THE BEHAVIOR OF WORDS
_The Words for Colors._
Any subdivision of the vocabulary could with profit be set aside for
particular study. Let us concentrate on the names for the colors, and
learn from them what they have to teach of the development of man and
his speech. The chief Sanskrit name for the abstract idea _color_ is
_varna_, derived from _var_, to cover. Color, therefore, was conceived
originally as the result of the act of covering or smearing or painting.
Our word, from the Lat. _color_, is connected with _oc-cultare_, to
hide; also with Gr. _chroma_, color, from Gr. _chros_, skin. Another
Sanskrit root for painting is _ang_, from which comes Lat. _unguere_, to
besmear, to anoint, and Sanskrit _ak-tu_, ointment, dark tinge, night,
and likewise light tinge or ray of light, from which Gr. _aktis_. Here
we have the first indication that the original conception of colors did
not distinguish clearly between them.
As Bucke’s “Cosmic Consciousness” indicates, the primitive Aryans,
perhaps 15,000 years ago, perceived or were conscious of only one color.
Primitive man of this time saw no difference of tint between blue sky,
green leaves, brown or gray earth, and the golden or purple clouds of
sunrise and sunset. Pictet finds no color word whatever in primitive
Indo-European speech; Max Muller finds no Sanskrit root with reference
to any definite color. At a later period, but before the oldest literary
compositions that have come down to us, the color sense developed into
an appreciation of two colors, black and red. The most ancient games,
such as chess and checkers, have black and red pieces. About the time
that the Rig Veda was composed, yellow was perceived as a separate third
color. Later came white, and then green. But throughout the Rig Veda,
the Zend Avesta, and the Bible the color of the sky is not once
mentioned, and was not recognized. The 10,000 lines of the Rig-Veda are
largely concerned with a description of the sky; the Bible mentions the
sky and heaven more than 430 times; neither mentions the color of the
sky. The 48 long books of the Odyssey and Iliad make no reference to it,
despite the crystal clarity of blue Mediterranean skies. 4,000, perhaps
3,000 years ago, blue was unrecognized; the subsequent names for blue
were all merged in the names for black. Xenophanes knew of only three
colors of the rainbow—purple, red, and yellow; Aristotle spoke of the
tri-colored rainbow; Democritus knew only four colors, black, red,
white, and yellow.
Let us trace down the words for color, and find how these abstract
conceptions were first phrased. Starting with the word _black_, we trace
it through M. E. _bleke_, A. S. _blaec_ (confused with a related word
meaning shining, white, etc., whence _bleak_), O. H. G. _blah_, _black_;
Icel. _blakkr_, dark, dusky; Sw. _black_, grayish; Dan. _blak_, dark;
and so on back to a verb appearing in Dan. _blaken_, burn, scorch; M. L.
G. _blaken_, burn with much smoke; L. G. _verblekken_, scorch, as the
sun scorches grain. This in turn is akin to Lat. _flagrare_, Gr.
_phlegein_, to burn; _flagrant_, _flame_, _phlegm_, _anti-phlogiston_
are from this root. From the _bleak_ form of the ancestry, going back to
Sanskrit _bhraj_, as did the _black_ meaning, akin to Gr. _phlegein_,
burn, Lat. _fulgere_, shine, we get the Eng. _blank_, _blink_, _blanch_,
_bleach_, _bright_. The Lat. _niger_, black, whence _negro_, etc., is
remotely kin to the Sanskrit _nic_, night. Thus the original meaning of
the root of _black_ is primarily to burn, to scorch—a physical fact.
_Red_, the second color to be distinguished, goes back through Teutonic
equivalents to A. S. _reodan_, make red, kill; akin to Lat. _ruber_ (for
_ruthr-_), Gr. _eruthros_, red; Lat. _rufus_, red; _rubidus_, dark red
(whence _ruby_), _russus_ and _rutilus_, reddish. The Ir. Gael, has
_ruadh_, Welsh _rhudd_, red; Bulg., Bohem., Russ., and other languages
use similar terms. Sanskrit has _rudhira_, red, blood. Thus blood was
the original meaning. In M. Eng., it was pronounced like reed; thus the
proper names Read, Reade, Reed, Reid, as well as Redd, are forms of it;
although at times these names came from other stems. The synonym
_scarlet_ has already been traced through Turkish and Persian sources to
Lat. _sigillatus_, from _signum_, a mark. _Vermilion_, _vermeil_, come
from Lat. _vermiculus_, a little worm, used for the cochineal-insect
which gave _crimson_ and _carmine_. These two words in turn both come
from _kermes_, the cochineal-insect, Sanskrit _krimija_, produced by an
insect, from _krimi_, worm. Our _worm_ is from the same source.
_Carnation_ is from the Lat. root meaning flesh, more originally a part,
something divided (as food). _Gules_ is akin to _gullet_; _lake_ from
Sanskrit _laksha_, the lac-insect. _Lobster-red_ is from the Lat.
_locusta_, shell-insect. _Maroon_ meant a chestnut—chestnut-colored;
_pink_, M. E. _pinken_, to prick, was a nasalized form of _pick_; the
color use came from the flower, named for its jagged edges. _Peach_ we
have traced back to “Persian apple”; _rose_ comes from an ancient root
meaning the flower, whence the color name. _Flush_ came from _flash_,
akin to Scandinavian words meaning blaze or passion; _florid_ meant
flowery; _blush_, another Scandinavian word meaning blaze, torch, etc.
Thus _red_ and its synonyms have the physical origins of (1) blood, (2)
a mark, (3) a little worm, (4) flesh or a part, (5) gullet or throat,
(6) an insect, (7) a shell insect, (8) the chestnut, (9) to prick, (10)
Persian apple, (11) the rose, (12) blaze, (13) flowery, (14) torch. From
the stem (3) alone we get vermilion, vermeil, crimson, carmine, worm,
vermin, and many others. When man wanted a name for the abstract color
akin to blood, the cochineal insect, etc., he used the words already
applied to these things.
_Yellow_, the third color, from M. E. _yelow_, _yelwe_, _zelwe_,
_yolwe_, _zelu_, etc., A. S. _geolu_, goes back to Lat. _helvus_, light
yellow; akin to Gr. _chloa_, verdure, _chloros_, yellowish-green;
Lithuanian _zalias_, green; Sanskrit _hari_, yellow. It traces back thus
to the light green of verdure. _Gold_ received its name from the same
stem. _Ochre_ meant originally pale; _aureate_, golden, came from the
Sanskrit _ushas_, dawn from _ush_, burn. Other words from this Sanskrit
root are _Auster_, the South wind; _helios_, the sun; _East_. It thus
meant “the burning thing.” _Saffron_, a product of dried _crocus_, was
named for its color. _Fallow_ meant pallid; _flavous_ is part of the
_flame_, _flagrant_ stem meaning burning, as is _fulvid_. _Lurid_ comes
from the same stem as yellow; _topaz_ was named for its brightness, from
Sanskrit _tapas_, heat. Thus the words meaning yellow split off from the
light green of growing things, or from the stems meaning to burn.
_White_, the fourth color, M. E. _hwit_, D. _wit_, Icel. _hvitr_, traces
back to Sanskrit _cveta_, white, from _cvit_, be white, or shine. From
the same stem comes _wheat_, _whittle_, etc. The _bleak_ stem we have
already traced, in its kinship through Gr. _phlegein_ to the word
meaning black. _Blanch_, to make white, comes from the same stem, as
does _bleach_; _argent_ meant originally silvery; _blond_, originally
yellow, has a lost origin.
_Green_, the fifth color, is comparatively simple in origin. To give its
full kinships, we have M. E. _grene_, A. S. _grene_, O. North, _groene_,
_groeni_, O. S. _groni_, O. Fries., _grene_, Dan. _groen_, M. L. G.
_grone_, L. G. _gron_, O. H. G. _gruoni_, M. H. G. _gruene_, Ger.
_grun_, Icel. _graenn_, Sw. Dan. _gron_; from the A. S. _growan_, to
grow, with the formative _-ni_. To the same root belong _grow_, _grass_,
_perhaps_, _gorse_.
_Blue_ goes back through the Teutonic speeches to M. Lat. _blavus_,
_blavius_, Dan. _blaa_, blue, livid; perhaps from Lat. _flavvus_,
yellow—color names being inevitably variable in their early application.
_Indigo_ gets its name by a simple transference from the East Indian
plant, and meant literally _Indian_.
Of the other colors, _brown_ goes back to Gr. _phruros_, brown, from
_phruros_, a toad; compare Lat. _rubeta_, a toad, _ruber_, reddish. It
is Sanskrit _bhru_, reddish-brown, plus the formative _-ni_. _Gray_ is a
Teutonic word meaning gray; its origin is obscure, and is not connected
with gray (with age) from _greis_, an old man, whence _grizzle_, nor
from the Gr. _graios_, old. _Orange_, formed to resemble Lat. _aurum_.
gold, had originally an initial _n-_, and came from Persian _naranj_, an
orange; compare Pers. _nar_, a pomegranate. Purple is from Lat.
_purpura_, the purple fish; Gr. _porphura_, same; apparently originally
from Gr. _phurein_, to mix or mingle. _Violet_ is named from the flower,
coming as a diminutive from the Latin; _puce_, from the Fr. word meaning
a flea; _plum_ (as also _prune_) from the Greek word meaning a plum;
_lilac_, properly the indigo plant originally, came with alternation of
initial consonant, from the Sanskrit _nila_, dark blue, indigo.
_Lavender_ was that used in washing; compare _lave_, _lavatory_.
_Amethyst_, Gr. _amethustos_, from a combination meaning a remedy for
drunkenness. Our _mead_, strong drink, comes from the same Gr. stem
_methu_, strong drink.
This, then, is a brief survey of the way our names for colors came into
the language. Comparative philology is able to ascertain with some
accuracy the order and the comparative periods at which colors were
first distinguished by man; and the results of this study are
paralleled, as Bucke points out, in a physical study of the nature of
color waves, and by a psychological study of color, color-blindness, and
the rare occurrence of color in dreams, when measured against a similar
study of human ability to recognize and differentiate other sensory
impressions. This has, too, a practical value. It is an interesting fact
that an untinted photograph to most people resembles the original more
than a tinted one. When we look at an uncolored picture, or an uncolored
moving picture, we are looking through the eyes of our ancestors of some
fifteen thousand years ago; the process is accordingly restful. If
certain colors are added, say the red for fire scenes in the movies,
this too is restful; for red was the first color split off from the
uniform gray-blackness of the original. In most dreams we are entirely
unaware of color, and yet find the dream-world entirely natural. The
practical lesson may be applied, among other things, to the proposition
for colored movies. It is quite possible that these will never be as
restful or satisfying as the uncolored ones.
_Generalization and Specialization._
Language grows in an unbelievably haphazard manner. First, of course,
came specific names; much later from these were chosen terms to describe
collective and then abstract things. Many languages today show a queer
absence of collective and abstract terms, such as we regard as
indispensable. The aboriginal Tasmanians, as Jespersen points out, had
no terms whatever for abstract things. They had names for each species
of gum-tree, wattle-tree, etc., but no class name for tree. They had no
names for general conceptions, such as hard, soft, warm, cold, long,
short, etc. The Society Islanders, in like manner, can talk of a dog’s
tail, sheep’s tail, etc., but have no general name for tail.
To the contrary, modern cultured languages pass through a period where
they glory in a great number of general terms of slightly different
meaning, many of which later on die a natural death. Thus the English
language speaks of a _flock_ of birds or sheep, a _drove_ of cattle or
swine, a _herd_ of cattle, a _bevy_ of quail, a _covey_ of partridges, a
_swarm_ of bees, a school of fish, and (in slang) a _bunch_ of men. A
similar lack of proper generalization appears in cow-_byre_,
horse-_stable_, dog-_kennel_, pig-_sty_, dove-_cote_, falcon-_mews_,
rabbit-_hutch_. The wealth of terms such as _horse_, _mare_, _filly_,
_stallion_, _foal_, _colt_; _cow_, _calf_, _heifer_, _bull_, _steer_,
_ox_; _calf_, _colt_, _lamb_, _puppy_, _fawn_, _kid_, _cub_, _shoat_,
_farrow_, _cygnet_, _duckling_, _parr_, _smolt_, for offspring, and
_cow_, _mare_, _ewe_, _doe_, _bitch_, _heifer_, _sow_, _hen_, _goose_,
_duck_, for females points to the time when animals, for breeding and
hunting, had much greater importance in man’s eyes than today. We have
_rooster_, _cock_, _cockerel_, _chantecleer_, _hen_, _pullet_,
_chicken_, _chick_, but no class name for the family; we have no class
name for the group led by Mr. Bull and Mrs. Cow. Sea-life has given rise
to a large number of unrelated words descriptive of boats, such as
_ship_, _boat_, _brig_, _sloop_, _schooner_, _wherry_, _shallop_,
_dinghy_, _punt_.
_Scene_ was originally a Greek theatrical term meaning tent; it grew
into booth (on a stage), stage, and at last into the more universal
meaning today. _Person_ was originally from Lat. _persona_, an actor in
a play, named from his mask with large mouth for the sound to pass
through, from _per-sonare_, to sound through. The impersonal _thing_
traces back to a Teutonic stem meaning assembly or council. Many of our
simplest word-elements have been generalized a long way from their
original meaning. The earliest prepositions cannot be traced with
certainty; but, among later ones, _around_ gets its second element
through Fr. from Lat. _rotundus_, derived from _rota_, wheel, whence
_rotate_; while among goes back to O. E. _ongemang_, in the crowd; the
second element being derived from the verb _gemengan_, to mingle.
The most obvious way to specialize the meaning of a word is to add a
qualifying word. For example, by the addition of _Indian_ to the word
_corn_, which meant grain in general, the name _Indian corn_ stood for
the American grain whose native name was _maize_. Similarly, _engine_,
mechanical device, was used to form _steam engine_ for a specific
device. During the last century the associated words became unnecessary;
so that _corn_ and _engine_, in America today, mean maize and the
steam-engine. Similarly _pipe_ has come to mean tobacco pipe; _poise_,
mental poise; _conceit_, self conceit; _execute_, execute a capital
sentence; _corpse_, dead corpse.
The auxiliary verbs in English are colorless survivals of once specific
action-verbs. The conjugation of _to be_ includes three distinct stems:
the _am_, _is_, _are_ element probably with an original meaning to
breathe; the _was_ and _were_ originally meaning to dwell; the _be_,
_being_, _been_ originally meaning to grow. _Do_ meant originally to put
or place; compare _don_, to put on (garments), and its opposite _doff_,
to take off. _Shall_ goes back to the earlier meaning of owe; _will_, to
wish or intend.
_Euphemism and Hyperbole._
It was once a common belief that there was a definite connection between
a thing and its name. A savage will not give his name to a stranger,
lest he thereby place himself in the stranger’s power. The name of a god
must not be mentioned, or his power will pass to the hearer; thus we do
not have the original name of the Hebrew deity derived from the Kenites
who is now the Christian god, but only a late representation of it in
the sacred tetragrammaton, or four-letter-word, _J-H-V-H_, usually
misread _Jehovah_, but more closely rendered as _Jahweh_, pronounced
Yahweh (compare pronunciation of last syllable of hallelu-_jah_). _Open
sesame_ was the Arabic phrase that opened the cave to Ali Baba. The word
_charm_, Lat. _carmen_, a song, indicated the belief in the magic
properties of words when sung; _enchantment_ (Lat. _cantus_, song)
points to the same thing.
In illustration, the dreaded bear has no name in the Balto-Slavic or
Teutonic tongue. Direct naming of the evil animal was avoided by phrases
like _the eater of honey_, _the noise maker_, _the brown_, or _the
licker_. Similarly the Lapps, Finns, and Esthonians avoided direct
reference through such substitute names as _the glory of the forest_,
_the old one_, _the hairy one_, _proud honey foot_, _big foot_. The
Irish even today never refer to the fairies, or _shee_ (compare
_banshee_); they are _the gentry_, _the good people_, _the little
people_. The devil is the _Old Gentleman_, _the Old Boy_, etc. Deities
today are preferably referred to as _the Almighty_, _the Creator_, _the
Lord_, _the Savior_, _the Redeemer_, _Our Lady_, _Madonna_, etc. The
Greeks timidly spoke of the Furies as the _Eumenides_, the gracious
goddesses. Rulers are still addressed indirectly as _your Majesty_,
_your excellency_, _your highness_. A servant is addressed by his first
name—he is already in the power of the master; but the ancient savage
taboo operates to prevent a servant’s calling his master by the first
name. Many European countries similarly distinguish even the pronouns
used in addressing servants.
Kin to this primitive superstition is the squeamishness about naming
certain parts of the body. _Leg_ is slowly replacing limb, as
Victorianism weakens; but _abdomen_, _viscera_, _expectorate_,
_perspiration_, _illness_, still replace the stouter English
equivalents. Thus _fresh_ and _soiled_ have taken the place of clean and
dirty in the language of the laundry. Stevenson’s reference to a
_pediculous malady_ successfully hides lousy disease; _couch beetle_
recently gentilified the bedbug. The derogatory _infidel_ and _atheist_
are softened to freethinker. Another example of euphemism, or “speaking
well” of a thing, is the prevailing taste for the grandiloquent. Thus
the English _public-house_ was rechristened _saloon_ in America, through
the word’s aristocratic associations; compare a ship’s _saloon_, and
_salon_. The barber uses _tonsorial art_ and _hair-dressing parlor_;
_tonsorial emporium_ is one step further on.
Hyperbole, or exaggerated speech, is responsible for many of our
linguistic eccentricities. The young lady from Nevada who said in an
interview that within the week she had “simply died from the heat,” was
“tickled to death by the movie comedians,” was “driven crazy by
telephone pests,” and was “frozen just stiff” while auto riding, is
merely typical of a general human trait. Thus we have phrases like
_volcanic applause_, a _roar of laughter_, and expanded words like
_daredevil_, _skinflint_, _numskull_, _lickspittle_, _bleacher_,
_skyscraper_. The original exaggeration in _bleacher_ is overlooked by
most minds; in _astonish_ and _stun_, literally thunder-stricken, it has
gone entirely.
Words of dignity fade in meaning, through excessive use. _Dame_ and
_madame_, from Lat. _domina_, mistress of slaves; _Mister_ and _Miss_
and _Mrs._, from Lat. _magister_, master; _Sir_, _sire_, from Lat.
_senior_, elder, were all once associated with high honor. _Gentleman_
meant a man of good family (Lat. _gens_, race.) The native English title
of honor, _lady_, has degenerated into uses like _lady friend_, _ladies
and gents_, _chorus lady_, _wash lady_. There was the colored woman who
inquired, “Who is the colored lady working for the woman across the
street?” _Yes_ and _no_ have lost much of their exaggerated force: _yes_
from A. S. _gea swa_, yes indeed; _not_ from _ne-a-wiht_, literally not
ever a bit.
Running counter to exaggeration is the spirit of understatement. Thus
the ocean is referred to as _the pond_, _the big drink_, _the puddle_.
_Money_ becomes _dough_ or _jack_ or _brass_. _Skirt_ and _frail_ and
_jane_ show similar dispraise of the skirted sex.
_Degeneration and Elevation._
The constant usage of words cheapens their meaning, as a rule. _Vulgar_,
once meaning belonging to the crowd (Lat. _vulgus_, crowd) means today
low, debased. The word-fixing aristocratic classes have as a rule
cheapened all words referring to the uneducated masses. _Heathen_,
_pagan_, once meant merely dwellers on the heath and on the field (Gr.
_pagos_, field). _Common_ and _ordinary_, taken to replace vulgar, are
started on the same downward trail. _Peasant_, _boor_, _rustic_, once
meaning merely countryman, suggest rudeness (compare _Boer_ from same
stem as _boor_). _Villain_, perhaps through association with the
unrelated _vile_, has left its meaning of countryman, villa-inhabitant,
far behind. By a contrary understatement, a cottage or “little place in
the country,” may possess 140 rooms, with two baths to each. _Wench_ was
originally a reputable name for a girl or child; _maid_ in poetry still
has nobility, in ordinary speech meaning a servant. _Knave_ (O. E.
_cnafa_, boy) has sunk lower. _Hick_, _hayseed_, _rube_, point further
to the lack of dignity of farm labor in city eyes.
_Naughty_, terribly wicked in Shakespeare’s time, “a thing of naught,”
means merely slightly bad. _Homely_, once almost a word of praise, means
downright ugly now; _plain_ is following the same course. _Mean_ has
dropped from its original meaning of middle (Lat. _medianus_) to its
present meaning. _Soon_, _anon_, _presently_, _by and by_, successively
meant immediately; _immediately_, _instantly_, and _right away_ will
probably take the same course—mute evidences of man’s innate inertia and
procrastinativeness. _Sanctimonious_, once meaning holy, has suffered
the disrepute in which the pharasaical are held. _Charity_, once meaning
love, suggests today a patronizing attitude. _Prude_, kin to _proud_ and
_prowess_, once meant high human excellence; it has ironically altered
itself wholly. _Minion_, once favorite, is much less today;
_scurrilous_, Lat. _scurra_, fine gentleman, grew after the Latin word
had been altered to mean jester, buffoon. _Dapper_, once brave or
sprightly (Germ. _tapfer_, brave) is today an adjective of contempt. The
weakness of old age has depressed the meaning of _senile_ and
_senility_; _senator_, from the same stem, has not yet been lorimered
and otherwise lowered wholly. History itself is responsible for the
contrasting fates of _frank_ and _slave_ (from the races _Frank_ and
_Slav_). _Sullen_ is a variant of _solemn_. It was once proper to speak
of the _enormity_ of the Mammoth Cave; today only _enormousness_ could
be so used, as _enormity_ means very wicked. _Very_, from Lat.
_veritas_, truth, is weakening daily. _Asylum_, from Gr. _asulos_,
inviolable, through association with orphan and insane, means a place of
confinement rather than a refuge.
At the same time earlier words, through association with the more
aristocratic things of life, have risen in connotation. _Court_ goes
back to Lat. _cohors_, inclosure or poultry-yard; _knight_, once O. E.
_cniht_, boy, has gone the other road from _knave_. _Marshal_ was once
horse-servant (O. E. _mearh_, horse, _scealc_, servant). _Steward_ was
originally sty-ward (O. E. _stigweard_), or guardian of a sty, before
_sty_ had degenerated to its present meaning. _Civil_, _civilize_, (Lat.
_civis_, citizen) and _urbane_ (Lat. _urbs_, city) have gained dignity;
although _urban_ is rather colorless. _Quaker_, _Methodist_, _Yankee_,
_Whig_, _Tory_, applied first in ridicule, today are accepted without
offense.