THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 208, 3 September 1927, Page 30

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

SURVIVALS OF THE PAST.

WORDS THAT HAVE MEW

NO KOSES ON ROSEWOOD.

CHAMOIS LEATHER IS A SHAM.

Britishers are a curious race with regard to the use of words. Wo continue by force of habit and custom to use a word as it was first introduced, when, as a fact, it long a«o lost its original meaning, or when, as in some cases it waa originally misapplied, and is still eo used to the present day. We speak of a country dance when we really mean a "contra dance," those who dance opposite one another; we talk about "briar pipes" as if the word had anything to do with a briar or rose plant, whereas originally it belonged to the French "bruyere." We speak of Indian ink and India paper, when the former came from China, and the latter h»«i nothing whatever to do with India at any time.

We speak of rosewood as though it had any connection with the plant on which tho rose grows, and of cedar pencils, when cedar itself is not used in their manufacture. Wo call the entrails of a sheep "cat gut," and usually speak of a particular kiud of leather as "chamois" leather, when it never b«H anything to do with the animal of that name. Wo call cockroaches "black beetles" when they are not beetles' and are not black; we speak of lobsters as fishes when they are crustaceans. There is a well-known story of a writer on natural history, who spoke of a lobster as "a little red fish that runs sidewayß," a statement that Cuvier, or was it Buffon, declared to be absolutely correct, save for three slight errors—it was not a fish, it was not red, and it did not walk siiewayß. Rice Paper Nothing to do with Rice. We talk of French beans and Frenchpolish, which have no connection with France, and of ELidderminster carpet and Brussels carpet, which never hod anything to do with the towns from which they are named. Then we refer to "camel's hair brushes," which never had anything to do with the camel, and to galvanised iron, which is never galvanised, and has no connection whatever with the process. Our sealing wax contains no wax. The silkworms, which in the old days children kept, are not wormß, but caterpillars. If when the children are ill we give them sweet spirits of nitre it contains no nitre, while we have Chinese drawings on rice paper which has nothing to do with rice, but is made of pith. We eat marmalade, which should be composed of quinces (Portuguese "marmelo," a quince), but it has no quince in it. Dutch clocks are not Dutch at all, but German (Deutsch). German measles is not a disease that belongs to the Germans, or that has any connection with Germany; its rash resembles that of ordinary rabcola, and is a sort of fictitious example of it. We also speak of German silver, which has no connection with Germany, nor does it contain apy silver, being an alloy of copper, nickel and sine. But when we talk of cousin german, we use a word that is allied to that of the word "germ," having to do with origin or stock.

A Misapplied Word. There is perhaps no word that we so completely misapply as when we term a person "an idiot." As Dr. Brewer points out, an idiot is simply an ordinary person who is not employed in any public office. It is not that he is particularly incompetent of holding such a position, but he is just ono who is neither a priest nor an official, but an ordinary citizen, and from that we got the idea that this person was incompetent, and thence the word has gradually assumed its present meaning, so that it is applied to those born lacking intelligence. In the present day some of us are disposed to reverse this ancient use, and give to the person in public offices the term 'we now misapply. The "Jew's harp," upon which the boy plays, has nothing whatever to do with the HehSßw. The word is simply derived from the French "jou," a toy. A "gooseberry fool" had nothing to do with a foolish person i it is simply "foulc," mashed, the French phrase. We speak about our ears "burning" when people are talking about us, and here we have an exceedingly ancient tradition that is still accepted. Pliny, in his history, writes:—"When our ears do tingle and glow some do talk of us in our absence." That word "talk" is one of the most extraordinary in ti.e English language, because it is the only one that, so far as Sir W. W. Skcat was aware, we derive directly from the Lithuanian tongue. He drew special attention to this remarkable survival. In the Lithuanian "tulkas" was an interpreter, "tulkote" was to interpret; and there must have been some intercourse between the Scandinavians and Lithuanians by means of an interpreter, which brought that word into Scandinavian tongues. So the word to interpret or explain is in Sweden "tolka," in Danish "tolke," in Icelandish "tulka," and hence our word "talken" originally, and now "talk." The word has nothing to do with the words "tale" or "tell," as many etymological books state, and to "tWlk" is, strictly speaking, to interpret or to explain, and a talker is an interpreter.