by Richard Lederer
In the English language, the heart is often used to denote the seat of passion,
compassion, courage, and intelligence. Of all the parts of the body, the heart
is the one that throbs most pervasively through our daily conversation. If,
for example, we are deeply saddened, we might say that we are heartsick, heartbroken,
downhearted, heavy-hearted, or discouraged. At the heart of discouraged beats
the Latin cor, “heart,” giving the word the literal meaning of “disheartened.”
Or if we wish to emphasize our sincerity, we might say heartfelt, with all my
heart, from the bottom of my heart, or in my heart of hearts.
If something pleases us greatly, we might drag out heart’s delight or
it warms the cockles of my heart. The latter is a somewhat redundant statement;
a cockle is a bivalve mollusk of the genus cardium (Latin “heart”)
that takes its name from its shape, which resembles that of a human heart.
It was once the custom for a young man to attach to his sleeve a gift for his
sweetheart or to wear her name embroidered on his sleeve, thus displaying his
feelings for the world to see. Seizing on this practice, William Shakespeare
gave the world the expression to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve,
meaning “to show one’s emotions.” In Othello, Iago says: “For
when my outward action doth demonstrate/The native act and figure of my heart/
In compliment extern, ‘tis not long after/But I will wear my heart upon
my sleeve.”
Using the definitions that follow, identify each common word and expression
that contains the word heart. Answers repose at the end of this column.
by Richard Lederer
A little more than two centuries ago, the most famous poet in Scotland was
untimely ripped from this mortal coil. When Robert Burns died in 1796, he was
but 37 years of age.
The life of Robert Burns might have furnished the plot for a romantic novel.
He was born on January 25, 1759, in a clay cottage of two rooms in Alloway,
near the southwestern coast of Scotland. His father was an unsuccessful farmer,
and young Robert was assigned heavy work in the fields when he was only 11.
The strain resulted in a progressive heart disease that was to prove fatal at
the age of 37.
In 1786, Burns's life reached its low point. In despair over his poverty and
the rejection by the woman he had hoped to marry, Burns resolved to emigrate
from Scotland to Jamaica. He gathered together some of his poems, hoping to
sell them for a sum sufficient to pay the expenses of his journey. The result
was a small volume of poetry titled Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect,
and its impact changed the course of English verse.
Burns bought his ticket to Jamaica from the 20 pounds he earned from the sale
of his little book. The night before he was to sail he wrote “Farewell
to Scotland,” which he intended to be his last song composed on Scottish
soil. But in the morning he changed his mind, led partly by some dim foreshadowing
of the result of his literary adventure.
In the late 18th century, with its emphasis on elegance, style and refined manners,
the rustic, simple lyrics of Burns seemed incongruous. But Poems, Chiefly in
the Scottish Dialect took all of Scotland by storm and was universally praised
by critics. The newly famous author was dubbed The Peasant Poet and The Plowman
Poet, and he became instantly lionized as a natural singer and rustic philosopher.
Ultimately Burns's work established him as the Scottish national poet and the
primary bridge between the rational satire of the 18th century and the exuberant
romanticism of the 19th.
Perhaps the most renowned of Burns's poems is “To a Mouse,” subtitled
"on turning her up in her nest with a plow, November 1785." Addressing
the “wee beastie,” the speaker apologizes for destroying the mouse's
nest. Gradually, the parallels between man and mouse emerge:
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,
An lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promised joy.
More than two centuries after Burns composed “To a Mouse,” the power
of its statement about the human condition struck a Nobel Prize winning American
novelist. John Steinbeck crafted a simple and luminous story about two itinerant
agricultural workers, Lenny and George, whose dreams of owning their own farm
are crushed. He turned to Burns's statement “The best-laid schemes o'
mice and men/Gang aft a-gley” (often go awry) and titled his novel Of
Mice and Men.
Today, Robert Burns sings to us in another special way, for one of his lyrics
is the first that many of us hear each year. On New Year's Eve, when the clock
strikes midnight, the song that many bands around the world often play consists
of verses written by Bobby Burns:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
In Scottish, “auld lang syne” (the last word should be sounded
with a soft s, not a z) means literally “old long since,” or “long
ago,” appropriate to the time when we review the joys and disappointments
of the past year and hope for the best to come.
Happy New Year. It’s good to have you near.
"PRESIDENTIAL TRIVIA: THE FEATS, FATES, FAMILIES, FOIBLES, AND FIRSTS OF OUR AMERICAN PRESIDENTS (Gibbs Smith Publisher) is already in second printing. Richard Lederer can send you signed and, if you request, personally inscribed copies @ $11, including tax and shipping fees. For information, email him at richard.lederer@pobox.com."