CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT WORDS.
In the order of nature, names would be first given to concrete
objects and their qualities, and to visible acts, i.e. to those
things and acts which are made known to us through the senses. But
whatever may have been the principle which determined the original
form of these words, it is well known that, in all languages,
the same vocabulary was afterwards used in a mental or secondary
sense. No new words were invented for the expression of thought or
feeling, but all the acts of the mind and soul were represented
by terms originally applied in a concrete sense. In a word, the
abstract was derived from the concrete. The original concrete
sense of the verb ‘to see’ was, to take in knowledge through the
eye, but the same word was afterwards used abstractly. ‘I see’ may
signify ‘I have the proper use of my eyes;’ and may also mean, ‘I
understand or perceive with my mind.’ A blind man cannot see in
the first of these senses, though he may in the second. To hear, to
taste, to touch, &c., have all these double meanings. There may be
some words not found in a secondary sense; but, on the other hand,
a very large number have lost their original physical signification.
In English, most of the words which express operations of the mind
are drawn from a Latin, French, or Greek source. These were all
originally used in a concrete sense, which in English is now lost.
Horace, in his well-known ninth Satire, has:--
_Occurrit_ quidam notus mihi nomine tantum.
‘Occurrit’ cannot be here translated by ‘occurred.’ The word, in
English, has lost its concrete, and retains only its abstract,
meaning. With us, ideas or thoughts may ‘occur’ to the mind, but we
cannot properly speak of a friend ‘occurring’ (i.e. meeting) us in
the street.
One essential difference between ancient and modern languages
consists in the relation between abstract, or mental, and concrete
expression. The languages of antiquity possessed a much nearer
relation to the original, primary sense of words. In them, all the
abstract had a much closer affinity with the concrete terms from
which they were derived. The Latin word ‘spiritus’ had not only
its abstract meaning of ‘cheerfulness,’ or ‘courage,’ but also its
concrete sense of ‘breath;’ whereas, in modern languages the word
has only an abstract sense, and it is only by a knowledge of its
etymology that we can get at its material origin. The result of
this loss is most complete when a modern, formed upon an ancient
language, is no longer in direct communication with the roots of
the words used. In this respect ancient languages possessed a charm
for which nothing can compensate, and, when in the hands of a great
poet, they produced most wonderful effects. But the condition of
modern languages is, in this respect, very different. Here, most
of the abstract words, being deprived of their original concrete
meaning, are, to the general reader, mere conventional signs,
wholly unable to produce that vividly picturesque effect found
in the ancient tongues. And herein chiefly lies the value of a
knowledge of derivation. For, although a word may now have lost its
original meaning, it is of the greatest importance that its primary
signification should be known, in order to arrive at a clear
knowledge of its exact and accurate modern application. We commonly
speak of a man ‘_applying_’ himself to his work. To the general
reader this conveys the idea of giving his mind or attention to
what he is about; but to those who are ignorant of the etymology
of the word ‘applying,’ the picture of the man _bending_ his body
to his task is wholly lost. And not only as regards the true
meaning of the single word, but as concerns the difference in
signification between terms apparently synonymous, this knowledge
will be of the greatest importance. The difference in meaning
between ‘to instil’ and ‘to inculcate’ is to be understood only
by a knowledge of their etymology. To the ordinary reader both
these words have the general meaning of ‘to teach,’ or instruct;
but it is only he who knows the meaning of their roots who will
understand that nice difference in the mode of teaching which they
respectively describe. The process of ‘dropping in’ knowledge by
degrees, conveyed by the former word, paints a very different
picture from the ‘stamping in’ of the latter.
Some of our poets occasionally use abstract, especially Latin
words, in a primary meaning, which they, properly, no longer
possess. We may look upon this practice as a licence which may
be conceded to poets; but we should never adopt it in common
conversation, or in ordinary writing. Milton is especially addicted
to this practice. When he speaks of ‘Heaven’s _afflicting_
thunder,’ he uses the word ‘afflicting’ in its original primary
sense of striking down bodily. The reprobate angels are thus
represented as being hurled down from heaven. But this is not
the present use of the verb ‘to afflict.’ It means to prostrate
as to mind or feeling, and is never used in a concrete sense. If
one man should meet another in anger and _knock_ him _down_, we
should not call that _afflicting_ him; and yet this is the sense
in which the word is employed in the passage referred to. In the
same poet we meet with ‘horrent’ (for bristling) arms; ‘savage’
(for woody) hill; and ‘amiable’ (for lovely) fruit, &c. Thomson,
in his poem of ‘Winter,’ has, in like manner, ‘With dangling ice
all _horrid_’--the last word, in the sense of rough or bristling.
Modern usage does not sanction this application of such words in
ordinary discourse or writing.