A correspondent and occasional commenter writes:
I was catching up on some back issues of the TLS this morning and in the issue of March 4 I found the following sentence in a review by Blair Worden, Emeritus Fellow of St. Edmunds Hall at Oxford, of a book on the English civil war: “Keay (a former curator of Historic Royal Palaces and English Heritage, and now Director of the Landmark Trust) afforces her graphic and shrewdly observed characterizations with a range of expertise in the physical texture of the past.”
What caught me eye, as you can probably guess, is the verb “afforce.” Like you, I have worked as a copyeditor for many years, and I read a lot in general, and although it’s possible that I’ve encountered this word before, I can’t remember doing so. The meaning is obvious from the context, but I (and I suspect most people) would probably have written “reinforces” instead. So I looked up afforce in the OED, and it has a curious history. The basic sense (apply force to) is clear from the roots, and from the 14th to the 16th century it was used with a variety of now obsolete meanings: to exert oneself, to compel, to rape. The meaning in the sentence above, to strengthen or reinforce (sense 3 in the OED) is illustrated by examples from the 15th and 16th centuries, but then there is a gap until the end of the 19th century, and the OED editors have added a note: “Apparently unattested between the mid 16th and late 19th centuries. Later examples should probably be regarded as extended uses of sense 4.” That sense 4 is a technical legal sense, “to reinforce or strengthen a deliberative body; esp. to add a member or members to a jury when the original jurors cannot agree on a majority verdict.” In this sense, it is apparently a borrowing from Anglo-Norman and unattested in English until the late 18th century, when it begins to show up in the works of historians writing about legal practice in late mediaeval Britain.
So the implication seems to be that the use of the word in a more general or metaphorical sense by some contemporary writers is a consequence of its rediscovery and appropriation, after a gap of several centuries, in the the work of 19th-century legal historians. This idea is stated more explicitly in an article in Modern Language Notes 47 (1932) 371-376 (which I found by doing a quick JSTOR search for the word) entitled “The Influence of Legal Research in Broadening English Vocabulary,” by Elsie Shanks, who writes “Besides reintroducing words which were formerly a part of the English vocabulary, historico-legal activity has familiarized students of medieval law with certain words which were apparently not adopted in English at the time they were current in Anglo-Norman, but which have been more or less freely used by writers of the present day. The verb afforce … and its derivative noun afforcement illustrate such an adoption.”
What I’d like to know now is whether the general use of “afforce” in the sense of “reinforce, strengthen [an argument or example],” as in the review quoted above, is at all common outside this very specific legal and historical context. As I say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, and although I have found a few instances in JSTOR and Google Books, searches are complicated by the fact that most of the recent Google hits are legal dictionaries, and many of the others are OCR misreadings of the phrase “of force.” I’d be interested to know if you or your readers have encountered it in the wild more frequently than I have.
(I have added italics and links as appropriate.) I too have no memory of having seen the word, and am curious to know if any Hatters are familiar with it.
Incidentally, the book sounds like a good read; after saying “the eleven years of rule without the monarchy or House of Lords that ended with Charles II’s return in 1660, has become a minority and often microscopic pursuit,” Worden writes:
To those sometimes somnolent years Anna Keay’s The Restless Republic, the work of a serious scholar but not a professional academic, brings a great burst of fresh air. The academic world would not tolerate its ambitions, which are descriptive and atmospheric rather than interpretative. The book has no thesis. Yet Keay shows how much the analytical coolness of professional history can miss, and at what cost to the analyses. The late Tudor historian Geoffrey Elton said privately that most academic historians do not in their hearts believe that the events they described really happened. In addressing the evidence, he meant, they use their intellects but not their imaginations. Keay’s book is an exceptional feat of imaginative engagement. Never have the kingless years been made so vivid, and never has vividness contributed so much to the understanding of them.
Thanks, MEL!
most academic historians do not in their hearts believe that the events they described really happened
Apart from its own sheer quotability, this strikes me as a fruitful template for constructing a whole boundless set of similar aphorisms.
“Most academic X do not in their hearts believe that the Y they describe really Z.”
It’s an aphorism schema.
I have read a little medieval parliamentary history, where an “afforced council” is intermediate in size between a great council and a privy council.
So “really” (as in really happened) means: you enjoy imagining it.
It’s an aphorism schema
A nod to axiom schema, I presume. But isn’t this kind of thing liable to encourage computational linguists ? I mean, it’s fine in practice, but one doesn’t need to get all hypostatic about it.
I’ve seen surveys that say many mathematicians believe that mathematics describe(s) a reality. Or something like that. Such a belief may be useful when applying for grants. But apart from that, who needs or expects it ? This belief functions as a polite fiction, but real men (and women) do without.
But isn’t this kind of thing liable to encourage computational linguists ?
Too true. I just wasn’t thinking it through. In hindsight, it was irresponsible.
The academic world would not tolerate its ambitions, which are descriptive and atmospheric rather than interpretative. The book has no thesis. Yet Keay shows how much the analytical coolness of professional history can miss, and at what cost to the analyses.
I definitely like such books in principle, because they are intended for the intelligent crowd to which I belong by birthright, being from Texas and all. I am well aware of the eternal tussles over descriptive/interpretative. It’s a case of different strokes for different folks. But some of us swing both ways.
@DE: by the way, that notion of “aphorism schema” gives a name to my fundamental technique of thinking. I treat every thought and sentence as a schema with parts which can be shifted around and replaced. Sometimes useful insights turn up, sometimes puns. Even the discardable results can become productive later on.
It’s win-win in principle. I simply have to remember that at some point I need to stop already.
My 1979 Black’s Law Dictionary adds additional insight into the legal use: to “afforce the assize” was, “[i]n old English practice, a method of securing the verdict, where the jury disagreed, *either by confining them without food and drink*, or, more anciently, by adding other jurors to the panel, to a limited extent, until twelve could be found who were unanimous” (emphasis mine). It also notes that “afforciamentum”, in old English law, was a fortress or fortification, or the calling of a court upon a solemn or extraordinary occasion.
So “really” (as in really happened) means: you enjoy imagining it.
An excellent insight !
Can anyone tell me how you pronounce ‘Keay’? Wikipedia apparently can’t.
(Anna Keay’s father is one of those authors who I’ll try reading anything by – he’s even almost managed to make me interested in the Great Game – so maybe I should give her a go!)
I would guess “key”, by analogy with
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sara_Keays
Reminds me (very tangentially) that the only “Kerr” I’ve ever met who pronounced it “Carr” (as you’d expect the English to do) was actually Jamaican (black; RP-speaking, pretty much.)
Can anyone tell me how you pronounce ‘Keay’?
The BBC Pronouncing Dictionary of British Names says “[keɪ] (kay),” and indeed it appears to be a variant of the surname Kay.
And you can hear it said thus in this interview (at the 20-second mark).
@mollymooly: I have read a little medieval parliamentary history
I was surprised to read that. I thought the spelling mediaeval was still universal in the British Isles.
I see “medieval” more and more here in the UK. I’m all for saving ink and the planet. “Afforce” is a term new to me.
I see “medieval” more and more here in the UK
I don’t know what the world is coming to. We’ll all be using mandative subjunctives soon, at this rate. Perish the thought!
Back in the Middle Ages themselves, they spelled “mediaeval” with three vowel letters; the extra one is, alas, forever lost to us.
But why the Cambridge Medieval History then?
—
Though, in volumes edited by Rosamond McKitterick:
– (ed. with Dorothy Whitelock and David Dumville) Ireland in Mediaeval Europe: Studies in Memory of Kathleen Hughes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982)
– (ed.) The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe (1990)
I think it’s been wholly reanalysed as mid-evil.
Optatives to the rescue.
Optatives to the rescue.
All that modal madness about mandative and subjunctive, yet nobody thought of optative ! That’s pretty irrealis.
I say “MAGA” is optative, because wishful thinking.
Back in the Middle Ages themselves, they spelled “mediaeval” with three vowel letters; the extra one is, alas, forever lost to us.
some appear to believe it to have been the latin-script parallel to cyrillic ꙮ, but since their publications lack theses, it’s hard to know whether this is intellect, imagination, or some unholy combination of the two.
I pronounce it /ˌmɛdˈiːvl/ so reanalysing the -ie- as /iː/ makes sense. If I said /ˌmɛdɪˈiːvl/ I might be more inclined to spell it “mediaeval” (or “mediæval” if I could type it easily). I could never say /mɪd-/ or /miːd-/
Oh. In a turn of events reminiscent of Radio Yerevan, I linked to a completely different video (this is the right one), and although the evil part is there (and made use of to rhyme with evil), the other part is [mɛd̥] with a clear [ɛ].
(Also, note the complete loss of [t] except after fricatives: word-initially t is [t͡s], elsewhere it’s [ʔ].)
Tom Lehrer rhymes “mediaeval” with “boll weevil.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAwhC_btAUU
(Lehrer rightly makes the word tetrasyllabic. This accords with my own usage, and is therefore the Only Correct Way.)
I too have no memory of having seen the word
However, as it happens, you must have written about it before (in 2009, apparently) – as evidenced by the 2 in the URL.
(…I’m actually surprised that none of the previous commenters pointed it out. I wonder if it’s related to how the Recent Comments page is giving 503 errors again.)
Good lord, so I have! I have no memory whatsoever of that. Sigh.
It’s funny, I usually do a site search on things I’m thinking of posting about, but I was so sure that was unfamiliar…
aphorism schema
Unfortunately, when Geoff Pullum asked for a term for this very concept back in 2003, nobody came up with “aphorism schema”, so now we’re stuck with the stupid-looking “snowclone”.
I personally like “aphorism schema” way better.
Huh — I much prefer “snowclone.” I find it easy to remember, whereas “aphorism schema” is one of those technical-sounding terms that goes in one ear and out the other.
@David Eddyshaw: tetrasyllabic
To me, that just sounds like he’s parodying what my father called “southern Church choir vibrato.” However, it conceivably could be manifestations of both that and the four-syllable pronunciation.
I much prefer “snowclone.”
Oh, very well. “An aphorism schema, or as it is colloquially known, snowclone.”
Obviously the technical term is appropriate in more scholarly contexts, of course.
Oh, very well. “An aphorism schema, or as it is colloquially known, snowclone.”
Yeah, that works.
I have seen the word in a historical novel
Something like “I am afforced” cried the tipstaff.
Seems to be taken as a formal legal phase like reading the Riot Act, so making obstruction of an official a felony.
Four syllables, spelling mediaeval (even though I am a Yank of the Yanks).
In breaking off-topic concerns: wiktionary sez “lorry” might be pronounced like (ähnlich) “worry”. More exactly: “[is] written and/or pronounced like”. This kind of thing gives cognition a bad name.
It’s supposedly the origin of German Lore, which I had to look up in DWDS because I’d forgotten the exact meaning. The origin of “lorry” is covered by fog – like certain Loren themselves towards the end of Roadside Picnic.
In breaking off-topic concerns: wiktionary sez “lorry” might be pronounced like (ähnlich) “worry”. More exactly: “[is] written and/or pronounced like”.
Where on earth did you get this from? Neither lorry nor worry says any such things, and their IPA pronunciations don’t agree: /ˈlɒɹi~ˈlɔɹi/ vs. /ˈwʌɹi~ˈwɝi/
Stu just likes giving cognition a bad name.
Where on earth did you get this from?
wiktionary, as I said, right at the bottom of the page.
# Ähnliche Wörter (Englisch):
ähnlich geschrieben und/oder ausgesprochen: worry #
I find that you have to display the page in German. When I switch the language to English, there is no such claim at the bottom of the page. Nor on the French, Russian and Català pages.
Well, it is ähnlich geschrieben, oder?
Yes, there’s no oder about that. And no und either. “und/oder” is phony, adventitious and misleading, to name but three. And redunculous [pigeon in Bolt, ed.], makes four.
Well, German Wikt is plain wrongdoculus about that.
It’s often necessary for clarity in a premade section headline like ähnlich geschrieben und/oder ausgesprochen:. While or tends to mean OR, oder generally means XOR, so you have to spell out “or both” if you want to make clear you don’t mean “either/or but not both”.