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http://www.economist.com/blogs/p ... on-original-johnson
IT DOESN'T look a day over 250. April 15th marks the 260th anniversary of the publication of the great dictionary written by Samuel Johnson, the eponym of this column. Johnson’s dictionary was rightly celebrated as a great work of scholarship. And a few of his definitions are also celebrated for their wit: a lexicographer is “a harmless drudge”, oats a grain that "in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people”.
But this Johnson is a bigger fan, perhaps, of Johnson’s preface, which—unlike the entries in the dictionary itself—can be enjoyed in a short sitting, and which provides a window into an agile English mind. He opens with the theme of the drudge—“humble”, as well as “harmless”—who can hardly win at the occupation he has chosen. A good lexicographer can only “escape reproach”, whereas a bad one will be “exposed to censure” and “disgraced by miscarriage”. The lexicographer is a bit like the referee in sport: a bad call will be on the nightly news with the referee’s name in bold at the bottom. A good call is soon forgotten.
Today's “prescriptivists”, stern in their defence of what they see as correct English, see Johnson as an ally. He wrote that the language was “neglected, suffered to spread, under the direction of chance, into wild exuberance, resigned to the tyranny of time and fashion, and exposed to the corruptions of ignorance”. Lynne Truss or Nevile Gwynne, Johnson’s would-be heirs, could hardly be more pointed. Indeed, it is considered politer, today, to be seen to be guiding unfortunates to the light, rather than denouncing their “corruptions of ignorance”.
But descriptivists—academic linguists and others who prefer to study language as it exists in the messy world, mostly without value judgments—recruit Johnson to their arguments too. How did he compile his dictionary? “I applied myself to the perusal of our writers; and noting whatever might be of use to ascertain or illustrate any word or phrase, accumulated in time the materials of a dictionary.” That is the definition of descriptivism: Johnson put himself to finding out what the language was, not handing down judgments on what it should be.
Of course, for his time he was registering standard, written, literary English. Johnson made no pretence to be scouring the English-speaking world for dialectal words and variants. At his time, the dictionary was still a new item on bookshelves, and people would indeed buy it as a reference book to improve their own writing and understand that of others. The study of language because it is interesting in its own right—which leads to serious examination of slang, dialect, informal usage, mistakes and all—did not much occur to Johnson, nor much to anyone else in 1755. (Well, almost no one: according to one story, a polite lady commended the good doctor for not including swear words in the dictionary. “I see you have been looking for them,” he is said to have replied.)
In other words, the man who emerges from a reading of the Preface is all too rare in today’s discussions about language. Like conservatives and prescriptivists, he values stability (indeed one of the purposes of a dictionary is to promote it). But like linguists and descriptivists, he concludes that change is inevitable:
[A]cademies have been instituted, to guard the avenues of their languages, to retain fugitives, and repulse intruders; but their vigilance and activity have hitherto been vain; sounds are too volatile and subtile for legal restraints; to enchain syllables, and to lash the wind, are equally the undertakings of pride.
Johnson would do his best to lend the language a gravity, while accepting that there was only so much he could do. More than anything—though he had no trouble calling an error an error—he brought good humour and humility to his work, something that is as needed in 2015’s language debates as it was in 1755. It is best to instruct and enlighten without being a scold, braggart or prig. Rather, the best a language writer could do is to emulate the great man in constantly working to learn and improve: “I cannot hope to satisfy those, who are perhaps not inclined to be pleased, since I have not always been able to satisfy myself.” |
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