If one time-traveled to the here and now from, say, about 1650, probably the very first thing they’d animadvert is that nobody animadverts any more. Or more precisely, they might animadvert (at least on their phone), but practically everyone has forgotten what “animadvert” means. In fact, everyone has forgotten so completely that “animadvert,” which in 1650 meant to “notice,” doesn’t even have that meaning any more.
The second thing I’m sure would be noticed by a transplanted 15th-century person is that “animadvert” is, in fact, still in use (barely), but nowadays it means something different. As the London Times used it, on April 27th, 1964, it means to criticize: “It was interesting to hear Mr. Carlo Maria Giulini animadvert on the acoustical shortcomings of the Festival Hall.”
Although you might not have encountered “animadvert” before, it’s been in use to mean “criticize”, at least here and there, right along. Paul Theroux used it in his 1996 book Other Life: “Goodness knows you might want to animadvert on the implication of this unsolicited kick in the goolies.” And to be completely open about the time traveler example, the word had this meaning back in the 1600s too, although it more commonly meant “notice” rather than “criticize”. For example, “Court-converts..Of whose Religion the Priest that had lately written on the subject, (on which Dr. Featly had animadverted,) hath given a faire warning,” is from Herbert Palmer’s Scripture and Reason, published in 1643. And in the 1600s, authors were evidently paid by the length of their titles, because Palmer’s title drags on for 28 more words.
“Animadvert” comes straight from the Latin word “animadvertere”, which also had the same two meanings, to notice and to criticize. Although it’s a pretty obscure word, it’s closely related to a couple of more common ones: “adverse” and “adversary.” All three of these are derived from “advertere.” But after that you have to be careful; “avert” and “averse,” which are pretty darn close, come from a different Latin root: aversus. “Aversus” meant to turn away, which is pretty close to what “avert” means in English; you can “avert your eyes” from something to avoid looking at it. But the various words are not all that different, after all. If you animadverted something adverse enough to avert your eyes from it, you’d be pretty likely to animadvert it later.
PS: since you must be on the edges of your seats wondering about the rest of Herbert Palmer’s title, here’s the whole thing: Scripture and reason pleaded for defensive armes: or The whole controversie about subjects taking up armes, wherein an answer is punctually directed to Dr. Fernes booke, entituled, Resolving of conscience, &c. It’s pretty impressive that he managed to work in another author and title, which unfortunately he truncated with “&c”. But never fear, since we have The Interwebs (inexplicably not animadverted by our 16th century visitor), the complete title of Dr. Ferne’s book is available: “The resolving of conscience, upon this question, whether upon such a supposition or case, as is now usually made The King will not discharge his trust, but is bent or seduced to subvert religion, laws, and liberties subjects may take arms and resist?” In fact the whole book is available; somebody reprinted it in 2013 and you can buy it on Amazon.
PPS: I suppose there might be some quibbling about what a visitor from the 1600s might notice first, but I’ll brook no animadversion about my animadversion.
