“The iron age returned to Erebus,
And Honorificabilitudinitatibus
Thrust out the kingdom by the head and shoulders.”
Referring to Shakespeare’s appropriation of this ponderous word, which
first appeared in a volume entitled “The Complaynt of Scotland,”
published at St. Andrew’s in 1548, a commentator says,—
“The splendid procession-word _honorificabilitudinitatibus_ has been
pressed into the service of the Baconian theory as containing the cipher
_initiohi ludi Fr. Bacona_, or some other silly trash. The word was no
doubt a stock example of the longest Latin word, as the Aristophanic
compound ὀρθοφοιτοσυχοφαντοδιχοταλαιπωροι is of the longest Greek word,
and was very probably a reminiscence of Shakespeare’s school-days, as
the distich
Conturbabantur Constantinopolitani
Innumerabilibus sollicitudinibus
is of our own.”
_Trifles_
A smart girl in Vassar claims that Phtholognyrrh should be pronounced
Turner, and gives this little table to explain her theory:
First—Pbth (as in phthisis) is T
Second—olo (as in colonel) is UR
Third—gn (as in gnat) is N
Fourth—yrrh (as in myrrh) is ER
An ignorant Yorkshireman, having occasion to go to France, was surprised
on his arrival to hear the men speaking French, the women speaking
French, and the children jabbering away in the same tongue. In the
height of the perplexity which this occasioned he retired to his hotel,
and was awakened in the morning by the cock crowing, whereupon he burst
into a wild exclamation of astonishment and delight, crying, “Thank
goodness, there’s English at last!”
An Irish gentleman writes to _Truth_ to say that he has never found a
Frenchman who can pronounce this: “Thimblerig Thristlethwaite thievishly
thought to thrive through thick and thin by throwing his thimbles about,
but he was thwarted and thwacked and thumped and thrashed with
thirty-three thousand thistles and thorns for thievishly thinking to
thrive through thick and through thin by throwing the thimbles about.”
Scene at Continental kursaal: English party at card table—“Hello, we are
two to two.” English party at opposite table—“We are two to two, to.”
German spectator, who “speaks English,” to companion who is acquiring
the language—“Vell, now you see how dis is. Off you want to gife
expression to yourself in English all you have to do is to blay mit der
French horn!”
_A Perplexing Word_
In the “Reminiscences of Holland House” is the following anecdote of
Voltaire: “While learning the English language (which he did not love),
finding that the word _plague_, with six letters, was monosyllabic, and
_ague_, with only the last four letters of _plague_, dissyllabic, he
expressed a wish that the _plague_ might take one-half of the English
language, and the _ague_ the other.”
_Verbal Conceits_
“Bob,” said Tom, “which is the most dangerous word to pronounce in the
English language?”
“Don’t know,” said Bob, “unless it’s a swearing word.”
“Pooh!” said Tom, “it’s _stumbled_, because you are sure to get a tumble
between the first and last letter.”
“Ha! ha!” said Bob. “Now I’ve one for you. I found it one day in the
paper. Which is the longest word in the English language?”
“Valetudinarianism,” said Tom, promptly.
“No, sir; it’s _smiles_, because there’s a whole mile between the first
and the last letter.”
“Ho! ho!” cried Tom, “that’s nothing. I know a word that has over
_three_ miles between its beginning and ending.”
“What’s that?” asked Bob, faintly.
“Be_league_red,” said Tom.
_Philological Contrarieties_
A gentleman, having an appointment with another who was habitually
unpunctual, to his great surprise found him waiting. He thus addressed
him: “Why, I see you are here first at last. You were always behind
before, but I am glad to see you have become early of late.”
_The Aspirate_
When Mr. Justice Hawkins of the English Queen’s Bench was a leader at
the bar, he appeared in a shipping case before the late Baron Channel,
who was a little shaky with his aspirates. The name of the vessel about
which the dispute had arisen was Hannah; but Hawkins’s “junior,” in
utter desperation, said to him, “Is the ship the Anna or the Hannah, for
his lordship says one thing and every one else says another?” “The
ship,” said Hawkins, in reply, “was named the Hannah, but the H has been
lost in the chops of the Channel!”
In “Much Ado About Nothing,” where _Beatrice_ is touched with her first
love longing for _Benedict_, occurs this passage:
“_Beat._ ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin. ’Tis time you were ready. By
my troth I am exceeding ill; heigh ho!
_Margaret._ For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
_Beat._ For the letter that begins them all, _h_.”
This is supposed to be a poor pun on _ache_, but be that as it may, it
seems clear that _Margaret_ must have been supposed to sound the
aspirate clearly in each of the words she used. Had she said, “For an
’awk, an ’orse, or an ’usband,” _Beatrice’s_ joke about the letter _h_,
which in that case would not have been used at all, would have been
absurd. On this single illustration one might build quite an argument to
show that Shakespeare did not drop his _h’s_.
_Alliterative Tribute to Swinburne_
Lord of the lyre! of languaged lightning lord!
Master of matchless melting melody!
Philosopher of Freedom! foe of falsity!
Smiter of sin with song’s swift sleepless sword!—
Lo, tyrants tremble as they turn toward
Thee, pearled and panoplied in poesy,
Winged for the warfield, waiting wistfully
Thy ripe Republic of all rights restored.
_Vulcan_
“Lo! from Lemnos limping lamely
Lags the lowly lord of fire.”
Roared the fire before the bellows; glowed the forge’s dazzling crater;
Rang the hammers on the anvils, both the lesser and the greater;
Fell the sparks around the smithy, keeping rhythm to the clamor,
To the ponderous blows and clanging of each unrelenting hammer,
While the diamonds of labor, from the curse of Adam borrowed,
Glittered like a crown of honor on each iron-beater’s forehead.
_Compressing the Alphabet_
When the following sentence of forty-eight letters first appeared, it
was regarded as the shortest in the English language capable of
containing all the letters of the alphabet:—
“John P. Brady gave me a black walnut box of quite a small size.”
But this was improved upon by a sentence of thirty-three letters
containing the twenty-six letters of the alphabet:
“A quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”
Another sentence of thirty-three letters is the following:
“J. Gray—Pack with my box five dozen quills.”
With a change in construction this is reduced by one letter, making
thirty-two:
“Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.”
_Alphabetical Fancies_
A gentleman travelling in a railway carriage was endeavoring, with
considerable earnestness, to impress some argument upon a
fellow-passenger who was seated opposite to him, and who appeared rather
dull of apprehension. At length, being slightly irritated, he exclaimed,
in a louder tone, “Why, sir, it’s as plain as A B C!” “That may be,”
quietly replied the other, “but I am D E F!”
This alphabetical rhyme on “Naughty Janie” appeared in _Longman’s
Magazine_:
Anger, baseness, craft, disdain,
Every fault { God hates } is Janie’s;
{ girls have }
Kind language moves not—only pain
Quite rightly serves—these uppish vain
Worthless Xantippes, yawning zanies.
If an S and an I and an O and a U,
With an X at the end, spell Su;
And an E and a Y and an E spell I,
Pray, what is a speller to do?
Then, if also an S and an I and a G
And an H E D spell cide,
There’s nothing much left for a speller to do
But to go and commit siouxeyesighed.
A laughable incident once took place upon a trial in Lancashire, where
the Rev. Mr. Wood was examined as a witness. Upon giving his name,
Ottiwell Wood, the judge, addressing the reverend parson, said, “Pray,
Mr. Wood, how do you spell your name?” The old gentleman replied, “O
double T, I double U, E double L, double U, double O, D.” Upon which the
astonished lawyer laid down his pen, saying it was the most
extraordinary name he had ever met in his life, and after two or three
attempts, declared he was unable to record it. The court was convulsed
with laughter.
A saloon-keeper, having started business in a place where trunks had
been made, asked a friend what he had better do with the old sign,
“Trunk Factory.”
“Oh,” said the friend, “just change the T to D, and it will suit you
exactly.”
_Palindromes_
A palindrome is a word, sentence, or verse that reads the same, forward
and backward, from left to right, or from right to left. The Latin
language abounds with palindromes, but there are few good ones in
English. The following will serve as specimens.
Madam, I’m Adam. (_Adam to Eve._)
Able was I ere I saw Elba. (_Napoleon loq._)
Name no one man.
Red root put up to order.
Draw pupil’s lip upward.
No, it is opposition.
The last has been extended to: “No, it is opposed; art sees trade’s
opposition.” In Yreka, California, is a baker’s sign which maybe called
a natural palindrome: “Yreka Bakery.”
_Words Wrong, Pronunciation Right_
The following is an illustration of pronunciation and spelling in the
use of wrong words which have the same pronunciation as the right words,
and which, properly read, would sound right. A rite suite little buoy,
the sun of a grate kernal, with a rough about his neck, flue up the rode
swift as eh dear. After a thyme he stopped at a gnu house and wrang the
belle. His tow hurt hymn, and he kneaded wrest. He was two tired to raze
his fare pail face. A feint mown of pane rows from his lips. The made
who herd the belle was about to pair a pare, but she through it down and
ran with all her mite, for fear her guessed would not weight. Butt, when
she saw the little won, tiers stood in her eyes at the site. “Ewe poor
dear! Why, due yew lye hear! Are yew dyeing?” “Know,” he said, “I am
feint two thee corps.” She boar him inn her arms, as she aught, too a
room where he mite bee quiet, gave him bred and meet, held cent under
his knows, tied his choler, rapped him warmly, gave him some suite
drachm from a viol, till at last he went fourth hail as a young hoarse.
His eyes shown, his cheek was as read as a flour, and he gambled a hole
our.
_The Power of Short Words_
Secretary Stanton, while in charge of the War Department during our
sectional conflict, had a curt way of doing things and a desire to
attain his ends by the shortest possible roads. Hence his fondness for
monosyllables. Ex-Governor Letcher, of Virginia, was taken prisoner
during the war and confined in prison in Washington. After the lapse of
two months and a half, he managed to get released on parole, and this
was Stanton’s characteristic order and the whole of it,—
WASHINGTON, D. C., July 25, 1863.—John Letcher is hereby paroled. He
will go home by the same road he came here, and will stay there and
keep quiet.