us, as they do, to say exactly what we intend, without exaggerating or
putting more into our speech than we feel in our hearts, allowing us to
be at once courteous and truthful. Such moral advantage there is, for
example, in the choice which we have between the words 'to felicitate'
and 'to congratulate,' for the expressing of our sentiments and wishes
in regard of the good fortune that may happen to others. To
'felicitate' another is to wish him happiness, without affirming that
his happiness is also ours. Thus, out of that general goodwill with
which we ought to regard all, we might 'felicitate' one almost a
stranger to us; nay, more, I can honestly 'felicitate' one on his
appointment to a post, or attainment of an honour, even though _I_ may
not consider him the fittest to have obtained it, though I should have
been glad if another had done so; I can desire and hope, that is, that
it may bring all joy and happiness to him. But I could not, without a
violation of truth, 'congratulate' him, or that stranger whose
prosperity awoke no lively delight in my heart; for when I
'congratulate' a person (congratulor), I declare that I am sharer in
his joy, that what has rejoiced him has rejoiced also me. We have all,
I dare say, felt, even without having analysed the distinction between
the words, that 'congratulate' is a far heartier word than
'felicitate,' and one with which it much better becomes us to welcome
the good fortune of a friend; and the analysis, as you perceive,
perfectly justifies the feeling. 'Felicitations' are little better than
compliments; 'congratulations' are the expression of a genuine sympathy
and joy.
Let me illustrate the importance of synonymous distinctions by another
example, by the words, 'to invent' and 'to discover'; or 'invention'
and 'discovery.' How slight may seem to us the distinction between them,
even if we see any at all. Yet try them a little closer, try them,
which is the true proof, by aid of examples, and you will perceive that
they can by no means be indifferently used; that, on the contrary, a
great truth lies at the root of their distinction. Thus we speak of the
'invention' of printing, of the 'discovery' of America. Shift these
words, and speak, for instance, of the 'invention' of America; you feel
at once how unsuitable the language is. And why? Because Columbus did
not make that to be, which before him had not been. America was there,
before he revealed it to European eyes; but that which before _was_, he
_showed_ to be; he withdrew the veil which hitherto had concealed it;
he 'discovered' it. So too we speak of Newton 'discovering' the law of
gravitation; he drew aside the veil whereby men's eyes were hindered
from perceiving it, but the law had existed from the beginning of the
world, and would have existed whether he or any other man had traced it
or no; neither was it in any way affected by the discovery of it which
he had made. But Gutenberg, or whoever else it may be to whom the
honour belongs, 'invented' printing; he made something to be, which
hitherto was not. In like manner Harvey 'discovered' the circulation of
the blood; but Watt 'invented' the steam-engine; and we speak, with a
true distinction, of the 'inventions' of Art, the 'discoveries' of
Science. In the very highest matters of all, it is deeply important
that we be aware of and observe the distinction. In religion there have
been many 'discoveries,' but (in true religion I mean) no 'inventions.'
Many discoveries--but God in each case the discoverer; He draws aside
the veils, one veil after another, that have hidden Him from men; the
discovery or revelation is from Himself, for no man by searching has
found out God; and therefore, wherever anything offers itself as an
'invention' in matters of religion, it proclaims itself a lie,--as are
all self-devised worships, all religions which man projects from his
own heart. Just that is known of God which He is pleased to make known,
and no more; and men's recognizing or refusing to recognize in no way
affects it. They may deny or may acknowledge Him, but He continues the
same.
As involving in like manner a distinction which cannot safely be lost
sight of, how important the difference, the existence of which is
asserted by our possession of the two words, 'to apprehend' and 'to
comprehend' with their substantives 'apprehension' and 'comprehension.'
For indeed we 'apprehend' many truths, which we do not 'comprehend.'
The great mysteries of our faith--the doctrine, for instance, of the
Holy Trinity, we lay hold upon it, we hang on it, our souls live by it;
but we do not '_com_prehend' it, that is, we do not take it all in; for
it is a necessary attribute of God that He is _incomprehensible_; if He
were not so, either He would not be God, or the Being that comprehended
Him would be God also (Matt, xi. 27). But it also belongs to the idea
of God that He may be '_ap_prehended' though not '_com_prehended' by
his reasonable creatures; He has made them to know Him, though not to
know Him _all_, to '_ap_prehend' though not to '_com_prehend' Him. We
may transfer with profit the same distinction to matters not quite so
solemn. Thus I read Goldsmith's _Traveller_, or one of Gay's _Fables_,
and I feel that I 'comprehend' it;--I do not believe, that is, that
there was anything stirring in the poet's mind or intention, which I
have not in the reading reproduced in my own. But I read _Hamlet_, or
_King Lear_: here I 'apprehend' much; I have wondrous glimpses of the
poet's intention and aim; but I do not for an instant suppose that I
have 'comprehended,' taken in, that is, all that was in his mind in the
writing; or that his purpose does not stretch in manifold directions
far beyond the range of my vision; and I am sure there are few who
would not shrink from affirming, at least if they at all realized the
force of the words they were using, that they 'comprehended
'Shakespeare; however much they may 'apprehend' in him.
How often 'opposite' and 'contrary' are used as if there was no
difference between them, and yet there is a most essential one, one
which perhaps we may best express by saying that 'opposites' complete,
while 'contraries' exclude one another. Thus the most 'opposite' moral
or mental characteristics may meet in one and the same person, while to
say that the most 'contrary' did so, would be manifestly absurd; for
example, a soldier may be at once prudent and bold, for these are
opposites; he could not be at once prudent and rash, for these are
contraries. We may love and fear at the same time and the same person;
we pray in the Litany that we may love and dread God, the two being
opposites, and thus the complements of one another; but to pray that we
might love and hate would be as illogical as it would be impious, for
these are contraries, and could no more co-exist together than white
and black, hot and cold, in the same subject at the same time. Or to
take another illustration, sweet and sour are 'opposites,' sweet and
bitter are 'contraries,' [Footnote: See Coleridge, _Church and State_,
p. 18.] It will be seen then that there is always a certain relation
between 'opposites'; they unfold themselves, though in different
directions, from the same root, as the positive and negative forces of
electricity, and in their very opposition uphold and sustain one
another; while 'contraries' encounter one another from quarters quite
diverse, and one only subsists in the exact degree that it puts out of
working the other. Surely this distinction cannot be an unimportant one
either in the region of ethics or elsewhere.
It will happen continually, that rightly to distinguish between two
words will throw a flood of light upon some controversy in which they
play a principal part, nay, may virtually put an end to that
controversy altogether. Thus when Hobbes, with a true instinct, would
have laid deep the foundations of atheism and despotism together,
resolving all right into might, and not merely robbing men, if he could,
of the power, but denying to them the duty, of obeying God rather than
man, his sophisms could stand only so long as it was not perceived that
'compulsion' and 'obligation,' with which he juggled, conveyed two
ideas perfectly distinct, indeed disparate, in kind. Those sophisms of
his collapsed at once, so soon as it was perceived that what pertained
to one had been transferred to the other by a mere confusion of terms
and cunning sleight of hand, the former being a _physical_, the latter
a _moral_, necessity.
There is indeed no such fruitful source of confusion and mischief as
this--two words are tacitly assumed as equivalent, and therefore
exchangeable, and then that which may be assumed, and with truth, of
one, is assumed also of the other, of which it is not true. Thus, for
instance, it often is with 'instruction' and 'education,' Cannot we
'instruct' a child, it is asked, cannot we teach it geography, or
arithmetic, or grammar, quite independently of the Catechism, or even
of the Scriptures? No doubt you may; but can you 'educate' without
bringing moral and spiritual forces to bear upon the mind and
affections of the child? And you must not be permitted to transfer the
admissions which we freely make in regard of 'instruction,' as though
they also held good in respect of 'education.' For what is 'education'?
Is it a furnishing of a man from without with knowledge and facts and
information? or is it a drawing forth from within and a training of the
spirit, of the true humanity which is latent in him? Is the process of
education the filling of the child's mind, as a cistern is filled with
waters brought in buckets from some other source? or the opening up for
that child of fountains which are already there? Now if we give any
heed to the word 'education,' and to the voice which speaks therein, we
shall not long be in doubt. Education must educe, being from 'educare,'
which is but another form of 'educere'; and that is to draw out, and
not to put in. 'To draw out' what is in the child, the immortal spirit
which is there, this is the end of education; and so much the word
declares. The putting in is indeed most needful, that is, the child
must be instructed as well as educated, and 'instruction' means
furnishing; but not instructed instead of educated. He must first have
powers awakened in him, measures of value given him; and then he will
know how to deal with the facts of this outward world; then instruction
in these will profit him; but not without the higher training, still
less as a substitute for it.
It has occasionally happened that the question which out of two
apparent synonyms should be adopted in some important state-document
has been debated with no little earnestness and passion; as at the
great English Revolution of 1688, when the two Houses of Parliament
were at issue whether it should be declared of James II, that he had
'abdicated,' or had 'deserted,' the throne. This might seem at first
sight a mere strife about words, and yet, in reality, serious
constitutional questions were involved in the debate. The Commons
insisted on the word 'abdicated,' not as wishing to imply that in any
act of the late king there had been an official renunciation of the
crown, which would have been manifestly untrue; but because 'abdicated'
in their minds alone expressed the fact that James had so borne himself
as virtually to have entirely renounced, disowned, and relinquished the
crown, to have forfeited and separated himself from it, and from any
right to it for ever; while 'deserted' would have seemed to leave room
and an opening for a return, which they were determined to declare for
ever excluded; as were it said of a husband that he had 'deserted' his
wife, or of a soldier that he had 'deserted' his colours, this language
would imply not only that he might, but that he was bound to return.
The speech of Lord Somers on the occasion is a masterly specimen of
synonymous discrimination, and an example of the uses in highest
matters of state to which it may be turned. As little was it a mere
verbal struggle when, at the restoration a good many years ago of our
interrupted relations with Persia, Lord Palmerston insisted that the
Shah should address the Queen of England not as 'Maleketh' but as
'Padischah,' refusing to receive letters which wanted this
superscription.
Let me press upon you, in conclusion, some few of the many advantages
to be derived from the habit of distinguishing synonyms. These
advantages we might presume to be many, even though we could not
ourselves perceive them; for how often do the greatest masters of style
in every tongue, perhaps none so often as Cicero, the greatest of all,
[Footnote: Thus he distinguishes between 'voluntas' and 'cupiditas';
'cautio' and 'metus' (_Tusc_. iv. 6); 'gaudium,' 'laetitia,' 'voluptas'
(_Tusc_. iv. 6; _Fin_. ii. 4); 'prudentia' and 'sapientia' (_Off_. i.
43); 'caritas' and 'amor' (_De Part. Or_. 25); 'ebrius' and 'ebriosus,'
'iracundus' and 'iratus,' 'anxietas' and 'angor' (_Tusc_. iv. 12);
'vitium,' 'morbus,' and 'aegrotatio' (_Tusc_. iv. 13); 'labor' and
'dolor' (_Tusc_. ii. 15); 'furor' and 'insania' (_Tusc_. iii. 5);
'malitia' and 'vitiositas' (_Tusc_. iv. 15); 'doctus' and 'peritus'
(_Off_. i. 3). Quintilian also often bestows attention on synonyms,
observing well (vi. 3. 17): 'Pluribus nominibus in eadem re vulgo
utimur; quae tamen si diducas, suam quandam propriam vim ostendent;' he
adduces 'salsum,' 'urbanum,' 'facetum'; and elsewhere (v. 3) 'rumor'
and 'fama' are discriminated happily by him. Among Church writers
Augustine is a frequent and successful discriminator of words. Thus he
separates off from one another 'flagitium' and 'facinus' (_De Doct.
Christ_, iii. 10); 'aemulatio' and 'invidia' (_Expl. ad Gal._ x. 20);
'arrha' and 'pignus' (_Serm._ 23. 8,9); 'studiosus' and 'curiosus' (_De
Util. Cred._ 9); 'sapientia' and 'scientia' (_De Div. Quaes_. 2, qu.
2); 'senecta' and 'senium' (_Enarr. in Ps._ 70. l8); 'schisma' and
'haeresis' (_Con. Cresc_. 2. 7); with many more (see my _Synonyms of
the N.T._ Preface, p. xvi). Among the merits of the Grimms'
_Wörterbuch_ is the care which they, and those who have taken up their
work, bestow on the discrimination of synonyms; distinguishing, for
example, 'degen' and 'schwert'; 'feld,' 'acker' and 'heide'; 'aar' and
'adler'; 'antlitz' and 'angesicht'; 'kelch,' 'becher' and 'glas';
'frau' and 'weib'; 'butter,' 'schmalz' and 'anke'; 'kopf' and 'haupt';
'klug' and 'weise'; 'geben' and 'schenken'; 'heirath' and 'ehe.']
pause to discriminate between the words they are using; how much care
and labour, how much subtlety of thought, they have counted well
bestowed on the operation; how much importance they avowedly attach to
it; not to say that their works, even where they do not intend it, will
afford a continual lesson in this respect: a great writer merely in the
precision and accuracy with which he employs words will always be
exercising us in synonymous distinction. But the advantages of
attending to synonyms need not be taken on trust; they are evident. How
large a part of true wisdom it is to be able to distinguish between
things that differ, things seemingly, but not really, alike, is very
remarkably attested by our words 'discernment' and 'discretion'; which
are now used as equivalent, the first to 'insight,' the second to
'prudence'; while yet in their earlier usage, and according to their
etymology, being both from 'discerno,' they signify the power of so
seeing things that in the seeing we distinguish and separate them one
from another. [Footnote: L'esprit consiste à connaitre la ressemblance
des choses diverses, et la différence des choses semblables
(Montesquieu). Saint-Evremond says of a reunion of the Précieuses at
the Hotel Rambouillet, with a raillery which is not meant to be
disrespectful--
'Là se font distinguer les fiertés des rigueurs,
Les dédains des mépris, les tourments des langueurs;
On y sait démêler la crainte et les alarmes,
Discerner les attraits, les appas et les charmes.'] Such were
originally 'discernment' and 'discretion,' and such in great measure
they are still. And in words is a material ever at hand on which to
train the spirit to a skilfulness in this; on which to exercise its
sagacity through the habit of distinguishing there where it would be so
easy to confound. [Footnote: I will suggest here a few pairs or larger
groups of words on which those who are willing to exercise themselves
in the distinction of synonyms might perhaps profitably exercise their
skill;--'fame,' 'popularity,' 'celebrity,' 'reputation,' 'renown';--
'misfortune,' 'calamity,' 'disaster';--'impediment,' 'obstruction,'
'obstacle,' 'hindrance';--'temerity,' 'audacity,' 'boldness';--
'rebuke,' 'reprimand,' 'censure,' 'blame';--'adversary,' 'opponent,'
'antagonist,' 'enemy';--'rival,' 'competitor';--'affluence,'
'opulence,' 'abundance,' 'redundance';--'conduct,' 'behaviour,'
'demeanour,' 'bearing';--'execration,' 'malediction,' 'imprecation,'
'anathema';--'avaricious,' 'covetous,' 'miserly,' 'niggardly';--
'hypothesis,' 'theory,' 'system' (see De Quincey, _Lit. Rem._ American
ed. p.229);--'masculine,' 'manly';--'effeminate,' 'feminine';--
'womanly,' 'womanish';--'malicious,' 'malignant';--'savage,'
'barbarous,' 'fierce,' 'cruel,' 'inhuman';--'low, 'mean,' 'abject,'
'base';--'to chasten,' 'to punish,' 'to chastise';--'to exile,' 'to
banish';--'to declare,' 'to disclose,' 'to reveal,' 'to divulge';--'to
defend,' 'to protect,' 'to shelter';--'to excuse,' 'to palliate';--'to
compel,' 'to coerce,' 'to constrain,' 'to force.'] Nor is this habit
of discrimination only valuable as a part of our intellectual training;
but what a positive increase is it of mental wealth when we have
learned to discern between things which really differ, and have made
the distinctions between them permanently our own in the only way
whereby they can be made secure, that is, by assigning to each its
appropriate word and peculiar sign.
In the effort to trace lines of demarcation you may little by little be
drawn into the heart of subjects the most instructive; for only as you
have thoroughly mastered a subject, and all which is most
characteristic about it, can you hope to trace these lines with
accuracy and success. Thus a Roman of the higher classes might bear
four names: 'praenomen,' 'nomen,' 'cognomen,' 'agnomen'; almost always
bore three. You will know something of the political and family life of
Rome when you can tell the exact story of each of these, and the
precise difference between them. He will not be altogether ignorant of
the Middle Ages and of the clamps which in those ages bound society
together, who has learned exactly to distinguish between a 'fief' and a
'benefice.' He will have obtained a firm grasp on some central facts of
theology who can exactly draw out the distinction between
'reconciliation,' 'propitiation,' 'atonement,' as used in the New
Testament; of Church history, who can trace the difference between a
'schism' and a 'heresy.' One who has learned to discriminate between
'detraction' and 'slander,' as Barrow has done before him, [Footnote:
'Slander involveth an imputation of falsehood, but detraction may be
couched in truth, and clothed in fair language. It is a poison often
infused in sweet liquor, and ministered in a golden cup.' Compare
Spenser, _Fairy Queen_, 5. 12. 28-43.] or between 'emulation' and
'envy,' in which South has excellently shown him the way, [Footnote:
_Sermons_, 1737, vol. v. p. 403. His words are quoted in my _Select
Glossary_, s. v 'Emulation.'] or between 'avarice' and 'covetousness,'
with Cowley, will have made no unprofitable excursion into the region
of ethics.
How effectual a help, moreover, will it prove to the writing of a good
English style, if instead of choosing almost at hap-hazard from a group
of words which seem to us one about as fit for our purpose as another,
we at once know which, and which only, we ought in the case before us
to employ, which will prove the exact vesture of our thoughts. It is
the first characteristic of a well-dressed man that his clothes fit
him: they are not too small and shrunken here, too large and loose
there. Now it is precisely such a prime characteristic of a good style,
that the words fit close to the thoughts. They will not be too big here,
hanging like a giant's robe on the limbs of a dwarf; nor too small
there, as a boy's garments into which the man has painfully and
ridiculously thrust himself. You do not, as you read, feel in one place
that the writer means more than he has succeeded in saying; in another
that he has said more than he means; in a third something beside what
his precise intention was; in a fourth that he has failed to convey any
meaning at all; and all this from a lack of skill in employing the
instrument of language, of precision in knowing what words would be the
exactest correspondents and aptest exponents of his thoughts. [Footnote:
La propriété des termes est le caractère distinctif des grands
écrivains; c'est par là que leur style est toujours au niveau de leur
sujet; c'est à cette qualité qu'on reconnaît le vrai talent d'écrire,
et non à l'art futile de déguiser par un vain coloris les idées
communes. So D'Alembert; but Caesar long before had said, Delectus
verborum, eloquentiae origo.]
What a wealth of words in almost every language lies inert and unused;
and certainly not fewest in our own. How much of what might be as
current coin among us, is shut up in the treasure-house of a few
classical authors, or is never to be met at all but in the columns of
the dictionary, we meanwhile, in the midst of all this riches,
condemning ourselves to a voluntary poverty; and often, with tasks the
most delicate and difficult to accomplish,--for surely the clothing of
thought in its most appropriate garment of words is such,--needlessly
depriving ourselves of a large portion of the helps at our command;
like some workman who, being furnished for an operation that will
challenge all his skill with a dozen different tools, each adapted for
its own special purpose, should in his indolence and self-conceit
persist in using only one; doing coarsely what might have been done
finely; or leaving altogether undone that which, with such assistances,
was quite within his reach. And thus it comes to pass that in the
common intercourse of life, often too in books, a certain restricted
number of words are worked almost to death, employed in season and out
of season--a vast multitude meanwhile being rarely, if at all, called
to render the service which _they_ could render far better than any
other; so rarely, indeed, that little by little they slip out of sight
and are forgotten nearly or altogether. And then, perhaps, at some
later day, when their want is felt, the ignorance into which we have
allowed ourselves to fall, of the resources offered by the language to
satisfy new demands, sends us abroad in search of outlandish
substitutes for words which we already possess at home. [Footnote: Thus
I observe in modern French the barbarous 'derailler,' to get off the
rail; and this while it only needed to recall 'derayer' from the
oblivion into which it had been allowed to fall.] It was, no doubt, to
avoid so far as possible such an impoverishment of the language which
he spoke and wrote, for the feeding of his own speech with words
capable of serving him well, but in danger of falling quite out of his
use, that the great Lord Chatham had Bailey's Dictionary', the best of
his time, twice read to him from one end to the other.