by Ammon Shea
More than two dozen of Shakespeare’s plays are quoted in illustrating set. Other works cited range from the magnificence of Tennyson, Austen, and Chaucer to the slightly more obscure, such as the line from Sir Richard Steele’s 1702 work The Tatler: “The new Man has broke his Leg, which is so ill set, that he can never dance more.”
Before I exhort you any further to go out and read this OED entry in its entirety, I should perhaps mention that it took me three attempts before I was able to read it fully. And after the third attempt, when I had finally succeeded, did I feel a surge of triumph or accomplishment? No, I felt like I was going to vomit, and sat in the library with my head poised over the wastebasket for some time before the urge passed. It is admittedly a great deal of information on a single word, and I would not blame anyone for not wanting to read the whole thing.
But one of the things that irks lexicographers the most is that the common words—the ones that require the greatest expenditure of effort to define—are the same words that are looked up the most infrequently. However, anyone can sit down and leaf through set without any undue fear of overdosing on the definition. If you are not interested in reading it for your own edification then you should read it as a silent tribute to all the lexicographers who slaved away for untold thousands of hours crafting this very long definition for this very short word.
Safety-firster (n.) A person who is unwilling to take risks.
One of the many joys of reading the OED lies in tracing the way a word or phrase will change over the course of time. The expression “Safety first” apparently came about in the nineteenth century in the American railroad industry, and was adopted in Britain by a number of campaigns that were seeking to improve safety in various areas. In the early twentieth century there is a quote telling of corporations that have adopted this slogan and admiringly says that they “have done great work in accident prevention.” Other quotes from that era are similarly laudatory.
But soon enough it is clear that the meaning of this expression is shifting. Agatha Christie wrote in 1936, “The moment you begin . . . adopting as your motto ‘Safety First’ you might as well be dead.” Other quotes from this era begin to use the term safety-firster, and by now it has gone from being a byword for conscientious and watchful to being listed in the OED as describing some variety of coward.
Salvo (n.) An intentionally bad excuse.
As opposed to the current common meaning of salvo (a firing of artillery), this older sense refers to the excuse you give your boss when you are trying to get yourself fired.
Sansculottic (adj.) Clothed inadequately, or in some improper fashion.
All the world knows of the sansculottes (“without knee
breeches”), the militant participants in the French Revolution.
It is oddly sad that their name went from inspiring fear and
awe to becoming a way to describe a guy who ought to put his
shirt back on.
also see: debag, misclad
Sarcast (n.) A writer or speaker who is sarcastic.
Like sarcasm, sarcast comes from the Greek sarkazein (to tear flesh like dogs).
Sardonian (n.) “One who flatters with deadly intent.” (OED)
The OED explains that this word comes from the Latin term
for the “Sardinian plant” (herba Sardonia), which purportedly
killed those who ate it, after producing in them convulsions
that appeared to mimic laughter.
also see: elozable
Scrouge (v.) To inconvenience or discomfort a person by pressing against him or her or by standing too close.
For passengers of modern transportation everywhere, this word has tremendous and unfortunate resonance. It falls firmly within the category of words that one wishes one did not have occasion to use on a daily basis, but are fascinating nonetheless.
Scrupulant (n.) A person who is overly conscientious about confessing his or her sins.
Nobody likes people who are too eager to confess each and every one of their sins; it becomes tedious after a while, even to the clergy. This is powerfully emphasized by the citation for this word, taken from the Journal of Theological Studies in 1961, which stresses that when dealing with a scrupulant one should “persuade him of the pathological element of his personality.”
Selfist (n.) A person who is selfish or self-centered.
Selfists are nasty little people—it is fitting that they should have a nasty little word to describe them.
Semese (adj.) Half-eaten.
To say you’ll be serving semese sounds so much less appetizing than to declare it leftovers night.
Sequacious (adj.) Prone to following the thoughts and opinions of others in a fashion that is slavish and unreasoning.
Common in the seventeenth century, and still used in the eighteenth and nineteenth, sequacious appears to have been largely absent over the past hundred years or so. The behavior it describes remains unfortunately all too common. also see: psittacism
Sesquihoral (adj.) Lasting an hour and a half.
Because sometimes you just don’t feel like saying “an hour and a half.”
Short-thinker (n.) One whose thoughts do not carry him far into a subject.
Short-thinkers really shine at cocktail parties, and not much else.
Shot-clog (n.) “An unwelcome companion tolerated because he pays the shot for the rest.” (OED)
I have seen this word defined elsewhere as being specifically someone who is tolerated because he or she is paying for the drinks. The OED seems to define it in a broader sense, but in any event everyone should know at least one or two shot-clogs.
Sialoquent (n.) “That spits much in his speech.” (Thomas Bount, Glossographia, 1656)
One wants to feel pity for the sialoquent, for he typically is unaware that his words are borne aloft by chariots of his own sputum, but it is a difficult thing to do, particularly if he happens to be standing within spitting distance.
Silentiary (n.) An official whose job it is to command silence.
I would like to have my very own silentiary, someone I can bring to the library and to the apartment next door.
Sitzfleisch (n.) The ability to endure in some activity.
I am always careful to pack a can of sitzfleisch whenever I have
to go to the post office or visit a friend who wants to show me
his entire collection of baby pictures.
also see: pertolerate
Solivagant (n.) A person who wanders about alone.
The citations for solivagant create a portrait of a lone walker
who is a tramp or vagrant. Which reminds me of when I lived
in Southern California, a car culture capital, and didn’t know
how to drive. At first I was offended that drivers looked
askance at me as I made my way around town on foot, until I
realized that the only other walkers in Southern California
seem to be either indigent or insane.
also see: vicambulist
Somnificator (n.) One who induces sleep in others.
Just what everyone needs: the human equivalent of a cup of herbal tea.
Stomaching (n.) A cherishing of indignation or bitterness.
I hadn’t known that stomach, as a verb, meant both “to take
offense at” and “to endure without complaint.” But it does,
and the first of these two senses has happily given rise to the
malignant splendor of the word stomaching.
also see: ill-willy
Storge (n.) Instinctive affection, especially such as parents have for their children.
Surely no parent would tolerate his child’s adolescence were it
not for this inherent ability to like someone who is so often
unlikable.
also see: antipelargy
Subtrist (adj.) Slightly sad.
I suppose there is really not much difference between this
&n
bsp; word and many others, such as glum or melancholy. But I like
the way subtrist looks and sounds, and all the other Romance
languages seem to have fashionable words like triste, which
elegantly convey sadness with a Continental flair. Sometimes
a word does not have to have a special meaning—it’s enough
simply to like its style.
also see: avidulous
Superarrogate (v.) To act with tremendous arrogance.
Superarrogate is interesting for two reasons—it describes
arrogance of a superior order, and it functions as a verb, which
arrogant by itself fails to do.
also see: testiculous
Superchery (n.) Foul play; an attack made against one who is at a disadvantage.
A twenty-five-cent word for a cheap shot.
also see: barla-fumble
Superfidel (adj.) Overly credulous; believing too much.
Contrary to what one might reasonably believe, superfidel does not refer to a cigar-smoking communist superhero from Cuba. Though perhaps it could be applied to his followers. also see: gobemouche
Supersaliency (n.) “The leaping of the male for the act of copulation.” (OED)
Were this word to be used in a figurative sense it would seem perhaps immoderately effusive, and were it used literally it would seem to be potentially dangerous, so I’m not quite sure how it should be employed. But so singular a description as this must have a use somewhere, if only on Animal Planet. also see: tripudiate
Supervacaneous (adj.) Vainly added over and above what is needed.
This word is in some way an example of itself, a redundant way of saying redundant, with a touch of vanity thrown in for good measure.
Surfeited (adj.) Oppressed or disordered by eating too much.
Surfeited lacks any of the pleasant connotations that are occasionally implied when someone finishes his meal and says “I’m stuffed.” It simply means that you ate too much and now feel sick and dumb. also see: obligurate, residentarian
Swasivious (adj.) Persuasive in an agreeable fashion.
The definition for swasivious would, on its face, seem a bit redundant. After all, I cannot think of a word to describe someone who is disagreeably persuasive.
Sympatetic (n.) A companion one walks with.
I found sympatetic hiding in the middle of a list of words under the prefix sym-. Discoveries like this one are what make reading the OED from cover to cover worthwhile.
T
LANGUAGES CHANGE. I HAVE KNOWN THIS for some time, but I did not fully appreciate how much and how rapidly our language changes until I began to read the OED.
For instance, I’d become so used to seeing the word paraphernalia with the word drug in front of it that I’d more or less assumed that the former had always been linked with the latter, and that it was probably of recent vintage, perhaps from the 1960s. However, it turns out that paraphernalia dates to at least the fifteenth century, and originally referred to the possessions of her own that a woman was allowed to keep when she entered into marriage. Paraphernalia doesn’t even exist in the print edition of the OED in relation to drugs or drug use, although it has been included in the ongoing edit of the online version.
I snickered like my twelve-year-old self, looking up the dirty words in the dictionary, when I discovered that the original meaning of fizzle was to fart silently. It was the only meaning of fizzle for about three hundred years, beginning in the sixteenth century. And I found renewed appreciation for the word docile, which I’d assumed had always meant “easily cowed,” when I found that its original meaning was “teachable.”
I’ve discovered not only that words shift their meanings, or end up meaning something completely different; often it turns out that they are far older than I had thought, or far younger. Ye olde, that linguistic blister that afflicts the signs of so many touristy shops hawking prefabricated knickknacks made to look antique, apparently did not enter our language until the end of the nineteenth century. And its deformed cousin shoppe has its first written citation in 1933.
I was particularly surprised when I saw that scumbag (as used to describe an unpleasant person) entered the written language in 1971, not only because I thought the term had been introduced much earlier, but also because I have been assured by my parents that I was using this expression quite volubly and clearly in 1972, while still in diapers. Which means that either I was extremely up-to -date in my use of pejorative slang or extraordinarily profane at a young age—or both.
It was not terribly surprising to see that disrespect has existed as a noun since the early seventeenth century, but I had no idea that it was used as a verb even earlier. My impression was that “to disrespect” someone was African American urban slang from the 1980s, but I was off by at least a hundred years. And while I have my doubts as to whether there is a correlation between Spoonie Gee’s use of dis in “Spoonin’ Rap” circa 1980 (“Ya wanna be dissed and then ya wanna be a crook / Ya find a old lady, take her pocketbook”) and George Meredith’s use of disrespect in Beauchamp’s Career circa 1876 (“Treating her . . . like a disrespected grandmother”) , I’d like to at least entertain the possibility that there is.
Tacenda (n.) Things not to be mentioned; matters that are passed over in silence.
The incident with the broccoli. Your Aunt Tilly’s first husband. Where that scar really came from. also see: nefandous
Tacturiency (n.) The desire of touching.
The desire to touch something, rather than simply look at it, is probably responsible for more dissolved marriages than all other desires combined. Stick with visuriency (the desire of seeing).
Tardiloquent (adj.) Talking slowly.
In my estimation, there are only two possible reasons people speak slowly. Either they are not quite bright enough to get the words out any faster or they think you aren’t quite bright enough to understand them any other way. In either case you’re stuck in a conversation with someone who is tardiloquent , and something has gone horribly wrong.
Terriculament (v.) To inspire one with groundless fear.
Whether it’s your parents telling you that your features will
get stuck like that if you keep making that face or insurance
companies telling you that a person your age dies every thirteen
seconds, it seems like someone is always out there terriculamenting.
us.
also see: indread
Testiculous (adj.) Having large testicles.
For this word the OED cites Nathan Bailey’s dictionary of 1721,
which memorably defines it as “that hath great cods.” While it is
clear what sense Bailey is using cods, it is not clear whether he
intends testiculous to be used in a literal or figurative fashion. As
a companion word of sorts, one could also employ the word
chalcenterous (having bowels made of bronze; tough).
also see: superarrogate
Thelyphthoric (adj.) Morally corruptive or ruinous to women.
When I was studying Latin in high school, we used to amuse ourselves by looking up the dirty words in the Latin-English dictionary. It was easy—they were the only entries for which the headword and definition both were provided in Latin, a means of protecting our impressionable young minds that was as subtle as an exclamation writ large that said, “Kids, do not look here.” I don’t really think the OED editors are doing the same thing here, but it’s hard to be certain when they define a word in this way and then refuse to provide any specific examples of what they are talking about.
Toe-cover (n.) A present that is both useless and inexpensive.
We all know that it’s the thought that counts, but sometimes part of that thought should be not giving a useless present that you picked up at the corner store at the last minute. also see: wonderclout
Tricoteuse (n.) A woman who knits; specifically, a woman who during the Fr
ench Revolution would attend the guillotinings and knit while the heads were rolling.
What I’ve learned from reading the OED has not been confined to vocabulary. I’ve also learned a good deal about the history of the unpleasantness of the human race, including the portrait of this unsympathetic character, the knitter who attends beheadings.
Tripudiate (v.) To dance, skip, or leap with excitement.
Although I might have trouble dancing and skipping with joy (or admitting that I did), I would have no qualms about tripudiating , which somehow sounds a bit more dignified. also see: supersaliency
Trumpery (n.) “Something of less value than it seems.” (Samuel Johnson, A Dictionary of the English Language, 1755)
Like your car.
also see: wonderclout
Turkish (v.) To transform something, especially for the worse.
I’d assumed that the OED, having been largely written in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, would be filled with all sorts of racist and otherwise offensive words. There are very few of them, however, and it is not clear whether this is due to the editors not wanting to offend or if they merely didn’t think the words were qualified for inclusion. For instance, frenchified is listed, but without the sense that is given in a number of other dictionaries: “to be afflicted with a venereal disease.”
Twi-thought (n.) A vague or indistinct thought.
My head is filled with twi-thoughts these days, and all are variations on a single theme: that word I’ve forgotten, the one flitting around somewhere in the back of my head, teasing my lips and not quite coming close enough to remember. also see: velleity
U
REACHING THE LETTER U, I feel for the first time that the end is in sight. I have decidedly mixed feelings about this, for along with these first glimmers of hope come the first glimmers of fear. What on earth will I read when I finish reading the OED? I still have thousands more pages to read, so I do not have to worry much yet about not having a book to read, and furthermore, I have to get through the massive lexicographic expanse that is un-.
When I told Alix that I was about to begin reading un- she groaned and said, "Oh, no, that’s the biggest S-E section in the whole dictionary!” in a tone that made it sound like she was describing crossing a desert, not turning the pages of a book. "S-E,” I soon learn, is lexicographic slang for “self-explanatory.” Any un-word is judged to be self-explanatory if the un- modifies a word that is defined elsewhere in the dictionary and a reasonably conscientious reader can figure out its meaning. Apparently, when she’d worked for Merriam-Webster, Alix had had to define (or not define) all these words, and she recalled the experience with mixed emotions.
