The Wanganui Chronicle SATURDAY, JANUARY 22, 1927. THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19748, 22 January 1927, Page 6

The Wanganui Chronicle SATURDAY, JANUARY 22, 1927. THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE

English is a living language: we all pride ourselves on the fact that our tongue is ever ready to coin or to absorb new words in order to express new ideas. It is perhaps because of the receptivity and fecundity of the lanjguage that in its spoken form we are inclined to overload it with colloquial phrases. We who speak English are amazingly fond of catchwords; indeed, almost every individual is liable to be dominated by some word or phrase. Instead of endorsing a statement with a plain “yes” we must say, “That’s right.” Instead of a simple salutation wc must ask a friend, “How’s things?” We comment on every statement that is made with the utterance of a silly catch phrase, repeating it until it must bore others and should bore ourselves almost to death.

Great events such as wars always put new words into circulation. In that there is nothing to regret; verbal accretions impart increasing flexibility to speech. The tragedy is that the new word is usually initiated to the accompaniment of ceaseless and senseless repetition. It is made forcedly applicable to every conceivable situation. Epidemics of words and phrases are constantly raging among the so-called “intelligentsia.” “Intelligentsia” itself is an excellent specimen word. It. leaped into fashion with the Russian revolution; since then it has been served up with a frequency that has not. failed to nauseate. “Camouflage” is another word of the same class. During the war it was so drawn upon by speakers and writers that among the self-respecting there was an honourable agreement that for a time the use of the world should be banned. The methods of Coue, the theories of Freud, have given special impetus to the use of “psychological.” Every subjective experience is now being explained in terms of “complex” and “control.” The excessive use of nebulous terminology is one of the characteristics of modern democracy. But it is desirable to remember that the characteristic is as marked among those whose thought is lofty, whose speech is stately, as among those .whose thought is vulgar and whose speech is garnished with snippets from the latest musical comedy.

In their passion for novelty and originality Americans take unpardonable liberties with English speech. Yet they, too, suffer much from hearing high-class words and phrases reduced by lavish use to the level of the hackneyed. In a recent issue of “Scribner’s” the editor conducted a symposium on overworked words. His readers furnished him with lists of terms that they had come to regard with abhorrence because of their initial lack of beauty, or because of their being employed far’ too frequently.

One reader recorded that the writer of Foreign News in England’s foremost newspaper had used the word “opined” in ten issues, almost successive ones. “Meticulous” is a word that is breaking out like verbal measles. The civilised world is growing weary of the term “gesture”; it has become descriptive of the most trivial act any nation performs towards its neighbour. The schoolgirl’s passion for gushing speech is probably incurable, but she has by no means a monopoly of words such as “delicious,” “wonderful” and, of course, “awfully.” Even people who are serious and deal with serious things are not above over working certain words. At conferences on all manner of subjects we hear appeals for “vision,” we are told much about the beauty of “service,” we have to listen to people who claim to have a “message” to deliver. The verb “function” is in great request in some circles; there are other circles that never seem to tire of talking about “community” this, that and the other. Almost every individual becomes from time to time seized by some word or phrase. Usually quite unconsciously it is jerked out, adding monotony and fatu-, ity to human conversation. The habit in others should be sufficient to remind the intelligent, person that his or her duty is to be on constant guard against the plague of verbal obsession.