Bryant’s Index Expurgatorious
During William C. Bryant’s editorial management of the New York Evening Post, he attached to the walls of the rooms of the sub-editors and reporters a list of prohibited words. It would be a substantial benefit to “English undefiled” if a similar list were adopted and insisted upon by every American newspaper. For our newspapers have a manifest influence in determining the growth and character of our language, and it behooves them to do their best to preserve its purity. But this is a far less easy thing to do than most persons would imagine; and, if forbidden words do occasionally slip into the columns of the newspaper, it must be a blemish such as, in some shape and degree, is supposed to be inseparable from all human productions. Most of the writing on the modern daily newspaper is necessarily the work of that enterprising, wide-a-wake class known as reporters. They “shoot on the wing,” look more to present effect than to classic correctness in their writing, and are, none of them, purists in literary style.
The English language has never had any well defined and universally recognized laws of its own. In its literature it began with the time when every writer was a law unto himself, and it has never fully outgrown that condition. Nor can all the Trenches and Goulds and Grant Whites in existence mould it into any arbitrarily correct shape. It is a mixture of various tongues, and is drawing to itself, every year, a considerable number of additional words from the most diverse and curious sources, and especially from the other leading languages. It may in time—who knows?—become the universal language, the one which is to be the lingual Moses to lead the world out of the wilderness of the curse of Babel, and give to all people a common vehicle of communication. In this view of the case, the liberties taken by the ingenious and inventive newspaper reporter may be regarded as important and useful. The dictionaries wait upon the newspapers, and slowly accept and take to themselves, as English words, the intruders which a year or two before looked so strange in the newspapers, but which custom has rendered not only familiar, but seemingly necessary.
Here is Mr. Bryant’s list of forbidden words:
Aspirant.
Authoress.
“Being” done, built, etc.
Bogus.
Bagging, for “capturing.”
Balance, for “remainder.”
Banquet, for “dinner.”
Collided.
Commenced, for “begun.”
Couple, for “two.”
Debut.
Donate and donation.
Employee.
“Esq.”
Indorse, for “approve.”
Gents, for “gentlemen.”
“Hon.”
Inaugurated, for “begun.”
Initiated, for “begun.”
In our midst.
Ignore.
Jeopardize.
Juvenile, for “boy.”
Jubilant, for “rejoicing.”
Lady, for “wife.”
Lengthy.
Loafer.
Loan or loaned, for “lend” or “lent.”
Located.
Measurable, for “in a measure.”
Ovation.
Obituary, for “death.”
Parties, for “persons.”
Posted for “informed.”
Poetess.
Portion, for “part.”
Predicate.
Progressing.
Pants, for “pantaloons.”
Quite, prefixed to “good,” “large,” etc.
Raid, for “attack.”
Realized, for “obtained.”
Reliable for “trustworthy.”
Repudiate, for “reject” or “disown.”
Retire, for “withdraw.”
Rôle, for “part.”
Rowdies.
Roughs.
A success, for “successful.”
States, for “says.”
Taboo.
Transpire, for “occur.”
To progress.
Tapis.
Talented.
The deceased.
Vicinity, for “neighborhood.”
Wall Street slang generally: “Bulls, bears, long, short, flat, corner, tight, etc.”
To this list might be added without as the synonym of unless,—e. g., “I would not proceed without he agreed;” directly for as soon as,—e. g., “I gave him the letter directly I saw him;” apprehend for think, fancy, believe, imagine; from hence, from thence, from whence; mutual applied to persons (“our mutual friend”) instead of limiting it to actions, sentiments, affections; try and for try to; but that,—e. g., “he never doubts but that he knows their intentions;” widow-lady or widow-woman, though those who use these expressions never say widower-gentleman or widower-man. To the phrase in Mr. Bryant’s list in our midst, which is no better than in our middle, and very different from “in the midst of,” etc., may be added the never ending, still beginning in this connection, instead of “in connection with the foregoing,” etc. Even more careless and more thoughtless on the part of our best writers and speakers—not the vulgarians who use like in place of as—is the constant misuse of the phrase of all others. As Mr. Gould remarks, “How one thing can be of other things, is the question. One thing can be above other things, but it cannot be of them. A thing can be of all things, the most; or of all things, the richest, etc., or, of a class, the best; but the introduction of ‘others’ into the phrases in question excludes from the ‘class’ or from the ‘all,’ the very thing named.” A common blunder is the use of the past for the present tense when the writer or speaker wishes to express an existing fact,—e. g., “the truth was that A struck the first blow,” instead of the truth is. What is the more remarkable is the use of a verb in the past tense with an infinitive in the past tense, which is frequently met with in English literature. For example, Dr. Johnson says, “Had this been the fate of Tasso, he would have been able to have celebrated the condescension of your majesty in noble language.” Alison says, “It was expected that his first act would have been to have sent for Lords Grey and Grenville.” How much more simple as well as more correct to say to celebrate and to send.