that enkindle is used metaphorically. So, also, when Macbeth declares 'I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent.' But we feel the figure less vividly in such a phrase as fired with ambition,' and in the terms instigation and incentive we are not conscious of any metaphor whatever. Yet instigation comes from a root which means 'to goad,' and incentive means literally that which sets the tune' (from L. in and canere, to sing '); so that both these words were, in their first application to motives' or 'promptings,' quite as poetical as either enkindle or spur. The ordinary processes by which words change their meanings are, then, essentially the same as the devices of poetry; or, to express the fact more accurately, the figurative language of poetry differs from the speech of common life mainly in employing fresher figures, or in revivifying those which have lost their freshness from age and constant use. Language is fossil poetry which is constantly being worked over for the uses of speech. Our commonest words are worn-out metaphors. 6 Thus, depend is literally to hang from' (L. dependo); egregious means 'selected from the [common] herd' (L. e, from,' and grex, gregis, 'herd '); spoil means 'to strip,' i.e. to strip off the armor, etc., of a slain or defeated enemy'; front means 'forehead' (L. frons, frontis); to fret is originally to eat up,' 'to devour' (A.S. fretan, for-, away,' and etan, eat'), - compare 'gnawing anxiety'; precocious means 'too early ripe' (L. praecox, from prae-, before,' and coquo, 'to cook,' 'to ripen'); to thrill is literally to bore,' 'to pierce,' and is related to drill (the same word is seen in nostril, formerly nosethril); sullen means at first solitary' and comes (through the French) from L. solus, alone' (whence our adjective sole). Such illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely. Indeed, almost every word that we shall have occasion to study will serve as an example, for the processes that we are considering go on incessantly so long as a language is alive. We shall find that there is no device which we are accustomed to call poetical, no similitude so slight, no metaphor so strained or so commonplace, that language has not seized upon it to make new forms of expression as the needs of advancing thought required them. Even when the resultant words appear intensely prosaic, the processes that created them are identical with those of artistic poetry. This important truth may be further illustrated in the growth of words from a single root. The Indo-European family of languages (to which belong Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, English, and many other tongues) had a simple linguistic form (a 'root') PET, which signified rapid motion across the field of vision.'1 This root is clearly seen in the Latin verb peto. Since such motion is produced either by falling or by flying, words with these meanings have been formed from the root PET in various languages of our family.2 But such motion may include also the idea of 'intentional direction.' Hence other words from the same root have acquired the sense of aim,' and, by the transference from actual to figurative aim, the meanings (originally metaphorical) of seek' and 'ask.' All three senses, aim,' 1 For the nature of roots and stems see Chapter XIII. 6 seek,' and 'ask,' are found in the Latin verb peto. Thus from this one root PET, we have, by various differentiations of meaning, such words as the following: Latin penna, a means of flying,' 'a wing,' 'a feather,' whence, through the French, the English pen, originally applied to a quill used for writing, but now extended to other devices (steel pen, gold pen, stylographic pen, etc.). Greek Twσis (ptôsis), ‘a falling,' — then, figuratively, 'a case' in grammar (since the genitive, dative, and other so-called 'oblique' cases were conceived as falling away from the nominative, which was fancifully called the 'upright case '). im-petus, a force of forward movement,'-first literal, then figurative. ap-petite, a craving' (of body or mind). re-peat, 'to go back to get something,' 'to take up a thing a second time.' petition, 'a seeking,' 'a request.' com-petition, 'a seeking together,' then, especially, 'rivalry' (in modern times applied especially to commercial rivalry). petulant, butting' (as goats do), 'attacking,'-then figuratively, for 'ill-humored,' 'irritable.' Another root, PU, meant clean,' and thence came the Latin adjectives putus, 'clean,' and purus, 'clear.' From putus arose a verb puto, to clean.' In a vine-bearing country, cleaning is particularly pruning,' and from that idea, specially applied in surgery, we get amputation. In mercantile language 'to clean up accounts' (putare rationes) became a common expression for reckoning,' and finally accounts' (rationes) was dropped, and puto was used for 'reckon' in general (as in computation). From 'reckon' we pass easily to think,' 2 and this becomes the 1 These words are built up by the mechanical means of word-formations developed in the various languages. Such formative mechanics will be treated later (see Chapters XIII, XIV). 2 Compare the provincial use of I reckon for 'I think,' in both England and America. ruling sense of puto (as in the adjective putative). From the same mercantile dialect comes imputo, reckon in,' 'credit or charge to the account of,' whence we get imputation. From 'considering' or 'turning back to observe' (cf. re-gard, re-spect, both meaning originally 'to look back') we get the word reputation; and deputation is derived from another idea of consideration carried out in resolve.' Thus from a root signifying originally 'clean,' the imagination of the race, utilizing the mechanical means which the laws of derivation and composition afford, has gradually formed a group of words of the most varied meaning. Vine-dressing, surgery, mathematics, commerce, and politics are all included within this circle, and one word (reputation) is general enough to apply to all men. Finally we may establish the poetical character of language by a striking and conclusive test. Literature has been attentively studied, as literature, for hundreds and even thousands of years. Hence there has grown up among scholars a set of technical terms, the names of the so-called 'figures of speech,' — which designate what are commonly regarded as the ornaments or devices that characterize the poetical style as opposed to the speech of everyday life. Yet it is easy to see that all of these 'figures' are perfectly familiar in our ordinary talk. Metaphor, the most important of all figures, we have already considered. It occurs everywhere, and one can hardly utter a sentence without employing it. Every occupation of mankind, every subject (however remote) that engages man's attention, has furnished us with metaphorical expressions. We shall have occasion to return. to this point again and again. For the present we may 1 The particular sources of the English vocabulary will be discussed in later chapters. pass to other figures, making a selection from those comprised in the list commonly printed in works on grammar or rhetoric. Simile is involved in the great class of English adjectives that end in -ly, which is an abraded form of like.1 Thus a manly boy' is a boy who is 'like a man' in certain traits of character. So cowardly, ruffianly, saintly, homely (like home,' and so ordinary,' 'commonplace,' with a further development of meaning in America to hardfeatured,' 'plain '). Still clearer cases of simile are the more recent adjectives compounded with like: as, childlike, lionlike, birdlike, homelike, etc. 6 Metonymy is the figure by which a thing is designated, not by its own name, but by the name of something that resembles or suggests it, as in Tennyson's the bright death' for the keen fatal knife,' or Horace's Pontica pinus for ship of wood from Pontus.' This 'figure' is so common in ordinary speech that it seldom attracts our attention. Thus we say irons for 'fetters,' glasses for 'spectacles,' or 'drinking-glasses,' the knife for surgery,' canvas for sails,' style (from L. stilus, a writing implement) for manner of writing,' bilboes for shackles' (from Bilbao, in Spain, famous for its iron and steel), and so on. Many of the words thus treated are perfectly prosaic, but the process is the same as that of poetry. A man's linen or flannels are just as much metonymy as Milton's 'nodding horror' for the branches of a thick and dismal forest. 6 Synecdoche (the part for the whole, the genus for the species, or vice versa) is seen in 'sixty head' (of cattle), 'fifty sail' (of ships), a bottomry bond,' a poll tax,' a rumshop, a gin-palace, a cutthroat for a murderer,' a hangman for an executioner.' 1 See pp. 185-6 for details. |