Nor can I help noting, in the oversight and muster from this point of view of the words which constitute a language, the manner in which its utmost resources have been taxed to express the infinite varieties, now of human suffering, now of human sin. Thus, what a fearful thing is it that any language should possess a word to express the pleasure which men feel at the calamities of others; for the existence of the word bears testimony to the existence of the thing. And yet such in more languages than one may be found.* Nor are there wanting, I suppose, in any language, words which are the mournful record of the strange wickednesses which the genius of man, so fertile in evil, has invented. What whole processes of cruelty are sometimes wrapped up in a single word! Thus I have not travelled down the first column of an Italian dictionary before I light upon the verb 'abbacinare,' meaning to deprive of sight by holding a red-hot metal basin close to the eyeballs. Travelling a little further in a Greek lexicon, I should reach åкpwτηpiášɛw, to mutilate by cutting off all the extremities, as hands, feet, not without reason that Aristotle wrote: 'It is possible to err in many ways, for evil belongs to the infinite; but to do right is possible only in one way' (Ethic. Nic. ii. 6. 14). In the Greek, émiɣapeкakía, in the German, 'schadenfreude.' Cicero so strongly feels the want of such a word, that he gives to 'malevolentia' the significance, 'voluptas ex malo alterius,' which lies not of necessity in it. [See Florio's Italian Dictionary (ed. 1688), s. v. abacináre.] nose, ears; or take our English 'to ganch.'" And our dictionaries, while they tell us much, cannot tell us all. How shamefully rich is everywhere the language of the vulgar in words. and phrases which, seldom allowed to find their way into books, yet live as a sinful oral tradition on the lips of men, for the setting forth of things unholy and impure. And of these words, as no less of those dealing with the kindred sins of revelling and excess, how many set the evil forth with an evident sympathy and approbation, and as themselves taking part with the sin against Him who has forbidden it under pain of his highest displeasure. How much ability, how much wit, yes, and how much imagination must have stood in the service of sin, before it could possess a nomenclature so rich, so varied, and often so Heaven-defying, as that which it actually owns. Then further I would bid you to note the many words which men have dragged downward with themselves, and made more or less partakers of their own fall. Having once an honourable meaning, they have yet with the deterioration and degeneration of those that used them, or of [To ganch. To punish by that cruel mode practised in Turkey, of suspending a criminal on a hook by the ribs till he dies, from It. ganciare, to hook. Cp. Sandys' Travels, p. 62: Their formes of putting to death (besides such as are common els-where) are impaling upon stakes, ganching, which is to be let fall from on high upon hookes, and there to hang untill they die by the anguish of their wounds, or more miserable famine. Nares' Glossary.] those about whom they were used, deteriorated and degenerated too. How many, harmless once, have assumed a harmful as their secondary meaning; how many worthy have acquired an unworthy. Thus 'knave' meant once no more than lad (nor does 'knabe' now in German mean more); 'villain' than peasant; a 'boor' was a farmer, a 'varlet' a serving-man, which meaning still survives in valet,' the other form of this word; * a 'menial' was one of the household; a 'paramour' was a lover, an honourable one it might be; a 'leman' in like manner was simply a lover, and might be used of either sex in a good sense; a' beldam' was a fair lady, and is used in this sense by Spenser; † a 'minion' was a favourite (man in Sylvester is 'God's dearest minion'); a 'pedant' in the Italian from which we borrowed the word, and for a while too with ourselves, was simply a teacher of young children, a tutor [see Florio's Ital. Dict. (1611), s. v. Pedante]; a 'proser' was one who wrote in prose; an 'adventurer' one who set before himself perilous, but very often noble ventures, what the Germans call a Glücksritter'; a 'swindler,' in the German ['Schwindler'] from which we got it, one who entered into dangerous mercantile speculations, without implying that this was done with any intention to defraud * Yet this itself was an immense fall for the word (see Ampère, La Langue Française, p. 219, and Littré, Dict. de la Langue Française, preface, p. xxv). † F. Q. iii. 2. 43. others. Christ, according to Bishop Hall, was the 'ringleader' of our salvation. Time-server' two hundred years ago quite as often designated one in an honourable as in a dishonourable sense 'serving the time.’* 'Conceits' had once nothing conceited in them. An officious' man was one prompt in offices of kindness, and not, as now, an uninvited meddler in things that concern him not; something indeed of the older meaning still survives in the diplomatic use of the word.T 'Demure' conveyed no hint, as it does now, of an overdoing of the outward demonstrations of modesty;† a 'leer' meant once a countenance simply, with nothing amiss in it (Piers Plowman, Glossary, s. v. lere). 'Daft' was mild, meek [see N.E.D.]; orgies' were religious ceremonies; the Blessed Virgin speaks of herself in an early poem as 'Gods wench.' In 'crafty' and 'cunning' no crooked wisdom was implied, but only knowledge and skill; craft,' indeed, still retains very often its more honourable use, a man's 'craft' being his skill, and then the trade in which he is skilled. 'Artful' was skilful, and not tricky as now.‡ Could the Magdalen have ever bequeathed us 'maudlin' in its present contemptuous applica * See in proof Fuller, Holy State, b. iii. c. 19. Not otherwise 'leichtsinnig'in German meant cheerful once; it is frivolous now; while in French a' rapporteur' is now a bringer back of malicious reports, the malicious having little by little found its way into the word. ་ tion, if the tears of penitential sorrow had been held in due honour by the world? Tinsel,' the French étincelle,' meant once anything that sparkled or glistened; thus, 'cloth of tinsel' would be cloth inwrought with silver and gold ; but the sad experience that all is not gold that giltters,' that much showing fair to the eye is worthless in reality, has caused that by 'tinsel,' literal or figurative, we ever mean now that which has no realities of sterling worth underlying the specious shows which it makes.* 'Specious' itself, let me note, meant beautiful at one time, and not, as now, presenting a deceitful appearance of beauty.* Tawdry,' an epithet applied once to lace or other finery bought at the fair of St. Awdrey or St. Etheldreda, has run through the same course : it at one time conveyed no suggestion of mean finery or shabby splendour, as now it does.* 'Voluble' was an epithet which had nothing of slight in it, but meant what 'fluent' means now; dapper' was what in German 'tapfer' is; not so much neat and spruce as brave and bold;† 'plausible' was worthy of applause ;* 'pert' is now brisk and lively, but with a very distinct subaudition, which once it had not, of sauciness as well; 'lewd' meant no more than unlearned, as the lay or common people might be supposed to be. To carp' is in *[See Select Glossary (s. v.).] † Having in mind what 'dirne,' connected with 'dienen,' 'dienst,' commonly means now in German, one |