I’m a word geek; on occasions I can be an annoyingly pedantic one, especially when it comes to definitions, although I accept I’m prone to inconsistencies when it comes to changing usage. Thankfully, I’ve been lucky enough to fall into a profession where it’s useful to be interested in words. That said, I can still spend a happy hour or more flicking through the pages of a dictionary, which I accept isn’t everyone’s idea of a good time.
For evidence of my innate word geekiness, you need look no further than my choice of memento while helping clear out the old family home after my mum’s death four years ago. I opted for a copy of The New Elizabethan Reference Dictionary; a thick, hardback tome that had been on one of the living room bookshelves since before I was born. Referred to reverentially in childhood, when its very thickness and weight had imbued it with sturdy authority, that book’s still a source of leisurely interest to me today.
OK, so it’s not one of the Oxford Dictionaries which have become the default benchmark in my professional life. But, thanks to its scale and appearance—1,870 pages (not counting the full colour maps), with letter indents for ease of use, decorated endpapers with maps showing the distribution of the world’s main languages, plus an encyclopedic section covering mathematics, foreign phrases and even medical and housekeeping advice—this New Elizabethan retains a special place in my affections.
I’m not exactly sure when this particular dictionary, (edited by Peter Finch MA and published by George Newnes Ltd of Long Acre, London) first appeared; nor do I have any real knowledge of its history or antecedents, beyond its publisher’s reputation in technical and engineering subjects. One Amazon listing suggests it was published in 1956, which feels right, given that its very title implies it was compiled (or at least published) during the early years of our current British monarch’s reign, when some were romantically hoping for a “New Elizabethan Age”.
An obvious consequence of this is that the New Elizabethan is no longer the “up-to-date vocabulary of the living English language” as claimed on its title page. More than six decades have passed. Yet I’d argue that this doesn’t diminish its use and value: actually, the passage of time enhances it. Partly, this is because the New Elizabethan is also an etymological dictionary, and the origins of words don’t change; mainly, it proves through constant examples how “the living English language” has changed and evolved within a lifetime.
As a recent editorial in The Guardian reminds us, old dictionaries “contain a piquant history”. The New Elizabethan is no different; it’s a snapshot of a time when its compilers passed on including computer but did think its users might need to know the word for “a native captain in an Indian regiment of cavalry”. (That’s ressaldar, by the way.) Welfare was defined solely in terms of “prosperity, health, well-being, (and) success” rather than anything specific to do with State support. And, if you were hoping to have a giggle over rude words, you’ll need to go elsewhere; shit does appear, but only in reference to excrement.
If the lack of computers now seems bizarre, it’s worth pointing out that the New Elizabethan nevertheless includes far more scientific and technical terminology than a comparable dictionary would probably do today, covering everything from aeronautics to zoology. So despite that lack of IT, flicking through its pages does give you a sense of it having been compiled for a world where knowing things and making stuff were thought to be far more important than they perhaps are now.
