The word came to refer to any unreasonable source of anxiety: “An object of dread,
esp. of needless dread; an imaginary terror. In weakened senses: an annoyance,
bane, thorn in the flesh.” George Eliot uses the word in an 1880 letter and Dickens
writes in The Old Curiosity Shop (1840):
“What have I done to be made a bugbear of?” But it’s Dr. Johnson who makes the
word most memorable and useful. On this date, Dec. 23, in 1758, in The Idler #36, he diagnoses an
obfuscatory style of writing still very much in vogue, “a style by which the most evident truths are so obscured that they can
no longer be perceived, and the most familiar propositions so disguised that
they cannot be known.” Johnson in particular damns John Petvin’s Remarks on Letters Concerning Mind (1750), a book about which I
know little except that both Coleridge and Charles Lamb read it, and that its
contents sound suspiciously like some of the flakier claims made by today’s
neuroscientists and their popularizers. Of the book’s style, Dr. Johnson says:
“This
style may be called the terrifick,
for its chief intention is to terrify and amaze; it may be termed the repulsive, for its natural effect
is to drive away the reader; or it may be distinguished, in plain English, by
the denomination of the bugbear
style, for it has more terrour than danger, and will appear less
formidable as it is more nearly approached.”
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