With all thy seeking, wisdom seek.
To learn well when and what to speak;
And let thy words be few and sound,
For life and death in words are found.
—Old Maxim.
At a Washington dinner party my attention was forcibly directed to the difficulty of defining words in common use at short notice without the aid of a dictionary. One of the party, which consisted of journalists, offered to make a small bet with each of the other persons present that he could not within three minutes and without reference to a dictionary write down a definition of the word "time." Most of us took the bet and we all lost it. Try the experiment without reflection. St. Augustine said of time, "What is it? If unasked I know, if you ask me I know not."
The truth is that the haphazard definition of words is no easy matter. Indeed, even after mature consideration most of us would find it difficult to define many of the words we are using every day, to say nothing of those with which we have merely a nodding acquaintance. Recently I noticed that Mr. W. J. Locke, in his admirable novel "The Mountebank," had launched out into biological phraseology, having used the words "atavism" and "parthenogenesis." As a matter of curiosity I asked several people who had read the book what these words meant. I found that none of them could give me any coherent explanation. Indeed, two of them had not even noticed the words. The inquiring mind in such matters is comparatively rare. Most people use a dictionary chiefly for the purpose of checking their spelling. They seldom consult it in order to ascertain the meaning of words. They think that they understand the meaning of those they use themselves, and don't trouble to inquire about the meanings of words used by other people which they do not happen to understand.
Reasoning depends upon the use of names or marks, and unless we adequately comprehend their definite meanings we cannot hope to reason accurately. It would of course be possible to reason about things without naming them, but this would be a clumsy method. We should rob ourselves of the classifications and enumerations made by mankind as a whole, and should have no means of identifying our own thoughts. Suppose that every time I had occasion to think of an object I had consciously to reassemble all my ideas concerning it, what a burden life would be! The use of a name or mark brings them all back in a flash. As Professor Bain says: "Thoughts of themselves are perpetually slipping out of the field of immediate mental vision, but the name abides with us and the utterance of it restores them in a moment. Without any formal instruction the language in which we grow up teaches us all the common philosophy'of the age. It supplies us with classifications ready made."
For example, suppose I want to draw a distinction between a room and a cupboard; I might achieve my purpose by showing examples of each and explaining their respective uses and characteristics, but I can save myself the trouble by adopting the ordinary definitions. This, however, implies that I and the person with whom I am discussing rooms and cupboards both understand the meanings of the terms, and construe them in the same way. Hence the value of the dictionary which defines the meaning of words, names, or marks as accepted by mankind.
Serious doubts often occur as to technical terms. Probably little short of £100,000 has been spent in law costs with the object of deciding what constitutes a drain and what a sewer, and even now I am told the matter is not free from doubt. In ordinary life it is always well to think of words and to use them in their dictionary sense. This practice leads to continuity of thought and avoids misunderstandings. But it must be remembered that words sometimes possess special meanings for certain purposes. Many Acts of Parliament contain what is known as a definition clause, which provides that for the purposes of the Act certain words shall be construed in a certain sense.
Metaphysicians have had prolonged arguments on the subtle question whether words are the names of things themselves or of our ideas of things, but for practical purposes the point is of small importance. It is, however, well to note that while some names imply the existence of things, others merely signify an idea. Take, for example, the words horse and centaur respectively. The former indicates a real animal with all its attributes, whatever they are in fact, while the latter refers to an imaginary creature whose imaginary qualities depend upon the definition of its name. Crudely put, the name is the animal.
The more precise you want to be the more words you must know, so as to be able to indicate more varieties of the same object with greater precision. But apart from the regions of science a person with a comparatively small vocabulary, who thoroughly understands the signification of the words he uses, and who knows how to use them, is more effective than a person with a larger choice of words, many of which he does not fully appreciate, and whose style is ponderous or involved.
It must be borne in mind that there are dictionaries and dictionaries. In order to understand the meaning of many words a somewhat elaborate dictionary is necessary. Numerous words possess various meanings, and the meanings of words frequently change from time to time. To gather different shades of meaning it is often necessary to have recourse to an extensive dictionary, such as the monumental and still not quite completed "New English Dictionary," which can be seen in the larger public libraries. With its wealth of quotations it is itself a library. If you examine any page you will be struck by these facts: (1) The extraordinary flexibility and diversity of a large number of words; (2) the extraordinary way in which the meanings of words have been varied by time; and (3) the paucity of the ordinary man's vocabulary.
Some time ago President Wilson caused a sensation by the sense in which he used the word peradventure, and later President Harding threw a small etymological bombshell by using the word "normalcy." Many Americans still think he coined it, but you will find it in "Webster." Clarity of speech has its advantages, but the occasional use of a little-known or inadequately-appreciated word seems to be a useful method of attracting attention to the utterances of the great.
No house, hotel, or ship should be without a good dictionary, but not necessarily a ponderous one. It is an indispensable book. The possession of a dictionary is not, however, sufficient. You must use it. It is a good plan to look up every word you see or hear, the meaning of which you do not understand. If you resolutely follow this practice you will increase your knowledge by leaps and bounds. But it is only right to point out that sometimes dictionary definitions are not illuminating. For example, the definition of "horse" given in Webster's great and invaluable New International Dictionary of the English Language which has recently been brought up to date, is as follows: "A large perissodactyl ungulate animal domesticated by man since a prehistoric period and used as a beast of burden, or draft animal, or for riding; by extension, any kind of allied extinct species." This kind of definition used to excite satire, and Dr. Johnson was one of its victims. But his defence was easy and cogent. He pointed out that, while it was desirable to explain a word in terms less abstruse than itself, this is often impossible. To define "horse" satisfactorily you would have to use words too plain to admit of a definition, and such words cannot be found. This difficulty explains his famous definition of network; "anything reticulated or decussated with interstices between the intersections." Another and more amusing example of the difficulty of defining the simplest words is the classic story of Plato's definition of man as a two-legged creature without feathers. Diogenes plucked a cock and brought it into the Academy saying, "This is Plato's man."
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