THE MASTERY OF A WRITING VOCABULARY
=Ideas without Words.=—It is possible to have ideas without having words
in which to express them. Miss Helen Keller[35] had plenty of ideas
before any one taught her the words for them. The painter trains himself
to express ideas in paint; the sculptor, in stone. The inventor expresses
ideas in machinery. Because words however are the commonest means of
expression, it is desirable that one should know as many as possible.
A person who has ideas will indeed be able to communicate them in some
rough-and-ready form of speech; will use a poor word, if he cannot think
of a good one, and by hook or crook will manage to be understood. But an
unread, untrained man trying to communicate some fine shade of thought is
commonly a sorry sight, no matter how bright his mind may be.
=Words without Ideas.=—On the other hand, it is possible to know words
without knowing what they stand for. Some persons of quick verbal memory
pick up phrases readily, and utter them glibly, with little sense of
their meaning. Gratiano, of Shakespeare’s drama, “spoke an infinite deal
of nothing, more than any man in Venice.” Such persons as he have given
ground for the sarcastic remark that language is the art of concealing
thought. The use of meaningless phrases, and the use of words without
a care to their exact meaning, is one danger that besets the student
of composition. The boy who fluently remarks that he recently lost
his little _saturnine_ (meaning _canine_, i.e. _dog_); the lady, Mrs.
Malaprop, who walks through Sheridan’s play, saying, “You go first,
and we’ll _precede_ you”; the man, Launcelot Gobbo, who enlivens _The
Merchant of Venice_ with such remarks as that “his suit is _impertinent_
to himself,”—these people need a book of synonyms. Unless a writer is
sure that he knows definitely the meaning of the word that his pen is
about to trace, he would much better stay his hand.
=Ideas and Words.=—Though one mind may have ideas but lack their names,
and though another may have the names but lack the notions for which
they stand, yet both ideas and words are indispensable to the writer. A
general recipe for getting ideas is hardly easier to give than a recipe
for being great, or for having blue eyes, or for being liked by every
one. Ideas are had through new experiences, new acquaintanceships, new
sights; through hard thinking, through hard reading,—in short, through
living. Mr. Henry James, the eminent novelist, gives a direction for
being a good novelist: _Try to be one of those people on whom nothing is
lost._ The student who is eager to know as much as possible of what is
worth knowing in life, and is devoured with curiosity to learn the name
of everything, is sure to acquire both new ideas and new words.[36]
It is nevertheless not to be denied that to some extent ideas can be
bred by the study of the mere words. How true this is appears when it is
remembered that words are the embalmed ideas of men. A study of such a
list as the Curious Words given in the preceding chapter cannot but add
to the student’s mental stores. Thackeray, it is said, used to read the
dictionary before he composed. It may be presumed that the habit used
not merely to acquaint him with new words, but to arouse his mind and
set it to fashioning new thoughts. The attempt to discriminate between
words that mean nearly, not quite, the same thing, results in a distinct
gain in thought, and in power of thought. It is probable that no two
words have exactly the same sense; to discover the difference enriches
the discoverer’s store of knowledge, and develops one of the highest
mental powers. A command of words not merely affords relief from the pain
of dumbness, not merely loosens the tongue; it aids reasoning. Thinking
proceeds more securely the moment a hazy notion is given definite shape
in the right word. Indeed, the mere search for the right word is always a
means of clearing up the thought. To be tortured in mind by inability to
find the unique phrase, sometimes means a mere fault in verbal memory; as
often, or oftener, it is due to a vagueness of thinking.
By way of summary, then, acquisition of ideas furthers acquisition
of words, and _vice versâ_. To be poor in ideas, or to be poor in
language,—either means failure for a writer.
=The Two Vocabularies.=—Of all the 200,000 words in our language,
probably no one man would understand one-half if he saw them, undefined,
in a dictionary. Just how large a man’s reading vocabulary can be is not
known. Professor Holden, the astronomer, found that his own was about
33,000 words. It is therefore likely that 25,000 is not an unusual number
for an educated person to understand. But the _reading_ or _passive_
vocabulary is very different in size from the _writing_ or _active_
vocabulary. To remember the sense of a word when it is seen is far less
difficult than to recall the word whenever its meaning rises dimly in
the mind. A little child has but one set of words—an active vocabulary;
it makes oral use of all the expressions it knows. But the older person
reads so much that he comes to recognize myriads of words that rarely
rise to his lips or find their way to his pen. There is inevitably
therefore a widening gap between the expressions he can recognize and
those he can employ. That this should be so is in part desirable. A
person of fourteen or sixteen or eighteen must, if he reads carefully,
learn to understand many expressions that are too bookish for his own
uses. The word _temerarious_, for instance, is needed once where its
unpretentious cousin, _rash_, is needed a score of times. With some words
the young writer needs only a speaking acquaintance; others are good
friends that, in Hamlet’s phrase, he should buckle to his soul with hoops
of steel. But it is safe to say that if a person can transfer some part
of his reading vocabulary into his writing vocabulary, he will be much
benefited by so doing. There is probably no reason why a freshman should
not enter college master of a writing vocabulary of 5000 words, and a
reading vocabulary of 15,000. Shakespeare’s works contain about 15,000
different words, the King James version of the Bible fewer than 6000.
Again, each person uses the same words with many different meanings.
Every great writer employs the same words in many figurative senses;
the fact is perhaps the most striking proof of his literary power. If
Shakespeare’s vocabulary were reckoned as including these figurative
meanings, it would shoot up to a wonderful figure.
“It would be absurd,” says Professor A. S. Hill, with characteristic good
sense, “for a boy to have the desirableness of enlarging his vocabulary
constantly on his mind; but if he avails himself of his opportunities, in
the school-room or out of it, he will be surprised to find how rapidly
his vocabulary grows.” Doubtless however the matter must receive some
definite attention, if the best results are to be secured. In the rest
of this chapter particular methods of acquiring new words and senses of
words will be considered.
=A Vocabulary Book.=—It will be found helpful to buy a strong blank-book
of convenient size, and to copy into this every new word that seems to
the student available for his writing; not every new word he meets, for
some will impress him as too bookish or pedantic, but those which appear
to express happily some idea that has lain unnamed in his mind.
=Figurative Uses of Common Words.=—A writer owes it to himself and to
the reader to get all the service he legitimately can out of common
words, because in the end so doing spares both persons a vast deal of
unnecessary labor. Examine a handful of the well-worn counters of
speech,—such words as _poor_, _heavy_, _thin_, _best_, _full_, _manner_,
_sense_, _deep_, _sweet_. They are like dull pebbles brought home from
the beach. But dip them back into the brine of a good book, and they
become gems. The words specified above appear in a paragraph of Mr. W. D.
Howells: “I followed Irving, too, in my later reading, but at haphazard,
and with other authors at the same time. I did my poor best to be amused
by his _Knickerbocker History of New York_, because my father liked it
so much, but secretly I found it heavy; and a few years ago when I went
carefully through it again, I could not laugh. Even as a boy I found some
other things of his up-hill work. There was the beautiful manner, but
the thought seemed thin; and I do not remember having been much amused
by _Bracebridge Hall_, though I read it devoutly, and with a full sense
that it would be very _comme il faut_ to like it. But I did like the life
of Goldsmith; I liked it a great deal better than the more authoritative
life by Forster, and I think there is a deeper and sweeter sense of
Goldsmith in it.”[37]
Observe the various duties that the plainest words were persuaded
into doing for Shakespeare. With him the word _old_ applies to widely
different things: _Old arms_, _old beard_, _old limbs_, _old eyes_, _old
bones_, _old feet_, _old heart_, _old wrinkles_, _old wit_, _old care_,
_old woe_, _old hate_, _old custom_, _old days_. What does each of these
phrases mean? He is fond of contrasting simple words; thus, “He’ll take
his _old_ course in a country _new_.”
Note how many abstract ideas in Shakespeare are contented with the word
_heavy_, which ordinary people apply merely to coal, lead, and such
uninspiring commodities. _Heavy accent_, _heavy news_, _heavy sin_,
_heavy act_, _heavy task_, _heavy day_, _heavy hour_, _heavy gait_,
_heavy leave_, _heavy message_, _heavy summons_. Explain what each
means.[38]
Similarly there are _light gifts_, _light behavior_, _light heart_,
_light loss_, _light of foot_, _light wings_, _light foam_. Another
drudge of a word, _thick_, learns new and pleasanter tasks of the
great poet. _Thick sight_, _thick perils_, _thick in their thoughts_,
_thick sighs_, _thick slumber_. Explain each of these phrases. Opposed
to _thick_ is _thin_: _thin air_, _thin drink_, _thin and slender
pittance_. These are the things that Shakespeare calls _high_: _high
deeds_, _high descent_, _high desert_, _high designs_, _high disgrace_,
_high exploits_, _high feats_, _high good trim_, _high heaven_, _high
hope_, _high perfection_, _high resolve_, _high reward_. One more word,
_golden_. Lesser poets would apply it to physical objects. Shakespeare,
too, speaks of the sun “Kissing with golden face the meadows green,”
and of “This majestical roof fretted with golden fire.” But elsewhere
he manages to apply the adjective to things that cannot so directly be
called golden. Thus: “A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.”
“... wear a golden sorrow.” “Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney
sweepers, come to dust.” “Nestor’s golden words.” Explain each of these
uses.
Of course many of these figurative expressions are too poetical by far
for the prose of high school students. Nevertheless, many others would
be appropriate in the manuscript of any person,—for instance, _high
designs_, _high deeds_, _high exploits_, _high resolve_. Such uses as
these can be cultivated to the enrichment of the vocabulary.
=Written Exercise.=[39]—Each of the following adjectives applies
primarily to physical objects, that can be seen, or heard, or touched, or
tasted. But each is often raised to a higher use, being made to name some
quality of character, or some other abstract idea. Take the adjectives
one by one, and under each write in class as many abstract words as you
think can properly be modified by the given adjective. Thus the adjective
_fine_, which is used of such physical objects as _sand_, _cloth_,
_particles_, may also apply to _courage_, _sense of honor_, _presence_,
_phrases_, _words_, _deeds_.
1. Sweet. 2. Sour. 3. Bitter. 4. Soft. 5. Hard. 6. Smooth. 7. Rough. 8.
Delicious. 9. Insipid. 10. Cold. 11. Freezing. 12. Icy. 13. Burning. 14.
Chilly. 15. Blue. 16. White. 17. Black. 18. Gray. 19. Brown. 20. Green.
21. Dark. 22. Shadowy. 23. Misty. 24. Cloudy. 25. Windy. 26. Stormy. 27.
Transparent. 28. Blunt. 29. Sharp. 30. Keen. 31. Dull. 32. Fragrant. 33.
Malodorous. 34. Shining. 35. Beaming. 36. Glowing. 37. Glittering. 38.
Blazing. 39. Hazy. 40. Brilliant. 41. Muddy. 42. Rippling.
=The Value of Careful Reading.=—A writer must perhaps be as dependent on
books for his vocabulary as on any other one source. Yet it is possible
to read a great deal without absorbing many new expressions. To gain new
words and new ideas, the student must compel himself to read slowly.
Impatient to hurry on and learn how the tale or poem ends, many a youth
is accustomed to read so rapidly as to miss the best part of what the
author is trying to say. Thoughts cannot be read so rapidly as words.
To get at the thoughts and really to retain the valuable expressions,
the student must scrutinize and ponder as he reads. Each word must be
thoroughly understood; its exact value in the given sentence must be
grasped. It will not do to draft off a long list of new expressions
into the note-book, and then investigate the meaning of each after the
connection in which each was used has been forgotten. Usually the best
way is to look up the meaning when the word is come upon. This is always
the best way when a passage is being read with a view to increasing
one’s vocabulary. When a tale or poem or essay is being read for its
general theme, or for its literary construction, it is often desirable to
underline each new word, leaving the meaning to be investigated a little
later. In finding the value of the word in its sentence, the student is
often little aided by the dictionary. Imagination and reasoning must
sometimes be called into play before the definition can be made to apply.
The dictionary—particularly the abridged dictionary—is not a magic book,
ready to explain every delicate shading that a great author gives a word
in a particular connection.
In reading silently it is due the author to read with as much expression
as if one were pronouncing the words aloud. One should mentally give
every word and phrase its proper accent, should feel the value of every
punctuation mark. The force of such a passage as the following, from
Carlyle, will be lost unless the reader puts the emphasis in exactly the
right places.
Manhood begins when we have in any way made truce with
Necessity; begins, at all events, when we have surrendered to
Necessity, as the most part only do; but begins joyfully and
hopefully only when we have reconciled ourselves to Necessity;
and thus, in reality, triumphed over it, and felt that in
Necessity we are free.
Literature is full of words descriptive of things that all have seen or
heard. We render a service to the memory if in reading we linger long
enough to call up the colors, shapes, motions, sounds, that are suggested
by the text. Some persons recall sights more easily than sounds, some
recall sounds more easily than sights; some can remember motions more
easily than either colors, shapes, or sounds. It is therefore good
training for the word-memory if we endeavor to recall all kinds of sense
impressions. Read the following passage slowly, imagining the sights,
motions, and sensations of touch, that are suggested.
A long way down that limpid water, chill and bright as
an iceberg, went my little self that day on man’s choice
errand—destruction. All the young fish seemed to know that I
was one who had taken out God’s certificate, and meant to have
the value of it; every one of them was aware that we desolate
more than replenish the earth. For a cow might come and look
into the water, and put her yellow lips down; a kingfisher,
like a blue arrow, might shoot through the dark alleys over
the channel, or sit on a dipping withy-bough with his beak
sunk into his breast-feathers; even an otter might float down
stream, likening himself to a log of wood, with his flat head
flush with the water-top, and his oily eyes peering quietly;
and yet no panic would seize other life, as it does when a
sample of man comes.—R. D. BLACKMORE, _Lorna Doone_.
Imagine as vividly as possible each sound and other physical sensation
suggested by the following selection, from the book just quoted:—
The volumes of the mist came rolling at me (like great logs of
wood, pillowed out with sleepiness), and between them there was
nothing more than waiting for the next one. Then everything
went out of sight, and glad was I of the stone behind me, and
view of mine own shoes. Then a distant noise went by me, as of
many horses galloping, and in my fright I set my gun and said,
“God send something to shoot at.” Yet nothing came, and my gun
fell back, without my will to lower it.
But presently, while I was thinking “What a fool I am!” arose
as if from below my feet, so that the great stone trembled,
that long lamenting, lonesome sound, as of an evil spirit not
knowing what to do with it. For the moment I stood like a root,
without either hand or foot to help me, and the hair of my head
began to crawl, lifting my hat, as a snail lifts his house, and
my heart like a shuttle went to and fro. But finding no harm
to come of it, neither visible form approaching, I wiped my
forehead and hoped for the best, and resolved to run every step
of the way till I drew our own latch behind me.
Yet here again I was disappointed, for no sooner was I come
to the cross-ways by the black pool in the hole, but I heard
through the patter of my own feet a rough low sound very close
in the fog, as of a hobbled sheep a-coughing. I listened, and
feared, and yet listened again, though I wanted not to hear
it. For being in haste of the homeward road, and all my heart
having heels to it, loath I was to stop in the dusk for the
sake of an aged wether. Yet partly my love of all animals, and
partly my fear of the farmer’s disgrace, compelled me to go
to the succor, and the noise was coming nearer. A dry, short,
wheezing sound it was, barred with coughs and want of breath;
but thus I made the meaning of it:—
What do you see mentally, when you read the following?
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head.
The value of minute and thoughtful reading has been set forth by John
Ruskin, in his _Sesame and Lilies_, a book well worth reading, if one is
willing to take in good part the earnest, somewhat dogmatic tone which
Ruskin so often uses. The oft-quoted passage in which he illustrates his
idea of how a poem should be read, is given below. The student who every
day reads a few pages as conscientiously as Ruskin would have him, will
find his command of words rapidly increasing, and his power of thought
increasing likewise.
And now, merely for example’s sake, I will, with your
permission, read a few lines of a true book with you carefully,
and see what will come out of them. I will take a book
perfectly known to you all. No English words are more familiar
to us, yet few perhaps have been read with less sincerity. I
will take these few following lines of _Lycidas_:—
“Last came, and last did go,
The pilot of the Galilean lake.
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain):
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:
‘How well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Enow of such as for their bellies’ sake
Creep and intrude and climb into the fold!
Of other care they little reckoning make
Than how to scramble at the shearers’ feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest;
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else, the least
That to the faithful herdsman’s art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw.
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread,
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said.’”
Let us think over this passage, and examine its words.
First, is it not singular to find Milton assigning to St.
Peter, not only his full episcopal function, but the very types
of it which Protestants usually refuse most passionately? His
“mitred” locks! Milton was no Bishop-lover; how comes St. Peter
to be “mitred”? “Two massy keys he bore.” Is this, then, the
power of the keys claimed by the bishops of Rome, and is it
acknowledged here by Milton only in a poetical license, for
the sake of its picturesqueness, that he may get the gleam of
the golden keys to help his effect? Do not think it. Great men
do not play stage tricks with doctrines of life and death:
only little men do that. Milton means what he says; and means
it with his might too—is going to put the whole strength of
his spirit presently into the saying of it. For though not a
lover of false bishops, he _was_ a lover of true ones; and the
Lake-pilot is here, in his thoughts, the type and head of true
episcopal power. For Milton reads that text, “I will give unto
thee the keys of the kingdom of Heaven” quite honestly. Puritan
though he be, he would not blot it out of the book because
there have been bad bishops; nay, in order to understand him,
we must understand that verse first; it will not do to eye it
askance, or whisper it under our breath, as if it were a weapon
of an adverse sect. It is a solemn, universal assertion, deeply
to be kept in mind by all sects. But perhaps we shall be better
able to reason on it if we go on a little farther, and come
back to it. For clearly, this marked insistence on the power
of the true episcopate is to make us feel more weightily what
is to be charged against the false claimants of episcopate; or
generally, against false claimants of power and rank in the
body of the clergy; they who, “for their bellies’ sake, creep,
and intrude, and climb into the fold.”
Do not think Milton uses those three words to fill up his
verse, as a loose writer would. He needs all the three;
specially those three, and no more than those—“creep,” and
“intrude,” and “climb”; no other words would or could serve
the turn, and no more could be added. For they exhaustively
comprehend the three classes, correspondent to the three
characters, of men who dishonestly seek ecclesiastical power.
First, those who “creep” into the fold, who do not care for
office, nor name, but for secret influence, and do all things
occultly and cunningly, consenting to any servility of office
or conduct, so only that they may intimately discern, and
unawares direct, the minds of men. Then those who “intrude”
(thrust, that is) themselves into the fold, who by natural
insolence of heart and stout eloquence of tongue and fearlessly
perseverant self-assertion obtain hearing and authority with
the common crowd. Lastly, those who “climb,” who, by labor
and learning both stout and sound, but selfishly exerted in
the cause of their own ambition, gain high dignities and
authorities, and become “lords over the heritage,” though not
“ensamples to the flock.”
Now go on:—
“Of other care they little reckoning make
Than how to scramble at the shearers’ feast.
_Blind mouths_—”
I pause again, for this is a strange expression,—a broken
metaphor, one might think, careless and unscholarly.
Not so; its very audacity and pithiness are intended to
make us look close at the phrase and remember it. Those two
monosyllables express the precisely accurate contraries of
right character, in the two great offices of the Church—those
of bishop and pastor.
A Bishop means a person who sees.
A Pastor means one who feeds.
The most unbishoply character a man can have is therefore to be
Blind.
The most unpastoral is, instead of feeding, to want to be
fed,—to be a Mouth.
Take the two reverses together, and you have “blind mouths.”
We may advisably follow out this idea a little. Nearly all the
evils in the Church have arisen from bishops desiring _power_
more than _light_. They want authority, not outlook. Whereas
their real office is not to rule; though it may be vigorously
to exhort and rebuke; it is the king’s office to rule; the
bishop’s office is to _oversee_ the flock; to number it, sheep
by sheep; to be ready always to give full account of it. Now
it is clear he cannot give account of the souls, if he has
not so much as numbered the bodies of his flock. The first
thing, therefore, that a bishop has to do is at least to put
himself in a position in which, at any moment, he can obtain
the history from childhood of every living soul in his diocese,
and of its present state. Down in that back street, Bill, and
Nancy, knocking each other’s teeth out!—Does the bishop know
all about it? Has he his eye upon them? Has he _had_ his eye
upon them? Can he circumstantially explain to us how Bill got
into the habit of beating Nancy about the head? If he cannot,
he is no bishop, though he had a mitre as high as Salisbury
steeple. He is no bishop,—he has sought to be at the helm
instead of the masthead; he has no sight of things. “Nay,”
you say, “it is not his duty to look after Bill in the back
street.” What! the fat sheep that have full fleeces,—you think
it is only those he should look after, while (go back to your
Milton) “the hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, besides
what the grim wolf, with privy paw” (bishops knowing nothing
about it) “daily devours apace, and nothing said”?
“But that’s not our idea of a bishop.” Perhaps not; but it
was St. Paul’s, and it was Milton’s. They may be right, or we
may be; but we must not think we are reading either one or the
other by putting our meaning into their words.
[Ruskin goes on to discuss other expressions with the same minuteness.]
=Contributions from Other Studies.=—In acquiring any new science or art
one learns many new terms, some of which are not too technical for use
in themes. For that matter, every exercise written in any subject cannot
help being to some extent an exercise in English. The vocabulary book
should receive contributions from every line of the student’s work.
=Translation.=—There is no better means of making the memory yield up
the words which it has formerly caught, than translation. Professor A.
S. Hill quotes the reported words of Rufus Choate: “Translation should
be pursued to bring to mind and to employ all the words you already own,
and to tax and torment invention and discovery and the very deepest
memory for additional, rich, and admirably expressive words.”[40] Every
lesson in translating is a lesson in self-expression. Professor Carpenter
testifies[41] that the Latin-trained boys entering scientific schools are
remarkably superior in power of expression to those not so trained; and
his testimony is confirmed by the experience of many other teachers.
=Memorizing of Literature.=—To the habit of memorizing, many a person is
indebted not merely for high thoughts that cheer hours of solitude and
that stimulate his own thinking, but for command of words. The degree to
which the language of modern writers is derived from a few great authors
is startling. Shakespeare’s phrases are a part of the tissue of every
man’s speech to-day. Such writers as Charles Lamb bear Shakespeare’s mark
on every page. The language of the King James version of the Bible is
echoed in modern English prose and poetry. It formed styles so unlike as
those of Bunyan, Ruskin, and Abraham Lincoln. Most teachers would declare
that a habit of learning Scripture by heart is of incalculable value to a
student’s English. In the Authorized Version, and to almost as great an
extent in the Revised Version, the Anglo-Saxon element and the Latin are
both present in marvellous effectiveness.[42]
It is clear that whatever help one’s writing is to receive from
memorizing will come naturally through one’s study of literature. But
so many of the strongest words in the language, particularly the Saxon
words, have been treasured up in the homely sayings of the people, that
I have ventured to suggest a list of proverbs for memorizing. Just how
many of these it may be advisable for a given pupil to retain in mind is
a matter to be decided by the instructor. Certainly each student will do
well to learn a score of those that seem to him best worth remembering.
Each saying preserves some fine word in some natural context, a fact that
will make the word far easier to recall than it would be if learned as
an isolated term. Not more than ten or fifteen minutes a day ought to be
given to the memorizing.
ENGLISH PROVERBS[43]
A brave retreat is a brave exploit.
A carper can cavil at anything.
A carrion kite will never make a good hawk.
A child is better unborn than untaught.
A custom more honored in the breach than in the observance.
A dogmatical tone, a pragmatical pate.
A diligent scholar, and the master’s paid.
A dog’s life, hunger and ease.
A dwarf on a giant’s shoulders sees farther of the two.
A fair field and no favor.
A fault confessed is half redressed.
A fine new nothing.
A fool always comes short of his reckoning.
A fool will not be foiled.
A forced kindness deserves no thanks.
A good cause makes a stout heart and a strong arm.
A good name keeps its lustre in the dark.
A grain of prudence is worth a pound of craft.
A great city, a great solitude.
A honey tongue, a heart of gall.
A man may buy gold too dear.
A man must sell his ware at the rates of the market.
A man never surfeits of too much honesty.
A nod for a wise man, and a rod for a fool.
A penny saved is a penny got.
A wicked book is the wickeder because it cannot repent.
A wager is a fool’s argument.
All complain of want of memory, but none of want of judgment.
All the craft is in the catching.
An unpeaceable man hath no neighbor.
Antiquity is not always a mark of verity.
As wily as a fox.
Better lose a jest than a friend.
Better to go away longing than loathing.
By ignorance we mistake, and by mistakes we learn.
Children are certain cares, but uncertain comforts.
Clowns are best in their own company, but gentlemen are best everywhere.
Conscience cannot be compelled.
Cutting out well is better than sewing up well.
Danger and delight grow on one stock.
Decency and decorum are not pride.
Different sores must have different salves.
Dexterity comes by experience.
Do not spur a free horse.
Even reckoning makes long friends.
Every age confutes old errors and begets new.
Every man hath a fool in his sleeve.
Faint praise is disparagement.
Force without forecast is of little avail.
From fame to infamy is a beaten road.
Great businesses turn on a little pin.
Great spenders are bad lenders.
He is lifeless that is faultless.
Heaven will make amends for all.
Let your purse be your master.
Idleness is the greatest prodigality in the world.
Ignorance is a voluntary misfortune.
It is a wicked thing to make a dearth one’s garner.
Lean liberty is better than fat slavery.
Self-love is a mote in every man’s eye.
Sloth is the key to poverty.
Some sport is sauce to pains.
Subtility set a trap and caught itself.
Temporizing is sometimes great wisdom.
The goat must browse where he is tied.
The poet, of all sorts of artificers, is the fondest of his works.
The prick of a pin is enough to make an empire insipid.
The purest gold is the most ductile.
There’s a craft in daubing.
Thrift is good revenue.
Too much consulting confounds.
Truth needs not many words, but a false tale a large preamble.
Truths too fine-spun are subtle fooleries.
Upbraiding turns a benefit into an injury.
Use your wit as a buckler, not as a sword.
What God made, he never mars.
When honor grew mercenary, money grew honorable.
Where vice is, vengeance follows.
=Synonyms.=—A synonym is a word that means the same or nearly the same
thing as some other word. Our language, from its composite nature, is
peculiarly rich in synonyms. In hundreds of cases English has absorbed
both the Saxon and the French or Latin word for a given idea. Nearly
always, in such cases, one of the words has acquired a distinctly
different shade of meaning from the other. Indeed, one of the words
is sure to acquire a slightly different _value_, whether from its
associations or its sound. While it may roughly be said that there are
words which mean the same thing, yet for the really careful writer there
are no synonyms.
=Synonyms for Adjectives of Praise.=—In another sense there are many
people who seem to have no synonyms. You have doubtless known persons who
lacked all means of differentiating praise,—persons who applied the same
adjective to everything, from a pin to the solar system. There are the
people who find everything either _nice_ or _not nice_; the people who
eat _elegant soups_ and sigh at _elegant sunsets_; the people who have
_jolly times_, _jolly canes_, _jolly excuses_. To the _nice_ group, the
_elegant_ group, and the _jolly_ group, may be added the _lovely_ group,
and many others.
=Oral Exercise.=—Apply several proper adjectives of praise to each of
the following: soup, sunset, poodle, lady, moon, time (_e.g._ meaning
an excursion), silk, opera, book-binding, gown, face, mountain, box of
sweets, ice-cream, disposition, story, manner, soul, fan, perfume, roses,
piano-playing, sermon, editorial or leader, critique.
=A Danger.=—The study of synonyms cultivates discrimination. But as a
study for the purpose of widening the active vocabulary it must be
judiciously limited. If one turns to a book of synonyms, one finds on
many a page some score of words meaning nearly the same thing. Many of
these words are unusual, out-of-the-way expressions, to use which would
make a man sound like a prig. Simplicity is a cardinal virtue in writing.
If this fact is kept in mind, and the student does not affect too
elaborate and bookish words, the study of synonyms will be of the utmost
service to him.
=A Method of Study.=—Below are listed a good many groups of synonyms.
They are to be studied now and to be used hereafter for reference in the
work of writing. Each group contains only a few of the words that might
demand a place if the question were merely one of meaning. The words here
chosen are such as may properly appear in the work of any high school
student, _if there is need of them to express the student’s meaning_.
Even in these groups some words are simpler, and therefore in general
more desirable. _The class should first examine the entire list,
underlining carefully the simpler words in each group. These, simpler
words are regularly to be preferred when their meaning is exact enough
for the idea in mind._ The others are to be mastered for the sake of the
distinctions they express, and for their occasional usefulness as a means
of avoiding repetitions.
The underlining finished, the groups may further be studied with a view
to discriminating the various terms. Fifteen minutes a day is enough to
devote to this work, and in some cases it may be best to examine minutely
only a part of the list, leaving the rest to be used for reference.
=Written Exercise.=—It will be found useful to spend five minutes a day
in copying off several times each unfamiliar word. Unless the hand is
accustomed to tracing the word, the mind will not be likely to demand
this act of the hand in the moment of composition.
=Oral Exercise.=—Each student may be asked to pronounce every word that
he has not been in the habit of using orally. Since the same term is
likely to have been neglected by many of the class, a considerable amount
of ear-training will be received by all.
=Oral Exercise.=—One of the best, because most natural, ways of studying
synonyms, is to examine a page of good prose with a view to seeing
whether synonyms could have been used as effectively as the actual words
in the text. Choose such a page, underline the important words, and
examine the list to find the group to which each belongs. Then substitute
for the word in the text the other words of the group, and see whether
the author’s choice was wise.
=Oral Exercise.=—Each group should be taken up in turn and discussed by
the class after the meanings of unfamiliar words have been looked up in
the dictionary. The force of each word _as a synonym of the others in its
group_ should be brought out by illustrative sentences. The differences
in meaning should be talked about until they are thoroughly understood.
Fernald’s _Synonyms, Antonyms, and Prepositions_, and Smith’s _Synonyms
Discriminated_, are good books of reference if any doubtful question
arises.
=Written Exercise.=—Study an assigned number of groups, and pick out the
word which seems to have the most general meaning, the word which, more
than any other, includes the remaining members of the group. Thus, in the
series _Actual_, _authentic_, _genuine_, _real_, the last is the most
general term. Real applies to a larger number of things than any of its
synonyms.
=Written Exercise.=—Study an assigned number of groups, and say what idea
the members of each have in common, and, if possible, what additional
idea each member has. Thus, _Adept_, _adroit_, _deft_, _dexterous_,
_handy_, _skilful_, each have the idea _skilful_. _Adept_ means skilful
in some art or occupation. _Adroit_ means skilful with the hand, or with
the mind,—_i.e._ tactful. _Deft_, _dexterous_ usually mean skilful with
the hand; _deft_ refers to movements of the fingers, _dexterous_ to
quick motions, as of the hand. _Handy_ means skilful at manual exercises.
=Oral Exercise.=—One member of each group should be pronounced, and the
student asked to give from memory the other members.
=Oral or Written Exercise.=—Only one part of speech is represented in
each group. The student should be asked to give corresponding parts of
speech. Thus, the adjective series _Actual_, _authentic_, _genuine_,
_real_, yields the adverbs _actually_, _authentically_, _genuinely_,
_really_, and the nouns _actuality_, _authenticity_, _genuineness_,
_reality_.
GROUPS OF SYNONYMS[44]
Abandon, cast off, desert, forswear, quit, renounce, withdraw
from.
Abate, decrease, diminish, mitigate, moderate.
Abhor, abominate, detest, dislike, loathe.
Abiding, enduring, lasting, permanent, perpetual.
Ability, capability, capacity, competency, efficacy, power.
Abolish, annul, eradicate, exterminate, obliterate, root out,
wipe out.
Abomination, curse, evil, iniquity, nuisance, shame.
Absent, absent-minded, absorbed, abstracted, oblivious,
preoccupied.
Absolve, acquit, clear.
Abstemiousness, abstinence, frugality, moderation, sobriety,
temperance.
Absurd, ill-advised, ill-considered, ludicrous, monstrous,
paradoxical, preposterous, unreasonable, wild.
Abundant, adequate, ample, enough, generous, lavish, plentiful.
Accomplice, ally, colleague, helper, partner.
Active, agile, alert, brisk, bustling, energetic, lively,
supple.
Actual, authentic, genuine, real.
Adept, adroit, deft, dexterous, handy, skilful.
Address, adroitness, courtesy, readiness, tact.
Adequate, competent, equal, fitted, suitable.
Adjacent, adjoining, bordering, near, neighboring.
Admire, adore, respect, revere, venerate.
Admit, allow, concede, grant, suffer, tolerate.
Admixture, alloy.
Adverse, disinclined, indisposed, loath, reluctant, slow,
unwilling.
Aerial, airy, animated, ethereal, frolicsome.
Affectation, cant, hypocrisy, pretence, sham.
Affirm, assert, avow, declare, maintain, state.
Aged, ancient, antiquated, antique, immemorial, old, venerable.
Air, bearing, carriage, demeanor.
Akin, alike, identical.
Alert, on the alert, sleepless, wary, watchful.
Allay, appease, calm, pacify.
Alliance, coalition, compact, federation, union, fusion.
Allude, hint, imply, insinuate, intimate, suggest.
Allure, attract, cajole, coax, inveigle, lure.
Amateur, connoisseur, novice, tyro.
Amend, better, mend, reform, repair.
Amplify, develop, expand, extend, unfold, widen.
Amusement, diversion, entertainment, pastime.
Anger, exasperation, petulance, rage, resentment.
Animal, beast, brute, living creature, living organism.
Answer, rejoinder, repartee, reply, response, retort.
Anticipate, forestall, preclude, prevent.
Apiece, individually, severally, separately.
Apparent, clear, evident, obvious, tangible, unmistakable.
Apprehend, comprehend, conceive, perceive, understand.
Arraign, charge, cite, impeach, indict, prosecute, summon.
Arrogance, haughtiness, presumption, pride, self-complacency,
superciliousness, vanity.
Artist, artificer, artisan, mechanic, operative, workman.
Artless, boorish, clownish, hoidenish, rude, uncouth,
unsophisticated.
Assent, agree, comply.
Assurance, effrontery, hardihood, impertinence, impudence,
incivility, insolence, officiousness, rudeness.
Atom, grain, scrap, particle, shred, whit.
Atrocious, barbaric, barbarous, brutal, merciless.
Attack, assault, infringement, intrusion, onslaught.
Attain, accomplish, achieve, arrive at, compass, reach, secure.
Attempt, endeavor, essay, strive, try, undertake.
Attitude, pose, position, posture.
Attribute, ascribe, assign, charge, impute.
Axiom, truism.
Baffle, balk, bar, check, embarrass, foil, frustrate, hamper,
hinder, impede, retard, thwart.
Banter, burlesque, drollery, humor, jest, raillery, wit,
witticism.
Beg, plead, press, urge.
Beguile, divert, enliven, entertain, occupy.
Bewilderment, confusion, distraction, embarrassment, perplexity.
Bind, fetter, oblige, restrain, restrict.
Blaze, flame, flare, flash, flicker, glare, gleam, gleaming,
glimmer, glitter, light, lustre, shimmer, sparkle.
Blessed, hallowed, holy, sacred, saintly.
Boasting, display, ostentation, pomp, pompousness, show.
Brave, adventurous, bold, courageous, daring, dauntless,
fearless, gallant, heroic, undismayed.
Bravery, coolness, courage, gallantry, heroism.
Brief, concise, pithy, sententious, terse.
Bring over, convince, induce, influence, persuade, prevail
upon, win over.
Calamity, disaster, misadventure, mischance, misfortune, mishap.
Candid, impartial, open, straightforward, transparent,
unbiassed, unprejudiced, unreserved.
Caprice, humor, vagary, whim.
Candor, frankness, truth, veracity.
Caricature, burlesque, parody, travesty.
Catch, capture, clasp, clutch, grip, secure.
Cause, consideration, design, end, ground, motive, object,
reason, purpose.
Caution, discretion, prudence.
Censure, criticism, rebuke, reproof, reprimand, reproach.
Character, constitution, disposition, reputation, temper,
temperament.
Characteristic, peculiarity, property, singularity, trait.
Chattering, garrulous, loquacious, talkative.
Cheer, comfort, delight, ecstasy, gaiety, gladness,
gratification, happiness, jollity, satisfaction.
Churlish, crusty, gloomy, gruff, ill-natured, morose, sour,
sullen, surly.
Class, circle, clique, coterie.
Cloak, cover, gloss over, mitigate, palliate, screen.
Cloy, sate, satiate, satisfy, surfeit.
Commit, confide, consign, entrust, relegate.
Compassion, forbearance, lenience, mercy.
Compassionate, gracious, humane.
Complete, consummate, faultless, flawless, perfect.
Confirm, corroborate.
Conflicting, discordant, discrepant, incongruous, mismated.
Confused, discordant, miscellaneous, various.
Conjecture, guess, suppose, surmise.
Conscious, aware, certain.
Consequence, issue, outcome, outgrowth, result, sequel, upshot.
Continual, continuous, incessant, unbroken, uninterrupted.
Credible, conceivable, likely, presumable, probable, reasonable.
Customary, habitual, normal, prevailing, usual, wonted.
Damage, detriment, disadvantage, harm, hurt, injury, prejudice.
Dangerous, formidable, terrible.
Defame, deprecate, disparage, slander, vilify.
Defile, infect, soil, stain, sully, taint, tarnish.
Deleterious, detrimental, hurtful, harmful, mischievous,
pernicious, ruinous.
Delicate, fine, minute, refined, slender.
Delightful, grateful, gratifying, refreshing, satisfying.
Difficult, laborious, toilsome, trying.
Digress, diverge, stray, swerve, wander.
Disavow, disclaim, disown, recall, renounce, repudiate, retract.
Dispose, draw, incline, induce, influence, move, prompt, stir.
Earlier, foregoing, previous, preliminary.
Effeminate, feminine, womanish, womanly.
Emergency, extremity, necessity.
Empty, fruitless, futile, idle, trifling, unavailing, useless,
vain, visionary.
Erudition, knowledge, profundity, sagacity, sense, wisdom.
Eternal, imperishable, interminable, perennial, perpetual,
unfailing.
Excuse, pretence, pretext, subterfuge.
Exemption, immunity, liberty, license, privilege.
Explicit, express.
Faint, faint-hearted, faltering, half-hearted, irresolute,
languid, listless, purposeless.
Faithful, loyal, stanch, trustworthy, trusty.
Fanciful, fantastic, grotesque, imaginative, visionary.
Folly, imbecility, senselessness, stupidity.
Fling, gibe, jeer, mock, scoff, sneer, taunt.
Flock, bevy, brood, covey, drove, herd, litter, pack.
Fluctuate, hesitate, oscillate, vacillate, waver.
Grief, melancholy, regret, sadness, sorrow.
Hale, healthful, healthy, salutary, sound, vigorous.
Ignorant, illiterate, uninformed, uninstructed, unlettered,
untaught.
Impulsive, involuntary, spontaneous, unbidden, voluntary,
willing.
Indispensable, inevitable, necessary, requisite, unavoidable.
Inquisitive, inquiring, intrusive, meddlesome, peeping, prying.
Intractable, perverse, petulant, ungovernable, wayward, wilful.
Irritation, offence, pique, resentment.
Probably, presumably.
Reliable, trustworthy, trusty.
Remnant, trace, token, vestige.
Requite, repay, retaliate, satisfy.
=Oral or Written Exercise.=—In the following, vary the overworked words
as much as possible. Permit repetition only when it is necessary for
clearness.
1. I think the committee selected to select theme topics for the class
to write upon, should be careful not to select too many topics on one
subject, since the nature of one student differs from that of another. I
think that the few who are not satisfied with the topics the committee
have selected, should be required to select and hand in a list of topics
on which they would like to write.
2. There are two distinct stories running through the Merchant of Venice:
the story of the pound of flesh and the story of the caskets. These
stories run parallel to each other through the play, as far as the third
act, where the story of the caskets is ended by the lucky choice of
Bassanio. But from here a new story, the story of the rings, commences,
and continues through the rest of the play, crossing the story of the
pound of flesh and finally taking the place of this story.
=Future Revision.=—Henceforth one distinct object for which every
theme should be revised is _variety of words_. It soon becomes a
keen satisfaction to read one’s own work aloud to detect overworked
expressions. In the pursuit of variety, the scholar not merely grows
sensitive to the ugly recurrence of the same sound; he grows bold to
repeat words if the repetition is demanded for clearness or force. Some
things seem to have but one name in English; more’s the pity; but we must
make the best of the case.