The Century Vocabulary Builder Part 41

RETROSPECT

DO you never, while occupying a dental chair and deploring the necessity that drives you to that uncomfortable seat, admire the skill of the dentist in the use of his instruments? A great many of these instruments lie at his hand. To you they appear bewildering, so slightly different are they from each other. Yet with unerring readiness the dentist lays hold of the one he needs. Now this facility of his is not a blessing with which a gracious heaven endowed him. It is the consequence and reward of hard study, and above all of work, hard work.

You have been ambitious of like skill in the manipulation of words. Had you not been, you would never have undertaken this study. You have perceived that when you speak or write, words are your instruments. You have wished to learn how to use them. Now for every idea you shall ever have occasion to express await throngs of vocables, each presenting its claims as a fit medium. These you must pa.s.s in instantaneous review, these you must expertly appraise, out of these you must choose the words that will best serve your purpose. With practice, you will make your selections unconsciously. You will never, of course, quite attain the infallibility of the dentist; for linguistic instruments are more numerous than dental, and far more complex. But you will more and more nearly approximate the ideal, will more and more nearly find that right expression has become second nature with you.

All this is conditioned upon labor faithful and steadfast. Without labor you will never be adept. At the outset of our study together we warned you that, though we should gather the material and point the way, you yourself must do the work. This book is not one to glance through. It is one to dwell with, to toil with. It exacts much of you-makes you, for each page you turn, pay with the sweat of your brain.

But, a.s.suming that you have done your part, what have you gained? Without answering this question at all fully, we may at this juncture engage in a brief retrospect.

First of all, you have rid yourself of the notion that words are dead things, unrealities worthy of no more than wooden and mechanical employment. As much as anything else in the world, words are alive and responsive, are fraught with unmeasured possibilities of good or ill.

You have taken due cognizance of the fact that words must be considered in the aggregate as well as individually, and have reckoned with the pitfalls and dangers as well as with the advantages of their use in combination.

But the basis of everything is a keener knowledge of words severally. You have therefore come to study words with the zest and insight you exhibit (or should exhibit) in studying men. Incidentally, you have acquired the habit of looking up dictionary definitions, not merely to satisfy a present need, but also to add permanently to your linguistic resources.

You have carried the study of individuals farther. You have come to know words inside and out. Such knowledge not only a.s.sists you in your dealings with your contemporaries; it illuminates for you great literature of the past that otherwise would remain obscure. How much keener, for example, is your understanding of Shakespeare's pa.s.sage on the Seven Ages of Man because of your thorough acquaintance with the single word _pantaloon_! How quickly does the awe for big words slip from you when you perceive that _precocious is_ in origin the equivalent of _half-baked!_ What intimacy of insight into words you feel when you find that a _companion is_ a _sharer of one's bread_! What a linking of language with life you discover when you learn the original signification of _presently_, of _idiot_, of _rival_, of _sandwich_, of _pocket handkerchief_! And what revelations as into a mystic fraternalism with words do you obtain when you confront such a phrase as "the bank _teller_" or "cut to the _quick"!

_Not only have words become more like living beings to you; you have learned to think of them in relations a.n.a.logous to the human. You can detect the blood kinship, for example, between _prescribe_ and _ma.n.u.script_, and know that the strain of _fact_ or fie or fy in a word is pretty sure to betoken making or doing. You know that there are elaborate intermarriages among words. You recognize _phonograph_, for example, as a married couple; you even have confidential word as to the dowry brought by each of the contracting parties to the new verbal household.

You have discovered, further, that the language actually swarms with "pairs"--words joined with each other not in blood or by marriage but through meaning. You have so familiarized yourself with hundreds of these pairs that to think of one word is to call the other to mind.

Finally, and in many respects most important of all, you have acquired a vast stock of synonyms. You have had it brought to your attention that the number of basic ideas in the world is surprisingly small; that for each of these ideas there is in our language one generic word; that most people use this one word constantly instead of seeking the subsidiary term that expresses a particular phase of the idea; and that you as a builder of your vocabulary must, while holding fast to the basic idea with one hand, reach out with the other for the fit, sure material of specific words. Nor have you rested in the mere perception of theory. You have had abundant practice, have yourself covered the ground foot by foot. You can therefore proceed with reasonable freedom from the commoner ideas of the human mind to that expression of definite aspects of them which is anything but common.

You have not, of course, achieved perfection. There still is much for you to do. There always will be. Nevertheless in the ways just reviewed, and in various other ways not mentioned in this chapter, you have made yourself verbally rich. You are one of the millionaires of language. When you speak, it is not with stammering incompetence, but with confident readiness. When you write, it is with energy and a.s.surance in the very flow of the ink. Where you had long been a slave, you have become a freeman and can look your fellows in the eye. You have the best badge of culture a human being can possess. You have power at your tongue's end.

You have the proud satisfaction of having wrought well, and the inspiration of knowing that whatever verbal need may arise, you are trained and equipped to grapple with it triumphantly.

APPENDICES

_Appendix I_

THE DRIFT OF OUR RURAL POPULATION CITYWARD (An editorial)

To an individual who from whatever motives of personal advantage or mere curiosity has made himself an observer of current tendencies, the drift of our rural population cityward gives food for serious reflection. This drift is one of the most p.r.o.nounced of the social and economic phenomena of the day. Its consequences upon the life, welfare, and future of the great nation to which we are proud to acknowledge our whole-hearted allegiance are matters of such paramount importance to all concerned that we should turn aside more often than we do from the distracting exactions of our ordinary activities to give them prolonged and earnest consideration.

A generation or so ago human beings were content to spend the full term of their earthly existence amid rural surroundings, or if in their declining days they longed for more of the comforts and a.s.sociations which are among the cravings of mortality, it was an easy proposition to move to the nearest village or, if they were too high and mighty for this simple measure to satisfy them, they could indulge in the more grandiose performance of residing in the county seat. But nowadays our people want more. Rich or poor, tall or dumpy, tottering grandmothers or babies in swaddling-clothes, they long for ampler pastures. Their brawny arms or h.o.a.ry heads must bedeck nothing less than the metropolis itself, and perchance put shoulders to the wheel in the incessant grind of the urban treadmill. Can you beat it? Unquestioned profit does not attend the migration. It stands to reason that some of the very advantages sought have been sacrificed on the altar of the drift cityward. Let us say you have your individual domicile or the cramped and sunless apartment you dub your habitation within corporate limits. Does that mean that the privileges of the city are at your disposal, so that you have merely to reach forth your hand and pluck them? Well, hardly! You certainly do not reside in the downtown section, or if you do, you wish to heaven you didn't. And you can reach this section only with delay and inconvenience, whether in the hours of business or in the subsequent period devoted to the glitter of nocturnal revelry and amus.e.m.e.nt.

But whatever the disadvantages of the city, the people who endure them are convinced that to go back to the vines and figtrees of their native heath would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. Why? Well, for one thing, there is no such thing as leisure in the areas that lie beyond those vast aggregations of humanity which const.i.tute our cities. Not only are there innumerable and seemingly interminable ch.o.r.es that must follow the regular occupations of the day, but a thousand emergencies due to chance, weather, or the natural cussedness of things must be disposed of as they arise, regardless of what plans the rustic swain cherishes for the use of his spare time. Urban laborers have contrived by one means or another to bring about a limitation of the number of hours per diem they are forced to toil. To the farmers such an alleviation of their hardships is not within the realm of practicability. They kick about it of course.

They say it's a blooming nuisance. But neither their heartburnings nor their struggles can efface it as a fact.

Again, the means of entertainment are more limited, and that by a big lot, with the farmer than with those who dwell in the cities. It is all very well to talk about the blessings of the rural telephone, rural free delivery, and the automobile. These things do make communication easier than it used to be, but after all they're only a drop in the bucket and do little to stop the drift cityward. We may remark just here that if you live a thousand miles from nowhere and are willing to drive your Tin Lizzie into town for "the advantages," you aren't likely to get much even along the line of the movies, and you'll get less still if what you're after is an A-1 school for your progeny.

Finally, the widespread impression that the farmer is a bloated and unscrupulous profiteer has done much to disgust him with his station and employment in life. We don't say he's the one and only when it comes to the virtues. Maybe he hasn't sprouted any wings yet. What if he hasn't?

The cities, with their brothels, their big business, and their munic.i.p.al governments--you wouldn't have the face to say that there's anything wrong with them, now would you? Oh, no! Of course not! The farmer pays high for his machinery and goes clear to the bottom of his pocketbook when he has to buy shoes or a sack of flour, but let him have a steer's hide or a wagon load of wheat to sell, and it's somebody else's ox that's gored.

Consumers pay big prices for farm products, goodness knows, but they don't pay them to the farmer. Not on your tintype. The middleman gets his, you needn't question that. We beg pardon a thousand times. We mean the middle_men_. There's no end to those human parasites.

And so farmer after farmer breaks up the old homestead and contributes his mite to the drift cityward. What will be the result that comes out of it all? The effect upon the farmer deserves an editorial all to itself. Here we must limit ourselves to the effects on the future of our beloved American nation. And even these we can now do no more than mention; we lack s.p.a.ce to elaborate them. One effect, if the tendency continues, will be such a reduction in home-produced foodstuffs that we shall have to import from other countries lying abroad a good portion of the means of our physical sustenance, and shall face such an increase in the cost of the same that thousands and thousands of our people will find it increasingly harder as the years pa.s.s by to maintain their relative economic position. Another effect will be that our civilization, which to this point has sprawled over broad acres, will become an urban civilization, penned in amid conditions, restraints, privations, and perhaps also opportunities unprecedented in our past history and unknown to the experience we have had hitherto. A final effect will be that our most conservative cla.s.s, the rural populace, will no longer present resistance that is formidable to the innovations which those who hold extreme views are forever exhorting us to embrace; and the result may well be that the disintegration of this staying and stabilizing element in our citizenship--one that r.e.t.a.r.ds and mollifies if it does not inhibit change--will produce consequences in its train which may be as dire as they are difficult to foretell.

_Appendix_ 2

CAUSES FOR THE AMERICAN SPIRIT OF LIBERTY (From the _Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies_) By EDMUND BURKE

In this character of the Americans, a love of freedom is the predominating feature which marks and distinguishes the whole; and as an ardent is always a jealous affection, your Colonies become suspicious, restive, and untractable whenever they see the least attempt to wrest from them by force, or shuffle from them by chicane, what they think the only advantage worth living for. This fierce spirit of liberty is stronger in the English Colonies probably than in any other people of the earth, and this from a great variety of powerful causes; which, to understand the true temper of their minds and the direction which this spirit takes, it will not be amiss to lay open somewhat more largely.

First, the people of the Colonies are descendants of Englishmen. England, Sir, is a nation which still, I hope, respects, and formerly adored, her freedom. The Colonists emigrated from you when this part of your character was most predominant; and they took this bias and direction the moment they parted from your hands. They are therefore not only devoted to liherty, but to liberty according to English ideas, and on English principles. Abstract liberty, like other mere abstractions, is not to be found. Liberty inheres in some sensible object; and every nation has formed to itself some favorite point, which by way of eminence becomes the criterion of their happiness. It happened, you know, Sir, that the great contests for freedom in this country were from the earliest times chiefly upon the question of taxing. Most of the contests in the ancient commonwealths turned primarily on the right of election of magistrates; or on the balance among the several orders of the state. The question of money was not with them so immediate. But in England it was otherwise. On this point of taxes the ablest pens, and most eloquent tongues, have been exercised; the greatest spirits have acted and suffered. In order to give the fullest satisfaction concerning the importance of this point, it was not only necessary for those who in argument defended the excellence of the English Const.i.tution to insist on this privilege of granting money as a dry point of fact, and to prove that the right had been acknowledged in ancient parchments and blind usages to reside in a certain body called a House of Commons. They went much farther; they attempted to prove, and they succeeded, that in theory it ought to be so, from the particular nature of a House of Commons as an immediate representative of the people, whether the old records had delivered this oracle or not. They took infinite pains to inculcate, as a fundamental principle, that in all monarchies the people must in effect themselves, mediately or immediately, possess the power of granting their own money, or no shadow of liberty can subsist. The Colonies draw from you, as with their life-blood, these ideas and principles. Their love of liberty, as with you, fixed and attached on this specific point of taxing. Liberty might be safe, or might be endangered, in twenty other particulars, without their being much pleased or alarmed. Here they felt its pulse; and as they found that beat, they thought themselves sick or sound. I do not say whether they were right or wrong in applying your general arguments to their own case. It is not easy, indeed, to make a monopoly of theorems and corollaries. The fact is, that they did thus apply those general arguments; and your mode of governing them, whether through lenity or indolence, through wisdom or mistake, confirmed them in the imagination that they, as well as you, had an interest in these common principles.

They were further confirmed in this pleasing error by the form of their provincial legislative a.s.semblies. Their governments are popular in an high degree; some are merely popular; in all, the popular representative is the most weighty; and this share of the people in their ordinary government never fails to inspire them with lofty sentiments, and with a strong aversion from whatever tends to deprive them of their chief importance.

If anything were wanting to this necessary operation of the form of government, religion would have given it a complete effect. Religion, always a principle of energy, in this new people is no way worn out or impaired; and their mode of professing it is also one main cause of this free spirit. The people are Protestants; and of that kind which is the most adverse to all implicit submission of mind and opinion. This is a persuasion not only favorable to liberty, but built upon it. I do not think, Sir, that the reason of this averseness in the dissenting churches from all that looks like absolute government is so much to be sought in their religious tenets, as in their history. Every one knows that the Roman Catholic religion is at least coeval with most of the governments where it prevails; that it has generally gone hand in hand with them, and received great favor and every kind of support from authority. The Church of England too was formed from her cradle under the nursing care of regular government. But the dissenting interests have sprung up in direct opposition to all the ordinary powers of the world, and could justify that opposition only on a strong claim to natural liberty. Their very existence depended on the powerful and unremitted a.s.sertion of that claim. All Protestantism, even the most cold and pa.s.sive, is a sort of dissent. But the religion most prevalent in our Northern Colonies is a refinement on the principle of resistance; it is the dissidence of dissent, and the protestantism of the Protestant religion. This religion, under a variety of denominations agreeing in nothing but in the communion of the spirit of liberty, is predominant in most of the Northern Provinces, where the Church of England, notwithstanding its legal rights, is in reality no more than a sort of private sect, not composing most probably the tenth of the people. The Colonists left England when this spirit was high, and in the emigrants was the highest of all; and even that stream of foreigners which has been constantly flowing into these Colonies has, for the greatest part, been composed of dissenters from the establishments of their several countries, who have brought with them a temper and character far from alien to that of the people with whom they mixed.

Sir, I can perceive by their manner that some gentlemen object to the lat.i.tude of this description, because in the Southern Colonies the Church of England forms a large body, and has a regular establishment. It is certainly true. There is, however, a circ.u.mstance attending these Colonies which, in my opinion, fully counterbalances this difference, and makes the spirit of liberty still more high and haughty than in those to the northward. It is that in Virginia and the Carolinas they have a vast mult.i.tude of slaves. Where this is the case in any part of the world, those who are free are by far the most proud and jealous of their freedom.

Freedom is to them not only an enjoyment, but a kind of rank and privilege. Not seeing there, that freedom, as in countries where it is a common blessing and as broad and general as the air, may be united with much abject toil, with great misery, with all the exterior of servitude; liberty looks, amongst them, like something that is more n.o.ble and liberal. I do not mean, Sir, to commend the superior morality of this sentiment, which has at least as much pride as virtue in it; but I cannot alter the nature of man. The fact is so; and these people of the Southern Colonies are much more strongly, and with an higher and more stubborn spirit, attached to liberty than those to the northward. Such were all the ancient commonwealths; such were our Gothic ancestors; such in our days were the Poles; and such will be all masters of slaves, who are not slaves themselves. In such a people the haughtiness of domination combines with the spirit of freedom, fortifies it, and renders it invincible.

Permit me, Sir, to add another circ.u.mstance in our Colonies which contributes no mean part towards the growth and effect of this untractable spirit. I mean their education. In no country perhaps in the world is the law so general a study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful; and in most provinces it takes the lead. The greater number of the deputies sent to the Congress were lawyers. But all who read, and most do read, endeavor to obtain some smattering in that science. I have been told by an eminent bookseller, that in no branch of his business, after tracts of popular devotion, were so many books as those on the law exported to the Plantations. The Colonists have now fallen into the way of printing them for their own use. I hear that they have sold nearly as many of Blackstone's Commentaries in America as in England. General Gage marks out this disposition very particularly in a letter on your table. He states that all the people in his government are lawyers, or smatterers in law; and that in Boston they have been enabled, by successful chicane, wholly to evade many parts of one of your capital penal const.i.tutions. The smartness of debate will say that this knowledge ought to teach them more clearly the rights of legislature, their obligations to obedience, and the penalties of rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my honorable and learned friend on the floor, who condescends to mark what I say for animadversion, will disdain that ground. He has heard, as well as I, that when great honors and great emoluments do not win over this knowledge to the service of the state, it is a formidable adversary to government. If the spirit be not tamed and broken by these happy methods, it is stubborn and litigious. _Abeunt studia in mores_. This study renders men acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in attack, ready in defence, full of resources. In other countries, the people, more simple, and of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill principle in government only by an actual grievance; here they antic.i.p.ate the evil, and judge of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the principle. They augur misgovernment at a distance, and snuff the approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze.

The last cause of this disobedient spirit in the Colonies is hardly less powerful than the rest, as it is not merely moral, but laid deep in the natural const.i.tution of things. Three thousand miles of ocean lie between you and them. No contrivance can prevent the effect of this distance in weakening government. Seas roll, and months pa.s.s, between the order and the execution; and the want of a speedy explanation of a single point is enough to defeat a whole system. You have, indeed, winged ministers of vengeance, who carry your bolts in their pounces to the remotest verge of the sea. But there a power steps in that limits the arrogance of raging pa.s.sions and furious elements, and says, _So far shalt thou go, and no farther_. Who are you, that you should fret and rage, and bite the chains of nature? Nothing worse happens to you than does to all nations who have extensive empire; and it happens in all the forms into which empire can be thrown. In large bodies the circulation of power must be less vigorous at the extremities. Nature has said it. The Turk cannot govern Egypt and Arabia and Kurdistan as he governs Thrace; nor has he the same dominion in Crimea and Algiers which he has at Brusa and Smyrna.

Despotism itself is obliged to truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such obedience as he can. He governs with a loose rein, that he may govern at all; and the whole of the force and vigor of his authority in his center is derived from a prudent relaxation in all his borders. Spain, in her provinces, is, perhaps, not so well obeyed as you are in yours. She complies, too; she submits; she watches times. This is the immutable condition, the eternal law of extensive and detached empire.

Then, Sir, from these six capital sources--of descent, of form of government, of religion in the Northern Provinces, of manners in the Southern, of education, of the remoteness of situation from the first mover of government-from all these causes a fierce spirit of liberty has grown up. It has grown with the growth of the people in your Colonies, and increased with the increase of their wealth; a spirit that unhappily meeting with an exercise of power in England which, however lawful, is noc reconcilable to any ideas of liberty, much less with theirs, has kindled this flame that is ready to consume us.

_Appendix 3_

PARABLE OF THE SOWER (Matthew 13:3,8 and 18-23)

And he spake many things unto them in parables, saying, Behold, a sower went forth to sow;

And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up:

Some fell upon stony places, where they bad not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth:

And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away.

And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them:

But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.

Hear ye therefore the parable of the sower.

When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, then cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart. This is he which received seed by the way side.

But be that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the word, and anon with joy receiveth it.

Yet he hath not root in himself, but dureth for a while: for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the word, by and by he is offended.

He also that received seed among the thorns is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becometh unfruitful.