I was reading speculations about the former Scottish First Minister, Alex Salmond, in The Spectator last week and came across this question: “…is there any credence in Salmond’s incendiary accusation that people around Sturgeon …. conspired to have him imprisoned?”
This is not, of course, a column for political comment, so I shan’t go into the well-aired controversy. But I’m struck by that use of the word “credence”. It seems to be intended here as a synonym for “credibility”, or the capacity for being believed. But “credence” in fact means more simply “belief” or “trust”. I suppose that might be what the writer meant but somehow doubt it as it is a common misunderstanding.
Here is another passage in which the confusion is more obvious: Roger Scruton is writing of Wagner’s mythical lovers, Tristan and Isolde: “[the medieval writer Gottfried von Strassburg], like Wagner, … wished … to modernize the [lovers’] characters and to give credence to their states of mind.” Scruton must intend “credibility” or even “plausibility” here.
“Credence” comes from the Italian word “credenza”, which has an interesting history. In the Middle Ages, it was the name given to a small side-table at which food and drink were tested by a ‘taster’ who would ascertain that the comestibles were fit to be served to the prince or prelate whose life might be in jeopardy – medieval manners being what they were.
Later, any subsidiary table, usually one with cupboards or shelves, might be referred to as a “credenza”. The Italian word was often retained in England, where a quite ordinary table or servery might be given the name. Nasty modern sideboards faced with formica can be “credenzas”. I see no reason why those heated trolleys that hostesses were fond of dispensing their dinners from in the 1950s might not be termed “credenzas”
More particularly, the word is used in English to mean a small table placed to one side of the altar in a Catholic (or Anglo-Catholic) church. Its purpose is to hold the elements consecrated for use in the Mass or Communion service. These are the central components of the act of faith, and there is no implication that they might be poisoned. It seems an appropriate use for the rather beautiful Italian term.
By the way, the ‘z’ in “credenza” is pronounced like the English ‘z’ in ‘zebra’. It doesn’t attract a ‘t’ sound, as in the double ‘z’ of ‘pizza’ or ‘pizzicato’. And, to skip to another language, the ‘z’ in ‘chorizo’ isn’t a ‘z’ sound at all, but a soft ‘th’. It’s Spanish, and the ‘ch’ is pronounced as in ‘church’. Remember this fact the next time you order a take-away Spanish lunch.
Just as “credence” should not be confused with “credibility”, so “credibility” should never be muddled up with “credulity”, though needless to say, it sometimes is. I’m certainly not suggesting that anyone would have the credulity to imagine that any of Scotland’s admirable public servants could conspire to poison the food and wine they were offering a colleague – in a spirit, of course, of friendship and forgiveness.