Humbug, Buggy And Co.

Press, Volume C, Issue 29608, 2 September 1961, Page 8

Humbug, Buggy And Co.

We have two major “bugs” in English and some subsidairies. The nasty insect’s name is supposed to be a corrupt form of Old English “budda,” a beetle, but some authorities, such as Oxford, simply say “unknown.” The other “bug,” now obsolete, was a ghost or goblin, connected in origin with “bogy,” the Scottish "bogle” and “bugaboo” which is a Welsh version. It is this bug which

gives its name to the Bug Bible. Coverdale's translation of 1535. which has this version Psalm XOI —5, “thou nede not be afrayed of any bugges by night" where the modern form has “terror by night.” Hence also apparently “bugbear,” a ghost in the form of a bear. The insect bug forms part of the puzzling “humbug,” or so it would seem; but the etymology is really unknown. The vehicle “'buggy” is another puzzle, dating in England, from 1772 and meaning a two-wheeled affair, not four-wheeled like the American. It is now almost confined to the United States language. There is a possible connection with “bogie,” a north country word for a trolly whose origin is unkown. Apparently there is no connection between any of these words and the unenviable surnames Bugg, Bugsen. and Buggins. Bugg is a highly respectable Anglo-Saxon “Bucg,” just a personal name; Buggy is probably the same word. Buggins is a good old Norse word for a building or "tigging,” its modern dialect form. The Mcßugg who became a Norfolk Howard has become a sort of proverbial character. As for "humbug,” experts generally admit defeat and say ‘‘unknown,” but it seems likely that the "bug” is the insect and Weekley suggests that “hum” is the verb, to make a humming sound, used in a special sense. Consonants “Good«a nigbt-a"—thus the Australian represents an Italian's English. What does this mean? Well, it is no credit to the Australian. English speech is notoriously

slack in respect of the con* conants.

When the poet. Milton visited Italy in the early 17th century he noticed the clarity and firmness of the Italian consonants and in his “Tractate on Education” he recommends the Italian type of enunciation as a model. Things have not changed since that time. The Englishman’s (or the Australian’s) tongue is not athletic, when two surfaces have to be pressed together, as in t or d tongue-tip and teeth, the contact is not maintained long enough to produce a clear sound, but the Italian releases the firm contact with a clear true “consonant," a “sounding toget'heir." Bad as the Englishman’s speech is in this detail, the American is worse. The average United States speaker cannot pronounce nt or nd; he speaks of his "funnamenal innerests” or “twenny winners (winters).” Let us then rather admire and approve of the Italian's consonants than try to make clumsy fun of their “innerests.” How Simple After I had photographed a great mountain landscape from a high pass in the Himalayas and had had it printed I began to think about it. If, I thought, I had stood on any other pass I should have got a similar picture and if I had been able to stand on all passes I would have got a kind of universal picture. In other words, everything visible in the world is impressing itself on everything else in every direction by means of the radiation of light and probably masses of other radiations as well which are not barred by the intervention of matter. So, busily, unceasingly, everything is up against everything else. This consideration goes some little way towards clarifying that very crylic dictum of A. N. Whitehead —that "in a sense everything is everywhere at all times ” Is there a sort of key to the universe here I wonder? If so, how lucky I was to find it. (To Be Continued.)