Ever since the advent of Google Books some eight
years ago, I’ve been proclaiming the utter obsolescence of the Oxford English
Dictionary (OED), given that anyone anywhere in the world can go to Google
Books any time, and, using its date range function, quickly determine the
earliest published usage of many words in the English language. As I will show you, below, apparently the news
about Google Books has not yet reached the OED, which is a poignant irony,
suggesting that the OED has not yet gotten the proverbial memo.
Two weeks ago, I read a passing mention in a blog
post asserting that the OED credits the first published usage of the noun “boredom”
(but not the related adjective “bored” which came much earlier) to Charles
Dickens in his novel Hard Times. Sure
enough, I Googled and found that the OED Tweeted the following on 9/5/11: “The word 'boredom', in the sense of 'the state of
being bored', was first used by Charles Dickens in Bleak House (1853).”
Given my skeptical attitude toward the OED, I checked
Google Books on this one, and in very short order, I deduced, by my usual
literary sleuthing methods, that Dickens not only was NOT the coiner of the
word “boredom”, but that Dickens had actually tried, eleven “hard” times in
that novel, to tell the reader—in code---who the coiner was. You see, Dickens
used the word “boredom” as a parody of that earlier published author’s original
usage! Read on to find out the identity of that very famous first user, who has
been unjustly ignored by the OED for nearly two centuries!
To begin, although Dickens used the word “boredom”
twice in Hard Times, he used
the word “bored” nine times in the novel as well! And the most curious part of
these eleven usages is that they are ALL used by a single character in the
novel—the dandy and politician, James Harthouse. Here they all are, you will
quickly get the drift of his defining character trait:
‘You must be very much BORED
here?’ was the inference [Harthouse] drew from the communication.
…Now, this gentleman had a
younger brother [Harthouse] of still better appearance than himself, who had
tried life as a Cornet of Dragoons, and found it a BORE; and had afterwards
tried it in the train of an English minister abroad, and found it a BORE; and
had then strolled to Jerusalem, and got BORED there; and had then gone yachting
about the world, and got BORED everywhere.
… ‘I have not so much as the slightest predilection
left. I assure you I attach not the
least importance to any opinions. The result of the varieties of BOREDOM
I have undergone, is a conviction (unless conviction is too industrious a word
for the lazy sentiment I entertain on the subject), that any set of ideas will
do just as much good as any other set, and just as much harm as any other
set. There’s an English family with a charming Italian motto. What
will be, will be. It’s the only truth going!’
… ‘Tom is misanthropical
to-day, as all BORED people are now and then,’ said Mr. Harthouse. ‘Don’t
believe him, Mrs. Bounderby. He knows much better. I shall disclose
some of his opinions of you, privately expressed to me, unless he relents a
little.’
… The
next morning was too bright a morning for sleep, and James Harthouse rose
early, and sat in the pleasant bay window of his dressing-room, smoking the
rare tobacco that had had so wholesome an influence on his young friend.
Reposing in the sunlight, with the fragrance of his eastern pipe about him, and
the dreamy smoke vanishing into the air, so rich and soft with summer odours,
he reckoned up his advantages as an idle winner might count his gains. He
was not at all BORED for the time, and could give his mind to it.
… Mr.
James Harthouse passed a whole night and a day in a state of so much
hurry, that the World, with its best glass in his eye, would scarcely have
recognized him during that insane interval, as the brother Jem of the honourable
and jocular member. He was positively agitated. He several times
spoke with an emphasis, similar to the vulgar manner. He went in and went
out in an unaccountable way, like a man without an object. He rode like a
highwayman. In a word, he was so horribly BORED by existing circumstances,
that he forgot to go in for BOREDOM in the manner prescribed by the
authorities.
…Dear Jack,—All up at
Coketown. BORED out of the place, and going in for camels.
From the above, it is clear why Dickens caught the
eye of the OED in the first place—after all, he had made James Harthouse’s boredom
a leitmotif, the signature comment of this not very sympathetic character, who
was described as follows by Agustin Coletes Blanco in a 1985 scholarly article
that also picked up on the “boredom” drumbeat:
“Harthouse combines the ’indolence
of his manner’ and his ‘accessions of BOREDOM’ with a cultivated languor and a ‘lightness
and smoothness of speech’. Like Bounderby and Mrs Sparsit in their respective
ways, he uses the system for his own ends -till he is adequately disposed of by
Sissy. A sarcastic account of his background is displayed by the author in book
II, chapter 2. He belongs to the kind of people who ‘yaw-yawned’ in their
speech, ‘in imitation of fine gentlemen’. Before “'going in' for statistics”,
he had tried life ‘as a Cornet of Dragoons, and found it a BORE; and had then
strolled to Jerusalem, and got BORED there; and had gone yatching about the
world, and got BORED everywhere’. In short, he is both the aristocratic
counterpart of the Utilitarians and a social parasite. Once again, his speech
will be in accord with his personality….”
But here’s the funny part---because of what I had found
in Google Books when I first checked for the earliest usage of “boredom”, I already knew in my gut who the
fictional James Harthouse was a parody of! You see, the novel which first used “boredom”
was entitled The Young Duke,
it was published in 1829 (24 years before Hard
Times), and here is the relevant passage:
“The House
had just broken up, and the political members had just entered, and in
clusters, some standing and some yawning, some stretching their arms and some
stretching their legs, presented symptoms of an escape from BOREDOM.”
Did you
also notice that this usage occurred in a passage about politicians? And isn’t
Dickens’s James Harthouse also a politician in the House of Commons? Hmm….
And now I will
put you out of your misery, and finally reveal to you the name of the author of
The Young Duke—it was a young
politician who dabbled all his life in writing fiction as well as making a rather
greater name for himself as a politician, achieving the pinnacle in 1868 (two
years before Dickens died) of the Prime Ministership---Benjamin D’Israeli!!!!
And so I
was not in the slightest surprised this evening when a quick further Google Books
search revealed the following scholarly observation, which, as far as I can
tell, was not based on the keyword “boredom”, but on character-driven analysis:
The Alien in their
Midst: images of Jews in English literature by Esther
L. Panitz, 1981
P. 112: “James Harthouse of Hard Times was a caricature of that dandy who
helped shape England's destiny, Benjamin Disraeli….”
So, why
would Dickens parody D’Israeli? That’s a topic for a full article in itself,
but to give you a taste of an answer, read the following 2012 blog post by
Peter G. Hilston, who definitely had no idea about the “boredom” connection:
“Dickens and Disraeli on
discontent”
For those who don’t want
to read his whole post, here are the relevant highlights:
“I recently read “Hard
Times” (1854), Charles Dickens’s only attempt at a novel about the industrial
north of England, set in a cotton-manufacturing city he calls “Coketown”.
Opinions of the novel have differed widely: in George Orwell’s long
essay on Dickens we are told that the great Victorian historian Lord
Macaulay refused to review the book because of what he saw as its “sullen
socialism”, whereas Lenin was revolted by Dickens’s “bourgeois sentimentality”.
In my opinion, Lenin was much closer to the mark than Macaulay. I found it a
deeply irritating book, with a ramshackle plot, ridiculous characters, and a
complete absence of any ideas for remedying the faults and abuses Dickens
portrayed. As a corrective I reread a contemporary novel covering similar
ground: “Sybil” (1845) by Benjamin Disraeli. I would like here to compare and
contrast the two books.
...Let us turn to Benjamin
Disraeli: the only British Prime Minister to have been also the author of
several novels. In the 1840s, when he was already a Tory Member of Parliament
(at this point representing Shrewsbury, in Shropshire) he produced a trilogy:
“Coningsby”, “Sybil” and “Tancred”; the third being the least satisfactory. His
motives for writing were mixed. In the first place, he needed the money: for most
of his career he was plagued by debts, which at this time amounted to about
£20,000 - at least half a million in today’s terms. Secondly, there were
political ideas he wished to put forward, and which he does at length in the
trilogy. He was associated with a group of youthful aristocrats known as “Young
England”. Their theories sound very silly nowadays, but at the time they were
considered important enough for Karl Marx to jeer at them in the “Communist
Manifesto”. Particularly they were hostile to their Conservative party leader,
Sir Robert Peel (Prime Minister 1841-46), whom they accused of betraying old
Tory principles. Disraeli, who was neither an aristocrat nor young (he was born
in 1804, eight years before Dickens) produced such ringing phrases as “A
Conservative government is an organised hypocrisy”, and, in “Coningsby”, “A
sound Conservative government - Tory men and Whig measures”. In 1846 Disraeli
was to play a leading role in splitting the party and bringing down Peel’s
government: an action which left the Conservatives without a Parliamentary
majority for the next thirty years.
Most of Disraeli’s novels centre upon an upper-class young man making his way in politics and high society; “Sybil” being the only one where he ventured to set scenes in the industrial north.
Most of Disraeli’s novels centre upon an upper-class young man making his way in politics and high society; “Sybil” being the only one where he ventured to set scenes in the industrial north.
…Disraeli’s characters,
though not as memorably depicted as Dickens’s, are much more believable as
people…Rather surprisingly, there is more overt Christianity in Disraeli’s
novel than in Dickens’s: Disraeli portrays Walter Gerard and his daughter as
dedicated Catholics, and among his minor characters there is a strong-minded
vicar who is prepared to stand up to the upper-class bullies.
As an experienced politician, Disraeli knew how things actually worked, whereas Dickens never bothered to find out, but simply took refuge in satire. Dickens is contemptuous of Parliament and dismisses M.P.s as “national dustmen”; though many today would see the time as a golden age of political giants: Palmerston and the young Gladstone, as well as Peel and Disraeli himself. Dickens is thus incapable of matching the lethal scene where Disraeli portrays Peel (called simply “the gentleman in Downing Street”) instructing his factotum, who is given the thoroughly Dickensian name of Hoaxem, to give two completely contradictory messages to two different visiting delegations, and particularly to be “ “Frank and explicit”: that is the right line to take when you wish to conceal your own mind and to confuse the minds of others.” This is far more damaging than Dickens’s crude abuse!” END QUOTE FROM HILSTON BLOG POST
As an experienced politician, Disraeli knew how things actually worked, whereas Dickens never bothered to find out, but simply took refuge in satire. Dickens is contemptuous of Parliament and dismisses M.P.s as “national dustmen”; though many today would see the time as a golden age of political giants: Palmerston and the young Gladstone, as well as Peel and Disraeli himself. Dickens is thus incapable of matching the lethal scene where Disraeli portrays Peel (called simply “the gentleman in Downing Street”) instructing his factotum, who is given the thoroughly Dickensian name of Hoaxem, to give two completely contradictory messages to two different visiting delegations, and particularly to be “ “Frank and explicit”: that is the right line to take when you wish to conceal your own mind and to confuse the minds of others.” This is far more damaging than Dickens’s crude abuse!” END QUOTE FROM HILSTON BLOG POST
In conclusion, it is a final irony of the above that Dickens and Disraeli, by virtue of an irony of surname spelling, have entries one after the other in The Oxford Companion to Charles Dickens.
If you read Disraeli’s
entry on p.181 thereof, you will learn that Disraeli, when asked in 1857 whether
he had ever read anything by Dickens, replied in the negative, “except extracts
in the newspaper.”
I am not sure I believe D’Israeli
on that one, but if it’s true, then that’s a good thing, I suppose, because I
don’t think “boredom” would have described his response had he seen himself in
the character of the “bored” James Harthouse in Hard Times!
Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter
P.S.: I am Tweeting the
link for this post to the OED, let’s see if they change their entry and
acknowledge me for pointing out their error.
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