“In
Cant’s resilient, venerable lies
There’s
something for the artist to take heart.
They
tell the truth that fiction never dies,
And
that tradition is the soul of art.”
The
word itself is resilient and venerable, with six meanings as a verb, five as a
noun and one as an adjective, not counting sub-taxonomies, the earliest dating
from the fourteenth century. Cant is
so dense with meaning and history, from geometry and carpentry to forestry and
political science, it resembles a linguistic seed out of which an entire world
could germinate. Its third noun usage begins in music (“singing, musical sound,”
from the Latin cantus) and evolves
over centuries into a cluster of related meanings, including Seth’s. By Milton’s
lifetime it meant “accent, intonation, tone” and “a whining manner of speaking,
esp. of beggars.” We’re getting warmer. Then it morphs into “the peculiar
language or jargon of a class.” By the eighteenth century the word had
recognizably assumed Seth’s meaning: “the special phraseology of a particular
class of persons, or belonging to a particular subject; professional or
technical jargon. (Always depreciative
or contemptuous.)” The OED cites Johnson’s Rambler No. 128: “Every class of society has its cant of
lamentation, which is understood by none but themselves.”
I
think of cant as in-crowd bullshit, language that flatters its users while
excluding or trying to mislead outsiders. Chief today among its adepts are academics,
journalists, lobbyists, critics, “activists” and, of course, politicians. The OED further distills this sense, “Phraseology
taken up and used for fashion's sake, without being a genuine expression of
sentiment; canting language,” and cites Johnson according to Boswell: “My dear
friend, clear your mind of cant... You may talk in this manner; it is a mode of
talking in Society; but don't think foolishly.”
In
his Dictionary, which often reads
like a catalog of punch lines, Johnson offers these definitions of cant, among others: “a
whining pretension to goodness, in formal and affected terms,” and “barbarous
jargon.” Besides Dr. Johnson, can you think of another writer wholly free of
cant? Jonathan Swift, perhaps. Solzhenitsyn. Yvor Winters. Never abundant,
today the species is almost extinct.
No comments:
Post a Comment