Mare's Nest: 04/01/2009

Of What I Cannot Do

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Of what I can't do: More interesting if I could? More pleasant, not as interesting? If I had done it, I would remember more than wonder.

"In mannered love, and perhaps in the first five minutes of passionate love, a woman taking a lover pays more attention to the way other women see him than to how she herself sees him." I tried this out on a woman, though, and she doubted it was the case – but then do remember this was written nearly 200 years ago, and they did things differently then. (Note that word "mannered".)

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"I am making all possible efforts to be dry," Stendhal writes early on. "I want to impose silence on my heart, which thinks it has much to say. I constantly fear having written nothing but a sigh, when I believe I have set down a truth."

(emphasis added)

The first form was to find a mare’s nest, to imagine that one has found something wonderful that turns out not to be real. It’s first recorded in a play in 1576. A typical usage is in Erskine Childers’ The Riddle of the Sands of 1903: “To accept the suggestion we must declare the whole quest a mare’s nest from beginning to end; the attempt on Davies a delusion of his own fancy, the whole structure we had built on it, baseless.”

It’s one variation on a set of phrases that were around centuries ago. Another version was horse’s nest, which was at one time also a dialect term for an idle tale or an oft-told story, one therefore over-elaborated and unbelievable. Other variations that have been recorded include salmon’s nest, and skate’s nest. For some reason, mare’s nest conquered the opposition and became standard. There’s a lovely enlargement of it in the 1811 edition of Captain Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue: “He has found a mare’s nest, and is laughing at the eggs; said of one who laughs without any apparent cause.”

The modern sense wasn’t recorded in the First Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, the entry for which was compiled in 1904, suggesting that it was then uncommon. The untidiness sense began to appear regularly in print only in the 1930s but was common by the 1940s. How the one sense changed into the other isn’t altogether obvious. A progression through illusion to misconception to confusion to muddle to extreme untidiness seems to have occurred. It may be that it was influenced by rat’s nest, a byword for untidiness that’s older than the modern sense of mare’s nest.