On the Study of Words by Richard Chenevix Trench (great book club books .TXT) 📖

and digestive power, the assimilative energy, is at some periods almost unlimited. Nothing is too hard for them; everything turns to good with them; they will shape and mould to their own uses and habits almost any material offered to them. This, however, is in their youth; as age advances, the assimilative energy diminishes. Words are still adopted; for this process of adoption can never wholly cease; but a chemical amalgamation of the new with the old does not any longer find place; or only in some instances, and very partially even in them. The new comers lie upon the surface of the language; their sharp corners are not worn or rounded off; they remain foreign still in their aspect and outline, and, having missed their opportunity of becoming otherwise, will remain so to the end. Those who adopt, as with an inward misgiving about their own gift and power of stamping them afresh, make a conscience of keeping them in exactly the same form in which they have received them; instead of conforming them to the laws of that new community into which they are now received. Nothing will illustrate this so well as a comparison of different words of the same family, which have at different periods been introduced into our language. We shall find that those of an earlier introduction have become English through and through, while the later introduced, belonging to the same group, have been very far from undergoing the same transforming process. Thus 'bishop' [A.S. biscop], a word as old as the introduction of Christianity into England, though derived from 'episcopus,' is thoroughly English; while 'episcopal,' which has supplanted 'bishoply,' is only a Latin word in an English dress. 'Alms,' too, is thoroughly English, and English which has descended to us from far; the very shape in which we have the word, one syllable for 'eleëmosyna' of six, sufficiently testifying this; 'letters,' as Horne Tooke observes,' like soldiers, being apt to desert and drop off in a long march.' The seven-syllabled and awkward 'eleëmosynary' is of far more recent date. Or sometimes this comparison is still more striking, when it is not merely words of the same family, but the very same word which has been twice adopted, at an earlier period and a later—the earlier form will be thoroughly English, as 'palsy'; the later will be only a Greek or Latin word spelt with English letters, as 'paralysis.' 'Dropsy,' 'quinsy,' 'megrim,' 'squirrel,' 'rickets,' 'surgeon,' 'tansy,' 'dittany,' 'daffodil,' and many more words that one might name, have nothing of strangers or foreigners about them, have made themselves quite at home in English. So entirely is their physiognomy native, that it would be difficult even to suspect them to be of Greek descent, as they all are. Nor has 'kickshaws' anything about it now which would compel us at once to recognize in it the French 'quelques choses' [Footnote: 'These cooks have persuaded us their coarse fare is the best, and all other but what they dress to be mere quelques choses, made dishes of no nourishing' (Whitlock, Zootomia, p. 147).]—'French kickshose,' as with allusion to the quarter from which it came, and while the memory of that was yet fresh in men's minds, it was often called by our early writers. A very notable fact about new words, and a very signal testimony of their popular origin, of their birth from the bosom of the people, is the difficulty so often found in tracing their pedigree. When the causae vocum are sought, as they very fitly are, and out of much better than mere curiosity, for the causae rerum are very often wrapt up in them, those continually elude our research. Nor does it fare thus merely with words to which attention was called, and interest about their etymology awakened, only after they had been long in popular use—for that such should often give scope to idle guesses, should altogether refuse to give up their secret, is nothing strange—but words will not seldom perplex and baffle the inquirer even where an investigation of their origin has been undertaken almost as soon as they have come into existence. Their rise is mysterious; like almost all acts of becoming, it veils itself in deepest obscurity. They emerge, they are in everybody's mouth; but when it is inquired from whence they are, nobody can tell. They are but of yesterday, and yet with inexplicable rapidity they have already lost all traces of the precise circumstances under which they were born.

The rapidity with which this comes to pass is nowhere more striking than in the names of political or religious parties, and above all in names of slight or of contempt. Thus Baxter tells us that when he wrote there already existed two explanations of 'Roundhead,' [Footnote: Narrative of my Life and Times, p. 34; 'The original of which name is not certainly known. Some say it was because the Puritans then commonly wore short hair, and the King's party long hair; some say, it was because the Queen at Stafford's trial asked who that round-headed man was, meaning Mr. Pym, because he spake so strongly.'] a word not nearly so old as himself. How much has been written about the origin of the German 'ketzer' (= our 'heretic'), though there can scarcely be a doubt that the Cathari make their presence felt in this word. [Footnote: See on this word Kluge's Etym. Dict.] Hardly less has been disputed about the French 'cagot.' [Footnote: The word meant in old times 'a leper'; see Cotgrave's Dictionary, also Athenceum, No. 2726.] Is 'Lollard,' or 'Loller' as we read it in Chaucer, from 'lollen,' to chaunt? that is, does it mean the chaunting or canting people? or had the Lollards their title from a principal person among them of this name, who suffered at the stake?—to say nothing of 'lolium,' found by some in the name, these men being as tares among the wholesome wheat. [Footnote: Hahn, Ketzer im Mittelalter vol. ii. p. 534.] The origin of 'Huguenot' as applied to the French Protestants, was already a matter of doubt and discussion in the lifetime of those who first bore it. A distinguished German scholar has lately enumerated fifteen explanations which have been offered of the word. [Footnote: Mahn, Etymol. Untersuch. p. 92. Littré, who has found the word in use as a Christian name two centuries before the Reformation, has no doubt that here is the explanation of it. At any rate there is here what explodes a large number of the proposed explanations, as for instance that Huguenot is another and popular shape of 'Eidgenossen.'] [How did the lay sisters in the Low Countries, the 'Beguines' get their name? Many derivations have been suggested, but the most probable account is that given in Ducange, that the appellative was derived from 'le Bègue' the Stammerer, the nickname of Lambert, a priest of Liège in the twelfth century, the founder of the order. (See the document quoted in Ducange, and the 'New English Dictionary' (s. v.).)] Were the 'Waldenses' so called from one Waldus, to whom these 'Poor Men of Lyons' as they were at first called, owed their origin? [Footnote: [It is not doubted now that the Waldenses got their name from Peter Waldez or Valdo, a native of Lyons in the twelfth century. Waldez was a rich merchant who sold his goods and devoted his wealth to furthering translations of the Bible, and to the support of a set of poor preachers. For an interesting account of the Waldenses see in the Guardian, Aug. 18, 1886, a learned review by W. A. B. C. of Histoire Littéraire des Vaudois, par E. Montet.]] As little can any one tell us with any certainty why the 'Paulicians' and the 'Paterines' were severally named as they are; or, to go much further back, why the 'Essenes' were so called. [Footnote: Lightfoot, On the Colossians, p. 114 sqq.] From whence had Johannes Scotus, who anticipated so much of the profoundest thinking of later times, his title of 'Erigena,' and did that title mean Irish-born, or what? [Footnote: [There is no doubt whatever that Erigena in this case means 'Irish-born.']] 'Prester John' was a name given in the Middle Ages to a priest-king, real or imaginary, of wide dominion in Central Asia. But whether there was ever actually such a person, and what was intended by his name, is all involved in the deepest obscurity. How perplexing are many of the Church's most familiar terms, and terms the oftenest in the mouth of her children; thus her 'Ember' days; her 'Collects'; [Footnote: Freeman, Principles of Divine Service, vol. i. p. 145.] her 'Breviary'; her 'Whitsunday'; [Footnote: See Skeat, s. v.] the derivation of 'Mass' itself not being lifted above all question. [Footnote: Two at least of the ecclesiastical terms above mentioned are no longer perplexing, and are quite lifted above dispute: ember in 'Ember Days' represents Anglo-Saxon ymb-ryne, literally 'a running round, circuit, revolution, anniversary'; see Skeat (s. v.); and Whitsunday means simply 'White Sunday,' Anglo-Saxon hwita Sunnan-daeg.] As little can any one inform us why the Roman military standard on which Constantine inscribed the symbols of the Christian faith should have been called 'Labarum.' And yet the inquiry began early. A father of the Greek Church, almost a contemporary of Constantine, can do no better than suggest that 'labarum' is equivalent to 'laborum,' and that it was so called because in that victorious standard was the end of labour and toil (finis laborum)! [Footnote: Mahn, Elym. Untersuch. p. 65; cf. Kurtz, Kirchen-geschichte, 3rd edit. p. 115.] The 'ciborium' of the early Church is an equal perplexity; [Footnote: The word is first met in Chrysostom, who calls the silver models of the temple at Ephesus (Acts xix, 24) [Greek: mikra kiboria]. [A primary meaning of the Greek [Greek: kiborion] was the cup-like seed-vessel of the Egyptian water- lily, see Dict. of Christian Antiquities, p. 65.]] and 'chapel' (capella) not less. All later investigations have failed effectually to dissipate the mystery of the 'Sangraal.' So too, after all that has been written upon it, the true etymology of 'mosaic' remains a question still.

And not in Church matters only, but everywhere, we meet with the same oblivion resting on the origin of words. The Romans, one might beforehand have assumed, must have known very well why they called themselves 'Quirites,' but it is manifest that this knowledge was not theirs. Why they were addressed as Patres Conscripti is a matter unsettled still. They could have given, one would think, an explanation of their naming an outlying conquered region a 'province.' Unfortunately they offer half a dozen explanations, among which we may make our choice. 'German' and 'Germany' were names comparatively recent when Tacitus wrote; but he owns that he has nothing trustworthy to say of their history; [Footnote: Germania, 2.] later inquirers have not mended the matter, [Footnote: Pott, Etymol. Forsch. vol. ii. pt. 2, pp. 860-872.]

The derivation of words which are the very key to the understanding of the Middle Ages, is often itself wrapt in obscurity. On 'fief' and 'feudal' how much has been disputed. [Footnote: Stubbs, Constitutional History of England, vol. i. p. 251.] 'Morganatic' marriages are recognized by the public law of Germany, but why called 'morganatic' is unsettled still. [Footnote: [There is no mystery about this word; see a good account of the term in Skeat's Diet. (s. v.).]] Gypsies in German are 'zigeuner'; but when this is resolved into 'zichgauner,' or roaming thieves, the explanation has about as much scientific value as the not less ingenious explanation of 'Saturnus' as satur annis, [Footnote: Cicero, Nat. Deor. ii. 25.] of 'severitas' as saeva veritas (Augustine); of 'cadaver' as composed of the first syllables of _ca_ro _da_ta, _ver_mibus. [Footnote: Dwight, Modern Philology, lst series, p. 288.] Littré has evidently little confidence in the explanation commonly offered of the 'Salic' law, namely, that it was the law which prevailed on the banks of the Saal. [Footnote: For a full and learned treatment of the various derivations of 'Mephistopheles' which have been proposed, and for the first appearance of the name in books, see Ward's Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, p. 117.]

And the modern world has unsolved riddles innumerable of like kind. Why was 'Canada' so named? And whence is 'Yankee' a title little more than a century old? having made its first appearance in a book printed at Boston, U.S., 1765. Is 'Hottentot' an African word, or, more probably, a Dutch or Low Frisian; and which, if any, of the current explanations of it should be accepted? [Footnote: See Transactions of the Philological Society, 1866, pp. 6-25.] Shall we allow Humboldt's derivation of 'cannibal,' and find 'Carib' in it? [Footnote: See Skeat, s. v.] Whence did the 'Chouans,' the insurgent royalists of Brittany, obtain their title? When did California obtain its name, and why? Questions such as these, to which we can give no answer or a very doubtful one, might be multiplied without end. Littré somewhere in his great Dictionary expresses the misgiving with which what he