Whenever we get into the prescriptive vs. descriptive theory of language (which Im sure Chris Brecheen could attest happens almost never) I start thinking about this little screed: ...But now really, do not you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world? The nicest—by which I suppose you mean the neatest. That must depend upon the binding. Henry, said Miss Tilney, you are very impertinent. Miss Morland, he is treating you exactly as he does his sister. He is forever finding fault with me, for some incorrectness of language, and now he is taking the same liberty with you. The word nicest, as you used it, did not suit him; and you had better change it as soon as you can, or we shall be overpowered with Johnson and Blair all the rest of the way. I am sure, cried Catherine, I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so? Very true, said Henry, and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything. Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement—people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice. But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word. [Given Henrys character, I can never decide whether these sentiments are those of Ms. Austen, or the exact opposite.]
Posted on: Sat, 16 Aug 2014 19:59:39 +0000
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