There’s a Word for That
LEXICOGRAPHERS COMPILED PRACTICAL— AND WHIMSICAL—GUIDES TO SYNONYMS CENTURIES BEFORE ROGET
ISIDORE OF SEVILLE ETYMOLOGIAE, SIVE ORIGINES, C. 600-625
Synonymy—the concept of distinct words signifying the same thing— was understood as far back as Ancient Greece, but the Archbishop of Seville authored the earliest work modern readers might recognize as a thesaurus. Writing in Latin, Isidore sought to help readers distinguish between easily confused words: “Drinking is nature, boozing is luxury.”
JOHN OF GARLAND SYNONYMA, C. 1225-1250
This English grammarian’s work was one of the first attempts to teach budding orators to punch up their speech by using different words to express the same idea. Organized alphabetically, like a modern thesaurus, it was written entirely in Latin verse and meant to be committed to memory. Garland encouraged orators to be attentive to context: A barking canis might be man’s best friend, but a swimming canis would be a “sea-dog”—a shark.
ERASMUS COPIA, 1512
The Dutch humanist’s book of Latin rhetoric went through nearly 100 print runs. It would influence many future writers, including Shakespeare. Erasmus delighted in showing how a sentence could be rephrased almost limitlessly. He demonstrated 150 ways to express “Your letter pleased me mightily,” for example: “Your epistle afforded me no small joy.”
GABRIEL GIRARD LA JUSTESSE DE LA LANGUE FRANÇOISE, OU LES DIFFÉRENTES SIGNIFICATIONS DES MOTS QUI PASSENT POUR SYNONYMES, 1718
The French abbot emphasized the distinctions between similar words in his synonymary: A man is “stupid” because he cannot learn, but “ignorant” because he does not learn. His book was a runaway success, inspired a wave of imitators and influenced Voltaire and Diderot.
HESTER PIOZZI BRITISH SYNONYMY, 1794
The English writer produced the first original English work of synonymy after seeing her Italian husband struggle with conversational English. Despite her lexicographical prowess, Piozzi limited her book to the realm of “familiar talk.” Her Synonymy was reprinted several times, including a heavily censored French edition published as Napoleon came to power—and which was conspicuously missing its entry for “tyranny.”