DEGENERACY OF WORDS.
One point to be observed in the nature and history of words is
their tendency to contract in form and degenerate in meaning.
A word which, in the beginning of its career, has generally a
favourable, or at any rate a not disparaging, meaning, becomes,
as it grows older, weaker in effect and more contracted in form
and signification, and, in most cases, falls into an unfavourable
sense. It does not improve or extend, but contracts and
deteriorates in meaning. Archbishop Trench uses this fact as an
argument to prove the perversity and evil tendencies of mankind;
and it must be admitted to have considerable force. Take the two
verbs, to ‘resent’ and to ‘retaliate.’ The first of these means,
etymologically, ‘to feel back,’ or ‘feel in return.’ Of course, one
may feel kindly or unkindly, according to circumstances: but we
now never use this word in a favourable sense. We are never said
to ‘_resent_’ kindness or affection; but only injury, slander, ill
deeds, &c. Again, the derivation of ‘retaliate’ is from the Latin
‘re’ (back) and ‘talis’ (such); and it would naturally signify,
‘to give back such’ (as we have received). But we now retaliate
offences or indignities, and never favours or benefits. These words
were, however, once used in a much more extended sense. Dr. South,
a celebrated preacher of Charles II.’s time, in one of his sermons
has the expression, ‘resenting God’s favours,’ which, according to
the present restricted meaning of the word, would seem to a modern
reader positively blasphemous. But in the seventeenth century the
word ‘resent’ implied good as well as bad feeling; gratitude for
benefits received as well as anger for injury done.
This tendency to degenerate will appear, perhaps, more evidently if
we inquire into the original source of certain English words which
are now used as the strongest terms of reproach in the language.
Among these may be named, ‘_thief_,’ ‘_villain_,’ and ‘_vagabond_.’
The first is of Saxon origin. ‘_Theow_’ was a term originally
applied to one of the servile classes of the Anglo-Saxon
population, and in its first sense implied no reproach. But, as
people in this position had many temptations to fraud and deceit,
the word at length came to have its modern signification; i.e. it
degenerated into the present meaning of ‘thief.’
‘_Villanus_’ was, in Latin, first used in the sense of a
farm-servant; but as those in this capacity acquired a bad
reputation by their immorality and brutal violence, the whole class
was stigmatised; and thus the word ‘villain’ now conveys, as every
one knows, a very different sense from that of farm-servant.
There is no particular reproach conveyed in the etymology of
‘_vagabond_.’ It meant at first simply a wanderer. But as the
habits of a wanderer are likely to become unsteady, irregular,
and reckless, this term, in course of time, degenerated into its
present acceptation. It is now always associated with the ideas of
a loose morality and want of sobriety.
‘_Prejudice_’ is another of those words which have gradually got
rid of their favourable meaning, and are, in most cases, used in
a bad sense. It is true, we sometimes say ‘prejudiced _in favour_
of’ some person or thing; but, without this specification, there
is always a leaning towards the bad sense of the word. And yet the
derivation shows simply, ‘a _judgment_ formed _before_ sufficient
reflection,’ whether favourable or otherwise.
In the same class may be placed ‘_animosity_.’ In Latin,
‘animosus’ meant courageous, full of soul, vigour, and ardour.
Now, it is wholly confined to the sense of a violent feeling of
anger, hatred, and resentment. In fine, it has lost all its beauty.
There is no longer the least trace of anything noble in the word
‘animosity.’
The words ‘_simple_’ and ‘_simplicity_’ still retain something
of their original charm, but it is much to be feared that they
are more frequently used in a contemptuous sense. We speak of a
‘simple’ fellow, as of one who is easily cheated or duped; one
wanting in shrewdness; anything but ‘_knowing_;’ which, by the
way, is another term which has degenerated into an unfavourable
acceptation.
It may seem strange, but it is certainly true, that the word
‘_good_’ which is naturally associated with everything high, pure,
and noble, both in morals and intellect, has partaken of this
general tendency downwards, and is often used in the sense of
‘able to pay,’ or ‘having sufficient means to discharge’ debts.
This use of the word is found in the language as far back as
Shakspere’s time. In the ‘Merchant of Venice,’ Shylock says to
Bassanio:--‘Antonio is a _good_ man?’ and when Bassanio asks him
‘if he has heard any imputation to the contrary,’ he replies:--‘My
meaning in saying he is a _good_ man, is to have you understand me
that he is sufficient.’ This is still the common acceptation of
the word with city men; with them, a _good_ man is one who has a
large balance at his banker’s.
If we look into the original meaning of the word ‘_cunning_,’ we
shall find that it was not at first used in its present bad sense.
This is one of a numerous Saxon family, based upon the type ‘_kn_’
or ‘_cn_;’ as ‘ken,’ ‘know,’ ‘can,’ ‘king,’ ‘cunning,’ &c. We find
in Psalms cxxxvii. 5:--‘If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right
hand forget her “cunning,”’ where the word is used for skill or
art. This meaning is now seldom applied, while the word has kept
its sense of deceit or slyness.
The same may be said of ‘_craft_.’ It had at first a good as well
as a bad sense. It meant ability or dexterity, as well as fraud
or artifice. Now its bad meaning is in the ascendant. If the
favourable sense is sometimes intended, this is the exception, not
the rule.
Indeed, there are many English words which, though not taken in a
positively unfavourable sense, have yet a tendency that way--which
require qualifying, if we wish them to be understood favourably.
For instance, if we speak of any one’s ‘_curiosity_,’ meaning that
he has an inquiring spirit, it will be necessary to explain that
we mean a well-directed, and not a prying, impertinent curiosity;
for, without that explanation, it will be certainly understood in
the latter sense. In fine, when there are two meanings to a word, a
right and a wrong, the evil is sure to prevail.
The words ‘_critic_’ and ‘_criticise_’ are in precisely the same
condition. These words do not of necessity imply fault-finding.
A critic is simply a judge; he may have to praise as well as
to blame; but every one knows full well that to ‘criticise’ is
generally looked upon as synonymous with ‘to censure,’ and, unless
qualified, is sure to be understood in the latter sense.
In the very copious vocabulary of words which have ‘fallen from
their high estate,’ or undergone a pernicious transformation,
may be also ranged the word ‘_fellow_.’ In some cases it retains
a certain respectability, as when we speak of the ‘Fellow of a
college.’ Shakspere makes Hamlet say of Yorick, the jester:--‘He
was a “fellow” of infinite jest,’ where the sense is certainly
not intended to be disparaging. But now-a-days ‘fellow’ is, on
the whole, not looked upon very favourably. It is suggestive of
recklessness and disorderly conduct, and, unless qualified, is not
a very complimentary term.
As to the word ‘_knave_,’ it is irrecoverably lost. It is the
lowest and most degrading term we can apply as a reproach and an
insult; and yet it meant originally nothing more than ‘boy,’ as
‘Knabe’ does to this day in German. By what process the ‘boy’
became a ‘knave’ may be a speculation, but the word has obviously
lost its former good name.
This perversity of human nature in turning words into an opposite
and unfavourable meaning may also be seen in many familiar and
every-day forms of speech. It is not uncommon to hear an abandoned
fellow spoken of as a ‘precious’ scoundrel, or some absurdity
referred to as ‘blessed’ nonsense. This perversion is not confined
to English. The French often use the word ‘sacré’ in a sense
diametrically opposed, to ‘holy,’ a meaning which existed in Latin,
from which French is derived. Virgil’s ‘auri “_sacra_” fames’ is
properly translated ‘_accursed_ lust for gold.’ The Latin ‘altus’
also conveyed the distinct and opposite meanings of ‘high’ and
‘deep.’
Also the English word ‘silly’ has degenerated from ‘selig,’ which
in German preserves its meaning of ‘blessed;’ and ‘ninny’ took its
origin from the Spanish ‘niño,’ where it means simply ‘a child.’
Another example of a change for the worse may be seen in the word
‘prevent.’ The Church Service gives us this word in the literal
sense of ‘to go before, or guide:’ ‘_Prevent_ us, O Lord, in all
our doings,’ &c.; and in the Collect for the 17th Sunday after
Trinity:--‘We pray Thee that Thy grace may always “_prevent_”
and follow us.’ But this is not the present sense of the word;
it has now always the meaning of ‘to stop,’ rather than to guide
onwards--the very opposite of its former signification. This, like
other words, has degenerated.
_Contradictory Meanings._
Connected with this degeneracy of words is one very curious
phenomenon, viz. that in English we frequently meet with the same
word in two distinct meanings, directly opposed to each other. For
example, the verb ‘to let’ has generally the meaning of ‘to give
leave,’ or ‘allow.’ This is its ordinary acceptation, but in the
still common legal phrase, ‘without let or hindrance,’ it has the
very opposite meaning.[2] Again, Hamlet says:--‘I’ll make a ghost
of him that “lets” me,’ i.e. him that interferes with or hinders
me, where the sense is again the very reverse of the usual meaning.
The verb ‘to cleave’ is another case of this contradiction of
meaning. ‘To cleave’ may mean either ‘to adhere to closely’ or ‘to
cut asunder.’[3] When we say the tongue ‘_cleaves_’ to the roof of
the mouth, it is used in the first sense; but the directly opposite
meaning is implied when people talk of ‘_cleaving_’ wood, i.e.
cutting it into parts.
We may use the word ‘fast’ in two senses, opposed to each other. It
conveys the idea either of quiet rest or of rapid motion. ‘The door
was _fast_ locked,’ means that it was fixed and not to be moved;
whereas in the sentence, ‘He runs _fast_,’ it expresses quickness
of motion.
To this class also belongs ‘nervous,’ which means either
_possessing_, or _wanting_ nerve. When ladies are said to be
‘nervous,’ we understand that they are weak, timid, easily
frightened; in fine, wanting nerve. On the other hand, a ‘nervous’
style is one marked by vigour and energy. One use of the word
represents the absence, and the other the presence, of nerve.
When Shakspere makes Hamlet say, ‘Would I had met my _dearest_ foe
in heaven,’ he means, ‘my most hated foe.’ As extremes are said to
meet, so does this word express the extremes of love and hatred.
The adjective ‘fearful’ will also illustrate this principle. It
means either ‘affected by fear’ or ‘inspiring fear.’ The word
‘mortal’ is in the same condition. Its usual sense is ‘subject to
death,’ but it is also used subjectively, as ‘producing death.’
Hence the difference between a ‘mortal wound’ and a ‘mortal being.’
‘To look’ may be understood in two opposed senses. When we say, ‘a
man _looks_ well into his affairs,’ the word is used in its active
meaning; but if we should say, ‘he _looks_ well,’ it would mean
that he appears to others to be in good health.
The word ‘mistaken’ also is equivocal in meaning. ‘I am mistaken’
may mean ‘I make a mistake,’ or ‘Others mistake me.’ This
perversity appears in various forms. When we say that a tradesman
‘_sells_ his goods,’ the word ‘sells’ is employed in a subjective
sense; but we not unfrequently hear that his goods _sell_ well,
where the same term is used objectively. In these cases, the
active form is used in a passive sense, and not _vice versâ_. ‘A
_walking_-stick’ does not mean a stick that walks, but a stick to
be walked with. Nor is a ‘_drinking_ cup’ one that drinks, but one
to be drunk out of.
This difference of subjective and objective meaning may be
especially observed in that class of adjectives which ends in
‘able’ or ‘ible;’ such as, ‘port_able_,’ ‘pli_able_,’ ‘vis_ible_,’
‘leg_ible_,’ &c. Most of these words have a passive or objective
sense. ‘Portable’ means ‘that which _can be carried_;’ ‘visible,’
‘that which _can be seen_.’ But some of these convey an active or
subjective meaning. For example, ‘comfortable’ does not mean ‘_what
can be comforted_;’ but ‘_that which comforts_.’ A ‘comfortable’
house or room is one which comforts the inmates. ‘Terrible,’ again,
does not mean ‘capable of receiving terror;’ but able to produce
that feeling in others. A ‘terrible’ accident is one which inspires
terror in the beholders. This active or subjective meaning is,
however, the exception. Most of this class of words are used in a
passive or recipient sense.
Another case in which this contrariety of meaning may be
observed is in the use of the prefix ‘_in_.’ This prefix has, in
general, the force of a negative; as may be seen in the words
‘_in_complete,’ ‘_in_capable,’ ‘_in_delible,’ &c. But there are
certain adjectives in which it conveys a positive or intensive
meaning, i.e. the very opposite to the negative. When we say that
some one’s health was ‘_invigorated_,’ we do not mean that it was
weakened; but, on the contrary, that it was very much strengthened.
Instead of depriving the word of any of its meaning, the ‘_in_’
here adds force to its positive signification. Some of this class
are, ‘_in_tense,’ ‘_in_fatuated,’ ‘_in_veterate,’ ‘_in_valuable;’
but most of them are used in a negative sense.
We occasionally meet with much confusion of sense in the
application of some English words. We commonly say that a man
_marries_ a woman, and also that a woman _marries_ a man; in
addition to which, the clergyman _marries_ them both. Perhaps, as
the word ‘marry’ is derived from the French ‘mari,’ and the Latin
‘maritus,’ a husband--which is from ‘mas, maris,’ a male, and marks
a difference of sex--it would be better to say, a man ‘marries’ a
woman, and a woman ‘is married to’ a man; and the priest joins them
in marriage. The use of the good old Saxon word ‘wed’ would obviate
all these difficulties; but, unfortunately, it is now much out of
fashion, and indeed rapidly disappearing from the language, though
the noun ‘wedding’ still holds its place.
There is a tendency to contract or restrict in meaning certain
words of our language whose etymology would allow of their being
used much more extensively. This, in many instances, seems to be
caused by that deteriorating principle before mentioned; for, in
all these cases, the favourable meaning is ignored, and the bad one
retained. The word ‘condign’ is never used but with ‘punishment,’
though its meaning might be reasonably applied to honours,
merits, or rewards. ‘Condign’ rewards would be rewards worthy
of the receiver’s actions. ‘Condign’ honours would mean honours
appropriate to certain merits, &c.
The adjective ‘inveterate’ is in precisely the same predicament.
It is never applied to a good feeling, but always to some bad
passion. We commonly hear of inveterate resentment, malice, hatred,
animosity, &c.; but we never meet with inveterate love, kindness,
affection, or attachment. And yet why not? The true meaning of
‘inveterate’ is _what has gained strength by age_; and it is clear
that this quality would apply reasonably enough to such feelings as
love, kindness, or affection. An anecdote is told of Lord Byron,
that in a letter to one of his friends, he subscribed himself,
‘Yours inveterately, BYRON.’ This was, of course, done in a playful
spirit; but the word was perfectly well applied; and it is a pity
that this example had not been generally followed.
In this class we may place the words ‘animadvert’ and ‘insinuate.’
The first of these signifies literally to notice or observe (animum
vertere ad), to turn the mind to; but there is always coupled with
it the idea of censure or punishment. But surely we may observe in
order to praise as well as to blame!
Again, ‘to insinuate’ is generally connected with a crooked
procedure of the mind. When people ‘insinuate,’ the result looked
for is rather evil than good. It is opposed to a straightforward
mode of action.
On the other hand, certain French words have been admitted into
English in one sense, which many writers show a disposition to
extend. But this should be checked, and these words should be
confined to their legitimate meaning. For example: the French verb
‘demander’ is properly translated into English by ‘to ask.’ In
English, ‘_to demand_’ should be only used in the sense of to ask
as a right, in a case where justice must be satisfied, and should
not be applied to general cases. The French say, ‘demander pardon,’
but we English ‘beg’--we do not ‘demand’--pardon.
‘To _assist_,’ meaning to do a service, is good English; but in the
sense of ‘to be present,’ it is French, and not English. We may
‘assist’ a man in his work, or by giving him advice, &c., but we
cannot properly write that some one ‘assisted’ at a supper, if we
mean that he was one of the guests.
To ‘_arrive_’ is another of the French words adopted in English
whose sense must not be stretched beyond its legitimate bounds.
When it signifies ‘to come to,’ it is properly applied; but in the
sense of ‘to happen,’ it is not English. We may say, ‘Our friends
are arrived;’ but we must not ask, ‘What has arrived?’ if we mean
‘What has happened?’
The verb ‘to _accord_’ is constantly used for ‘to give,’ or ‘to
grant,’ probably because it has two syllables instead of one. ‘To
accord with’ is properly used in the sense of ‘to agree,’ or ‘to
suit,’ as:--‘This arrangement “accords” with my views;’ but to say
that ‘he “accorded” his friends the use of his library,’ would be a
wrong application of the word. In the phrase, ‘according with,’ the
word is a participle; in ‘according to,’ it is a preposition.
The mistake made in the word ‘_allude_’ is in using it for ‘to
mention’ or ‘to state.’ ‘To allude’ properly means merely to hint
at, or suggest; and it should never be used in the other sense.
This, again, seems to arise from the idea that it is not so common
a word as the others, and it is therefore adopted--as if the object
of writing should be to confuse and puzzle the reader!
Now and then, however, we meet with words which retain their first
favourable acceptation, and have not been degraded to a lower
sense. Some few, indeed, have been ennobled, i.e. raised from a
comparatively humble meaning to a higher dignity. In the first
of these classes we may place the verb ‘_to reward_;’ and we are
labouring under a certain difficulty in consequence of its being
confined to the one meaning. We very much want a word which would
signify a just return for ill deeds; for, though we use the noun
‘retribution’ for this purpose, the verb ‘to retribute’ is not in
common use. The verb ‘to reward’ is always used in a favourable
sense. We can hardly say that ‘a felon was _rewarded_ for his
crimes.’ We speak of the ‘rewards’ of goodness or virtue, but not
of the ‘rewards’ of wickedness or immorality.
Of those words which have been elevated in meaning, we may mention
‘angel,’ ‘martyr,’ and ‘Paradise;’ all three referring to religious
matters. These are all of Greek origin. ‘Angel,’ from ἄγγελος,
was at first merely ‘a messenger;’ but it is now used only in a
higher sense--‘a messenger of God.’ We certainly should not think
of calling an errand-boy ‘an angel.’ ‘Martyr,’ from μάρτυρος, a
witness, is now applied only to one who by his death bore witness
to the truth of Christianity. A witness who gives evidence in
a trial cannot now be called a martyr. Again, ‘Paradise,’ from
παράδεισος, has been raised from the ordinary sense of ‘garden’ to
that of Garden of Eden, or place of bliss. Cases of this sort are,
however, comparatively rare.