

Visiting Dublin a few months ago, I missed a golden opportunity to ask a member of one of Ireland’s most famous families about the importance of the comma.

Denisa Casement, a charity worker in the city, is the American granddaughter of a second cousin of Sir Roger Casement, the diplomat executed in 1916 for treason. Historians and grammarians argue that Sir Roger was “hanged by a comma”.

There was no doubt that he plotted to land a shipment of German arms destined for Irish rebels, though it is also true that he intended to argue that the Easter rising should not go ahead.

The British wanted him sent to the gallows as a traitor, but there was a snag. The Treason Act appeared to cover only activities on British soil while Sir Roger’s criminal conduct had occurred in Germany.

To overcome this inconvenience, the court imposed a new meaning on the clause which declared that treason was committed if “a man do levy war against our Lord the King in his realm, or be adherent to the King’s enemies in his realm, giving to them aid and comfort in the realm, or elsewhere”.

Whereas it had previously been assumed that the words “or elsewhere” applied only to the provision of aid and comfort, the court ruled that the comma made them applicable to each of the actions described.

Sir Roger Casement’s hanging won him a revered place in Irish history.

But by the time I met Denisa, I had forgotten the comma’s role in his martyrdom. I am sure she would love the observation of Marc McLoughlin, a historian writing for the online magazine Suite101, that although Sir Roger was, in many eyes, one victim of the perverse application of the law, “English grammar, some would say, was another”.

The misuse of commas generally has less calamitous consequences. In my style guide for The National, I recommended sparing use, since I feel good writing can become stodgy if littered with commas. But I also said meaning could be distorted by the omission of a comma that was clearly necessary.

Lynne Truss exploited this rule in calling her book on language Eats, Shoots and Leaves. The title is based on a joke. With the comma, it tells us what an armed panda does on a visit to a cafe; without one, it describes the bear’s diet.

Since journalists and lawyers are frequently in conflict with one another, I take mischievous pleasure in recalling the misplaced comma that threatened to cost a Canadian company, Rogers Communications, a lot of money.

The firm’s lawyers thought they had a deal on utility poles with a pricing structure maintained for at least the first five-year period, after which one year’s notice would be required to terminate any subsequent five-year term.

However, the relevant clause said the agreement “shall continue in force for a period of five years from the date it is made, and thereafter for successive five year terms, unless and until terminated by one year prior notice in writing by either party”.

Applying the letter of grammatical law, regulators held that the second comma meant the second firm had acted within its rights in giving notice of a large increase without waiting for the first five-year term to end.

Ultimately, Rogers was saved by Canadian bilingualism. The French version of the contract supported its interpretation.

Another example of the care needed with Canadian English deserves mention. Two Canadian readers have highlighted an error in last week’s column: in Canada, a car lot is where vehicles are sold, not – as suggested – where they are parked (a car park in London being a parking lot in Ontario).

Both readers should note that I have made a resolution to be much more conscientious about foreign languages.



