Today in 1779, English physician and philologist Peter Mark Roget was born in London.
“It is now nearly 50 years since I first projected a system of verbal classification similar to that on which the present work is founded … I had often during that long interval found this little collection, scanty and imperfect though it was, of much use to me in literary composition, and often contemplated its extension and improvement”—Peter Mark Roget, introduction to the first edition of the Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases, Classified and Arranged as to Facilitate the Expression of Ideas and Assist in Literary Composition, 1852.
“[Roget’s Thesaurus] found a place where in the Age of Innocence the family Bible might have rested. Hand in hand, of course, went growing familiarity with its author’s name. Almost unconsciously one grew away from a habit of calling him Rojjet or Rogget, and imperceptibly Rozhay became as much a part of the radiator-side patter as discussion of the latest super-film or the newest wrinkle in radio”—”Roget Becomes the Saint of Cross-wordia,” The New York Times Magazine, February 1925.
“Roget has become no more than a calculator for the lexically lazy: used too often, relied on at all, it will cause the most valuable part of the brain to atrophy, the core of human expression to wither”—Simon Winchester, “Word Imperfect,” The Atlantic Monthly, May 2001.
“The fault … lies not with Roget’s … Roget assumed that the reader would play an active role in selecting the right word. Back in 1852, he stressed that ‘amidst the many objects [words] thus brought within the realm of our contemplation … some excursive flight or brilliant conception may flash on the mind … awakening a responsive chord in the imagination or sensibility of the reader.’ Roget’s … usefulness ultimately depends on both the thoughtfulness and industry of the reader”—Joshua Kendall, The Man Who Made Lists, 2008.
“The man is not wholly evil—he has a Thesaurus in his cabin”—J.M. Barrie on Captain Hook in Peter Pan, 1904