William
Cowper’s is not an exotic vocabulary. In keeping with the modesty of his
subjects – a sofa, a hare, shrubbery – his language is rather narrow, tending
toward the Latinate and with few archaisms, words in dialect or those drawn from
eighteenth-century science. His poems call for less annotation than those by many
of his contemporaries. This makes sense, considering that he also wrote hymns to
be sung by people not always highly educated. So I was surprised, while reading
The Task (1784) again, to come upon
an unfamiliar word: oscitancy. Cowper
is railing against the decline in morals, “a dissolution of all bonds,” a time when
“bars and bolts / Grew rusty by disuse.” He blames “fashion, dissipation,
taverns, stews,” and asks:
“Now,
blame we most the nurslings or the nurse?
The
children, crook’d, and twisted, and deform’d,
Through
want of care; or her, whose winking eye
And
slumb’ring oscitancy mars the brood?
The
nurse no doubt. Regardless of her charge,
She
needs herself correction; needs to learn,
That
it is dang’rous sporting with the world,
With
things so sacred as a nation’s trust.”
The
context was no help but the OED
clears things up: “drowsiness as evidenced by yawning; dullness; indolence,
negligence, inattention.” For the verb oscitate,
the OED quotes Dr. Johnson’s definition
of “to yawn” in his Dictionary: “to
gape; to oscitate.” The search uncovered another surprise: Cowper is the 33rd
most frequently cited source in the OED,
with 5,938 quotations, about 0.17 percent of the total. That puts him ahead of
Alexander Pope at 43rd, Daniel Defoe at 44th, and most
surprisingly, Dr. Johnson at 45th, but far behind the Times of London in first place with
40,617 citations, Shakespeare in second with 33,075 and Walter Scott in third
with 17,111. Among the other books I’m reading is You Could Look It Up: The Reference Shelf from Ancient Babylon to
Wikipedia (Bloomsbury, 2016) by Jack Lynch, the Johnson, eighteenth-century
and history of language scholar at Rutgers. Every page comes with at least one small
explosion of delight. In a chapter titled “Reading the Dictionary,” Lynch recounts
an anecdote about Robert Browning and the primary editor of the OED, James A.H. Murray (1837-1915):
“When
the young Robert Browning `was definitely to adopt literature as his
profession,’ wrote a nineteenth-century biographer [Mrs. Sutherland Orr, Life and Letters of Robert Browning,
1891], `he qualified himself for it by reading and digesting the whole of
Johnson’s Dictionary.’ Later he told James Murray that he planned to do the
same with the Oxford English Dictionary—but
Browning died not long after A was published.”
No comments:
Post a Comment