What's the Bad Word?

You're at this cocktail party, and you and four other guys are off in one corner yacking it up. It seems that all of you have some pretty terrific jokes to unload – some proper, some not so proper – and you are quite a spectacular island of jollity.

Needless to say, some girl sidles up and joins the circle.

"Let me in on the fun," she says brightly. "What was that about the blind man and the Siamese twins?"

And right away everything is different – not so much because she busted in on the middle of something, but because she is a woman. The jokes get cleaner or dirtier, depending on the girl. One thing is inescapable: she is a catalyst; she changes things.

Now, it happens that one of the men is a philologist, a student of language, and he resents this power of women to prance in and change things. Matter of fact, she had interrupted his prize joke. Consequently, he is very bitter.

"You females have a talent for lousing things up," he says ungallantly. "Including the very language we speak. For instance, do you know what a harlot is?"

Somewhat taken aback, the young lady bravely replies that she does.

"But do you know what a harlot used to be?" the language buff inquires. "No, you do not." And he then proceeds to expatiate on a strange fact about the English language: again and again, when a word describes a woman, it starts out with an innocent, or even a lofty, connotation; then, as the centuries go by, it becomes debased.

In the 14th Century the word harlot was applied often to men; it had no very bad sense and meant simply a fellow. "He was a gentil harlot and a kind," Chaucer writes. Then the women took it over, and look what happened to it.

The word wench has much the same history. At first it meant an infant of either sex. Because it also implied weakness, it became attached to the female alone; and from that time on it went downhill. A present-day wench is generally full-grown, but not the sort of girl you'd bring home for Sunday dinner.

Or take the word madam. It stems from the Latin mea domina, "my lady," and was at one time a title of great respect. Nowadays a madam can be the boss of a disreputable business establishment.

A courtesan was originally a respectable female member of court circles. After a while she was not so respectable. Likewise, mistress was once an honorable title. Again, in less-exalted social circles, Middle English huswife, meaning a perfectly ordinary housewife, has become the modern hussy, an insolent woman. Or the word tart. It used to be a term of endearment – something sugary and tasty, like an apple tart.

"If you think that's what it means today," the philologist concludes triumphantly, "you move in strange circles. And there you have it – you women are pulling the language right into the gutter."

The young lady bursts into tears, "Gee, you make me feel terrible," she sobs. "How can I ever live this down? How can I ever find out what happened to the blind man and the Siamese twins?"

Actually, she is much more distressed than need be. The angry philologist did not dwell on the fact, but, curiously enough, the opposite linguistic process has also been at work: words that used to have most unflattering connotations about women have now become altogether harmless.

For instance, let us suppose, you lucky stiff, that a bevy of cute, pretty girls, all in lace, allure and enchant you with their charms and inveigle you to their quarters. Now, there's nothing in that sentence that could alarm you; in fact, it all sounds very pleasant. But a few centuries ago such a statement would (concluded on page 95) Bad Word (continued from page 37) have been literally horrifying. You would have been scared to death.

Right off, the word bevy would cause you to wonder what you were getting into. In Latin bibere meant to drink. This became beivre in Old French, and entered English as bevee, a group of drinkers. It gradually changed to mean a company of "roes, larks, quails, and ladies." But in those days a bevy was more likely to be a gang of drunks.

Pretty and cute would put you on your guard. A "pretty" girl was one who was sly, cunning or crafty, and a "cute" one was clever or shrewd. Such a girl was definitely interested in getting the best of you. If you knew a little Latin, their lace was another reason to worry: it comes, by way of Old French las, from the Latin laqueum, a snare or noose. "Lasso" has the same root. And your fears are borne out by allure: from Old French aleurrer, to entice into a snare. So far, some crafty lushes are scheming to put your head in a noose.

And then, when you find that you are to be enchanted with charms, you are really frightened, because you realize that you are dealing with witches – and witches were nothing to fool around with in the Middle Ages. A girl who enchanted (Latin incantare) you in those days was literally putting a wicked spell on you. She was using black magic, exercising the evil arts, and practicing her charms: from Latin carmen, a song, which soon came to mean a magic incantation like the song of the Lorelei or the Sirens, to lure you to your doom. Man, you're in deep!

In fact, you're about to be inveigled: from the French aveugler, to blind or delude. Totally bamboozled, totally under their spell, you let this passel of witches drag you off to their pad and make use of you in their hideous rites. You have, in a word, had it.

That is, if you were living in the Middle Ages. Living today, you probably had a very interesting evening; and if there was any possession, it wasn't by evil spirits.

So a sentence can mean one thing at one time, and something entirely different a few centuries earlier or later. So what? How can we blame the ladies for this?

Well, of course, we can't. The courtesans and tarts of one century are the cute enchantresses of the next; and, by and large, the ladies break about even. They don't pull the language down; on the other hand, they don't ennoble it either. The simple fact is that words change their meanings as time goes by, and the most you can say is that when women are involved, there is going to be a lot of action.