In the order of nature, names would be first given to concrete objects and their qualities, and to visible acts, i.e. to those things and acts which are made known to us through the senses. But whatever may have been the principle which determined the original form of these words, it is well known that, in all languages, the same vocabulary was afterwards used in a mental or secondary sense. No new words were invented for the expression of thought or feeling, but all the acts of the mind and soul were represented by terms originally applied in a concrete sense. In a word, the abstract was derived from the concrete. The original concrete sense of the verb ‘to see’ was, to take in knowledge through the eye, but the same word was afterwards used abstractly. ‘I see’ may signify ‘I have the proper use of my eyes;’ and may also mean, ‘I understand or perceive with my mind.’ A blind man cannot see in the first of these senses, though he may in the second. To hear, to taste, to touch, &c., have all these double meanings. There may be some words not found in a secondary sense; but, on the other hand, a very large number have lost their original physical signification.

In English, most of the words which express operations of the mind are drawn from a Latin, French, or Greek source. These were all originally used in a concrete sense, which in English is now lost.

Horace, in his well-known ninth Satire, has:—

‘Occurrit’ cannot be here translated by ‘occurred.’ The word, in English, has lost its concrete, and retains only its abstract, meaning. With us, ideas or thoughts may ‘occur’ to the mind, but we cannot properly speak of a friend ‘occurring’ (i.e. meeting) us in the street.

One essential difference between ancient and modern languages consists in the relation between abstract, or mental, and concrete expression. The languages of antiquity possessed a much nearer relation to the original, primary sense of words. In them, all the abstract had a much closer affinity with the concrete terms from which they were derived. The Latin word ‘spiritus’ had not only its abstract meaning of ‘cheerfulness,’ or ‘courage,’ but also its concrete sense of ‘breath;’ whereas, in modern languages the word has only an abstract sense, and it is only by a knowledge of its etymology that we can get at its material origin. The result of this loss is most complete when a modern, formed upon an ancient language, is no longer in direct communication with the roots of the words used. In this respect ancient languages possessed a charm for which nothing can compensate, and, when in the hands of a great poet, they produced most wonderful effects. But the condition of modern languages is, in this respect, very different. Here, most of the abstract words, being deprived of their original concrete meaning, are, to the general reader, mere conventional signs, wholly unable to produce that vividly picturesque effect found in the ancient tongues. And herein chiefly lies the value of a knowledge of derivation. For, although a word may now have lost its original meaning, it is of the greatest importance that its primary signification should be known, in order to arrive at a clear knowledge of its exact and accurate modern application. We commonly speak of a man ‘applying’ himself to his work. To the general reader this conveys the idea of giving his mind or attention to what he is about; but to those who are ignorant of the etymology of the word ‘applying,’ the picture of the man bending his body to his task is wholly lost. And not only as regards the true meaning of the single word, but as concerns the difference in signification between terms apparently synonymous, this knowledge will be of the greatest importance. The difference in meaning between ‘to instil’ and ‘to inculcate’ is to be understood only by a knowledge of their etymology. To the ordinary reader both these words have the general meaning of ‘to teach,’ or instruct; but it is only he who knows the meaning of their roots who will understand that nice difference in the mode of teaching which they respectively describe. The process of ‘dropping in’ knowledge by degrees, conveyed by the former word, paints a very different picture from the ‘stamping in’ of the latter.

Some of our poets occasionally use abstract, especially Latin words, in a primary meaning, which they, properly, no longer possess. We may look upon this practice as a licence which may be conceded to poets; but we should never adopt it in common conversation, or in ordinary writing. Milton is especially addicted to this practice. When he speaks of ‘Heaven’s afflicting thunder,’ he uses the word ‘afflicting’ in its original primary sense of striking down bodily. The reprobate angels are thus represented as being hurled down from heaven. But this is not the present use of the verb ‘to afflict.’ It means to prostrate as to mind or feeling, and is never used in a concrete sense. If one man should meet another in anger and knock him down, we should not call that afflicting him; and yet this is the sense in which the word is employed in the passage referred to. In the same poet we meet with ‘horrent’ (for bristling) arms; ‘savage’ (for woody) hill; and ‘amiable’ (for lovely) fruit, &c. Thomson, in his poem of ‘Winter,’ has, in like manner, ‘With dangling ice all horrid’—the last word, in the sense of rough or bristling. Modern usage does not sanction this application of such words in ordinary discourse or writing.