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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1 89 1 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027368129 
 
THE CHANGING 
 
 VALUES OF ENGLISH SPEECH 
 
Other Books by Dr. Bell: 
 
 The Worth of Words 
 
 (Hinds, Noble & Eldredge) 
 
 Songs of The Shawangunks 
 Aala Deene, and Other Poems 
 
 Words of the Wood (Poems) 
 
 {Small, Maynard & Co.) 
 
THE CHANGING VALUES 
 
 of 
 
 ENGLISH SPEECH 
 
 By 
 Ralcy Husted Bell 
 
 HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE, Publishers 
 3 J - 33 - 35 West 1 5th Street New York City 
 
Copyright, 1909 
 
 by 
 
 Hinds, Noble & Eldbedgb 
 
To 
 
 The Late 
 
 JOHN JAMES INGALLS 
 
 Scholar, Statesman, Friend 
 
. , . . the history of the single word 
 bedlam cannot be completely understood 
 without some knowledge of the history 
 of Europe and Asia for more than fifteen 
 hundred years. It would be hard to find 
 a more striking instance of the absurdity 
 of regarding the study of words as a 
 narrow and trivial diversion of pedants. 
 Words are the signs of thoughts and 
 thoughts make history. 
 
 WORDS AND THEIR WATS IN ENGLISH SPEECH 
 
 Greeruntgh and Kittredge 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The White Island (Britain) 1 
 
 The Aborigines 13 
 
 Changing Values 27 
 
 English 35 
 
 Early English 43 
 
 Language-Change 55 
 
 The Soul of Words 67 
 
 Poetry And Its "Threadbare" Themes 83 
 
 Syntax And a Word with Professor 
 
 Lounsbury 95 
 
 Intensives 109 
 
 Variations in Word-meanings 121 
 
 Style 131 
 
 Distinctions in Word-meanings 153 
 
 Some Further Distinctions 163 
 
 The Origin of Language 179 
 
 Some Old Celtic Friends 199 
 
 English Orthography and "Simplified 
 
 Spelling" 211 
 
 Words Which Have Changed Since 
 
 Shakspere Wrote The Tragedie of 
 
 Macbeth 255 
 
 Commonplace Poetry 269 
 
 Books and Authors 281 
 
 Index 289 
 
THE WHITE ISLAND 
 
THE WHITE ISLAND 
 
 SO far as the English language is 
 concerned, the most important piece 
 of earth's geography is The White 
 Island to the westward of Gaul. It 
 was once an isolated spot which Fable 
 peopled with grim giants. It has since 
 become the most renowned kingdom of 
 the world, and has given birth to the 
 greatest of intellectual giants. 
 
 The Enghsh tongue has become a 
 rank polyglot, and is spreading over 
 the earth like some hardy plant whose 
 seed is sown by the wind. It has crossed 
 seas to continents remote — ^it has taken 
 root in foreign soil — ^it has become cos- 
 mopolitan — ^it has grown forgetful of 
 early forms — ^it has mixed with noisome 
 
The White Island 
 
 weeds — ^it has blown new blossoms — ^it 
 is putting forth strange buds, and will 
 continue to grow, to change, to expand, 
 to decay, and to take fresh root again 
 throughout the ages to come; but it will 
 never dissociate itself from the island 
 which gave it birth. The English lan- 
 guage and the Union-Jack seem almost 
 to stand for the same thing: the glory 
 of England. 
 
 Whatever relates to the history and 
 romance of the British Isles concerns 
 the English language. Legend, tradi- 
 tion and fable are not, usually, pure 
 fabrications. They contain some truth 
 with much invention. The invention is 
 often a pleasing setting for the truth. 
 History, on the other hand, while en- 
 compassing much truth with some in- 
 vention, too often uses its invention 
 clumsily, to the end that truth appears 
 distorted or is rendered unattractive and 
 dry. The grotesque garments of Fable 
 
The White Island 
 
 are gaudy — their masses of bright color 
 attract the bees of the mind which, hav- 
 ing good memory, return to them. 
 
 Let us then turn back to the past 
 and read why this "White Island" — this 
 "Land of Green Hills" — was first called 
 Albion and afterward Britain. 
 
 There is an Eastern romance which 
 tells us how badly the fifty sons of Danus, 
 King of Greece, were treated by their 
 wives, the fifty daughters of ^Egistus, 
 King of Egypt. These faithless spouses 
 thirsted for power. The question as to 
 who should be "boss" was uppermost in 
 their minds. They hatched a murder- 
 ous conspiracy by which they hoped to 
 slay their husbands and to rule in their 
 stead. One of their own sisters, as 
 usual, betrayed them. Thereupon they 
 were seized and set adrift in ships upon 
 the sea. After many days of stormy 
 weather, they landed in safety upon the 
 shores of a large island which was un- 
 
The White Island 
 
 inhabited. Upon this land, they made 
 their home and called it Albion in honor 
 of Albina, their eldest sister. Here they 
 lived by the chase, as many of their 
 sisters have done since, hunting thick- 
 necked w^ild bulls, swift deer and in- 
 tolerable boars. 
 
 "And vv^hile filled with meat and drink, 
 and with .... thoughts, they lay 
 sleeping on the ground covered with 
 the skins of wild beasts, dark brooding 
 spirits swept toward them from the sky, 
 and encircled them with their shadowy 
 arms, and intoxicated them with their 
 flaming breath." 
 
 "By these were born huge and hideous 
 giants which soon bore others, till they 
 filled the whole land with a strange and 
 fierce crew." 
 
 Now, "Troy had fallen: the wander- 
 ings of Eneas were past; and Ascanius 
 
The White Island 
 
 had died, leaving behind him his son 
 Silvius." 
 
 Silvius was gallant — ^a maid whom he 
 loved was beautiful. Forsooth, a son 
 was born to them. He was named 
 Bru, or Brutus. It had been foretold 
 by the wise soothsayers before his birth, 
 that this child would be the death, as it 
 were, of his parents; that through their 
 death he should be driven from the land, 
 and that a crown would come to him 
 after many years. 
 
 All this politely came to pass. The 
 mother died at his birth. While he was 
 yet a youth, one day a-hunting, he had 
 the poor taste to shoot his father instead of 
 a deer. For this indiscretion of thought- 
 less boyhood, he was banished. He went 
 to Greece. Having already tasted the 
 honey of regicide, he hungered for the 
 scalp of Pandrasus. His threats against 
 the throne were so plausible, that the 
 king grew nervous and softly persuaded 
 
The White Island 
 
 him, by the gift of his only daughter 
 Imogen, to seek another land over which 
 to rule — throwing into the bargain both 
 sail and treasure. 
 
 Accordingly, Brutus, "like Eneas of 
 old, sailed forth upon the waters in search 
 of a new land." On his way, he touched 
 at a strange island, where Diana appeared 
 to him and told him of winsome Albion, 
 beyond Gaul, wherein he should prosper. 
 
 "For thirty days and thirty nights they 
 sailed past Africa and over the lake of 
 Silvius, and over the lake of Philisteus: 
 by Ruscikadan they took the sea, and by 
 the mountain country of Azare. They 
 fought with the pirates, and gained from 
 them such treasures that there was not a 
 man in the fleet who did not wear gold 
 and pall. And by the pillars of Her- 
 cules they were encompassed by mermen 
 who sing songs so sweet that mariners 
 will rest slothfully on their oars, and 
 
 8 
 
The White Island 
 
 listen to them for days without wearying 
 of their songs to hear — these impeded 
 them much with their wicked crafts, 
 but they escaped them safely." 
 
 "In a peaceful sea, and among the 
 playing fish they came to Dartmouth in 
 Totnes. There the ships bit the sands, 
 and with merry hearts the warriors 
 went ashore." 
 
 "It happened after many days that 
 Brutus and his people were celebrating 
 holy writs, with meat, with drink, and 
 with merry glee sounds: with silver and 
 with gold: with horses and with vest- 
 ments." 
 
 "Twenty strong giants descended the 
 hills : trees were their clubs : in the centre 
 of their foreheads was a single eye vivid 
 as blue ice. They hurled huge stones 
 and slew five hundred of the Trojans. 
 But soon the fierce steel arrows of the 
 Trojans whistled through the air, and 
 blood began to spurt from their mon- 
 
The White Island 
 
 strous sides. They tried to fly; but those 
 darts followed them swift and revengeful, 
 as birds of prey winged with the dark 
 feathers of death." 
 
 "Nineteen were slain and Geog-magog, 
 their leader, was brought bound before 
 Brutus, who ordered a wrestling match 
 to be held between the giant and Cori- 
 neus, a chieftain of his army." 
 
 "A mighty crowd gathered upon the 
 downs by the sea-cliff." 
 
 "Corineus and the giant advanced 
 toward each other, they yoked their arms 
 and stood breast to breast. Their eyes 
 gushed blood, their teeth gnashed like 
 wild boars, their bones cracked. Now 
 their faces were black and swollen, now 
 red and flaming with rage. Geog-magog 
 thrust Corineus off his breast and draw- 
 ing him back broke three of his ribs with 
 his mighty hand. But Corineus was not 
 overcome, he hugged the giant grimly 
 to his waist, and grasping him by the 
 
 10 
 
The White Island 
 
 girdle swung him over the cliff upon 
 the rocks below." 
 
 "Which spot is called 'Geog-magog's 
 leap' to this day. And to Corineus, the 
 conqueror, was given a dukedom, which 
 was thence called Corinee and thence 
 Cornwall." 
 
 "Brutus having conquered the giant 
 offspring of the treacherous sisters, built 
 a new Troy, and erected temples to 
 the great Diana, and caused her to be 
 worshipped throughout the land." 
 
 "Which was named Britain after Bru- 
 tus, the first man who set foot upon its 
 shores." 
 
 11 
 
THE ABORIGINES 
 
THE ABORIGINES 
 
 THE origin of the aborigines of 
 Britain has inspired a good deal of 
 guess-work. The period of their 
 arrival is so remote and the information 
 concerning it is so hazy, that few writers 
 care definitely to aflSrm much on the 
 subject. 
 
 According to Josephus, the Scythians 
 were called Magogcei by the Greeks; 
 and the Magogasi, most probably, were 
 that tribe of the aborigines spoken of in 
 the Welsh triad: 
 
 "The first of the three chieftains who 
 established the colony was Hu, the 
 Mighty, who came with the original 
 settlers. They came over the Hazy Sea 
 
 15 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 from the summer country, which is 
 called DeflFrobani, that is where Con- 
 stinohlys now stands." 
 
 At the time of Caesar's invasion, we 
 are told by Tacitus and others that, 
 there were at least three distinct tribes 
 in Britain: the red-haired, blue-eyed Celts 
 of the North; the Silures of Devon and 
 Cornwall, and the " Cassiterides of the 
 Scilly Isles, who had swarthy faces and 
 dark curly hair, like the Iberi of Spain." 
 
 In a poem called The Appeasing of 
 Lhudd, by the renowned Taliesin of 
 Wales, it appears that the Phoenicians, 
 "at that time the pirate-scourges of the 
 sea," were also "first" settlers of Britain: 
 
 "A numerous race, fierce, they are said to have 
 
 been, 
 Were thy original colonists, Britain, first of 
 
 isles. 
 Natives of a country in Asia, and the city of 
 
 Gafiz. 
 
 16 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 Said to have been a skilful people, but the dis- 
 trict is unknown 
 
 Which was mother to these children, warlike 
 adventurers on the sea; 
 
 Clad in their long dress, who could equal 
 them? 
 
 Their skill is celebrated, they were the dread 
 of Europe." 
 
 It is more than likely that the abori- 
 gines of Britain came from several re- 
 gions of the East. The fable of Ma-gog 
 and Brutus arose, perhaps, from the 
 battles between the Phoenicians and the 
 Scythians. We know that heroes are 
 commonly referred to as giants in the 
 war-tales of early peoples. 
 
 This fable, which was once thought to 
 have been a fabrication of the monks, 
 "was first published by Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth"; but later, "it was discovered in 
 the historical poems of Tyssilia, a Welsh 
 bard." 
 
 For the fable of Albion, we are in- 
 debted to "the ancient chronicles of 
 
 2 17 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 Hugh de Genesis, an historiographer now 
 almost forgotten." The tale was taken 
 seriously, and so set forth in his rhymes 
 by John Hardyng. On the strength of it, 
 he advanced the theory that his country- 
 women had rightfully inherited their 
 "desire for sovereignty," which he seemed 
 to think was one of their marked pecu- 
 liarities. 
 
 So much for fable and legend of the 
 dateless periods of conjecture. We will 
 now turn to the historians, poets and 
 philosophers. From them we learn that 
 in the aboriginal day, the northern part 
 of Britain was peopled by wild savages 
 who roamed the forests naked, lived on 
 the bark of trees and on the produce of 
 the chase. They took refuge from severe 
 weather in caves, or sheltered themselves 
 as best they could in the woods. 
 
 It is said that these savages went naked 
 not because of barbarous ignorance, but 
 rather on account of their vanity, which 
 
 18 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 with them was a passion. They tattooed 
 their skins at an early age with a pointed 
 instrument and the blue infusion of woad. 
 In one respect they resembled the South- 
 Sea Islanders. The Picts, or painted 
 men, as the Romans called them, used 
 the juice of green grass for coloring 
 themselves. 
 
 "Hunting was their favorite exercise and 
 sport, and Britain, which was then filled 
 with vast swamps and forests, afforded 
 them a variety of game." 
 
 "The elephant and the rhinoceros, 
 the moose-deer, the tiger and other beasts 
 now only known in Eastern climes, and 
 mammoth creatures that have since dis- 
 appeared from the face of the earth 
 made the ground tremble beneath their 
 stately tread. The brown bear preyed 
 upon their cattle, and slept in the hollow 
 oaks which they revered. The hyenas 
 yelped by night, and prowled round the 
 
 19 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 fold of the shepherd. The beaver fished 
 in their streams, and built its earthen 
 towns upon their banks. And hundreds 
 of wolves, united by the keen frosts of 
 winter, gathered round the rude habita- 
 tions of men and howled from fierce 
 hunger, rolling their horrible green eyes 
 and gnashing their white teeth." 
 
 The pastoral tribes lived in the mid- 
 lands. They owned flocks and herds 
 which furnished them with food and 
 clothing. 
 
 "While the inhabitants of the South, 
 who had been polished by intercourse 
 with strangers, were acquainted with 
 many of the arts of civilization, and were 
 ruled by a priesthood which was second 
 to none in the world for its learning and 
 experience." 
 
 "They manured their ground with 
 marl, and sowed corn, which they stored 
 
 20 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 in thatched houses, and from which they 
 took as much as was necessary for the 
 day and having dried the ears, beat the 
 grain out, bruised it, and baked it into 
 bread." 
 
 "They ate little of this bread at their 
 banquets, but great quantities of flesh, 
 which they either boiled in water, or 
 broiled upon the coals, or roasted upon 
 spits. They drank ale or metheglin, a 
 liquor made of milk and honey, and sat 
 upon the skins of wolves or dogs." 
 
 "They lived in small houses built in a 
 circular form, thatched with rushes into 
 the shape of a cone; an aperture being 
 left by which the smoke might escape." 
 
 "Their dress was of their own manu- 
 facture. A square mantle covered a 
 vest and trousers, or a deeply-plaited 
 tunic of braided cloth; the waist was en- 
 circled by a belt, rings adorned the 
 second finger of each hand, and a chain 
 of iron or brass was suspended from the 
 
 21 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 neck. These mantles, at first the only 
 coverings of the Britons, were of one 
 cblor, with long hair on the outside, and 
 were fastened upon the breast by a clasp; 
 with the poorer classes by a thorn." 
 
 "The heads were covered with caps 
 made of rushes, and their feet with sandals 
 of untanned skin; specimens of which 
 are still to be met with — of the former in 
 Wales, of the latter in the Shetland 
 Isles." 
 
 "The women wore tunics, wrought 
 and interwoven with various colors, over 
 which was a loose robe of coarser make, 
 secured with brazen buckles. They let 
 their hair flow at freedom, and dyed it 
 yellow like the ladies of ancient Rome; 
 and they wore chains of massive gold 
 about their necks, bracelets upon their 
 arms, rings upon their fingers." 
 
 "They were skilled in the art of weav- 
 ing, in which, however, the Gauls had 
 obtained a still greater proficience. The 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 most valuable of their cloths were manu- 
 factured of fine wool of different tints, 
 woven chequer-wise, so as to fall into 
 small squares of various colors. They 
 also made a kind of cloth, which, without 
 spinning or weaving, was, when worked 
 up with vinegar, so hard and impenetrable 
 that it would turn the edge of the sharpest 
 sword." 
 
 "They were equally famous for their 
 linen, and sail-cloths constituted a great 
 part of their trade." 
 
 "When they had finished the linen in 
 the loom, they had this curious method 
 of bleaching it: 
 
 "The flax having been whitened be- 
 fore it was sent to the loom, the unspun 
 yarn was placed in a mortar where it 
 was pounded and beaten in water; it 
 was then sent to the weaver, and when 
 it was received from him made into 
 cloth, it was laid upon a large smooth 
 stone, and beaten with broad-headed 
 
 23 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 cudgels, the juice of poppies being mingled 
 with the water." 
 
 "For scouring clothes, they used a 
 soap invented by themselves, which they 
 made from the fat of animals and the 
 ashes of certain vegetables." 
 
 "Distinct from these southern tribes 
 were the inhabitants of the Cassiterides, 
 who wore long black garments, and beards 
 falling on each side of their mouths like 
 wings, and who are described by Pliny 
 as 'carrying staves with three serpents 
 curling round like Furies in a tragedy.' " 
 
 These were the aborigines of Britain — 
 these were the ancient lords of the Land 
 of the Green Hills; and they were in 
 many respects superior to the Low- 
 German robbers who swept over their 
 domain, drove them back among the 
 hills, despoiled them of their wives and 
 cattle, and at last all but destroyed their 
 dialects. 
 
 24 
 
The Aborigines 
 
 They were a brave, hardy, generous, 
 virtuous people, taken all in all. They 
 promised a civilization of splendor, and 
 a language of rare beauty and strength. 
 And the relatively few words which 
 English has happily preserved from their 
 neglected dialects are some of the choicest 
 and best in our tongue. 
 
 S5 
 
CHANGING VALUES 
 
CHANGING VALUES 
 
 EVERYTHING changes: part of the 
 time it is growth, and part of the 
 time decay. The "dead" lan- 
 guages represent decay. The subtleties 
 of meaning which surround words — the 
 aura of a living tongue — are the first to 
 pass away. The values of letters, or 
 symbols, are next to disappear; pro- 
 nunciation is lost, and, finally, only the 
 skeleton remains. As time proceeds, we 
 retain less and less of the spirit of a lan- 
 guage that is "dead." This gradual 
 but certain loss is comparable to decay. 
 
 As surely as dead languages decay, 
 living languages change. For, while lan- 
 guage is not an organic growth, 'per se, 
 yet its changes may be compared with the 
 evolution, the devolution and the death 
 
 29 
 
Changing Values 
 
 of an organic growth. Language is a 
 servant, pure and simple, of the intellect; 
 or, shall we say, a function of the intel- 
 lect which maintains a kind of immate- 
 rial parallelism with material, organic 
 changes? Upon the intellect it must 
 depend as surely as the mind depends 
 upon the body; and when the intellect 
 abandons a particular form of speech, it 
 perishes — just as neglected words perish 
 when they pass out of use. For all 
 practical purposes, then, we must deal 
 with language as though it were, as it 
 virtually is, a thing organic. 
 
 When the English Channel began to 
 cut its way through the chalk cliffs, 
 many may have deplored the damage 
 done to property and landscape. Some 
 old women with twig-brooms may have 
 tried to sweep the encroaching waters 
 back toward the North Sea. Maybe 
 some great chieftain — some royal Canute 
 — commanded the salt dew to keep off 
 
Changing Values 
 
 his grass, and the tide to recede from 
 his meadows. But the arm of the sea 
 was not withdrawn, and the result tells 
 a story of the inevitability of natural 
 law. 
 
 The changes of speech are likewise 
 inevitable. The spirit of change is every- 
 where inexorable, so far as we know. It 
 cannot be stayed by command of prigs; 
 it cannot be accelerated by chieftains or 
 kings; it cannot be cowed by scholastic 
 moss-backs, and it is altogether contempt- 
 uous toward fussy old money-bags fore- 
 ever scratching a psychologic itch. 
 
 The law of change dominates alike 
 the personal and impersonal estates of 
 man, just as the law of gravity rules the 
 stars. If change is not merely another 
 side of gravity, at least it runs parallel 
 with gravity in wondrous sweeps, fas- 
 cinating curves, mighty swirls and direct 
 flow. 
 
 Change proceeds certain-wise, and we 
 
 31 
 
Changing Values 
 
 call it progress — contrary-wise, and we 
 call it retrogression; it turns and eddies, 
 and we call it stagnation or non-pro- 
 gression; it moves faster than we are 
 accustomed to notice, and we call it 
 revolution; when its slower drder is 
 apparent, we call it evolution; when it 
 reverses itself, as it were, we call it devo- 
 lution; and finally, what we do not under- 
 stand about it we call GOD, and then 
 proceed at once to discourse learnedly 
 upon his divine attributes. 
 
 So with gravitation — displacement of 
 non-aetheric things in calm aether, or 
 aether in motion — ^whichever may be the 
 case: — one phase we call attraction, an- 
 other repulsion, another electricity, others 
 heat, light, magnetism and so forth. 
 But both change and aetheric motion, or 
 gravity, or relative displacement, are 
 primordial, and so far as we know to the 
 contrary, universal. 
 
 Yet, in a small way, we have learned 
 
Changing Values 
 
 how to turn gravity into certain courses 
 according to our needs; we have suc- 
 ceeded in bending it sHghtly to our will — 
 that is to say, to our service. 
 
 So may we turn language-change into 
 ways of usefulness to our higher needs. 
 But we cannot accomplish this by acts 
 of parliament or by the dictates of well- 
 meaning asses, nor, unfortunately, by 
 the well-worded theories of philosophers. 
 It must be done by the human mind in 
 the parliament of the masses — ^by the 
 irrevocable authority of usage. All vital 
 changes in language must proceed in 
 accordance with the tendency of the 
 mass-effect of the minds using it. 
 
 And so we write books on the subject, 
 think on the subject, discuss it indi- 
 vidually and in conference, and tell one 
 another all about it, only to see how 
 futile our efforts are, and how slight is 
 the general effect. Usage is the secret 
 of the changing values of speech, and 
 
Changing Values 
 
 back of usage is the need, and back of 
 the need, general ignorance or pubKc 
 enlightenment; in a word, public taste, 
 even as against personal culture. 
 
 34 
 
ENGLISH 
 
ENGLISH 
 
 AS for English, the tongue we are 
 considering, it probably reached 
 its perfection several centuries ago. 
 Up to that time it grew. Since then it 
 has merely changed — is now changing, 
 and will continue to change. The process 
 of change now is, and for a long time 
 probably will continue to be, comparable 
 to decay. For the English language is in 
 a sense a dead language. "English," as 
 applied to our present tongue, is a sort 
 of poetic license — a habit and figure of 
 speech. "English" is a polyglot. As it 
 stands today, we may, for the sake of 
 example, liken it to the heart of a tree, of 
 even compare it to an ephemeral temple, 
 the architecture of which lacks unity and 
 is botchy — an unfinished, ever-changing 
 
 37 
 
English 
 
 piece of patch-work. Only in the struc- 
 ture and design of the sanctum sanctorum 
 do we find purity, strength and beauty — a 
 style that is nearly satisfying. Never- 
 theless, the temple is destined to be, I 
 believe, the most useful, the strongest 
 and most beautiful of all the temples of 
 speech. 
 
 At present the builders are experi- 
 mentists: the workmen, for the most 
 part, are ignorant gropers for what they 
 conceive to be the needful. This is the 
 rule : some bring misshapen yellow bricks 
 with which to replace pieces of pure 
 marble of perfect cut. The Architect — 
 that is to say, Usage — ^is careless, clumsy, 
 awkward and slow: a sort of blind copy- 
 ist, forever modifying the design — tearing 
 down and rebuilding according to the 
 Master, the human mind in dynamic 
 mass. Master and Architect assume long 
 periods of time for the completion of 
 their work; and they proceed without 
 
English 
 
 especial plans, since they have not yet 
 learned the art of predetermination. In 
 foresight they are woefully blind; and yet 
 their labors are guided by a sublime 
 faith in the result. Peoples are essen- 
 tially fatalists. 
 
 It is only necessary to read the "papers" 
 and follow the discussions of the technical 
 and professional societies, such as, and 
 notably, the American Institute of Elec- 
 trical Engineers, the American Associa- 
 tion of Mechanical Engineers, the Amer- 
 ican Electro-Chemical Society, and others, 
 in order to obtain an insight into the 
 methods of unconscious corruption of 
 English. The few men in these large and 
 representative bodies who can write well 
 and use their own language logically are 
 literally forced to use a large percentage 
 of bastard words so that they may be 
 understood by their colleagues. Read 
 the brief of the average lawyer, and the 
 contribution of the average M.D. to 
 
 39 
 
English 
 
 medical and surgical "literature" if you 
 are not already totally paralyzed by the 
 abominable "English" of, for instance, 
 the electrical engineers. The cackling of 
 a bevy of ignorant, gossiping old women 
 is classic literature by comparison. 
 
 In a word, so-called "class-journalism" 
 and class-contributions generally are 
 great corrupters of decent speech. The 
 discourses of the Clergy, on the other 
 hand, have done more for the cause of 
 good language than they have even for 
 the cause of good conduct and morals. 
 But great as has been the salutary effect 
 of the pulpit upon our language, it is 
 hardly comparable with the greater good 
 eflfect of journaUsm. The "editorial" 
 and special writers of "newspaper Eng- 
 lish" are the strongest conservators of 
 our language, because their influence for 
 good form is constant and far-reaching. 
 
 The average "reporter" is not particu- 
 larly a paragon in many and nameless 
 
 40 
 
English 
 
 essentials; and yet, be it said to his 
 eternal glory, his English is far from 
 vile when one considers the kind of 
 stuff he drinks, the stress and action 
 laid upon his work. Daily the average 
 college professor commits sins of speech 
 far more heinous than the nimble-witted, 
 hustling reporter ever does — at least, so 
 it seems to me. 
 
 So we find the conservators of our 
 tongue working like busy bees for the 
 purity and sweetness of speech; and not 
 far away in greater numbers we see the 
 corrupters working like tumble-bugs in 
 linguistic corruption. So far as language 
 is concerned, both bee and tumble-bug, 
 as it were, obey secondary laws in the 
 , conserving of good form on the one hand, 
 and in the perpetrating of execrable form 
 on the other. The stress of these modern 
 times is the primary law which shapes 
 men and directs their interests. Lan- 
 guage is merely a code of business con- 
 
 41 
 
English 
 
 venience: to the great masses of man- 
 kind it is in no sense a fine art. To the 
 newspaper writers and to the authors, 
 good form in linguistics is merely a 
 matter of technique — a secondary law 
 which has fallen almost to the level of 
 metier, so to speak. 
 
 And yet, out of all this seething mass of 
 fermenting speech will come, we hope, the 
 pure wine of expression worthy the gods — 
 a wine which will be drunken by future 
 generations of men in song and story, and 
 which shall inspire interpretations of 
 glory on the lips of science and art. 
 
 4S 
 
EARLY ENGLISH 
 
EARLY ENGLISH 
 
 ENGLISH has ever been a com- 
 posite tongue. When Julius Caesar 
 made his first diplomatic call at 
 the Court of the British people, in the 
 year 55 B. C, he found the inhabitants 
 speaking a Celtic dialect. When the great 
 general returned to Rome, he left be- 
 hind him a memory and perhaps a very 
 few Latin words. If the memory of 
 the genial Caesar impressed the Britons, 
 it was not altogether on account of his 
 tongue. 
 
 Such, however, was not the case with 
 Agricola, a hundred and thirty-six years 
 later; for with the building of his famous 
 forts, he committed other and more 
 lastinsr abominations. Not content with 
 the making of Britain a Roman province, 
 
 45 
 
Early English 
 
 he introduced Latin, which in turn led 
 to an invasion by a new and strange 
 religion somewhere about the year 180, 
 present era. But Latin was not in- 
 troduced first into Britain by Generals 
 Caesar and Agricola. Some stray Latin 
 words had found their way there in 
 prehistoric times. They were, however, 
 meek, non-insistent words and were easily 
 subjugated. They were the mere scout- 
 words of a later-day, arrogant army of 
 Latin words which overran Europe and 
 America. 
 
 After the withdrawal of the Romans, a 
 notorious Mr. Hengest invaded Britain 
 with his ruthless hordes of Low-Germans 
 who spoke Teutonic dialects which, col- 
 lectively and loosely, have been called 
 Anglo-Saxon. Three tribes, speaking 
 these dialects of the great Aryan or Indo- 
 European language, played important 
 roles in the conquest of Britain, the divi- 
 sion of her territory, and the subjugation 
 
 46 
 
Early English 
 
 of the native tongue. This began in the 
 year of grace 449; and the three tribes 
 are known as Angles, Saxons and Jutes. 
 The Angles took possession of the region 
 north of the Humber, which included a 
 goodly part of low-Scotland as far to 
 the northward as Aberdeen. The Saxons 
 fell upon the country south of the Thames 
 and made it theirs; while the modest 
 Jutes contented themselves with the Mid- 
 land district, and founded the rich King- 
 dom of Kent. 
 
 This was the birth of the so-called 
 Anglo-Saxon tongue in Angles-Land 
 (England) , as Britain was called. Broad- 
 ly speaking, Anglo-Saxon was a union of 
 the Saxon (Old-English and Norman) 
 dialects with the Northumbrian and Mer- 
 cian (Anglian or Englisc). 
 
 For the sake of confusion, in the name 
 of convenience, the vernacular of ancient 
 England has been divided into three 
 parts: Old-English (one-third Wessex), 
 
 47 
 
Early English 
 
 A.D. 450—1150; Middle-English, 1150— 
 1300; Early-English, 1300—1500. How- 
 ever, as details must be avoided as much 
 as possible in this discourse. Early 
 English denotes, in a general vpay, the 
 vernacular down to the year 1500. All 
 the dialects, together with many foreign 
 words, contributed to this tongue; and it 
 is well known that in the eighth century 
 the dialects of the Angles, Jutes and 
 Saxons were clearly intelligible to one 
 another. The Northumbrian was first 
 to attain ascendancy over the other two; 
 Wessex came second, and finally the 
 Mercian prevailed. 
 
 As Latin words had become implanted 
 in Celtic speech, so did Celtic infuse 
 words into Anglo-Saxon; and the Danes, 
 by their invasion of England in 787, 832, 
 and especially in the year 855, when they 
 wintered at Kent, sowed Scandinavian 
 words, more or less, over all England 
 until the Norman Conquest in 1066. 
 
 18 
 
Early English 
 
 This composite tongue, beginning roughly 
 at 450, developed into what is known as 
 Early English. 
 
 After the year 450 an influx of other 
 foreign words gradually modified and 
 finally dominated Early English. Trade 
 with Holland naturally introduced many 
 Dutch words. Early English was not only 
 already composite, but it was so much 
 under the influence of foreign tongues 
 in 1258, that when Henry HI issued his 
 famous proclamation in the native lan- 
 guage on the 18th of October, in that 
 year, it made a sensation that has not 
 entirely died out even to this day. Ed- 
 ward III, in 1358, brought back from 
 his invasion of France some French 
 words. In the same year English was 
 first taught in the schools. As early as 
 1339 law-courts conducted their plead- 
 ings in English and recorded them in 
 Latin. Thus we find that Anglo-French, 
 Norman-French and Latin, which had 
 
Early English 
 
 held powerful sway over Early English, 
 were partly pushed aside in 1385. And 
 yet, as late as 1455-71, during the Wars 
 of the Roses, there were "three distinct 
 and well-marked literary dialects of Eng- 
 lish: the Northern (Northumbrian), Mid- 
 land (Mercian), and Southern (Saxon)." 
 The result of that struggle gave the as- 
 cendancy to the Midland, which became 
 the standard literary dialect, and has 
 since held sway over the language. 
 
 Then came the introduction of printing 
 into England in the year 1477, which 
 wrought a change in the spelling. The 
 heterogeneous, phonetic style, in which 
 everybody suited himself, gave way to a 
 more or less uniform method which has 
 continued with all its changing faults, 
 until more recent times, when jumping- 
 jack spelling reformers pine and cry for a 
 liberty that is as confusing as it is olden. 
 
 During and after the reign of Ed- 
 ward VI, many Greek words were adopted 
 
 50 
 
Early English 
 
 directly by Science and Literature — words 
 which were refused by the spoken ver- 
 nacular. Before the time of Cheke, who 
 taught at Cambridge, Greek words came 
 principally by way of Latin and French; 
 that is to say, indirectly; and, for the 
 most part, these Latinized and Gallicized 
 Greek words concerned ecclesiastical and 
 medical subjects. 
 
 Before 1300 the number of French 
 words introduced into Early English 
 was inconsiderable. They came spar- 
 ingly at first after the Norman Conquest; 
 but during the fourteenth century "the 
 influx of them was immense"; and at 
 the beginning of the fifteenth century 
 "the composite character of our language 
 was completely established." 
 
 Through the law-courts many Old- 
 French words came into use and are still 
 retained — words no longer in current use, 
 together with many that never found their 
 way there. 
 
 51 
 
Early English 
 
 Early English had reached a high 
 degree of development in the eleventh 
 century. The influence of Norman- 
 French on Wessex, the literary dialect at 
 the time of the Norman Conquest, was 
 at first one of suppression; its influence 
 was curtailed to its own province. The 
 court consisted of Normans who con- 
 tinued to speak their own tongue. Nor- 
 man-French became the language of 
 society as well. The literary men no 
 longer found it advisable to write in the 
 Wessex, but chose, instead, their own 
 local dialects when writing in the ver- 
 nacular. "In other words, the Norman 
 Conquest put the dialects of England once 
 more on their mettle." 
 
 After the loss of Normandy to England, 
 early in the thirteenth century, "the spe- 
 cific influence of Norman-French upon 
 the English language was very slight 
 indeed. ... In the latter part of 
 the thirteenth century and throughout 
 
 52 
 
Early English 
 
 the Fourteenth," Norman-French gave 
 way to Central or Parisian French, which 
 "was now the recognized standard on the 
 Continent, and the French of the English 
 Court was not Norman, but as good 
 Parisian French as the nobility could 
 muster." And we find that the large 
 majority of French words introduced 
 into English since the year 1300 came 
 from the Parisian French. 
 
 Through the influence of the Hebrew 
 Scriptures, the Semitic languages — He- 
 brew and Arabic — also contributed some 
 words to Early English. This was but 
 natural, since the Scriptures had made 
 them familiar to the Greek, Latin and 
 French authors. At the beginning of 
 the sixteenth century, there were vir- 
 tually no other sources from which Eng- 
 lish drew foreign words. This brings us 
 to the year 1500, at which Modern Eng- 
 lish begins. 
 
 53 
 
LANGUAGE-CHANGE 
 
LANGUAGE-CHANGE 
 
 THE need as surely precedes a new 
 word, as the seed the plant. The 
 growth of language is firmly rooted 
 in the soil of common necessity. To the 
 student, there should be no mystery in its 
 growth — nothing startling in its change. 
 The phenomenon of language-growth does 
 not warrant the usual vague, metaphys- 
 ical explanation so dear to many writers 
 on the subject. The trouble with these 
 expounders is, that their learning con- 
 fuses rather than clarifies their under- 
 standing. Over-specialized endeavor often 
 distorts the perspective. There is a kind 
 of hypnotic embarrassment, or something 
 akin to it, in large profusion of detail. 
 
 Suppose one were to describe the evo- 
 lution of the apple, for instance : Summers 
 by the thousand have kissed its cheek; 
 
 67 
 
Language-change 
 
 unnumbered dawns have wept wooing 
 tears upon its pink bloom; countless 
 dreaming days have breathed warmly 
 upon its leaves; until finally, we behold 
 the hope of the sun, as a holy prayer 
 fulfilled, in the ripened flesh of the per- 
 fected fruit. We may trace the apple 
 back from its present development to 
 those early days when it was a wild, 
 acrid, gnarly thing scarcely larger than a 
 cherry. We may note the changes of its 
 growth, and the causes producing them. 
 It may interest such of us as are inclined 
 to the study of chemistry, to consider its 
 acids and their slow modifications — ^to 
 direct inquiries into the action of sun- 
 light upon chlorophyl. The effects of 
 soil, climate and cultivation may be noted. 
 The process of grafting — sinter-marrying 
 of varieties — may justly claim our atten- 
 tion; but it would hardly profit us to 
 spend much time in speculating as to the 
 number of green apples required two 
 
 68 
 
Language-change 
 
 hundred and fifty thousand years ago to 
 disturb the digestion of a young savage. 
 And yet, unfortunately, there are well- 
 known writers upon language, who would 
 lead us into speculations equally useless 
 concerning words. 
 
 Much has been written to no purpose 
 on the origin of words. Definite in- 
 formation on the subject would be pleas- 
 ing; but heavy guessing dragged through 
 pages of wearisome and stilted discourses 
 is tiresome, to say nothing more. 
 
 Of this we may be reasonably sure: 
 Perfected language was never put into 
 man's mouth, as a juicy apple, from the 
 skies. Language is as surely a develop- 
 ment as is man himself a development. 
 Every word that ever blessed his lips was 
 complement to a need. As needs slowly 
 dawned upon human consciousness, signs 
 were invented to tally them. At first 
 they were gestures, and later, combina- 
 tions of gestures and sounds; these signs 
 
 59 
 
Language-change 
 
 were as savage as the needs they named. 
 Even now, it is not a very far cry from 
 the growl of a savage gnawing at a bone, 
 to the commands of some folk at table in 
 our fashionable hostelries. 
 
 From the rude signs of primitive man 
 all languages have evolved. At first, 
 there could have been little or no relation 
 between these coarse symbols of want. 
 Gradually, relations came into being and 
 slowly widened, until the golden threads of 
 common thought wove the more chastened 
 symbols into that meaning which we call 
 speech; and, at last, into a tongue capable 
 of expressing the soul of Keats, or all that 
 a civilized man may feel and dream. 
 
 It is precisely as man develops soul, 
 and synchronously, that his words ac- 
 quire sense — so much and no more. 
 According to the same law, delicacy of 
 feeling fathers euphemism of expression, 
 even as a brutal instinct shows itself in 
 heartless words and cruel tones. 
 
 60 
 
Language-change 
 
 It is a misfortune that so many earnest 
 students in language, who write learnedly 
 on the subject, concern themselves so 
 little with wider research. For, truly, 
 language is a thing of life — not in the 
 sense of an animal organism, but in that 
 greater sense of encompassing every- 
 thing, interweaving through everything, 
 and depending upon everything in the 
 universe that makes conscious and sub- 
 conscious impression upon the sensitive 
 nervous structure of the high type of 
 organized beings who use it. 
 
 A proper comprehension, therefore, of 
 the spirit of language, and of the pro- 
 perties of words, must rest upon the 
 multitudinous things with which the in- 
 tellect of man has to do. To be qualified, 
 as a teacher, to discuss language with its 
 wondrous and changing word-mosaics, 
 its varying phrases and shifting idioms, 
 one should be acquainted with physics 
 and philosophy, with the sciences and 
 
 61 
 
Language-change 
 
 arts, with the development and induction 
 of harmony in sound, color and form — 
 with the trails of ontogeny, the blazings of 
 phylogeny — in a word, with the high- 
 ways and byways of human thought 
 and human feeling not only, but with 
 that pantheism of feeling, as it were, 
 which lies beneath all expression. Just 
 as even the dimmest understanding of 
 psychology must be based upon an ac- 
 quaintance with the phenomena of physi- 
 ology, electro-chemistry, mechanics and 
 physics; upon evolution, natural selec- 
 tion, environed growth and heredity, so 
 is the comprehension of the soul of words 
 and the spirit of a tongue dependent upon 
 some slight understanding, at least, of 
 countless things pertinent to the develop- 
 ment of language, and of the race 
 using it. 
 
 As I have said elsewhere, language 
 serves man according to his needs. The 
 cannibal gets on very well with long-pig 
 
Language-change 
 
 and short-pig; but the soul of a Shak- 
 spere would be starved to death with the 
 paucity of a cannibal tongue. 
 
 Language-change is not always lan- 
 guage-growth—but is often mistaken for 
 growth. In ethics, for example, lan- 
 guage does not seem to change materially, 
 because, perhaps, ethics has practically 
 stood still for many centuries. In looking 
 backward we may see, to be sure, a chang- 
 ing sense of delicacy reflected in words — 
 but that is about all. 
 
 Whether the human race is making 
 real progress, or merely shifting its posi- 
 tion of interest from philosophy to me- 
 chanics and commercialism, may be ques- 
 tioned by some; but that it is engaged 
 in tremendous change, no one can doubt. 
 It is patent that the overwhelming major- 
 ity of the race is primarily and basically 
 interested in commercialism and mechan- 
 ics. To millions of souls, self-preserva- 
 tion is adjunctive to these. The com- 
 
 es 
 
Language-change 
 
 plex and astounding changes that have 
 occurred in these fields of endeavor 
 have revolutionized the world. Language 
 must keep pace with the change — and 
 it surely will. 
 
 This means addition and modification 
 of words and their varying significances. 
 Whether this irresistible change will con- 
 stitute a growth in which shall be the 
 elements of strength, utility and beauty — 
 simplicity it is inevitably losing — or, 
 whether the change will merely overrun 
 us in a rank Babel of confusion, depends, 
 of course, upon the manners of mankind 
 through ages to come. 
 
 We hope that all linguistic change will 
 purify itself on the lips of the world. It 
 is certain that language, sweet and pure 
 as a woodland spring, should be a blessed 
 inheritance to the children of men, even 
 as light, air and soil. In a sense, lan- 
 guage is an inheritance; but only in a 
 sense. For as light, air and soil are 
 
 64 
 
Language-change 
 
 denied by barbarous conditions unto 
 thousands upon thousands of human 
 beings, so is wholesome language denied 
 them. The soulful element of their 
 tongue is withheld from them by similar 
 causes which deny them their birth- 
 right of air, light and soil. They get 
 just enough of any of these to support 
 life on the lowest planes of thought and 
 being. It should be the bounden duty 
 of the thoughtful person to try to conserve 
 the force and beauty of his tongue, thereby 
 rendering wide service to all. 
 
 Language will change as human in- 
 terests change. No one should wish to 
 restrict its elasticity or retard its normal 
 growth; but we should see to it, that it 
 does not overrun the fair garden of the 
 soul in wild, uncultivated profusion. It 
 should not be allowed to diverge from 
 the parallelism of fact. Its wilder ele- 
 ments, as it were, should not be unduly 
 encouraged lest they acquire pernicious 
 
 65 
 
Language-change 
 
 activity. In that, there is no real growth, 
 or, to say the least, not the most whole- 
 some growth. And press however hard 
 we may the careful classic brake to 
 ever-rolling speech, the wheel will yet 
 move fast enough for every need, and yet 
 find enough of vulgar soil to cling to it. 
 In time we hope this will not be. When 
 man shall learn to breed the babes of 
 soul as carefully as now he breeds the 
 supple flesh of speed in beasts, all this 
 will change. Then the common speech 
 will be the only classic tongue; but be- 
 tween then and now, we must also learn, 
 that human life is more valuable than 
 dollars — ^that earth and air and light 
 and health and joy are the birthright of 
 babes — that women should bear only 
 welcome burdens — that failures and mis- 
 fits of poverty and crime and ignorance 
 have no right to add to the population of 
 the world. Until then, we must safe- 
 guard our speech as we would our morals. 
 
 66 
 
THE SOUL OF WORDS 
 
THE SOUL OF WORDS 
 
 THE "inner life" of man is a myth. 
 A veiy ancient superstition, which 
 has not yet entirely passed away, 
 endowed man with a mysterious attribute 
 called "inner life." That view is no 
 longer held by the thoughtful element 
 of our kind. Metaphorically, we speak 
 quite properly of the soul of words and of 
 man, and of the spirit of a tongue. In 
 this sense, soul can mean little else than 
 the harmonized, summed-up, or aggregate 
 characteristics which are pleasing in a 
 person or thing. It might be likened to a 
 crystallization in human conception of 
 that which common consent deems beau- 
 tiful and good. That is somewhat differ- 
 ent from the vague conception of "inner 
 
 69 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 life" as applied to man. So, also, in the 
 expression : the spirit of a tongue. Spirit 
 here means the unbroken warp of gold, 
 which harmonizes the relations of words 
 into the woof of language, making it at 
 once beautiful, useful and strong. 
 
 If man were possessed of "inner life," 
 deeply hidden from his fellows, it would 
 surely find outlet in his speech, diffuse 
 itself among his associates, and thus 
 become not his inner, but in reality his 
 outer, life. For, as certainly as the lan- 
 guage of a people reflects its character, 
 so do the words of a person, with astonish- 
 ing accuracy, picture the soul of the 
 speaker. The art of diplomacy is not 
 subtle enough to lead the intelligent 
 listener astray. Language never con- 
 ceals thought from the keen-witted — 
 from one who has eyes to see and ears to 
 hear; and, paradoxical as it may be, it 
 is also true that language too rarely 
 reveals any real thought. 
 
 70 
 
The Saul of Words 
 
 The ancients recognized that as a man 
 Uves, so must he also speak. This being 
 true, it might be urged that the first 
 lessons in language should be lessons in 
 right-living. Well and good! that cannot 
 be gainsaid; but no lesson in right- 
 living — the most difficult of all things to 
 teach or learn — is complete without the 
 facility to express clear and beautiful 
 thought. This inheres in strong, sweet, 
 wholesome speech developed into a re- 
 sourceful tongue. 
 
 It is thought by some, that a man's 
 language mirrors his heart because he 
 voluntarily selects from an immense num- 
 ber of words a vocabulary to his liking 
 and according to his needs — words which 
 fit his mouth. But this is true in part 
 only, and of a relatively small number 
 of persons. Most folk have their words 
 thrust upon them; yet, notwithstanding 
 this, there is a nameless somewhat in 
 their language besides individual words, 
 
 71 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 that reveals character with terrible pre- 
 cision. Phraseology, intonation, gesture, 
 style: these are to be reckoned with. 
 So, in a subject simple enough at first 
 thought, is discovered increasing per- 
 plexity as we ponder it. 
 
 No one will deny that it would be better, 
 if all were rich enough in experience 
 with the beautiful, and fortunate enough 
 in blood, and broad enough in culture, 
 and philosophic enough in feeling, to 
 select our vocabulary wisely and well 
 from the elements of our tongue; but, 
 alas, as this is impossible at our present 
 stage of development, it becomes well- 
 nigh imperative, that the more favored in 
 this respect should concern themselves 
 with classic speech; trusting the press 
 and oral example to sow beautiful, strong 
 words with liberal hand, until holy 
 thought may widely blossom, and pure 
 speech bless a wilderness of weeds into a 
 world-garden of beautiful flowers. 
 
 72 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 Suggestion is a potent element in this 
 world's doings. It is powerful in lan- 
 guage, as elsewhere — more potent in 
 speech than many where, because it has to 
 do so largely with vast numbers. The 
 nature of an individual is rarely revolu- 
 tionized by essays or mere oral preach- 
 ments. The coarse man will be known 
 by his adjectives. Impulsiveness and 
 enthusiasm, logically, must deal with 
 superlative degrees. The real thinker 
 will show conscience and modesty in his 
 speech. The pure in heart will speak 
 from the fulness thereof, well knowing 
 that baseness lingers on the breath and 
 pollutes the air; that men have damned 
 themselves, even as they have glorified 
 themselves, with a single word. 
 
 "The magic of literature lies in the 
 words and not in any man. Witness, a 
 thousand excellent, strenuous words can 
 leave us quite cold or put us to sleep, 
 
 73 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 whereas a bare half-hundred words 
 breathed by some man in his agony, or 
 in his exaltation, or in his idleness, ten 
 generations ago can still lead whole 
 nations into and out of captivity, can 
 open to us the doors of three worlds, or 
 stir us so intolerably that we can scarcely 
 abide to look at our own souls." 
 
 Sweet words — strong words, chosen 
 with fine discrimination, scattered among 
 the multitude may revolutionize a race; 
 such is the ever-widening potency of 
 their suggestion as related to numbers. 
 It is fortunate that there is a fatality for 
 the beautiful and good in this world; for, 
 without it, all would have been lost ages 
 ago. 
 
 74 
 
II 
 
 The great of earth may be divided 
 into three classes: those who, by their 
 mastery of words, give Hfe to highest 
 art; those who, by their mastery of 
 harmony in sound, color and curve, 
 thrill beauty into being; and those stu- 
 dents in science who succeed without 
 special recourse to the mastery of words, 
 and without any marked reference to 
 the soul of beauty. 
 
 If Shakspere's fame needed other genius 
 than his own to send it "down the ringing 
 grooves of change," changeless in its 
 glory, IngersoU and Swinburne have sup- 
 plied the want. It seems to me, that they 
 have uttered the last word of praise; 
 that they have painted the perfect picture 
 of his marvellous soul with the matchless 
 pigments of their own; and that what- 
 
 75 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 ever more may be said must be merely 
 commonplace by comparison. 
 
 We know that Shakspere, consciously 
 or not, had to do with the soul of words. 
 He was easily king of metaphor. The 
 wondrous alchemy of his brain trans- 
 formed the gross to gold; it touched the 
 coarsest clay, and lo! it was aglow with 
 love. This many-sided man toyed with 
 words as a god might play with the hearts 
 of men; and this god-like dalliance of 
 his never brutalized his words. He 
 breathed upon them and they wept. 
 He threw them into careless, happy 
 throngs where mirth and rollick-laughter 
 soothed the hurts of day and banished 
 the ghosts of night. He peopled the 
 brain with beauty; threw strange sil- 
 houettes of shadow over the horizon's 
 edge; and far above the highest peaks 
 of thought, he sowed all the heavens of 
 the soul with myriad stars of hope. He 
 thought, and his words were wise; he 
 
 76 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 felt, and they thrilled with infinite pas- 
 sion; he looked out upon the green fields 
 of England, and in his soul every blossom 
 was mated with a word; every blade of 
 grass and leaf and brook and living 
 thing were tallied with the teeming sym- 
 bols of his brain. Within his heart the 
 very stones had speech. Words to him 
 were significant — more than lifeless blocks 
 with which to rear the glittering domes of 
 thought. He was an architect who built 
 with life. He gave to words their weight 
 and worth. He never debased a syllable 
 of his tongue — never mutilated a word — 
 never prostituted its meaning — never hu- 
 miliated it into slavery. Every word, 
 therefore, was a winged spirit eager to 
 do homage to his genius; and through all 
 these many years, they have served him 
 as faithfully as love ever serves the heart 
 of man. 
 
 / Herbert Spencer says: "Men ought to 
 regard their language as an inheritance 
 
 77 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 to be conserved, and improved so far as 
 that is possible, and ought not to degrade 
 it by reversion to lower types. It should 
 be a matter of conscience not to misuse 
 words; it should also be a matter of con- 
 science to resist misuse of them. Es- 
 pecially should our own language be 
 thus guarded. If, as several unbiased 
 foreign judges hold, the English language 
 will be, and ought to be, the universal 
 language, it becomes the more h duty 
 to mankind to check bad habits of speech.") 
 Robert G. Ingersoll, one of the greatest 
 masters of English speech, was also a 
 lover of words. He handled them with 
 the affection of a mother for her babe. 
 He arranged them always with reference 
 to three things: fact, force and beauty. 
 With supreme tact, he never mixed un- 
 congenial words. His art never had re- 
 course to trick. His antitheses were of 
 stress. Fact never marred the beauty of 
 his speech, and its beauty never weakened 
 
 78 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 its force. Within his heart dwelt in- 
 finite tenderness — even for words. 
 
 This is also true of all other great 
 poets — there is no secret in their craft; 
 Shakspere, Chaucer, Tennyson, Swin- 
 burne, Poe, Burns and Hugo! all were 
 lovers of words — and I hope of women. 
 And so it must ever be. Voltaire aptly 
 said: "The worst works are commonly 
 the most defective in language." 
 
 The genius of a tongue has reference 
 to harmony, and harmony in this sense 
 must be wooed primarily from the soul 
 of words. 
 
 /X)uT language is virtually a thing of 
 nfe; it is nourished by the people it 
 serves; it must flourish or decay, ex- 
 pand or shrink; it must grow clearer 
 and more beautiful, or more complex 
 and vague. Each one of us owes it a 
 precise duty. No one has a right to sin 
 against his mother tongue, and no one 
 should be excused for so doing. Our 
 
 79 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 words of daily use deserve and demand 
 the same hygienic cleanHness that our 
 persons deserve and demand. Beauty 
 demands that they shall not be mutilated; 
 utility demands that they shall not be 
 confused; decency demands that they 
 shall not be degraded; justice assures 
 them consideration. It is as important 
 to conserve the integrity and morality of 
 words, as of peoples; indeed, the morality 
 in one case may largely depend upon that 
 of the other. Clean speech is as wholfis. 
 sorne as ^e linen. Careful speech is a 
 form of real etiquette. Beautiful words 
 are better than royal purples, j 
 
 It is not meant by this that our daily 
 speech should be splinted in plaster 
 moulds, or in any other manner robbed of 
 its wholesome spontaneity, or that the 
 natural exuberance of feeling should be 
 suppressed, or that the heart should 
 smother its wails beneath the compressed 
 lips of false dignity. That is not human. 
 
 80 
 
The Soul of Words 
 
 Rigidity is rather more consistent with 
 death than with Ufe. Extremes seldom 
 promote lasting good. 
 
 If one is master of his words — heart to 
 heart at ease with them — his style need 
 concern him little. Style then is merely 
 a question of individual temperament, 
 and is ever lifeless, cold and false unless 
 based upon these : beauty, fact and force. 
 Uncongenial words must not be yoked 
 together; their companionship should be 
 governed by their inherent predominant 
 significances. Besides, there are the 
 equally insistent shades, subtleties of 
 humor, colors, tones and fractions of 
 tones which must be considered. Further- 
 more, a natural, easy, judicious allitera- 
 tion is essential to the noblest style; 
 and it is also essential to remember, that 
 the least bit too much of the alliterative 
 effect is worlds too much — ^it sounds 
 foolish — it is affectation — ^it is not art, 
 not style; and it robs words of their soul. 
 
 6 81 
 
POETRY 
 
POETRY 
 
 AND 
 
 ITS "threadbare" themes 
 
 OPINION varies as to what con- 
 stitutes poetry — otherwise less 
 rubbish would desecrate the 
 name; but difference of opinion shrinks 
 as people become learned and thoughtful. 
 The tendency of culture is always toward 
 intellectual socialism. The spirit of 
 enlightenment moves away from in- 
 tellectual anarchy. This blessed fact 
 consecrates our labor as we struggle to 
 acquire knowledge; it makes wisdom 
 holy. No one works and suffers to 
 become wise for himself, only. In 
 most cases it is not worth while. The 
 individual is little at best — mankind is 
 everything. Our gratitude for benefits 
 
 85 
 
Poetry 
 
 received from the laborers of the past is a 
 debt we must pay to the future. 
 
 Poetry today is a bank account de- 
 posited to our credit by our forefathers. 
 The every-day things of the dim past are 
 the rarely poetic things of the present. 
 The poetry of the future will excel that 
 of today, as the things of today out- 
 rank those of the yester years. 
 
 To the thoughtful, this is plain enough. 
 If all the learned folk were thoughtful, 
 there would be scarcely any diflFerence in 
 opinion, but as they are not, the learned 
 very often express themselves vdthout 
 deliberation. In such cases, the act is an 
 explosion rather than an opinion. It is a 
 kind of mishap which may be likened to 
 the powder-flash from the pan. Thus, 
 in the realm of chance, they discharge a 
 fact only once out of many times; and 
 even then the law of probability inter- 
 venes between the muzzle and the mark 
 in the majority of instances. 
 
 86 
 
Poetry 
 
 This may be the reason why some 
 worthy writers affirm that poetry is 
 merely a question of manner, not matter, 
 so to speak. In other words, that any- 
 thing might be coined into poetry, if the 
 manner be apt, the handhng skilful and 
 the form true. Others seem to think 
 that poetry is determined almost solely 
 by matter, and that manner is incidental. 
 
 Between these extreme view-points, 
 there is a broad common premise on 
 which to stand; but from either extreme, 
 argument is vain. As well say: 
 
 "What is mind ? No matter. 
 What is matter ? Never mind." 
 
 How a sensible person can deny that 
 poetry depends upon both form and 
 theme, is a perpetual wonder to me. I 
 can much mpre readily understand those 
 who inquire why poets so much concern 
 themselves with "threadbare" themes. 
 It is asked. Why do they not sing of the 
 
 87 
 
Poetry 
 
 new—oi the marvellous results of science, 
 of the wondrous laws of physics, lately 
 discovered — of the beautiful functions 
 of physiology, the mysterious phenomena 
 of energy, the amazing works of invention, 
 the intricacy of mechanics, the pathos of 
 sociology, and of the servitude and sput- 
 tering pranks of confined lightning? 
 Why do not the poets sing of these instead 
 of the human passions, the wonders and 
 beauties of nature, the charm of ethics, 
 the glories of war, and the phases of 
 religion sifted through the stained win- 
 dows of old cathedrals? It is sagely 
 prophesied that some time some great 
 poet will. 
 
 A little reflection discovers the im- 
 possibility of such a task at present. 
 The impossible should not be expected 
 even from a poet. All poetic themes 
 are, in a sense, organic. They must be 
 mellowed by time and have the enchant- 
 ment of association. They must have 
 
 88 
 
Poetry 
 
 the softened perspective which beauty 
 chisels from the years. New concep- 
 tions and new phases of conception rarely 
 lend themselves to poetry. Nothing can 
 be poetic that has not ripened in the heart 
 and brain of man. Countless ages of 
 subconscious impression, perhaps, are 
 essential. The flowing spring, the falling 
 snow, the sailing ship, the moody humors 
 of the sea, love and passion, the fireside 
 of home, the pathos of parting and joy 
 of reunion, birth and death, the hopes of 
 the heart, the dreams of the soul, the 
 deep wonder of the skies, the wailing of 
 the winds, strife and war, towering peak 
 and angry torrent, the silent plains reach- 
 ing out to embrace the sky, the painted 
 fields and sombre wood, day and night, 
 beauty fainting in the arms of tragedy, 
 the furies of mid- winter and the warm 
 heart of June — these are the poetic themes 
 that marry poetic form. 
 
 So it is with words. It is well under- 
 
Poetry 
 
 stood that certain words are poetic while 
 certain others, equally good, are not. 
 The poetic words are the old words, 
 many of them archaic. Newly coined 
 words, however sound and fit, seldom 
 serve the needs of poetic thought. This 
 shows how words grow into the very 
 soul of man. The symbols of poetry are 
 never the mushrooms of speech. 
 
 When, in the course of the ages, man 
 shall winnow from the results of science 
 the beautiful and good which are to 
 abide with him — when the nomenclature 
 of physics shall be as old and dear as the 
 words home and love now are — when the 
 phenomena of energy and the functions 
 of physiology shall inspire Art with 
 feeling — when machines shall bear affec- 
 tionate names, and sociology shall be 
 reduced to the simplest laws of sense — 
 when new applications of force shall 
 have transported us through the air for 
 a thousand years, and thus have become 
 
 90 
 
Poetry 
 
 old — when this world shall be looked 
 upon as the Fatherland, and other worlds 
 shall be visited as summer- and winter- 
 resorts, then may poets weave these 
 things into song ever warm on the Muse's 
 lips: — but not until then. 
 
 Poets who have already made the 
 attempt have failed, or succeeded in- 
 diiferently. Whitman has written much 
 that is incomparable poetry today; but 
 much, also, that he has written will not 
 be poetry until the centuries shall have 
 chastened his themes. And it may be 
 that the centuries will wear much of his 
 work away. Still, enough will remain, I 
 hope, to keep the wreath forever green 
 upon his memory. 
 
 The steam-engine is barely approach- 
 ing the poetic zone; by the time it reaches 
 it, maybe, it will be no more. But the 
 old spinning-wheel, the post-chaise and 
 the "fiery charger" are in the torrid zone 
 of song. No poet sings of the threshing 
 
 91 
 
Poetry 
 
 machine, nor of the splendid reaper that 
 does the work of many hands; but of the 
 beating flails he sings; and the sickle 
 and scythe hang on the apple-limbs in 
 the perpetual summer of his dreams. 
 So with the tall clock, the old tower, the 
 ivied wall, the ruined cathedral, the 
 crumbling chateau! these seem best in 
 song. 
 
 Love and all the common phases of 
 love — the beauty and tears of devotion — 
 the terrors of war — ^the fascination of the 
 passions — these have become part of 
 man by association and development 
 through the years : they are poetic matter. 
 The same is true concerning the eternal 
 question of the stars — the modest beauty 
 of trailing arbutus — the apologetic grace 
 of drooping violets — the poems of the 
 wood where streams of melody flow from 
 straining throats of happy birds, and 
 laughing brooks steal through silent beds 
 of moss; these are the "threadbare" 
 
 92 
 
Poetry 
 
 themes of poetry. Such as these must 
 concern the poet until the new shall 
 entwine, as a vine, the far-coming years. 
 
 93 
 
SYNTAX 
 
SYNTAX 
 
 AND 
 A WORD WITH PROFESSOR LOUNSBURY 
 
 The doctrine of the joining of words and sen- 
 tences, or syntax, treats of the laws of speech. 
 
 Maetzner. 
 
 SYNTAX is to the writer as technique 
 is to the painter. A great painter 
 is the master — not the slave — of his 
 technique. He is not bound by any set of 
 rules. And yet, his greatest freedom lies 
 in a careful observance of the natural 
 principles which govern his particular 
 art. The greater knowledge he has of 
 these principles, the greater is his facility 
 for the producing of a desired effect. 
 Whatever may be his style, proportionately 
 as he lacks this precise knowledge, his 
 work must lack the elements of a master- 
 
 7 97 
 
Syntax 
 
 piece, and to that extent will show weak- 
 ness or self-uncontrol. No great painter 
 has ever achieved his success through a 
 violation of these natural laws. If he has 
 conformed to their requirements uncon- 
 sciously, he has nevertheless conformed 
 to them essentially, if not unconditionally. 
 His technique — the mastery of his tools — 
 depends upon his knowledge of natural 
 phenomena which are related to the 
 evolution of his effect in art. In this, 
 feeling and imagination play no part — 
 since it is only after he has become 
 master of his technique, that he can deal 
 effectively with those higher requisites of 
 artistic expression and creation. 
 
 Words and phrases to the writer are as 
 media and pigments to the painter. It 
 is absurd to say that Art has nothing to 
 do with Science. A painter, for instance, 
 who violates the laws of chemistry, who 
 is regardless of the principles of optics, 
 who is heedless of the laws of harmony 
 
 98 
 
Syntax 
 
 in color, line, form and balance, and 
 who disregards the differences between 
 surface-hght and body-hght in his picture, 
 can never hope to produce a work of art. 
 So-called artistic temperament — feeling 
 and imagination — "cuts a poor figure" 
 when it conflicts with natural law. 
 
 With the writer it is precisely the 
 same. The art of language-expression 
 cannot attain its highest aim regardless 
 of syntax. And yet, the great writer 
 does not trouble himself about the rules 
 of grammar; — children and pedants do 
 that. He does not stop in the midst of 
 his thought to square some wry relations 
 which may, perchance, exist between 
 some fussy old verb and its stubborn 
 upstart-subject or object. He is more 
 concerned with the clear, strong and 
 beautiful expression of an idea, than 
 with some moot point of grammar. All 
 this is because the great writer is master 
 of his vocation. He observes the natural 
 
 99 
 
Syntax 
 
 harmonies of his tongue — the harmony 
 between thought and phrase and word. 
 He encompasses the unity of purpose 
 with the unity of effect. He considers 
 the real and not the fancied significances 
 of words. He regards the logic of posi- 
 tion and the need of balance. He is so 
 famihar with the natural principles which 
 govern the art of language-expression, 
 that grammars and rhetorical guide-books 
 encumber rather than help. He knows 
 perfectly well, that grammars are more 
 or less correct formulations or rules based 
 upon natural laws ; but, as he understands 
 the laws themselves, and their relations to 
 expression, he has no need of the rules. 
 
 So much for the master — the genius — 
 the great writer! Unfortunately, all men 
 are not masters of expression. Many 
 writers are not geniuses in this one respect, 
 at least; and yet, they are capable of 
 worthy and useful work. If such writers 
 find immediate help and stimulation to- 
 
 100 
 
Syntax 
 
 ward higher effort, in books devoted to 
 the science underlying correct expression, 
 and to its overlying art, then such books 
 are justified in spite of the awful con- 
 tempt of such mighty men as Professor 
 Lounsbury. 
 
 There are thousands of literary workers 
 in this world who, unlike Mr. Lounsbury 
 and a few others, have not "been born, so 
 to speak, in the purple." Yet there is 
 no reason why they should not acquire 
 by effort some small part, at least, of the 
 knowledge which Mr. Lounsbury received 
 at his "purple" birth; for only in this 
 way, perhaps, could the future Louns- 
 burys possess this useful acquisition. 
 It is reasonably certain, that not even 
 Mr. Lounsbury would object to this 
 plebeian method of the acquiring of 
 knowledge, if it were meekly suggested 
 to him that what is plebeian in one 
 generation may be quite aristocratic in 
 another. 
 
 101 
 
Syntax 
 
 Mr. Lounsbury thinks that the gram- 
 marian should be "taught to know his 
 place." That is perfectly right. A gram- 
 marian out of his place is a great nuis- 
 ance — almost as much so as the self- 
 appointed arbiter who would "school- 
 master" a tongue, and who would foist 
 upon a patient people the fusty vagaries 
 of a musty class-room. A grammarian 
 who does not know his place, may be very 
 decidedly disconcerting; and it is known 
 that he has been, on occasion, rather over- 
 bearing; besides, now and then, one is 
 gifted with an impish sense of the ridic- 
 ulous. At all events, a mere grammarian 
 has no business to point out any of the 
 many glaring syntactical mistakes of a 
 Professor "born in the purple" — and has 
 less right to laugh at scholastic pretense 
 too weak to "make good," or at scholastic 
 inheritance too slovenly to exercise care. 
 Certainly, Professor Lounsbury is not the 
 only great or little man who has made 
 
 102 
 
Syntax 
 
 mistakes. He deserves, therefore, neither 
 more ridicule nor less censure than the 
 others. But a mistake is a mistake, no 
 matter by whom made. 
 
 There is, possibly, no greater error in 
 fact than this — to quote more of Mr. 
 Lounsbury's own words : 
 
 "Take, for example, Latin. If a 
 word or construction occurs in Cicero, 
 the question of its propriety is settled at 
 once. No one thinks of disputing the 
 authority of so great a master of the 
 speech. 
 
 "The same principle applies to English. 
 It follows therefore that when we find 
 an expression of any sort [italics not his] 
 employed by a writer of the first rank, 
 the assumption must always be that this 
 particular expression is proper." 
 
 Mr. Cicero was a great authority by 
 virtue of his genius and by common con- 
 
 103 
 
Syntax 
 
 sent. No one doubts that. But neither 
 does any sane person believe for a mo- 
 ment that Cicero was incapable of error. 
 With all due reverence and respect for his 
 greatness, yet, be it said, he has never 
 been endowed with pontifical authority 
 over letters. He was not infallible. The 
 literary Pope has not yet been born. An 
 error by Cicero was no less an error 
 than one by Lounsbury, however gro- 
 tesque the comparison. In neither case 
 should an error be exalted or justified. 
 In science and art, as in other fields of 
 intellectual labor, there is no such thing 
 as lese majeste. Those of the "purple" 
 birth — of genius and undoubted author- 
 ity — are just as much mistaken when 
 they make linguistic errors, as are the 
 humblest born of their human fellows. 
 A mistake by the greatest of men is no 
 more sacred than one made by the least. 
 And an error in speech should no more 
 be emulated and condoned in the greatest 
 
 104 
 
Syntax 
 
 writer, or in the greatest authority in 
 linguistics, than in the speech of the pro- 
 verbial hod-carrier. For, to quote again 
 from Professor Lounsbury: "There are 
 matters in regard to which no height of 
 genius can supply the place of a little 
 accurate knowledge. When a great writer 
 steps forth to enlighten us upon a ques- 
 tion of language, for the proper consider- 
 ation of which an historical investigation 
 is essential, he has gone out of the prov- 
 ince where he is a recognized authority 
 and placed himself in a situation in which 
 in nine cases out of ten his words will 
 not carry so much weight as do those of 
 the dullest specialist who has made a 
 study of the origin and history of the 
 form or construction under discussion." 
 Professor Lounsbury unnecessarily con- 
 cerns himself, it seems to me, with "rules 
 which are constantly [meaning contin- 
 ually*] dangled before the eyes of inex- 
 
 * See The Worth of Words. 
 105 
 
Syntax 
 
 perienced writers." The rule of common- 
 sense, quite as much as of grammar, 
 which prohibits the comparative use of 
 the superlative adjective, is disdainfully 
 put aside. He has buttressed his con- 
 tentions by quoting the mistakes of 
 Cicero. Call something a "rule of gram- 
 mar" and the Professor becomes im- 
 patient. He exhibits errors in grammar 
 as gems of perfectness if only they be 
 found in the works of the wise. Because 
 Shakspere wrote, "Silence is the per- 
 Jectest herald of joy," he concludes that 
 "perfectest" is an adjective form justified 
 by "good usage." It matters not to him 
 that what the great Poet meant and 
 virtually said was merely, the herald of 
 joy NEAREST perfect. It is only fair 
 to presume that Shakspere, although not 
 of the cloth professorial, knew that if a 
 thing were perfect it could not be more 
 so, and that some things were nearer 
 perfect than others. The Professor also 
 
 106 
 
Syntax 
 
 quotes Bacon and others to prove that an 
 error if found in the writings of great 
 authors is not necessarily an error, but 
 rather an example of "good usage" to be 
 "constantly dangled before the eyes of 
 inexperienced writers." He quotes with 
 joy Spenser's lines: 
 
 "Against two foes of so exceeding might 
 The least of which was match for any knight." 
 
 Mr. Lounsbury searches through the 
 writings of the renowned for such ex- 
 amples and holds them to be marks of 
 "good usage" not only, but insists that 
 they are also protests against the forms of 
 grammar. He overlooks the fact that the 
 genius of the Masters arrogates to itself 
 various forms of "poetic license" for the 
 sake of meter or strength or diction, rather 
 than as protests against the "rules of 
 grammar." 
 
 107 
 
INTENSIVES 
 
INTENSIVES 
 
 WITHOUT the use of intensives, 
 speech would still be intelligible. 
 Old-maidish men could still spin 
 their pithless yarns in yawning clubs and 
 timorous professors could still maintain 
 a social status in a community of pious 
 gossips. Persons who mistake a puni- 
 ness of language for the politeness of 
 good breeding, would be able to pass 
 through life with little shock to their 
 sensitive souls. But language is for the 
 virile quite as much as it is for the moral 
 and intellectual eunuchs. Pious knaves 
 and meeklings, if unable to withstand the 
 sabre-strokes of speech, must step aside 
 or fall. Language, first of all, should 
 serve the strong, the robust in character 
 111 
 
Intensives 
 
 and the vigorous of soul. To do this it 
 must be rich. If it fail to express deep 
 feeling, it is poor. 
 
 Intensives belong to the class of sturdy 
 words. They batter heads better than 
 clubs. They are more explosive than 
 powder. They are excellent daggers with 
 which to pierce a villain's breast. Like 
 strong, sharp pins, they serve to transj&x 
 the little beetles of our kind. They 
 stimulate the lethargic, clench meaning 
 into the mind of man, and even fashion 
 gilded masks of flattery with which to 
 please the vanity of some women. Like 
 snell arrows, these words pierce the heart 
 and quicken its beat. Even profanity, 
 so called, is not only useful at times, but 
 highly moral as well. It may be invigor- 
 ating and wholesome. It may be defi- 
 nite, and it often clears the atmosphere. 
 Curses have thundered down the ages. 
 They are, on occasion, as eloquent as 
 prayer — and just about as helpful. Pro- 
 
 118 
 
Iniensives 
 
 fanity, quite as much as a sermon, may 
 stand for righteousness. 
 
 When Abraham Lincoln was a young 
 man he visited a slave-market in New 
 Orleans. "A young colored girl was 
 on the block. Lincoln heard the brutal 
 words of the auctioneer — the savage re- 
 marks of the bidders. The scene filled 
 his soul with indignation and horror. 
 Turning to his companions, he said, 
 ' Boys, if I ever get a chance to hit slavery, 
 by God, I'll hit it hard!" If Lincoln's 
 use of emphasis in this case was profane, 
 then love, the holiest word of all our 
 speech, is wicked. 
 
 For comparison, let us substitute for 
 Lincoln's righteous words, this weak and 
 wretched phrase: Boys, if I should ever 
 have the opportunity to smite slavery I 
 shall do so with great force. Very gentle- 
 manly, and equally insipid! 
 
 When Farragut was told of the tor- 
 pedoes in the way of his ships, if he had 
 
 8 113 
 
Intensives 
 
 said : Never mind the torpedoes, go ahead! 
 that would have been great. What he 
 did say was: "Damn the torpedoes, go 
 ahead!" and that was brave — sublime. 
 
 Of course, the opposite extreme of 
 under-statement may be used as 
 effectively by a genius as the most in- 
 tense expletive. Admiral Dewey at the 
 battle of Manila affords us a good ex- 
 ample of this: "You may fire when you 
 are ready, Gridley." There was the sup- 
 pressed force of a volcano in that phrase. 
 It was splendid, ominous. It was the 
 calm before the blast. 
 
 A wise man was in a position of vast 
 power. He had a keen sense of humor 
 and was renowned for his courage. He 
 disliked the grotesque and abhorred 
 shams. He stood for a great deal him- 
 self that was strong, honorable and just; 
 and he believed that everybody and 
 everything should likewise stand for some- 
 thing sensible, at least, or give way. 
 
 114 
 
Intensives 
 
 He caused the motto: "In God we trust" 
 to be left off our newly minted coins. 
 He knew, as others know, that during 
 the downward months of the year 1907 
 that motto on our currency was less ap- 
 propriate and far more sacrilegious than 
 would be the famous Kentucky phrase 
 which ends in "highwater." 
 
 Surely, if it is advisable for a virtuous 
 nation to iterate its trust in God on its 
 commercial counters, it might as well 
 repeat on them the assurances of its 
 stand for the "square deal" — ^its honest 
 intent, and pledge to redeem its promises, 
 "In spite of hell and highwater," as they 
 say in Kentucky. Seriously, a motto of 
 any kind on a coin is absurd. It re- 
 peats itself so often in the pockets of the 
 few, and so seldom and tersely in the 
 pockets of the many, that it loses all 
 meaning. "In God we trust" on coins 
 to the rich is ridiculous — it is a joke. 
 To the poor it is pathetic — it is like the 
 
 115 
 
Intensives 
 
 far-away look in the dying eyes of a 
 starving man — ^it means too much and 
 too Httle. One trouble is, that too much 
 reiteration smacks of weakness. It is 
 Hke the ceaseless "Katy did" and "Katy 
 didn't." It soon becomes meaningless 
 and foolish. The over-use of stimulants 
 is depressing. Too many intensives, or 
 intensives too often repeated, are sure to 
 destroy their eflfect. 
 
 We all applaud the hero who, under 
 desperate odds and overwhelming con- 
 ditions, is called upon to surrender and 
 stoutly replies: "Damned if I will!" 
 And we all despise the weakling who, 
 on every slight occasion, makes use of the 
 same phrase. 
 
 Strong words of the wise and great 
 become as milk and water in the mouths 
 of the weak and foolish — an imitation — a 
 worthless counterfeit. The stress of the 
 moment and the strong man — the hour 
 and the hero — plant curses among the 
 
 116 
 
Intensives 
 
 stars — sow intensives over the heavens 
 to be reflected in all human speech. 
 The same words without the force back 
 of them, and without the occasion fit to 
 give them birth, are disgusting vulgar- 
 isms as nauseous as they are senseless. 
 Expletives properly used are never cheap- 
 ened; the great occasion is not suflB- 
 ciently recurrent, nor are strong men 
 sufficiently numerous to weaken their 
 eflFect, or destroy their force. 
 
 The sturdiest character that my child- 
 hood knew, was wont to exclaim when 
 surprised by some hideous abomination, 
 or vexed into unusual anger: "Hell and 
 scissors!" And I am sure that I never 
 heard anything more eloquent, and I 
 think that I never heard anything more 
 holy in human speech. 
 
 For an expletive to remain forceful, it 
 must take on the local coloring of a strong 
 personality, which somehow gives it birth- 
 right. It must seem to be original — it 
 
 117 
 
Intensives 
 
 must seem to be warranted, or it must 
 not be often repeated. 
 
 Human speech abounds in a variety 
 of expletives. Some are used only for 
 emphasis and others for euphemism. 
 Some express energy, assurance; others 
 are cumulative in effect — some express 
 clearness and seek to make a truth seem 
 doubly true, or "assurance doubly sure." 
 Many are unjustifiable locutions and 
 redundant. There is the expletive usage 
 of synergetic words which multiply the 
 stress of an idea. Examples are not 
 lacking. We have in daily use, "might 
 and main," "honor bright," "as sure 
 as heaven," "many a time and oft," 
 "hue and cry," "receipt and acknow- 
 ledge," "acknowledge and confess," "be- 
 queath and convey," "well and good," 
 "true as gospel," and "safe and sane." 
 
 On the occasion of Henry W. Grady's 
 address before the Boston Merchants' 
 Association, he "became the lion of the 
 
 118 
 
Intensives 
 
 hour, feted by fashion and showered 
 with attentions from the Hub's most 
 conservative social circle. At an even- 
 ing reception given to him at one of the 
 most exclusive homes in aristocratic 
 Beacon Street, when the editor was mak- 
 ing his departing devoir the hostess 
 pleaded: 'Now, Mr. Grady, please do 
 say something original. My other guests 
 have all said, 'I've had a most delightful 
 evening,' or 'I've enjoyed myself exceed- 
 ingly,' or something equally trite and 
 stupid. I expect something better from 
 you.' Grady placed his hand over his 
 heart in cavalier fashion and with the 
 most courtly bow of which he was capable 
 he declared with great earnestness, 'Ma- 
 dam, I have had one hell of a time.' 
 Not even a suggestion of surprise dis- 
 turbed the repose of her patrician features 
 as his hostess promptly replied in tones 
 of perfect breeding, 'Mr. Grady, I am 
 damned glad of it.'" 
 
 119 
 
Intensives 
 
 Finally, Poetry is the ricli field of in- 
 tensives. Shakspere grew the finest and 
 most varied crop in the history of man- 
 kind. 
 
 ISO 
 
VARIATIONS IN WORD- 
 MEANINGS 
 
VARIATIONS IN WORD- 
 MEANINGS 
 
 EVERY word is born with a mean- 
 ing; its determination is precise; it 
 is the symbol of a definite idea 
 — the shadow of concrete substance, in 
 one case — ^the memory of the shadow, in 
 another. 
 
 A nascent word may be called a 
 cameo of thought carved from sound. 
 For a time it is fixed. If the word is the 
 name of a concrete thing, it represents 
 to the senses some striking attribute, or 
 supposed attributes, of the thing. If, on 
 the other hand, the word is an abstract 
 term, it conveys the impression of some 
 property or quality common to two or 
 more things. 
 
 133 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 It follows that concrete terms precede 
 the abstract, and that both in the begin- 
 ning are of precise and inflexible definition. 
 This rigidity of definition is maintained 
 so long as the word stimulates the con- 
 ception to one degree of intensity and 
 to one scope. But as human knowledge 
 is the subject of change, which may be 
 likened to growth, the attributes of a 
 thing are revealed more and more, until 
 the number of their possible relations 
 comes to an end. And since conception 
 fluctuates as a tide, so to say, it follows 
 that the original meaning of a word 
 speedily becomes inadequate on the one 
 hand, and shifted on the other. 
 
 Moreover, as knowledge of a thing in- 
 creases, its supposed attributes usually 
 decrease, while its relatively few real 
 qualities become more apparent and seem 
 to increase in number. The original 
 meaning of many words, therefore, soon 
 becomes modified ; in some instances, its 
 
 124 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 falsity bears it down — in others, its use- 
 lessness kills it; but more often, the word 
 withdraws itself from its former connota- 
 tion to embrace a wider meaning, or else 
 changes its meaning altogether. 
 
 Thus we see in a great number of 
 words the process of change in mean- 
 ing, which can be followed clearly step 
 by step. For example: Damp originally 
 meant wet, humid, moist; and it still has 
 that meaning; but it has also acquired 
 additional meaning by the process of 
 association, because the condition of 
 dampness is so often accompanied with 
 chilliness. Hence the idea of cold is 
 associated with the word damp. From 
 this added meaning came the metaphor: 
 "dampening one's ardor" — that is to 
 say, cooling it; and so on to the word 
 damper, that which shuts oflf the draft of 
 a stove, which bears no reference what- 
 ever to the original meaning of the word 
 damp. 
 
 125 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 Dry, in a similar manner, has become 
 modified in meaning when applied to 
 certain wines. 
 
 Street once meant "a paved way with 
 or without houses"; it means at present 
 a road, paved or not, bordered with 
 houses. 
 
 Impertinent primarily indicated that 
 which was irrelevant, but gradually came 
 to mean intrusive, insolent, meddlesome 
 and unmannerly. 
 
 Gentleman at first signified a man born 
 in a certain social class or rank; after a 
 while it meant a man whose happy sur- 
 roundings were such as usually belonged 
 to one in that station of life. Later the 
 term implied, to the vulgar at least, a man 
 who lived without labor; again, it was 
 applied to a man whose conduct and out- 
 ward appearance generally were supposed 
 to belong to one born and bred in high 
 
 126 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 social position; and at last, the word 
 gentleman means nothing, or at best, 
 it is synonymous with the word snob. 
 
 Loyalty is another word that has gone 
 through various vicissitudes of meaning: 
 from "fair, open dealing and fidelity to 
 engagements," it came to signify merely 
 fidelity to the throne, and lastly, to em- 
 brace faithfulness in friendship. So, too, 
 have the words only and alone been con- 
 fused; and salt, a term formerly given to 
 sodium chloride only, is no longer ap- 
 plied to that substance alone. 
 
 Oil is another notable example. This 
 word at one time meant merely olive oil; 
 but now it is applied to any number of 
 substances having some superficial quality 
 in common with it. 
 
 Pagan. Pagus was the name of a 
 village or settlement; hence, fag anus 
 meant a villager or semi-countryman; 
 
 127 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 but when Christianity spread over the 
 Roman Empire, the inhabitants of the 
 cities, quite naturally, were the first to 
 be converted, while the great mass of 
 the country people, or pagans, adhered 
 to their ancient divinities. Thus this 
 association between pagan and a believer 
 in "heathen divinities," altered the mean- 
 ing of the word until it became a reproach, 
 and at last an epithet meaning merely a 
 heathen. 
 
 We find, in like manner, many words 
 which were formerly used to express 
 general characteristics, restricted to spe- 
 cial things. Arsenic is one of these. This 
 word was derived from a Greek term 
 "which was an ancient epithet applied 
 to those natural substances which pos- 
 sessed strong and acrimonious properties." 
 So, as orpiment (arsenious sulphide) 
 was known as a powerful poison, its 
 dominant ingredient was called arsenic. 
 
 128 
 
Variations in Word- meanings 
 
 Verbena was once a general term given 
 to all plants which, being used in sacri- 
 ficial rites, were held to be sacred. But 
 from this general application, the term 
 was restricted to the one plant, of which 
 there are over eighty varieties. At last 
 verbena came to be the vulgar name of 
 one particular plant. Likewise, the word 
 vitriol was formerly applied to any trans- 
 parent, crystalline body (vitrum, glass). 
 
 Opium is another word which pri- 
 marily meant any juice; but which has 
 become restricted to the juice of the 
 poppy. 
 
 Elaterium, according to Hippocrates, 
 signified "various internal applications, 
 especially purgatives of a violent and 
 drastic nature." Now the word is ap- 
 plied exclusively to the dried sediment 
 from the juice of the squirting cucumber. 
 
 £^ccZma meant assembly; bishop, over- 
 
 9 129 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 seer; deacon, administrator; sacrament, 
 vow of allegiance; evangelium, good 
 tidings. 
 
 Physician (naturalist) came to mean 
 "a healer of diseases, because, until a 
 comparatively late period, medical prac- 
 tisers were the only naturalists"; just 
 as clerc (clericus) signified a scholar; 
 since, at a certain period, members of the 
 clergy were about the only scholars; 
 hence, clerc naturally came to designate 
 an ecclesiastic. Such illustrations as 
 these could be multiplied indefinitely. 
 
 We find diversity to be a powerful 
 element in causing variations in word- 
 meanings. The common experience of 
 mankind proves that no two persons are 
 constituted alike. Individual conception 
 varies from a trifling shade to great and 
 complex diflferences. No two experiences 
 are precisely the same. No two view- 
 
 130 
 
J aviations in Word-meanings 
 
 points are exactly equal. The various 
 qualities of a thing never impress two 
 persons alike for any considerable time. 
 The relative importance of one charac- 
 teristic differs from another according 
 to the mind impressed. The receptive 
 faculty, unconsciously, is strongly selec- 
 tive of impressions; and the different 
 attributes of an object receive different 
 groupings by each individual. So that 
 no one term is defined for any length 
 of time exactly the same in the concep- 
 tion of two or more persons; and 
 while the definitive differences may at 
 first be little more than mere shades of 
 impress, these shades deepen by habit, 
 environment and experience until they 
 become more and more pronounced 
 through generations of men. 
 
 When we add to this the influence of 
 diversity in natural capability, grades of 
 intellect and culture, it is not difficult to 
 see clearly why word-meanings change, 
 
 131 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 and why they must continue to change 
 through an immense period of time. 
 For language must serve the users of 
 language; and so long as the overwhelm- 
 ing majority of language-users sees the 
 properties of things vaguely through dim 
 light and shifting shadow — and while it 
 conceives even less of the origin of these 
 properties — the meanings of words must 
 necessarily accommodate themselves to 
 usage. 
 
 Not until definite knowledge becomes 
 more general and conception less fluc- 
 tuating, will it be possible to form perfect 
 definitions of words which shall have 
 lasting and fixed values. Theory must 
 conform to subject-matter, and science 
 must sweep away the debris. , 
 
 And lastly, be it said that degeneration 
 of the English tongue is aided materially 
 by a large and growing number of un- 
 educated writers, together with a horde 
 of "professionals," who succeed admir- 
 
 132 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 ably in disrupting our speech. Very 
 many of these folk are woefully ignorant 
 of the instrument they misuse. By ex- 
 ample they legitimize, as it were, countless 
 vulgarisms. Through suggestion they 
 sow broadcast, into the minds of the un- 
 lettered, vicious corruptions of speech, 
 depriving English of many valuable bear- 
 ers of clear thought. 
 
 The greater the tendency shown by 
 word-meanings to change and shift, the 
 stronger is the reason why every intelli- 
 gent Unguist should strive to use terms 
 of unmistakable meaning. Every word 
 should express its meaning perfectly, 
 and every fact should be precisely paral- 
 leled by a word; otherwise language 
 cannot serve its full purpose. 
 
 Not that the daily tongue of a people 
 should be fixed, as is the case, in a way, 
 with the descriptive technical language 
 of this or that science; but the termin- 
 ology should fit the facts of daily rele- 
 
 133 
 
Variations in Word-meanings 
 
 vance. For the exact nomenclature of 
 science is no more important than a 
 clear general terminology. 
 
 134 
 
STYLE 
 
STYLE 
 
 STYLE is more easily recognized than 
 defined. It is the subtlest element of 
 expression, and may be termed the 
 purely personal in art. This is affirmed 
 by the French, who say: "The style is the 
 man"; and by Herbert Spencer, who 
 declares it to be organic. 
 
 As relating to letters, style dwells 
 rather more in the manner of using 
 words than in the words themselves. 
 It is convenient to speak of it as the soul 
 of thought — the personeity of ideas — the 
 picture of mental process — the atmos- 
 phere of feeling — the tongue of sentiment. 
 It is fitly described, in general, as strong 
 or weak, smooth or rough, light or heavy, 
 spirited or nervous, beautiful and fine, 
 or ugly and coarse. It is essentially 
 
 137 
 
Style 
 
 complex; for it is composed of many 
 qualities. 
 
 A very important element of good 
 style is fitness; and it requires an artist 
 to understand the difficulty in altogether 
 suiting the style to the subject. The 
 propriety of association is not doubted; 
 but few persons are able to encompass 
 it, since the difficulties of adjustment are 
 hard to overcome. It is plain enough 
 that a light, jocular style would ill be- 
 come a treatise on mathematics; nor 
 would clearness alone, which is so es- 
 sential in a dissertation on science, lend 
 itself to romance, which requires color 
 and adornment to heighten effects. A 
 similar truth applies to architecture : The 
 ^temple is not built like the cottage, nor 
 is the palace like the jail; however like 
 may be the resemblance of the inmates 
 of both. So the style of a comic story 
 should differ from that of a funeral ora- 
 tion, although it does not always do so. 
 
 138 
 
Style 
 
 A presidental address intended to in- 
 fluence the votes of a labor organization 
 might, on occasion, smack a Httle of 
 GaeUc, but it should never savor too 
 much of a sermon; that is to say, it 
 should not be too humorous, considering 
 who is the natural butt of the joke. 
 Comedy should not borrow boldness from 
 the ode, pathos from tragedy, nor meta- 
 phor from the epic. Language varies ac- 
 cording to circumstance. The language 
 of science is not easily comprehended by 
 the average person. The same applies 
 to art and to other specialized divisions 
 of effort. In science, a clear, strong style 
 is appropriate; but in artistic literature 
 there should be agreeable qualities which 
 charm the reader and hold his attention 
 as much by the beauty of expression as 
 by the beauty of thought. Thus a striv- 
 ing after subtle shades and delicate effects 
 is not only legitimate, but essential, on 
 occasion, to good style. In plain words. 
 
 139 
 
Style 
 
 every kind of execution demands a style 
 to fit it. 
 
 Besides fitness, clearness and beauty 
 supported by strength are necessary to 
 good style. The first purpose of style, 
 as of language, should be clearness of 
 expression; and almost equally with 
 this come strength and beauty. The 
 neglect of any one of these qualities mars 
 the style; for apart from being necessary, 
 they overlap each other. For example, 
 beauty is never wholly lacking in clearly 
 expressed thought. 
 
 It is said that style cannot be taught. 
 This, I think, is partly a mistake. Not 
 that one may be taught to be master of 
 style; but that his style may be vastly 
 improved by culture, is true without 
 doubt. An uncultivated mind may pro- 
 duce an admirable style. From the same 
 mind, under the influence of culture, 
 would issue an elegant style. The per- 
 sonal element is largely important; and 
 
 140 
 
Style 
 
 the essentials of good style are many 
 — several are innate: the faculty of 
 choosing apt words, of evolving fresh 
 metaphor, of combining variety with 
 beauty and clearness, and the ability to 
 season all with euphony. 
 
 In one person, the quality of uncon- 
 scious imitation may produce a better 
 style than much cultivation; while the 
 same may not be at all true of another. 
 But generally speaking, nothing else is 
 so helpful in this respect as broad culture, 
 which is opposed to special culture. By 
 this is meant, that merely the studying 
 of grammar and rhetoric will do little in 
 itself for the building up of a worthy 
 style. More than one subject must be 
 studied, to the end that from a well-stored 
 brain, used to independent thought, comes 
 the unconscious formation of style. The 
 things we do unconsciously are the things 
 we do best. 
 
 While style concerns itself more with 
 
 141 
 
Style 
 
 manner than with the matter of words, 
 these are, nevertheless, important. A 
 perfect understanding of individual words 
 is necessary. Words bear delicate re- 
 lations to one another. They possess 
 that which is similar to color, to tones 
 and half-tones; they produce the high- 
 lights and shadows of sound. They 
 must be thrown into well-constructed sen- 
 tences which are logical, which contain 
 the hint of rhythm and the faint spirit 
 of alliteration. A sentence, moreover, 
 should never leave a reader in doubt. 
 Sentences should vary in length, while 
 the perspective of the whole should have 
 artistic trappings of speech in sufficient 
 amount to hold the attention, but not 
 enough to obscure the meaning. In a 
 word, the value of thought aids the effect 
 of style, just as style heightens the effect 
 of thought. 
 
 In these days purity of language is 
 decried by many English writers. The 
 
 142 
 
Style 
 
 use of idiomatic words, and what might 
 be termed native construction, are not so 
 much insisted upon as formerly. This 
 is not surprising in such a language as 
 ours, which makes large drafts upon 
 foreign languages and has made them for 
 so long a time. Changes are inevitable 
 in a living language, and this is not an 
 unreasonable change. There are those 
 who plead for even a freer introduction 
 of foreign words and phrases. What- 
 ever one may think of the propriety of 
 restricting this introduction, the effort to 
 do so will fail. It may be looking a 
 long way ahead to prophesy that at some 
 time but one language will be spoken by 
 all the people of earth; and yet no 
 prophecy could be based on more certain 
 grounds. The signs are already well- 
 marked, indicating that eventually only 
 one language will be spoken, and that 
 tongue will be an amalgamated tongue. 
 The process of amalgamation has been 
 
 143 
 
Style 
 
 going on from time immemorial; and a 
 vast deal of progress is apparent. But 
 the increasing facilities for intercourse 
 between all the inhabitants of the globe 
 assures to the process of amalgamation of 
 tongues a greater rapidity in the coming 
 centuries than there has been through 
 those of the past. At the present rate 
 at which our language is spreading, it 
 is not hazardous to assume that English 
 will be the basis upon which all other 
 languages will meet to form one. The 
 probability is increased almost to a 
 certainty, when we stop to note how well 
 English is adapted to this amalgamat- 
 ing process. Foreign words, like foreign 
 blood, soon become part of us. The 
 tendency is to appropriate such as suit 
 our purposes best. There is no stemming 
 the tide in this direction — the best that 
 can be done is to exercise a reasonable 
 conservatism in the choice of foreign 
 words. The good should be accepted 
 
 144 
 
Style 
 
 and made over into English with httle 
 ado; and their aptness should govern 
 their selection. That is to say, words 
 should parallel material facts in prose 
 composition. In poetry a greater free- 
 dom is allowable, not so much in the 
 employment of new words, for they rarely 
 lend themselves to poetic themes, nor yet 
 in foreign words which are stiff upon 
 early acquaintance; but rather in the 
 absolute and pictorial parts of speech, 
 many of which are archaic. 
 
 In prose, good style avoids the unusual 
 and excludes verboseness. First, for the 
 sake of clearness; and second, to avoid 
 the appearance of stiltedness. The sug- 
 gestion of vanity breaks the continuity of 
 thought. Mannerisms arrest attention. 
 An undue use of foreign words suggests a 
 poverty of language, which is offensive 
 and antagonistic to wholesome style. 
 
 Good words should be chosen, and a 
 word cannot be good that is not precise. 
 
 10 145 
 
Style 
 
 Good style avoids words of loose meaning. 
 It also abhors superfluities, incongruities, 
 duplications of meaning and defects of 
 construction. It has long been noticeable 
 that the writers who think clearly and 
 with precision are those who use words 
 of definite meaning and appropriate bear- 
 ing. Accuracy in thinking seems to be 
 necessary to clear writing. Words are 
 faultily used which fail to express fully 
 the ideas intended. Mere similarity in 
 meaning will not do; neither should they 
 express more than the intent of the 
 utterer. Precision, therefore, is essential 
 to good style. Looseness of expression is 
 as bad as ill-fitting garments. More- 
 over, the words should never suggest 
 a wavering apprehension. Good style 
 needs the strength that comes from a 
 fixedness of purpose and unswering dic- 
 tion — a certain directness which is paral- 
 lel to a noble attribute of moral conduct. 
 Furthermore, that a style may be free 
 
 146 
 
Style 
 
 from blemish, it must not concern itself 
 with too much at one time : it must avoid 
 diff useness. Conception becomes clouded 
 when the mental process is forced to 
 deal with two or more things at the same 
 time. Ideas should be treated singly 
 and in sequence; otherwise they are not 
 seen clearly, and no power of multiplied 
 words is sufficient to render them so. 
 It is a safe rule to follow: the fewer the 
 words used to express a purpose, the 
 better the style. 
 
 Nothing else is so important to good 
 style as good judgment, for this must 
 determine, after all, every nicety within 
 its scope. In some instances, over-pre- 
 cision is offensive because it smacks of 
 conceit, and depreciates the reader's 
 understanding. There are some subjects 
 that do not lend themselves to precise treat- 
 ment; they demand broad touches which 
 suggest rather than point out. In such 
 cases the greatest possible care should 
 
 147 
 
Style 
 
 be exercised in the choice of words; 
 otherwise the result will be vulgar on the 
 one hand, or not understandable on the 
 other. The greatest nicety is required 
 in suggesting, where telling would be 
 common and inartistic. 
 
 Many writers are too much given to a 
 parade of words. Their ideas are lost 
 in gaudy colors, or lessened by pomp. 
 There is no excuse for saying, for instance, 
 The Great General, The Master Poet, 
 The Mighty Genius and Judge of Art; 
 when meaning, respectively. Napoleon, 
 Shakspere, and Aristotle, unless it is 
 clearly understood to whom these titles 
 refer. 
 
 Again, the injudicious employment of 
 synonyms is confusing; but skilfully used, 
 they serve a high purpose in art. With 
 a full knowledge of their differences in 
 shades of meaning, they may be used aa 
 a painter applies his colors. One word 
 supplies the defect of another. Where 
 
 148 
 
Style 
 
 one is weak another is strong; and where 
 one is dim another adds lustre. Con- 
 trasts are struck — tone is maintained, 
 and lo ! cathedral chimes pour forth their 
 harmony. Each word then adds its worth 
 to the perfect whole. The picture is 
 complete. But if the synonymous words 
 are used carelessly, the picture is marred 
 — it becomes a daub. 
 
 In the world of letters there are 
 wide and delicate differences in style, 
 just as there are in individuals who 
 write. Yet there is a standard of cor- 
 rect style, as there is of morals. And 
 while morals may be said to depend 
 somewhat on geographical location and 
 the "spirit of the times" in one century as 
 differing from the morals of other places 
 and epochs, yet through the ages there is 
 a standard of ethics which, in the main, 
 diflfers not among the peoples of earth, 
 especially in periods not enormously 
 separated. So we find the underlying 
 
 149 
 
Style 
 
 principles in literature paralleled by cer- 
 tain characteristics of individuals. And 
 as environment affects the style of one, 
 it also sways that of the other. 
 
 Besides this, the quality of imitation 
 which affects in a small way the style 
 of a people from time to time, is owing 
 to a fondness to seem rather than a 
 desire to be. This accounts for the 
 grotesque. Again, there are tricks of 
 style just as there are mannerisms of 
 speech or action; but the artist and 
 thinker do not need to have recourse to 
 these. Such things are blemishes to a 
 noble style. 
 
 What Mr. Blair calls "copiousness" 
 of style was much in vogue a few cen- 
 turies back. At present, English writers 
 have swung toward the opposite ex- 
 treme, and instead of a copious style, 
 affect rather a lean or stingy one. The 
 copious style, if not overdone, lends itself 
 admirably to the expression of grace and 
 
 150 
 
Style 
 
 beauty; but as all things become weari- 
 some when pressed to the extreme, this, 
 too, may readily lead us astray. 
 
 Aifectation is deadly to a beautiful 
 style — nothing fits it better than sin- 
 cerity. The importance of style can 
 hardly be overrated. For its influence 
 is almost as marked as the thought 
 it conveys. Above all, style must not 
 antagonize the spirit of a tongue. Eng- 
 lish lends itself to copiousness and French 
 to the epigrammatic. In one, grace is 
 the most noticeable quality, just as the 
 scintillating quality inheres in the other. 
 
 To sum up: 
 
 All good work depends upon style, 
 which may be simple or elevated. The 
 ideas must be accurate, the language 
 should be approximately pure, and there 
 should be propriety of expression. He- 
 roic language ill becomes the neatherd. 
 Indeed, the greatest defect in style is 
 the sinning against genius, rather than 
 
 151 
 
Style 
 
 the breaking of rules. And it should 
 be remembered that style is weak when 
 unrelieved by ingenuity of expression; 
 that flowery style is agreeable rather 
 than profound; that deficiency of soul 
 is deadly to style, and that sterile ideas 
 render it cold. 
 
 152 
 
DISTINCTIONS IN WORD- 
 MEANINGS 
 
DISTINCTIONS IN WORD- 
 MEANINGS 
 
 MENTAL phenomena could not ex- 
 ist without physical phenomena. 
 There is no real chasm between 
 "spiritual" and physical things; what 
 seems to be a mysterious gulf is the 
 fog of ignorance, for the most part, of 
 distinction in word-meanings. 
 
 By some mental process, not yet de- 
 fined, many words have come into being 
 which serve, apparently, the sole purpose 
 of confusion. These sprites of Babel 
 have no counterparts in fact, sense or 
 reason. They are not justified by any 
 characteristic of the physical world. 
 They belong essentially to the realm 
 of phantoms. They may be called, also, 
 the fungi of disorder, or the children 
 
 155 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 of phantasy; or, even, the spume- waifs 
 of crazy psychic currents, which obscure 
 the thoughts of men with the froth-words 
 of unreaHty. 
 
 The statement will bear scrutiny, I 
 think, that every legitimate, word is 
 born of parallel physical and mental 
 phenomena. For a word to be useful 
 it must mean something. The more defi- 
 nite its meaning, the more useful it 
 is. Every physical phenomenon should 
 be accurately reflected in a corresponding 
 mental phenomenon. A word is the 
 most available mirror that man has 
 found to reflect upon the mind the 
 image of a fact. There are distinc- 
 tions between facts. There should be 
 corresponding distinctions between the 
 words that connote the facts. Define a 
 word. Is it justified by fact.? That is 
 the real test. Language is a loose con- 
 trivance of man; and words are, in too 
 many instances, unfortunate; they fail to 
 
 156 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 show the distinctions that they should rep- 
 resent. It will be one of the most im- 
 portant tasks of the future, to select for 
 use the words which are fit, by their in- 
 herent power, to portray definite facts, and 
 to weed out such as are not. It is most 
 Ukely that this will be done by the slow 
 process of devolution and regeneration in 
 the evolution of language. 
 
 Physical facts have their distinctions; 
 and words, which are parallel facts, 
 must conform to these distinctions. With- 
 out this, language, in which thought 
 naturally finds its fullest and most logi- 
 cal expression, must fail to perform 
 perfectly its clear purpose. Usage and 
 custom are blind and diffusive where 
 the ultimate object of language is 
 considered. Every distinction between 
 words is unjustified, unless there is back 
 of it a distinction in fact. Superfluous 
 words should be ejected, and the size of 
 dictionaries, as a consequence, lessened. 
 
 157 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 Just as there is somewhat similar to 
 parallelism between mental process and 
 physical process, so there is parallelism 
 between the physical organism and its 
 environment; or, in the words of Pro- 
 fessor Simon E. Patten: "between eco- 
 nomics and biology .... The dis- 
 tinctions in organisms run parallel to 
 those in the environment, and those of 
 the one may be expressed in terms 
 of the other." There is no reason why 
 the ingenuity of man should fail in 
 the making of his words to fit their 
 distinctions as accurately as need be. 
 The method of induction alone is in- 
 sufficient to do this; for it will be seen 
 that language is governed by primary 
 laws, even as is life. Purely inductive 
 studies must fail to produce a suitable 
 vocabulary. What real distinctions do 
 many psychologic terms indicate ? Their 
 very vagueness makes it almost im- 
 possible to write a clear paragraph on a 
 
 158 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 subject in psychology. And why is this ? 
 Because the physiologic distinctions are 
 not tallied by the psychologic distinc- 
 tions of words. To quote again from 
 Dr. Patten: "Every mental fact has 
 some physical expression. The test, 
 therefore, of the reality of a psychic 
 distinction is its correspondence to a 
 physical difference, and this test should 
 be applied in defining terms." 
 
 Many examples might be cited show- 
 ing the confusion of word-meanings, or 
 lack of proper distinction in their em- 
 ployment. A few will do : 
 
 It is a matter of well nigh daily occur- 
 rence to hear the words faculty, talent, 
 capacity and ability confused. The dis- 
 tinctions in the meanings of these words 
 are sometimes neglected by persons of 
 education. Faculty {facultas, facilitas, 
 facio, to do) implies a natural gift of 
 a certain kind to a certain end; and 
 
 159 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 should be used in a restricted sense, 
 as more or less common to all: as, 
 one's faculties — that is to say, functions 
 of sense. Talent {talentum) is also a 
 natural gift which varies greatly among 
 different persons — some having a talent 
 for music, others for painting and what 
 not. Ability (habilitas) signifies, in gen- 
 eral, the power to do, and "always 
 supposes something able to be done," 
 while capacity {capacitas) imports "the 
 abstract quality of being able to receive 
 or hold." So are the words able, 
 capable, capacious too often used care- 
 lessly. Two persons may be able to 
 read, and one of the two capable of 
 reading Greek; while the third may 
 have a more capacious mind than either 
 of the other two and be unable to do 
 that which the others do easily. Act 
 (actum), action (actio) and deed are not 
 synonyms. Act signifies the power ex- 
 erted which renders the thing done; 
 
 160 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 action, doing; deed, simply the work 
 performed. An act may be public or 
 private, collective or individual. A deed 
 is always personal — while "an action 
 may consist of more acts than one," 
 embracing more or less complex causes 
 and consequences. These are the dis- 
 tinctions which no careful linguist over- 
 looks. 
 
 Again, to aggravate, irritate, provoke, 
 exasperate, tantalize: To aggravate is 
 so frequently misused that the infini- 
 tive is in danger of losing its meaning. 
 Aggravate (aggravatus) means to add 
 to; irritate (irritatus), to excite, to annoy, 
 to thwart; provoke (provoco), "to chal- 
 lenge or defy," to awaken anger; exas- 
 perate (exasperatus) , to roughen the feel- 
 ings to an unusual degree of anger; 
 tantalize (Tantalus), to raise hopes in 
 order to frustrate them. Aim, object, 
 end: Aim (aestimo) is the mental intent; 
 object (objedus) inheres in the thing; 
 
 11 161 
 
Distinctions in Word-meanings 
 
 while "the end is that which follows 
 or terminates any course or proceeding." 
 All signifies the whole number of units. 
 "All is collective; every is singular or 
 individual; each is distributive." Mor- 
 tal, deadly, fatal: The bite of a serpent 
 may be deadly; the thrust of a sword, 
 mortal; a step in the wrong direction, 
 fatal. To have and to possess indicate 
 distinctive differences. To have implies 
 indefinite ownership: to have in mind, 
 within reach, in control. To possess 
 is to have definite ownership of: a 
 cashier, for instance, may have much 
 money at his disposal, while the same 
 money is possessed by his employer. 
 
 163 
 
SOME FURTHER DISTINCTIONS 
 
SOME FURTHER DISTINCTIONS 
 
 Notice, to mention. It is of common, 
 almost of daily, occurrence to see mention 
 and notice used indifferently as synony- 
 mous words. Whatever may be the plea 
 for expansion and elasticity of our tongue, 
 certainly no one would urge its con- 
 fusion as a means of growth. Language, 
 as everything else, grows in accordance 
 with principle or law. We express our 
 ideas best, when we make use of the 
 distinctions which exist between words 
 more or less synonymous. Notice and 
 mention "imply the act of calling things 
 to another person's mind," and in that 
 sense only are they synonymous. If a 
 thing is mentioned, it is brought to one's 
 attention in no uncertain manner; but 
 if it is noticed merely, the act may have 
 
 165 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 been incidental, and is usually brought 
 to mind indirectly. 
 
 Illusion and delusion. There are very 
 few of us who have not been, at some 
 time or another, deluded; that is to 
 say, allured by deceit to deviate from 
 right into error. There is nothing im- 
 aginary about that. On the other hand, 
 those of us who get our ideas of the 
 "... form divine" through poetry and 
 the robes and waddings of modern fashion, 
 awake on some calm, gray dawn to 
 the fact that we have suffered from an 
 illusion — often optical. In all illusions 
 the imagination plays a leading role. 
 Thomson said: 
 
 "While the fond soul, 
 Wrapt in gray visions of unreal bliss. 
 Still paints the illusive form." 
 
 Puerile. One need not be a great 
 Latinist to know that fuer means boy; 
 
 166 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 and that puerile, therefore, means simply 
 boyish, and is not synonymous either 
 with youthful or juvenile. 
 
 Writer, author: There is a world 
 of difference between the two. In this 
 age it is not necessary for an author 
 to be a writer. He may talk into a 
 recording phonograph, or better still, 
 if he be not married, into the shell- 
 like ear of a pretty type-writist. Our 
 daily, weekly and monthly publications 
 convince us with overwhelming prima 
 facie evidence that the majority of writers 
 are in no sense authors. Crabb says 
 that, "Poets and historians are properly 
 termed authors rather than writers." But 
 Mr. Crabb was deficient in the sense 
 of humor. 
 
 Word and term. Let us not be dog- 
 matic. Good authority has it that word 
 and term are not necessarily synonymous. 
 
 167 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 I am sorry if that is true. Word and 
 term should mean the same thing. Every 
 word of a non-barbaric tongue should 
 have its boundary and specific significa- 
 tion. Usage should limit the meaning of a 
 word — and generally does — as accurately 
 as science fixes a term. But it is as well 
 to have a change of words occasionally as 
 it is to have a change of clothes. 
 
 Whole, entire, complete. A whole- 
 hearted person is one, properly speaking, 
 from whose heart nothing has been taken. 
 There are many such in this world. 
 The heart, as it were, may have been 
 broken into fragments; but so long as 
 all the parts remain together on the 
 premises, and unconfiscated, the indi- 
 vidual may still aver, with whatever 
 arrogance he please, that his heart is 
 whole. But let some demure divorcee 
 prove a common-law marriage, and the 
 honorable Court will hold that the heart 
 
 168 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 is no longer entire, since it is an axiom 
 in law tliat in union there is division; 
 and that, thereafter, it requires two 
 to make one complete. 
 
 Way, manner, method, mode, course, 
 means. 
 
 "Strait is the gate and narrow is the way." 
 
 — Mat. vii. 14. 
 
 The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate. 
 
 ■ — Addison. 
 
 This is not very encouraging to the 
 su£Ferers in this world who look Heaven- 
 ward for joy. He who travels a strange 
 way would do well to resort to a good 
 manner and a safe method; and the 
 m,ode of travel may require close and 
 continuous attention. Course and m,eans 
 are used mostly to designate the way 
 of moral conduct. 
 
 All impediments in fancy's course 
 Are motives of more fancy. 
 
 — Shukspere. 
 169 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 Yet, by your gracious patience, 
 I will a round unvarnished tale deliver 
 Of my whole course of love. 
 
 —Ibid. 
 All your sophisters cannot produce anything 
 better adapted to preserve a rational and manly 
 freedom than the course that we have pursued. 
 — Burke. 
 
 How modern is this: 
 
 Get money; still get money, boy, 
 No matter by what means. 
 
 — Ben Jonson. 
 
 And this: 
 
 Get place and wealth, — if possible, with grace; 
 If not, by any means get wealth and place. 
 
 — Pope. 
 
 The most wonderful things are brought about 
 in many instances by means the most absurd and 
 ridiculous. — Burke. 
 
 Strenuous. Theodore Roosevelt, whose 
 name gains nothing by a title, gave 
 this word a vogue which it never had 
 before. It is an old theory, that the 
 mind instinctively uses words which re- 
 
 170 
 
Some Further Distincti&ns 
 
 fleet very subtly its own characteristics. 
 It does not require vast experience in 
 one to recognize a mollycoddle by his 
 speech. What a veritable stench are 
 the words of an unclean mind! How 
 crystal-pure and sweet is the language 
 of wisdom and righteousness! How 
 plainly, as a paradigm, is this 
 
 A Dude's Description of Life 
 "Life's just a hollow bubble, don't yeh know — 
 Just a painted piece of trouble, don't yeh know — 
 You come to earth to cry, you grow older and you 
 
 sigh; 
 Older still and then you die, don't yeh know. 
 
 "It's all a horrid mix, don't yeh know. 
 Business, love and politics, don't yeh know; 
 Clubs and parties, cliques and sets. 
 Fashions, follies, cigarettes, don't yeh know. 
 
 "So you worry through the day, don't yeh know. 
 
 In a sort of kind of way, don't yeh know — 
 
 You are hungry, you are fed; some few things are 
 
 done and said — 
 You are tired — ^go to bed — don't yeh know. 
 171 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 "Society is dress, don't yeh know. 
 
 And a source of much distress, don't yeh know: 
 
 To determine what to wear, to make your face look 
 
 fair. 
 And how to part your hair, don't yeh know. 
 
 "Love! ah yes; you meet a girl, don't yeh know; 
 And you get in such a whirl, don't yeh know — 
 You get down on the floor and implore and 
 
 adore — 
 And it's all a beastly bore, don't yeh know." 
 
 Surely, this is not the language of 
 the truculent spirit who can give the 
 lie direct, when need be; and who can 
 read the heart of the grizzly through 
 the rift of the rifle's sight. The stren- 
 uous paladin — the sturdy trouncer, wield- 
 ing the "big stick" alike over a turbid 
 Senate and the bald heads of thieving 
 railway manipulators — would scorn such 
 rhyming jargon. Strenuous are the words 
 he would use, and well, because they 
 are wedded to an undaunted, untamed 
 spirit. 
 
 172 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 We find strenuous used too often, 
 however, by "undesirable citizens" in 
 the sense of bold. This is a mistake. 
 Bold implies only half the meaning. 
 "Strenuous supporters of any opinion 
 are always strongly convinced of the 
 truth of that which they support, and 
 warmly impressed with a sense of its 
 importance" (Crabb). Hence a differ- 
 ence of opinion seems to them, rightly 
 enough, "a lie," and righteously "un- 
 desirable." 
 
 Tale, story. There are more tales in 
 currency than there are stories; and 
 probably will be as long as the inventive 
 instinct remains strong in man. A story 
 may not be true — a tale never is. 
 
 And often did beguile her of her tears, 
 When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
 That my youth suffered. My story being done. 
 She gave me for nay pains a world of sighs. 
 
 — Shakspere. 
 173 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
 Rail on the Lord's anointed. 
 
 —Ibid. 
 
 My conscience hath a thousand several tongues. 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale. 
 And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
 
 —Ibid. 
 
 Herodotus is present at the Olympic games, 
 and, like an old woman to children, recites his 
 narratives, or rather tales to the assembled Greeks. 
 — Voltaire, philosophic dictionary. 
 
 Spurt, spout. There is the same dif- 
 ference in meaning between these words 
 as there is between a perpetual candidate 
 spouting tiresome platitudes, and a "fire- 
 alarm" poUtician spurting nonsense. By 
 comparison we welcome the spurter, 
 because the spouter never gives us a 
 respite. 
 
 To speak, say, converse, talk, tell, 
 discourse. 
 
 Ships at sea may speak to one another 
 far beyond the range of voice. If the 
 talk of some persons could only be 
 
 174 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 pushed back beyond the horizon of 
 hearing the world would be happier. 
 Thunder and lightning speak to the 
 savage — the old woman talks to us from 
 the chimney-corner — the creditor says 
 we are in his debt — the articulation of 
 lovers is sweet converse — and for dry, 
 heavy discourse one should listen to a pro- 
 fessor when he "school-masters" English. 
 As a people, we are proud of our dis- 
 tinguished individuals who can tell lies 
 without so much as batting an eyelid. 
 The distinctions existing betwixt these 
 words are not remarkably subtle. 
 
 Words that weep and tears that speak. 
 
 — Cowley. 
 
 The first duty of a man is to speak, that is his 
 chief business in this world; and talk, which is the 
 harmonious speech of two or more, is by far the 
 most accessible of pleasures. — R. L. Stevenson. 
 
 First say to yourself what you would be; and 
 then do what you have to do. — Epictetus. 
 175 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets 
 of Askelon.— 2 Sam. i. 20. 
 
 With thee conversing I forget all time, 
 
 All seasons, and their change, — all please alike. 
 
 — MiUon. 
 
 A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself 
 talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will 
 stand to in a month. — Shakspere. 
 
 Miss not the discourse of the elders if you are 
 troubled with insomnia. ' 
 
 Abominable, detestable and execrable 
 arise in a climax describing that which 
 is bad. The first expresses strong aver- 
 sion; the second, "hatred and revulsion"; 
 the third, "indignation and horror." In 
 the denouncing of enemies, justice de- 
 mands that these words should never 
 be used as synonyms. The list of 
 condemnatory adjectives is not large 
 enough as it is to suit the requirements 
 of individuals, on occasion. 
 
 176 
 
Some Further Distinctions 
 
 The newspapers! Sir, tliey are the most vil- 
 lainous, licentious, abominable, infernal ! — Not that 
 I ever read them! No, I make it a rule never 
 to look into a newspaper. — Ricliard Brinsley 
 Sheridan. 
 
 " The rantankerous Senator is one of the most 
 detestable hypocrites in public life." 
 ( In private conversation.) 
 
 Whence and what art thou, execrable shape ? 
 — Shade of Milton to the Shadow of "Our 
 Chauncey." 
 
 Many of these examples taken at ran- 
 dom from Crabb's English Synonymes 
 are scarcely more striking than hundreds 
 of others. If they serve to emphasize 
 the contention that a careful distinction 
 between the meanings of more or less 
 synonymous English words is essential 
 to clear expression, they do well. 
 
 Note: See "the worth of words" (Hinds, 
 Noble and Eldredge, New York) for further 
 reference — words arranged alphabetically. 
 
 177 
 
THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE 
 
THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE 
 
 WHO has not speculated on the 
 origin of language; and who has 
 said the final word on the sub- 
 ject ? The exact solution of the question 
 seems to be a long way oflf. 
 
 A few gentlemen have written sensibly 
 on the origin of language; a good many 
 more have needlessly exploited their ig- 
 norance in discussing the matter; while 
 some reverential souls have thought to 
 please God by ascribing to Him the 
 invention of human speech. 
 
 This might be called the ripe apple 
 theory; that is to say, God put language 
 into man's breath as He might have 
 put a ripe apple into his mouth. Hap- 
 pily, the day of the ripe apple theory 
 is past. There are other theories as 
 
 181 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 to the origin of speech; some of them 
 are not now seriously considered; some 
 others are reasonable in parts; but 
 the only one that seems wholly probable 
 may be said to be the evolutionary 
 theory. 
 
 We have all heard of the "bow-wow," 
 "ding-dong," "pooh-pooh" theories, as 
 well as of the highly intellectual "goo- 
 goo" theory, invented by Professors 
 Greenough and Kittredge. Let us hope 
 that it scarcely required their combined 
 intellects to bring it forth. 
 
 With all due respect to the authors 
 of the various theories, but especially 
 to the reverential souls who have tried 
 so ingeniously to flatter God, presum- 
 ably for the good of others, let us con- 
 sider the theory of the evolutionists, 
 who, in their search after truth, have 
 no "axes to grind" either with gods 
 or men. 
 
 It has long been known that all 
 
 182 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 gregarious animals possess the means 
 of communicating with one another. 
 Their language, in one instance, may 
 be that merely of touch, as is the case 
 with ants. These remarkable little be- 
 ings converse by means of their antennae. 
 
 It is a curious fact that most animals 
 communicate with one another through 
 vocal sounds. They express their emo- 
 tions of love, grief, joy, desire, anger, 
 fright, etc., by intonation. In many in- 
 stances their language is intelligible to 
 human beings. We clearly distinguish 
 between the murmuring, plaintive, nurs- 
 ing-sounds of the mother caring for 
 her young, and the cries of alarm and 
 distress. 
 
 I have a very little dog, of the Japanese 
 spaniel family, that has a considerable 
 range of speech. A plaintive little spiral 
 wail calls me out into the hall to put 
 on the light, so that her ladyship may 
 see to ascend the stairs; a sharp, short 
 
 183 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 "barklet" says: "Open the door!"; a 
 prolonged, rolling bark expresses dis- 
 approval (usually) of a visitor; a low, 
 ratchet growl is a warning not to disturb 
 her when she is comfortable; a sort 
 of yelping growl tells a stranger to keep 
 away from her bed, her biscuit or any- 
 thing else that may be hers; a flute- 
 like sound is a plea; a sharp, quick, 
 strong bark is a sound of alarm; a soft 
 guttural, almost purring, sound tells me 
 as plainly as a woman's words that 
 she loves me, and is very happy 
 with me for the moment. For grief she 
 has tears and lugubrious howls. She 
 produces many other sounds and in- 
 tonations which are not only expressive, 
 but, on occasion, quite eloquent. She 
 is, indeed, highly accomplished in primi- 
 tive speech. 
 
 Professor Garner, who has been study- 
 ing African and other monkeys, with 
 the aid of an interesting young woman, 
 
 184 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 reports from his jungle-cage in the wilds 
 of Africa that he has actually discovered 
 about thirty well-defined substantives in 
 daily use among monkeys. Monkey-talk 
 has long interested mankind; but the 
 discovery of monkey-nouns is new, and 
 all the credit attached to it rightly be- 
 longs to Professor Garner. 
 
 At all events it is not unreasonable 
 to assume that the language of the 
 lower forms of animals evolved as the 
 animals themselves developed. 
 
 Our early progenitors spoke a com- 
 bined language of gesticulation and vocal 
 intonation. As their minds became more 
 and more active and their affections 
 more developed, they found amusement 
 in gesturing, murmuring and babbling 
 to one another. Then hard-times came 
 to them, even as they fall upon us; 
 but in their day hard-times were rather 
 more dependent upon geological, than 
 upon financial upheavals, as in our 
 
 185 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 time. They became conscious of a short- 
 age in food-supply — and as food de- 
 creased their enemies increased. They 
 were menaced from all sides, and a com- 
 mon danger wrought the golden bonds of 
 closer union. It was then that Socialism 
 made its first notable step. They needed 
 the protection of one another, and had 
 sense enough to avail themselves of 
 it, since neither graft nor jails had yet 
 appeared among them. Combination be- 
 came the principal instinct of self-preser- 
 vation; and combination depended upon 
 their language, the growth of which was 
 enormously stimulated thereby. With 
 relative rapidity language passed from 
 one stage of development to another. 
 From the stage of intonation, in which 
 ideas paralleled a chromatic scale, it 
 readily passed to the stage of imitation. 
 This was a great step toward progress. 
 Mental activity increased; social affec- 
 tions developed; necessity, an impellent 
 
 186 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 shadow, was ever at their shoulder — or, 
 to be more exact, at their stomach. 
 They began to inform one another of 
 danger by imitative sounds, gestures and 
 grimaces. A low growl, a gesture indi- 
 cative of direction, a savage grimace, 
 said plainly enough: "Look out for 
 an enemy — a wild beast over there!" 
 "To imitate water, they bubbled with 
 their mouths; they grubbed with their 
 hands and pretended to eat, to show 
 that they had discovered roots." The 
 utility of this rude speech was not lost 
 on them, as later developments clearly 
 show. They saw not only utility, but 
 found pleasure in language. This con- 
 sciousness was the dawn of the third 
 stage of language, which was more "con- 
 ventional or artificial." Substantives 
 were invented to fit certain objects: 
 certain nouns were given certain sounds. 
 The invention of the adjective and verb 
 was only a step away; "and, lastly, 
 
 187 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 words which had at first been used 
 for physical objects were applied to 
 the nomenclature of ideas." 
 
 Combination had proved an excellent 
 weapon of defense; it was also found 
 equally good for offense. Without lan- 
 guage there could be no combination. 
 "Language, therefore, may be considered 
 the first weapon of our species, and 
 was improved, as all weapons would 
 be, by that long, never-ceasing war, 
 the battle of existence." 
 
 In the second stage of the development 
 of language — the imitative — we discover 
 the starting-point of art. The young 
 of nearly all animals learn by imitation. 
 Much is accredited to instinct in animals, 
 which should properly be accredited to 
 their instinct of imitation. The indi- 
 viduals of many species imitate one 
 another. "With monkeys this propen- 
 sity becomes a mania." With man the 
 instinct of imitation is prodigiously de- 
 
 188 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 veloped. Persons living together in long, 
 intimate association, reflect the charac- 
 teristics of one another to a noticeable 
 degree. This is well shown both in the 
 conjugal felicity of the fireside, and 
 in the cat-like squabbles of the divorce 
 court. Imitation, "when adroitly man- 
 aged," becomes an eflScient means of edu- 
 cation. The savage tries to imitate the 
 things that are new to him. When he 
 sees a strange object, he is seized with 
 two impulses — curiosity and imitation. 
 He draws rough pictures of ships on 
 the sands of the beach; he scratches 
 outlines of animals on rocks, or draws 
 them on barks and skins. This is the 
 birth of art, of sculpture, of picture 
 writing, and of the alphabet itself. 
 
 Some time during the career of our 
 primeval ancestors, poetry and music 
 were one. Words were chanted; con- 
 versation was rhythmical; music was a 
 language. The science of music has been 
 
 189 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 discovered since, and the art of music 
 wonderfully developed; but music still 
 retains some of the essentials of a lan- 
 guage, although it ceased to be speech 
 when prose took the place of poetry. 
 At that time poetry and music became, 
 equally with language, separate arts. 
 Previous to that time, "the bard was 
 a minstrel, the minstrel was a bard." 
 With the invention of writing, the art 
 of music was separated from that of 
 poetry. One man no longer "accom- 
 panied himself upon the harp." The 
 art of music divided itself into vocal 
 and instrumental. Yet music was a prim- 
 itive language, and vocal music today 
 bears a striking relation to the language 
 of speech. 
 
 Nothing can be much plainer than 
 that musical sounds and gestures — both 
 of which are largely ornamental today — 
 "are relics of the primeval language." 
 Travelers — those who travel really to 
 
 190 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 see things outside the dusty, monotonous 
 ways which the fools of fashion take 
 and follow — are aware that many peas- 
 ants and savages still chant their talk. 
 This is especially evident when they 
 are stirred by deep emotion: when sub- 
 conscious nature harks back to primitive 
 characteristics. 
 
 Once in mid-ocean I heard a Polish 
 peasant woman chant her grief; her 
 babe had been thrown overboard by 
 a lunatic. The poor mother sat wrapt 
 in her despair singing her grief, mean- 
 while swaying her body rhythmically. 
 On the floor beside her stood the empty 
 little shoes that her babe had worn 
 only a few hours before. She scarcely 
 removed her eyes from the pathetic 
 shoes. I shall never forget how that 
 savage, poignant song pierced my heart 
 and made it primitive for the moment: 
 how it aroused within me a storm of 
 savage sorrow. 
 
 191 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 I was at luncheon when the ship's 
 mighty engines ceased to throb; an 
 uncanny hush fell upon us — a thrill, 
 rather than words, apprised us that a child 
 was overboard; gaiety died — laughter 
 froze on the lips— the ship circled in 
 rough seas — every eye scanned the dark 
 green, graceful, feline, hateful waves. 
 Within an hour the grim ship picked up 
 her course — the throb of the engines' 
 heart resumed^the gay life of the 
 passengers went on as before — a little 
 child was alone with the deep — a mother's 
 wail pierced the gray mists, and her 
 chanting grief was all that was left to 
 her of her babe. 
 
 In that hour's quick review passed 
 an epitome of life and history. In the 
 mother's grief a primeval language flow- 
 ered again, that the bitter fruit of despair 
 might fill her heart — and the agony 
 of that hour left its scar upon more 
 than one soul. 
 
 192 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 Articulate speech has grown into many 
 rich and glowing languages, wherein 
 all shades of thought have found appro- 
 priate voice and term; abstract ideas 
 and delicate emotions blossom and give 
 forth their perfume and beauty to our 
 souls. Just so has the inarticulate speech 
 of music grown into a wide and varied 
 language of sound, wherein poems are 
 sculptured from the air, as tender melodies 
 float around us; good angels from a 
 fairy land soothe all the hurts of day, 
 while alluring elves weave for our brain 
 the soft webs of trance-like dreams. 
 
 Music makes the doors of the mind 
 to open on a new world where all is 
 vast and dim; unutterably grand ideas 
 pass before us in organized procession; 
 gigantic shadows throw immeasurable 
 silhouettes against the sky; wondrous 
 hues, drawn from the infra-spectrum, 
 sweep and float before us — only to vanish 
 as strangely as they came, leaving at last 
 
 13 193 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 scarcely the shadow of the dream behind. 
 Again, the notes are soft and low, ar- 
 ranged, assorted and combined into 
 the plaintive primal chords that strike 
 all reason dumb — ^the senses swim in 
 seas of happy languor — "the mind re- 
 turns and nestles to the heart" — the 
 eyes are filled with tears as the past 
 takes form again, and a voluptuous 
 sadness steals upon the soul, "sweet 
 as the sorrow of romantic youth" when 
 first it bathes in tears. 
 
 Somewhere in the dawn-deep wilds 
 of Nature, music was born of passion; 
 it was the speech of love; the wail of 
 grief; the sound of joy. It is perhaps 
 the only element of language which may 
 be called divine. Within its magic circle 
 dwell the sigh and sob, the moan of pain 
 and "caressing murmur of maternal love"; 
 the plaints of supplication; the calls 
 of challenge; the cries of triumph; the 
 songs of mated love, and the dirges for 
 
 194 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 the dead — all there find voice and echo 
 of being's elusive self. 
 
 We do not know, and yet it may be 
 found that immortality exists w^ithin the 
 range of music's magic realm. Think 
 of the happiest moment of your life — 
 the most ecstatic moment. Perhaps you 
 were listening to a symphony of Bee- 
 thoven. You were literally "carried away 
 from yourself": a vulgar idiom of much 
 truth. You were transported; you for- 
 got self — forgot all the relations which 
 made you an individual. There was 
 no individual memory — no past — no fu- 
 ture; all was a sweet sublimation of 
 the sense of well-being; environment 
 vanished — self disappeared. If there be 
 inamortality of soul, perhaps it is of 
 this nature. 
 
 It is possible that far away through 
 the future eons of man's development, 
 the soul may turn again to this strange 
 and subtle tongue, as the only worthy 
 
 195 
 
The Origin oj Language 
 
 means of converse and expression. As 
 man rises with his aspirations to higher 
 and ever nobler planes of being, it may 
 be that music shall be his sole speech 
 and poetry all his thought. 
 
 Perhaps the soul may turn upon high crest 
 
 And beat an ebb-tide dream through ways of 
 past; 
 Perchance the goal lies hidden in the breast 
 
 Of some dim day; and heart find hope at last 
 By turning back to ancient dawn, when first 
 
 The budding fancy felt the dear, warm breath 
 Of waking love, ere creed and crime had curst 
 
 The sons of men with hate and death. 
 
 Tov(rard the origin of things we can 
 trace a little way backward. We think 
 that we can follow life downward to 
 the early compounds of cyanogen, born 
 amid the flames of inconceivable fury 
 and undenotable heat. Language we 
 can trace back to snarling beasts and 
 crawling things. Science, we believe, 
 was evolved from the early habit of 
 seeking food — a habit which developed 
 
 196 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 the instinct of curiosity, which in turn 
 unfolded genius. Art was born of the 
 spirit, and the spirit was imitation and 
 imitation was the necessity of learning 
 to eat. And music arose from primeval 
 speech, and the speech was the voice 
 of love, and the love was sexual attrac- 
 tion, and back of the sexual attraction 
 was the vague but strong instinct of 
 propagation before the separation of the 
 sexes, when the Androgynous divinity 
 ruled the world and both male and 
 female were one. Beyond this we do 
 not go; and yet, up to this point, we 
 have traveled only an infinitesimal part 
 of the way as it leads ever backward. 
 
 "Why was it so ordered that reason 
 should be born of refrigeration, and that 
 a piece of white-hot Star should cool 
 into a habitable world, and then be 
 sunned into an intellectual salon, as 
 the earth will some day he? All that 
 we are doing, and all that we can do, 
 
 197 
 
The Origin of Language 
 
 is to investigate secondary laws; but 
 from these investigations will proceed 
 discoveries by which human nature will 
 be elevated, purified, and finally trans- 
 formed." And language, the fairest blos- 
 som of the soul, shall not have bloomed 
 in vain. 
 
 198 
 
SOME OLD CELTIC FRIENDS 
 
SOME OLD CELTIC FRIENDS 
 
 Celtic is a word that covers a group 
 of allied tongues known as Irish, GaeUc, 
 Welsh, Manx, Breton and, formerly, 
 Corrdsh. This group has contributed 
 not a few useful words to English- 
 words, many of them, in every-day use. 
 For the most part, they are friends 
 of our childhood — sturdy friends that 
 stick to us through life. Some of the 
 most common of these, with their deriva- 
 tion and cognate forms, follow in 
 alphabetical order, and will be found 
 of interest to many persons whose knowl- 
 edge of English goes beyond the merely 
 utilitarian usage. 
 
 Babe has meant an infant for a long 
 time, and has the respectable reputation 
 
 201 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends' 
 
 of never having meant anything else. 
 It was habe and hah in M. E., of which 
 the full form was hahan. Its derivation 
 
 - was from Welsh, Gaelic, Irish and Corn- 
 ish. Early in its career this sacred 
 word warmed the heart of many tribes 
 and clans. It is spread out now over 
 a great part of earth, and has grown 
 so dear to the people that we find it 
 in the mouths of politicians calling for 
 more. From the lap of the mother to 
 the mouth of the "statesman," hungry 
 for votes, is no great way, but tremen- 
 dously important. 
 
 In Manx we find the cognate words 
 hah and hahan, meaning a babe or child. 
 The diminutive was mahan, from mdh, 
 
 1 a son — hence our macs, since mdh and 
 mac are modified forms of maqvi, early 
 Welsh for son. 
 
 Bad, evil and wicked men and things 
 are older than our era. M. E. had 
 both had and hadde, and Chaucer his 
 
 202 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 hadder, meaning worse, which, however, 
 is not from the same root. 
 
 Bald originally was used in the sense 
 of (1) shining, (2) white, and applied 
 to streaks on the foreheads of animals 
 nominally inferior to man, as, for example, 
 the horse. Bal, white streak, etc., was 
 Welsh, and was cognate with bali and 
 the Breton bal. Bald came from Gaelic 
 and Irish. As the men of Britain began 
 to show hairless signs on their pates, 
 presumably after the introduction of the 
 Roman ballet, we read that they were 
 referred to as balled. Chaucer sang: 
 "His head was balled, and schon as 
 eny glas." M. E. gives us both balled 
 and ballid, dissyllables. 
 
 Bard. The original meaning of this 
 word was, most likely, speaker. Poets 
 were not always the meek and timorous 
 beings known to us in our degenerate 
 day. At an early time they were loud 
 and lusty seers not loath to speak. We 
 
 203 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 find bardd in Welsh, bard in Irish and 
 GaeUc, bardh in Cornish, and in Breton, 
 barz. 
 
 Barrow has long been both verb and 
 substantive. Originally the noun meant 
 a burial mound, a hillock. M. E. gave 
 us berg, a hill; Cornish, Welsh and 
 Breton bar, a top; and Gaelic barpa, 
 a conical heap of stones, a cairn, a bar- 
 row. Barrack, heaped up. Barrow, the 
 verb, from beran, to bear, carry — hence 
 an open, placid form of legitimate robbery, 
 since a thing barrowed is usually carried 
 away and buried forever. The noun is 
 also used in the sense of a vehicle: a 
 wheel barrow. "A. S. borh, a pledge, 
 is derived from the stem of borg-en, pp. of 
 beorgan, to protect." 
 
 Basket. Original meaning unaltered. 
 Basket, M. E. (Chaucer) : derived from 
 Welsh basged. Cognates: Cornish, bas- 
 ced; Gaelic, bascaid. 
 
 Bat. " He went on a 6ar' — a debauch. 
 
 204 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 "He's batty," in the sense of being not 
 quite sane, are slang phrases in which 
 the use of the word bat is unwarranted. 
 Carlyle's version of Nat Lee's "hiero- 
 glyphic bat" is just about as sensible: 
 
 "Methinks I see a hieroglyphic bat 
 Skim o'er the zenith in a slipshod hat; 
 And to shed infants' blood, with horrid strides, 
 A damned potato on a whirlwind rides." 
 
 The word means (1) a short club 
 or cudgel. M. E. batte. It was derived 
 from Irish and Gaelic bat and bata, 
 a staff, cudgel; Breton batarag, a club; 
 (2) a mammal with wings — corrupted 
 from M. E. bakke. 
 
 Bauble. The history of this word tells 
 us that the family-tree of fools is, at 
 least, not an upstartish growth. It also 
 hints darkly at the genealogy of jewelers. 
 The word came from the Celtic, and 
 meant (1) a fool's mace; (2) (derived 
 from the French via Italian meaning) 
 
 205 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 a trifle, a plaything, a whimwam, a 
 gewgaw, and so forth. Certainly nothing 
 to be encouraged. 
 
 Bicker probably had a feminine origin, 
 so to speak, in Welsh from hicra. Women 
 bickered, pecked and skirmished even in 
 that ancient and honorable tribe. Bicra, 
 figuratively, to peck at, a petty dispute. 
 
 Block has done good service. From 
 the Gaelic ploc meaning a round mass, 
 a large clod, a bludgeon with a large 
 head — to block, a stump of a tree, it 
 finally came to mean a large piece of 
 wood. In Irish, floe meant a plug, 
 a bung — from blocan, a little block. 
 M. E. had blok, which came from the 
 Welsh plock, a block. Dutch blok; Swed- 
 ? ish block; Danish blok. 
 
 In modern times it has acquired ad- 
 ditional meanings. We speak of a block 
 meaning a city "square." In that sense 
 it is perhaps preferable to "square." 
 Naturally, it came to mean an auctioneer's 
 
 206 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 stand, and has been compounded into 
 blockhead, which is a very descriptive 
 word when applied figuratively to many 
 a human being who is, unfortunately, 
 about as sentient and sensible as "a 
 bludgeon with a large head." 
 
 Bludgeon is thought to be derived 
 from the Irish hlocan. That the Irish 
 clan should have given us that word 
 is fitting enough. An Irishman without 
 a bludgeon is in undress uniform; with it, 
 he is perfectly accoutred for war, and at 
 ease in polite society. The average New 
 York policeman is a living hark-back. 
 The Gaelic plocan, a wooden hammer, 
 beetle, a mallet, is a cognate word. 
 
 Bog, a piece of soft ground, a quagmire, 
 came from the Irish bogach, a morass, 
 or softish (place). The Gaelic bogan, a 
 quagmire, was a cognate term. 
 
 Bother is a comparatively modern word 
 which was probably first used by the 
 inimitable Swift: "My head you bother." 
 
 207 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 Mr. Swift uses pother in the same poem, 
 in the sense of continuous excitement: 
 
 "With every lady iu the land 
 Soft Strephon kept a pother; 
 One year he languished for one hand 
 And next year for another." 
 
 The word is probably derived from the 
 Irish buaidhirt, trouble, affliction; huaid- 
 hrim, I vex, disturb, annoy, distract, 
 madden. 
 
 Brag. A "gentleman" or "lady" 
 merely exaggerates; a fool or common 
 person is said to brag. Just where the 
 difference lies is not easy to see. Of 
 course, exaggerating is not necessarily 
 bragging; and yet it is a common ob- 
 servation that he who brags usually 
 exaggerates. He cannot help it. The 
 frame of mind capable of producing a 
 brag, a boast, is incapable of refraining 
 from over-statement. Shakspere speaks 
 of the braggart in Much Ado About 
 Nothing — and we find braggere in Piers 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 Plowman. The word has at least the 
 respectabiUty of some age. It was de- 
 rived from Welsh bragio, to brag; breagh, 
 fine, splendid. It was cognate with Irish 
 bragaim, I boast; also with Breton 
 braga: " Se -pavaner,^ marcher d'une ma- 
 niere fiere, se parer de beaux habits." 
 It came from the root bhrag, to break. 
 English break, to crack, to boast — an 
 excellent accomplishment ! 
 
 Bran. M. E. gave us bran, bren, mean- 
 ing the coats of grains of wheat. The 
 word was derived from Welsh bran, husk. 
 It was cognate with Irish bran, chaff. In 
 O. F. we find bj-en, bran. It may have 
 come into English through the Breton 
 brenn. French bren, dung, stinking refuse. 
 
 Brat. This is one of our most ex- 
 pressive words; it would be difficult 
 indeed to describe some children with- 
 out it. Originally it meant rag, clout- 
 especially a child's bib or apron, and 
 
 * Pavaner, "to strut as the peacock does." 
 14 209 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 finally, a contemptuous name for child. 
 Chaucer uses brate for a coarse cloak, 
 rugged mantle. The word came from 
 Welsh brat, a rag. The Gaelic brat, a 
 mantle, cloak, apron, rag; and Irish brat, 
 cloak, mantle, veil; bratog, a rag, are 
 cognates. 
 
 Brawl. Brawling was a pleasant di- 
 version of the Celtic clans. To quarrel, 
 to roar, was a delightful avocation, the 
 art of which has not yet been wholly 
 lost. In M. E. brawle meant to quarrel. 
 The word is derived from Welsh brawl, 
 which signified a boast; brol, a boast, 
 a vaunt; bragal, to vociferate. Irish 
 braighean, a quarrel; braigaim, "I boast, 
 bounce, bully." Welsh bragal, "to vocif- 
 erate" — from which came the word braggle. 
 
 Brisk. Milton uses this word, and 
 it appears in Shakspere's works; but 
 it is rarely used by earlier writers. A 
 very learned American Professor, who 
 knows all about everything and some- 
 
 210 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 thing besides, asserts that the word was 
 first appUed to the Hvely, quick and 
 nimble flea. However that may be, it 
 was derived from the Welsh hrysg, quick, 
 nimble, and was cognate with Gaelic 
 briosg, "quick, alert, lively." Max Miil- 
 ler says that "The English brisk, frisky, 
 and fresh, all came from the same source." 
 And Mr. Skeat thinks, that "the initial 
 Celtic b in this case" might stand "for 
 an older p," which would "perhaps " make 
 "brisk co-radicate with fresh, frisky" — 
 good words! "If brisk is Celtic, it can- 
 not be cognate with fresh and frisky." 
 
 Bucket. M. E. gave us boket (Chaucer). 
 It meant "a kind of pail." It was 
 probably derived from A. S. "buc, a 
 pitcher. Irish buicead, a bucket, a knob, 
 boss; Gaelic bucaid, a bucket, also a 
 pustule." Gaelic and Irish gave us "boc, 
 to swell. The word bowl is of similar 
 formation." 
 
 Bug is a word that was used originally 
 
 211 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 In the sense of frightful, terrifying. It 
 was derived from Welsh bwg, "a hob- 
 gobUn, spectre; hwgan, a spectre." Cog- 
 nates were Irish fuca, "an elf, sprite" 
 — Gaelic "bocan, a spectre, apparition, 
 terrifying object" — Cornish "bucca, a 
 hobgoblin, bugbear, scarecrow." Fin- 
 ally bug came to be the name given to 
 a disgusting creature, an insect. 
 
 Bugaboo is bug in its original meaning 
 with the Welsh interjection of threatening 
 added to the word — a spectre. 
 
 The following Celtic Friends might 
 be treated as have been the foregoing, 
 if it were thought well to continue further 
 the dictionary- features of this work: 
 
 Bugbear, bump, bung, burly. 
 
 Cabin, cart, clock, coax, cob, cobble, 
 cock, cog, coil, cradle, crag, crease, crock, 
 crone, cub, curd, cut. 
 
 Dad, dagger, darn, dirk, dock, docket, 
 down, drab, drudge, druid, dudgeon, dun, 
 dune, 
 
 212 
 
Some Old Celtic Friends 
 
 Earnest, 
 
 Fun, 
 
 Gag, glen, glib, goggle-eyed, gown, grid- 
 dle, grounds, gull. 
 
 Ingle, 
 
 Jag, job. 
 
 Kick, knack, knag, knave, knick-knack, 
 knob, knock, knoll, knuckle. 
 
 Lad, lag, lass, lawn, loop, lubber. 
 
 Mattock, merry, mirth, mug. 
 
 Nap, nape, nicknack, nook. 
 
 Pack, package, pad, pall, pang, pat, 
 peak, pert, pet, pick, pie, pike, pitch, 
 plod, pod, poke, pony, pool, pose, potter, 
 pour, pout, prong, prop, prowl, puck, 
 pucker, puddle, pug, put. 
 
 Quaff, quibble, quib, quirk. 
 
 Racket, riband, rill, rub. 
 
 Shamrock, skein, ship, slab, slough, 
 snag, spate, spree, stab. 
 
 Tack, tall, taper, tether, twig. 
 
 Welt, etc. 
 
 213 
 
ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY 
 
 AND 
 "SIMPLIFIED spelling" 
 
ENGLISH ORTHOGRAPHY 
 
 AND 
 
 ' ' SIMPLIFIED SPELLING ' ' 
 
 "I'll have it so Who shall 
 
 say me nay ?" said Hotspur. The gal- 
 lant spelling reformer virtually main- 
 tains a similar front. The perpetual- 
 motion crank and the reformer have 
 pestered mankind for a considerable time. 
 They are hard-headed "varmints" to 
 kill. The spelling reformer just now is 
 notably in evidence and conspicuously 
 audacious. He is strenuous. 
 
 Audacity and strenuosity are admirable 
 when supported by reason; they may be 
 tolerated even in the mistakes of genius; 
 elsewhere they are ridiculous and danger- 
 ous. The boldest bull that ever entered 
 a china shop has failed to win the appro- 
 bation of mankind for rational conduct. 
 
 £17 
 
English Orthography 
 
 The reformers in English Orthography- 
 have never lacked audacity. One of them 
 is strenuous. Very few of them have been 
 afflicted with genius ; and scarcely any ever 
 upheld by reason. But one indisputable 
 characteristic of the Orthographic Re- 
 formation is its immortality. He of the 
 spelling, very properly, comes and goes — 
 his restless mediocrity lives on forever. 
 
 Whenever this same spelling reformer 
 feels called upon to discover the quali- 
 fications of his assumptions, he is not 
 slow to set them forth. A Lounsbury 
 declares his "real" scholarship. An- 
 other, with characteristic complacency, 
 rests his fitness upon the inferences 
 of erudition, proceeding from his staff- 
 position on some periodical publication. 
 Another harmless old gentleman, who 
 has written some very funny as well 
 as some very foolish things, feels, through 
 some vague sense of inscrutable humor 
 perhaps, that he possesses the all-round 
 
 218 
 
English Orthography 
 
 qualifications for reforming something 
 or other, or anything under the sun. 
 He therefore assails English spelling from 
 a joker's angle of verbal trajectory. But 
 the most forcible claim to authority, out- 
 side Executive positiveness, inheres in a 
 professorship. There is a charm in the 
 word professor which is most alluring; 
 it commands a polite ear; it is authorita- 
 tive and forbidding; it wears a mask 
 which is more than apt to terrify the lay- 
 man. There is magic in these impudent 
 assumptions and fatuous trappings — a 
 magic which pretty eflPectually deters the 
 non-specialist from venturing to break 
 a lance with these Knights of Learning. 
 Nor shall those of us who are yeomen — 
 mere varlets outside the pale of clique — 
 trespass upon the pre-empted preserves 
 of these infallible gentry. For they would 
 have us believe that they live in an 
 esoteric Court of Scholastic Mystery, im- 
 penetrable to the average mind. 
 
 219 
 
English Orthography 
 
 A very sensible leader, in The New 
 York Post, brought to public attention 
 the nonsensical efforts of American Spell- 
 ing Reformers. It seems that certain 
 gentlemen behind the veil formed them- 
 selves into a committee of Orthographic 
 Safety. Then they drew up a spelling 
 pledge called the "Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence." This was alleged to bear 
 the signatures of some well-known per- 
 sons, who agreed "to use in private 
 correspondence the amended spellings 
 of the twelve words: program, catalog, 
 decalog, prolog, pedagog, demagog, tho, 
 altho, thoro, thorofare, thru, thruout." 
 The twelve words have now grown to 
 several hundred. This was called a "re- 
 volt," and was said to have been "started 
 under favorable auspices and backed by 
 
 plenty of money it promises 
 
 to be a revolution." 
 
 A few ancient reasons for orthographic 
 revolution have been exhumed by the 
 
English Orthography 
 
 makers of this wondrous declaration of 
 independence, to which has been added 
 the more startUng excuse, "that teachers 
 have passed resolutions against it" (the 
 English spelling now in vogue). 
 
 The Editor of the Post says in closing: 
 "Should our orthography ever be at 
 the mercy of any adventurous band 
 of literary marauders, we should all 
 be crying out for another Charles Lamb, 
 who, disgusted at his treatment by con- 
 temporaries, cried: 'Hang it, I'll write 
 for antiquity!'" 
 
 This aforesaid "Declaration of In- 
 dependence" is scarcely within the bounds 
 of serious discussion. The Editor of 
 the Post has treated it fully and with 
 justice; that is to say, he has laughed 
 at it lightly, pinked it with dexterous 
 thrusts and treated it, generally, in a 
 Voltairian fashion. The real question, 
 however, of English Orthography may 
 not be dismissed flippantly, or disposed 
 
 221 
 
English Orthography 
 
 of with indifference. Opinions of dis- 
 tinguished scholars have not been wholly 
 in accord; no more on this than on 
 other subjects. 
 
 It is commendable of Professor Louns- 
 bury to ask: "Who is it that has taught 
 the teachers.? How are we to know 
 that the guides who take it upon them- 
 selves to lead us are guides in whom 
 we can place implicit conjBdence .?" 
 Would it be an act of impertinence 
 for the laic to ask such questions ? 
 
 It sounds very well indeed, quite 
 heroic, in fact, for Professor Skeat to 
 say: "Let some of us dare to use our 
 common sense, and not give way to 
 what is supposed, I know not on what 
 grounds, to be 'good authority,'" for 
 many statements not unlike his own. 
 Words such as these lose all heroism 
 coming from a yeoman's lips; they 
 require a sort of "cloth" to give them 
 force and dignity. The linguistic mar- 
 
 222 
 
English Orthography 
 
 graves and "literary marauders" seem 
 to think that they possess about all 
 the common sense that is available. 
 
 It is of small moment to the§e gentle 
 folk that language serves mankind in 
 general. The principal thing is, they 
 would have us believe, that language 
 was invented for the purpose of affording 
 the professorial ilk suitable material for 
 hobbies. That they sometimes ride their 
 hobbies to death, is not an unwise pro- 
 vision of nature, surely. 
 
 Of all human inventions, language 
 has the widest and most constant use. 
 Its function is expression. In this it 
 excels all other forms of art — archi- 
 tecture, sculpture, painting. Its chief 
 consideration should be, how well it 
 performs its sole function.? However, 
 since language split into two great parts 
 with the invention of writing — that is 
 to say, oral and written language, be- 
 tween which the multiple and extending 
 
 223 
 
English Orthography 
 
 relations may be likened to a slow and 
 inevitable growth — ^minor considerations 
 of each part have thrust themselves 
 into notice. One of these minor insis- 
 tencies is orthography; another is ortho- 
 epy. Both have been discussed for sev- 
 eral centuries. Six hundred years ago 
 a monk, named Ormin, tried to settle 
 the question of orthography. He at- 
 tempted to make the spelling of English 
 words conform to their pronunciation. 
 His dismal failure was but the earnest 
 of a long list of failures equally dismal. 
 John Cheke, in the early part of the 
 sixteenth century, or about three hun- 
 dred years after the writer of "The 
 Ormulum," tried his fist also at the 
 reforming of English spelling. Cheke 
 was a professor; he taught Greek at 
 Cambridge. Why should he not upset 
 English spelling.? We are sure, at least, 
 that he did not. Three hundred years 
 before him, Ormin attempted to give 
 
 224 
 
English Oiihography 
 
 exact vowel sounds by writing conso- 
 nants certainwise. Professor Cheke, on 
 the contrary, applied his method directly 
 to the vowels themselves. He thought 
 to express their long sounds by doubling 
 them. Hence he spelled made "maad." 
 
 Following the Professor, came Sir 
 Thomas Smith in 1658. Sir Thomas 
 wrote a book on English Orthography 
 in Latin. This was an act of singular 
 wisdom. The title of his book was, 
 " De Recta et Emendata Linguae Anglicance 
 Scriptio7ie." He was the first to pro- 
 pose a phonetic alphabet. He started 
 that peculiar kind of craze which has 
 come down to us. He was the father 
 of a new failure— the ancestor of a 
 whole line of failures. 
 
 The next year plain old John Hart 
 brought out a book which he had the 
 good taste to write in English. His 
 book was called, "An Orthographie con- 
 taining the Due Order and Reason howe 
 
 15 225 
 
English Orthography 
 
 to Write or Print th' Image of Mannes 
 Voice most like to Life or Nature." 
 He, too, insisted on phonetic spelling, 
 as shown by an extract from his preface: 
 "To the doubtfull of the English Ortho- 
 graphic .... we ought to use an 
 order in writing which, nothing cared 
 for unto this day, our predecessors have 
 ben drouned in a maner of negligence, 
 to bee contented with such maner of 
 writing as they and we now have found 
 from age to age, without any regard 
 to the several parts of the voice, which 
 the writing ought to represent .... 
 And accordinglye here followeth a 
 certain order of true writing of the 
 speech, and founded on reason — mother 
 of all sciences; wherewith you may 
 happily be profited; and so health and 
 the grace of God be with you. So be 
 it." He probably found, as so many 
 have since, that "reason" was a poor 
 prop for orthography. 
 
English Orthography 
 
 One hundred and nineteen years later, 
 John Wilkins, Dean of Ripon, afterward 
 Bishop of Chester, wrote a large folio 
 which he called an "Essay," and in 
 which he sought to reveal the true phil- 
 osophy and scientific structure of language. 
 His book was called: An Essay toward 
 a Real Character and a Philosophical 
 Language. But the Reverend one's ef- 
 forts came to naught, very like those 
 who seek fountains of youth, or pots 
 of gold at the end of a rainbow. And 
 for the very good reason, that the things 
 which he hoped to discover did not 
 exist then, nor do they exist now. For 
 the science of language is quite different 
 from the art of communication, in which 
 he tried to find science and philosophy. 
 It is difficult for many of us to realize 
 that language is merely an art. 
 
 However, the zealous Dean invented 
 a phonetic alphabet of four hundred 
 and fifty characters. His phonetic al- 
 
 227 
 
English Orthography 
 
 phabet fared no better than Ellis' "Glos- 
 sic," or Sweet's "Romie" system. He 
 gave us the Lord's Prayer somewhat 
 after this phonetic fashion: 
 
 " Your fadher hoititsh art in heven 
 halloed bi dhyi nam, dhyi cingdym 
 cym, dhyi omll bi dyn, in erth az it 
 iz in heven; giv ys dhis dai jour daili 
 bred, and fargiv ys jour trespassez az 
 ouii fargiv dhem dhat trespas against 
 ys, and led ys nat intozi temptaisian, 
 byt deliver ys fram ivil, far dhyin iz 
 dhe cingdym, dhi pyouer and dhi glari, 
 far ever and ever. Amen." 
 
 But the good Dean's book went the 
 way of mortals, even as he, and made 
 as little impress on English spelling as 
 the works of his predecessors. 
 
 Somewhat over a hundred years ago, 
 John Walker attempted to settle the 
 question of pronunciation for good and 
 all. Unfortunately, or otherwise, he set- 
 tled it no more effectually than Pro- 
 
 228 
 
English OHhography 
 
 fessor Lounsbury has settled spelling in 
 more recent years. Both Walker and 
 Lounsbury had good and suflScient rea- 
 sons for not settling them, inasmuch 
 as, in the very nature of things, they 
 cannot be settled. 
 
 Walker assumed the false premise 
 that language was a combination of 
 signs which should determine the arti- 
 culation of corresponding sounds. In 
 truth, language was, and is, nothing 
 of the kind; but rather a combination 
 of sounds which may be approximately 
 indicated by the written signs. Expres- 
 sion — the sole function of language — 
 was overlooked by him; and he failed 
 also to grasp the fact that the only 
 legitimate function of letters is to suggest 
 to the mind the sounds of speech. He 
 was over-zealous in trying to determine 
 how certain combinations of characters 
 should be pronounced. He put the cart 
 before the horse. And so down to the 
 
English Orthography 
 
 present time a long line of more or 
 less notable orthographic and orthoepic 
 reformers have attempted to do what 
 never has been done, and what never 
 will be done, by the methods that have 
 been employed. 
 
 Although we know very well that 
 the Anglo-Saxon pronunciation was meant 
 to be phonetic, it never reached that 
 state. In the twelfth and thirteenth 
 centuries there was a marked change 
 in the sounds of English speech. Especi- 
 ally was this true when the Anglo-Saxon 
 symbols gradually gave way to the French. 
 In the fourteenth century "phonetic 
 accuracy" wandered still farther away. 
 In the fifteenth century the sound of 
 final e was lost, and no longer formed 
 a distinct syllable, but was retained 
 symbolically "to denote the length of 
 the preceding vowel." In the sixteenth 
 century so called "etymological" and 
 "phonetic" forms of spelling were the 
 
 230 
 
English Orthography 
 
 fashion among some folk, although these 
 forms were ignorantly applied, and re- 
 sulted only in confusion. Since 1600, 
 orthographic changes have been compara- 
 tively slight, while the changes in pronun- 
 ciation, especially of the vowel-sounds, 
 have varied from time to time consider- 
 ably. 
 
 Even Alexander J. Ellis admits that 
 pronunciation fluctuates suddenly, rather 
 than gradually. And while this may 
 not be wholly true, still, we know that 
 orthoepy is never stable long at a time. 
 Man varies the sounds of his words 
 in such an incalculable manner that 
 it is impossible to conceive it to be done 
 in accordance with any fixed principle. 
 The variation seems rather to be governed 
 by exigency, necessity, or whim. At all 
 events, the history, of English spelling 
 proves that the pronunciation of words 
 never has submitted to the rigidity of 
 orthography, although it is not denied 
 
 231 
 
English Orthography 
 
 that spelling has at times modified the 
 pronunciation in a small way. 
 
 It scarcely requires a profound insight 
 into language to see that usage precedes 
 science; and that, while science may 
 fashion orthography to its own liking, in a 
 limited sense usage must govern orthoepy. 
 Reasoning from the known, it may be 
 pardonable to predict that since usage 
 has, in a broad sense, governed both 
 spelling and pronunciation in the past, 
 it is not unlikely to do so in future 
 regardless of the bans of science, of 
 "Declarations of Independence," or of 
 other hysterics of spelling reformers. The 
 reason of it is plainly to be seen; for 
 inasmuch as the function of language 
 is expression, it follows that unless lan- 
 guage can be understood, its function 
 is destroyed. Certairjly it could not be 
 understood, except by a relatively few 
 specialists, if it were to vary widely 
 from common usage. 
 
English Orthography 
 
 As a matter of fact, we pronounce 
 and spell as we do, out of necessity, 
 and for a similar reason to that which 
 debars us from changing our ancestors, 
 however much it might please us to do so. 
 Words of today are the children of yester- 
 day. Many of them do not suit us; and 
 if "official" action could erase the "num- 
 berless false etymologies" no objection 
 should be made. But a convention of 
 reformers, or a clique of wiseacre special- 
 ists, is as powerless to change the fashion 
 of speaking and writing words, as would 
 be a convention of noisy crows. The 
 change, on the whole, must be slow 
 and according to growth. And it is 
 advisable that it should be; for it would 
 be no less a task to overturn a written 
 language, than a spoken one. In the 
 admirable words of Professor Brander 
 Matthews is the key to the whole situation: 
 "We have now to face the fact that in 
 no language is a sudden and far-reaching 
 
 233 
 
English Orthography 
 
 reform in spelling ever likely to be at- 
 tained; and in none is it less likely 
 than in English." Professor Matthews 
 has, however, developed the nimble pro- 
 fessorial faculty of straddling the fence 
 with a perfection of grace which is 
 almost alarming. But, granting for a 
 moment the possibility, it is not difficult 
 to see that the unfavorable consequences 
 would far outnumber and overrun the 
 advantages to be gained. The literature 
 of the past would be, to all general 
 purposes, blotted out. Erato would needs 
 be born again, even as the unregenerate 
 sinner. The poets would have to appeal 
 to the gods for a strong hippocras with 
 which to inspire new songs — all which, 
 however, might not be the very worst 
 evil that could befall the children of 
 men. And since the very nature of 
 orthography is incompatible, precisely, 
 with that of orthoepy, another refor- 
 mation would be required within a few 
 
English Orthography 
 
 generations. Absolute conformity of 
 sound to symbol is not possible. There 
 is not even a general agreement amongst 
 us, as to the exact utterance of com- 
 binations of sounds forming words and 
 phrases. Different persons give different 
 shades and tones to some of the simplest 
 sounds. No two organs of hearing are 
 exactly alike. No two persons articulate 
 precisely the same. And the usage of 
 one generation, and of one locality, 
 differs from that of another. If examples 
 were needed, English abounds in them. 
 For instance, sewer was once upon a 
 time pronounced shore. The ew had 
 the sound of ew in sew (sow), and s 
 the sound of s in sugar. In one locality 
 door is called doh, and so forth. If 
 revolutions, therefore, in orthography 
 were once begun in earnest, they would, 
 like those of a political kind in Central 
 America, go on forever. 
 
 However, if a language could be re- 
 
 235 
 
English Orthography 
 
 formed by an act of Congress, and a new 
 one drafted by the hand of Science, and 
 enforced by the poHce, it were possible 
 to see dimly how word-sounds might 
 be made to conform to orthography. 
 For it is not beyond average intelhgence 
 to grasp the postulate, that if the number 
 of sounds in a language could be exactly 
 determined; if these sounds could be 
 equally well apprehended by all; if 
 a letter could be provided for each 
 sound; if the sounds could remain un- 
 changed — always tallied by the letters; 
 and if a uniform conception of their 
 value could be had by all persons using 
 them — then any word could be easily 
 and exactly expressed orally, as in writ- 
 ? ing. But this condition never has ex- 
 isted, and, moreover, the nature of 
 language, the laws of physiology, the 
 variations in functions of sense, the 
 element of diversity, so to speak, in 
 mankind, all make it probable that 
 
 236 
 
English Orthography 
 
 this ideal condition will not soon come 
 to pass. 
 
 No one could reasonably object to 
 the striking out of certain superfluous 
 letters in many words, where these letters 
 are clearly the interpolations of false 
 philologists, out of deference to supposed 
 philologic inheritances. 
 
 The opinion is pretty general among 
 those qualified to judge, that our present 
 fashion in spelling should be reduced 
 to some sort of system. The natural 
 question is. How shall it be done, and 
 by whom ? Many specialists in philology 
 have their own peculiar hobbies, which 
 they ride oft-times as ridiculously as 
 the amateur philologist insists upon cer- 
 tain etymological relationships between 
 words which have nothing whatever ety- 
 mologically in common. 
 
 No one should deny that it is the 
 province of the true scholar to indicate 
 the way to orthographic simplification; 
 
 237 
 
English Orthography 
 
 but beyond that he cannot go. It might 
 be pertinent to inquire, by what authority 
 have individuals, or conventions the right 
 to lay down laws for the regulation 
 either of orthography or orthoepy as 
 against general usage? It requires, and 
 justly so, the consent .and co-operation of 
 the majority of English-speaking people 
 to change radically either their pro- 
 nunciation or their spelling, however 
 good, or bad, the change might be. 
 
 If orthography is a growth, it has 
 doubtless been marred by false and 
 fussy etymologists, just as it has been 
 helped and beautified by scholars, whose 
 judgment was not sapped by their scho- 
 lastic stunts. Nevertheless, in the main, 
 orthography must find its simplification, 
 its purity and growth, in usage rather 
 than in the dogmatic dictates of the 
 professorial clique. 
 
 So far as I know, no one makes a 
 plea for present English spelling on 
 
 238 
 
English Orthography 
 
 the grounds of its "sacredness," or "in- 
 spiration," as Professor Matthews seems 
 to think. One scarcely needs to grow 
 old before learning to take with the 
 eternal grain of salt many statements 
 made by self-anointed authorities. The 
 great trouble with this class of reformers 
 is, that they overreach and calk them- 
 selves. 
 
 Richard Grant White adhered to many 
 of these views long ago; and while 
 they are no more original for that reason, 
 they are none the less pat today. 
 
 Some of those who are loudest in 
 their protestations against the present 
 style in spelling — those who insist that 
 it should conform to sound, and hence 
 acquire a shifting value — are not blind 
 to the fact that a changing orthography 
 would be a bad thing. It is well recog- 
 nized that in rhyme, for instance, the 
 correspondence of sound is vital, rather 
 than of form. 
 
English Orthography 
 
 Our present method of spelling may 
 be very "contemptible," as Professor 
 Lounsbury says; and the reasons given 
 for adhering to it instead of "reforming" 
 it to the verge and pitch of anarchy 
 may be even more "contemptible," as 
 the learned Professor clearly states; yet 
 I fail to see wherein Professor Louns- 
 bury, by either his "real" scholarship 
 or his influence on English, is justified 
 in his remarks. If, as the Professor 
 says, there is "a divorce . . , be- 
 tween English letters and English scholar- 
 ship," the "divorce" has not impaired 
 English literature, nor in any appre- 
 ciable degree the enjoyment of it; it 
 has not added in noticeable profusion to 
 the laurels on the brow of English schol- 
 arship — certainly it has not placed a 
 tyrant's crown thereon. 
 
 Suppose that the present orthography 
 "hides the history of the word instead 
 of revealing it": how would the world 
 
 840 
 
English Orthography 
 
 be improved by revealing the history 
 of words, at the expense of a common 
 understanding of the words themselves ? 
 Why need orthography, necessarily, be 
 a guide to the derivation of a word, 
 except for the convenience of such learned 
 and good-natured gentlemen as Professor 
 Lounsbury and some others ? If the 
 "consensus of scholars makes the slight- 
 est possible impression upon men of 
 letters throughout the whole great Anglo- 
 Saxon community," so much the worse 
 for the scholars. But the accuracy of 
 this statement is open to doubt, I fear, 
 as well as that of another statement by 
 Professor Lounsbury, that, "There is 
 hardly one of them [men of letters] who 
 does not fancy he is manifesting a noble 
 conservatism by holding fast to some 
 spelling peculiarly absurd, and thereby 
 maintaining a bulwark against the ruin 
 of the tongue." I have known a few 
 men of letters, and I have never known 
 
 16 241 
 
English Orthography 
 
 one who did not have something to write 
 about, other than kindergarten quib- 
 bles and the pedagogue's hair-splitting 
 theories. 
 
 Surely, a change in spelling should 
 not be the most engrossing pursuit of 
 linguists. For the most part, people 
 get on tolerably well with their present 
 orthography. It satisfies the needs of 
 a splendid literature; it accommodates 
 the artistic and daily requirements of 
 our language. As for speech, spelling 
 has nothing to do with it. Orthography 
 is peculiar to writing, and there would 
 be no occasion for it without. Spelling 
 has nothing to do with the higher arts — 
 nothing to do with ethics or morals. 
 Words are not made by combining let- 
 ters, but by combining sounds, for which 
 the letters are more or less arbitrary 
 symbols. 
 
 Previous to the eleventh century, 
 and before the conquest by William 
 
 242 
 
English Orthography 
 
 of Normandy, only a few words had 
 been taken into English directly from 
 the Latin. It has been estimated that 
 there were about one hundred and sixty 
 of such words. But up to the present 
 time the number of primary words, 
 thus directly appropriated, is somewhere 
 between twenty-five hundred and three 
 thousand. For many centuries Latin 
 has been the learned tongue — the eccle- 
 siastic and scholastic language. It has 
 been in literary use from an early 
 period. Besides this, the Vulgate edition 
 of the Bible in itself has been the means 
 largely of increasing the list of our Latin 
 words unmodified by other languages. 
 These words were taken from a "dead" 
 language — dead only in the sense that 
 its orthoepy had perished. So far as 
 English is concerned, in appropriating 
 these words, their sounds did not precede 
 their forms. At first, the process of 
 Anglicizing them amounted to little more 
 
 243 
 
English Orthography 
 
 than pronouncing them according to 
 the sound-value of our alphabet. Thus, 
 the adjustment of sound to symbol was 
 purely arbitrary. How could they be 
 subjected to a phonetic standard — and 
 why should they.? The notion suggests 
 to me the incident of the simple-minded 
 fellow, who went to an artist to have 
 his mother's portrait painted. The terms 
 were agreed upon, and the painter ap- 
 pointed a sitting. "But mother is dead," 
 said the son. "Then bring me a likeness 
 of her," said the artist. "I haven't 
 any," replied the son, "but I can tell 
 you exactly how she looked." The pain- 
 ter carefully noted the description, and 
 in due time sent for his client to pass 
 upon the portrait. The simple-minded 
 fellow stood before the canvas for several 
 minutes in deep meditation, silently weep- 
 ing the while. The artist, flattered at 
 the tearful evidence of his success, ex- 
 claimed: "Fine picture of your mother, 
 
 244 
 
English Orthography 
 
 eh?" "Yes," said the young man, wip- 
 ing away a tear, "fine picture, but it 
 breaks my heart to see how poor mother 
 has changed — and to think, she's been 
 dead only three months, at that." 
 
 Next to Latin, for scholastic and 
 scientific purposes, comes the introduc- 
 tion of Greek words. Up to the time 
 of Edward VI, they were borrowed 
 in Latinized or GaUicized forms. "Li- 
 deed," to use the words of Skeat, 
 "all Greek words have to be transliter- 
 ated into Latin letters before we can 
 
 make use of them in English 
 
 Thus from a purely linguistic point of 
 view, the value of Greek as compared 
 with Latin — ^for the purpose of explain- 
 ing English words — ^may be said to 
 be very shght." 
 
 It does not require a great "scholar" 
 to discern that Latin and Greek words, 
 for the most part, were not introduced 
 directly into English, but became Angli- 
 
 245 
 
English Orthography 
 
 cized through Old French. And it fol- 
 lows plainly enough, therefore, that the 
 orthography which incorporates unmodi- 
 fied Latin and Greek forms, except 
 where these forms are borrowed directly, 
 is illogical. This faulty logic becomes 
 more noticeable when it is remembered 
 that the Latin and Greek elements in 
 our tongue are small, relatively, com- 
 pared with the native English, Scandi- 
 navian and Old French. And to be 
 consistent, I suppose, our spelling should 
 suggest etymologies coming from the 
 greatest source of our vocabulary, if 
 it is to suggest those of smaller tributaries. 
 It may be urged, however, that orthog- 
 raphy was not invented to serve the 
 ends of etymology, since the purposes 
 of the two are to all intents so widely 
 different. 
 
 If the phonetic reformers — the "only 
 real etymologists" — were to devote them- 
 selves more to the task of ridding our 
 
 246 
 
English Orthography 
 
 tongue of the warts and froth of speech, 
 it would be better than making them- 
 selves ill over the matter of whether the 
 ue should be lopped off the word cata- 
 logue. English has needless words and 
 cumbrous phrases to be disposed of — 
 bad words that need weeding out, and 
 good words that need cultivating. There 
 should be more exactness in the meaning 
 of words, and greater precision in the 
 use of them; and there are many worthy 
 words whose compounding power might 
 well be increased. 
 
 Another fact, apparently missed by the 
 phonetic reformers, is that orthography, 
 in many instances, serves to suggest ideas 
 rather than sounds. This is true in scores 
 of technical words as well as in many 
 common words introduced into English 
 directly from a so-called dead language. 
 To degrade these words, by reducing them 
 to a phonetic standard, is to deprive them 
 of their sole use. 
 
 247 
 
English Orthography 
 
 As I have intimated before, if written 
 language conformed to spoken language, 
 one would, of course, be as variable 
 as the other; and, as marked peculiarities 
 of pronunciation exist in different local- 
 ities, phonetic spelling would naturally 
 result in confusion. To recur to the 
 word door, for example: in one locality it 
 would be spelled doh; in another dorr; 
 and so forward with hundreds of others. 
 The language of the "smart set," for in- 
 stance, would be totally incomprehen- 
 sible to the "masses" — which would be a 
 great pity. As it is, faulty as our spelling 
 may be, door written everywhere is 
 equally well understood by all. And 
 while there seems to be a tendency 
 toward uniformity of pronunciation every- 
 where, and while that tendency is strong 
 enough to bear one standard of orthog- 
 raphy, it is hardly strong enough to sup- 
 port a radical and sweeping change. 
 
 The etymological considerations of 
 
 248 
 
English Orthography 
 
 spelling are of little importance to any 
 except etymologists. Nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine out of a thousand persons 
 use language for other than purely ety- 
 mological purposes. In these blessed 
 days, the poor have to scratch for food 
 and raiment, and the rich for new sen- 
 sations. These days are not essentially 
 different from other days, and the far- 
 future, even, withholds from us any 
 signs of a rosy millennium. So it would 
 seem that the purely etymological aspect 
 of the subject is of relatively small 
 importance. 
 
 No objection is urged against that 
 which suggests etymological trails in the 
 underbrush of words, whether the "real" 
 etymology is discovered in a spelling 
 which retains root-remnants and silent 
 letters of other days, or whether in the 
 sounds which compose the words. And if, 
 on the other hand, the letters of a word 
 fail to correspond exactly to its sounds, 
 
 349 
 
English Orthography 
 
 and thereby, in a measure, obscure the 
 word's etymology, which so greatly exas- 
 perates the Reverend Professor Walter 
 W. Skeat, what of it ? He should still be 
 able to teach Anglo-Saxon at Cambridge, 
 and we should still be able to read the 
 masters of the past, and to express 
 our loves and hopes — our joys of flesh 
 and aspirations of the soul — our dreams 
 and woes — our common thought of daily 
 wont, and all the nobler pleasures of 
 all higher art. While the history of 
 English orthography is interesting, be- 
 cause in it only are we able to determine 
 the manner of spelling words as we do, 
 yet it is not, I venture to say again, 
 the most important thing in the study 
 of language. 
 
 Professor Francis A. March was greatly 
 exercised over the movement of reform 
 in English spelling. He objected to a 
 comparatively changeless orthography, 
 because it "destroys the material for 
 
 250 
 
English Orthography 
 
 etymological study." Almost any oafish 
 yeoman ought to be able to comprehend 
 the seriousness of such a situation in 
 the eyes of a professor. Still, if a few 
 professors suffer for the convenience of 
 millions of folk less learned, I, for 
 one, have no tears to shed. Besides, 
 an approximate fixity of orthography 
 seems to me to be essential to the enduring 
 beauty of hterature; preserving forms 
 which otherwise would be lost in ruin. 
 
 Dear old Max Miiller believed in 
 a reform in English spelling. So do 
 many; but he also believed that if it 
 were done, it should be done sweepingly. 
 And as to the feasibility of that, he 
 expressed grave doubts. 
 
 To reiterate, the only function of 
 writing, apart from ideographic methods, 
 is to indicate sounds, not to paint them. 
 
 There are many who complain of the 
 influence of the introduction of printing 
 on English orthography. Little need be 
 
 251 
 
English Orthography 
 
 said in reply to them; for it is pretty 
 well proved that printing gave this value, 
 at least, to orthography: it made it 
 "common to all the millions of the 
 English-speaking peoples." 
 
 Dr. Johnson also comes in for a share 
 of blame; but it has been clearly shown 
 by White that the Doctor's Dictionary 
 "merely recorded a spelling that had 
 been established for fifty years." 
 
 Now let us hope that from the great 
 diversity of opinion on English orthog- 
 raphy may issue beauty and utility; 
 and that from our imperfect spelling 
 may come a simpler and purer form. 
 But I fear me that the signers of "Dec- 
 larations of Independence," meddlesome 
 coteries of "literary marauders," and 
 bigoted margraves of the class-room will 
 not force the growth. 
 
 Richard Grant White long ago con- 
 cluded that a radical reformation in 
 English spelling was first, unnecessary; 
 
 252 
 
English Orthography 
 
 second, undesirable; and third, impos- 
 sible. This recalls to mind an old story 
 of a Scotch preacher, who, upon meeting 
 one of his hearers after the services, 
 inquired of him how he liked the sermon. 
 The reply was: "I dinna like it for 
 three rizzens — -first, ye read it; second, 
 ye dinna read it weel; and third, it 
 was na worth readin'." 
 
 253 
 
WORDS WHICH HAVE CHANGED 
 SINCE SHAKSPERE WROTE 
 
 THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH 
 
WORDS WHICH HAVE CHANGED 
 SINCE SHAKSPERE WROTE 
 
 THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH 
 
 (A Few Examples from Elizabethan English) 
 
 AsotnsTD, "aboundeth in wickednesse"; "to 
 abound in . . . vices." 
 
 Malcome But I have none: the king-becoming graces. 
 
 As justice, verity, temp'rance, stablenesse, 
 
 Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowlinesse. 
 
 Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
 
 I have no rellish of them, but abound 
 
 In the division of each several! crime. 
 
 Acting in many wayes. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Abuse, "to deceive"; "Abuses me to damne me." 
 
 Macbeth Now o're the one halfe-world 
 
 Nature seems dead, and wicked dreames abuse 
 
 The curtain'd sleepe. 
 
 Act II, Sc. I 
 
 Addition, "title; mark of distinction." 
 
 Rosse In which addition, haile, most worthy thane! 
 
 Act I, Sc. Ill 
 
 Adhere, "suit, agree, befitting." 
 Lady Macbeth Nor time nor place 
 
 Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. 
 Act I, Sc. VII 
 
 17 257 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Admir'd, "amazing, astonishing." 
 
 Lady Macbeth You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good 
 meeting 
 With most admir'd disorder. 
 
 Affection, "disposition . " 
 
 Malcome With this there growes 
 
 In my most ill-compos'd ajfeclion such 
 A stanchlesse avarice that, were I king, 
 I should cut off the nobles for their lands. 
 Act IV. Sc. Ill 
 
 Agitation, "activity." 
 
 Doctor A great perturbation in nature, to receyve at 
 once the benefit of sleepe, and do the effects 
 of watching! In this slumbry agitation, 
 besides her walking and other actuall perform- 
 ances, what, at any time, have you heard her say ? 
 Act V, Sc. I 
 
 Annoyance, "injury." 
 
 Doctor More needs she the divine then the physilian. 
 God, God forgive us all! Looke after her; 
 Remove from her the meanes of all annoyance. 
 And still keepe eyes upon her. 
 
 Act V Sc. I 
 
 Appall, "make pale." 
 
 Macbeth I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that 
 which might appall the divell. 
 
 Act III, Sc. IT 
 
 Approve, " prove, show." 
 
 Banquo This guest of summer. 
 
 The temple-haunting marlet, does approve 
 
 By his lov'd mansionry that th' heaven's breath 
 
 Smells wooingly here. 
 
 Act I, Sc. VI 
 258 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Aktificiall, "cunning, shading into deceitful." 
 Hecat And that, distill'd by magicke slights. 
 Shall raise such arUficiaU sprights 
 As by the strength of their illusion 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion. 
 
 Act III, Sc. V 
 
 Attend, "await, wait for, expect." 
 
 Lady Macbeth Say to the king I would attend his leysure 
 For a few words. 
 
 Ad in, Sc. II 
 
 Macdujfe Let our just censures 
 
 Attend the true event, and put we on 
 Industrious souldiership. 
 
 Act V, Sc. IV 
 
 Beside, "so as to miss." 
 
 Matcame We have met with foes 
 
 That strike beside us. 
 
 Act V, Sc. VII 
 
 Bestride, "defend." 
 
 " Tels them he doth bestride a bleeding land." 
 Macdujfe Let us rather 
 
 Hold fast the mortall sword, and like good men 
 Bestride our downfall birthdome. 
 
 Act TV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Challenge, "find fault with." 
 Macbeth Who may I rather challenge for unkindnesse 
 Then pitty for mischance. 
 
 Act III, Sc. IT 
 
 Chambers, "private rooms or residence of a king." 
 
 Mdcome Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand 
 That chambers will be safe. 
 
 Act V, Sc. IV 
 
 i59 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Chance, "misfortune, calamity." 
 
 Macbeth Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance. 
 
 Act II, Sc. Ill 
 
 Chastise, "to put down rebellion." 
 
 Lady Macbeth High thee hither. 
 
 That I may powre my spirits in thine eare. 
 And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
 All that impeides thee from the golden round 
 Which fate and metaphysicall ayde doth seeme 
 To have thee crown'd vdthall. 
 
 Act I, Sc. V 
 
 Chops, "jaws." 
 
 Captaine Which nev'r shooke hands nor bad farwell to him 
 Till he unseam'd him from the nave to th' chops 
 And fix'd his head upon our battlements. 
 Act I, Sc. II 
 
 DispAiKE, "cease to trust in." 
 
 Macduffe Dispaire thy charme; 
 
 And let the angeU whom thou still hast serv'd 
 Tell thee Macduffe was from his mother's womb 
 Untimely ript. 
 
 Act V, Sc. VII 
 
 Dispatch, "management." 
 
 Lady Macbeth And you shall put 
 
 This night's great business into my dispatch. 
 Act I, Sc. V 
 
 Dkenched, "drowned, submerged." 
 Lady Macbeth .... when in swinish sleepe 
 Their drenched natures lyes as in a death. 
 Act I, Sc. VII 
 860 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Fact, "crime" — "Still retained in legal phrase 
 
 'before the fact.'" 
 
 Lenox .... how monstrous 
 
 It was for Malcome and for Donalbane 
 To kill their gracious father ? damned factl 
 Act III, Sc. VI 
 
 Fast, "sound, now used only in the phrase 'fast 
 asleep. ' " 
 Oen&ewoman Since his Mijesty went into the field 
 I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her 
 night-gown upon her, unlocke her closset, take 
 foorth paper, folde it, write upon't, read it, 
 afterwards scale it, and againe returne to bed; 
 yet all this while in a most fast sleepe. 
 Act V, Sc. I 
 FiLTHiE, "murky." 
 
 Witches, all Padock calls anon. 
 
 Faire is foule, and foule is faire. 
 Hover through th' fogge and filthie ayre. 
 Act I, Sc. I 
 
 Gall, "poison, venom." 
 Lady Macbeth Gome to my woman's brests. 
 
 And take my milke for gaU, you murth'ring min- 
 isters. 
 
 Act I, Sc. V 
 
 Harness, "armour." 
 
 Macbeth Ring the alarum bell! blow, winde! come wracke! 
 At least wee'l dye with hamesse on our backe. 
 Act V, Sc. V 
 
 Holp: strong form of the verb — "past participle 
 of help"; now a colloquialism among the 
 Ignorant whites and blacks of some of the 
 Southern States, especially of Georgia. 
 261 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 King Where's the Thane of Cawdor ? 
 
 We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose 
 
 To be his purveyor: but he rides well. 
 
 And his great love, sharpe as his spurre, hath 
 
 holp)mii 
 To his home before us. 
 
 Act I, Sc. VI 
 
 Illnesse, "unscrupulousness." 
 
 Lady Macbeth Thou would'st be great; 
 
 Art not without ambition, but without 
 The illnesse should attend it. 
 
 Act I, Sc. V 
 
 Knit, "to bind." 
 
 . . . . " let me teach you how to knit againe 
 This scattered come into one mutuall sheafe." 
 
 Macbeth Sleepe that knits up the ravel'd sleave of care. 
 
 Act 11, Sc. II 
 
 Knot, "bond, tie." 
 
 Malcome Why in that rawnesse left you wife and childe. 
 
 Those precious motives, those strong knots of love. 
 Without leave-taking ? 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Leave, "royal permission to depart or final 
 audience with the king." 
 
 Malcome Our lacke is nothing but our leave. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Mabht, "to be sure." 
 
 Lenox The gracious Duncan 
 
 Was pittied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: 
 And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late. 
 Act III, Sc. VI 
 262 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Mated, "dazed." 
 
 Doctor My minde she has mated, and amaz'd my sight. 
 
 Act V, Sc. I 
 
 Melt, "fade away." 
 
 . . . . "the boy . . . was melted like a 
 vapour from her sight." 
 Macbeth .... and what seem'd corporall 
 Melted as breath into the winde. 
 
 Act I, Sc. Ill 
 
 Metaphysical, "supernatural." 
 (See Chastise) 
 
 MoNKiE, "term of endearment." 
 
 Wife Now, God helpe thee, poore monkiel But 
 
 how wilt thou do for a father ? 
 
 Act IV, Sc. II 
 
 Mortified, "benumbed." 
 
 Menteth Revenges burne in them; for their deere causes 
 Would do the bleeding, and the grim alarme 
 Excite the mortified man. 
 
 Act r, Sc. II 
 
 Nerves, "sinews." 
 
 Macbeth What man dare, I dare: 
 
 Approach thou like the rugged Russian beare, 
 The arm'd rhinoceros, or th' Hircan tiger; 
 Take any shape but that, and my firme nerves 
 Shall never tremble. 
 
 Act III, Sc. IV 
 
 Nice, "accurate with the notion of fanciful, 
 sophisticated." 
 Macduff e Oh, relation 
 
 Too nice, and yet too true! 
 
 Ad IV, Sc. Ill 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 NoTSE, "musical sounds." 
 
 . . . . "the isle is full of noyses. 
 Sounds and sweet aires that give delight and hurt 
 not." 
 MacbeOi Why sinks the caldron? and what noise is this? 
 
 Act IV, Sc. I 
 
 Oblivious, "causing forgetfulness." 
 
 Macbeth Cure her of that. 
 
 Can'st thou not minister to a minde diseas'd, 
 Plucke from the memory a rooted sorrow. 
 Raze out the written troubles of the braine. 
 And with some sweet oblivwus antidote 
 Cleanse the stufit bosome of that perillous stuffe 
 Which weighes upon the heart ? 
 
 Act V, Sc. in 
 
 Occasion, "necessity." 
 Lady Macbeth Hearke! more knocking: 
 
 Get on your night-gowne, least occasion call us 
 And shew us to be watchers : be not lost 
 So poorely in your thoughts. 
 
 Act II, Sc. II 
 Peake, "grow sickly." 
 
 First Witch Wearie sev'nights nine times nine 
 Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine; 
 
 Act I, Sc. Ill 
 Pkedominance, "astrological influence." 
 
 "Fooles by heavenly compulsion, knaves, 
 theeves, and treachers by sphericall predominance, 
 drunkards, lyars, and adulterers by an enforc'd 
 obedience of planatary influence." 
 Rosse Is 't night's predominance, or the dayes shame. 
 That daiknesse does the face of earth intombe. 
 When living light should kisse it ? 
 
 Ad II, Sc. IV 
 364 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Quell; usually a verb; "murder, to slay" — 
 
 slightly euphemistic. 
 
 Lady Macbeth What not put upon 
 
 His spungie officers, who shall bear the guilt 
 Of our great quell. 
 
 Act I, Sc. VIl 
 
 Ravkl'd, "entangled." 
 
 . . "as you would unwind her love from him, 
 Least it should ravell and be good to none." 
 Macbeth Sleepe that knits up the ravd'd sleave of care. 
 
 Act II, Sc. II 
 Ravishing, "rapid, swift." 
 
 Macbeth Alanim'd by his centineU, the wolfe. 
 
 Whose howle's his watch, thus with his stealthy 
 
 pace. 
 With Tarquin's ravishing slides, towards his 
 
 Moves like a ghost. 
 
 Act II, Sc. I 
 
 Reflection, "direct shining." 
 
 " May never glorious sunne reflex his beames 
 Upon the countrey where you make abode." 
 
 Relation, "report." 
 
 "I will behave thee and make my senses credite 
 thy relation." 
 
 RooTE, "progenitor." 
 
 Banquo Thou hast it now, king, Cawdor, Glamis, all. 
 As the weyard women promis'd; and I feare 
 Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide 
 It should not stand in thy posterity. 
 But that myselfe should be the roate and father 
 
 Of many kings. 
 
 Act III, Sc. I 
 
 365 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Remorse, "compassion." 
 
 Lady Macbeth Come, you spirits 
 
 That tend on mortall thoughts, unsex me here, 
 And fill me, from the crowne to th' toe, top-full 
 Of direst crueltie! make thick my blood. 
 Stop up th' accesse and passage to remorse. 
 That no compunctious visitings of nature 
 Shake my fuU purpose, etc. 
 
 . Ad 1, Sc. V 
 Seweb, "chief butler." 
 
 Clap me a clean towell about you, like a sewer; 
 and bare-headed march afore it (i. e., the dinner) 
 with good confidence. — Jonson 
 
 Sleave, "any kind of ravelled stuffe, or sleave 
 silk"; variously spelled sleeve, in the Folio; 
 sleive in the Quarto. 
 
 (See ravd'd) 
 
 Smells, "breathes upon." 
 
 (See approve) 
 Sole, "mere." 
 
 Malcome This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues. 
 Was once thought honest. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Stoiit, "proud, bold." 
 
 "As stout and proud as he were lord of all." 
 Rosse He findes there in the stout Norweyan rankes. 
 
 Act I. Sc. Ill 
 Stuffe, "rant." 
 
 "At this fusty jstoje . . Ach^es . . laughs" 
 
 Lady Macbeth O proper stujfet 
 
 This is the very painting of your feare. 
 
 Act III, Sc. IV 
 266 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Suggestion, "temptation." 
 Macbeth I am Thane of Cawdor: 
 
 It good, why doe I yeeld to that suggestion 
 Whose horrid image doth unfixe my heire 
 And make my seated heart knock at my ribbes 
 Against the use of nature. 
 
 Act I. Sc. Ill 
 Summer, "pleasant." 
 Macdufje This avarice 
 
 Sticks deeper, growes with more pernicious roote 
 Then sumTjier-seeming lust, and it hath bin 
 The sword of our slaine kings. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 Taint, "wither." 
 
 " . . failing of that moisture it flags, tainteth 
 (withereth) and by and by drieth away." 
 Madxth Bring me no more reports: let them flye all: 
 Till Byrnane wood remove to Ehmsinane, 
 I cannot taint with feare. 
 
 Act V, Sc. Ill 
 Touch, "harme, injure." 
 
 "Seeing his reputation touch'd to death." 
 Mad>eth Duncane is in his grave; 
 
 After life's fitfull fever he sleepes well; 
 Treason has done his worst: nor Steele nor poyson, 
 MaUice domestique, forraine levie, nothing. 
 Can touch him further. 
 
 Act III, Sell 
 Trifles, "tricks." 
 
 "Some enchanted triffle to abuse (deceive) me." 
 Banquo But 'tis strange: 
 
 And oftentimes, to winne us to our harme. 
 The instruments of darknesse tell us truths, 
 Winne us with honest trifles to betray 's 
 In deepest consequence. 
 
 Act I, Sc. Ill 
 
 267 
 
Words Which Have Changed 
 
 Trouble, "the sense of means of physical an- 
 noyance." 
 
 Witches For a charme of powerful trouble. 
 
 Like a hell-broth boyle and bubble. 
 
 Ad IV, Se. I 
 
 Unspeake, "to speak the contrary of." 
 
 Malcome For even now 
 
 I put myselfe to thy direction, and 
 Unspeake mine own detraction, heere abjure 
 The taints and blames I laid upon myselfe. 
 For strangers to my nature. 
 
 Act IV, Sc. Ill 
 
 Untitled, "having no title." 
 
 " False Deussa now untitled queene." 
 
 Macduffe O nation miserable. 
 
 With an untitled tyrant bloody sceptred. 
 When shalt thou see thy wholesome dayes againe. 
 Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
 By his owne interdiction stands accus'd. 
 And does blaspheme his breed ? 
 
 Act IV, Se. Ill 
 
 Womanly, "weak, unmanly." 
 
 Wife .... why then, alas! 
 
 Do I put up that womanly defence. 
 To say I have done no harme ? 
 
 Ad IV. Sc. II 
 
COMMONPLACE POETRY 
 
COMMONPLACE POETRY 
 
 POETRY is so deeply blended with 
 man's nature that he has ceased to 
 remark it. Poetry and passion go 
 hand in hand. We no longer wonder at 
 the red fountain of the breast that, 
 mounting the brow, falls in blushes on 
 the cheek of beauty. The circling sun no 
 longer prostrates us in worship at his ris- 
 ing — few of us now throw westward kisses 
 when he sets. Long association dulls the 
 edge of feeling. Beauty pales before the 
 continued gaze. Joy dies if kept too long 
 in one position. The happy man con- 
 tinually shifts his view-point. The wise 
 man ever changes his angle of vision. 
 Mental relations must forever be shuffled 
 if we would play with our environment 
 
 271 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 and keep up interest in the game. So 
 obvious is the truth of this that it might 
 almost be called verite de la Police. 
 
 Inexhaustible riches of poetry are every- 
 where evident in our language if we will 
 but focus the mind's eye on their beauty. 
 Speech for the most part is phraseology, 
 and yet oftentimes a single word holds 
 all the wealth and spirit of a perfect 
 poem. Look at many of our commonest 
 words: visualize their original meanings. 
 In some we find the savage growls of 
 wild beasts: these were born of bitter 
 hatred and of red revenge; and others 
 came forth from love and large self- 
 sacrifice. Some breathe only of hope: 
 "the stars have fashioned them" — others 
 are sighs of despair — echoes of agony, 
 terror and defeat. Again, there are some 
 that shine like gold and seem soft like 
 silk. A few are dancing sprites of joy; 
 and many are moans of old grief. Words 
 of passion and imagination have been 
 
 272 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 called "winds of the soul"; there are 
 others that seem like heavens in which 
 darkness touches lips with dawn. Some 
 words are crystals of human history — 
 in them we read what man has suffered 
 and enjoyed: we hear the shouts of 
 victory and the bugles of retreat — we 
 see again the battles lost and won. 
 "Words are the shadows of all that 
 has been — the mirrors of all that is." 
 
 Incentive meant "that which sets in 
 tune"; instigation comes "from a root 
 which means, 'to goad'"; depend origin- 
 ally meant, "to hang from"; front was 
 forehead; spoil, "to strip off the armor, 
 etc., of a slain or defeated enemy"; to 
 fret, "to eat up, to devour"; precocious, 
 "too early ripe"; and so forward in 
 such words as: chimera, braggadocio, 
 a lovelace, a guy, a gay Lothario, a 
 Paul Pry, Simon Pure, a Mrs. Harris, 
 Mrs. Grundy, a jehu, a Benedick, mean- 
 der, a Goth, a Vandal, a Tartar, assassin, 
 
 17 273 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 magic, phaeton, sandwich, muslin, mag- 
 net, jack, demijohn, etc. 
 
 Thousands of words are crystallized 
 poems. To make sure of it, we need 
 only to dig them out of time's rubbish 
 and to wash away the accretions which 
 distort them and hide the beauty of 
 their primitive meanings. For instance, 
 there is tribulation: tribulatio originally 
 signified the operation of separating the 
 wheat from the chaff by threshing or 
 beating with an instrument (L. tribulum). 
 Desultory is another interesting word, by 
 way of example. The Latin desultor is 
 "one who rides two or three horses at 
 once, leaps from one to the other, being 
 never on the back of any one of them 
 long." Therefore, a desultory man "is 
 one who jumps from one study to 
 another, and never continues for any 
 length of time in one." And caprice, 
 which came to us by way of the French 
 from (It.) capriccio, and (L.) caper, 
 
 g74 
 
Commonplaee Poetry 
 
 had a picturesque primitive meaning. 
 "Capriccio, a sudden start, a freak 
 motion; apparently from (It.) capro, a 
 goat, as of 'the skip of a goat'." "A 
 caprice, then, is a movement of the 
 mind as unaccountable, as Httle to be 
 guessed beforehand, as the springs and 
 bounds of a goat." 
 
 So it is with proper names and place- 
 names; when we resolve them into 
 their original meanings they often be- 
 come musical and poetic, as are the 
 words: Mississippi, Minnehaha, Man- 
 hattan, Tacoma, Ontario, Mohegan, Flor- 
 ida, Madeira, and a thousand others. 
 
 We have not forgotten that Margaret 
 meant the Pearl; Esther, the Star; Su- 
 sanna, the Lily; Stephen, the Crown; 
 and Albert, "the illustrious in birth." 
 
 Those who have visited Lucerne have, 
 most likely, ascended "Pilatus," as Mons 
 Pileatus is commonly called; yet all 
 may not remember that the name signi- 
 
 273 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 fies the cloud-capped hill, and has no 
 relation whatever to the ridiculous tale 
 of Pilate's remorse, and suicide by drown- 
 ing in its lake, as is so often told by 
 the enterprising guides to gaping tourists. 
 Himalaya, likewise, refers to the abode 
 of snow. 
 
 So too is petrel, the "little Peter," 
 who, like unto the Apostle Peter, at 
 his Master's bidding walks upon the 
 waves of a stormy sea. There is squirrel, 
 the umbrella-tail, or shadow-tail, or tail- 
 in-air according to " Hiawatha " : 
 
 Boys shall call you Adjidaumo, 
 Tail-in-air the boys shall call you. 
 
 Some words are so sweet of sound 
 that they carry scarcely any more weight 
 than a bird in its flight, and need no other 
 meaning than their beauty. "A thought 
 is married to a sound and a child- 
 word is born." We find these scattered 
 through idiomatic speech, which is always 
 
 276 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 more or less poetic. In Lancashire the 
 Aurora Borealis is called "the Merry 
 Dancers"; and in Denmark the lines 
 of descent are often spoken of as "the 
 sword line" (male) and "the spindle 
 line" (female). Excellent examples of 
 the poetic. Again, dactyl, a measure 
 in verse, has "reference to the long 
 first joint of the finger, and to the two 
 shorter which follow." Architecture has 
 been called "frozen music"; and we 
 have many such alliterative combinations 
 as: wind and weather, weal and woe, 
 safe and sound, chick nor child, house 
 and home, kith and kin. 
 
 What country-boy is unacquainted with 
 "the devil's darning-needle," which, like 
 a jeweled arrow, darts among the flowers 
 or poises over the swimming-pool ? We 
 have all heard the puff-ball called "the 
 devil's snuff-box"; and we have all 
 admired the lady-bird and watched the 
 king-fisher, and dreamed among such 
 
 277 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 flowers of our youth as: Aaron's rod, 
 bleeding-heart, bachelor-buttons, four- 
 o'clocks, honeysuckle, brown-eyed Susans, 
 morning-glories, passion-flowers, angel's 
 eyes, blue-bells, heart's-ease, maiden-hair, 
 meadow-sweet, lady-slippers, rosemary, 
 larkspur and sundew. 
 
 "You call it sundew: how It grows, 
 If with its color it have breath, 
 If life taste sweet to it, if death 
 Pain its soft petal, no man knows: 
 Man has no sight or sense that saith." 
 
 How commonplace and yet how poetic 
 is the word daisy — "day's eye," or, 
 as formerly spelled, "daiesighe"! 
 
 " Fair fall that gentle flower, 
 A golden tuft set in a silver crown." 
 
 "That wel by reson men hit calle may 
 The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day.' " 
 
 Thus we have the sun's disk of gold 
 mirrored in the meadow's tiny flower 
 wherefrom its circling silver leaves are 
 
 278 
 
Commonplace Poetry 
 
 symbolic of the rays of day. Here, 
 in the linking of "heaven's eye of day" 
 with a field-flower, we discover fine 
 poetic fancy and fair imagination. And 
 margarita, or little pearl, not of the sea 
 but of the sward, — how sweet the name! 
 So, in fine, we have the dandelion, 
 or lion's tooth — from the French, dent 
 de lion. — 
 
 (to MRS. A. H.) 
 
 dandelion peeping up 
 From grasses green. 
 
 Where many a nodding buttercup 
 
 Half-wake is seen. 
 Where violets with purple dreams 
 
 Are meek and low; 
 And golden sunlight slants and streams 
 
 Where lilies grow — 
 
 1 wonder if your purpose is 
 To cheer the land 
 
 God gave to men with gold of His 
 
 All-unseen hand; 
 Or if it be to teach us, here 
 
 In lowly places. 
 That Beauty blossoms ever near 
 
 In flowery faces. 
 
 279 
 
BOOKS AND AUTHORS 
 
BOOKS AND AUTHORS 
 
 NOTE ONE 
 
 INSTEAD of cluttering these pages with notes 
 and references, which few read, I will give 
 a list of authors and books consulted, and 
 in some cases quoted from, during the preparation 
 of this volume, for the convenience of those who 
 may wish to pursue the subject further. 
 
 Abbott, E. A. 
 
 Astle's Origin and Progress of Writing. 
 
 Ayeks, a. 
 
 Baskerville, W. M. 
 
 Blatk, H. 
 
 BoRELius, Tresor des Recherches et AntiquitSs 
 Gauloises. 
 
 BoRLASE, Natural History of Cornwall. 
 
 Browne's History of the Highlands and High- 
 land Clans. 
 
 Caledonian Bards, translated from the Gaelic. 
 
 Calmet, de la Poesie et Musique des Ancient 
 Hebreux. 
 
 Campbell, L. J. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Cheke, J. 
 
 383 
 
Books and Authors 
 
 Chesterfield, Loed. 
 Chubb, E. W. 
 
 Cleland's Specimens of an Etymological Vocabu- 
 lary. 
 COOPEB, W. C. 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 Cbabb. 
 
 Dana, C. A. 
 
 Darwin. 
 
 De la Rue, Essais Historiques sur les Bardes. 
 
 Eaele, J. 
 
 Eastcott, Sketches of the Origin, Progress and 
 
 Effects of Music. 
 Ellis. 
 Ellis, A. J. 
 Ellis, E. S. 
 Epictetus. 
 Espenshade, a. H. 
 Evans' Specimens of the Poetry of the Ancient 
 
 Welsh Bards. 
 Fernald, J. C. 
 
 Freret, Academe des Inscriptions. 
 Frisbee, J. F. 
 Greenough, J. B. 
 Haeckel. 
 Halsey, C. S. 
 Harrison, J. A. 
 Hart, J. 
 
 284 
 
Books and Authors 
 
 Hetdrick, B. a. 
 
 Hurt, Walter. 
 
 Ingersoll, R. G. 
 
 ImsTEs' Critical Essay on the Ancient Inhabitants 
 
 of Scotland. 
 Johnson, Dr. 
 Jones' Bardic Museum of Primiiive British 
 
 Literature. 
 
 JONSON. 
 
 Ker's Archaeology of our Popular Phrases. 
 Kipling. 
 
 KlTTREDGE, G. L. 
 
 Knight's Inquiry into the Symbolical Language 
 
 of Ancient Art and Mythology. 
 Knight's Shakspere. 
 Lacombe, Dictionnaire du vieux Langage Fran- 
 
 fois. 
 Latour d'Auvergne, Origines Gauloises. 
 Layamon's Brut or Chronicle of Britain. 
 Le Dantec, F. 
 
 Legonidec, Grammaire Celto-Bretonne. 
 LlDDELL, M. H. 
 
 lounsbury, t. r. 
 Mailloxjx, C. O. 
 March, F. A. 
 Marten, J. 
 Mathews, W. 
 Matthews, B. 
 
 285 
 
Boohs and Authors 
 
 Maui.e's History of the Picts. 
 Mead, L. 
 Mill, J. S. 
 
 MlMTON. 
 
 MULLEE, F. M. 
 
 Ohmin. 
 
 Patten, S. N. 
 
 Peet, L. H. 
 
 Peile, J. 
 
 Prichard's Eastern Origin of the Celtic Nations. 
 
 Reade, Winwood. 
 
 Roberts' Early History of the Britons. 
 
 Samtjel. 
 
 Shakspere. 
 
 Sheridan. 
 
 Skeat, W. W. 
 
 Smith, T. 
 
 Spencer. 
 
 Stevenson, R. L. 
 
 Sweet. 
 
 Swinburne. 
 
 Trench, R. C. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 Walker, J. 
 
 White, R. G. 
 
 Whitney, W. D. 
 
 WlLKINS, J. 
 
 Wright, J. 
 
 386 
 
Books and Authors 
 
 NOTE TWO 
 
 The Changing Values of English Speech was 
 written with special reference to the author's 
 The Worth of Words (Hinds, Noble and Eldredge) ; 
 that is to say, one volume supplements the other. 
 
 S87 
 
INDEX 
 
 IS 
 
INDEX 
 
 Aaron's rod, 278 
 
 Aberdeen, 47 
 
 Ability, 159, 160 
 
 Able, 160 
 
 Abominable, 176, 177 
 
 Abound, 257 
 
 Abstract terms, 124 
 
 Abuse, 257 
 
 Acknowledge and confess, 118 
 
 Act, 160, 161 
 
 Actio, 160 
 
 Action, 161 
 
 Actum, 160 
 
 Addison, 169 
 
 Addition, 257 
 
 Adhere, 257 
 
 Adjidaumo, 276 
 
 Admir'd, 258 
 
 Aestimo, 161 
 
 Affection, 258 
 
 Affection for words, 78 
 
 Aggravate, 161 
 
 Aggravattis, 161 
 
 Agitation, 258 
 
 Agricola, 45, 46 
 
 Aim, 161 
 
 Albert, 275 
 
 All, 162 
 
 Alliteration, 81 
 
 Alphabet, phonetic, 228 
 
 Altho, 221 
 
 Angel's-eyes, 278 
 
 Angles, 47, 48 
 
 Angle's-Land, 47 
 
 Anglian, 47 
 
 Anglo-French, 49 
 
 Anglo-Saxon, 46, 47, 48 
 
 Annoyance, 258 
 
 Appai, 258 
 
 Apple, evolution of, 57 
 
 Approve, 258 
 
 Arabic, 53 
 
 Archaic words, 90 
 
 Architecture, 277 
 
 Aristotle, 148 
 
 Arsenic, 128 
 
 Art, 98 
 
 Artistic temperament, 99 
 
 Art of language-expression, 99 
 
 Artificiall, 259 
 
 Assassin, 273 
 
 Association, 8S 
 
 B 
 
 Bab, 202 
 Baban, 201 
 
 291 
 
Index 
 
 Babe, 201 
 
 Babel. 155 
 
 Bachelor buttons, 278 
 
 Bacon, 107 
 
 Bad, 202 
 
 Badde, 202 
 
 Badder, 203 
 
 Bakke, 205 
 
 Bal, 203 
 
 Bald, 203 
 
 Balled, 203 
 
 BalUd, 203 
 
 Bard, 203, 204 
 
 Bardd, 204 
 
 Bardh, 204 
 
 Barrach, 204 
 
 Barrow, 204 
 
 Barrowed, 204 
 
 Barz, 204 
 
 Bascaid, 204 
 
 Basced, 204 
 
 Basged, 204 
 
 Basket, 204 
 
 Bat, 204, 205 
 
 Bata, 205 
 
 Bataiag, 205 
 
 Batte, 205 
 
 Batty, 205 
 
 Bauble, 205 
 
 Beauty, 64 
 
 Bedlam, VI 
 
 Benedick, 273 
 
 Beorgan, 204 
 
 Bequeath and convey, 118 
 
 Beran, 204 
 
 Berg, 204 
 
 Beside, 259 
 
 Bestride, 259 
 
 Bhrag, 209 
 
 Bible, Vulgate ed., 243 
 
 Bicker, 206 
 
 Bicra, 206 
 
 Bishop, 129 
 
 Bleeding-heart, 278 
 
 Blocan, 206, 207 
 
 Block, 206 
 
 Blockhead, 207 
 
 Blok, 206 
 
 Bludgeon, 207 
 
 Blue-bells, 278 
 
 Boast, 209 
 
 Boc, 211 
 
 Bocan, 212 
 
 Bog, 207 
 
 Bogach, 207 
 
 Bogan, 207 
 
 Boket, 211 
 
 Bold, 173 
 
 Borgen, 204 
 
 Borh, 204 
 
 Bother, 207 
 
 Bowl, 211 
 
 "Bow-wow" theory, 182 
 
 Brag, 208 
 
 Braga, 209 
 
 Bragaim, 209 
 
 Bragal, 210 
 
 Braggadodo, 273 
 
 Braggle, 210 
 
 Bragio, 209 
 
 Braigaim, 210 
 
 Braighean, 210 
 
 292 
 
Index 
 
 Brat, 209, 210 
 
 Brate, 210 
 
 Bratog, 210 
 
 Brawl, 210 
 
 Brawie, 210 
 
 Breagh, 209 
 
 Break, 209 
 
 Bren, 209 
 
 Brenn, 209 
 
 Brests, 261 
 
 Breton, 201 
 
 Brisk, 210 
 
 Britain, 45, 46, 211 
 
 Britons, 45 
 
 Brol, 210 
 
 Brown-eyed Susans, 278 
 
 Biysg, 211 
 
 Buaidhirt, 208 
 
 Buaidhrim, 208 
 
 Buc, 211 
 
 Bucaid, 211 
 
 Bucca, 212 
 
 Bucket, 211 
 
 Bug, 211 
 
 Bugaboo, 212 
 
 Bugbear, 212 
 
 Buicead, 211 
 
 Bully, 210 
 
 Bump, 212 
 
 Bung, 212 
 
 Burke, 170 
 
 Burly, 212 
 
 Bume, 263 
 
 Bums, 79 
 
 Bwg, 212 
 
 Bwgan, 212 
 
 Cabin, 212 
 
 Cassar, 45 
 
 Capable, 160 
 
 Capacious, 160 
 
 Capacitas, 160 
 
 Capacity, 159, 160 
 
 Caper, 274 
 
 Capriccio, 274, 275 
 
 Caprice, 274, 275 
 
 Capro, 275 
 
 Cart, 212 
 
 Catalog, 220 
 
 Celtic 45, 48, 201 
 
 Central (Parisian) French, 53 
 
 Challenge, 250 
 
 Chambers, 250 
 
 Chance, 260 
 
 Character, 71 
 
 Chastise, 260 
 
 Chaucer. 79, 202, 204, 210 
 
 Cheke. Prof., 51, 225 
 
 Chick nor child, 277 
 
 Chilliness, 125 
 
 Chimera, 273 
 
 Chops, 257 
 
 Christianity, 128 
 
 Cicero, 103, 104, 106 
 
 Classic speech, 72 
 
 Clean speech, 80 
 
 Clerc, 130 
 
 Clericus, 130 
 
 Clock, 212 
 
 Coax, 212 
 
 Cob, 212 
 
 Cobble, 212 
 
 293 
 
Index 
 
 Cock, 212 
 Cog, 212 
 Coil, 212 
 Cold, 125 
 
 Complete, 168, 169 
 Composite tongue, 45 
 Concrete terms, 124 
 Constantly, 105 
 Continually, 105 
 Converse, 174, 175 
 Conversing, 176 
 Copious style, 150 
 Cornish, 201, 202 
 Course, 169, 170 
 Cowley, 175 
 Crabb, 173, 177 
 Crack, 209 
 Cradle, 212 
 Crag, 212 
 Crease, 212 
 Crock, 212 
 Crone, 212 
 Cub, 212 
 Curd, 212 
 Curiosity, 197 
 Curses, 112 
 Gut, 212 
 
 D 
 
 Dactyl, 275 
 Dad, 212 
 Dagger, 212 
 Daiesighe, 278 
 Daisy, 278 
 Damn, 114 
 
 Damp, 125 
 Dampening, 125 
 Damper, 125 
 Dampness, 125 
 Dandelion, 279 
 Danes, 48 
 Darn, 212 
 Day's eye, 278 
 Deacon, 130 
 Deadly, 162 
 Decalog, 221 
 
 "Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence," 220 
 Deed, 160, 161 
 Delusion, 166 
 Demagog, 221 
 Dent de lion, 279 
 Depend, 273 
 Desultor, 274 
 Desultory, 274 , 
 
 Detestable, 176, 177 
 Devil's darning needle, 277 
 Devil's snufibox, 277 
 Dewey, 114 
 
 "Ding-dong" theory, 182 
 Dirk, 212 
 
 Discourse, 174, 175, 176 
 Dispaire, 260 
 Dispatch, 260 
 Distinctions, 157 
 Diversity, 130, 131 
 Dock, 212 
 Docket, 212 
 Door, 236 
 Down, 212 
 Drab, 212 
 
 294 
 
Index 
 
 Drenched 260 
 
 Drudge, 212 
 
 Druid. 212 
 
 Dry, 126 
 
 Dude's Description of Life, 
 
 A, 171 
 Dudgeon, 212 
 Dun, 212 
 Dune, 212 
 Dutch, 49 
 
 E 
 
 Each, 162 
 
 Early English, 45, 48, 50, 51, 
 
 52,53 
 Earnest 213 
 Ecclesia, 129 
 Edward III, 49 
 Edward VI, 50 
 Elasticity, 65 
 Elaterium, 129 
 Ellis, Alex. J., 231 
 End, 161, 162 
 England, 47, 48 
 Englise, 47 
 English, 49, 52 
 Entire, 168, 169 
 Epietetus, 175 
 Errors, 104 
 Esther, 275 
 Ethics, 63 
 Eyangelium, 130 
 Every, 162 
 
 Evolutionary theory, 182 
 Euphenusm, 60 
 
 Exaggerating, 208 
 Exasperate, 161 
 Exasperatus, 161 
 Execrable, 176 
 Experiences, 130 
 Expletives, 116, 118 
 
 Facilitas, 159 
 Facio, 159 
 Fact, 261 
 Facultas, 159 
 Faculty, 159, 160 
 Farragut, 113 
 Fast, 261 
 Fatal, 162 
 Fatherland, 91 
 FeeUng, 98 
 "Fiery Charger," 91 
 Filthie, 261 
 Florida, 275 
 Foreign words, 49 
 Four-o'clocks, 278 
 French, 49, 51 
 Fresh, 211 
 Fret, 211 
 Frisky, 211 
 Front, 273 
 
 "Frozen music," 277 
 Fun, 213 
 Future poetry, 86 
 
 Gaelic, 201, 202 
 Gag, 213 
 
 295 
 
Index 
 
 Gall, 261 
 
 Garner, Prof., 184. 185 
 
 Genius, 100 
 
 Genius of a tongue, 79 
 
 "Gentleman," 126, 127, 208 
 
 Gestures, 69 
 
 Gewgaw, 206 
 
 Glen, 213 
 
 Glib, 213 
 
 Glossic, Ellis', 228 
 
 Goggle-eyed, 213 
 
 "Good usage," 107 
 
 "Goo-goo" theory, 182 
 
 Goth, 273 
 
 Grown, 213 
 
 Grady, H. W., 118 
 
 Greek, 50. 51, 53 
 
 Greenough, Prof., 182 
 
 Griddle, 213 
 
 Gridley, 114 
 
 Grounds, 213 
 
 GuU, 213 
 
 Guy, a, 273 
 
 H 
 
 Habilitas, 160 
 Harness, 261 
 Hart, Jno., 226 
 Have, 162 
 Healer, 130 
 Heart's-ease, 278 
 Hebrew, 63 
 Hebrew Scriptures, 53 
 Hengest, Mr., 46 
 Henry HI, 49 
 
 Hiawatha, 276 
 Hieroglyphic bat, 205 
 Himalaya, 276 
 Hippocrates, 129 
 Hobgoblin, 212 
 Holland, 49 
 Holp, 261 
 Honeysuckle, 278 
 Honor bright, 118 
 House and home 277 
 Hue and cry, 118 
 Hugo, 79 
 Humber, 47 
 
 Illnesse, 262 
 Illusion, 166 
 Imagination 98 
 Imitation, 116 
 Impertinent, 126 
 Incentive, 273 
 Indo-European, 46 
 Ingersoll, 75, 78 
 Ingle, 213 
 Instigation, 273 
 Intensives, 111, 112 
 Intonation, 72 
 Irish 201, 202 
 Irritate. 161 
 Irritatus, 161 
 
 Jack, 274 
 
 296 
 
Index 
 
 Jag, 213 
 Jehu, 273 
 Job, 213 
 
 Johnson, Dr., 252 
 Jonson, 170 
 Jutes, 47, 48 
 Juvenile, 167 
 
 Kent, 48 
 
 Kent, Kingdom of, 47 
 
 King-fisher, 277 
 
 Kick, 213 
 
 Kith and kin, 277 
 
 Ettredge, 182 
 
 Knack, 213 
 
 Knag, 213 
 
 Knave, 213 
 
 Knick-knack, 213 
 
 Knit, 262 
 
 Knob. 213 
 
 Knock, 213 
 
 Knoll, 213 
 
 Knot, 262 
 
 Knuckle, 213 
 
 Lad, 213 
 
 "Lady." 208 
 
 Lady-bird, 277 
 
 Lady-slippers, 278 
 
 Lag, 213 
 
 Language, 111 
 
 Language, a development, 59 
 
 Language, an inheritance, 64 
 
 Language, a loose contrivance, 
 
 156 
 Language, origin of, 196 
 Language, the spirit of, 61 
 Language-change, 63 
 Language-growth, 57, 63 
 Larkspur, 278 
 Lass, 213 
 Latin, 45, 46, 48, 49, 51, 53, 
 
 103 
 Law-courts, 49, 51 
 Lawn, 213 
 Leave, 262 
 Lincoln, 113 
 Literary dialects, 50 
 Literary Pope, 104 
 Long-pig, 62 
 Loop. 213 
 Lord's Prayer 228 
 Lothario, a gay, 273 
 Lounsbury, Prof., 97, 101, 
 
 102, 103, 104, 105, 218, 222, 
 
 229, 240, 242 
 Lovelace, a, 273 
 Low-GJermans, 46 
 Low-Scotland, 47 
 Loyalty, 127 
 Lubber, 213 
 Lucerne, 275 
 
 M 
 
 Mab, 202 
 Maban, 202 
 Mace, fool's, 205 
 Machines, 91 
 Macs, 202 
 
 297 
 
Index 
 
 Madeira, 275 
 
 Magic, 474 
 
 Magnet, 274 
 
 Maiden-hair, 278 
 
 Manhattan, 275 
 
 Manila, 114 
 
 Manner, 169 
 
 Manx, 201, 202 
 
 Many a time and oft, 118 
 
 Manywhere, 73 
 
 Maqvi, 202 
 
 March, P. A., 251 
 
 Margaret, 275 
 
 Margarita, 279 
 
 Marry, 262 
 
 Masters, 100, 107 
 
 Mated, 263 
 
 Mathew, 169 
 
 Matthews, Brander, 234, 239 
 
 Mattock, 213 
 
 Meadow-sweet, 278 
 
 Meander, 273 
 
 Means, 169, 170 
 
 Mechanics, 63 
 
 Meeklings, 111 
 
 Melt, 263 
 
 Mental phenomena, 155 
 
 Mention, 165 
 
 Mercian, 47, 48 
 
 Merry, 213 
 
 Metaphor, 76 
 
 Metaphysical, 263 
 
 Method, 169 
 
 Middle English, 48 
 
 Midland, 47, 50 
 
 Might and main, 118 
 
 Milton, 176, 210 
 
 Minnehaha, 275 
 
 Mirth, 213 
 
 Mississippi, 275 
 
 Mistakes, 103 
 
 Mode, 169 
 
 Modem English, S3 
 
 Mohegan, 275 
 
 Mollycoddle, 171 
 
 Monkey-nouns, 185 
 
 Monkey-talk, 185 
 
 Monkie, 263 
 
 Mons Pileatus, 275 
 
 Morning glories, 278 
 
 Mortal, 162 
 
 Mortified, 263 
 
 Mottoes for coins, 114, 115 
 
 Mrs. Grundy, 273 
 
 Mrs. Harris, 273 
 
 Mug, 213 
 
 MuUer, Max, 211, 251 
 
 Mushrooms of speech, 90 
 
 Music, 193, 194, 196 
 
 Music and poetry, 196 
 
 Music, primitive language, 
 
 190 
 Muslin, 274 
 
 N 
 Nap, 213 
 Nape, 213 
 Napoleon, 148 
 Nascent words, 123 
 Native tongue, 47 
 Naturalist, 130 
 Nerves, 263 
 
 298 
 
Index 
 
 New, the, 88 
 
 New conceptions, 89 
 
 New words, 89 
 
 Nice, 263 
 
 Nicknack, 213 
 
 Nomenclature, 134 
 
 Nook, 213 
 
 Norman, 47 
 
 Norman Conquest, 48, 51, 52 
 
 Norman French, 49, 52, 53 
 
 Northern (Northumbrian), 50 
 
 Northumbrian, 47, 48, 50 
 
 Notice, 165 
 
 Noyse, 264 
 
 O 
 
 Object, 161 
 Objectus, 161 
 Oblivious, 264 
 Occasion, 264 
 Oil, 127 
 Old English, 47 
 Ontario, 275 
 Opium, 129 
 Onnin, 224, 225 
 Ormulum, the, 225 
 Orthography, 225, 226 
 
 Pack, 213 
 Package, 213 
 Pad, 213 
 Pagan, 127, 128 
 Paganus, 127 
 
 Pagus, 127 
 
 Pall, 213 
 
 Pang, 213 
 
 Parallelism, 65 
 
 Passion flowers, 278 
 
 Pat, 213 
 
 Patten, S. E.. 158, 159 
 
 Payaner, 209 
 
 Peak, 213 
 
 Peake, 264 
 
 Pedagog, 221 
 
 Pert, 213 
 
 Petrel, 276 
 
 Phaeton, 274 
 
 Phonetic style, 50 
 
 Phraseology, 72 
 
 Physical (things), 156 
 
 Physician, 130 
 
 Pick, pie, pike, pet, pitch, 
 
 plod, pod, etc., 213 
 Pilatus, 2T5 
 Ploc, 206 
 Plocan, 207 
 
 Plowman, Piers, 208, 209 
 Poe.79 
 
 Poetic manner, 87 
 Poetic maUer, 87, 92 
 Poetic themes, organic, 88 
 Poetry, 85, 86, 120 
 Poetry and music, 189 
 Poke, 213 
 
 Pony, pose> pool, 213 
 "Poo-poo" theory, 182 
 Possess, 162 
 Post-chaise, 91 
 Pother, 208 
 
 299 
 
Index 
 
 Potter, prong, prop, pour, 
 prowl, puck, pout, pucker, 
 puddle, pug, put, 213 
 
 Precocious, 273 
 
 Predominance, 264 
 
 Presidental, 139 
 
 Primitive man, 60 
 
 Printing, Introduction of, in 
 Eng., 50 
 
 "Professionals," 132 
 
 Program, 220 
 
 Prolog, 221 
 
 Provoco, 161 
 
 Provoke, 161 
 
 Pry, Paul, 273 
 
 Puca, 212 
 
 Puer, 166 
 
 Puerile, 166, 167 
 
 "Purple" birth, 101 
 
 Q 
 
 Quaff, 213 
 Quell, 265 
 Quib, 213 
 Quibble, 213 
 Quirk, 213 
 
 R 
 
 Racket, 213 
 
 Ravel'd, 265 
 
 Ravishing, 265 
 
 Receipt and acknowledge, 118 
 
 Reflection, 265 
 
 Relations, 60, 265 
 
 Remorse, 266 
 
 Riband, 213 
 
 Rice, 213 
 
 Ripe-apple theory, 181 
 Roman Empire, 128 
 Romic system, 228 
 Roosevelt, Theodore, 170 
 Roote, 265 
 Rosemary, 278 
 Rub, 213 
 
 S 
 Sacrament, 130 
 Safe and sane, 118 
 Safe and sound, 277 
 Salt, 127 
 Samuel, 176 
 Sandwich, 274 
 Saxon, 47, 48 
 Say, 174 
 
 Scandinavian, 48 
 Scholar, 130 
 Science, 98 
 
 Science, origin of, 196 
 Scintillating, 150 
 Seer, 130 
 
 Semitic languages, 53 
 Sewer, 236, 266 
 Shakspere,75,76,106, 120, 148, 
 169. 170, 173, 176, 210, 286 
 Shamrock, 213 
 Sheridan, K. B., 176 
 Ship, 213 
 Shore, 236 
 Short-pig, 63 
 Signs, 59 
 Simon pure, 273 
 Simplicity, 64 
 
 300 
 
Index 
 
 Skeat, Prof., 211, 223 
 
 Skein, 213 
 
 Slap, 213 
 
 Sleave, 266 
 
 Slough, 213 
 
 Smells, 266 
 
 Smith, Sir Thos., 225 
 
 Snag, 213 
 
 Snob, 127 
 
 Sole. 266 
 
 Soul of words, 69 
 
 Sounds, 59 
 
 Southern (Saxon), 50 
 
 Spate, 213 
 
 Speak, 174, 175 
 
 Spelling, 50 
 
 Spelling reformers, 50 
 
 Spencer, Herbert, 137, 175 
 
 Spenser, 107 
 
 Spinning wheel, 91 
 
 Spirit of a tongue, 69, 70 
 
 Spiritual (things), 155 
 
 Spoil, 273 
 
 Spout, 174 
 
 Spree 213 
 
 Spurt, 174 
 
 "Square," 206 
 
 Squirrel, 276 
 
 Stab, 213 
 
 Steam engine, 91 
 
 Stephen, 275 
 
 Stevenson, R. L, 175 
 
 Story. 173 
 
 Stout, 266 
 
 Street, 126 
 
 Strength, 64 
 
 Strenuous, 170, 173 
 
 Stuffe, 266 
 
 Style, 81, 137, 138. 139. 140, 
 141, 142, 143, 144, 145. 146, 
 147, 148, 149. 150, 151, 152 
 
 Suggestion, 72, 267 
 
 Summer, 267 
 
 Sundew, 278 
 
 Susanna, 275 
 
 Swift, Mr., 208 
 
 S\nnburne, 76, 79 
 
 Symbols, 60 
 
 Syntax, 97 
 
 Tack, tall, taper, tether, twig, 
 
 213 
 Tacoma, 275 
 Taint, 267 
 Tale, 173, 174 
 Talent, 159, 160 
 Talentum, 160 
 Talk, 174, 175 
 Tantalize, 161 
 Tantalus, 161 
 Tartar, 273 
 Technique, 98 
 Tell, 174, 176 
 Tenderness for words, 79 
 Tennyson, 79 
 Term, 167, 168 
 Terminology, 134 
 Teutonic dialects, 46 
 Thames, 47 
 Tho, 221 
 Thomson, 166 
 
 301 
 
Index 
 
 Thoro, 221 
 Thorofare, 221 
 "Thread-bare" themes, 87, 
 
 92,93 
 Thru, 221 
 Thruout, 221 
 Tones, 60 
 Touch, 267 
 Tribulatio, 274 
 Tribulation, 274 
 Tribulum, 274 
 Trifles, 267 
 Trouble, 268 
 True as Gospel, 118 
 
 U 
 
 Unable, 160 
 Unspeak, 268 
 Untitled, 268 
 Utility, 64 
 
 Vandal, 273 
 Variations, 123 
 Verbena, 129 
 Vitriol, 129 
 Voltaire, 79 
 Vulgarisms, 133 
 
 W 
 
 Walker, Jno., 229 
 
 Wars of the Roses, SO 
 
 Way, 169 
 
 Weal and woe, 277 
 
 Well and good, 118 
 
 Welsh, 201, 202 
 
 Welt, 213 
 
 Wessex. 47, 48, 62 
 
 Whimwam, 206 
 
 White, R. G., 239, 252 
 
 Whitman, Walt, 91 
 
 Whole, 168, 162 
 
 Wilkins, Dean, 227 
 
 Wind and weather, 277 
 
 "Winds of the Soul," 273 
 
 Womanly, 268 
 
 Word-meanings, 131, 133 
 
 Word-mosaics, 61 
 
 Words, 167, 168, 74 
 
 Words, hygienic cleanliness 
 
 of, 80 
 Words, origin of, 80 
 Worse, 203 
 
 Youthful, 167 
 
 302 
 
PE 1073.B43" ""'""">' '■'"'"' 
 
 3 1924 027 368 129