On the Study of Words by Richard Chenevix Trench (primary phonics txt) 📗

On the other hand, identical names for dress, for house, for door, for garden, for numbers as far as a hundred, for the primary relations of the family, as father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, for the Godhead, testify that the common stock, intellectual and moral, was not small which they severally took with them when they went their way, each to set up for itself and work out its own destinies in its own appointed region of the earth. [Footnote: See Brugmann, Grundriss der vergleichenden Grammatik der indogermanischen Sprachen (1886), Section 2.] This common stock may, indeed, have been much larger than these investigations declare; for a word, once common to all these languages, may have survived only in one; or possibly may have perished in all. Larger it may very well, but poorer it cannot, have been. [Footnote: Ozanam (Les Germains avant le Christianisme, p. 155): Dans le vocabulaire d'une langue on a tout le spectacle d'une civilisation. On y voit ce qu'un peuple sait des choses invisibles, si les notions de Dieu, de l'âme, du devoir, sont assez pures chez lui pour ne souffrir que des termes exacts. On mesure la puissance de ses institutions par le nombre et la propriété des termes qu'elles veulent pour leur service; la liturgie a ses paroles sacramentelles, la procédure a ses formules. Enfin, si ce peuple a étudié la nature, il faut voir à quel point il en a pénétré les secrets, par quelle variété d'expressions, par quels sons flatteurs ou énergiques, il a cherché à décrire les divers aspects du ciel et de la terre, à faire, pour ainsi dire, l'inventaire des richesses temporelles dont il dispose.]

This is one way in which words, by their presence or their absence, may teach us history which else we now can never know. I pass to other ways.

There are vast harvests of historic lore garnered often in single words; important facts which they at once proclaim and preserve; these too such as sometimes have survived nowhere else but in them. How much history lies in the word 'church.' I see no sufficient reason to dissent from those who derive it from the Greek [Greek: kyriakae], 'that which pertains to the Lord,' or 'the house which is the Lord's.' It is true that a difficulty meets us at the threshold here. How explain the presence of a Greek word in the vocabulary of our Teutonic forefathers? for that we do not derive it immediately from the Greek, is certain. What contact, direct or indirect, between the languages will account for this? The explanation is curious. While Angles, Saxons, and other tribes of the Teutonic stock were almost universally converted through contact with the Latin Church in the western provinces of the Roman Empire, or by its missionaries, some Goths on the Lower Danube had been brought at an earlier date to the knowledge of Christ by Greek missionaries from Constantinople; and this [Greek: kyriakae] or 'church,' did, with certain other words, pass over from the Greek to the Gothic tongue; these Goths, the first converted and the first therefore with a Christian vocabulary, lending the word in their turn to the other German tribes, to our Anglo-Saxon forefathers among the rest; and by this circuit it has come round from Constantinople to us. [Footnote: The passage most illustrative of the parentage of the word is from Walafrid Strabo (about A.D. 840): Ab ipsis autem Graecis Kyrch à Kyrios, et alia multa accepimus. Sicut domus Dei Basilica, i.e. Regia à Rege, sic etiam Kyrica, i.e. Dominica à Domino, nuncupatur. Si autem quaeritur, quâ occasione ad nos vestigia haec graecitatis advenerint, dicendum praecipuè à Gothis, qui et Getae, cùm eo tempore, quo ad fidem Christi perducti sunt, in Graecorum provinciis commorantes, nostrum, i.e. theotiscum sermonem habuerint. Cf. Rudolf von Raumer, Einwirkung des Christenthums auf die Althochdeutsche Sprache, p. 288; Niedner, Kirch. Geschichte, p. 2. [It may, however, be as well to remark that no trace of the Greek [Greek: kyriakae] occurs in the literary remains of the Gothic language which have come down to us; the Gothic Christians borrowed [Greek: ekklaesia], as the Latin and Celtic Christians did.]]

Or again, interrogate 'pagan' and 'paganism,' and you will find important history in them. You are aware that 'pagani,' derived from 'pagus,' a village, had at first no religious significance, but designated the dwellers in hamlets and villages as distinguished from the inhabitants of towns and cities. It was, indeed, often applied to all civilians as contradistinguished from the military caste; and this fact may have had a certain influence, when the idea of the faithful as soldiers of Christ was strongly realized in the minds of men. But it was mainly in the following way that it grew to be a name for those alien from the faith of Christ. The Church fixed itself first in the seats and centres of intelligence, in the towns and cities of the Roman Empire; in them its earliest triumphs were won; while, long after these had accepted the truth, heathen superstitions and idolatries lingered on in the obscure hamlets and villages; so that 'pagans' or villagers, came to be applied to all the remaining votaries of the old and decayed superstitions, although not all, but only most of them, were such. In an edict of the Emperor Valentinian, of date A.D. 368, 'pagan' first assumes this secondary meaning. 'Heathen' has run a course curiously similar. When the Christian faith first found its way into Germany, it was the wild dwellers on the heaths who were the slowest to accept it, the last probably whom it reached. One hardly expects an etymology in Piers Plowman; but this is there:

     'Hethene is to mene after heth,
      And untiled erthe.'
          B. 15, 451, Skeat's ed. (Clarendon Press).

Here, then, are two instructive notices—one, the historic fact that the Church of Christ planted itself first in the haunts of learning and intelligence; another, morally more significant, that it did not shun discussion, feared not to encounter the wit and wisdom of this world, or to expose its claims to the searching examination of educated men; but, on the contrary, had its claims first recognized by them, and in the great cities of the world won first a complete triumph over all opposing powers. [Footnote: There is a good note on 'pagan' in Gibbon's Decline and Fall, c. 21, at the end; and in Grimm's Deutsche Mythol. p. 1198; and the history of the changes in the word's use is well traced in another interest by Mill, Logic, vol. ii. p. 271.]

I quoted in my first lecture the saying of one who, magnifying the advantage to be derived from such studies as ours, did not fear to affirm that oftentimes more might be learned from the history of a word than from the history of a campaign. Thus follow some Latin word,. 'imperator' for example; as Dean Merivale has followed it in his History of the Romans, [Footnote: Vol. iii. pp. 441-452.] and you will own as much. But there is no need to look abroad. Words of our own out of number, such as 'barbarous,' 'benefice,' 'clerk,' 'common-sense,' 'romance,' 'sacrament,' 'sophist,' [Footnote: For a history of 'sophist' see Sir Alexander Grant's Ethics of Aristotle, 2nd ed. vol. i. p. 106, sqq.] would prove the truth of the assertion. Let us take 'sacrament'; its history, while it carries us far, will yet carry us by ways full of instruction; and these not the less instructive, while we restrict our inquiries to the external history of the word. We find ourselves first among the forms of Roman law. The 'sacramentum' appears there as the deposit or pledge, which in certain suits plaintiff and defendant were alike bound to make, and whereby they engaged themselves to one another; the loser of the suit forfeiting his pledge to sacred temple uses, from which fact the name 'sacramentum,' or thing consecrated, was first derived. The word, as next employed, plants us amidst the military affairs of Rome, designating the military oath by which the Roman soldiers mutually engaged themselves at the first enlisting never to desert their standards, or turn their backs upon the enemy, or abandon their general,—this employment teaching us the sacredness which the Romans attached to their military engagements, and going far to account for their victories. The word was then transferred from this military oath to any solemn oath whatsoever. These three stages 'sacramentum' had already passed through, before the Church claimed it for her own, or indeed herself existed at all. Her early writers, out of a sense of the sacredness and solemnity of the oath, transferred this name to almost any act of special solemnity or sanctity, above all to such mysteries as intended more than met eye or ear. For them the Incarnation was a 'sacrament,' the lifting up of the brazen serpent was a 'sacrament,' the giving of the manna, and many things more. It is well to be acquainted with this phase of the word's history, depriving as it does of all convincing power those passages quoted by Roman Catholic controversialists from early church-writers in proof of their seven sacraments. It is quite true that these may have called marriage a 'sacrament' and confirmation a 'sacrament,' and we may reach the Roman seven without difficulty; but then they called many things more, which even the theologians of Rome do not include in the 'sacraments' properly so called, by the same name; and this evidence, proving too much, in fact proves nothing at all. One other stage in the word's history remains; its limitation, namely, to the two 'sacraments,' properly so called, of the Christian Church. A reminiscence of the employment of 'sacrament,' an employment which still survived, to signify the plighted troth of the Roman soldier to his captain and commander, was that which had most to do with the transfer of the word to Baptism; wherein we, with more than one allusion to this oath of theirs, pledge ourselves to fight manfully under Christ's banner, and to continue his faithful soldiers and servants to our life's end; while the mysterious character of the Holy Eucharist was mainly that which earned for it this name.

We have already found history imbedded in the word 'frank'; but I must bring forward the Franks again, to account for the fact with which we are all familiar, that in the East not Frenchmen alone, but all Europeans, are so called. Why, it may be asked, should this be? This wide use of 'Frank' dates from the Crusades; Michaud, the chief French historian of these, finding evidence here that his countrymen took a decided lead, as their gallantry well fitted them to do, in these romantic enterprises of the Middle Ages; impressed themselves so strongly on the imagination of the East as the crusading nation of Europe, that their name was extended to all the warriors of Christendom. He is not here snatching for them more than the honour which is justly theirs. A very large proportion of the noblest Crusaders, from Godfrey of Bouillon to St. Lewis, as of others who did most to bring these enterprises about, as Pope Urban II., as St. Bernard, were French, and thus gave, in a way sufficiently easy to explain, an appellation to all. [Footnote: See Fuller, Holy War, b. i. c. 13.]

To the Crusades also, and to the intense hatred which they roused throughout Christendom against the Mahomedan infidels, we owe 'miscreant,' as designating one to whom the vilest principles and practices are ascribed. A 'miscreant,' at the first, meant simply a misbeliever. The name would have been applied as freely, and with as little sense of injustice, to the royal-hearted Saladin as to the vilest wretch that fought in his armies. By degrees, however, those who employed it tinged it more and more with their feeling and passion, more and more lost sight of its primary use, until they used it of any whom they regarded with feelings of abhorrence, such as those which they entertained for an infidel; just as 'Samaritan' was employed by the Jews simply as a term of reproach, and with no thought whether he on whom it was fastened was in fact one of that detested race or not; where indeed they were quite sure that he was not (John viii. 48). 'Assassin' also, an Arabic word whose story you will find no difficulty in obtaining,—you may read it in Gibbon, [Footnote: Decline and Fall, c. 64.]—connects itself with a romantic chapter in the history of the Crusades.

Various explanations of 'cardinal' have been proposed, which should account for the appropriation of this name to the parochial clergy of the city of Rome with the subordinate bishops of that diocese. This appropriation is an outgrowth, and a standing testimony, of the measureless assumptions of the Roman See. One of the favourite comparisons by which that See was wont to set out its relation of superiority to all other Churches of Christendom