English Past and Present Part 13

Let me instance the word 'preposterous'. It is now no longer of any practical service at all in the language, being merely an ungraceful and slipshod synonym for absurd. But restore and confine it to its old use; let it designate that one peculiar branch of absurdity which it designated once, namely the reversing of the true order of things, the putting of the last first, and, by consequence, of the first last, and of what excellent service the word would be capable. Thus it is 'preposterous', in the most accurate use of the word, to put the cart before the horse, to expect wages before the work is done, to hang a man first and try him afterwards; and in this strict and accurate sense the word was always used by our elder writers{217}.

In like manner 'to prevaricate' was never employed by good writers of the seventeenth century without nearer or more remote allusion to the uses of the word in the Roman law courts, where a 'praevaricator'

(properly a straddler with distorted legs) did not mean generally and loosely, as now with us, one who shuffles, quibbles, and evades; but one who plays false in a particular manner; who, undertaking, or being by his office bound, to prosecute a charge, is in secret collusion with the opposite party; and, betraying the cause which he affects to support, so manages the accusation as to obtain not the condemnation, but the acquittal, of the accused; a "feint pleader", as, I think, in our old law language he would have been termed. How much force would the keeping of this in mind add to many pa.s.sages in our elder divines.

Or take 'equivocal', 'equivocate', 'equivocation'. These words, which belonged at first to logic, have slipped down into common use, and in so doing have lost all the precision of their first employment.

'Equivocation' is now almost any such dealing in ambiguous words with the intention of deceiving, as falls short of an actual lie; but according to its etymology and in its primary use 'equivocation', this fruitful mother of so much error, is the calling by the same name, of things essentially diverse, hiding intentionally or otherwise a real difference under a verbal resemblance{218}. Nor let it be urged in defence of its present looser use, that only so could it have served the needs of our ordinary conversation; on the contrary, had it retained its first use, how serviceable an implement of thought would it have been in detecting our own fallacies, or those of others; all which it can be now no longer.

{Sidenote: '_Idea_'}

What now is 'idea' for us? How infinite the fall of this word since the time when Milton sang of the Creator contemplating his newly created world,

"how it showed, Answering his great _idea_",

to its present use when this person "has an _idea_ that the train has started", and the other "had no _idea_ that the dinner would be so bad".

But this word 'idea' is perhaps the worst case in the English language.

Matters have not mended here since the times of Dr. Johnson; of whom Boswell tells us: "He was particularly indignant against the almost universal use of the word _idea_ in the sense of _notion_ or _opinion_, when it is clear that _idea_ can only signify something of which an image can be formed in the mind". There is perhaps no word in the whole compa.s.s of English, so seldom used with any tolerable correctness; in none is the distance so immense between the frequent sublimity of the word in its proper use, and the triviality of it in its slovenly and its popular.

This tendency in words to lose the sharp, rigidly defined outline of meaning which they once possessed, to become of wide, vague, loose application instead of fixed, definite, and precise, to mean almost anything, and so really to mean nothing, is among the most fatally effectual which are at work for the final ruin of a language, and, I do not fear to add, for the demoralization of those that speak it. It is one against which we shall all do well to watch; for there is none of us who cannot do something in keeping words close to their own proper meaning, and in resisting their encroachment on the domain of others.

The causes which bring this mischief about are not hard to trace. We all know that when a piece of our silver money has long fulfilled its part, as "pale and common drudge 'tween man and man", whatever it had at first of sharper outline and livelier impress is in the end wholly obliterated from it. So it is with words, above all with words of science and theology. These getting into general use, and pa.s.sing often from mouth to mouth, lose the "image and superscription" which they had, before they descended from the school to the market-place, from the pulpit to the street. Being now caught up by those who understand imperfectly and thus incorrectly their true value, who will not be at the pains of understanding that, or who are incapable of doing so, they are obliged to accommodate themselves to the lower sphere in which they circulate, by laying aside much of the precision and accuracy and depth which once they had; they become weaker, shallower, more indefinite; till in the end, as exponents of thought and feeling, they cease to be of any service at all.

{Sidenote: '_Bombast_', '_Garble_'}

Sometimes a word does not merely narrow or extend its meaning, but altogether changes it; and this it does in more ways than one. Thus a secondary figurative sense will quite put out of use and extinguish the literal, until in the entire predominance of that it is altogether forgotten that it ever possessed any other. I may instance 'bombast' as a word about which this forgetfulness is nearly complete. What 'bombast'

now means is familiar to us all, namely inflated words, "full of sound and fury", but "signifying nothing". This, at present its sole meaning, was once only the secondary and superinduced; 'bombast' being properly the cotton plant, and then the cotton wadding with which garments were stuffed out and lined. You remember perhaps how Prince Hal addresses Falstaff, "How now, my sweet creature of _bombast_"; using the word in its literal sense; and another early poet has this line:

"Thy body's bolstered out with _bombast_ and with bags".

'Bombast' was then transferred in a vigorous image to the big words without strength or solidity wherewith the discourses of some were stuffed out, and has now quite forgone any other meaning. So too 'to garble' was once "to cleanse from dross and dirt, as grocers do their spices, to pick or cull out"{219}. It is never used now in this its primary sense, and has indeed undergone this further change, that while once 'to garble' was to sift for the purpose of selecting the best, it is now to sift with a view of picking out the worst{220}. 'Polite' is another word which in the figurative sense has quite extinguished the literal. We still speak of 'polished' surfaces; but not any more, with Cudworth, of "_polite_ bodies, as looking gla.s.ses". Neither do we now 'exonerate' a ship (Burton); nor 'stigmatize', at least otherwise than figuratively, a 'malefactor' (the same); nor 'corroborate' our health (Sir Thomas Elyot).

Again, a word will travel on by slow and regularly progressive courses of change, itself a faithful index of changes going on in society and in the minds of men, till at length everything is changed about it. The process of this it is often very curious to observe; capable as not seldom it is of being watched step by step in its advances to the final consummation. There may be said to be three leading phases which the word successively presents, three steps in its history. At first it grows naturally out of its own root, is filled with its own natural meaning. Presently the word allows another meaning, one superinduced on the former, and foreign to its etymology, to share with the other in the possession of it, on the ground that where the former exists, the latter commonly co-exists with it. At the third step, the newly introduced meaning, not satisfied with its moiety, with dividing the possession of the word, has thrust out the original and rightful possessor altogether, and remains in sole and exclusive possession. The three successive stages may be represented by _a_, _ab_, _b_; in which series _b_, which was wanting altogether at the first stage, and was only admitted as secondary at the second, does at the third become primary and indeed alone.

{Sidenote: _Gradual Change of Meaning_}

We are not to suppose that in actual fact the transitions from one signification to another are so strongly and distinctly marked, as I have found it convenient to mark them here. Indeed it is hard to imagine anything more gradual, more subtle and imperceptible, than the process of change. The manner in which the new meaning first insinuates itself into the old, and then drives out the old, can only be compared to the process of petrifaction, as rightly understood--the water not gradually turning what is put into it to stone, as we generally take the operation to be; but successively displacing each several particle of that which is brought within its power, and depositing a stony particle, in its stead, till, in the end, while all appears to continue the same, all has in fact been thoroughly changed. It is precisely thus, by such slow, gradual, and subtle advances that the new meaning filters through and pervades the word, little by little displacing entirely that which it before possessed.

No word would ill.u.s.trate this process better than that old example, familiar probably to us all, of 'villain'. The 'villain' is, first, the serf or peasant, 'villa.n.u.s', because attached to the 'villa' or farm. He is, secondly, the peasant who, it is further taken for granted, will be churlish, selfish, dishonest, and generally of evil moral conditions, these having come to be a.s.sumed as always belonging to him, and to be permanently a.s.sociated with his name, by those higher cla.s.ses of society who in the main commanded the springs of language. At the third step, nothing of the meaning which the etymology suggests, nothing of 'villa', survives any longer; the peasant is wholly dismissed, and the evil moral conditions of him who is called by this name alone remain; so that the name would now in this its final stage be applied as freely to peer, if he deserved it, as to peasant. 'Boor' has had exactly the same history; being first the cultivator of the soil; then secondly, the cultivator of the soil who, it is a.s.sumed, will be coa.r.s.e, rude, and unmannerly; and then thirdly, any one who is coa.r.s.e, rude, and unmannerly{221}. So too 'pagan'; which is first villager, then heathen villager, and lastly heathen. You may trace the same progress in 'churl', 'clown', 'antic', and in numerous other words. The intrusive meaning might be likened in all these cases to the egg which the cuckoo lays in the sparrow's nest; the young cuckoo first sharing the nest with its rightful occupants, but not resting till it has dislodged and ousted them altogether.

{Sidenote: '_Gossip_'}

I will ill.u.s.trate by the aid of one word more this part of my subject. I called your attention in my last lecture to the true character of several words and forms in use among our country people, and claimed for them to be in many instances genuine English, though English now more or less antiquated and overlived. 'Gossip' is a word in point. I have myself heard this name given by our Hampshire peasantry to the sponsors in baptism, the G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers. I do not say that it is a usual word; but it is occasionally employed, and well understood. This is a perfectly correct employment of 'gossip', in fact its proper and original one, and involves moreover a very curious record of past beliefs. 'Gossip', or 'gossib', as Chaucer spelt it, is a compound word, made up of the name of 'G.o.d', and of an old Anglo-Saxon word, 'sib', still alive in Scotland, as all readers of Walter Scott will remember, and in some parts of England, and which means, akin; they were said to be 'sib', who are related to one another. But why, you may ask, was the name given to sponsors? Out of this reason;--in the middle ages it was the prevailing belief (and the Romish Church still affirms it), that those who stood as sponsors to the same child, besides contracting spiritual obligations on behalf of that child, also contracted spiritual affinity one with another; they became _sib_, or akin, in _G.o.d_; and thus 'gossips'; hence 'gossipred', an old word, exactly a.n.a.logous to 'kindred'. Out of this faith the Roman Catholic Church will not allow (unless indeed by dispensations procured for money), those who have stood as sponsors to the same child, afterwards to contract marriage with one another, affirming them too nearly related for this to be lawful.

Take 'gossip' however in its ordinary present use, as one addicted to idle t.i.ttle-tattle, and it seems to bear no relation whatever to its etymology and first meaning. The same three steps, however, which we have traced before will bring us to its present use. 'Gossips' are, first, the sponsors, brought by the act of a common sponsorship into affinity and near familiarity with one another; secondly, these sponsors, who being thus brought together, allow themselves one with the other in familiar, and then in trivial and idle talk; thirdly, any who allow themselves in this trivial and idle talk,--called in French 'commerage', from the fact that 'commere' has run through exactly the same stages as its English equivalent.

It is plain that words which designate not things and persons only, but these as they are contemplated more or less in an ethical light, words which tinge with a moral sentiment what they designate, are peculiarly exposed to change; are constantly liable to take a new colouring, or to lose an old. The gauge and measure of praise or blame, honour or dishonour, admiration or abhorrence, which they convey, is so purely a mental and subjective one, that it is most difficult to take accurate note of its rise or of its fall, while yet there are causes continually at work leading it to the one or the other. There are words not a few, but ethical words above all, which have so imperceptibly drifted away from their former moorings, that although their position is now very different from that which they once occupied, scarcely one in a hundred of casual readers, whose attention has not been specially called to the subject, will have observed that they have moved at all. Here too we observe some words conveying less of praise or blame than once, and some more; while some have wholly shifted from the one to the other.

Some were at one time words of slight, almost of offence, which have altogether ceased to be so now. Still these are rare by comparison with those which once were harmless, but now are harmless no more; which once, it may be, were terms of honour, but which now imply a slight or even a scorn. It is only too easy to perceive why these should exceed those in number.

{Sidenote: '_Imp_', '_Brat_'}

Let us take an example or two. If any were to speak now of royal children as "royal _imps_", it would sound, and with our present use of the word would be, impertinent and unbecoming enough; and yet 'imp' was once a name of dignity and honour, and not of slight or of undue familiarity. Thus Spenser addresses the Muses in this language,

"Ye sacred _imps_ that on Parna.s.so dwell";

and 'imp' was especially used of the scions of royal or ill.u.s.trious houses. More than one epitaph, still existing, of our ancient n.o.bility might be quoted, beginning in such language as this, "Here lies that n.o.ble _imp_". Or what should we say of a poet who commenced a solemn poem in this fashion,

"Oh Israel, oh household of the Lord, Oh Abraham's _brats_, oh brood of blessed seed"?

Could we conclude anything else but that he meant, by using low words on lofty occasions, to turn sacred things into ridicule? Yet this was very far from the intention of Gascoigne, the poet whose lines I have just quoted. "Abraham's _brats_" was used by him in perfect good faith, and without the slightest feeling that anything ludicrous or contemptuous adhered to the word 'brat', as indeed in his time there did not, any more than adheres to 'brood', which is another form of the same word now{222}.

Call a person 'pragmatical', and you now imply not merely that he is busy, but _over_-busy, officious, self-important, and pompous to boot.

But it once meant nothing of the kind, and 'pragmatical' (like p?a?at????) was one engaged in affairs, being an honourable t.i.tle, given to a man simply and industriously accomplishing the business which properly concerned him{223}. So too to say that a person 'meddles' or is a 'meddler' implies now that he interferes unduly in other men's matters, without a call mixing himself up with them. This was not insinuated in the earlier uses of the word. On the contrary three of our earlier translations of the Bible have, "_Meddle_ with your own business" (1 Thess. iv. 11); and Barrow in one of his sermons draws at some length the distinction between 'meddling' and "being _meddlesome_", and only condemns the latter.

{Sidenote: '_Proser_'}

Or take again the words, 'to prose' or a 'proser'. It cannot indeed be affirmed that they convey any _moral_ condemnation, yet they certainly convey no compliment now; and are almost among the last which any one would desire should with justice be applied either to his talking or his writing. For 'to prose', as we all now know too well, is to talk or write heavily and tediously, without spirit and without animation; but once it was simply the ant.i.thesis of to versify, and a 'proser' the ant.i.thesis of a versifier or a poet. It will follow that the most rapid and liveliest writer who ever wrote, if he did not write in verse would have 'prosed' and been a 'proser', in the language of our ancestors.

Thus Drayton writes of his contemporary Nashe:

"And surely Nashe, though he a _proser_ were, A branch of laurel yet deserves to bear";

that is, the ornament not of a 'proser', but of a poet. The tacit a.s.sumption that vigour, animation, rapid movement, with all the precipitation of the spirit, belong to verse rather than to prose, and are the exclusive possession of it, is that which must explain the changed uses of the word.

{Sidenote: '_Knave_'}

Still it is according to a word's present signification that we must apply it now. It would be no excuse, having applied an insulting epithet to any, if we should afterwards plead that, tried by its etymology and primary usage, it had nothing offensive or insulting about it; although indeed Swift a.s.sures us that in his time such a plea was made and was allowed. "I remember", he says, "at a trial in Kent, where Sir George Rooke was indicted for calling a gentleman 'knave' and 'villain', the lawyer for the defendant brought off his client by alleging that the words were not injurious; for 'knave' in the old and true signification imported only a servant{224}; and 'villain' in Latin is villicus, which is no more than a man employed in country labour, or rather a baily".

The lawyer may have deserved his success for his ingenuity and his boldness; though, if Swift reports him aright, not certainly on the ground of the strict accuracy either of his Anglo-Saxon or his Latin.

The moral sense and conviction of men is often at work upon their words, giving them new turns in obedience to these convictions, of which their changed use will then remain a permanent record. Let me ill.u.s.trate this by the history of our word 'sycophant'. You probably are acquainted with the story which the Greek scholiasts invented by way of explaining a word of which they knew nothing, namely that the 'sycophant' was a "manifester of figs", one who detected others in the act of exporting figs from Attica, an act forbidden, they a.s.serted, by the Athenian law; and accused them to the people. Be this explanation worth what it may, the word obtained in Greek a more general sense; any accuser, and then any _false_ accuser, was a 'sycophant'; and when the word was first adopted into the English language, it was in this meaning: thus an old English poet speaks of "the railing route of _sycophants_"; and Holland: "The poor man that hath nought to lose, is not afraid of the _sycophant_". But it has not kept this meaning; a 'sycophant' is now a fawning flatterer; not one who speaks ill of you behind your back; rather one who speaks good of you before your face, but good which he does not in his heart believe. Yet how true a moral instinct has presided over the changed signification of the word. The calumniator and the flatterer, although they seem so opposed to one another, how closely united they really are. They grow out of the same root. The same baseness of spirit which shall lead one to speak evil of you behind your back, will lead him to fawn on you and flatter you before your face; there is a profound sense in that Italian proverb, "Who flatters me before, spatters me behind".

{Sidenote: _Weakening of Words_}

But it is not the moral sense only of men which is thus at work, modifying their words; but the immoral as well. If the good which men have and feel, penetrates into their speech, and leaves its deposit there, so does also the evil. Thus we may trace a constant tendency--in too many cases it has been a successful one--to empty words employed in the condemnation of evil, of the depth and earnestness of the moral reprobation which they once conveyed. Men's too easy toleration of sin, the feebleness of their moral indignation against it, brings about that the blame which words expressed once, has in some of them become much weaker now than once, has from others vanished altogether. "To do a _shrewd_ turn", was once to do a _wicked_ turn; and Chaucer, using 'shrewdness' by which to translate the Latin 'improbitas', shows that it meant wickedness for him; nay, two murderers he calls two 'shrews',--for there were, as already noticed, male shrews once as well as female. But "a _shrewd_ turn" now, while it implies a certain amount of sharp dealing, yet implies nothing more; and 'shrewdness' is applied to men rather in their praise than in their dispraise. And not 'shrewd' and 'shrewdness' only, but a mult.i.tude of other words,--I will only instance 'prank' 'flirt', 'luxury', 'luxurious', 'peevish', 'wayward', 'loiterer', 'uncivil',--conveyed once a much more earnest moral disapproval than now they do.

But I must bring this lecture to a close. I have but opened to you paths, which you, if you are so minded, can follow up for yourselves. We have learned lately to speak of men's 'antecedents'{225}; the phrase is newly come up; and it is common to say that if we would know what a man really now is, we must know his 'antecedents', that is, what he has been in time past. This is quite as true about words. If we would know what they now are, we must know what they have been; we must know, if possible, the date and place of their birth, the successive stages of their subsequent history, the company which they have kept, all the road which they have travelled, and what has brought them to the point at which now we find them; we must know, in short, their antecedents.

{Sidenote: _Changes of Meaning_}

And let me say, without attempting to bring back school into these lectures which are out of school, that, seeking to do this, we might add an interest to our researches in the lexicon and the dictionary which otherwise they could never have; that taking such words, for example, as ?????s?a, or pa????e?es?a, or e?t?ape??a, or s?f?st??, or s???ast????, in Greek; as 'religio', or 'sacramentum', or 'urbanitas', or 'superst.i.tio', in Latin; as 'libertine', or 'casuistry'{226}, or 'humanity', or 'humorous', or 'danger', or 'romance', in English, and endeavouring to trace the manner in which one meaning grew out of and superseded another, and how they arrived at that use in which they have finally rested (if indeed before our English words there is not a future still), we shall derive, I believe, amus.e.m.e.nt, I am sure, instruction; we shall feel that we are really getting something, increasing the moral and intellectual stores of our minds; furnishing ourselves with that which may hereafter be of service to ourselves, may be of service to others--than which there can be no feeling more pleasurable, none more delightful. I shall be glad and thankful, if you can feel as much in regard of that lecture, which I now bring to its end{227}.

{FOOTNOTES}

{198} ['Frampold', peevish, perverse (_Merry Wives of Windsor_, 1598, ii, 2, 94) is supposed to be another form of 'from-polled', as if 'wrong-headed'. 'Garboil', a tumult or hubbub, was originally _garboyl_, and came from old French _garbouil_ (Italian _garbuglio_). 'Brangle', a brawl, stands for 'brandle' from Old Fr. _brandeler_, akin to 'brandish'.]

{199} ['Dutch' i.e. Teutonic, Mid. High-German _diutsch_, old High-German _diut-isk_ from _diot_, people, and so the people-ish or popular language the mother-tongue, founded on a primitive _teuta_, 'people'. See Kluge _s.v. Deutsch_.]

{200} So in Herrick's _Electra_: