Derivation of the word Loot.
This word, which so often occurs in the account of the late Indian war, is simply the Hindustani for plunder. Noun, “loot,” plunder; verb, “lootna,” to plunder. This is one of the many examples of Hindustani words generally used in English conversation in India, which gradually came into use at home, amongst the oldest and most familiar of which is, perhaps, the slang term “that’s the cheez,” for “that’s the thing,” “cheez” Hindustani for “thing.”
Telegram.
When this Indian term was first applied to our telegraphic messages, a considerable amount of learned disquisition was wasted in seeking its origin. Any one who has been in India must remember the curious pronunciation by natives of many English proper names, as well as of other words, for which they have no translation in Hindustani; generally abbreviating a long difficult expression, and sometimes even changing altogether the pronunciation. On the introduction of the telegraph into India, there being no Hindustani word, the natives were obliged to attempt English, and the easiest way they could manage to pronounce telegraphic message was “telegram.” This being an easy abbreviation was at once picked up and adopted by the English in India, and then came home in the same way that we got “loot” from India, and now again from China.—Correspondent of the “Daily News.”
Archæology and Manufactures.
Archæology, far from being a mere unprofitable dilettantism, has a positive money-value, one appreciable not only by the literary or scientific mind, but even by those who look exclusively to material interests—that commerce, in fine, no less than history or art, is under obligations to archæology. In the case of our pottery and earthenware manufacture,—now an important branch of our national trade—at the time when Wedgwood first began his operations, England was an importing country with regard to this article of trade, drawing her supplies from Holland, France, and Germany. About the year 1760, Wedgwood established himself in Staffordshire. The models which he selected for imitation were taken from the antique:—from the Portland Vase, Greek vases, cameos, and old coins,—but, above all, from the magnificent collection of Etruscan vases and earthenware, which was purchased about that time from Sir William Hamilton, for the British Museum. Such was the immediate improvement in classical elegance and purity of design, which the manufactures derived from these sources, that within very few years England became an exporting country in this article; and the trade was steadily developed, until, in the year 1857, the declared value of her exports nearly reached a million and a half of money. Wedgwood’s own sense of his obligation to ancient models was marked by the name he gave to the new village formed around his works in Staffordshire, which he called Etruria, in honour of them. More recently the collection of Etruscan antiquities made by the Prince of Canino, and brought to England by Signor Campanari, has marked another stage of progress in this branch of industry; and, at this moment, the best silversmiths and jewellers in London resort to the British Museum, to study these models, and copy them for reproduction. Much of the well-known Minton-ware is either copied from, or due to the study and imitation of, the Majolica ware of Mediæval Italy; whilst the smaller objects of Assyrian art, brought from Nineveh by Mr. Layard, are extensively copied by artists, and reductions of them made in Parian, in marble, or in bronze.—Address to the Cambrian Archæological Association, by Mr. C. G. Wynne, M.P.
Good Art should be cheap.
There is no hope of the diffusion of a better taste till all classes of society are familiarized with the best works of the best artists; and English manufactures will never be generally improved in design till the purchasers as well as the producers know how to appreciate what is beautiful, and till a better intuitive taste prevails in the cottage as well as in the mansion. So long as it is cheaper to reproduce familiar shapes and ornaments, so long will it be vain to expect sufficient encouragement for improvements in design. Theorists may preach for ever as to abstract beauty, but the public will buy the old-fashioned, tasteless goods, if they cost less.
We do not believe that a beautiful thing need be more expensive than an ugly thing. At any rate, this is the lesson to impress upon such of our manufacturers as may be disposed to join the art-movement of the day. It is not enough to design a novelty in really good taste—it must be at least as cheap as the monstrosity which it is meant to supersede, and, if possible, cheaper. Is it not worth while to inquire whether there may not be some deeper reason than a supposed depraved taste for the hideous colouring, so dubious and sombre, of our Manchester goods, for example? To take an instance: we believe that Hoyle’s Prints, famous throughout the world for their slates and lilacs, are dyed of those most unpicturesque hues for no other reason than that they are the most “fast” colours that can be produced. If our chemists could discover the secret of making the primitive colours equally “fast,” and if the needful pigments were no dearer, we believe that cotton printing would be revolutionized. But, meanwhile, customers in every market of the world will ask for Hoyle’s Fast Prints, in preference to the brightest and most beautiful colours, which, however charming to the eye when bran-new, would disappear in the first wash.—Saturday Review.