Key Takeaways
1. English: A Language Forged by Invasion and Borrowing
The English language—so vast, so sprawling, so wonderfully unwieldy, so subtle, and now in its never-ending fullness so undeniably magnificent—is in its essence the language of invasion.
Language evolution. English is a rich tapestry woven from centuries of external influence. Starting with Celtic, it was profoundly shaped by Roman Latin, then dominated and fundamentally altered by Germanic invaders (Angles, Saxons, Jutes) who brought Old English. Later, Norse Vikings added hundreds of crucial words.
Norman Conquest impact. The Norman invasion of 1066 brought French, which became the language of power and culture for 300 years, doubling the English vocabulary with words for law, administration, food, and fashion. The Renaissance further exploded the lexicon with borrowings from Latin, Greek, and languages worldwide due to exploration and science.
Endless assimilation. Unlike languages governed by academies, English has no central authority prescribing its use. It constantly absorbs words from every corner of the globe, reflecting its dynamic and ever-expanding nature. This ceaseless borrowing makes cataloging it a monumental, never-ending task.
2. Early Dictionaries: Limited Scope, Missing the Full Picture
No one had by then come up with the idea of what we now know a dictionary to be: a list of English words in (most probably) an alphabetical order, with the meanings and perhaps the various senses of each listed, and perhaps some guidance as to the spelling, pronunciation, and origin of each word as well.
Early glossaries. Before the 17th century, English reference books were primarily bilingual translating dictionaries or glossaries of "hard words" for the less educated. There was no comprehensive list of English words with their meanings, spelling, or origins. Even great writers like Shakespeare lacked access to what we consider a basic dictionary.
First monolingual attempts. Robert Cawdrey's 1604 Table Alphabeticall was the first English-only dictionary, but it listed only 3,000 "hard words" and offered brief glosses, not definitions. Subsequent dictionaries slowly grew, but often focused on jargon or difficult terms, neglecting common words.
Johnson's breakthrough. Samuel Johnson's 1755 dictionary was a landmark, listing 43,500 words with definitions and illustrative quotations. However, it was limited by his decision to only read literature from 1586 onwards, missing centuries of language history. Noah Webster's later American dictionary was larger but still incomplete and prescriptive in tone.
3. The Grand Vision: A Complete, Historical Record of English
No, from a fresh start, from a tabula rasa, there should be constructed now a wholly new dictionary that would give, in essence and in fact, the meaning of everything.
Identifying deficiencies. In 1857, Dean Richard Chenevix Trench of the Philological Society delivered a paper highlighting the severe shortcomings of existing English dictionaries. They were incomplete, missed obsolete words and word families, lacked historical depth, omitted crucial meanings, and failed to distinguish synonyms adequately.
A new kind of dictionary. Trench proposed a revolutionary dictionary based on "historical principles." It would include every English word, obsolete or current, define every sense and meaning, provide all variant spellings and etymologies, suggest pronunciation, and, crucially, illustrate the history and evolution of each word through dated quotations from literature.
Descriptive, not prescriptive. Unlike French or Italian dictionaries governed by linguistic academies, this new dictionary would not dictate how language should be used. Instead, it would be entirely descriptive, recording how words had been used throughout history, recognizing that language is constantly changing. This ambitious vision aimed to be the definitive record of the English language.
4. False Starts and Frustration: Early Leadership Challenges
The inevitable consequence was that under Frederick Furnivall's direction, work on the Dictionary in the years following Coleridge's death, staggered, stalled, and then very nearly died itself.
Coleridge's initial efforts. Herbert Coleridge, the first editor, began organizing the project in 1858. He established reading lists, recruited volunteers, and designed the first set of pigeon-holes for quotation slips. Despite his dedication, he was sickly and died just a year into the work, leaving the project in disarray.
Furnivall's chaotic tenure. Frederick Furnivall, a brilliant but eccentric scholar, took over. While energetic and passionate, he lacked organizational skills and discipline. He was easily distracted by other interests (founding numerous literary societies, sculling with waitresses) and prone to public feuds.
Project near collapse. Under Furnivall, volunteer readers became disillusioned and stopped sending slips, which were scattered or lost. Sub-editors abandoned their tasks. Publishers lost confidence. By the early 1870s, progress had ground to a halt, and the project was widely believed to be doomed, desperately needing a steady hand to rescue it.
5. James Murray: The Indispensable Leader
But there was no ignoring him, for James Murray was in all ways—and in particular, in intellectual ways—unforgettably remarkable.
Unlikely candidate. James Murray, a self-taught Scottish schoolmaster and former bank clerk, initially seemed an unlikely choice to lead the monumental dictionary project. Despite his lack of a traditional university degree (he later received honorary ones), he possessed a prodigious intellect, mastering numerous languages and becoming a respected philologist.
Taking the helm. After Furnivall's failures, Murray was approached and, after some hesitation (and encouragement from his wife, Ada), accepted the editorship in 1879. He brought the discipline, organizational skill, and unwavering dedication that the project desperately needed.
A life's work. Murray dedicated the rest of his life, 36 years, to the Dictionary. He oversaw the collection and sorting of millions of quotation slips, established the Scriptorium as the central workplace, recruited and managed staff and volunteers, and personally edited vast sections of the alphabet, setting the standard for the entire work. His leadership transformed the project from a chaotic dream into a tangible reality.
6. The Power of the Crowd: A Vast Volunteer Army of Readers
An entire army would join hand in hand till it covered the breadth of the island … this drawing a sweep-net over the whole extent of English literature, is that which we would fain see …
Recruiting the army. Realizing the impossibility of one person reading all of English literature, Dean Trench proposed, and Murray implemented, a revolutionary crowdsourcing model. Murray issued a public "Appeal for Readers" in 1879, asking the English-speaking public worldwide to read books and extract quotations illustrating word usage.
Millions of slips. Hundreds responded, from all walks of life and across the globe. They read everything from classic literature and newspapers to technical manuals and obscure journals, writing down words and their contexts on slips of paper. This volunteer effort generated millions of quotation slips, the raw material for the dictionary.
Essential contribution. This unpaid army was the lifeblood of the project. Their collective effort provided the historical evidence needed to trace the life story of each word, revealing its various meanings and how they evolved over time. Without their tireless work, the OED on historical principles would have been impossible.
7. The Scriptorium: Organizing the Lexical Chaos
He decided that while everyone else seemed to call this nasty and damp and unhealthy little building
the Shed', he would dignify it by the name monks gave to the room in which they prepared illuminated manuscripts:
the Scriptorium'.
A dedicated workspace. To manage the ever-growing mountain of quotation slips (eventually totaling over five million), Murray needed a dedicated workspace. At his home in Mill Hill, and later in Oxford, he had corrugated iron sheds built in his garden, which he christened the "Scriptorium."
Systematic sorting. These sheds housed thousands of pigeon-holes, initially designed by Coleridge but vastly expanded by Murray's brother-in-law. Here, assistants and Murray's own children sorted the incoming slips alphabetically by headword, then by part of speech, and finally chronologically.
The heart of the operation. The Scriptorium became the central hub where the raw data from the readers was organized, analyzed, and transformed into dictionary entries. Despite its humble and often uncomfortable conditions (cold, damp, drafty), it was where the painstaking work of discerning meanings and writing definitions took place, the engine room of the entire enterprise.
8. Institutional Battles: Funding, Skepticism, and Interference
What makes our chariot go so heavily is the fact that it is always carrying the dead weights of scores and scores of matters which no-one will nerve themselves to finish.
Oxford's reluctance. Oxford University Press (OUP) eventually agreed to publish the dictionary in 1879, but they were constantly concerned about the cost and slow pace. They initially underestimated the project's scale and expected it to be finished in ten years for £9,000. It would take 54 years and cost £300,000.
Jowett and Gell's pressure. Figures like Benjamin Jowett (Vice-Chancellor) and Philip Lyttelton Gell (OUP Secretary) pressured Murray to speed up, cut corners, and adhere to unrealistic production schedules (704 pages per year). They questioned his methods, tried to dictate content (like omitting scientific words), and interfered with his work, causing immense stress and near-resignations.
Public outcry saves the day. The constant friction and threats of suspension eventually spilled into the press in 1896, causing a public outcry. The national importance of the dictionary was recognized, shaming OUP and leading to Gell's dismissal. This turning point secured the project's future, allowing Murray and his team to work with less interference, albeit still under financial constraints.
9. Extraordinary Contributors: Eccentrics, Scholars, and the Troubled
The range of interests of these hundreds was prodigious; their knowledge was extraordinary; their determination was unequalled; and yet their legacy—aside from the book itself—remains essentially unwritten.
Diverse volunteers. The OED was built on the dedication of thousands of volunteers from incredibly diverse backgrounds: scholars, clergymen, teachers, housewives, lawyers, doctors, businessmen, and even prisoners. Their names, often listed in small print in the prefaces, represent a hidden history of collective intellectual effort.
Notable figures. Some volunteers were particularly remarkable. Fitzedward Hall, an American scholar living as a hermit in rural England after a scandalous academic feud, provided invaluable proofreading and critical feedback for decades without ever meeting Murray. Dr. W. C. Minor, an American Civil War veteran confined to a criminal asylum for murder, became one of the most prolific readers, providing tens of thousands of quotations, his work a form of therapy.
Beyond the slips. Beyond the readers, there were dedicated assistants and expert advisers who contributed specialized knowledge in etymology, science, and various dialects. Figures like Henry Bradley, who became co-editor, and J. R. R. Tolkien, who worked on the W section, brought their unique skills to bear on the immense task, embodying the spirit of collaborative scholarship.
10. The Method: Historical Principles and Relentless Detail
This was a method which Johnson perhaps honoured more in the breach than the observance. But it nonetheless set the pattern for all the best dictionaries for all time to come: no better means has ever been developed for producing as near as possible a complete record of a language.
Tracing word biographies. The core of the OED's method was its historical approach. For each word, editors gathered all available quotations, arranged them chronologically, and analyzed them to discern every distinct meaning and sense the word had acquired throughout its history. This allowed them to map the evolution of language over centuries.
Defining with precision. Definitions were crafted based on the evidence from the quotations, aiming for clarity and accuracy. Editors sought to define words using simpler terms already included in the dictionary, following an Aristotelian logic of genus and differentiae.
Comprehensive scope. The project aimed for total inclusion, listing obsolete words, variant spellings, etymologies, and pronunciation guidance. This meticulous attention to detail, while incredibly time-consuming, ensured the dictionary's unparalleled authority and comprehensiveness, making it a definitive record of the English lexicon.
11. Decades of Labor Culminate: A Triumph of Scholarship
The Oxford English Dictionary is the greatest enterprise of its kind in history.
Slow but steady progress. Despite immense challenges—disorganization, funding crises, institutional pressure, the sheer scale of the language, and two world wars—the work continued, inching forward letter by letter, fascicle by fascicle. The appointment of Henry Bradley as co-editor in 1887, and later William Craigie and Charles Onions, helped distribute the workload.
Royal recognition. The dedication of the dictionary to Queen Victoria in 1897 marked a turning point, lending the project national prestige and easing some of the financial pressure from OUP. The public perception shifted from skepticism to pride in this monumental national undertaking.
Completion at last. After nearly 70 years since its conception and 54 years since James Murray officially began work, the first edition of the twelve-volume Oxford English Dictionary was finally completed and published in 1928. It was celebrated as an unprecedented achievement in scholarship, a testament to the dedication of its editors, staff, and the vast army of volunteers who helped give "the meaning of everything."
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Review Summary
The Meaning of Everything receives mostly positive reviews for its engaging history of the Oxford English Dictionary's creation. Readers appreciate Winchester's storytelling and humor, though some find parts dry or lacking depth. Many enjoy learning about the dictionary's origins, the people involved, and the immense scale of the project. Critics note occasional errors and a focus on personalities over linguistic details. Overall, it's recommended for word enthusiasts and those interested in the OED's development, despite some pacing issues.
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