Of all the words in the English language, few have had more varied careers than nice. Its meaning has altered more often than that of most other words, and it has always borne several different meanings simultaneously. It was once a verbal chameleon, whose instability might have threatened its survival; it is now much overworked, and has sunk to the verbal equivalent of a food extender, or flavouring 101.
Currently, nice has two main meanings. The more common is agreeable (generally in a somewhat diluted sense); the other is fine, narrow, subtle, as in a nice question, a nice distinction.
Nice originally meant stupid. It derives from the Latin nescius, meaning ignorant. It is thus closely related to nescient (ignorant) and nescience (lack of knowledge, ignorance). Its progress from there to its two current meanings is a matter of conjecture. But the course of its progress can be charted by noting the 15 principal definitions given it in the OED2, with the dates of the earliest and latest quotations supplied by the OED2 as illustrating those meanings:
1 foolish, stupid, senseless (1290 to 1560);
2 wanton, loose-mannered, lascivious (1325 to 1606); (of dress) extravagant, flaunting (1430 to 1540); very trim, elegant or smart (1483 to 1540);
3 strange, rare, uncommon (1430 to 1555);
4 slothful, lazy, indolent (1440 to 1604); effeminate, unmanly (1573 to 1681); tender, delicate (1562 to 1710); over-refined, luxurious (1621 to 1720);
5 coy, shy, affectedly modest (1400 to 1634); reluctant, unwilling (1560 to 1676);
6 to make it nice to display reserve or reluctance; to make a scruple (1530 to 1677);
7 fastidious, dainty, difficult to please in matters of food or cleanliness; refined (1551 to 1782); particular, precise, strict (1584 to 1861); fastidious in matters of literary taste (1628 to 1770); precise or strict in matters of reputation or conduct; punctilious, scrupulous, sensitive (1647 to 1887); refined, cultured (1603 to 1874);
8 requiring or involving great precision, accuracy or minuteness (1513 to 1840);
9 not obvious or readily apprehended; difficult to decide (1513 to 1885); minute, subtle (1561 to 1870); precise, exact, fine (1710 to 1867);
10 slender, thin (1590 to 1604); unimportant, trivial (1592 to 1601);
11 critical, doubtful, full of danger or uncertainty (1596 to 1682); delicate, needing tactful handling (1617 to 1777);
12 entering minutely into detail, attentive, close (1589 to 1864); (of the senses) able to distinguish or discriminate in a high degree (1586 to 1873); (of judgment) finely discriminative (1597 to 1845); delicate or skilful in manipulation (1711 to 1807);
13 minutely or carefully accurate (1599 to 1875);
14 (of food) dainty, appetizing (especially of a cup of tea!) (1712 to 1974); and
15 agreeable, a source of pleasure or satisfaction (1796 to 1975).
It is interesting to note how many senses of the word were current in Shakespeare’s time. So far as we know, his plays were written between 1592 and 1605. During that time, quotations from the OED2 suggest that nice was being used in all of the meanings set out above other than 1, 3, 14, and 15. According to the quotations given by the OED2, Shakespeare used the word in each of senses 2, 6, 10, 11, and 13.
Perhaps because the word was such a chameleon during the time he was writing, Shakespeare used it sparingly. In total, he used nice in 24 of his 42 plays, where it appears only 33 times. This is no mean feat, since it might be thought difficult to use a word at all which simultaneously meant wanton, lascivious, scrupulous, trivial, and minutely accurate. By comparison, Wilde used nice 15 times in A Woman of No Importance. That play was written in 1893, by which time the meaning of nice had stabilised to the two which are currently understood, and context makes the intended meaning quite plain. In this simple comparison, there is a point to be made in the argument between the conservatives and the language libertarians.
In that happy group which dabbles in language, one of the main philosophical divisions concerns tolerance of change. The conservatives and the libertarians wage war with lexicographers and each other about whether words should be allowed to change meaning, and whether dictionaries should dignify ignorant change by recording it. H.W. Fowler was the most vocal of conservatives. He watched the battle between ignorant usage and semantic purity, constantly tending the wounds of the injured, and lighting candles for the victims. The Macquarie Dictionary (produced by Macquarie University in Australia) is sometimes attacked as a haven for the libertarians, as it notes without censure the most ignorant misuse alongside the original meaning. See, for example, its note in the third edition under the entry for fulsome: ‘the shift in meaning of this word from “offensive to good taste” to “lavish, unstinted” offends some writers but seems to have gained acceptance with the majority’. Nicely put.
Shakespeare’s relatively sparing use of nice illustrates the point that a word whose meaning is ambiguous is likely to be shunned by those who would make their meaning clear. This is probably the most powerful argument of the language conservatives: if change is tolerated without restraint or censure, the stock of useful words is diminished. As words are used in a sense not previously recognised, it becomes more difficult to use the word with any confidence that your meaning will be received intact. Despite the Macquarie’s comforting verdict, I would hesitate to use fulsome for any purpose, except to be ironic or mischievous; likewise vagary, which is now often used to mean vagueness; and disinterested, which is wrongly used to mean uninterested. There are many other words that cannot now be used with confidence, because it is likely that their meaning will be confused with that of another because of repeated misuse. Examples are alternate (thought to mean alternative); emotive (thought to mean emotional); decimate (thought to mean destroy); congenial (thought to mean genial); exponential (thought to mean rapid); dimension (thought to mean size, scale, or some other ill-defined characteristic); and exotic (thought to mean anything unusual).
The Macquarie Dictionary is an admirable record of the current state of Australian English. Whether you find the current state of the language satisfactory or not is a matter of taste; whether you consider the Macquarie’s approach to lexicography right or not is likewise a matter of taste. Whether you venture an opinion about these things in public depends on your willingness to provoke others to heated argument. If anyone asks your opinion of the Macquarie, it is quite safe to say ‘nice work’ (if they don’t get it).
Have a nice day.