This week “disannul” is my word of choice. Not for its
meaning so much as Johnson’s comments about the word. The lexicographer states
that the word comes from adding “dis” to “annul.” The prefix is used to
indicate a “negative signification” according to Johnson. Even today, “dis” is
a very commonly used prefix, in such words as: “disarm” or “disjoin,” which words
Johnson also cites. Given the prefix’s well-known usage, it is easy to
understand that to “disannul” would be to not annul, but Johnson warns
us that it was not so used. He offers several quotations using “disannul” to
indicate what “annul” means. Because of this redundancy, Johnson laments that
those using “disannul” do so without, “… knowing the meaning of the word annul.”
He then passes sentence on the word and its users by declaring, “It ought
therefore to be rejected as ungrammatical and barbarous.” “Disannul” then is
cast away as an ignorant barbarism, unworthy of use.
This is akin to a double negative, such as, “I don’t have nothing.”
This is actually saying, “I do not have no thing,” awkward and equal to saying
one does have a thing – the opposite of the original intent of the speaker.
This is why Johnson says using “disannul” is “barbarous.” This use is nicely explicated
by the first entry for “barbarism,” “A form of speech contrary to the purity
and exactness of any language.” The author is stating that “disannul” is an
impure form of English.
Some may be initially put off by Johnson’s use of “barbarous,”
thinking he is using the word as it is commonly – to indicate monstrous,
uncivilized or greatly cruel behavior. Here it is not the case, though his
dictionary does give those possible usages. Johnson is actually harkening back
to the Greek word βάρβαρος (barbaros). To the ancient Greeks, this word had the
basic descriptive meaning of any person unacquainted with the Greek language or
Greek culture – a non-Hellenist. The Romans, great Hellenists in their own
right, borrowed from the Greeks in their word barbarous: indicating one
not Greek or Roman – a foreigner. From Latin into French, the barbarous
made its way into English, with meanings close to its Greek and Latin
progenitors. The sticking point is how “barbarian” or “barbarous” is typically considered
in modern usage.
This last notion is worthy of consideration as an argument for the
usefulness to humanity of greater awareness of words and their meanings. As mankind’s
greatest and most common form of communication, words spoken and written would
seem to be something greatly cherished and nourished. Sadly, in this age of texting,
emojis and tiny soundbites, deep and nuanced word meanings are given short
shrift (by the way, the journey from to give shrift to short shrift
is a microcosm of philological nuance worth investigating). Messages measured
in seconds do not lend themselves to serious lexical consideration or the
introspection of the sender. If the height of one’s literary aspirations does
not exceed popular social media formats, the culture that begets such a
minimized regard for human communication is creating an environment highly conducive
to language corruption at best or at worst the death of the artisanry of wordcraft.
This author fears such a society could not summon to the page the elevated prose
of the King James Bible or the Declaration of Independence – words that changed
the history of mankind for all time.
Until next time.
John
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