vellicate and subsultus and subsultorily and subsultory and spasmodic and velum and veliferous and veligerous and velivolent and ventage and ventail

Now that I have gotten the Century into the act, by introducing its defintion of velleity, I just had to let my eyes wander further down the page, and presto, I found a word that might be very useful but that isn't in the Collegiate. So, I have to rest there awhile and tell you about it. The word is vellicate, derived from the Latin vellere, meaning to "pluck or tear out," but it means to "twitch or cause to twitch convulsively" in English. But, oh-oh, I think I am about to go on another one of my word journeys, so here we go. After giving three "vellic"-type of words, the Century says: "See subsultus." This is also a term not appearing in the Collegiate, but with vellicating limbs and barely concealed excitement, I turned to that word.

A subsultus is a twitching, jerky or convulsive movement. It also is the fruitful mother of children, having in its brood subsultive, subsultory and subsultorily. Subsultive means spasmodic. From Berkeley, another 17th century philosopher, "The earth, I was told, moved up and down like the boiling of a pot..This sort of subsultive motion is ever accounted the most dangerous." I think we ought to think long and hard before we drop such terms from our usage. People twitch all the time. But, they twitch not only in a physical sense, though there is a good deal of that, but in an emotional or psychological manner. We talk about "waves" of emotions coming over a person, especially if it is the emotion of remembered distress, but why not also talk about subsultive submersion in emotional chaos or the vellicative devastation of loss? We talk about someone in the "throes" of emotion or chaos; why don't we throw a few more convulsive words into the mix to enrich our language? Certainly the scientists and doctors will use the words to describe physical phenomena, but let's take Shakespeare as our guide and inspiration in developing the psychological depths of language.

I couldn't quite escape from the Century. After giving us the gift of vellication/vellicate/vellicative, and leading us leaping over the fields to subsultus, I gave it one last look, and my eye fell upon a host of words related to velum. Actually, the words I first saw were veliferous, veliform, veliger, veligerous and velivolent. We also have the words velate and velamentous. The Collegiate ignores this verbal feast, but I don't think I will. The words all derive from a simple picture, the sail or curtain (translation of velum). Sails are square and triangular-shaped, and can billow in the wind. I think it provides a very attractive picture for mental play. Though the term velum has almost completely been taken over by the scientists (indeed the Collegiate does have velum, which it defines as a membrane resembling a sail or curtain), the first usage of velum in the Century is a quotation from Harper's: "I have crossed the town and entered the primitive theatre, installed in the court-yard of a house covered with a velum..." The velum, or awning, was also known as the velarium, which the Century defines as an "awning which was often drawn over the roofless Roman theaters and amphitheaters to protect that spectators from rain or the sun."

Most of the terms derived from velum have to do with plant coverings or scientific matters, but the Century could speak of a veliferous chariot. I actually like this word and think we can use it. Increasingly in American life we have flags and other sail-like objects that stream from cars or bikes or other objects. Rather than using the nonce-term vexilliferous, why not use the term veliferous to describe the dramatic passage of "flag" or "sail-bearing" vehicles? Finally, the term velivolent, only attested in a 1656 dictionary by Blount to mean "flying with full sail," should have a birth (if not rebirth) today. Who can be acquainted with a bunch of joyous graduates, the day of their party, and not be in the presence of dozens of velivolent spirits? Maybe we should develop a new synonym for confidence: velivolence.

Returning to (the Collegiate) Reality

I am almost out of space here, so let's continue briefly with a few words from the Collegiate.

1. A ventage is simply a small hole, even though the OED has an earlier meaning of "the action of selling or vending." More specifically, it is an aperture in the length of a wind instrument for controlling the notes. Shakespeare bequeathed this word to us through a memorable scene in Hamlet; most modern usages of the term derive from him. In that longest of scenes, 3.2, where the musicians are playing, Hamlet says, "Govern these ventages/ with your fingers and [thumbs], give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music" (3.2.357-359).

2. Ventail. A ventail is the lower movable front part of the medieval helmet. The upper part was called the visor. I think the issue is much more complex than this, for we not only had the develpment of armorial technology from the 11th-16th centuries but there were different coverings in different lands, but I will leave it here.

3. Verbicide. Let's end with this word that may be descriptive of what some people think I am trying to do to the language (i.e., killing it). The first attested use of verbicide is in 1858 by OW Holmes, Sr., "Homicide and verbicide--that is, violent treatment of a word with fatal results to its legitimate meaning--are alike forbidden." There is a question in my mind whether we really can "kill" English. I think it has a resilience and absorptive capacity that almost exceeds that of mother nature. We will have literary hand-wringers, such as the 1978 quotation which lamented, "Other verbicidal entertainers who were school dropouts have also received 'honorary' degrees," but I think the language is safe even from "school dropouts." In fact, custodians of the language are often like the mythical librarian of old whose major objection was that people checked books out of the library...

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