Rodney, i., 273.

As none of the captains obeyed these signals, the inference must be, that they were of a nature not sufficiently precise. Insubordination alone, it is supposed, could not have caused such a gross violation of duty.

When two nations enter into a war, it is clear that each nation ought to state the object for which they are about to contend. The argument of Mr. Pitt, therefore, cannot, I think, be considered satisfactory, when he stated to the House of Commons*, that a nation, on entering into a war, is by no means bound to state its objects in clear and positive terms; since, by that confession, it would preclude itself from taking advantage of any fortuitous circumstances which may happen during its continuance.

This by no means follows; since the stating the object of a war does not preclude a nation from taking honest advantages; though it may certainly prevent it, in a variety of instances, from taking dishonest ones.

As to precise pledges of peace, I consider Mr. Fox decidedly correct in asserting, as he frequently did during the French war (particularly in 1800), that where there is a question of peace and war between two nations, that government which refuses to state, with clearness and precision, what she considers a satisfaction, must of necessity feel itself in the wrong.

How many unworthy expedients have warriors and politicians resorted to! Tamerlanet engaged the garrison of Haili to capitulate upon condition that no blood should be spilt. He kept his word. He buried 'them alive.' Mahomet II. ‡, at the taking of Negropont, promised a man to spare his head. He did spare his head; but he 'caused him to be severed through the

*March 24, 1795.

+ Cuspinian de Turcarum Origine, p. 132.

Puffendorf de Jure Nat., v., c. 22.

middle of his body.'

in the same manner.

Cromwell served Charles I. much
He promised him, that not a

hair of his head' should be hurt; nor was it hurt. Philip, Landgrave of Hesse*, was, after the same manner, cheated by Charles V. by an ambiguity of words. Philip was taken prisoner at the battle of Muhlberg, and detained in confinement, in despite of a solemn convention to the contrary. Charles set him at liberty, and arrested him again without any pretext; and when Philip's son-in-law, Maurice, Elector of Saxony, remonstrated with him, Charles replied, that he had never promised not to arrest him again, but that he should not be kept in perpetual confinement. This memorable and disgraceful cheat was accomplished by the Emperor's causing the words 'ewiger gefanguis †,' instead of 'einiger gefanguis į,' to be inserted surreptitiously in the treaty.

The Duke de Choiseul was full of these unworthy practices. The language he adopted in his diplomacy was, therefore, replete with ambiguities. Those he introduced into the subject of epochas and compensations (during the administration of Lord Chatham) he confessed, afterwards, were employed, that the allies might not thoroughly understand the subject in hand; that he might ascertain strictly whether the king of Great Britain actually desired a peace or not; and if it should appear in the negative, that the ambiguities introduced might furnish him with a retreat. He confessed all this; and posterity, for such confession, are under inA perpetual prison.

Vid. Mosheim.

Any prison.