Mind your language
THE MORALS of the ruling class have ever been a subject of fascination for political commentators. James Harring- ton, the 17th-century radical, said the `foundation of government' was 'the overbalance of propriety'.
Except Harrington was not referring to moral propriety, but (like Soames Forsyte) to property.
Or try this from Samuel Pepys: The bishops are so high that very few do love them.' He was not referring to their churchmanship (high, low, broad), but to their arrogance.
Indeed Pepys is an enjoyable mine- field (if you see what I mean) of linguis- tic change. One day in 1662 he 'stayed till 10 at night, persuading my mother to understand herself. He was not acting like some Californian counsellor. Under- stand meant 'conduct oneself properly'.
When Pepys appears in his night- gown, it is a dressing-gown; when he is amused at a play, he is bemused or con- fused; a noise of fiddlers is a group play- ing together; when he is given a lesson on the harpsichon, he is not learning it but hearing a performance on the harp- sichord; a sermon which is painful caus- es him not distress, but is painstaking in its exposition; when the King touches people for the King's Evil (scrofula), as Samuel Johnson was later supposed to have been touched, Pepys finds the cer- emony a simple one — merely foolish; and when he goes by boat to Westmin- ster Bridge he has nothing in common with Wordsworth, it is just a landing- stage or pier, since London Bridge remained the only crossing below Kingston until Westminster was built in 1750.
There is a delight on every page of Pepys (most specious and artificial), but you have to keep your wits about you and a dictionary to hand.
Dot Wordsworth
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