He imagined what these ideas would be like if they had
surfaces. Of course in putting these conceptions into language he was
creating figures of speech, some of them startlingly apt, some of them
merely far-fetched. He said a man had a _rough_ voice, as though the
voice were like a cactus in its prickly irregularities. By _rough_ he
meant what his fellows meant when they spoke of the voice as harsh,
grating, jarring, discordant, inharmonious, strident, raucous, or
unmusical. Going farther, that early poet said the weather was
_rough_. He thought of clement weather as being smooth and even, but
of inclement, severe, stormy, tempestuous, or violent weather as being
full of projections to rend and harass one. Thus an everyday use of the
term today was once wrenched and immoderate speech. Possibly the first man
who heard of rough weather was puzzled for a moment, then amused or
delighted as he caught the figure. It did not require great originality to
think of a crowd as _rough_ in its movements. But our poet applied
the idea to an individual. To him a rude, uncivil, impolite, ungracious,
uncourteous, unpolished, uncouth, boorish, blunt, bluff, gruff, brusk, or
burly person was as the unplaned lumber or the unpolished gem; and we
imitative moderns still call such a man _rough_.
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