This perversity of human nature in turning words into an opposite and unfavourable meaning may also be seen in many familiar and every-day forms of speech. It is not uncommon to hear an abandoned fellow spoken of as a ‘precious’ scoundrel, or some absurdity referred to as ‘blessed’ nonsense. This perversion is not confined to English. The French often use the word ‘sacré’ in a sense diametrically opposed, to ‘holy,’ a meaning which existed in Latin, from which French is derived. Virgil’s ‘auri “sacra” fames’ is properly translated ‘accursed lust for gold.’ The Latin ‘altus’ also conveyed the distinct and opposite meanings of ‘high’ and ‘deep.’
Also the English word ‘silly’ has degenerated from ‘selig,’ which in German preserves its meaning of ‘blessed;’ and ‘ninny’ took its origin from the Spanish ‘niño,’ where it means simply ‘a child.’
Another example of a change for the worse may be seen in the word ‘prevent.’ The Church Service gives us this word in the literal sense of ‘to go before, or guide:’ ‘Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings,’ &c.; and in the Collect for the 17th Sunday after Trinity:—‘We pray Thee that Thy grace may always “prevent” and follow us.’ But this is not the present sense of the word; it has now always the meaning of ‘to stop,’ rather than to guide onwards—the very opposite of its former signification. This, like other words, has degenerated.
Contradictory Meanings.
Connected with this degeneracy of words is one very curious phenomenon, viz. that in English we frequently meet with the same word in two distinct meanings, directly opposed to each other. For example, the verb ‘to let’ has generally the meaning of ‘to give leave,’ or ‘allow.’ This is its ordinary acceptation, but in the still common legal phrase, ‘without let or hindrance,’ it has the very opposite meaning.[2] Again, Hamlet says:—‘I’ll make a ghost of him that “lets” me,’ i.e. him that interferes with or hinders me, where the sense is again the very reverse of the usual meaning.
The verb ‘to cleave’ is another case of this contradiction of meaning. ‘To cleave’ may mean either ‘to adhere to closely’ or ‘to cut asunder.’[3] When we say the tongue ‘cleaves’ to the roof of the mouth, it is used in the first sense; but the directly opposite meaning is implied when people talk of ‘cleaving’ wood, i.e. cutting it into parts.
We may use the word ‘fast’ in two senses, opposed to each other. It conveys the idea either of quiet rest or of rapid motion. ‘The door was fast locked,’ means that it was fixed and not to be moved; whereas in the sentence, ‘He runs fast,’ it expresses quickness of motion.
To this class also belongs ‘nervous,’ which means either possessing, or wanting nerve. When ladies are said to be ‘nervous,’ we understand that they are weak, timid, easily frightened; in fine, wanting nerve. On the other hand, a ‘nervous’ style is one marked by vigour and energy. One use of the word represents the absence, and the other the presence, of nerve.
When Shakspere makes Hamlet say, ‘Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,’ he means, ‘my most hated foe.’ As extremes are said to meet, so does this word express the extremes of love and hatred.
The adjective ‘fearful’ will also illustrate this principle. It means either ‘affected by fear’ or ‘inspiring fear.’ The word ‘mortal’ is in the same condition. Its usual sense is ‘subject to death,’ but it is also used subjectively, as ‘producing death.’ Hence the difference between a ‘mortal wound’ and a ‘mortal being.’