Fortunately for the English writer we possess the largest vocabulary in the world. The base of this ocean of discourse is really two rivers flowing together: Anglo-Saxon and Latin.
English is the second-largest language in the world, spoken by 358 million. Mandarin is first, with an estimated 650 million speakers and Russian is third at 233 million speakers.1 Since both Mandarin and Russian are politically compromised as artistic instruments of expression, that leaves English as the world’s most important literary language. English has conquered the world. Let’s hope you will conquer with it. Apart from our freedom of speech, our language itself is fluid. We “learn” quickly. This openness is barely apparent in Anglo-Saxon with its limited vocabulary. The fortunes of war altered English forever.
Until 1066 we did fine with what we had. When Harold fell at Hastings, shot through the eye with an arrow, our language was overwhelmed by Norman French. We now had High English and Low English. These divisions are with us to this very day and provide the subtle shadings of meaning available to a writer through careful word choice alone.
High English is Latin. Well, it’s really Latin that came through French because the Normans spoke French. When the Normans took over, everything Anglo-Saxon was ruthlessly shoved aside. Culture was Latin. Granted the Romans invaded Britain in 53 B.C. and discovered what every tourist has discovered since: England is an aquarium, not a nation. The Romans managed to colonize us but it was superficial. The true intrusion into our native tongue did not occur until 1066. After that time the words for the enjoyment of life were Latin. The words for labor and games were Anglo-Saxon.
So if you were a lord and sat down to a feast you ate beef. The poor peasant tending what became your meal called it an ox. Calf when it hits the table becomes veal. Sheep becomes mutton, and swine becomes pork. Deer when eaten is venison, and boar is brawn. The division was clear and will be with us as long as English is spoken. The main reason the Anglo-Saxon words survived at all is because the native population was not killed but utilized as workers. The other reason for Anglo-Saxon’s survival is that the people themselves proved more resilient, flexible, and intelligent than William and his progeny could have imagined. These qualities are reflected in the language itself and I’ll get to that when I cover hybrid words. We are an exceedingly creative people, and I mean by “people” all those who speak English as their native language. You can be black, yellow, white, red, or brown, but if you grew up speaking English the language has been imprinted on your brain. You are, in a deep intellectual and creative sense, Anglo-Saxon/Latin. You will seek solutions to problems. Other languages, more conservative ones, accept the problems as given. You must begin to realize what a tremendous advantage this language gives you even if you live in political protest against the governments it has created.
When you create a character you can develop that character through her/his dialogue. An upper-class person will use a more Latinate word pool, more subordinate clauses, and longer, less volatile speech rhythms. A character from the lower classes will use more Anglo-Saxon words, much more colorful speech patterns, and shorter, staccato rhythms unless this character is from the American South. In that case, rich and poor alike are more prone to use the rhythm of the King James Version of the Bible. Here again, the poor character will employ more Anglo-Saxon words and will probably be more emotionally direct.
The intrusion of Latin gave us a reservoir of synonyms unlike anything else in the world. We abound in choices. Unless you are lazy or stupid you can find the precise word in English. These synonyms allow us shadings of class and meaning that can be textured, literally. They can be felt, not just heard.
This is a baby list of parallel words. When the Normans conquered the Anglo-Saxons these words had parallel meanings. As you go down the list you will see how the centuries have pulled apart the synonyms. Some still have equivalent meanings. Many don’t. One could fill an entire book with such lists. I’ve plucked out common words. If you want to test your sense of touch, make sentences using the English word first and then substitute the Latin word.
| OLD ENGLISH/ANGLO-SAXON | LATIN/FRENCH |
| woman | female |
| happiness | felicity |
| hut | cottage |
| bill | beak |
| friendship | amity |
| dress | clothe |
| help | aid |
| folk | people |
| hearty | cordial |
| holy | saint |
| deep | profound |
| lonely | solitary |
| to give/to hand | to present/to deliver |
| darling | favorite |
| love | charity |
| begin | commence |
| hide | conceal |
| feed | nourish |
| hinder | prevent |
| look for | search |
| inner and outer | interior and exterior |
| leave | abandon |
| die | perish |
| mouth | oral |
| nose | nasal |
| eye | ocular |
| mind | mental |
| son | filial |
| house | domicile |
| book | literary |
| moon | lunar |
| sun | solar |
| star | stellar |
| town | urban |
| watery | aquatic |
| heavenly | celestial |
| earthy | terrestrial |
| timely | temporal |
| daily | diurnal |
| truthful | veracious |
| kingly | regal |
| youthful | juvenile |
| weighty | ponderous |
| share | portion |
| wretched | miserable |
| same | identical |
| murder/killing | homicide |
| manly | virile |
| kind | sort |
| tale | story |
| up | ascend |
| put out | extinguish |
| come near | approach |
| unlike | dissimilar |
| freedom | liberty |
| cold | frigid |
| sleeplessness | insomnia |
| half | semi |
Brief though this list is, it gives you an idea of the potential for nuance. Think, too, about deep emotion. If you’ve fallen through the ice you scream “Help!” You do not yell “Aid!” In times of greatest danger or heartbreak, even the most aristocratic of people will revert to Anglo-Saxon. As a writer, remember this, because it is the language of greatest emotive power.
It should be obvious to you that you must learn Latin. It’s not a difficult language but, as in learning anything new, it takes time. Some universities offer crash courses, which means that within a summer you could master the basics of the language. Memorizing the vocabulary takes time but you know a lot of it anyway in its Anglicized form. You ought to learn enough Latin to be able to read Horace and Livy. Okay, Livy’s kind of tough. How about Cicero? Anyone can learn to read Cicero. I’ll be brutally frank: If you don’t know Latin, you don’t know English. If you want to write, you need this tool. Would you dream of becoming a neurosurgeon without a study of anatomy?
Some of you reading this are going to be upset. You think you’re talented. You probably are, but talent is no substitute for intensive training. You can’t sit down at a typewriter and write from your heart and expect it to pay. That’s a little like saying “I love my child who is sick and because I love my child I will operate on her.” Just because you feel something strongly doesn’t mean you can translate it into a form accessible to a reader. You must be trained, and to be trained you must have discipline. Honey, if Latin doesn’t give you discipline, give up. Once you’ve mastered Latin you not only know a great deal about English, you know how to think.
The other thing you must do—and do this only after you can read with some fluency in Latin (won’t take you longer than two years, absolute tops)—is to take a course in Anglo-Saxon. You can fly through it, although the reading, in a funny way, is harder than the Latin. I think that’s because we expect it to be familiar and it turns out to be just familiar enough to throw us off the track. But a semester of Anglo-Saxon will give you a great deal of information about our basic vocabulary and our original grammatical structure. It’s terrific stuff.
If you already know Latin and Anglo-Saxon, bless you. If you’ve learned a modern language as well, praise be—you’re way ahead of me. Scattered like jewels throughout both Latin and Anglo-Saxon are symbols, recurrent themes. I’ll address symbol and myth later, but briefly, the apprehension of symbol will give you power as a writer. A symbol is a kind of literary landmine. Latin and Anglo-Saxon are treasures of these explosives.
If you aren’t willing to study language, then you aren’t willing to be a writer. Writing is honest labor and hard labor at that. You must be trained and you must be disciplined. One brilliant, isolated book does not a writer make. You go out there every day and you work. It’s the difference between the fine country club tennis player and the one who wins Wimbledon. The one who wins Wimbledon works, perfects, struggles, and will play in a hurricane if she has to. The country club player does it when she feels like it. If you aren’t willing to pay the price, don’t bother coming out on the court.
1 David Wallechinsky, Irving Wallace, and Amy Wallace, The Book of Lists (New York: Bantam Books, 1977).