CONSCIENTIOUS proof-readers are often confronted with the perplexing problem of dealing with the whims of authors and editors. One of the most difficult phases of the problem arises in the fact that proof-readers themselves are, equally with the authors and editors, possessed of whimsical notions, and the two sets of whims clash.
What shall the conscientious proof-reader do? He can not let everything go unchallenged just as it is written; if he does, he is not conscientious in the true sense of the word, though of course writers should know what they want, and should write their matter just as it is to be printed.
The only way successfully to combat unreasonable whim is by opposing it with true principle; yet even this will not always succeed. When a clear statement of principle fails to convince a writer that he is at fault, of course the proof-reader must yield, often to his great disadvantage. All intelligent people know that printed matter passes through the hands of a proof-reader, and they naturally attribute to his carelessness or incompetency all errors in printing. Examples are not lacking.
A paragraph in a magazine says that “the poet Will Carleton has established a monthly magazine, and calls it Everywhere.” This is not a true announcement of the name, as Carleton splits it into two words—Every Where—and the word is so barbarously split each time it is used in his periodical. Any one noticing this form every where in print would naturally wonder why the proof-reader did not know better. It is a matter of personal knowledge that in this case the reader did know better, but Carleton stuck to his whim, saying that he had a right to make where a noun, whether others considered it so or not.
A New York newspaper says, with reference to political action, but in words equally applicable otherwise: “There is nothing that we know of in the Constitution of the United States, nor in the Constitution of any State, nor in the United States Statutes at Large, nor in any State law, nor any municipal regulation, that hinders any American citizen, whatever his calling or his walk in life, from making an ass of himself if he feels an irresistible impulse in that direction.”
Every man has a right to refuse to conform to general practice and principle, of course; but the arbitrary whimsicality shown in writing every where, and not everywhere, must fail to find its mate in any other mind, and can be applied to suit its writer only by himself. The only way to work for such a writer is to follow copy literally always. He has not a right to expect from the proof-reader anything more than the correcting of wrong letters.
Everywhere is an adverb of peculiar origin that may itself be classed as whim; but this whim is in accord with principle, and the one that splits the word is not. Probably the word was suggested by a question, as “Where are certain things done?” Answers are often made by repeating a word prominent in the question, and so it must have been in this case, “Every where.” This simulated a noun qualified by an adjective, and the two-word form was used until people realized that it was not right grammatically. Many years ago the correct single-word form was universally adopted, and it should not be dropped.
Real principle forbids the unifying in form of some words that may seem to be like everywhere but are actually of a different nature. Anyone, everyone, and oneself (the last being erroneously considered as similar to itself, etc.) are as bad as single words as every where is as two words, notwithstanding the fact that they are often so printed. Tendency to adopt such whimsicalities of form is, for some unaccountable reason, very common. It is something against which every competent proof-reader should fight, tooth and nail, because it is subversive of true principle. The utmost possible intelligent effort will not prevent common acceptance of some forms and idioms that are, in their origin at least, unreasonable; but these particular abominations are not fully established, and there is ground for belief that their use may be overcome.
Some Latin particles are used as prefixes in English, and have not the remotest potentiality of being separate English words, if the matter of making words is to be controlled by real principle. One of these is inter, meaning “between.” A paper published in Chicago is entitled the Inter Ocean, making the only possible real sense of the title something like a command to “inter (bury) ocean,” as inter is not, and never can be, properly an English adjective.
Many people are now printing as separated words such mere fragments as non, quasi, counter as in counter-suit and counter-movement, vice as in vice-chairman, and a few others, though the writer has not seen ante or anti so treated. These prefixes are all of the same nature, and if one of them is treated as a separate word, every one of the others should be so.