An apology for the study of northern antiquities — Inside the Classic

A Defense Through Poetic Evidence

Elstob's method is strikingly empirical. Rather than argue abstractly about the dignity of northern tongues, she assembles a string of quotations from canonical English poets to show that monosyllabic verse—far from being harsh or crude—is the vehicle of some of the most admired lines in the language. She cites Spenser's Faerie Queene (“More old than Jove, whom thou at first didst breed”), Cowley's odes (“Tell me, O tell, what kind of thing is Wit”), and Waller's couplets (“Give us new rules, and set our Harp in Tune”). Each example is chosen to demonstrate that monosyllables can carry weight, emotion, and music. The cumulative effect is a kind of counter-canon, a jury of poets testifying on behalf of the native English word-stock.

The Politics of Language in 1715

Elstob's Apology enters a specific cultural fray. As Charles Peake's introduction notes, the pamphlet wars following Swift's Proposal for Correcting, Improving and Ascertaining the English Tongue (1712) were heavily politicized. Swift's opponents often attacked his linguistic proposals as a cover for Tory or Jacobite agendas. Elstob, by contrast, sidesteps factional name-calling. She aligns herself with the antiquarian tradition of George Hickes (to whom her grammar is indebted) and with a broader European humanist interest in the Gothic and Saxon roots of vernacular languages. Her defense is scholarly, not partisan—though the very act of championing Saxon studies in 1715 carried implicit political weight, given the period's anxieties about national identity and the legacy of the Norman Conquest.

Monosyllables as a Mark of Strength

Elstob's central rhetorical move is to invert the charge of poverty. Where critics saw monosyllables as a sign that English lacked the polysyllabic dignity of Latin or French, she presents them as evidence of the language's ancient, native vigor. She marshals authorities from Ben Jonson (“Thy Praise or Dispraise is to me alike”) to Lord Roscommon (“Use is the Judge, the Law, and Rule of Speech”) to show that the best English poets deliberately chose short, native words for emphasis and clarity. The argument is not merely defensive; it is a positive assertion that English poetic tradition—rooted in Saxon rather than Norman or classical sources—has its own distinct strengths. Elstob thus makes a case for the study of northern antiquities as essential to understanding the true character of the English language.

Readers approaching Elstob's Apology should attend to the texture of her quotations: each is a small argument in itself. The work rewards those who read the poetic excerpts aloud, as Elstob clearly intended her evidence to be heard as well as seen. It is a pamphlet that asks to be judged by the ear as much as by the eye, and its defense of northern studies remains a model of how to turn a critic's weapon—the charge of barbarism—into a badge of honor.

I have always loved how Elizabeth Elstob, in her quiet apologia, insisted that our own spare, saxon words carry the true pulse of poetry, even as men scoffed. It makes me think of another gentle defiance, tucked away in 'Oh, Well, You Know How Women Are!' — Themes and Context, which whispers of a similar, stubborn strength. Both are old friends, defending what the world overlooks.