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Document number: 6078
Date: 01 Jan 1848
Dating: date published
Recipient: JERDAN William
Author: TALBOT William Henry Fox
Collection: PUBLISHED
Last updated: 27th September 2010

[The original has not been located. John Wilson Croker wrote an extremely negative review of WHFT's English Etymologies (London: J. Murray, 1847), in Quarterly Review, v. 81, September 1847, pp. 500–525. This is WHFT's rebuttal, which he was encouraged to write by William Jerdan, the Editor - see Doc. No: 02258. see Doc. No: 06078. John Wilson Croker (1780-1857), Irish-born, was a Tory MP from 1807 to 1832 and Secretary of the Admiralty from 1810 to 1830. As an author, he was noted for his virulent reviews in The Quarterly Review as much as for his 1831 edition of Boswell's Live of Johnson.]

Dear Sir, -

If you will read the last Quarterly Review you will perceive that I am almost or altogether annihilated. I am to be looked upon in future as a "lost man" - or (as an American would phrase it) a "gone 'coon." All the thunders of criticism have descended upon my devoted head.

The cause of this unusual hubbub is a small volume which I lately published upon English Etymologies - a subject in itself not very likely to interest the public, and certainly not intended or expected to receive much notice from the review of the day.

This little work, however, which was pursuing the noiseless tenor of its way towards that sure and quiet asylum, the Library shelf, happened to fall into the hands of a distinguished Reviewer - a man of a large and liberal mind - who was greatly struck with the work. That is to say, he was greatly struck with its entire nullity, and with the extraordinary fact (which he quickly perceived, and ascertained beyond a doubt), that out of some thousand remarks which it contains, not one was either correct or new. He also soon observed that the work was a perfect chaos, and that in that respect it formed a striking contrast with the extreme clearness of his own views respecting the science of Etymology, which the ignorance everywhere displayed by the author was such as to surpass and fairly throw into the shade any previous example of the kind.

To undeceive the public, who foolishly imagined that there was something in the book, was the object of the Reviewer in writing this review - which will remain a monument for ever of his genius and his knowledge, his candour and his charity.

I wish to make a few observations on this remarkable intellectual effort, which does so much honor to the 19th century, and to the great Review in which it has found a place.

It is the commonest thing in the world for men of literary tastes who have not time enough for the composition of extensive and regular works, to contribute brief memoirs or detached notices to academical transactions, or to the pages of some literary journal. I should have pursued the same course myself, if it were not that the notes and remarks which I had collected on the English language were much too numerous to be offered to one of our Literary Societies. I therefore had them printed in a separate volume. How humble the pretensions of this volume were, appears from the preface to the work itself. I there say what it was intended to be - "It is intended as a small contribution towards the history of the English language. * * *

"In order to build a durable edifice upon a firm foundation, materials must be carefully brought together from all quarters, and submitted to the impartial and intelligent judgment of those who are engaged in similar enquiries."

But even if I had not said so in the most explicit terms, yet one would have thought that no person of the smallest intelligence could have failed to perceive that the book was simply a collection of materials for the use of philologers. How many such miscellaneous works have issued from the press under the titles of Collectanea, Adversaria, &c., &c., I need not say, nor dwell on the utility of such collections. They are to literature what the brick-field and the timber-yard and the stone-quarry are to architecture - mere repositories of the raw material, out of which abler hands will some day or other construct an Edifice.

Such, then, being the nature and object of my little work, the greater part of the Reviewer's objections will fall at once to the ground in the estimation of every candid reader. It suited, however, the Reviewer's purpose to misrepresent the nature of my work, in order that he might say it was a complete failure - possessing neither visible plan nor intelligible result. The answer being simply this: that "a plan" and "results" are not to be looked for in a book which is merely a miscellaneous heap of conjectural criticisms. It is sufficient surely, and the purpose of the author is accomplished, if the individual remarks which the book contains (or, I should rather say, a fair proportion of them), possess utility and novelty, and if among them can be found materials that will prove of service to the future architect.

I will now examine some of the statements in the review. But first let me observe, in passing, that this kind of review which consists entirely of invective and ridicule, and from which nothing can be learned - is peculiar to England. The Continental Reviews never adopt it, but almost always write with courtesy on literary subjects. The sort of thing was not uncommon in England during the last generation, but the increase of good taste and gentlemanly feeling has gradually banished it from the present.

The Reviewer commences by some observations which enable us to make a pretty fair estimate of his capabilities for the task he has undertaken. He does not disguise that he feels a contempt for the science of Etymology altogether. He even excuses the absurdities of which many etymologists have been guilty, by the very nature of their subject, which, he says, inevitably led them into such extravagancies and follies. He then gives us his opinion of the labours of the German philologers. Let us listen with attention! The German philologers, according to him, after all the trouble they have taken, and the many volumes they have written about etymology and philology, and the comparison of languages, seem to have discovered very little indeed that is of any value (!) Their theories " seem to lead to no practical conclusion: nay, to leave the origin of nations and their dialects in greater perplexity, if possible, than they were before." (p.501).

Indeed! A promising beginning! This Reviewer can be no ordinary man!

He next gives us a joke (which once was new) about a Cucumber - how the name of "Jeremiah King" can be derived from that useful vegetable. And he says that he will undertake to derive Whig from Tory, and black from white, by a mere permutation of letters, and without using any licence beyond that which is generally taken by etymologists. Well, but (one is tempted to ask) if such is his opinion of the futility of this science, why write at all about a subject which he contemns and despises? A tirade against philology in general, or against etymology in particular, is rather late at this time of day; and surely a Reviewer can only lose credit by asserting (what no one will believe) that the industry and acuteness of the German scholars have been employed for so many years on the comparison of languages without producing any results which can be considered of much importance. Intending to depreciate them and the science they cultivate, he unintentionally gives us his own intellectual measure.

I now pass on to some specific objections which he produces against my work. Many of these are so futile that they only require to be stated. For instance, the first charge is, that the articles of my work are not arranged in alphabetical order, which he considers to be disrespectful to the Public.

The next is this: that it is evident I wrote the different articles originally on separate slips of paper, by collecting which together I have made up a book!! (You see, the Reviewer has found me out!)

To pass to the next charge (for I plead guilty to the separate sheets of paper, however disrespectful such a system may have been); his next accusation is, that I have frequently given two different etymologies of the same word - and actually, in one instance, four different ones - which shows, as he thinks, an extraordinary weakness and vacillation of judgment. But, is he then so unacquainted with the writings of other etymologists, as not to know that seven or eight different derivations are often brought forward by them in cases of difficulty, with the object of setting before the reader the whole of the materials which their diligence has been able to discover? Thus, Valpy gives eight different etymologies of the verb adulari, and without indicating his own preference, leaves the reader to choose between them. So far from blaming him for this, all reasonable persons will thank him for his industry.*

Another charge is, that I derive from the same root words of very different meaning. Thus I say that extant and existent are etymologically very closely connected, and may have been originally the same word - which the Reviewer says is false, since they mean very different things, and that I ought to have known it (p.517). Here it is difficult for me to argue with the Reviewer, because he has not yet passed the threshold of the science, else he would have known that it occurs forever, not only that cognate words come to be used in senses materially different, but that even the same word has often split into two different forms, which have diverged considerably in their meaning: so that the fact of there being now such a difference of meaning between two terms, is by no means conclusive against their having been formerly the same word. For instance, if I say that Major and Mayor were originally the same word, ought I to be taxed with having given an erroneous etymology because at the present time the martial bearing of the gallant Major differs so considerably from the peaceful rotundity of the worshipful the Mayor?

The Reviewer next brings forward a tremendous charge, with the intention of at once demolishing me! It seems that I know next to nothing of the Greek language - hardly anything beyond the alphabet (p. 508).

This is indeed a most unfortunate deficiency. The University of Cambridge should have looked to it, when they adjudged to me the Porson prize.

His next accusation is, that I know nothing of a multitude of other languages, which every philologer ought to know who undertakes to comment upon "English Etymology."

But here let me pause a moment, to make a reflection and to ask a question. A man who so freely imputes ignorance to others, ought himself to know something - ought he not? Well then, I fear much, that if tried by this test, the Reviewer will be found wanting. His learning, however, such as it is, is fully on a par with his fairness and honesty. And, first, let us give a specimen of the latter qualities - which, if it does not make the Reviewers of the present day blush for their brother, I shall be very much mistaken.

At page 368 of my work I have made some remarks on the word Syncope, in the medical sense of a "fainting fit." The Reviewer assails these remarks (as usual) with a torrent of vituperation, in the course of which he says that I appear never to have heard of the Greek verb, συγκοπτειν. Now, please to turn to my work, and you will find that, after observing that συγκοπη is "a genuine Greek word," and that it is derived from συν and κοπη (from κοπτειν to strike), I give the following account of the verb συγκοπτειν itself (p. 368): "In order to shew, &c., I will annex the meaning which the verb συγκοπτειν seems to have in good writers, according to Passow and other lexicographers: - 1, to cut short; 2, to knock to pieces, as a storm does the works of men; 3, to shake violently, as a rough-trotting horse does his rider; 4, to fatigue greatly; 5, to ill-use or plague a person; 6, to cut up; 7, to wound."

Now I ask the candid reader, whether this was not a full and ample, a clear and distinct account of a single Greek word? I have examined and set down seven different senses of it; and, nevertheless, the Reviewer says that I appear to be quite ignorant of the existence of such a word!!!

Would that this writer, and such as he, who deem it a mere venial offence, or perhaps none at all, to garbel, distort, and calumniate, would meditate for a moment on the sacred words, "Thou shalt not bear false witness."

Look now at this Reviewer! He quotes the very identical page; he sees that I have given the correct explanation which I ought to have given, and yet he deliberately asserts that it is not there! Was it worth while, for the sake of gaining so paltry a temporary triumph, to disgrace the pages of an excellent Review with a statement so entirely at variance with the fact?

But let me proceed to some other charges of error which he brings against my work.

In page 402 I have stated that the name of Romeo signifies in Italian a pilgrim. The Reviewer denies it. Well then, I have no means to meeting his denial except by inviting him to open the dictionary. No matter what dictionary - Alberti's for instance. There you have it! " Romeo, a pilgrim."

Great, indeed, must be this Reviewer's knowledge of Italian! It is probably that in looking for this word in his dictionary, he missed the page and thus fell into this egregious blunder. But suppose this had not happened, and that he had found the page and the word. Why, then, in all human probability he would have attacked me with equal asperity, but in quite different words, for having introduced into my work an etymology so perfectly well known to everybody.

So much for his knowledge of Italian. Let us proceed to his knowledge of Latin, which is equally great. The following is a remark he makes upon my derivation of Era (an epoch in Chronology). "Does Mr. T. not know that Æra is a classical Latin word?" The Reviewer of course means to say that Æra, in a sense similar to Era in English, is a classical Latin word. I deny the fact, and the authority of this new Latin critic. As well might he derive a hundred from the Latin hundredum, on the authority of some old law book or other in which that word occurs. He adds that my not knowing Æra, in the sense of an epoch of time, to be a good Latin word is " prodigious." That is the expression he uses. Nothing, however, is prodigious here, but the Reviewer's own ignorance of Latin, and the rashness with which he advances an assertion which can be so easily refuted. The first person who uses the word Æra in any way is a writer of late date and no authority, Rufus Festus. But his evidence (such as it is) is nothing to the purpose, since he does not use the word in the sense of an "epoch," or with any relation whatever to Chronology. The first writer who employs the word in the modern sense of an "epoch" is St. Isidore, Bishop of Seville. But he, so far from being a writer of a good period, flourished in the seventh century, an age of the profoundest ignorance and barbarism. At that time the Roman world had long been a prey to Goths and Vandals, and the Latin language had received a large infusion of barbaric words, of which this was undoubtedly one. And, moreover, I will say that whoever will attentively consider the way in which Isidore uses the word Æra, will feel convinced that it is nothing but a variation of the same Teutonic and Gothic root which has become " Year" in English. It is in his Annals of the Goths that Isidore chiefly uses it, so that it is very probably a Gothic word belonging to the dialect then spoken in Spain. Hence I infer that Thomson is quite right in his etymology, and that the word is a mere variation of year, although a very ancient one.

Let us now turn to the Reviewer's knowledge of Saxon and German. I have said that the Anglo-Saxon botlwerd (by contraction botlerd) signifies a butler, and is derived from botl a house, exactly as œconomus and majordomo from οικος and domus. The Reviewer disposes of this etymology at once, by a clever allusion to this bottle-conjurer! Brilliant wit!! and keen as well as brilliant!! but he is no conjurer himself, as I will soon show. Open Bosworth's Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, and forthwith you find as follows: " Botl, a house, a dwelling. 'Eode into his botle,' he went into his dwelling. Botlwerd, a house-steward." There you have our word, except that it is translated house-steward and not butler.

Again, he does not understand that the Anglo-Saxon peneg and the German pfennig are the same word, and therefore he greatly blames me for having derived penny from both of those words, which he considers to be a contradiction and inconsistency (p.515).

With the German language he appears to be very little acquainted, if we may infer that fact from his review containing scarcely any German criticisms, although my book furnished abundant opportunity. The few German and Saxon words which occur in his pages, are for the most part so mis-spelt as to be scarcely intelligible. Here are some of them for the benefit of German scholars - farh, erd-berry (pretended German words), tuikan, twhkian - these last appear to me to be specimens of the Guebre or Gibberish dialect, but of course I may be mistaken.

But, perhaps, although inexperienced in these matters, he may know something more of the French language. Let us see - I have stated incidentally in my book, that in French Commère is a godmother. The Reviewer denies it emphatically, and grounds upon this one of the strongest charges of ignorance which he brings against me. But, alas! he has little acquaintance with the speech of our neighbours across the channel. Does he never open a French dictionary? Let him consult the Dictionnaire de l'Académie, and he will find " Commère: celle qui a tenu un enfant sur les fonts" - she who has held a child over the baptismal font: while old Cotgrave, whose Dictionary bears the date 1611, gives us more briefly " Commère, a godmother." And so in Spanish Comadre, a godmother.

And so much for the Reviewer's knowledge of languages. Let me now observe that he has, also, a method of quotation which is peculiar to himself and not ill-adapted (it must be confessed) for this purpose. When he disapproves of an article in my work, he omits all mention of the proofs which I have given. The assertion being thus left unsupported, falls to the ground, and the Reviewer raises a loud laugh of derision and triumph.

The "interest of money" is a phrase whose origin I have considered at page 74. I have shewn that, in three different languages, it bears the meaning of fruit, increase, or offspring: inferring that the English word may have had originally a similar meaning. The Reviewer omits this chain of proofs from the three different languages (Anglo-Saxon, Greek, and German); and having thus reduced the evidence to my simple assertion, dismisses it as ridiculous. Again, in his review of my article " Apoplexy," the Reviewer omits entirely the testimony of Macrobius, namely, that persons who perished by apoplexy or sudden death were said by the Greeks to be "Apollo-struck;" upon which testimony my argument mainly reposes, insomuch that I thought it necessary to repeat it twice. My chief evidence being thus struck out, my case becomes a feeble one; and the Reviewer shews that my notion of this word having originally signified " Apollo-struck" is an unparalleled instance of fatuity. Yet this Reviewer has affirmed (and, of course, most of his readers believe accordingly) that he has always taken care to preserve my meaning unimpaired!!

Here is another instance of the Reviewer's singular unfairness. Dr. Johnson has given a rather strange derivation of the verb "to roam," viz., that it took its origin "from the pretences of vagrants, who always said they were going to Rome." I have mentioned this derivation, and left it to the judgment of the reader, quoting, however, the authority of Dr. Johnson in his own words, as they stand in his Dictionary. Now, what does this fair and candid Reviewer do? He omits the reference to Johnson, and then produces the above etymology as a proof of my incredible folly!!!

The next instance of his unfairness is such, that it can only be characterised as a very wretched misrepresentation. But it shews that he must have been reduced to his last shifts, in collecting charges against my work, before he could possibly have descended so low as this.

Not being able to find in my book a sufficient number of errors, real or pretended, to produce the effect which he designed, what does he do, but set down as errors of mine all the etymologies, however accurate, or even self-evidently true, which have been mentioned before me by any previous author!!! Now, in the preface to my work, I have stated that I have occasionally introduced well-known etymologies, for the purpose of illustrating either a preceding or a succeeding article. And that I have sometimes, but no often, done so, without having any such reason. Now, the Reviewer, wholly disregarding this statement, has chosen to affirm that all the etymologies contained in my book are brought forward by me as new, and as the fruits of my own researches. He has therefore collected together with painful industry a huge and gigantic list of Errors; and to make it more conspicuous, he has actually printed it in a tabular form, and it makes indeed a formidable show.

Are all the articles contained in this Table of Errors then really erroneous? By no means. The Reviewer himself does not even pretend it. One the contrary, he admits that most of them are quite correct; but he says that they are not new. Strange indeed would it be if they were new! Blind indeed must have been the former race of etymologists if they had not known the origin of such words as the following: Pain, from the French, peine. Issue, from the French, issu. Lard, from laridum. Grotto, from the Italian, grotta. Javelin, from the Spanish, javelina. Nether, from the German, nieder. Oven, from the German ofen. Russet, from the Latin, russeus. Vixen, a female fox, from fox. Melon, from the Greek, melon. Styptic, from the Greek styptikos!!!

I must here pause a moment; for I think the reader will hardly believe that I am citing the review correctly. Yet it is so. The Reviewer affirms that I have brought forward as a novelty the derivation of styptic, from the Greek, styptikos; and he proceeds to strip the daw of his borrowed plumes, by shewing that both Lemon and Johnson have long ago given this etymology in their respective works!!! And it is of stuff like this, puerilities like these, that the Reviewer has framed his article. And the editor has deemed it worthy of insertion in the pages of a Review which was formerly graced by the talents and adorned by the genius of an Elmsley and a Young!

The paltriness of the criticisms, compared with the violence with which they are launched at my head, offers a singular and somewhat ludicrous contrast. For example, I have stated that the old French word raunceon is contracted from re-emption, for which we generally say redemption, inserting the letter D for the sake of euphony (p. 41).

The Reviewer attacks this article, and blames me for it in no measured terms. Now, I will ask the ingenious reader to guess where they fault lies concealed? In what way does this article distinctly shew my ignorance and incapacity? I would give him three guesses, first premising that the Reviewer does not dispute the derivation of raunceon from re-emption, but that a great error has been found in another quarter. Do you give it up, O gentle reader? Then listen! My error consists in having said " Re-emption, for which we say redemption, inserting the letter D for the sake of euphony." What, then, is not that true? By no means, says the Reviewer. For it is not we who say redemption, and who have inserted the letter D for the sake of euphony; it is the Latins themselves who have done this! "Has Mr. T. never heard of the verb redimere?" he exclaims sarcastically, Ah, indeed! this is a depth of learning I was not prepared for.

Here is another shot he fires at me, discharged from a piece of equal calibre.

I have said that Devil is a "remarkably important and very difficult word. Formerly it was believed to come from the Greek διαβαλλειν to calumniate, but since sounder principles of etymology have prevailed, this opinion has been pretty generally abandoned. It has been felt indeed, that the notion of calumny is much too feeble and insufficient to be the origin of the name." I then make some researches into the real origin of the word (to which I might have added that the Devil is called Div in Persian, being a pretty close coincidence). After reading this article the Reviewer rebukes me for my folly, and then gravely informs me, that Devil is derived from the Greek word Diabolos, and that if I would only open the Greek Testament - which he recommends me by all means to do - I should find it to be as he states! The egregious simpleton!

Let me pass on to another charge. I have said that the science of Perspective is called in Italian prospettiva, derived from prospetto, a prospect or view. The Reviewer denies it. Again I say, let him open the dictionary! In the dictionary of old Florio of the year 1611, we find: " Prospettiva: that part of the Optikes which teacheth," &c., &c. " Prospettivo: a professor of the perspectives." And the same is found in the modern dictionaries with the addition of " Prospettivista: a perspective painter." The Reviewer then intimates that I know nothing of the science of Perspective - that I do not even understand what it is, &c., &c., all which is nothing to the purpose.

The word Basket I have affirmed to be a genuine relic of the old British language, relying on the express testimony of Martial: "Barbara de pictis veni bascauda Britannis."

The Reviewer, however, considers it to be a ridiculous thing to make quotations from Martial in a work professing to treat of the English language (p. 513).

The Reviewer constantly misses the point of the article which he criticises, and misunderstanding it, attacks and overthrows something else which was never said, or dreamt of, by the author. This is an easy way of obtaining victories - as many as may be wished for. Thus, for instance, I have remarked (p. 246), that the English say " a fair wind," and the Germans, nearly in the same sense, say "ein fahrwind." - The meaning corresponds and the sound is nearly alike - and yet the German fahr has no connexion at all with English adjective fair. It is probable that the Germans have at some time or other adopted our English phrase, misunderstanding, however, the first syllable of it. But at any rate the remark appears not unworthy of a place in a miscellaneous work of this nature. Now, the Reviewer, probably not understanding German, misses altogether the point of the remark, and as usual raises a loud horse laugh, as he supposes that I have failed to perceive that "a fair wind" means that " the wind is fair." I ought almost to ask pardon for making any answer to such a trifler. The objections indeed seem to be the objections of a schoolboy, but as they are printed in one of the principal Reviews of Europe, I have briefly answered them.

Take another example. At p. 412, I have examined the derivation of the word Bran, which, though not difficult, has escaped Dr. Johnson and others. Thomson in his Etymons derives it erroneously from the verb to bray or grind, while Lemon gives us the choice of two derivations - either from πιτυρον or from Βρασμα which last word, however, means something else). In short, the etymology was altogether uncertain. Now I have found that brown-bread was called bran-bread ( panis furfuraceus), in the middle ages, whence it appears probable that the bran meant the brown part of the ground corn, following herein the analogy of the Latin furfur (bran), from furvus (brown). This etymology of mine, without attaching any particular importance to it, seems correct and therefore deserving of mention in my book. Now the Reviewer fails altogether to understand even so plain a statement as this. He supposes me to be asking why brown-bread is called by that name? And he informs me that is it so called because in fact it is brown; and he wants to know why I am not contented with the plain and ordinary meaning of things, but must needs go hunting after fantastical refinements? Alas! I fear that he is past all human aid! He certainly belongs to the third class of mankind, and not to either of the first two classes. The third class, according to Bacon's classification, are they who do not understand a thing even when it is explained to them.

If I quote an etymology from a former writer, and the Reviewer thinks him wrong, he always lays the blame on me, and not at all on him. I mentioned an instance just now, where I have to bear all the censure which is due to Dr. Johnson's derivation of the verb "to roam." Here now is another instance! Thomson says that those familiar appellations, John and Jack, originally only meant "young man" - and to this remark he adds, "Bob and Peggy (i.e. boy and girl) had originally no affinity with Robert and Margaret." This appears ridiculous to the Reviewer. Then let him blame the author who first promulgated it, and who is generally considered one of the acutest of our English etymologists. But let him not blame me for quoting his opinion.

But if the Reviewer is asked for what reason he thinks Thomson's remark to be so absurd .......behold his reason. " If so," he says, "why are not all girls called Peggy, if that name meant only a girl?" The best answer is to adduce a few other examples of a word of general meaning which has become particularized in our modern use of it. For instance, suppose I were to say that Noel meant originally "one born on Christmas day" - the Critic would smartly rejoin, "Why, then, are not all children who are born on Christmas day, called Noel?"

Author. - " Deacon meant originally nothing more than a servant."

Critic. - "Why, then, are not all servants called deacons?"

Author. - " Baron is only the Norman French for a husband or man."

Critic. - "Why, then, are not all husbands and men called Barons?"

I hope the Critic will now see that his argument is naught.

The beautiful bird called the Hoopoe, which bears a crest of feathers on its head, I have derived from "the old northern word, Hupe, a crest or tuft of feathers." (p. 299). Our Critic rejects the etymology, and then adds "where is this old northern word found?" A very reasonable question, which is thus answered. Open the dictionary and there you will find " Hupe, a little tuft on a cap; also, the crest on the head of a bird." - Cotgrave's Dictionary, a.d. 1611.

" Javelin, from the Spanish Javalina, a boar-spear." For giving this etymology the Reviewer blames me, saying "it was perfectly well known." So I should imagine. But then, he omits the principal point (for which reason alone I inserted the article), namely, the derivation of the Spanish word Javalina itself - from Jabali, a wild boar. I have just consulted four etymological writers (the only ones I have at hand at the present moment), and not one of them contains the slightest allusion to this derivation. On the contrary, they deduce the word from Jaculum, or from the French Gerbe, a sheaf, or even from the Greek Εκβολη. You see then that the Reviewer has omitted all that was of any importance in the article, and then condemned it, and has even given it a place in his "table of errors." And then he says, as if in mockery, "that whenever he has shortened any of my articles, he has always taken care not to impair the meaning!"

Since the Reviewer finds fault with almost all my etymologies, it is a pity he does not favour us with some specimens of his own superior talent. In one instance, however, he has done so. - This is the word, Era, meaning an epoch in the chronology. As to this word, Thomson, views it as a Gothic form of the word year, somewhat varied. The Swedish and other northern languages have changed year into ar.

I also conjectured that Era might possibly be a variation of year, and you see I am supported by the authority of Thomson, who is usually considered a very good etymologist. But the Reviewer ridicules this, and proceeds to offer a conjecture of his own. We may, therefore, now fairly expect to see a coup de maître! Behold it then! Era, in the opinion of the Reviewer, is so named " ab ære," - from brass!!! (p. 509).

The Reviewer being "somewhat to seek" in ordinary matters, it is not to be expected that he can appreciate things more out of the common way and which appear to involve any new principles, or to deviate considerably from the beaten track. Accordingly, everything of that kind in my book he shoves aside at once as unintelligible or nonsensical. Thus, for instance, some of the principal results of modern philology seem entirely unknown to him; so that when I allude to them, en passant, as known principles, the Reviewer only supposes I have made a blunder. It so happens that I frequently derive Latin words from Teutonic roots: and Greek words from Latin or from old Italian, that is to say, provincial Latin. All this appears to the Reviewer to be a mass of chaotic confusion, merely displaying the ignorance of the author.

"We always supposed," he says (p. 508), "that if there was anything settled in the history of languages, it was that the Greek was the first of European tongues that arrived at any kind of perfection, .....and that Latin was probably the next, longo sed intervallo, in chronological order. This we thought was almost an axiom." And again (p. 509), " This, however, is not so strange as the derivations of Greek and Latin from the Gothic," &c.

You have a great deal, O Reviewer, to unlearn of those things which " you have always supposed," before you can make any progress in philology. It is well known that many scholars hold Latin to be a considerably more ancient language than Greek, and I merely advocated, or rather alluded to, that doctrine. Had I known that it was requisite to adduce authorities I would have done so, but I considered that to be quite superfluous at the present time of day. I will, however, now cite one or two with the utmost brevity, hoping that it will appear manifest in what quarter the imputation of ignorance concerning these matters ought in justice to rest.

My first quotation shall be from Donaldson's New Cratylus (p.89), who writes as follows: "We now come to the Latin and Greek languages, and trust to be able to show that the Latin is entirely referable to the Low German class.....That the Latin is the older language of the two [viz., older than Greek] was recognized even by those who wished to derive Latin from Greek.... The fact appears still more clearly from the structure of the language."

So much for Latin, and now for Greek. The same author says, ibidem: "It is distinctly stated that the Pelasgians, the oldest inhabitants of the country, spoke a language which was not Greek ( Herod. 1, 57).........It appears that the old inhabitants of Italy were also Pelasgians." So far Mr. Donaldson, whence it follows evidently that the Greek language is newer than the old Italian language, and consequently may have borrowed many words from it.

My next authority shall be that of the Rev. H. P. Hamilton, on account of its lucid conciseness. I quote from "a Sermon preached in Ripon Cathedral, in the year 1843" (p.26).

"It is one of the many novel results of modern philological researches that Latin is proved to be of higher antiquity than Greek, even in its oldest form."

So says Mr. Hamilton. I consider further testimonies needless.

Let us know consider another great error into which I have fallen, according to the Reviewer. I suggest that in the word Syncope, meaning a fainting fit, the Greek preposition Συν may have got confounded with a noun substantive. This he supposes to be the ne plus ultra of infatuation. Now I would remark, that if this were so, it would be next to impossible for me to produce another instance of the same thing having taken place. Yet nothing is more easy. I can produce one immediately in the word Συναγχη, meaning a well known complaint in the throat, which is often written Κυναγχη. The ancients themselves appear to have felt quite uncertain whether the first syllable was to be understood as Κυν, a dog, or the preposition Συν. and those who hold the former interpretation may very reasonably defend it by the analogous word ύαγχη, from ύςa swine. Although I did not quote this evidence in my book (for I greatly aimed at brevity), yet I thought it would be likely to occur to every scholar as a parallel instance. In fact, I have advanced very few things in this little volume which I could not support by many more examples if it were necessary.

At p. 177 of my work the following phrase occurs, in which I intimate that I dissent from some ancient opinions - "The Latin writers certainly seem to have accounted it the same word, but it may be doubted whether in so doing they took a philosophical view." Here the Reviewer things he sees a fine opportunity for ridicule. "What," he exclaims, "does Mr. T. prefer his own philosophic views of the Latin language to those of the Latin writers?"

This joke, which is far from being a new one, is altogether beside the question. The question is not whether Cicero, Ovid, or any other author spoke good Latin; but whether they were good etymologists of their own language? And no one can pretend that they were, since they have left us abundant specimens by which to judge. Ovid derives the name of Vesta from vis (strength) and stare (to stand) "Stat vi terra suâ, vi stando Vesta vocatur."

Now, if I were to say, "It may be doubted whether Ovid in this took a philosophical view," the Reviewer would exclaim - "do you, forsooth, pretend to know better than Ovid?" And so again if I said, " Marmor (marble) appears to be a different word from Marmor (the sea);" - " Laridum (lard or bacon) is not derived, as Macrobius pretends, from largè aridum," he would meet me with the same clear and triumphant confutation; "Do you pretend to know better than Macrobius, or than Lucretius (II. 763)?" &c., &c., which, of course, puts an end to the whole matter. Cadit quæstio.

The Reviewer repeatedly advances against me the charge of triviality. For instance, I have given three different etymologies of a "mote." Can triviality go farther? It cannot. I plead guilty. My reason for introducing in the course of my work a considerably number of short and trifling articles was, however, a simple, one. I thought the subject of my work would be considered a very dry one, and, therefore, that it was desirable, if possible, to render it less so, by throwing in occasionally a little lighter matter. It was in this way that most of the shorter articles, to which I myself attributed no importance whatever were introduced; and if some of them brought a smile to the reader's countenance, that was not by any means a phenomenon unexpected by the author, or undesired by him. But it certainly never occurred to him that any person possessing a common share of literary honesty would deliberately sit down and extract these articles, place them all in a row, and then affirm that the entire volume consisted of nothing better!

In trifling a little occasionally with my subject I only followed great examples. Who does not recollect Dr. Johnson's derivation of an "ostler?" I suppose the fact is that he sometimes grew weary of his herculean task, and threw in a little bit of nonsense, as in the well-known instances of - exciseman, oats, angler, &c., &c. At the same time, I have no doubt that there were reviewers in those days, though now forgotten, who extracted those articles as a fair specimen of Johnson's merits as an etymologist, with a pretty positive affirmation that there was nothing better in his book.

There is one remark in the review for which I am thankful, and only wish it had been extended farther. This is, that three or four of the etymologies which I had considered to be new, have been given by previous authors. In a work like mine this could hardly have been avoided, considering the great number of words which it contains. For there are at least ten or twelve authors whose writings ought to be consulted respecting each word before one can feel tolerably certain that a particular derivation of it has not been given before. And even there would be by no means a complete certainty about it. It is true that this labour might be gone through by a persevering person, but not without a very great loss of time, expended, as far as I can see, to very little purpose. To write a work upon English Etymology under such a condition, would be so onerous as to be almost impracticable. Nor do I find that any preceding author has subjected himself to such a rule, or that any preceding critic has been so unreasonable as to require it. It suffices surely, if, in a great majority of instances, important or difficult etymologies are assigned to their first discoverers. It cannot be always done, or attempted. I have in general contented myself with examining two or three writers who have written after the rest, and profess to have collected their opinions; and if they said nothing concerning the etymology I had in view, I concluded that it was a new one - a conclusion, of course, only provisionally true - and liable at any time to be abandoned, if the contrary should appear. And there is another point in which I consider the matter. So far from regretting to find myself in a few instances anticipated by others, I am very glad of it, and wish it had occurred oftener. I have no ambition to stand alone in my views respecting difficult points of philology; and whenever I find that a former author of reputation has advanced the opinion as myself, far from exclaiming, " Pereant qui ante nos," &c., &c., I feel heartily glad of his support, and consider the loss amply compensated by the general support which this coincidence of opinion brings to my views of the subject. Thus, to take an instance which the Reviewer has not noticed, but which I have myself recently observed, the derivation which I have given of the numeral Ten, is in the first place from the Gothic Taihun; and I have suggested an etymology which, doubtless, many readers will consider a very rash one - that this Gothic word signified originally " two-hands." Now, I have recently found that the celebrated professor Lepsius has stated the same thing; so that we may look upon this as very likely to be the true etymology of the word (see Donaldson's New Cratylus, p. 201). Does not a coincidence of this kind naturally give an author additional confidence in the soundness of his own views, while it is but of little moment that he should have been anticipated in an individual remark? The Reviewer, indeed, if he had known that this etymology had been suggested before, would not have failed to bring it forward against me in his usual style, as conclusive proof of my "want of originality."

I have derived Havock from the habits of the hawk. This the Reviewer says is true - yet he blames me exceedingly for it, because, it seems, Skinner and others had proposed this etymology before me. Be it so; then, at any rate, it is confirmed by good authority. But I was deceived by Dr. Johnson, and Thomson, in his Etymons, taking no notice of so curious an etymology. For, see first what Thomson says - "The Welsh hafog is apparently the English word 'havock,' from Gothic, havega, wega; Swed., waga, to destroy; manna wak, manslaughter." And Dr. Johnson only says - " Havock, from hafog Welsh, devastation." No mention of the ' Hawk' in either author.

Scorn is another of those words of which I have given the true etymology, under the idea that it had not been given before. It was one which I brought forward (as I stated) with great hesitation - which is now removed, since I am glad to find that it is supported by the previous authority of Junius. Is it not obvious that when a hazardous conjecture of this kind is proved to be true, or, at least, very probable, by an unexpected concurrence of respectable authorities, that many other things in my book, which are not yet so supported, acquire additional probability? For this reason, as I said before, I should be happy to find that similar coincidences existed in other cases of difficulty.

With respect to this word Scorn, Thomson erroneously derives it from the Greek, χαρις, with the Italian negative S for the Latin D'is. It is, of course, the Italian Scorno, but Ménage derives scorno from spernere. Neither these authors nor Johnson allude to the true derivation, which circumstance deceived me, and I did not think it necessary to examine further, being satisfied of the correctness of my own etymology, which, nevertheless, I did not expect would be assented to by the generality of my readers, on the ground chiefly of the improbability of an Italian word ( scorno) being derived from the Danish language.

Take, now, the word Marquis. I certainly thought I was advancing a new etymology in saying that this title originally meant a Cavalier or Knight; and that Cavaliers were so called in the Celtic or Gallic language, even so long ago as the days of Pausanias. It seems however, that this suggestion has been thrown out before. On this account I get no credit for my conjecture, but, on the contrary, suffer great and prolonged vituperation. I can only say that, if given before, it was now almost forgotten, and deserved to be recovered and given again. Johnson, Lemon, Thomson, &c., &c., know nothing of it; they all consider the title of Marquis to mean Warden of the Marches; Lemon, indeed, taking the trouble to inform us that these are not the "fens and marshes," but the frontiers or boundaries. And a distinguished literary friend, in a letter, criticising some of the "novelties" in my book, objected particularly to this notion of mine, of reducing Marquises into simple Cavaliers of the olden time, which I mention to show that the derivation was certainly not a well known one, and that I deserved for it something better than ridicule and invective.

Of course, the Reviewer knew all the time perfectly well, that Johnson, and many of his followers, had gone wrong in these words, and had quite omitted their true etymologies; but, while none of his censure ever falls on them for their carelessness, he leads his readers to suppose that I have only repeated in my work what was to be found in them and in all previous writers.

I freely admit that there are some errors and inaccuracies in my work which I would wish corrected, as might be expected in so miscellaneous a collection of materials. I admit, for instance, that the Reviewer has a Saturnine temper, according to his own view of the etymology of that word (heavy as lead, dull as the light of the planet Saturn), and that I was wrong if I took any other view of the matter; and I was wrong, too, if I said that nothing could be learnt from the Reviewer of the slightest utility. It is true that, respecting literature, little or nothing can be learnt from him, but much in another way, and of another kind. Considered as a specimen of philological invective, never was anything more worthy of the attention of the youthful Critic, who aspires to learn the noble art of " Reviewing." Here he will find, as in an Arsenal, examples of every "weapon of offence" which is employed in vituperative literature, and he may study them with the greatest improvement and advantage. More especially I recommend to his attention the skilful use of typography, in which this Reviewer so decidedly excels, This is an ingenious invention of modern times, by which a Critic, merely by an abundant display and skilful arrangement of italics, capitals, and notes of wonder and admiration, succeeds in condemning an author in the opinion of the reader, even before he has perused a single line of the invective.

And next to this the young Critic will do well to imitate (if he can) the Reviewer's style - so full of satiric wit and brilliant sarcasm! There is but one thing in which he must yield the palm to the sturdy old Critics of former days (and that is his misfortune and not his fault). They lampooned all literary works in Latin, but he is compelled to do so in English if he would be understood in these illiterate and degenerate days. Now, the vernacular, rich and expressive and sonorous as it is in terms of abuse and vilification applied to matters of ordinary life, does not in questions of literary scandal, equal the copious resources of the Latin. At least, in my judgment it does not. The Reviewer has certainly made a splendid effort - but, on the whole, I prefer the Latin literary slang of the last century.

If I had happened to publish in those days my work would, no doubt, have been received by the learned with some such complimentary language as the following:

Apage nugas putidas ineptas quas effutit blaterat Talbotius insulsissimus homonculus qui Parnassi fluenta ne primis quidem labiis degustavit, vir omnium αμουσοτατος, qui scrinia Junii compilavit.....and so forth through several pages more of sonorous invective, compared with which the choicest phrases of modern criticism must appear tame and spiritless.

I will now close these remarks, which have extended already to too great a length. But, before I do so, allow me to ask you, my dear Sir, rather a home question!

How came you to be so entirely mistaken about my book as to say ( Literary Gazette, p.57,) that it is "the most interesting work on the derivation of the English language which has appeared for many years; and perhaps the most entertaining that has ever been published on the subject,"... and (p.111.) that it is "attractive both in matter and in manner," and that you "hardly know where any one could open the book without learning something he did not know before, and being pleased by the way I which that knowledge is conveyed?"

See what it is, my dear Sir, to be misled by appearances! Had you examined the work more fully, its "utter nullity" could not have escaped you.

With many excuses for having occupied so large a space in your columns,

I remain, my dear Sir, Yours most truly,
H. F. Talbot

[Editor's note]<1>


Notes:

1. [We feel ourselves bound to offer some excuse for our blindness, and the more so, because it is not in this instance alone that the Literary Gazette has to justify a different of opinion from another critic, but because there has been propagated a pretty general notion that it is "too good natured," and therefore deficient in judgment and justice exactly in proportion to its abstinence from misrepresentation and acrimony. With regard to Mr. Talbot's work, the tale is a plain, and should be an exemplary one. Conversing with some of the first scholars and most eminent writers of the age, we heard, amid many compliments to the work, remarks on some of the etymologies, as being fanciful, and even absurd! Staggered by these, we thought it our duty to consult the best authorities we could find on the particular points which had been mentioned; and we carefully consulted the Library of the Royal Society of Literature, rich in such books, (to this library Todd, the editor of Johnson's Dictionary, gave his whole collection of philological and etymological publications and manuscripts, and of which, by the way, Mr. Talbot has just been elected a member,) in order to ascertain the quality of the objections. We are bound to say, that the deeper we dug the more solid did we find the foundations for Mr. Talbot's deductions and conjectures; and the truth was demonstrated to us, that, if they took the same pains, those who came to scoff would remain to believe. If, after such a trial and such a result, we were wrong in giving the author the benefit of them in cases which we did not examine (and who could examine all in so vast a number?), we must plead guilty to the critical offence of being too good natured, instead of infusing the proper abuse, and indiscriminating, instead of righteously bitter in the detection or misapprehension of errors. We are sorry to add, that such a failing here would, to our minds, have leant to virtue's side; and that we certainly were much surprised by the tone of the review in question. Surely, we said, if Mr. Talbot had been ten times as much at fault in this branch of literature as is ascribed to him, he would have been an unbecoming object for ridicule and obloquy to any scholar or gentleman in England. His high position in the social and literary scale, and his remarkable discoveries in science (honourable to his country), ought to have saved him from rude assault; and the censor would remember that at least decent language was due to one who, in one scientific pursuit alone, had made a name that would never perish, and had discovered and matured THE TALBOTYPE. - ED. Lit. Gaz.]

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